Chapter 05

They were gone for quite some time, only returning well after the train had started moving.

"My goodness, John, you won't believe who I saw!" Neville burst out, practically incoherent with excitement when he got back, leaving John thoroughly confused.

Hermione, standing beside him, raised her voice slightly to provide a clear explanation. "Harry Potter! The 'Boy Who Lived' from the stories! He's on the train!" Recalling the rather ordinary-looking boy she'd seen, Hermione tilted her chin up proudly. "The famous Harry Potter didn't seem all that special."

"But my Gran says Harry Potter defeated You-Know-Who and saved the wizarding world!" Neville countered.

The pair launched into a debate. Hearing this, John realized what he'd missed. The legendary first meeting of the Golden Trio had happened right here on the train! A pang of regret hit him. How could I have forgotten that?

The train journeyed for several hours, arriving at Hogwarts as darkness fell. Following Hermione's reminder, John changed into his school robes. The formal attire, combined with his sharp features, lent him an air of intriguing mystery.

Even before disembarking, John spotted Hagrid's immense silhouette through the window, illuminated by the lantern he carried – a beacon in the night. First-years gasped in awe at his size, while older students filed away in orderly lines led by their Prefects.

John noticed a boy with shockingly red hair beside Harry – a trademark that screamed 'Weasley'. The gaggle of new students followed Hagrid towards Hogwarts.

Boarding the boats on the Black Lake, John remembered to ask Neville, "Did you find your toad, Neville?"

Neville's round face fell. In the excitement of seeing Harry, he'd completely forgotten about Trevor! Now they were on the boat, and Trevor was still missing. Neville looked close to tears.

John, the inadvertent cause of this predicament (having suggested staying behind), remained remarkably calm. He recalled Neville's toad usually turned up at the Hogwarts entrance. Watching the films years ago, he'd always been baffled – where did that toad disappear to on the train, only to reappear at the castle? Did it possess some innate magical creature ability? Magical creatures were a vital part of this world's charm.

...

"Mind yer heads!" Hagrid's booming voice echoed across the water. Hermione and Neville instinctively ducked low. Only John remained upright. As their boat passed under the ivy, they realized the warning was primarily for Hagrid's benefit – his head barely cleared the stone archway.

Emerging onto the shore, the first-years finally set foot in Hogwarts. The ancient castle, over a thousand years old, loomed majestically in the darkness, radiating an aura of profound mystery. Their footsteps echoed on the worn stone steps as they ascended.

At the massive oak doors stood Professor McGonagall, waiting with stern composure. Unlike her visit to the Wick home, she now wore a tall, pointed black witch's hat, adding an extra measure of authority.

She gave Hagrid a brief nod. "Welcome," she said, her voice crisp and carrying easily in the cool night air, "to Hogwarts."

[Ding. Initiating Hogwarts Phase Quest One: Survive the First Year as a Magical Apprentice. Reward: Blood of Magic +1, Allocation Points +2]

(Note: Relevant task rewards will be awarded upon triggering specific sub-quests.)

As Professor McGonagall spoke, the system prompt flashed in John's mind. His gaze went distant, glazing over as if lost in thought. Before him, a semi-transparent panel materialized, etched like script on glass. Its layout was starkly simple, divided into four sections:

...

Mana: Level 1 (0/100)

Spells: Alohomora (Level 3)

Skills: Small Arms Proficiency (Level 7), Polearms Proficiency (Level 6), Heavy Weapons Proficiency (Level 3), Firearms Proficiency (Level 1)

Enhancements: Robust Physique, Swift Strikes, Pinpoint Accuracy

...

John blinked, his eyes feeling dry. After returning from Diagon Alley, he'd dedicated a month to magical practice. He'd managed to get Alohomora to Level 3. The spell now even unlocked the supposedly secret safe his father had hidden from his mother. This little exploit had also allowed him to handle the pistol inside, granting him the new Firearms Proficiency skill.

