Chapter 12
"That was an exhausting trip," I thought as I stretched and hopped down from the stopped train… Early night already ruled outside, Hogwarts students swarmed everywhere, and I had finally managed to shake Draco Malfoy and his company. More precisely, Draco had left on his own, remembering his father had instructed him to meet a few people before even setting foot in the school.
As Draco himself put it, it was just a formality—he had known everyone on his list of future Slytherins for ages anyway. The magical world was small, especially when it came to the even more closed society of old families… a circle two boys had sincerely tried to pull me into, promising to introduce one modest hero to all the "right" wizards and "useful" people.
But for now, I declined. That move would make sense if I were going to the snake House… Without that, casual introductions to Malfoy's circle risked being completely useless for me. Not guaranteed, of course, but… I was simply too tired of talking to the future Slytherin trio.
Malfoy, Goyle, and Crabbe were remarkably clingy boys. And while I'd learned a huge amount of useful information from them during the ride, I had no desire to continue at that pace. So I was genuinely glad the trip was over, listening with quiet satisfaction to this new place.
Magic was everywhere, magical objects were everywhere, and as for wizards… honestly, on the train, when I tried to listen with my magical sense, I'd felt a little sick. There were too many sources of magic around! It confused and disoriented me. I wasn't used to that kind of concentration of everything enchanted.
But now I'd more or less adjusted, no longer trying to sense the whole space around me. Instead, I focused on the sources of magic that passed almost right beside me… It was fascinating to compare the "brightness" and "strength" of ordinary students, first-years, and Krusho. He, by the way, still led by a huge margin. Regular kids barely registered compared to him.
"I wonder how 'bright' my magic looks. Did my training actually do anything, or did living near magical sources completely cancel out all my work?" I worried, already noticing that Draco stood out among the first-years in a favorable way.
"First-years! Over here! All of you, over here!" a giant bearded man pulled me out of my thoughts… His magic felt strange. But he was strong—among the wizards I knew, he only really fell behind McGonagall, sitting around Krusho's level.
"Convenient," I smirked, moving toward our greeter. The man's appearance didn't exactly inspire calm. It's hard to stay calm when something three meters tall is shouting in a bass voice and you're only an eleven-year-old boy.
Still, that mild discomfort didn't stop me from continuing to evaluate the kids around me with a certain satisfaction… Whatever my own magic looked like compared to my peers, the ability to measure other people's strength was priceless. After today's ride, I was sure of it. From very careful questions to Draco, I'd learned that most wizards, at least, didn't have this kind of sensitivity.
Good… even if I couldn't enjoy it for long. Hagrid—because the three-meter giant was indeed him—led the first-years deeper into a forest drowned in darkness… And only a few minutes into the walk, we saw a wide lake and a breathtaking, enchanting view of the ancient castle's towering silhouette. Even without any special sensitivity, you could feel the pressure, the magic, and the sheer grandeur.
I don't know how to describe it exactly. The plain outward look of an old building didn't convey what I felt when I looked at Hogwarts… But I completely missed the moment we were practically forced into boats, four to a boat. And after that, I wasn't exactly eager to get to know new travel companions either.
The castle was what mattered… and the magical pressure slowly fading. I don't know whether my senses simply adapted that quickly to the "blinding light" of Hogwarts magic, or whether something actually changed as we approached. But by the time we reached our future place of study, I had calmed down completely and stopped over-focusing on the background magic around me.
Minerva McGonagall's appearance, as she took the new first-years from Hagrid, snapped me out of my trance. The witch I already knew began lecturing us again in a mentoring, instructive tone about what would happen next and how we were supposed to behave over the next few hours.
Nothing unusual, but even I felt my nerves twitching slightly in anticipation of the Sorting… And the rest of the kids were far worse. Even the toughest of them couldn't fully suppress what they felt. Quiet murmurs, whispers, and an atmosphere of nervous excitement bloomed at full strength.
