- What makes you think so?
- An artificially created intelligent being based on a headdress-what else is that, in your opinion, if not artificial intelligence?
- Oh... I guess you're right, Richie.
- SLYTHERIN!
Richard noticed that the hat had just sorted Malfoy. His henchmen had followed him to the same house, as had the much-put-upon Miss Parkinson, who was ashamed to sit at the same table with the Earl.
Particular attention was drawn to the attractive twin girls, dark-haired Indians with slightly tanned skin and the last name Patil. Rich was familiar with the name. Having a good memory in this life, he immediately recalled: Azim Hashim Patil-Indian multimillionaire, owner of the Vipro corporation. Hereditary Brahmin. Formerly a wholesale food distributor, he currently invests in IT technology, so he will likely become a billionaire in the future.
It's understandable that the daughters of such a man ended up at Hogwarts. It's become fashionable for wealthy Indians to buy property in the UK and obtain British citizenship.
Richard wasn't about to miss out on such connections. However, a slight problem arose when the twins were sorted into different houses: Parvati was assigned to Gryffindor, and Padma to the Ravenclaw table.
What struck Richard most was Harry Potter's sorting. He sat on the stool for quite a while, but eventually the hat exclaimed:
- GRYFFINDOR!
Harry Potter cast a guilty glance at the Hufflepuff table. The hall erupted in wild applause. No one had ever been applauded so loudly before.
Upon reflection, Richard discovered that all the prerequisites for such a placement were in place. Even when Harry bought the wand and the shop assistant described its owner as a stubborn adventurer, it was clear where he would end up.
But Ron Weasley's sorting was no secret to anyone - he was almost immediately sorted into Gryffindor, which greatly delighted his brothers Fred, George, and the lanky, red-haired fifteen-year-old Percy.
"It's a shame Harry and Ron went to Gryffindor and not to us," Justin said regretfully.
"It happens," Richard remained unperturbed. "Even twins are sorted into different houses, so what can we say about acquaintances?"
Dumbledore's speech passed Richard by. He was too deep in thought, mentally composing letters to his father, Mr. Blade, Arthur Weasley, and Scott Potter.
The simplest letter was to my father. It was enough to write that my application to the magic school had gone well and add a few facts.
The letter to Arthur Weasley proved more difficult. He needed clear instructions for the development of new magical gadgets based on the spells observed during the trip. This included the development of quantum transmitters, AI, a free energy generator, and something akin to a perpetual motion machine for spacecraft. To waste such a device on anything else would be sacrilege. Surely not installing it on cars! Wizards are in short supply.
Richard understood that thirty wizards was becoming too few for the full range of tasks. Therefore, he needed to find room in the letter to order an expansion of the staff and a budget increase. The transmigrator feared this would create additional headaches for everyone. After all, Arthur Weasley was already struggling to balance his position at the Ministry of Magic, where he was so desperately needed, with managing the workshop. Therefore, it was imperative to find a new leader, and to do so in a way that would be both honest and responsible, without offending Arthur.
Scott Potter was a different story. Firstly, Richard was absolutely certain Harry Potter would forget to write to his uncle. And Scott had become very attached to his nephew and was probably worried about him. He needed to describe their arrival, where they'd enrolled, and say everything was fine. Secondly, he needed to assign a detective to find out the full background of Hermione Granger and the Patil sisters-whether they were the daughters of a little-known millionaire. Of course, ideally, he'd get a file on all his classmates, or better yet, all the Hogwarts students. But Richie had only learned the names of the first-years so far. So that could wait.
Blade's situation is clear-he's a liaison for a secret service, and Richard needs specialists to help the wizards understand how to combine magic and technology. This proved even more challenging than with the wizards, as he needed to clearly explain what exactly was needed without delving into technical jargon, quantum physics, and higher mathematics.
When the formulas of quantum physics, which the transmigrator hated during his university studies in a past life but meticulously memorized and knew thanks to a strict teacher, are floating in his head, there is no time for such trifles as ghosts flying around, noisy children and a table full of various dishes.
Richie ate mechanically, unaware of the taste of his food. Naturally, he ate flawlessly with a fork and knife, but he also resembled a soulless robot, his thoughts far removed from reality and his gaze empty and cold, like the Terminator's. This behavior scared off most of the children, who avoided him altogether, chatting heatedly among themselves.
Richard only found out that dinner was over when Justin nudged him with his elbow and said:
- Richie, get up, we're going to sing the Hogwarts school song now.
- School song? I'm getting up.
What happened next could hardly be called an school song. The crowd screamed at every key, creating the impression of a madhouse. Finally, the "singing" ended and everyone was sent back to their living rooms.
A stocky, brown-haired man with a heavy chin and grey eyes attracted attention:
- First-years, come here! I'm your class monitor, Gabriel Truman. Follow me. Try to remember the landmarks and keep up.
The first-years followed the head teacher in a disorganized crowd. Fortunately, it wasn't far-all they had to do was pass through the large double doors, descend the stairs, and walk down a spacious corridor to the enormous oak wine barrels.
"Remember the knock," the prefect said, drawing attention to himself.
Truman tapped a simple rhythm with his knuckles on the second barrel from the bottom of the second row. The barrel's lid slid off.
"This opens the entrance to our common room. We don't hide our secret knock, and you're welcome to bring guests from other houses into our dorm. But try not to overuse it. If you knock on the wrong barrel or make the wrong knock, you'll be doused with vinegar."
The living room, accessed through a gentle passageway inside the barrel, turned out to be spacious and cozy, filled with soft armchairs, sofas, and rugs. The room was unusually round in shape, with relatively low ceilings for a castle of this size. The hall was decorated in cheerful, bee-like colors-black and yellow-highlighted by the use of highly polished honey-colored wood for the tables and round doors leading to the girls' and boys' rooms.
Gabriel led the first-year boys to their dormitory, which would become their main residence for the next five to seven years.