The Hogwarts Express thundered northward, carrying Sagar and hundreds of other young witches and wizards through the rolling green countryside. The atmosphere inside the train was a bubbling cauldron of excitement and nerves. Sagar watched it all from his compartment, quietly absorbing every detail: the shifting alliances, the whispered rumors, the way magic seemed to crackle in the air.
He was visited by curious students—some drawn by the exotic Jadhav name, others by the quiet confidence he exuded. Sagar answered their questions with a sly smile and a few well-chosen words, never revealing too much, always leaving a hint of mystery. He watched as Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger passed by, their conversation a mix of awe and uncertainty. Draco Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, cast a calculating glance in Sagar's direction, already sizing up the competition.
As the train slowed and the castle loomed in the distance, Sagar felt the familiar thrill of entering a new world. Lanterns flickered along the platform at Hogsmeade Station, and the first-years were shepherded into boats by Hagrid, the friendly half-giant whose presence radiated warmth and reassurance. Sagar found himself sharing a boat with a nervous Muggle-born girl and a boy who couldn't stop talking about Quidditch. He listened, smiled, and let the magic of the moment wash over him.
The boats glided across the black lake, and as the castle's towers rose above them, Sagar felt a rare sense of awe. Hogwarts was more than a school—it was a living legend, a place where the past and future of magic collided.
Inside the castle, the first-years were led through winding corridors and up a grand staircase to the Great Hall. The ceiling shimmered with floating candles and a sky full of stars. Four long tables stretched the length of the hall, each filled with students in black robes, their faces alight with curiosity and anticipation.
Professor McGonagall, stern but fair, explained the Sorting Ceremony. Sagar listened, his mind already racing through possibilities. He knew the Houses—Gryffindor for the brave, Ravenclaw for the wise, Hufflepuff for the loyal, and Slytherin for the cunning. Each had its merits, but Sagar wondered where the Hat would place someone like him—a soul shaped by centuries, driven by curiosity, and never content to follow anyone's rules.
When his name was called—"Jadhav, Sagar!"—the Great Hall fell silent. Sagar walked calmly to the stool, feeling hundreds of eyes upon him. He sat, and Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head.
For a moment, there was nothing but darkness and the faint scent of old velvet. Then a voice, ancient and amused, echoed in his mind.
"Well, well, well… what have we here? You're no ordinary first-year, are you? I see centuries of memories, layers of secrets, and a mind that refuses to be tamed. You're clever enough for Ravenclaw, bold enough for Gryffindor, and your loyalty… well, that's reserved for those who truly earn it. But Slytherin… oh, you would shake Slytherin to its core."
Sagar smiled inwardly. "I want a challenge," he thought. "Put me where the game is most interesting."
The Hat chuckled. "Oh, you'll find plenty of that in Slytherin. But beware—some games play for keeps."
Aloud, the Hat shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"
A ripple of surprise and excitement swept through the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy looked both pleased and wary. The older students exchanged glances, already sensing that this new arrival would be no ordinary snake in their den.
Sagar removed the Hat, bowed to the staff table, and strode to his new House. He was greeted with polite applause and a few whispered questions. As he sat down, he caught the eye of Professor Snape, who studied him with a mixture of suspicion and intrigue.
The rest of the Sorting passed in a blur. Harry Potter went to Gryffindor, as did Ron and Hermione. The feast began, and Sagar sampled dishes from every corner of Britain, savoring the taste of tradition and the promise of adventure.
That night, as he lay in the cool darkness of the Slytherin dormitory, Sagar smiled to himself. The Hat had been right—this would be a challenge. And Sagar had never been one to shy from a challenge.
The game at Hogwarts had begun.