It got especially entertaining when ghosts arrived to greet the newcomers. What a spectacle—and what a game to play with children's emotions. I remembered something like this from the films, at least knew Hogwarts had plenty of ghosts and that most were harmless, but meeting those cold knots of magic in person still knocked the wind out of me.
"Maybe the staff does this on purpose. To shake up the first-years emotionally after a long, exhausting trip?" I tried distracting myself with thoughts that weren't particularly important while we all waited to enter the Great Hall… where the rest of the students, the staff, and a slightly off-key singing witch's hat were already waiting.
"It just keeps getting weirder and weirder," I couldn't help a nervous chuckle—and immediately caught the gaze of a slightly disheveled brunette with a huge mane of hair. She looked ready to say something about my… probably not very respectful attitude toward an ancient artifact. But McGonagall cut her off, called the first-years forward, and began the Sorting.
From the outside, it looked very magical and yet… oddly mundane. The professor called future students alphabetically, sat each on a tall stool, and placed the enchanted hat on their head. The hat mumbled something almost inaudible, and then loudly announced the student's House.
Nothing too exciting, but nerve-wracking, damn it. And the hat reeked of magic… not strongly, but in a very unusual way. I'd never encountered anything like it before. Alongside the general nerves, I now wanted to study the Sorting Hat more closely with my sensitivity.
"Harry Potter!" And right when I started fully concentrating on the talking artifact, the Transfiguration professor finally called me forward… instantly triggering a low roar of whispers among the students. Even among the professors, many looked at me with clear interest.
"You're really not helping," I cursed silently, moving toward McGonagall anyway. My nerves were acting up, the attention was stressful, and my desire to examine the Hat faded… right up until the moment that strange thing landed on my head.
"Oooh, interesting!" it immediately perked up and started talking to me. "Never seen anything like this. Only heard rumors, but I've never personally encountered it!"
"Honored Hat?" I frowned, addressing the artifact silently—and honestly feeling a jolt of fear at its words. Had the Hat really just learned about my past life, or something like that?
"Oh, don't worry, young man. It's just the grumbling of an old, long-mad artifact. Better tell me—what House does such an interesting wizard want?" the headwear continued, not giving me a second to respond. "Although no, don't tell me. It's obvious! Ravenclaw!" the Hat shouted at the top of its nonexistent lungs.
"Congratulations, Mr. Potter. Wear your House colors with honor and dignity," Minerva smiled at me, looking surprised—and not particularly pleased—that I hadn't gone to Gryffindor… I was surprised too, by the way. I thought fate itself had reserved the lion House for me. And in a way, that would have been nice. Avoiding trouble is easier when you already know what's coming.
But this was fine too. Ravenclaw was no worse than Gryffindor, and I'd even be able to brag to Krusho that I'd ended up in his House. Talking to Draco would be easier too… In short, I'd survive just fine without my memories of the old story. Those memories weren't exactly detailed or reliable anyway. Besides, the Hat and its words were a much bigger concern now…
"Did it really read my entire memory in seconds? No, that's nonsense. Artifacts like that simply can't exist… And even if they did, they wouldn't be used as some status toy and tribute to old traditions!" I tried to calm myself while greeting my new House with nods and handshakes… but I still couldn't take my eyes off that strange Hat.
Terrifying thing—and I had no idea what to do about it. The only hope was that since I'd already been accepted into Hogwarts and passed the entrance ceremony, the Hat wouldn't go telling anyone about my origins… The faith I had in that was small, of course. As small as my hope that I'd simply misunderstood the artifact.
But I had no choice. I could only keep relying on blind luck and the classic, reckless "maybe it'll work out"… while also remembering my plan to get into mental magic as soon as possible. It had already been near the top of my list before, but now… If I knew the way to the library, I'd have run there right this second, just to calm my nerves and paranoia. This magical world—and Hogwarts in particular—was hitting me far too sharply and brightly.
At least they didn't drag the Sorting out forever. Within ten minutes, the feast began… And food, you know, is also an excellent way to relieve stress. You shouldn't overdo it, of course, but while I'm young and still growing fast, I think I can ignore the small details.