"Thank you, Wade. That was an excellent spell idea."
At the staff table, a gleam of delight sparkled in Dumbledore's eyes. "20 points to Ravenclaw."
As soon as he finished speaking, a pleasant chime rang out from the giant hourglasses. A stream of blue sapphires fell into Ravenclaw's, instantly raising it just a bit higher than the other three houses.
"Yeah!" Professor Flitwick pumped his fist. Then, he looked around and gave a little cough to compose himself, but even as he lowered his hand, he couldn't help but shuffle slightly in excitement and gave Wade an approving glance.
Beside him, Dumbledore flicked his wand, and the thunderstorm above the enchanted ceiling cleared into a starry night sky, with soft auroras rippling across it like silk.
No one knew who started it, but a moment later, the Great Hall erupted into applause—first sporadic, and then grew stronger and more enthusiastic. Someone even began tapping a fork against their goblet with a cheerful ding-ding-ding.
"Nicely done, Wade!" Fred called out loudly.
"Absolutely!" George chimed in. "Totally worth it—even if our hair looks like it got hit by a Blast-Ended Skrewt!"
That made quite a few people burst out laughing.
Professor Dumbledore waited patiently for a moment, then clapped his hands, and the laughter and applause quickly died down.
"A delightful interlude," he said, smiling. "I'm glad our evening will now be dry and comfortable. But for now, let's continue with the most important ceremony of the night."
The first-years, who had just been laughing and clapping along, immediately tensed up and their expressions turned anxious.
On the high stool, the Sorting Hat split open at the brim, gave a couple of coughs, and began to sing in a deep, ringing voice:
"Over a thousand years ago, I was freshly stitched and sewn,
Four famous witches and wizards—whose names are still well known…"
Michael nudged Wade with his elbow and whispered, "What's going on? You've never been this showy before."
Wade paused for a moment, then asked in return, "Don't you want to join the Inter-School Magic Tournament?"
"Of course I do," Michael replied without hesitation, then quickly added, "But I'm realistic. With my skill level, I'd just be along for the ride. But you—oh no, you're not trying to scare off the competition already, are you?"
"No such luck," Wade said. "I just want to make sure that if I become the Hogwarts Champion, no one will question whether I deserved it."
"Who'd be dumb enough to think that?"
Michael thought for a moment, then added, "The rules should be different this time. If there's a team competition, don't feel obligated to drag along anyone who might hold you back. Older students are usually more dependable…"
His gaze swept across the long tables as he evaluated thoughtfully. "Cedric, the Weasley twins, and that Slytherin guy—Miles Bletchley—are all pretty skilled. For our house, there's Roger Davies."
"It's too early to be thinking about all that," Wade said.
"And if it really is a team event, spell skill isn't the only thing that matters. What's more important is whether the team has complementary abilities and mutual trust. I'm not putting my back in the hands of someone I can't rely on."
Michael hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah… you're right."
Applause rose again in the Great Hall — the Sorting Hat had finished its song, and Professor McGonagall stepped forward to begin the Sorting. All eyes turned toward the nervous new first-years.
"Oh my," Wade heard a girl beside him murmur under her breath, "They're so little!"
Wade found himself nodding in agreement without even realizing it.
When he went through the Sorting himself, he hadn't felt particularly short, but sitting here now, Wade realized just how tiny the first-years looked—like a bunch of little radishes, with varying degrees of nervousness and fear on their faces.
"Stewart Ackerley!"
A boy trembling from head to toe walked over to the stool and sat down, placing the grimy Sorting Hat on his head.
"Ravenclaw!"
Applause rang out from the Ravenclaw table. Wade clapped along, and when the boy looked over at him excitedly, Wade gave him a warm smile and a small nod.
"I'd bet anything," Michael muttered, "every single one of these first-years is probably your fan."
"As long as they don't chase me around with cameras," Wade murmured with a smile, "I don't have Harry's patience."
The two of them stopped whispering as the Sorting continued. At long last, the ceremony ended, and the welcome feast began.
After everyone had eaten their fill, Dumbledore stood up to make announcements—usual things like the list of forbidden items and the reminder that the Forbidden Forest was, as always, off-limits.
There were also new rules this year: no Engorgement Charms on insects or magical dolls outside the maze area; no gambling using magical dolls; no using communication beans or the book of friends during class, and so on.
From the staff table, multiple pairs of eyes kept sweeping over Wade, but he pretended not to notice and just kept looking at the headmaster, as if Dumbledore's every word was sacred law.
Dumbledore then introduced the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher—Mad-Eye Moody. The students were so stunned by his bizarre appearance that they forgot to applaud.
Next, Dumbledore announced the magical schools' inter-school magic tournament, which—unsurprisingly—set the entire hall ablaze with excitement.
"Any student may apply," Dumbledore said, "but that does not mean you may recklessly throw yourselves into danger. The challenges remain extremely difficult, and to ensure no one dies tragically—"
His eyes swept over the sea of eager, expectant faces. Some students instinctively showed fear, while others remained unreadable.
Dumbledore's gaze met Wade's for a brief moment, and Wade clenched his fists subtly.
Dumbledore continued, "—a completely impartial judge will be responsible for selecting participants from among the applicants, based on their magical ability."
"The delegations from the other magical schools will arrive in October and will spend most of the academic year with us…"
"Did you notice?" Michael leaned toward Wade and said meaningfully, "Dumbledore didn't say how many champions each school would choose."
"Wizards generally have little experience with team-based tasks—aside from Quidditch," Wade said matter-of-factly.
"But we do," Michael replied. "In the maze games, we've gotten used to working with all kinds of teammates."
"Exactly." Wade looked at him and said, "Which is why, if other schools find that out, they'll be even more opposed to having team events."
"So then, just one champion per school?" Michael frowned. "That gives the older students a bigger advantage—at least their magical power is stronger…"
At that moment, Dumbledore declared the feast over, and students began pushing back their chairs and heading toward the doors.
"Wade!"
A hand reached through the crowd and tapped Wade on the shoulder.
Anthony Goldstein smiled and said, "When we get back, could you stay behind in the common room for a bit? I want to talk to you."
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