A Certain Magical Hogwarts

Some people enter the scene and bring laughter; others come in with background music. Then there are those who think a simple BGM isn't enough and just bring their own speakers.

The tall, black-haired witch before them, dressed in an emerald-green robe, didn't come with any flashy sounds. Instead, she brought a gust of cold wind with her.

The room fell silent. Moments ago, the young wizards had been grumbling, but now, no one dared to utter a word.

Professor McGonagall—the very witch the Weasley twins feared most—stood there with a stern expression, lips pressed tightly together.

"First-year students, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid quickly announced, avoiding the witch's gaze.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I'll take them from here."

Hagrid shot William a look of 'good luck' before hastily turning and retreating down a side corridor.

It seemed even he was a little on edge.

And who wouldn't be? After all, Hagrid had violated magical laws multiple times over the summer, secretly acquiring a Ministry-banned, three-headed dog. 

Now, with guilt looming over him, he was clearly nervous—even though McGonagall had once been his junior at school!

Professor McGonagall pushed the doors wide open, revealing a grand marble staircase that stretched upwards. All around, the stone walls were lit by blazing torches, and the ceiling was so high it was barely visible.

The first-year students followed Professor McGonagall across the stone floor. From the door to their right, the sound of hundreds of people chatting loudly filled the air.

But instead of leading them directly into the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall turned and guided them into a small, empty chamber at the far end of the hall.

Everyone crammed inside, shoulder to shoulder, nervously scanning their surroundings.

"First of all, welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall began her speech. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you must each be sorted into one of the four houses."

"Sorting is a very important ceremony because while you're here at Hogwarts, your house will be like your family. You will have classes with the rest of your housemates, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend your free time in your house common room."

"The names of the four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and has produced many outstanding witches and wizards."

"While you're at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will result in the loss of points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will be awarded the House Cup—a great honour."

"I hope each of you will bring honor to your house, whichever it may be, rather than cause mischief!"

Her last words were drawn out, and as she spoke them, she cast a sharp glance at William.

Through those stern eyes, William had the distinct feeling that she somehow knew about the incident on the train.

His instincts were rarely wrong.

However, he was just one of the many minor accomplices—far less noteworthy compared to the true masterminds, the notorious Weasley twins and that thieving Niffler!

At least, that's how William comforted his fragile and innocent heart.

Luckily for him, McGonagall only gave him a brief look and didn't call him out in front of everyone.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, William thought that someone with weaker nerves might have burst into tears from the pressure alone.

No wonder everyone feared Professor McGonagall!

"In a few minutes, the Sorting Ceremony will take place in front of the entire school. I suggest you all take a moment to calm your nerves."

"I'll return to fetch you when everything is ready." Professor McGonagall turned to leave, but not before adding, "While you wait, please remain quiet."

As soon as she left the room, however, the first-years started buzzing with nervous chatter.

"How exactly do they decide which house we're sorted into?" asked a girl, turning toward William.

The girl's name was Marietta Edgecombe. She had been in the same boat as William earlier and had been so frightened she almost clung to him for safety.

William didn't answer—he had no idea how the Sorting was done either.

Standing nearby, a boy named Cormac McLaggen puffed out his chest and boasted, "Whatever the test is, I'm sure I'll get in! My uncle—"

His uncle, Tiberius, was acquainted with Rufus Scrimgeour, the Head of the Auror Office at the Ministry of Magic.

By this point, McLaggen had repeated this fact four or five times.

The nature of humans, it seemed, was to be like broken records—repeating the same things over and over. And wizards were no exception.

McLaggen also bragged about his flying skills, claiming he would make the Quidditch team as a first-year, becoming the youngest player in history.

As he spoke, McLaggen shot William a challenging look.

This attitude clearly stemmed from the moment McLaggen learned that William was from a Muggle family.

William reached for his wand, tempted to cast a Silencing Charm to shut the boy up. But just then, Professor McGonagall returned.

Immediately, William put on his best "model student" expression.

Unfortunately for McLaggen, McGonagall had appeared behind him like a ghost. Oblivious, the boy continued to prattle on about his uncle's connections.

"I don't care about your uncle," Professor McGonagall said sternly. "But if you don't stop talking, I'll send you home right this minute!"

McLaggen's legs turned to jelly. He nearly knocked over Marietta Edgecombe in his panic.

The girl gave him a death glare before sidling closer to William.

Behind McGonagall, Cho made faces at William, encouraging him to "seize the opportunity."

Seize what opportunity? William thought to himself. He was here to study, not to get involved in romantic entanglements!

Though, if a pretty witch came along, he wouldn't mind becoming "soulmates" with her.

But as for Marietta Edgecombe—this little girl was definitely not his type.

Suddenly, a terrified scream pierced the air.

McLaggen yelped, stumbling backward. A group of ghosts had floated into the room.

Everyone seemed to freeze, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees.

The ghosts, pearl-white and semi-transparent, drifted through the room, chatting among themselves, barely noticing the terrified first-years.

They seemed to be debating something.

"Let's fetch the Bloody Baron. He's the only one who can control Peeves," said one ghost, dressed in a ruffled collar.

"The Bloody Baron's gone to speak with the Grey Lady," replied a ghost dressed as a plump monk. "You know there's been trouble in the Ravenclaw common room recently."

"Then perhaps we should give Peeves one last chance. If we let him attend the feast—"

"Absolutely not! My dear Friar, have we not given Peeves enough chances? He's nothing but trouble—Oh, hello! Who do we have here?"

The ghost in the ruffled collar finally noticed the first-years.

McLaggen, terrified, tried to hide behind William. Professor McGonagall pursed her lips even tighter.

"New students, eh?" said the Fat Friar, smiling warmly. "I assume you're here for the Sorting?"

William nodded politely.

"Well, I do hope you'll be sorted into Hufflepuff!" the Friar said cheerfully. "That was my old house."

The ghosts drifted toward the Great Hall, passing through the opposite wall and disappearing from sight. Then, Professor McGonagall's voice cut through the room once more.

"Now, follow me. The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin," she instructed the first-years.

Everyone obediently filed out of the room and followed her toward the Great Hall.