Chapter Thirty-Two: Sleeping Beauty

“It's alright, come over here so the people coming in behind won’t bump into you,” Jessica said with a smile, helping him push his luggage over.

“What a beautiful snowy owl,” Jessica admired, noticing the owl perched on the luggage cart.

“Madam, her name is Hedwig,” Harry said, blushing.

“Is that so? She must be a wonderful companion,” Jessica smiled. “My son has a snowy owl too, named Celerytus. But we just call him Celery, hoping he’ll be as swift as the wind.”

Just as Harry left the entrance to the platform, Ron hurried in.

“Oh~”

“How is it? Isn’t it amazing?” Ron exclaimed excitedly, looking at Harry.

“Yeah, it feels like a dream,” Harry nodded. “The magical world is truly incredible.”

Jessica watched the two children animatedly discussing, a smile spreading across her face. Young wizards should be as joyful and lively as they were, not buried every day in magical studies. The laughter around her reminded her of Rog, and a wave of melancholy washed over her.

“Ron, move aside quickly! Don’t block this lady!” Mrs. Weasley walked in with Ginny, pulling Ron to one side.

“It’s no trouble,” Jessica replied with a smile. “Wishing you all health and happiness at Hogwarts.”

Mrs. Weasley stared after Jessica’s retreating figure, lost in thought.

“What’s wrong, Mum?” Ron looked up curiously.

“I feel like I’ve seen her somewhere before... Never mind, hurry up and board the train!” Mrs. Weasley gathered herself and urged them on.

Rog sat inside the carriage eating breakfast. Having come early, he was the only passenger in that compartment.

“Excuse me... May I sit here?” A chubby little wizard asked shyly as the train began to move.

“Of course, please do,” Rog nodded. The boy opposite him had a round face, and aside from a slight stammer, he was quite endearing.

“My name’s Neville, Neville Longbottom. This is my pet toad, called...” Neville seemed to have forgotten the toad’s name, scratching his head as he stared absentmindedly at the toad in his hands.

“Hey!” Rog warned, watching the toad about to jump off. “Your toad’s trying to escape.”

Startled awake, Neville came back to himself and quickly thanked him. “Thanks! I’ve always been a bit forgetful. Oh yes, his name is Trevor. Uncle Algie gave him to me.”

“Trevor, a good name,” Rog nodded, though he wasn’t fond of toads, he was impressed by Neville.

Neville’s parents were both members of the Order of the Phoenix. On the eve of victory, Bellatrix had captured and tortured them with the Cruciatus Curse until they went mad, all in an attempt to extract Voldemort’s whereabouts.

Neville was only one year old then and witnessed it all. The rescuing wizards had to use a memory charm on him to make him forget, which also left him extremely forgetful.

“Perhaps you need a strong heart to overcome it and see the truth again,” Rog said as he finished eating, elegantly wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“The truth?” Neville looked at Rog, puzzled, as if something important had slipped his mind.

“I’m going to rest now. Mind if I draw the curtain halfway?” Rog produced a blue lunar charm and pulled the curtain before Neville could respond.

“Alright, alright,” Neville said, eyeing him curiously. Was he going to sleep?

Rog ignored the look and slipped the blue lunar charm into his mouth. Soon, his eyelids began to droop. Summoning his willpower, he took a blanket from his bag and covered himself. Neville gaped in surprise at how quickly Rog fell asleep.

“Hello, is anyone here?” A brown-haired girl entered, frowning at Rog, who sprawled across the entire sofa, then looked at Neville.

“Please, have a seat,” Neville quickly stood up to welcome the young witch.

“Thank you. I’m Hermione, Hermione Granger,” she said shyly. “Every other compartment is full.”

She glanced at the boy under the blanket, wondering if he was a first-year too. How could he fall asleep before the train even left? Was attending Hogwarts really that boring?

“He, he’s called...” Neville looked up at the ceiling, embarrassed, scratching his head. “I seem to have forgotten to ask his name.”

“Hermione, this is my pet, his name’s Trevor.”

Hermione looked at Neville’s toad with slight discomfort but forced a smile. “Trevor? What a lovely toad.”

Since Rog completely occupied the opposite sofa, Hermione had no choice but to sit beside Neville. Fortunately, Trevor was very quiet and didn’t rouse any aversion from the young witch.

The whistle from the front of the train screeched loudly but couldn’t rouse the sleeping boy. Hermione looked at him with a teasing smile. “Seems like he’s not very interested in Hogwarts. Maybe we should call him Sleeping Beauty.”

“Sleeping Beauty? I think I’ve heard that name before,” Neville said slowly, helping explain Rog’s deep sleep. “I think it’s the potion he drank.”

Neville described the silver-blue potion Rog had consumed—beautiful, shimmering with liquid that flowed like a galaxy.

“I haven’t seen that potion in our ‘Magical Potions and Brews’ textbook,” Hermione frowned, pondering if the boy across was drinking some advanced potion.

“What?” Neville looked at her, confused.

“Our first-year potions textbook—you haven’t read it?”

“Ah... Aren’t books only used during classes?” Neville looked at Hermione, baffled as to why she’d read it in advance.

As they chatted, Hermione realized Neville was very forgetful. She stopped talking about magic and instead shared amusing stories about their acceptance letters.

During this time, Neville’s toad went missing, and he frantically searched. “Trevor? Where are you, Trevor?”

“Maybe he jumped onto Sleeping Beauty,” Hermione pointed at Rog, suggesting Neville check there.

“Hey, hey!” Neville called several times and poked him, but Rog didn’t move.

“Could he be dead?” Neville stepped back in panic, his face turning pale.

“No, look—his stomach’s still rising and falling,” Hermione rolled her eyes at the timid wizard.

“He’s just in a deep sleep,” Hermione’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “In fairy tales, Sleeping Beauty only wakes with a prince’s kiss. Why don’t you try kissing him? Maybe that’ll wake him up.”

“Ah!” Neville shook his head. “In the fairy tale, isn’t it the princess who kisses the prince?”

“No way! You must be mistaken!” Hermione looked at the little scatterbrain and had to stop the fairy tale. “Alright, turn him over and look for your toad.”

Neville clumsily followed Hermione’s instructions, nearly dropping Rog onto the floor, but still found no sign of the toad.

“Maybe Trevor went to another carriage. Let’s split up and look,” Hermione suggested. “One of us searches one side, and the other the other side. We’ll find him for sure.”

Neville nodded. This wasn’t the first time Trevor had run off; he always found his way back.

The ravenous train puffed white smoke as it sped toward the Scottish Highlands. Despite having a sleeping companion in the carriage, fate soon brought Hermione to meet Harry and Ron.

In the end, they still didn’t find Trevor. As the lights flickered on in the compartments, Hermione and Neville had no choice but to return to theirs.