Chapter 9 — I Think That Kind of Behavior Is Very Rude
After the topic of wands ended, the compartment finally fell into a rare stretch of quiet. Mainly because Hermione didn't quite dare to keep talking with Siron anymore—she was afraid he might repute Neville's wand again.
Siron, on the other hand, was happy to enjoy the peace. Once the train's rocking eased a little, he flipped open the book in his hands again.
Compared to chatting with the know-it-all young lady, wands were far more interesting.
The book had been given to him by Ollivander before departure, and much of its content was eye-opening for Siron.
How should he put it—Ollivanders had existed for over two thousand years now, even longer than Hogwarts itself. What they'd left behind wasn't limited to that small, shabby shop in Diagon Alley.
Although the book Siron was holding wasn't from the oldest batch—only a "new book" from a little over five hundred years ago—it was more than enough for him.
…
From morning to afternoon, the sky gradually darkened. When Siron looked up again, Hermione and Neville were already gone, leaving him alone in the compartment.
"We're here?" Siron subconsciously looked out the window.
The sky was low and gray, giving off an oppressive feeling.
At that moment, the lights inside the carriage turned on. Under the dim yellow glow, the window outside became pitch black, and nothing could be seen clearly.
Then Hermione came back as well.
"Siron, you…" She opened the compartment door and paused slightly.
"What's wrong?"
"Ah, nothing." Hermione shook her head and explained, "I thought you were still reading, so I came to remind you to change into your robes. We're about to arrive."
"Thanks." Siron nodded.
"You're welcome," Hermione said.
She had come back to get her luggage, and reminding Siron was just convenient.
But before she could even pull her trunk down, Siron stopped her.
"No need. Someone will help us move the luggage."
"Are you sure?" Hermione looked doubtful.
"Of course." Siron smiled. "If everyone dragged several big trunks with them, the transportation the school prepared might not be enough."
Hermione grew even more puzzled.
She wanted to ask what kind of transportation it was, but at that moment, the train had already come to a complete stop.
"Please leave your luggage on the train. We will deliver it to the school for you," a voice echoed through the carriages, confirming Siron's words.
They really didn't need to move their luggage themselves.
"First-years! First-year students, this way!" Another unfamiliar voice called out from outside.
"Let's go too," Hermione said, while curiously watching Siron take a small brown leather bag down from the luggage rack.
"Valuables are safer if I keep them with me." Siron slung the bag over his shoulder and covered it with his loose robes.
During the process, faint clinking sounds could occasionally be heard coming from inside the bag.
Hermione suddenly guessed what it was.
Gold and silver coins, probably. If so, it really did make sense to keep them close. All her money was stuffed into her pockets—she didn't have nearly as much as Siron, nor enough to warrant a separate bag.
That wasn't surprising. A wand-making family was basically the arms dealer of the wizarding world—of course they wouldn't be short on money.
Speaking of being rich, she had just run into a boy who was supposedly from a wealthy family. Completely lacking in manners, with two lackeys in tow, he practically had his nostrils pointed at the sky.
Compared to that, Siron's personality was much better. He had been patient with both her and Neville the whole time.
The only thing was that he worked a bit too hard—reading the entire train ride.
Even though it was "leisure reading" rather than textbooks, she still couldn't help feeling a slight sense of pressure.
Siron, however, had no idea what Hermione was thinking. After changing into his robes, he followed the crowd off the train.
Outside, a huge man was holding up a lamp and shouting loudly:
"…Sorry, Harry, I don't have time to talk right now. First-years, over here!"
Neville, who had gotten off earlier, was already standing beside him, waving vigorously at Siron and Hermione.
"Over here! Hurry!"
"Neville…" Hermione walked over quickly and asked, "Have you found your toad?"
"No." Neville's face instantly fell. "I asked every compartment—no one's seen Trevor…"
"Maybe he's hiding in some corner," Hermione said. "It's okay. I'll go ask the conductor and ask him to help look while they move the luggage. The train isn't that big—we'll definitely find him."
"Thank you, Hermione." Neville was so touched he was practically on the verge of tears.
He truly was. In all his years, Hermione was the first stranger willing to help him like this.
But before they could act, a sharp cat screech drew everyone's attention.
On the other side of the crowd, Siron was gripping the scruff of his pet's neck with one hand, forcibly pulling something out of its mouth—
A toad?
At that moment, a lamp appeared above them.
Under the light, Neville finally saw the toad clearly.
"Trevor!" he shouted in wild delight, rushing over and taking the toad from Siron's hands.
"Thank you!"
"Don't mention it." Siron shook his head. He was about to say something else, but Hagrid had already come over.
An eleven-foot-tall giant was an overwhelming presence for first-years. Everyone's attention was drawn to him—Neville included.
So Siron didn't say anything further.
Led by Hagrid, the group began stumbling forward.
Siron walked at the very back, looking down at Tom in his hands, whose face was practically screaming defiance.
"I wasn't trying to steal your prey," Siron said, not caring whether Tom could understand him.
"…But Trevor is also a pet. Strictly speaking, you two are half colleagues. Personally, I think eating a colleague is very rude behavior."
"Rrrowl!" Tom howled.
"So you agree too, right?" Siron continued to himself, reaching out to rub Tom's head.
Tom froze completely.
When had it agreed? It had clearly been cursing just now.
That was its prey!
Caught in the grass by the roadside—how did that make them colleagues?
Besides, even if they were colleagues, it hadn't exactly eaten little when it was still in the pet shop. By value alone, it was worth at least fifteen Galleons.
Unfortunately, Siron couldn't understand a word of what it was saying and continued talking to himself.
"Since we haven't reached the castle yet, let's make an agreement. Don't eat colleagues, okay?"
"Rrrowl!"
"If you eat one, I'll have to pay compensation. And you know I don't have many Galleons, and they're all earmarked for other uses…"
"Mmrr—rrrowl!" It struggled harder.
"Of course, if you insist on not changing, then I'll have no choice but to save money elsewhere…" Siron narrowed his eyes slightly. "For example, trying to see whether hybrid magical creatures can replace traditional wand cores."
"I remember the cats at the Eeylops Owl Emporium all have some Kneazle blood, which is why they're especially intelligent. You should too, right?"
"Meow~"
The pressure on his wrist suddenly vanished. Then came a soft, damp sensation against his hand.
Looking down, the fiercely struggling Tom had suddenly gone docile, obediently licking his hand. Even its voice had softened into something closer to a normal cat's meow.
Still a bit rough, with that awkward, half-failed attempt at sounding cute—but none of that mattered.
"Good Tom…" Siron smiled as he stroked the cat's head. "I knew you'd understand me."
(End of Chapter)