Classmates…
No way.
Could that be right?
Hermione stiffly shook Clark's hand, needing quite a while to digest this shocking fact.
Clark, on the other hand, took it in stride.
It was Harry who pushed up his glasses and said enviously, "If only I were as tall as you, Clark."
Years of poor nutrition had left him small and skinny. Standing next to Clark, he looked just like a little chick.
"That's easy. Drink more milk, eat more meat, do some proper work, go to bed early…" Clark generously shared his tips for getting taller, holding nothing back.
In the end, he scratched his eyebrow a little awkwardly. "That is how it is, but before my magic talent awakened, I was about the same height as Ron."
Magic.
Hermione locked onto the key word at once, her spirits lifting. "Have you tried casting any spells yet? I have tried a few of the simplest charms, but unfortunately they all failed. As for the textbooks, I have already read through them once and memorized part of the content. What about you? And Clark, were you really not using magic just now? That feeling of being seen through was not my imagination. Or do you have some kind of special talent that ordinary people would find hard to understand?"
She rattled on like a machine gun, leaving Clark and the others no chance to cut in.
As the conversation was about to die awkwardly, Clark blinked and suddenly came out with something completely unrelated. "Did you know owls eat hamsters too?"
Harry: "..."
Hermione: "..."
Ron: "..."
Clark spread his hands with a regretful look. "I mean, if you have two pet hamsters, do not ever let your owl roam free. Wire cages are no match for an owl's talons."
It sounded like a rather sad story.
But what did that have to do with magic?
Hermione frowned slightly, about to speak.
Ron beat her to it, nodding in deep agreement. "You are absolutely right. My rat never dares show itself in front of my brother's owl."
Harry followed up. "Clark, what is your owl's name? What kind is it?"
"Bruce. He is a horned owl," Clark said with a smile. "The dog we used to have at home was also called Bruce."
"My owl is called Hedwig. Maybe the two of them will become friends one day." Harry smiled as well.
"They definitely will," Clark replied, raising his eyebrows at Harry.
A second later, Hermione slapped the table hard. "This is not the time to be talking about hamsters and rats and owls."
She quickly realized she had lost her composure and blushed. "Sorry, I got a bit carried away."
She shifted the topic. "We will soon be part of Hogwarts. Shouldn't we be talking about beautiful, fascinating, advanced magic instead?"
"What is there to say about magic? I think rats make a great topic," Ron muttered under his breath.
Hermione pretended not to hear and looked at Clark expectantly. "Back to what we were saying, Clark, do you have some kind of special magical talent?"
"Something like that." Clark did not deliberately hide anything, but he remembered Professor Dumbledore's reminder and chose to keep some things to himself. He said lightly, "I am just strong, sharp-eyed, sharp-eared, and I never forget what I see. Nothing remarkable."
"Strong."
"Sharp-eyed and sharp-eared."
"Never forget what you see."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione all cried out at once.
Now it was Clark's turn to be curious. "What is wrong? You are not like that?"
The three of them fell silent.
After over ten seconds, Hermione took a small notebook from her pocket and handed it to Clark with a complicated expression. "I do not believe anyone can really have a perfect memory. Even for a wizard, that sounds a bit too much. Look at the third page once, then recite it to me."
Clark took the notebook, opened it to the third page, and gave it a quick once-over. That was enough.
He flipped it face-down onto the table and began to recite casually. "Flowleaf must be picked under a full moon in order not to damage its medicinal properties, and the specific procedure is…"
There were over a hundred words on that page.
Clark finished repeating them word for word in no time.
When he fell silent, the compartment did too.
Hermione, Ron, and Harry all looked utterly dumbfounded.
Look closely enough, and there was envy, jealousy, frustration, and admiration deep in their eyes.
Clark was baffled as well. He tilted his head. "Why are you looking at me like that? I am a wizard. Being able to do this is normal, is it not?"
You are a wizard.
So are we.
Why can we not do it?
Ron stuck his thumb up. "Clark, when you said you had a perfect memory, I thought you were making it up. I did not expect… Forget it. You are amazing."
Harry also gave him a thumbs-up. "You are amazing."
Hermione seemed to have taken a heavy blow. She murmured, "I have to… I have to work even harder…"
When they got off the train, the biting cold wind made Ron and Harry hunch their shoulders instinctively.
They glanced sideways and saw Clark looking perfectly fine, hands in his pockets, curiously taking in his surroundings.
"Clark, are you not cold?" Harry did up the clasp on his robes and grumbled. "I am freezing."
"It is all right," Clark replied offhandedly.
Just then, a deep, booming shout came from the front of the line. "Gather round, over here."
Clark looked ahead and saw a bearded giant of a man, lantern held high and swinging. "Over here, first years, all first years this way."
With most of the students staring at him, the giant raised his voice. "I am Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. I am here to fetch you first years. Anyone still on the train? Oi, I will only ask one more time. Are there any first years still on the train? No? Good. Follow me. And watch your step, the ground is a bit slippery."
Hagrid seemed to be in a good mood.
His gaze swept over the row of new students and suddenly stopped on Clark, who stood head and shoulders above the rest. "You there, the tall lad. Yes, you. What year are you in, and which house? What are you doing in the first-years' line?"
Clark met Hagrid's eyes and raised his hand helplessly. "Sir, I am a first year."
"A first year?" Hagrid froze, then his expression turned doubtful.
He strode into the group, as gently as someone his size could manage, nudging the tiny eleven-year-olds aside until he stood in front of Clark.
"Where is your acceptance letter? Take it out and let me see." Hagrid lifted his lantern and peered at Clark's face. "I am warning you, do not try any tricks. I hate to say this, but if I find out you are some upper-year troublemaker, I will go straight to your Head of House."
