Back in their compartment, the chatter slowly faded. Charlie picked up a copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi and lost himself in its pages. It had the exact same magnetic pull as the encyclopedias of oddities and animal documentaries that had completely fascinated him when he was younger.
Hermione was entirely different. She sat perfectly still in the corner, intensely focused on her spellbook. Her lips moved in silent rehearsal, totally oblivious to Charlie looking her way.
Time slipped by quickly. Before long, the tops of the forest trees outside the window donned a veil of gold, and the horizon bruised into a deep, magical purple.
"I think we'd better change into our robes," Hermione announced, glancing out the window. She picked up her neatly folded uniform, pushed open the compartment door, and offered a quick wave. "See you in a bit."
"See you," Charlie replied. He sat up, snapped his book shut, and popped open his trunk.
Because the trunk was laying flat, a melodic clinking and clattering echoed from inside.
"What's all that?" Neville asked, leaning over for a look.
Inside the trunk sat a chaotic array of jars, glass bottles, and several peculiar candy molds.
"Um... just some toys?" Charlie offered vaguely. "Yeah, let's just go with toys." For a brief second, he felt a bit like Newt Scamander carrying around a briefcase full of secrets, though his were significantly sweeter.
"Oh, that's the stuff you use to make your sweets, isn't it?" Neville nodded in sudden understanding, spotting a mold that perfectly matched the shape of the chocolate he had eaten earlier.
"Exactly. It's practically my life savings in there," Charlie admitted with a grin.
"And what about those jars?" Neville pointed to two glass containers. One held a thick, pale-gold liquid, while the other shimmered with a bright silver sheen. Another jar contained something indescribable: it looked like water but was far too viscous, glowing with a faint hint of green.
"Secret syrups," Charlie winked. He wanted to explain the intricate process to Neville, but realizing they still needed to change, he decided against it. "I'll tell you about it when we have more time. Or better yet, I'll let you taste them."
After all, bottled within those jars was literal captured sunlight and moonlight, alongside a bizarre assortment of magical ingredients Charlie had spent the last few weeks harvesting with his wand. Honestly, there were a few concoctions in there he was entirely too scared to eat himself. Progress had to be made one bite at a time.
Charlie pulled on his robes. They were standard issue and a bit too long, dragging slightly at his ankles. It was a harsh reality: hoping for luxury as an orphan was nothing short of a pipe dream. Fingers crossed I can afford tailored robes next year, he thought, adjusting his collar. Preferably ones that actually fit.
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Come in," Charlie called out, fixing his sleeves.
Hermione stepped back inside just as a loud voice echoed through the train.
"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."
"Exactly what the trolley lady told us," Charlie noted to Neville, who offered a relieved smile.
Out in the corridor, young witches and wizards were scrambling about in a chaotic frenzy. Charlie cracked the door open for a peek as the train finally ground to a halt.
"Let's wait a minute before heading out," he suggested, closing the door again. He was never a fan of crushing crowds.
Three minutes later, the trio finally stepped off the train.
Standing near the now-empty carriage doors, Charlie's ears twitched. He subtly turned his head. A tiny, dark shadow darted through his peripheral vision.
He kept perfectly quiet. Turning back, he gently tugged at the brim of his hat and pulled his robes tighter around himself.
The platform at Hogsmeade was steeped in the night. The world was pitch black, illuminated only by a few flickering lanterns. Charlie mused that the station must have been built in the Victorian era, which made sense given the steam engine. He only thought about it because it was so incredibly dark. Returning from the age of electricity to the era of oil lamps offered absolutely zero benefits, aside from a rather spectacular view of the starry sky above.
Suddenly, a lantern that hovered significantly higher than the rest began to bob toward them.
"Firs' years! Firs' years, over here!" a booming, incredibly deep voice called out from beneath the light.
As they got closer, Charlie realized it wasn't a floating lantern at all. It was a man, taller than any streetlamp, unbelievably broad, and standing nearly ten feet tall with a wild beard that cascaded right down to his stomach. Charlie mentally calculated that he was probably about as tall as the man's beard was long.
"All right there, Harry?" the giant beamed at the crowd. Charlie glanced to his side and realized Harry Potter had somehow squeezed right next to him.
A chorus of greetings rose from the shivering first years.
"Right then, I'm Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. Follow me, off we go! Watch yer step, now!"
Trailing behind Hagrid, the nervous group navigated a steep, slippery mud path, stumbling through a thick patch of trees until Hagrid's voice boomed from the front once more.
"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec, just round this bend here!"
Ten seconds later, Charlie was entirely surrounded by a chorus of awestruck gasps.
The ancient, towering castle unfolded before them like a magnificent painting. The glassy, pitch-black lake below acted as a perfect mirror, teaming up with the silver moon to enhance the castle's breathtaking beauty.
Even though Charlie had mentally prepared himself for this exact moment, his mouth fell open slightly as he let out a long breath.
