The first-years passed through the towering oak doors and followed the stone steps upward, their shoes clicking softly against the floor as the noise of the station faded behind them. At the end of the entrance hall, Professor McGonagall was already waiting outside the doors to the Great Hall, her sharp gaze sweeping over the nervous crowd with practiced calm.
"Welcome to Hogwarts." Professor McGonagall first offered a formal welcome to every young witch and wizard before continuing in her crisp voice. "In a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your new schoolmates."
"Before you take your seats, however, you must be Sorted into your houses." Her eyes moved across the group as she explained the importance of the four houses, the House Cup, and the points students could earn or lose throughout the year.
When Professor McGonagall mentioned the Sorting Hat, every young wizard listened with intense attention. Roger, however, stared at her with another kind of longing entirely, silently wondering whether the professor had remembered her promise to return his wand once he was officially enrolled.
"At the end of the academic year, the house with the highest number of points will be awarded the House Cup." Just as Professor McGonagall finished speaking, a croaking toad suddenly landed on the steps nearby.
"Trevor!" Neville recognised the missing toad at once and rushed forward in delight. He scooped up the little creature as if he had found a lost treasure, his whole face lighting up with relief.
"How did you know?" Hermione asked in a low voice, looking at Roger with obvious surprise. Elena, standing beside her, also stared curiously, as if wondering whether Roger had some gift for prophecy.
"Don't look at me. I was only guessing." Roger raised both hands innocently, then glanced back toward Professor McGonagall with an expression that practically asked, Where is my wand?
Professor McGonagall gave Neville a stern look and silently ordered him back into line. Some of the other first-years giggled shrilly, mocking Neville's clumsiness, but he only hugged Trevor tighter and hurried back to the group.
"The Sorting Ceremony will begin shortly." Professor McGonagall turned and left, completely ignoring the expectant look in Roger's eyes.
"It seems the rumours on the train were true. Harry Potter really has come to Hogwarts." Draco Malfoy stepped forward, clearly intending to build a connection with Harry, but his arrogant manner made the saviour visibly uncomfortable.
Malfoy's mockery of Ron Weasley only made Harry dislike him more. That smug expression, the casual cruelty, and the habit of looking down on others all reminded Harry far too much of Dudley, so when Malfoy offered his hand, Harry refused without hesitation.
Professor McGonagall noticed that the first-years had still not entered and came back out to see what was happening. She tapped Malfoy, who was blocking the doorway, with a rolled-up piece of parchment and said sharply, "Are you ready? Follow me, everyone."
Roger, who had fallen slightly behind, opened his mouth with deep grievance. "My wand, Professor. My dear Professor McGonagall."
The doors opened, and the Great Hall of Hogwarts appeared before them. The dark ceiling shimmered with starlight like a true night sky, while rows of floating candles hung in mid-air, their golden flames echoing the firelight along the walls.
Four long tables were arranged neatly through the hall, each one filled with students in black school robes. A closer look showed that the tables corresponded to the four houses, and each group carried its own distinct mood.
Roger chuckled when he saw so many pointed hats. "The more I look at them, the more they resemble nightcaps."
On the staff platform at the far end of the hall sat Headmaster Dumbledore, his silver beard bright beneath the candlelight. Other professors sat beside him, each watching the new students with varying degrees of interest, boredom, suspicion, or amusement.
"The ceiling isn't the real night sky. It's enchanted to look that way," Hermione explained to Elena as they walked, pointing upward. "I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."
"Miss Know-It-All, the ceiling was designed by Rowena Ravenclaw, the most learned of the four founders." Roger smiled and looked up, his tone carrying genuine appreciation. "This is not simply an illusion, but magic of exceptional intelligence and imagination."
"The entire castle of Hogwarts owes a great deal to Lady Ravenclaw." Roger deliberately repeated the name, hoping Hermione would remember it. "The spatial manipulation and adaptive enchantments here are extraordinary. In fact, the night sky above us may not be entirely fake; it may even carry a trace of prophetic power."
Based on his understanding of what would happen in the future, Roger speculated quietly, "If the future became uncertain enough, perhaps the ceiling would turn completely dark and no longer show the stars."
Hermione wrinkled her nose and glared at him. Whenever Roger called her Miss Know-It-All, he would immediately launch into some barrage of knowledge that she could not easily refute, and that made her extremely annoyed.
"How do you know Transfiguration was used?" Hermione asked sharply, unwilling to let him get away with sounding so certain.
"Such a large surface would require spatial magic to seal the area first, and then Transfiguration could be used to adjust the star positions in real time." Roger paused halfway through his explanation, then frowned and shook his head. "No, I was wrong."
He looked at Hermione seriously. "I apologise, Miss Granger. I initially thought Lady Ravenclaw used Transfiguration to align the stars here with the sky outside."
"But actually, it should be ancient illusion magic." Seeing Hermione's confusion, Roger explained further. "This kind of magic is recorded in Ancient Magical Remnants. It can render changes in real time, which means it can capture the corresponding movements of the actual sky with almost perfect precision."
Hermione nodded, surprised that such a magnificent ceiling concealed such deep magical principles. She thanked Roger for the explanation, but that did not mean she forgave him for calling her Miss Know-It-All.
"That was still sarcasm." Hermione rolled her eyes at him and pulled Elena forward.
Professor McGonagall led the first-years between two long tables to a footstool beneath the staff platform. On it lay an old, battered hat covered in wrinkles and patches, and its worn shape looked almost grotesque under the candlelight.
The first-years waited quietly, and then the Sorting Hat suddenly split open along a crease like a mouth and began to sing. Its song described the four founders, the qualities of each house, and the kind of students they welcomed.
The professors were clearly used to this scene happening every year and even applauded the Sorting Hat's wildly uneven singing. The first-years, however, were startled, because no one had warned them that an ancient hat could suddenly howl like a street performer with too much confidence.
"Before we begin, Headmaster Dumbledore has a few words to say." Professor McGonagall stood on the platform and gestured for the new students to be quiet.
Dumbledore rose slowly, his blue eyes bright behind his half-moon spectacles. "Before the term begins, I have several points to make."
"The first point has three main points, and every main point contains three smaller points, each of which applies to several different situations." Listening to Dumbledore begin, Roger suddenly remembered jokes from his old life about endless leadership speeches, and a smile appeared on his face before he could stop it.
Unfortunately, unlike those terrible jokes, Dumbledore seemed to understand that young wizards disliked long-winded speeches. His remarks were brief, and he only placed special emphasis on one rule: "No student may enter the Forbidden Forest."
"Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has also asked me to remind you that if you do not wish to die a very painful death, you should not enter the corridor on the right-hand side of the fourth floor." Dumbledore shook his head slightly, and his tone was serious enough that no one mistook it for a joke.
Knowing what would happen this year, Roger could not help glancing at Snape and Quirrell, who were seated near each other in an arrangement that seemed almost amusing. Perhaps Dumbledore had discovered the secret behind Quirrell's turban on the very first day of term.
"For Harry Potter, our saviour, Headmaster, you have really gone to great lengths." Roger looked toward Harry, who was curiously observing everything in the Great Hall. "All of this has been carefully prepared as material for his growth."
Professor McGonagall opened a long roll of parchment, picked up the Sorting Hat, and said, "When I call your name, you will come forward. I shall place the Sorting Hat on your head, and you will be Sorted into your house."
With the Sorting Ceremony about to begin, Roger had his own plans and arrangements, and unless absolutely necessary, he had no intention of joining Dumbledore's private lessons for Harry.
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