Clark felt very helpless.
Hagrid's performance had drawn every new student's attention to him.
Clark took a deep breath and said steadily, "Mr. Hagrid, my acceptance letter is in my trunk, but you should be able to find my name on the first-year list. My name is Clark Carvel."
At that, Hagrid's huge hand reached into his patched moleskin coat and rummaged for a long time before he fished out a crumpled list.
"Clark… Clark… Ah, here you are, Clark Joseph Carvel. Merlin's beard, you really are a first year." Hagrid looked him up and down, his expression odd. A moment later, a strange glint appeared in his eyes. "I have not seen such a strapping little fellow in a very long time. Be sure to come down to the grounds for tea with me sometime."
"Ah… all right," Clark said, scratching his head, unable to refuse such sudden kindness.
Once the misunderstanding was cleared up, Hagrid did not say anything more.
As he turned away, though, he gave Harry a quick, meaningful wink.
Back at the head of the line, Hagrid cleared his throat. "All right, stop standing around like lost sheep. Follow me."
He led the way, humming an unfamiliar little tune as he went.
Clark followed the line of first years off the dark, chilly platform and out into open country.
Everywhere he looked he saw strangely shaped, ancient trees.
The silence all around was almost eerie.
"Do not fall behind, it is rough going here," Hagrid called back, his voice booming.
With that, he walked onto a narrow path.
The first years hurried after him.
The path was horribly hard to walk. It was wet and slippery, and the bushes on both sides kept snagging their robes.
After a long trek, Hagrid raised his lantern and laughed heartily. "Tired? Do not you dare feel tired. You are retracing the path trod by the four founders of the houses themselves. Look up, over there. We are here."
At the end of the path, on the far side of a vast black lake, stood a stately castle.
Its many turrets rose into the sky, and window after window glowed under the stars.
"All right, you will have plenty of time to be impressed once you are inside Hogwarts. For now, everyone into a boat." Hagrid clapped his hands to recapture the students' attention. "Remember, no more than four to a boat."
Many small boats were moored by the lakeshore.
Clark picked one at random and sat down steadily.
Harry and Ron naturally joined him.
The fourth spot was taken by a freckled girl with braids.
"My name is Hannah. Nice to meet you," she said timidly.
Clark gave her a friendly smile and instinctively looked around for oars.
After searching for a while and finding none, he could not help feeling puzzled.
But soon enough, that puzzlement vanished.
Because the boats began to move on their own.
"Magic really is amazing," Clark said, deeply impressed.
Harry nodded in firm agreement.
They passed under trailing vines and along sheer rock walls.
The Hogwarts castle loomed larger and clearer with every moment.
To Clark's embarrassment, even though Hagrid had given them a heads-up to duck, he still almost bashed his head.
At the last second, he reacted quickly and lay flat in the bottom of the boat, narrowly avoiding a repeat of his accident at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
They disembarked at a rickety dock, and Hagrid led the first years onto a cobbled path.
They crossed a wide stretch of lawn and climbed several flights of steps until they reached a massive oak front door.
Hagrid raised his fist and knocked three times, hard, then turned back to them with a broad, sincere grin. "Welcome to Hogwarts."
As he spoke, the door swung open, and out stepped a stern-faced witch in emerald robes and a pointed hat.
"Professor McGonagall, these are all the first years," Hagrid said, doffing his cap to reveal his shaggy, tangled hair. "I counted. No one was left behind."
"Thank you. Go inside and warm up," Professor McGonagall replied with a small nod. With a wave of her wand, she opened the door wide.
"Think nothing of it. Just doing my job," Hagrid said, waving his hands.
He strode into the castle.
After a few steps, he suddenly looked back and waved at the first years. "See you in the Great Hall in a bit."
Once Hagrid had gone, Professor McGonagall, expressionless and wand in hand, turned and headed into the castle. "Follow me."
The new students trailed after her excitedly, their eyes darting everywhere.
Moving portraits, burning torches, and a marble staircase that seemed to go on forever.
Everything was so strange and wonderful.
The witches and wizards in the portraits waved excitedly at Clark and the others, enthusiastically extolling the virtues of the houses they had belonged to in life.
Professor McGonagall's face remained impassive as she quickly led the first years into an empty room.
The room was not large. Four faded banners hung on the walls.
Despite the fading, it was still possible to see the lion, the serpent, the badger, and the eagle painted on them.
"First of all, welcome to Hogwarts. The feast is about to begin, but before you can take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses."
With a wave of her wand, Professor McGonagall conjured four glowing emblems representing the four house animals, drawing gasps from the students. "Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. Each house at Hogwarts has its own proud history and has produced many outstanding witches and wizards."
"While you are here at Hogwarts, your good behavior and achievements will earn points for your house, and any rule-breaking will lose points for your house."
"At the end of the year, the house with the most points will be awarded the House Cup. Believe me, that is a great honor, so no matter which house you end up in, I hope you will do it proud."
"In a few minutes, the Sorting Ceremony will begin. I suggest you prepare yourselves. At the very least, straighten your collars so you do not button them up wrong."
"When you are ready, I will come back for you. Until then, I expect you to remain quiet."
Having said everything that needed saying, Professor McGonagall left the room.
Clark glanced down at his trouser legs and decided they looked passable enough.
As for his shoes, after that muddy little path, there was no way they were going to be clean.
Even so, he still tried to wipe the soles discreetly.
He did not expect such a small, simple movement to be caught by something lurking above.
"Take this." A shrill voice suddenly rang out from the ceiling.
A sharp whistling sound cut through the air. Clark reacted on instinct, reaching up and snatching something out of midair.
He looked up.
And found himself staring into a pair of tiny, beady green eyes.