The gentle rattle of the Hogwarts Express became the backdrop for an easy-flowing conversation between Virtus and Cedric. Lux, the orange kitten, played with the cord of Virtus's robe on his lap, chasing the tassels with his little paws. As the countryside landscape flew past the window, Cedric spoke passionately.
"—My father says flying is the closest thing to absolute freedom!" he exclaimed, his eyes shining with contagious enthusiasm. "Can you imagine soaring through the skies? And Charms must be fascinating too. To be able to repair or create anything with a word..."
Virtus stroked Lux's head, feeling the animal's purr vibrate in his fingers. A genuine interest lit up his gaze.
"—I'm more drawn to the History of Magic,"he confessed. "Understanding the foundations, the mistakes and triumphs of those who came before us. That gives a different kind of power. But Charms... yes, they are the basis of everything. The most versatile tool."
The journey passed with Cedric's anecdotes about flying a broom around his house and Virtus's more serene, thoughtful questions. The peace of the compartment was interrupted by the screech of the door sliding open. An elderly woman with a kind smile was pushing a cart loaded with sweets of impossible colors: Pumpkin Pasties that steamed slightly, Every-Flavour Beans, Chocolate Frogs that jumped in their boxes.
"—Anything from the trolley, dears?" she asked in a sing-song voice.
As they selected some pasties and a couple of Chocolate Frogs, a crash followed by a surprised shout, hurried laughter, and running footsteps echoed in the corridor. A shrill, exasperated voice shouted in the distance: "—It was those red-headed brats, I know it!"
Cedric and Virtus looked at each other. Cedric couldn't help a complicit and somewhat admiring smile.
"—The Weasley twins,"he whispered, as if revealing a state secret. "They live near us. My dad and theirs are friends. They say they're a walking disaster, but they're quite funny."
The afternoon gave way to evening. The sun set, staining the sky with deep oranges and purples, when the conductor's voice announced over the loudspeakers that they should change into their uniforms and leave their luggage on the train, as they would arrive in Hogsmeade in ten minutes. A nervous excitement took hold of the compartment as they put away their things and dressed in the black school robes. Lux watched curiously from a corner of the seat.
"—Did your parents give you any hints about the selection process?" asked Virtus to continue the conversation, while adjusting his slightly loose robe.
Cedric shook his head, but a nervous smile appeared on his face.
"—No,but every time they mentioned it, they had a Cheshire cat grin. I know they expect me to be in Hufflepuff, like them. But they told me I could 'ask for it' if necessary."
As they got off the train, the small Hogsmeade station was a bustle of students shouting names and playing with each other. But a sudden silence fell over the first-years at the sight that awaited them. A gigantic man, a mountain of a man at least ten feet tall and broad enough to block the view, was holding a giant lantern. His black mane and thick beard framed a kind face, though with an air of robust clumsiness. It was Rubeus Hagrid, just as the books described him, but seeing him in person, with his moleskin coat and warm gaze, was a breathtaking experience.
"—Firs' years!" he boomed in a voice that sounded like rolling rocks. "Over here, follow me! C'mon, firs' years!"
The path to the boats was stony, dark, and slippery with evening dew. On a misstep, Cedric stumbled forward, but Virtus's hand gripped his arm with surprising firmness.
"—We'd better hold hands,"suggested Virtus calmly, his voice serene in the gloom. "We don't want our future flying champion to fall before he's even sorted."
Cedric blushed slightly in the faint moonlight, but nodded, feeling a wave of gratitude and warmth for his new friend's concern. Virtus's hand was surprisingly steady.
"—Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec!" announced Hagrid, his voice full of pride.
And then, there it was. The castle stood majestically on the cliff, its countless turrets and towers piercing the starry sky. The windows shone with the light of torches and fires, like a hundred friendly eyes watching them, projecting long golden reflections on the ink-black waters of the lake. Virtus held his breath. For a moment, all his caution, his knowledge of the future, and his plans faded away. The majesty of the place was overwhelming. It was real. Everything was incredibly, wonderfully real.
Following Hagrid's instructions of "no more'n four to a boat!", Virtus and Cedric climbed into one of the small vessels that seemed to sail by themselves. Just before it set off, two red-headed figures with contagious laughter jumped in, occupying the two remaining seats and making the boat rock.
"—Hello, Cedric!" said one of them, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "And who are you?" asked the other, looking at Virtus with open curiosity.
"—Virtus King," he introduced himself, finding the situation quite amusing.
