The scenery flashing by the window had grown steadily wilder. The orderly farmland had long since vanished, replaced by dense forests, winding rivers, and the dark, rolling hills of the North.
By the time the sky dimmed to a deep indigo, Ron and Flegg had finally wound down their lengthy debate over whether Quidditch or football was the superior sport. Neither had much idea what the other was talking about, but that didn't stop them from arguing at length—eventually settling on a passionate discussion about the relative merits of roast chicken versus crispy duck.
Harry was a good listener, nodding along as they rambled, though his fingers were mostly occupied flipping through Chocolate Frog cards. Whether it was luck or fate, he had somehow pulled three Dumbledores in a row. He didn't know whether to be impressed or annoyed.
"Get your robes on, we're nearly there," said Adrian Blackwood as he slid open the compartment door, glancing at the dim sky beyond the glass. "I asked a seventh-year. We'll be arriving soon."
Adrian had wandered off earlier, unable to resist the temptation to explore the train and escape the overlapping noise of Ron and Flegg for a while. He'd roamed a few carriages before bumping into a bushy-haired girl anxiously searching for someone's lost pet.
That was how he met Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom, both new to the wizarding world and looking rather frazzled. Hermione had insisted on introducing herself immediately and rattling off spells she'd read about. Neville, on the other hand, was on the verge of tears over his missing toad, Trevor.
Adrian had solved the problem in seconds, using a well-aimed Summoning Charm—Accio—though it took some restraint to keep his magic subtle. They weren't supposed to use spells yet, but technically, they hadn't reached Hogwarts. Besides, it was a harmless spell, and it left Hermione too awestruck to question it.
He had no interest in drawing too much attention to himself, especially from the future know-it-all of the class, but it was hard to ignore her enthusiasm. As for Neville, the kid looked like he needed a break from stress.
"Adrian, you're back!" Ron said as he shrugged on his robe. "You missed it—we had a run-in with Draco Malfoy and his two goons. If you'd been here, we could've flattened them!"
Ron wasn't wrong. Adrian, already stronger and more self-assured than most eleven-year-olds, easily towered over Malfoy's scrawny frame. Harry and Flegg both nodded in agreement.
Adrian just smirked. "If Malfoy tries anything serious, I'm not above using my fists. First-years don't know any spells anyway. One good punch can solve a lot of problems."
The boys quickly peeled off their coats and exchanged them for plain black school robes. Ron's hand-me-down robe was noticeably too short, exposing his ankles and scuffed shoes. It clearly came from one of his older—but shorter—brothers.
Ron looked embarrassed, but Adrian thought it seemed practical. At least he won't trip over it, he mused.
A voice echoed through the carriage: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes. Please leave your luggage on the train—it will be taken to the school separately."
Flegg gulped. "We're almost there. The wizarding world. I—I'm a little nervous."
He wasn't alone. Harry looked pale, one hand pressed against his stomach, and even Ron, who'd grown up in a magical household, had turned ghostly under his freckles. Adrian recalled the Weasley twins' dramatic stories about the Sorting Ceremony—tales that sounded more like pranks than actual Hogwarts policy.
Adrian shoved the remaining sweets into Harry's pocket and helped stow their coats into the overhead rack. Then, with the crowd of first-years already moving down the corridor, they joined the flow of students stepping off the train.
The Hogwarts Express hissed to a stop, and the doors opened. The platform they stepped onto was narrow, dark, and far colder than expected. Harry shivered and instinctively drew closer to Adrian, who didn't seem fazed.
Suddenly, a lantern swung high above the students' heads, casting flickering golden light across their faces.
"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" boomed a familiar voice. "Harry! Over here, how are yeh?"
The lantern lifted higher, and the towering silhouette of Rubeus Hagrid appeared, grinning under his wild beard. His great shaggy overcoat and tangled hair made him seem like a friendly giant to those who knew him—but to the others, he looked downright terrifying.
Adrian noticed a few wide-eyed students shrink back automatically.
"Come along now—mind yer step! Any more firs' years? Right, follow me! Keykeeper o' Hogwarts, tha's me—an' keeper o' the grounds!"
He turned with surprising grace and began leading the first-years down a steep, slippery path. The uneven terrain had most students stumbling.
Adrian, however, handled it with ease. His confident footing helped steady a few nearby kids who were slipping on loose stones.
He glanced ahead and caught sight of Ron, who was moving much faster than expected. His too-short robe made walking easier, and he practically skipped down the slope compared to the others.
Well, there's one benefit to hand-me-downs, Adrian thought wryly, picking up his pace.
Ahead, through the trees, he could just make out the flicker of torchlight—and beyond that, the glimmer of water under the moon.
Hogwarts awaited.
It was dark on both sides of the path, and a heavy silence fell over the group. The damp night air, paired with the rustling of unseen creatures in the trees, cast a tense atmosphere over the first-years.
"Turn this corner, yeh'll see Hogwarts for the first time," Hagrid called back, his lantern swinging in wide arcs.
A moment later, the group rounded the bend—and the students gasped as one.
