The moment the three of them stepped into the Great Hall, the fragrance of food wafted over them.
The tables of all four Houses were laden with dishes, but among the spread of traditional English dinners, it was the steaming bowls of noodles—colorful and aromatic—that drew the most attention.
A quick glance told Loren there were four kinds: Oil-Splashed Noodles, Knife-Cut Noodles, Zhajiang Noodles, and Hot Dry Noodles.
Each kind suited a different palate perfectly. The English dinners sat largely untouched, while every bowl of noodles that appeared vanished almost immediately into eager hands.
Watching the students clumsily tackle noodles with forks and knives made Loren want to laugh. The house-elves had even provided chopsticks, but to the young wizards, the stick-like utensils looked too much like wands to be taken seriously. Only at the Ravenclaw table was a young witch patiently teaching others how to use them.
From memory, Loren knew her name—Cho Chang, a Chinese-British witch.
Hermione noticed Loren staring at her. A twinge of jealousy colored her face, and she quickly grabbed his hand, dragging him toward Gryffindor's table.
The tug snapped Loren back to himself. He hurried to catch up, offering quick explanations, while Neville, wisely for once, chose not to ask why Hermione was upset and simply trailed after them.
By the time they reached the table, Loren had smoothed things over, and he and Hermione were back to their affectionate selves. Neville sat beside them, baffled, though his full stomach kept him from caring too much.
Their ease with chopsticks soon caught the attention of their peers, many of whom were locked in a losing battle with forks and noodles. Students tried to mimic them, but quickly realized chopsticks were even harder to handle than forks. Watching Loren and Hermione deftly eat, they finally turned to the pair for help.
Neither refused. They taught patiently, earning admiration all around.
Hermione, in particular, gained much from the evening—winning the goodwill of many Gryffindors.
After dinner, Loren and Hermione accompanied Neville back to the common room to fetch his History of Magic textbook. Their next class was scheduled that evening.
Other first-years also hurried back to grab their books. Walking together offered safety in numbers, sparing them from getting lost.
Under Loren's lead, they all arrived at the classroom smoothly.
Inside, the young wizards chatted in excitement, curious to see how the Hogwarts professor would make magical history sound fascinating. For many, *A History of Magic* had read like bedtime stories, its accounts enchanting in their own way.
Seeing Hermione and Neville discussing the professor across him, Loren chuckled quietly. He didn't interrupt. After all, sooner or later, Hogwarts would teach them harsh lessons: the magical world was no fairy tale.
When the hour came, Professor Binns drifted through the blackboard, startling the students yet again. Ghosts had already frightened them throughout the castle today, but discovering their History professor was one too was another surprise altogether.
Binns never called roll. He opened his book and began to drone on, his monotone voice quickly drowning the room. Students scribbled names and dates without care, accuracy forgotten.
Hermione was visibly disappointed, though she forced herself to listen. Surely, she thought, a ghost-professor at Hogwarts must know secrets not written in books—perhaps he'd let one slip by accident.
Neville was more straightforward. His eyes drooped, torn between sleep and fear of being caught dozing by a teacher.
Loren, meanwhile, slipped his hand into Hermione's enchanted bag and pulled out a library book she had borrowed, handing it to her.
At her puzzled look, he leaned close and whispered:
"Binns never minds what students do—he just reads. Exams are a joke. Honestly, I think Dumbledore only keeps him on because ghosts don't need food or pay. It saves money."
Hermione nearly burst out laughing, but took the hint, opening her book instead. She'd already finished *A History of Magic* before term even started.
Around them, most first-years were like Neville—half asleep. Soon Neville himself succumbed completely.
Loren thought of reviewing spells in his mind, but another idea stole over him:
"In my last life, I studied for over ten years, but never once dared to actually sleep in class. At best, I dozed. Well… why not fix that regret now?"
And so he did.
Before the astonished eyes of his classmates, Loren pulled a full set of bedding from his robe: pillow, blanket, even a velvet canopy identical to his dorm curtains, held up by a Floating Charm.
He wasn't rude enough to lie flat. Instead, he set the pillow on his desk, rested his head on it, draped the blanket over himself, and drifted off.
Hermione, long accustomed to his antics, barely reacted. But the rest of the class forgot all about Binns, their eyes glued to Loren.
Neville, jolted awake by the commotion, found himself being stared at. Instinctively turning to Loren for help, he froze in disbelief at the sight of his friend's elaborate sleeping setup. He remained twisted in his seat like a wooden statue, staring.
Loren slept peacefully until class ended, waking only when Binns floated away. With no droning voice to lull him, he perked up at once and briskly packed away his bedding.
Only then did he notice the strange looks aimed his way. To him, it was the usual mix of horror and admiration that "model students" held toward rebels. He ignored it, shook Neville awake, and tugged Hermione along toward Gryffindor Tower.
By the time they left, the other first-years were scrambling. None dared risk getting lost alone in the castle, not with Filch prowling. They hurried after Loren, their unofficial guide.
Once back in the common room, they scattered to retell his feat.
Older students dismissed it at first. Falling asleep in Binns's class was nothing new—they themselves often played wizard chess through it.
But when the younger ones described how Loren had unpacked an entire bed from his robe, their tune changed. Even the Weasley twins looked impressed, deciding they'd try the stunt next class.
Loren, uninterested in the chatter, returned to the dorm. From under his bed, he pulled out a chest he had expanded with the Undetectable Extension Charm—a miniature alchemy workshop.
From it he retrieved a pillow, one of his latest inventions.
The pillow had two functions: first, to regulate sleep—guiding the user into deep rest, healing the body, and waking them on time. Second, in pillow fights, it worked as a "physical Stupefy," knocking opponents out cold. Invaluable for making friends.
But there was a drawback: no more sleeping in. He had enchanted it to always wake its owner at five in the morning.
He gave one to Hermione, then sought out the Weasley twins to negotiate for a Hogwarts map. He planned to copy it and distribute to first-years, so they wouldn't trail him everywhere.
The twins, with their Marauder's Map, knew the castle intimately. They promised to provide it by morning. Satisfied, Loren bid them goodnight, greeted Hermione, and pulled Neville along to wash up.
Neville, confused but compliant, opened his enchanted notebook once Loren pointed at it. The latest entry read: "Train with Loren every morning."
He remembered their agreement, hurried through his washing, and returned to the dorm.
There, he found a new pillow on his bed. Recognizing it as the same kind Loren had given Hermione, he swapped it for his old one. The moment his head touched it, sleep claimed him instantly.
Loren watched him drift off, sighed to himself—"What a long day"—and soon followed.
//Check out my Patreon for 20 extra chapters on all my fanfics //[[email protected]/Razeil0810](http://[email protected]/Razeil0810)