Professor McGonagall continued her introduction of the four Hogwarts houses. John already knew this part and tuned it out.

Neville suddenly gasped. Spotting Trevor on the steps, he cried out and darted from the line to retrieve him. Soft giggles rippled through the group of first-years. Blushing fiercely, Neville scurried back, shrinking under the attention.

As Professor McGonagall turned to prepare for the Sorting Ceremony, a small boy with slicked-back blond hair – Draco Malfoy – initiated what could only be described as the beginning of a legendary love-hate relationship with Harry Potter.

"So it's true then," Malfoy drawled, flanked by his ever-present shadows, Crabbe and Goyle. He positioned himself on the steps above Harry, radiating inherited superiority. "Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts." He introduced himself with affected grandeur: "Draco Malfoy."

His mannerisms embodied pure-blood arrogance. Everything Ron Weasley despised. Ron couldn't suppress a derisive snort. It wasn't loud, but it reached Malfoy's ears.

Malfoy swiveled, his pale eyes sweeping over Ron. Recognizing the tell-tale signs – the flaming red hair, the shabby, second-hand robes – his lip curled in undisguised contempt. "Red hair, hand-me-down robes... You must be a Weasley."

Ron flinched, the barb striking true. With seven children, hand-me-downs were a necessity in the Weasley household.

Having dismissed the Weasley, Malfoy turned his charm back on Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." The fact that the proud Malfoy offered his hand at all showed a genuine desire for Harry's friendship.

John frowned. Reading about Malfoy's arrogance was one thing; hearing it firsthand was distinctly unpleasant. The implication that anyone not of pure blood was inferior made John's knuckles itch with the urge to wipe that smug look off Malfoy's face.

Malfoy, however, had forgotten one crucial detail: Harry was already friends with Ron. No one appreciates their friends being insulted to their face.

"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks," Harry replied coolly, rejecting the offered handshake. Malfoy's pale cheeks flushed with humiliation.

As the two boys locked gazes (a charged moment, though hardly romantic), John couldn't help but shake his head slightly. Young Malfoy, that is not quite how you win friends. He subtly edged forward, closer to Neville. Hermione, noticing his movement, followed suit, perhaps worried John was about to start a fight on the first night – a bad idea in any school, magical or not. Her concern proved unnecessary, as Professor McGonagall returned promptly and ushered them all inside in a single line.

The Great Hall was breathtaking. The ceiling mirrored the starry night sky outside, while hundreds of candles floated in mid-air, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. Four long tables, packed with students bearing different coloured trim on their robes, represented the houses: scarlet and gold for Gryffindor, blue and bronze for Ravenclaw, green and silver for Slytherin, and yellow and black for Hufflepuff. Enormous hourglasses filled with gemstones stood at the head of the hall, tracking each house's points.

Older students watched the new arrivals with interest. Beside John, Hermione launched into a detailed monologue drawn straight from Hogwarts: A History. John felt a mild headache coming on. No wonder Ron and Harry found her grating at first, he thought. Kids that age have strong pride, and a peer constantly flaunting superior knowledge can be intensely annoying. Thankfully, John wasn't a child, and he didn't find Hermione irritating. His attention was drawn to the figure seated at the centre of the staff table.

The old wizard with a long, silver beard that could have been woven from moonlight, half-moon spectacles perched on his crooked nose, radiating an aura of profound kindness and immense power. This was more than just the Headmaster of Hogwarts. He was the acknowledged pinnacle of magical might in their world, the figure both Dark Lords had feared most, the steadfast guardian of the magical realm, the wizard who could summon a phoenix. The so-called "White Lord" of the wizarding world: Albus Dumbledore.

John's curious stare didn't go unnoticed. Dumbledore, never one to ignore a student, met his gaze. A spark of amusement lit the old wizard's bright blue eyes, and with a touch of playful secrecy, he gave John a deliberate, knowing wink.