Chapter 30 : The girl who scoffed

Neville straightened up a little, a spark of hope igniting in his eyes as he watched Tyson.

Tyson rolled his wand once between his fingers, then let it rest flat across his open palm. “Before I try anything, tell me more about Trevor. What does he look like?”

The question seemed to catch Neville off guard. His brows drew together in concentration as he tried to remember every tiny detail. “He’s… well, he’s my toad,” he started, his voice a bit shaky. “Mostly brown, with lots of warts all over his back. His eyes are black and sort of beady.”

“Anything else?” Tyson prompted gently.

Neville thought harder. “Um… yes! He likes warm places. He always tries to crawl into pockets or get near a fire if there’s one nearby.”

Tyson nodded, committing the description to memory. He leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment.

In his mind, he pictured a squat little creature with mottled brown skin, rough and warty, and glossy black eyes.

He imagined an invisible thread running out from his wand down the corridor, looping gently around the toad and pulling it toward him as safely as possible without bumping into anything.

When the image felt solid, he opened his eyes, lifted his wand with a precise flick, and spoke clearly.

“Accio Trevor.”

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then, from somewhere down the corridor, came a distant, muffled croak, followed by a burst of startled voices.

“What was that—”

“Look! The toad’s flying!”

“Merlin’s hairy balls!”

Tyson kept his wand arm steady and leaned out the compartment door just in time to see a small brown thing rocketing down the hallway like a cannonball. Trevor’s tiny legs kicked frantically at empty air, his eyes bulging with pure panic.

There was barely time to react. Tyson grabbed the hem of his robe and yanked it up, turning it into a makeshift net. The toad hit the fabric with a wet thump, bounced once, and went still, quivering.

For a second nobody said anything.

“Holy fuck! It actually worked!” Ron blurted out, eyes wide with shock.

Hermione winced. “Language!”

“What’s wrong with my language?” Ron shot back, though he sounded more startled than defensive. “This is American Tyson was talkin’—”

“Alright, alright,” Tyson cut in smoothly before things could escalate, offering the dazed toad a gentle pat on the head. “Sorry about the rough ride, little guy.”

Trevor just stared back at him blankly. The toad looked traumatized by the whole experience.

“Trevor!” Neville let out a relieved yelp. He crossed the compartment in two quick strides and scooped the toad up carefully, cradling him against his chest like something precious. The worry that had been etched into his face melted away, replaced by a wide, grateful smile.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” he said softly, still hugging Trevor close. “Really.”

“No need to thank me, buddy,” Tyson replied, smiling back. “Glad he’s back in one piece. Why don’t you two stick around? We have plenty of room here.”

Neville hesitated, glancing toward the corridor. “I’d like that, but… my stuff’s still in my compartment. I think.” He peered one way down the hall, then the other, his face slowly twisting into confusion.

Tyson pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting a grin. “Neville. You’ve forgotten which compartment is yours, haven’t you?”

Neville's ears went bright pink. “...Maybe.”

Harry and Ron looked at each other, dumbfounded. They were probably wondering how it was even humanly possible to forget one’s train compartment in just a matter of a few minutes—unless one had amnesia. But then, forgetting his compartment would be the least of Neville’s worries once they reached Hogwarts.

Hermione, though, was already on her feet before anyone else could speak. “I’ll help you find it,” she said, straightening her robes out of habit, then waved Neville toward the door. “Come on.”

Neville gave Tyson one more grateful nod. “Nice meeting you all. Hope we run into each other again.”

“Same here,” Tyson flashed him a grin. “Take it easy with that little escape artist.”

Neville managed a shy smile and hurried after Hermione, Trevor tucked safely against his chest.

Hermione reached the doorway first and paused there for a moment, glancing back at Tyson like she was reconsidering something. Then she lifted her chin and let out a small, dignified “Hmph.”

With that, she swept into the corridor, Neville trailing behind her.

The compartment door slid shut with a soft click.

Silence settled for a moment before Ron shook his head and fished another Chocolate Frog from his pocket. “Blimey. That girl’s a bit much, isn’t she? What was with that attitude? She didn’t even do much.”

“I actually like her,” Tyson said simply, settling back against the seat. “She’s got personality.”

Ron snorted, nearly choking on his frog. “If that’s personality, I want nothing to do with it. Hope she doesn’t end up in Gryffindor.”

“Every Weasley’s been in Gryffindor, right?” Tyson teased lightly.

Ron fiddled with the wrapper, his usual grin fading a little. “Yeah… but I don’t know where I’ll end up. Mum and Dad wouldn’t mind Ravenclaw or whatever. But…” He shifted uncomfortably. “What if it’s Slytherin? You know what people say about them.”

“On the surface, Slytherin doesn’t sound so bad,” Tyson replied with a shrug, noting the horrified look that crossed Ron’s face. “Ambition and drive can be good things. They all have their place.”

Ron looked deeply unconvinced.

Tyson let the thought linger for a beat before adding, “Though it does seem like an awful lot of Slytherins grow up into complete assholes.”

Ron burst out laughing so hard he nearly dropped his frog. “Assholes? What’s that even mean? Sounds funny.”

Tyson pointed at Ron’s face.

Ron clapped a hand over his mouth. “This?”

Tyson lowered his finger slowly. “A little further south.”

Understanding hit Ron like a speeding truck. His eyes widened.

Harry groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Don’t teach him that, Tyson.”

“You weren’t complaining when I was telling him about ‘American,’” Tyson pointed out, shrugging.

“Because it was useful,” Harry said flatly. “Learning how to express himself more openly and gracefully would serve Ron well in the long run.”

Their talk drifted from there: about houses, then Quidditch.

Ron’s eyes lit up as he ranted about the Cannons’ latest disastrous season, then sweets, then wilder and wilder guesses about what the castle would actually look like up close.

The topic of House choices eventually resurfaced. For Tyson, Slytherin was a no-no, since everyone knew they had that whole anti-Muggle thing going on. If he had to say, Hufflepuff would be his first choice. They were pretty chill.

Harry was pretty set on either Gryffindor or Hufflepuff.

The beautiful Scottish Highlands blurred past outside the window.

...

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