A vast, black lake stretched out at the foot of a steep hillside. And across the still, moonlit waters, perched high atop a cliff, stood a huge castle, its many turrets and towers outlined in the starlight, windows glowing like scattered fireflies. The reflection of Hogwarts shimmered on the dark surface of the lake, as though a second castle lay sleeping below.
"Four to a boat!" Hagrid bellowed, gesturing toward the small fleet of wooden boats lined up at the water's edge.
Adrian Blackwood instantly understood the symbolic significance of the number: four boats, four founders. A subtle design, perhaps intentional, to echo the legacy of Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff—each with their own vision of the school's future. These boats would be their first trial, not just a ride across water.
But Ron had rushed ahead and already clambered into a boat with a few other excited students. Adrian quickly secured another, and Harry and Flegg climbed aboard beside him, trying not to rock the boat. Neville hesitated at the water's edge until Adrian extended a steadying hand. With a sigh of relief, Neville climbed in, clutching Trevor's box tightly.
"All in?" Hagrid called, taking up a boat of his own—he barely fit.
"Right then—forward!"
With no paddles or visible propulsion, the boats began to glide smoothly across the lake, cutting ripples across the glassy surface. The only sound was the soft lapping of water and the quiet gasps of awe as students gazed up at the towering silhouette of Hogwarts looming ever closer.
As they neared the base of the cliff, the castle seemed to rise higher still, impossibly vast above them.
"Heads down!" Hagrid shouted as the boats approached a curtain of ivy hanging over the cliff face.
Everyone ducked—though, in truth, only Hagrid needed to—and the boats slid effortlessly through the ivy and into a wide cavern hidden beneath the cliff. The air inside was damp and cool. The students floated down a tunnel, its walls glittering faintly with mineral deposits, before emerging at an underground dock, where they disembarked onto a shore of smooth pebbles and gravel.
Hagrid climbed out and led them to a massive wooden door. With a knock that echoed like thunder, he summoned the guardian of the castle.
The door creaked open to reveal a tall, severe-looking witch in emerald green robes. Her hair was tied in a tight bun, and her sharp gaze swept over the group like a hawk. Professor Minerva McGonagall.
With no unnecessary words, she turned and led the students through the vast entrance hall of Hogwarts, the flagstone floor echoing with their footsteps. She guided them into a small antechamber off the main hall.
Inside, the room was cramped, and the nervous energy among the first-years buzzed like electricity. McGonagall gave them a crisp introduction to the four houses of Hogwarts and explained that the Sorting Ceremony would begin shortly.
Harry glanced around, clearly trying to guess what kind of test awaited them. Judging by her tone and bearing, he assumed Professor McGonagall was strict and formidable.
The Muggle-born students looked anxious, whispering about what kind of magical trial might be coming. Those from wizarding families looked equally jittery—either they had heard disturbing rumors or had been fed half-truths by mischievous siblings. In either case, they were just as unprepared.
It seemed the adults had intentionally kept the Sorting vague. Perhaps it was a rite of passage to face uncertainty.
"How exactly do they know which house we belong in?" Harry whispered.
Flegg, wide-eyed, turned toward Adrian instead of Ron—who, despite being from a wizarding family, hadn't inspired much confidence so far.
"Relax," Adrian said with a calm smile. "It's not like they'll expel us if we mess up."
He didn't elaborate further. Watching everyone squirm was strangely satisfying. And besides, he knew the truth.
"It's probably some kind of test," Ron muttered. "Fred told me it really hurts, but he's always messing around."
Adrian didn't bother correcting him. They'd all find out soon enough. But unlike the others, Adrian wasn't worried about the test itself—it was the Sorting Hat he was wary of.
The hat could read minds. It could see your thoughts, your potential, your secrets. And Adrian Blackwood had many secrets.
That was why he'd trained for two years in Occlumency—the art of shielding one's mind. He didn't want the Sorting Hat—or worse, Dumbledore—to glimpse anything about the system, his knowledge of future events, or the truth behind his magical strength.
He knew first-years weren't expected to even know about mind magic. That might attract more attention than the secrets themselves. He'd have to walk a delicate line: enough openness to pass inspection, but not enough to raise eyebrows. If the hat saw only what he allowed it to see, he could steer the outcome.
I'm not ending up in Gryffindor, Adrian thought. Too flashy. Too risky. Let's see where the hat pushes… and if I need to nudge back.
His thoughts were interrupted as Harry gave a sudden yelp, leaping a foot in the air.
A series of shrieks followed from the others. The wall behind them had erupted with ghosts—silvery, translucent figures floating eerily through the room. They murmured to each other in hushed tones, pretending to ignore the panicked students.
Adrian recognized several of them: the Fat Friar of Hufflepuff, the Bloody Baron of Slytherin, and the Grey Lady of Ravenclaw. The ghosts introduced themselves or simply glided silently past, giving the first-years a taste of the castle's strange wonders.
Just as quickly as they'd appeared, the ghosts floated through the far wall and vanished.
Professor McGonagall reentered the chamber moments later, as though she'd waited for the ghostly spectacle to conclude.
She surveyed the shaken crowd with a slightly raised brow and then clapped her hands. "Now, form a line," she said briskly. "Follow me."
The Sorting Ceremony was about to begin.