"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said crisply.
"The Welcoming Feast is about to begin, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you must first be sorted into your Houses.
The Sorting is a very important ceremony, because while you are here, your House will be like your family at Hogwarts…"
She went on to explain the four Houses and the competition for the House Cup. When she finished, her expression softened slightly.
"In a few minutes, the Sorting Ceremony will take place in front of the entire school. I suggest you tidy yourselves up and look presentable while you wait."
Her gaze lingered on Sean for a moment. For an instant, the sternness in her eyes eased.
It suits him quite well…
"The Sorting Ceremony oh, Merlin, I heard we have to fight a dragon!"
A nervous, black-haired boy whispered this to his companion, his voice trembling.
"What? A dragon?!"
The blonde girl beside him looked ready to burst into tears.
"No! I only know Lumos!"
That one remark was enough to throw the group into chaos.
"A dragon?! Adult or juvenile?!"
"Anthony, how can you be precise at a time like this! Even a baby dragon could roast us in one breath!"
"We're doomed!"
The rumours spread like wildfire, and the first-years clung to them readily, as though their families had planted the seeds long before.
Amid the chorus of worried voices, Sean quietly opened Magical Theory.
It was the only book he had brought with him.
Though magic defied logic, ignoring rules like the conservation of matter, it had existed for centuries. Even if every wizard had been ignorant, surely they must have discovered patterns by now.
Of all the books that had cost him his precious two Galleons, Magical Theory was the one that left the deepest impression.
Every branch of magic Charms, Transfiguration, Potions found some explanation within its pages. Sean suspected it might be the most underrated book on the entire first-year reading list.
This was already his third read-through, and each time new insights emerged.
*Magic is inherent to the wizard themselves.
The strength of magic depends on a wizard's emotions or mental power, but most cannot control it unaided. Thus, they require the guidance of spells and a wand, allowing magic to be consciously directed toward its purpose.*
Sean nodded slightly as he traced the words with his eyes.
This, he could understand.
Harry was the perfect example.
Before Hogwarts, he had moved himself onto a roof when frightened and made glass vanish from a zoo enclosure. But those things only happened when he was emotionally overwhelmed, and he had no way of controlling it.
With a wand and the discipline of spellwork, however, wizards could truly learn to master their magic.
After two months of observation, Sean found himself leaning toward a theory from his previous life: wizards in the Harry Potter world were essentially bloodline magicians, their power flowing from inherited magical lineage.
He turned another page of Magical Theory.
One fact about learning magic is to master as many spells as possible, including ancient spells. The more spells you know, the more you can achieve. Another fact is that once you have learned a spell, you must practise it constantly to gain true proficiency. The difference between clumsy casting and skilled casting is vast. Yet even once you have mastered a spell, to unleash its full power requires sufficient mental strength.
What a concise summary!
No wonder Adalbert Waffling had the confidence to title his work Magical Theory. By its very name, it carried the same weight as Theoretical Mathematics or Fundamentals of Physics from Sean's previous world.
Books like those had often drained him of joy, like the Dementors of academia. Read them once, and joy vanished.
"I'm starting to believe you," Hermione murmured. Her face was pale. The other first-years' fearful chatter had taken hold of her imagination, and their echoes made the rumours sound more real than ever. For a girl so new to the magical world, it was unsettling.
But beside her, Sean remained calm, still absorbed in his book.
"Shouldn't we ask Sean?" Justin whispered, teeth chattering. "He doesn't seem scared at all."
He thought back to the equestrian trials at Eton. Could it be that wizards had to face dragons as their own rite of passage? Was that a glorious tradition? Wizards… terrifying indeed.
"Sean, sorry to interrupt, but "
Whatever Justin had meant to ask was drowned out as the great doors of the Hall swung open.
The Sorting Ceremony had begun.
Sean closed Magical Theory at last and raised his head.
As the Sorting Hat was carried forward and set upon its stool, Sean's thoughts had already turned toward his target House.
After all, the Hat was known to listen to a student's wishes.
Gryffindor?
No, that wouldn't do.
His foremost task was to secure a scholarship.
If Sean excelled in every subject, the closest comparisons would be Hermione Granger and Percy Weasley.
And both, in their own way, had met resistance inside Gryffindor.
Hermione, in her first year, had been driven to tears in the girls' bathroom simply for performing well in lessons and pointing out mistakes.
Many Gryffindors seemed to live by the creed: "No matter my level, I cannot stay subordinate for long."
They were brave adventurers, but bravery often came with recklessness. In the end, it was others who paid the price.
Sean thought of the Chamber of Secrets: rumours running wild, classmates isolating and even ostracising Harry. That was Gryffindor's flaw.
As for Slytherin, Sean had no interest in scheming. Why waste time plotting, when those hours could be spent turning his Levitation Charm into a silent spell?
That left Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Both sounded reasonable.
But his heart leaned toward Hufflepuff.
The dormitory sat just steps from the kitchens free food within reach.
Superb.
Hufflepuff was harmonious. No petty infighting, only unity in the face of outside threats. Even J.K. Rowling herself had once said she hoped all children would be Hufflepuffs.
Sean pictured it vividly: a warm fireplace, the kitchens right at the door, and a Head of House who might scold you for mistakes or fights but then quietly slip you a box of coconut ice cream afterwards.
He wanted to shout aloud:
We come from the forest, we are full of love, loyal to nature, upright and steadfast, resilient and honest, fearless in the face of difficulty
We are Hufflepuff!
"Harry Potter!"
Professor McGonagall's call rang out, cutting through the noise of the Hall.
Instantly, the buzz of voices turned into sharp whispers: "It's him," "It really is him," "Harry Potter…"
Harry stumbled forward, placed the patched Sorting Hat on his head, and silence descended.
Four long minutes passed. Five. Long enough for Sean to hear the Sorting Hat's song in his head for the second time.
"Gryffindor!"
The Hall erupted.
"Potter!"
"We've got Potter!"
The Gryffindor table shook with applause and cheers.
Then
"Sean Green!"