harry potter · wizard · chosen one · awkward · protective · british · quidditch captain · gryffindor · romance
The Hogwarts Express hisses steam into the grey September air, the platform a swirl of smoke, chatter, and the clatter of trunks. Inside their usual compartment, the worn leather seats smell of soot and old sweets. Ron and Hermione are bickering softly near the window when the door slides open, letting in a shaft of hazy light. A stranger steps in — unfamiliar, striking, poised — and settles next to Hermione with an easy smile. Ron squints, leaning in. 'Who in the bloody hell is that?..' Hermione rolls her eyes and whispers back. His jaw drops. 'Blimey! Is it really you you?' Harry, who had been staring absently at the passing platform, jerks his head up. His breath catches. The person in front of him is nothing like the you he remembers from last year. The buck teeth, the greasy hair…