"—Fred and George Weasley," they said in unison, though it was impossible to tell who was who. "It's brilliant to be away from Mum at last," one confessed in a dramatic whisper, though his smile was broad. "The castle is full of... unexplored possibilities!"
As they crossed the lake, the conversation flowed between the breathtaking beauty of the castle and the twins' enthusiastic plans to "investigate" every corner. Soon, the boats gently touched the opposite shore. They climbed a path of wet pebbles until they reached huge, solid oak doors. Hagrid raised a fist the size of a ham and knocked three times. The sound, deep and resonant, thundered like a clap against the wood.
The door opened without a sound, revealing a tall woman with an upright posture and a severe appearance. She wore square spectacles that glittered in the torchlight, robes of a dark wine-green, and her grey hair was pulled back into a bun so impeccable it seemed sculpted. An expression of rigor and authority inhabited her face.
"—Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here," she said in a clear, precise voice that brooked no argument. Then, she addressed the new students, her gaze scrutinizing each one. "Welcome to Hogwarts. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and your Transfiguration teacher. Follow me."
She led them through dazzling corridors. Armor that whispered greetings amidst clinking, paintings that followed them with their eyes and whispered from their frames, and floors of polished marble that reflected the flickering flames. Finally, they stopped before two towering wooden doors from which emanated a growing murmur of hundreds of voices.
"—The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin," announced McGonagall, her voice cutting the air with precision. "You will be sorted into one of the four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin. While you are at Hogwarts, I expect you all to understand that for the next 7 years, your house will be your family; your achievements and your misdeeds will reflect upon it as a whole. Now, wait here in an orderly and silent manner. I will shortly give you the signal to enter."
When the professor entered the Great Hall, the tension among the children was palpable, a nervousness you could almost taste in the air. Suddenly, several ethereal, silvery ghosts emerged from the walls, sliding through the stone, causing gasps and muffled screams among the new students. Virtus recognized them instantly, wondering mentally if this was some kind of tradition for them, as he remembered they had done exactly the same in Harry's first year. One of them, a pale ghost in a Tudor doublet and a lamentably decapitated appearance (though his head still hung by a thread of skin), floated towards the group.
"—Welcome, new friends!" he said in a hollow, melodious voice. "I hope some of you will go to Gryffindor, my old house! We need new blood! I am Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, but you may call me Nearly Headless Nick." He made an exaggerated bow that almost ended in disaster for his head.
Before the fright and surprise could turn into panic, Professor McGonagall returned and, with a gesture, ushered them into the Great Hall.
The spectacle that opened before them was breathtaking. Thousands of candles floated in the air above four long tables, packed with students whose faces turned to look at them with curiosity. But what truly stole their breath was the ceiling, or the lack thereof: a magical enchantment showed the starry night sky, veiled by faint clouds. At the far end, a raised table housed the staff.
Virtus, holding his breath, scanned the staff table. He recognized the kindly Professor Sprout, who smiled warmly at him; the tiny Professor Flitwick, sitting on what seemed a pile of cushions to be level with his colleagues; and a man with greasy hair and a pale, severe face who must be Severus Snape, his cold, analytical gaze sweeping the room like a hawk's. Next to him, a young man with short brown hair—not bald nor wearing a ridiculous turban—showed a kind smile as he greeted the new students: Quirinus Quirrell, the Muggle Studies professor. And in the center, with a long silver beard that reached his waist and robes of a starry blue, was Albus Dumbledore. His gaze, behind his half-moon spectacles, seemed like Gandalf's but with an infinite curiosity and a spark of amusement more youthful than he appeared. Only one teacher, an old woman so fragile and wrinkled she seemed about to disintegrate in the softest breeze, was a complete unknown to Virtus: the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.
Cedric, feeling the overwhelming weight of hundreds of curious eyes, instinctively sought Virtus's hand and squeezed it tightly. They stopped in a line facing a solitary stool upon which rested an old, patched, and extremely dirty hat.
Suddenly, a rip near the hat's brim opened like a mouth and began to sing in a rather hoarse and off-key voice.
"Oh, I'm the Sorting Hat, you see,
Full of magic and history.
Four houses there are in this hall,
Into one of them you'll have your call.
Is courage and bravery your trait?
To Gryffindor go,don't hesitate!
If you're loyal and just,true of heart,
Hufflepuff will be your rightful part.
Does cunning and ambition guide your soul?