"Now that is... an incredibly massive building."
"It really is. Ancient and beautiful," Hermione agreed softly beside him.
Hagrid waited patiently for the wave of absolute astonishment to settle before ushering the children toward the edge of the lake.
"No more'n four to a boat!" he instructed, carefully lowering his massive frame into his own boat, which groaned under a weight that easily equaled four normal men.
Charlie, Neville, and Hermione claimed a small boat together. They were joined by a girl with pigtails and a dusting of freckles across her nose.
"Hello," she greeted them nervously as the boat rocked. "I'm Hannah Abbott."
"I know you," Charlie said, suddenly fighting the bizarre urge to place his hat right on top of her head.
Hannah stared at him in confusion. "You do?"
"Ah... I've heard the name," Charlie recovered smoothly, extending a hand. "I'm Charlie Wonka. Nice to meet you."
The little fleet of boats glided silently across the dark water, seemingly propelled by magic alone, until they reached a small underground harbor. Charlie helped Neville and the two girls onto the rocky shore, glanced down to check on a little secret he was keeping, and finally stepped onto dry land himself.
Hagrid led them up a flight of stone steps until they gathered before a set of massive, towering oak doors.
The doors swung open just enough to reveal a stern-looking witch in emerald-green robes and a pointed hat.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid announced.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here," she replied with a crisp nod.
She turned her sharp gaze upon the rustling, whispering crowd of children. With one sweeping look, the entire group fell completely silent. The terrifying transition took roughly ten seconds. Professor McGonagall clearly possessed a natural, terrifying talent for crowd control.
She turned around and pushed the giant oak doors open. Charlie narrowed his eyes, watching her fingers closely. She barely tapped the wood, yet the heavy doors swung open effortlessly as if commanded by her very will.
As he walked through the entryway, Charlie slyly placed his own hand against the heavy wood and gave it a shove. The door didn't budge a single millimeter.
Definitely the Professor's magic, he thought. Does she not even need a wand for that? He filed the intriguing little mystery away in his mind as the group followed McGonagall into a small, empty chamber off the main hall.
They huddled together, standing shoulder to shoulder. Professor McGonagall welcomed them to Hogwarts and briefly explained the Sorting Ceremony, outlining the four noble houses.
"I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting," she advised, her eyes lingering critically on a few messy cloaks. "I shall return when we are ready for you. Please, wait quietly."
With that, she left the chamber.
Charlie stood near the back of the anxious crowd, leaning casually against the very door they had just walked through. He bent down and held out his empty hand.
Without a sound, a dark little shadow hopped right into his palm.
Quietly, he reached over and placed the shadow right next to Neville's ear.
"AH!" Neville shrieked, jumping out of his skin. "What is that?!"
He blinked, staring down at the floor.
Ribbit.
The toad stared back at him, looking incredibly unimpressed.
"Trevor?!" Neville gasped, overjoyed. He dropped to his knees and scooped up the chubby amphibian from Charlie's hands. "Charlie, where did you find him?!"
"He's been following you the whole time," Charlie said simply.
Back at the train station, Charlie hadn't really been the very last one off the train. He was just the last human. The little shadow he had spotted was Trevor. The fiercely loyal toad had hopped right onto the boats behind them and trailed Neville all the way up to the castle.
"Obviously, Neville, he isn't stupid. He knows exactly who his owner is," Charlie explained.
"Really?" Neville looked at the toad in absolute wonder.
"Evidently."
Charlie couldn't quite remember how Neville found his toad in the original story, but he knew it definitely wasn't on the train. Seeing Trevor navigate an entire magical lake just to stay near Neville proved the creature was remarkably bright.
Charlie offered the toad a sly, squinting smile. "You won't have to worry about him wandering off anymore. Though, you might want to warn him that if he hops into the wrong dungeon, he might end up as the star ingredient in a potion."
Trevor let out a nervous little croak and squished himself deeper into Neville's hands.
"See? Not stupid at all," Charlie chuckled.
Suddenly, the temperature in the room plummeted. Several pearlescent, translucent ghosts drifted straight through the back wall.
One of them, a woman with flowing hair who floated horizontally as if resting on an invisible bed, noticed their little toad rescue.
"Generally speaking, the pets you purchase in Diagon Alley are quite brilliant," she drifted over, smiling warmly. "Especially toads, cats, and owls. Through centuries of magical breeding, they have become quite marvelous. Even without casting spells themselves, their awareness is extraordinary. Just like Muggles, really. Even without magic, they understand the world in their own fascinating ways."
She paused, offering an apologetic smile. "Oh, forgive me, I am rambling. I am the Ravenclaw ghost, and formerly the Muggle Studies Professor. We hope to see you in Ravenclaw."
Charlie studied her. This ghost didn't seem like the Grey Lady he vaguely remembered from the books. A non-canon character, perhaps?
