Chương 36: Looking for a Toad? I'm an Expert!
After much effort, Hermione decided to temporarily forgive David for his tardiness. She led him through the narrow corridor of the Hogwarts Express and into a compartment where the door stood ajar.
On one of the seats was an open book titled Hogwarts: A History, its gilded letters gleaming in the light. From the way the book had been hastily left open, it was clear that Hermione had been anxious earlier while waiting for him.
David felt even guiltier. He quickly stashed his luggage on the overhead rack and slid into the seat opposite Hermione, trying to muster the courage to apologize.
---
A heavy silence filled the compartment. David coughed awkwardly in an attempt to break the ice, but Hermione didn't so much as glance at him. She was absorbed in her book, though her furrowed brow and the rapid flipping of pages betrayed her frustration.
David sighed, feeling helpless. He glanced out the window, watching the passing countryside, as Hermione continued to ignore him. The silence stretched on, making him feel more awkward by the second.
"This is harder than dealing with magical creatures," David thought. "At least they don't hold grudges!"
He sighed again, lamenting, Why didn't Grandpa write a book about how to make peace with annoyed friends? That would've been more useful right now.
---
At that moment, there was a knock at the compartment door. A friendly witch with a trolley full of snacks leaned in, smiling.
"Anything from the trolley, dears?" she asked cheerfully.
David lit up like someone seeing their savior. "Yes, please! Hermione, want anything?"
Hermione didn't answer and instead gave an irritated snort. Undeterred, David bought an assortment of snacks and placed them on the seat between them.
Hermione resisted for a while, determined to keep up her silent treatment. But eventually, the temptation was too much. She set her book aside and, pretending to be uninterested, casually reached for a snack.
David smirked. Progress!
Soon enough, Hermione began asking about the snacks—what they were, how they were made—and David eagerly explained, delighted to finally be back on speaking terms.
"I actually spent a lot of time experimenting with magical foods at home," he said proudly. "It's kind of my specialty."
They tried several treats together, laughing as David shared tidbits about each one. Then Hermione picked up a small pentagon-shaped box.
"Be careful!" David warned, but she opened it before he could stop her.
---
With a loud ribbit, a chocolate frog leaped out of the box, startling Hermione so badly that she jumped back with a shriek. The frog slammed into the window before David quickly caught it.
"This," David said with a grin, holding up the squirming frog, "is a Chocolate Frog. They're enchanted to jump like real frogs when the box is opened. But don't worry—they eventually turn back into regular chocolate. Want to try it?"
Hermione shook her head quickly, still eyeing the frog with a mix of curiosity and unease.
Shrugging, David popped the chocolate frog into his mouth. "No point letting it go to waste!"
Hermione reached into the box and pulled out a card. Her eyes widened. "There's a portrait of your grandfather on this!"
David nodded. "Oh, yeah. That's the collectible card they include with Chocolate Frogs. They feature famous witches and wizards. Grandpa got one because of his work with magical creatures. They even pay him every month for using his portrait."
Hermione flipped the card over and read aloud:
"Newt Scamander, one of the greatest magical creatures experts of our time, author of 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.' He also established the Werewolf Registry…"
She paused, frowning. "Have you ever seen a werewolf? I read in some books that they're vicious monsters who intentionally hurt others to spread their curse."
---
David's expression darkened. "Those books are likely written to sell sensational stories, not to tell the truth," he said seriously. "I've met many werewolves, and most of them are just people dealing with a terrible condition. They aren't monsters. Sure, there are bad ones, but isn't that true for all people, magical or not?"
Hermione nodded slowly, processing his words. David's thoughts briefly turned to Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf who had turned Remus Lupin and caused so much suffering.
Before Hermione could respond, the compartment door slid open again.
"Excuse me," a trembling voice said. "Have you seen my toad?"
A chubby boy with a round face stood in the doorway, looking tearful.
---
"Neville!" David exclaimed, recognizing him instantly.
David had met Neville several times while visiting his parents in St. Mungo's. He remembered Neville as a shy but determined boy, and seeing him here brought back memories.
Neville brightened at the sight of David and quickly explained that his pet toad, Trevor, had gone missing.
"Don't worry, we'll find him," David said confidently.
He pulled out his wand and cast a small spell. A thin golden thread appeared in the air, connecting to Neville's nose. David sniffed, catching a faint, damp scent of grass—Trevor's unique smell.
Waving his wand again, David traced the golden thread into the hallway. It led them to a quiet corner where Trevor sat, stubbornly refusing to be found.
"Neville, is this your toad?" David asked, gesturing to the small creature.
"Trevor!" Neville cried, scooping the toad into his hands with relief.
---
Back in the compartment, Hermione stared at David in awe. "How did you do that? I've never seen a spell like it before!"
David puffed up his chest, grinning. "What can I say? Future magical creatures expert here. That spell was invented by my grandfather. It's a manifestation charm that helps track magical animals by their scent."
"Can I learn it?" Hermione asked eagerly.
"Of course!" David said. "But it only works if you're familiar with the smell of the magical creature you're trying to find. You also need to visualize its shape clearly."
Hermione nodded thoughtfully, already deep in thought, as Neville sat down to join them, clutching Trevor tightly. The compartment felt livelier now, filled with chatter, laughter, and the occasional ribbit.
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