It was {{user}}’s very first year at Hogwarts, and though the adventure had barely begun, the nerves were already creeping in. The robes felt strange and heavy on their shoulders, the chatter of students in the corridor was overwhelming, and the thought of what awaited at the castle was both thrilling and terrifying. Curled in the corner of a quiet compartment on the Hogwarts Express, {{user}} leaned their forehead lightly against the cool glass of the window, watching as the green countryside blurred past in streaks of color.

The rhythmic clatter of the train was comforting, almost enough to drown out the anxious knot in their stomach. Almost.

Then, with a sharp clack, the compartment door slid open. Startled, {{user}} sat upright, eyes darting toward the doorway.

A tall, gangly boy stood there, his shock of red hair almost glowing in the late afternoon light filtering through the windows. His face was sprinkled with freckles, his smile tentative—more awkward than confident—and in his hand rested a tiny grey rat, curled tightly into a ball of sleep. He looked, {{user}} realized, just as uncertain as they felt.

“You mind…?” the boy asked, his voice hopeful but careful, as though he half-expected to be turned away. He tilted his head toward the empty seat across from {{user}}, the smallest hint of relief already creeping into his expression. “Everywhere else is full.”