Slytherin will achieve your goal!
And if wisdom is what you truly crave,
In Ravenclaw,your mind you'll save.
So put me on! Don't be afraid,
And discover where your home is made!"
Professor McGonagall unrolled a long parchment.
"—When I call your name,you will come forward, sit on the stool, and put on the hat to be sorted," she announced.
One by one, the students were called in alphabetical order. Virtus's heart beat strongly against his chest when he heard: "—Diggory, Cedric!"
Cedric let go of his hand, his eyes full of excited nervousness. Virtus whispered in his ear: "—Good luck! Here we go!"
The hat had barely touched Cedric's head when its mouth-rip opened wide and shouted for the whole hall to hear: "—HUFFLEPUFF!"
The yellow and black table erupted in applause and cheers.Virtus smiled, feeling genuine relief. Soon, his turn came.
"—King, Virtus!"
He walked towards the stool under Cedric's expectant gaze, who gave him a small encouraging nod, and Professor Sprout's curiosity. The hat, which smelled of dust and centuries past, covered his eyes, plunging him into a velvety darkness.
«Mmm… interesting, a small, astute voice resonated only in his head. Very interesting. Great intelligence, yes. An ambition… not for power, but to survive, to protect… but what?… you could do great things in Slytherin. Or in Ravenclaw, with all that knowledge you crave. But… what's this? Constant, silent work. A fierce loyalty, not to an abstract cause, but to the people you love. A deeply rooted sense of justice, but a practical one. Yes, yes… much to think about… but I think your place is where patience and loyalty are virtues. Better be… HUFFLEPUFF!»
The hat's final shout echoed through the hall. Virtus made his way to the Hufflepuff table, where Cedric immediately made space for him beside him, with an ear-to-ear smile that lit up his face.
"—I knew it!"whispered Cedric, giving him a pat on the back.
Shortly after, the Weasley twins, the last to be sorted, were sent consecutively to Gryffindor amidst laughter, ovations, and a few sighs of relief from a couple of older red-headed students at the Lions' table. Once Professor McGonagall had taken the Sorting Hat away, Headmaster Dumbledore rose. An expectant silence filled the hall.
"—Welcome!" he said in a calm voice that, nonetheless, reached every corner effortlessly. "I won't keep you with the ramblings of an old man, let the feast begin!"
With a clap from the Headmaster, the main tables were filled with a dazzling amount of food and drink. Roast turkeys, mountains of mash, trays of vegetables, and soups of all colors (food much more varied and delicious than many stories say, thought Virtus). The dinner proceeded in a feast of flavors and animated conversation. Everything happened in a swift, magical whirlwind: the disappearance of the main courses and the equally miraculous appearance of desserts, Dumbledore's announcements about the absolute prohibition of the Forbidden Forest and the introduction of the elderly Defence Against the Dark Arts professor (whose predecessor, according to Dumbledore with a theatrical sigh, "had decided to take a long... and unfortunately enforced... vacation in Azkaban"), and the final path to the Hufflepuff common room, hidden behind a stack of barrels near the kitchens, after solving a specific rhythm that had to be tapped on one of them.
Professor Sprout gave them a warm welcome, explaining the basic rules of coexistence and encouraging them to "work hard and support each other like a good family," and guided them to their dormitories. To their mutual and silent joy, Virtus and Cedric would share a cozy room with two four-poster beds of dark yellow and bedside tables.
Once changed into their pajamas and after wishing each other a good night, a bit weary from the novelty and long day, Virtus lay down in bed next to the already sleeping Lux, who had been brought from the train by a house-elf. The room was silent, broken only by the distant crackle of the fire in the common room and by Cedric's breathing, which soon became slow and deep, a sign that he had succumbed to the day's exhaustion. In the darkness, illuminated only by the faint light of the full moon coming through the circular window, Virtus looked at the stone ceiling. The excitement, wonder, and anxiety of the day mixed inside him like a complex potion.
Suddenly, without any warning, a semi-transparent, rectangular window of an ethereal blue materialized floating right before his eyes, as if painted on the air. The letters, pure white and sharp, read:
[NARRATIVE IMPACT SYSTEM ACTIVE]
[IMMINENT DISTRIBUTION]
[OBJECT: 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone']
[LOCATION: All linked magical bookstores]
[TIME REMAINING: 7... 6... 5...]
Virtus's heart stopped in his chest. The seed of chaos, which he himself had planted, was about to germinate in the magical world.