Secret Player

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Harry sighed, the reality of the situation sinking in. The boy across from him, Ron Weasley, had a deeply ingrained bias against Slytherin House, likely ingrained from childhood, filled with praise for Gryffindor and disdain for Slytherin. Dealing with such deeply rooted beliefs was a task Harry wasn't eager to undertake. His curiosity piqued about the origin of the spell cast on Ron, but as Ron continued to praise Gryffindor, it became evident that the spell's influence was as strong as ever.

Ron's conversation shifted to the great wizards of Gryffindor, mentioning, "And don't forget Dumbledore. The greatest wizard of all times." That's when it clicked for Harry. 'It must be him,' he thought, a smirk playing on his lips. 'The Headmaster wants to influence me into Gryffindor, but why?'

Harry, with a knowing grin, turned to Nigel, and asked, "Nigel, characters make a name, and a name makes character, right?"

Nigel responded with an eager understanding, "Astute observation, Master Harry. The Headmaster might have thought to influence your character by placing you into Gryffindor. If you spend seven years among lions, you will act like one."

Harry's smile widened. "And if I spend seven years among snakes, I may become a snake. I wonder why he wants me to be brave?" he pondered, his mind swirling with possibilities.

Nigel's voice, always a source of insight, offered a hypothesis. "Perhaps he sees in you a quality that he believes will flourish best in Gryffindor. Or maybe it's about shaping your future path. After all, the House one is sorted into can have a profound impact on their wizarding journey."

Harry nodded, contemplating Nigel's words. The idea of the Headmaster manipulating his house placement intrigued him. It suggested a deeper game at play, one that Harry was now a part of.

Meanwhile, Ron, oblivious to the silent conversation between Harry and Nigel, continued to extol the virtues of Gryffindor. "It's the best house, you know. Brave at heart, daring, nerve, and chivalry. That's Gryffindor," he said with a sense of pride.

He couldn't help but chuckle inwardly at Ron's passionate speech about Gryffindor. 'Sounds to me like a fool who would dive headfirst into danger without a second thought,' Harry mused silently, his eyes dancing with amusement. The conversation with Ron was enlightening, yet it raised more questions than answers about Dumbledore's intentions. Why did the Headmaster want him in Gryffindor? Harry had no desire to be a mere pawn in someone else's game. 'I am a player, not a piece on the chessboard,' he thought firmly.

He then thought, 'Not only that. If the caster is Dumbledore, he wants me to be friends with Ron. I wonder why?' He mused, but couldn't figure out why. As the train hummed into life and started to move, Harry returned to his book, leaving Ron to being bored to death. "Obviously not a reader," Nigel commented, his voice echoing in Harry's mind with a hint of amusement.

'Doesn't look like the type,' Harry answered internally, his focus returning to the pages before him. Despite Ron's amiable nature, Harry had decided not to pursue a friendship with him. He couldn't see Dumbledore's intention in orchestrating this relationship, and until then, he wouldn't blindly follow the script laid out for him. Overconfidence was a hamartia that had caused the downfall of many mighty figures, and Harry was wary of falling into that trap.

Despite his increasing mental prowess, Harry reminded himself that he was still an eleven-year-old boy, very new to the intricate game of wizarding politics. Dumbledore, on the other hand, was a figure with at least a century's worth of experience, having fought against two Dark Lords and vanquished one with his own hands. Underestimating such a formidable wizard would be a grave mistake.

As the train journeyed through the scenic landscapes, Harry's thoughts wandered to the challenges and mysteries that awaited him at Hogwarts. "Master Harry, remember that every chessboard has its pawns and knights, but also a player moving the pieces," Nigel advised, his voice a blend of wisdom and subtle warning.

Harry nodded slightly, acknowledging Nigel's counsel. "I intend to be a player, not a piece," he resolved once more, his eyes reflecting determination. The idea of being manipulated by Dumbledore or anyone else was not something Harry would entertain. He was determined to carve his own destiny, using his knowledge, skills, and the support of Nigel, his virtual mentor.

The train ride was a blend of quiet reading and introspective planning for Harry. While other students roamed the corridors, laughing and chatting, Harry remained in his compartment, immersed in his book and his thoughts. He was not anti-social, but he understood the importance of choosing allies wisely, especially in a world as complex as the one he was entering.