"Thank you for the explanation, Madam," Charlie tipped his hat respectfully. "How should we address you?"
"You may call me Madam Eileen," she smiled cheerfully.
"Then I shall do exactly that next time, Madam Eileen." Charlie leaned back against the door.
"Cheeky boy," she laughed, floating gracefully through the ceiling.
At the front of the room, the door finally swung open. Professor McGonagall had returned. She instructed the first years to form a line and led them out of the chamber and into the legendary Great Hall.
Four incredibly long tables stretched across the cavernous room, packed with older students. At the very front sat a raised table reserved for the staff. Behind the teachers hung four massive banners. On the left, a badger on yellow and a serpent on green. On the right, a lion on red and an eagle on blue.
The first years were led right down the middle aisle. At the very front of the hall sat a simple wooden stool, and upon it rested a tattered, incredibly old wizard's hat.
While Charlie was busy admiring the enchanted, star-filled ceiling and the hundreds of floating candles, the ancient hat twitched. A tear near the brim opened wide like a mouth.
"You may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see..."
The hat launched into a raspy, meandering song about its own brilliance. When it finally hit its screeching final note, Charlie seriously considered popping a piece of moonlight chocolate into his mouth just to soothe his deeply traumatized eardrums.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward, unfurling a long roll of parchment.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted. Hannah Abbott!"
Hannah stumbled out of line and practically ran to the stool. Exactly as she had predicted on the boat, the Hat shouted: "HUFFLEPUFF!"
Alphabetical by last name, Charlie thought. Wonka... I'm going to be waiting a while.
He passed the time staring at the magical wonders of the Great Hall. Hagrid slipped into a seat at the staff table, and the two floating candles that had guided him instantly zoomed up to join the glowing flock near the ceiling. It was these tiny, unscripted magical details that truly made Charlie's jaw drop.
His marveling was violently interrupted by an absolute explosion of noise.
"WE GOT POTTER! WE GOT POTTER!"
Charlie looked up toward the stool, then over to the Gryffindor table on his right, where two red-headed twins were screaming their lungs out. The reason for the cheering was pretty obvious.
The sorting continued. Both Neville and Hermione were sent to Gryffindor, just as expected.
Eventually, McGonagall's crisp voice rang out.
"Charlie Wonka!"
Charlie took a confident step forward. Just as he moved, his hat gave a bizarre twist. In front of the entire Great Hall, the hat lost its shape, sprouted ears, and dropped to the stone floor as a very confused, fluffy white rabbit.
Ah, Charlie thought. Remember when I told Hermione not to report me for underage magic? Guess the secret is out.
Whispers erupted across the hall.
"Whoa, a transfigured rabbit!"
"How cute!"
"What a rule-breaking show-off."
Charlie casually glanced over to the Slytherin table where that last bitter comment had originated. He ignored it and walked calmly toward the front, subtly scanning the staff table.
Professor Dumbledore looked incredibly amused. Professor McGonagall's eye twitched violently, and her lips thinned into a severe line, but she said absolutely nothing.
I'm safe, Charlie decided.
He picked up his rabbit, sat down on the stool, and McGonagall dropped the Sorting Hat onto his head. It immediately slipped down over his eyes.
"Ah, a little rule-breaker, aren't we?" a small voice whispered directly into his ear. "I already had a wonderful place in mind for you, but let me look a bit deeper."
Your wonderful place wouldn't happen to be Gryffindor, would it? Charlie replied in his mind.
"Precisely. But upon closer inspection, I must apologize for my hasty assumption. This requires some serious thought. Yes... generally a mild-mannered fellow, but your head is absolutely buzzing with scheming little thoughts. Hufflepuff? Or perhaps Gryffindor after all?"
I leave it entirely up to you, Charlie said breezily. He genuinely liked going with the flow. If he specifically begged to hide in Hufflepuff just to avoid trouble, he'd be entirely missing the magical fun of the sorting. Besides, if a kid was inherently troublesome, hiding in the badger's den wouldn't stop the plot from finding him anyway.
"Thank you for the trust, kid. Slytherin might suit you, too. As I said, you have quite a few cunning little ideas bouncing around in there."
When an orphan is just trying to survive the real world, his mind tends to get a little colorful, Charlie chuckled internally. It was a half-truth, of course. His cunning nature was entirely a byproduct of his past life in the corporate grinder.
The Hat hummed, deep in thought. "While you certainly aren't purely innocent and you possess the nerve to challenge authority, you lack that reckless, headfirst bravery. You have a desire for success and recognition, but it doesn't consume you. Tell me, between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, which do you prefer?"
Throwing the choice back to him?
Charlie paused, thinking it over carefully.
Which house holds the sun and the moon? he asked quietly.
The Hat didn't whisper a reply. Instead, a rip near the brim opened wide, and it shouted to the entire hall:
"RAVENCLAW!"