Harry raised his head, observing Ron Weasley sitting across from him after some time. The red-haired boy looked decidedly bored, his eyes aimlessly wandering the window's passing scenery. Harry, sensing an opportunity to gather information, placed a bookmark in his book, "The Little Prince," and turned his full attention to Ron. "So, do you know any spell?" he asked casually, his tone laced with curiosity.

Ron perked up at the question, eager to share. "Well, yeah, a few. My brothers showed me some stuff. Fred and George are always messing around with spells," he said with a hint of pride.

Harry noted Ron's response with interest. The information about Ron's family could be valuable; with three brothers currently at Hogwarts and a sister who would soon join, Ron's insights could offer a unique perspective on the school's dynamics. While Harry had no intention of choosing his friends solely for benefit, he was aware of the strategic importance of connections. Ron, with his direct link to the Weasley family, and Draco Malfoy, with his family's political influence, represented potential pawns in the complex game of wizarding politics.

As Harry contemplated his approach, he pondered the possibility of being sorted into Slytherin. 'What would Ron's reaction be if I were sorted into Slytherin?' he wondered, a sly smirk playing on his lips. He decided to test the waters, curious about Ron's stance on the house often maligned for its association with dark wizards.

Before Ron could delve deeper into his limited spell knowledge, a lady with a snack trolley passed by their compartment. "Anything off the trolley, dears?" she asked cheerfully.

Harry observed Ron's reaction closely. The boy hesitantly pulled out a poorly wrapped sandwich from his bag and declined the offer. Harry's keen eye didn't miss the details - the sandwich's unappealing appearance, Ron's slightly embarrassed refusal, and the longing glance he cast at the trolley's treats. It was evident to Harry that the Weasleys, despite their noble bloodline, faced financial constraints.

With a subtle movement, Harry reached for his pocket, extracting a few galleons. Addressing the trolley lady, he said with a genuine smile, "Bit of everything, please." His gesture was both generous and tactical, aiming to put Ron at ease and perhaps loosen his tongue.

As the lady began piling an assortment of sweets and snacks onto their compartment, Ron's eyes widened in amazement. Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Cauldron Cakes, Pumpkin Pasties, and more were spread out before them. Ron's expression, a mix of surprise and gratitude, did not escape Harry's notice.

"Go on, help yourself," Harry encouraged, nudging a Chocolate Frog towards Ron. The boy hesitated for a moment before eagerly grabbing the treat, his eyes lighting up with delight.

As Ron indulged in the snacks, Harry casually steered the conversation back to Hogwarts. "So, your brothers are in Gryffindor, right? What can you tell me about the other houses?" Harry asked, feigning ignorance.

Ron, his mouth full of Cauldron Cake, nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, all Weasleys end up in Gryffindor. It's the best house, really. Brave, noble, and all that. Slytherin's the worst - full of dark wizards and such," he said, echoing the sentiment Harry had heard earlier.

Harry nodded thoughtfully, his mind analyzing Ron's words. 'It's crucial to understand these house stereotypes firsthand.' He knew that every piece of information, every perspective, could prove useful in navigating the complexities of Hogwarts. Sadly the red head repeated same sentences over and over again.

Harry, his curiosity piqued, casually probed Ron further. "What do you think of me, Sir Weasley? Do you think I am evil?" he asked, his tone light yet probing.

Ron, his mouth still full of chocolate, shook his head vigorously, bits of melted chocolate on his fingers. "No way! You're Harry Potter. You-Know-Who's vanquisher. You can't be bad," he replied with conviction.

"But what if I end up in Slytherin?" Harry pressed, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Ron, still chewing, vehemently shook his head. "Impossible. You're Harry Potter," he repeated, as if that settled the matter. "Slytherin's for the likes of... well, not you."

Harry's smirk deepened. 'How naive,' he thought, amused. Out loud, he asked, "Do you know how the sorting process works?"

Ron, now swallowing his mouthful, replied, "My brothers won't tell me. Fred and George joked about fighting a dragon, but that's got to be a lie, right?"

"Who knows? I've heard it's quite random," Harry said with a shrug. "So, if I were sorted into Slytherin, would that make me evil?"

Ron hesitated, his expression uncertain. "I... I don't know," he finally admitted.

'Interesting,' Harry mused internally. He decided to drop the topic for now, focusing instead on the snacks before them.

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