Hopping off the train with Hermione, we were immediately greeted by a sharp, cold wind—and a huge, hairy fellow who had to be at least eleven feet tall. I briefly wondered if he might be the Sasquatch Muggles were always searching for.
"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"
The giant's face beamed as he looked out over the sea of heads.
"C'mon now, follow me—any more firs' years? Mind yer step! Firs' years, follow me!"
We followed him down a steep, narrow path—one I was amazed he could walk so easily. It was so dark that most of us focused entirely on not slipping and tumbling down the slope.
"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," the giant called over his shoulder. "Jus' round this bend here."
A loud "Oooooh!" rose from the group ahead, and when I reached the front, I couldn't help letting out the same sound of awe.
The path opened onto the edge of a vast black lake. On the other side, perched high atop a mountain, stood a massive castle—its windows sparkling beneath the starry sky. It looked like something that should only exist in storybooks.
"No more'n four to a boat!" a loud voice called, snapping me out of my trance.
"Well, Miss Granger," I said, extending a hand with a small bow, "Would you do me the honor of sharing a boat with me?"
At my masterful display of gentlemanly charm, I was rewarded with a scoff and a muttered comment about me being ridiculous as she walked past and boarded the first empty boat.
Chuckling softly, I followed her in. Two familiar faces—Ron and Harry—joined us shortly after, and I greeted them with a brief hello.
"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, as Harry had told me his name earlier. "Right then—FORWARD!"
The small fleet of boats glided across the lake. As we moved, Hermione began bombarding me with trivia she'd memorized from Hogwarts: A History.
I nodded along politely.
I can't say I paid much attention.
The worst part of the night had to be when we finally reached the castle. I hadn't known that so many stairs could exist in one place. I was fairly certain it took close to thirty minutes just to reach our designated waiting area, where an older witch was already standing.
"Thank you, Hagrid," she said with a nod before turning to us. "Right then—welcome to Hogwarts. In a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates. But before you take your seats, you will be sorted into your houses."
She paused and scanned the crowd, seeming to check that we were all paying attention, before continuing. "The houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. While you are here, your house will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn your house points; rule-breaking will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will be awarded the House Cup."
As she paused, I heard a croak near my feet.
Looking down, I was surprised to see a rather large toad.
"Trevor!" Neville exclaimed behind me as he rushed forward and scooped it up—only to immediately look like he regretted that decision under the professor's sharp gaze.
How curious. How in the world had the toad managed to get here from the train? It definitely hadn't been with us during the climb.
"The Sorting will begin momentarily," Professor McGonagall said before stepping away.
During the brief wait, a blond boy strutted over with two large, troll-like companions. I watched them for a moment, then turned to Hermione.
"Fascinating, isn't it?" I asked.
"Of course," she replied, looking around in awe. "This school is wondrous. It seems Hogwarts: A History didn't quite do it justice."
I shook my head. "No, not that—though I agree. What I meant was Neville's toad. It made it all the way from the train and up those stairs. Quite the impressive amphibian. Though someone could have just as easily summoned it here for him."
Hermione looked as though she was about to respond when the doors opened and Professor McGonagall called us forward.
The Great Hall was enormous. Four long tables stretched across the room, filled with students, while hundreds of candles floated above us. The ceiling appeared to be an open night sky.
"It isn't real, you know," Hermione whispered. "The ceiling—it's bewitched to look like the night sky. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."
"Hmm," I murmured. "Magic really is impressive to make it look so convincing. Still, I'm glad it isn't real—it'd be rather cold in here."
As I spoke to her, my mind briefly wandered—if I were to grab one of the candles, would the charm making them float also support my weight, or would I immediately regret that decision?
Pulling me from my thoughts, Professor McGonagall spoke again,
"Before we begin," she said crisply, "Professor Dumbledore would like to say a few words."
At the call, a very tall—and very old—man with long white hair and an equally long beard stood from the center table and cleared his throat.
"I have a few start-of-term notices I wish to announce," he said calmly. "First-years should note that the Forbidden Forest—as its name should rather clearly inform you—is restricted to all students."
Well, I couldn't say slapping the word forbidden on something was going to stop kids from daring their mates to go in.
"Our caretaker, Mr. Filch," Dumbledore continued, gesturing toward a rather unpleasant-looking man standing in the doorway with a cat at his feet, "has asked me to remind you that the corridor on the third floor, on the right-hand side, is out of bounds to anyone who does not wish to die a most painful death."
Right.
None of us First-years had any idea where that corridor actually was. Which meant someone was almost guaranteed to wander into it by accident. So unless he was joking—and I really hoped he was—statistically speaking, at least one of us wasn't making it through the year.
Dumbledore smiled as though he'd just reminded us not to run in the halls.
"Thank you."
And with that, he sat back down.
With the Headmaster finished, Professor McGonagall stepped forward again and continued where she'd left off.
"When I call your name, you will come forward. I will place the Sorting Hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your house. Bones, Susan."
That was about as much as I paid attention. Since my surname started with W, I knew I had a long wait ahead. I vaguely remembered Hermione and Harry being called—both looking nervous as the hat was placed on their heads. In the end, they were sorted into Gryffindor, which I had expected.
"Winters, Perseus."
Finally.
I strode up to the stool, more relieved than nervous, eager to get it over with.
As the hat slipped over my head, a voice spoke.
"Ah, a rather eccentric one. You appreciate the unusual. I see a tendency to be 'away with the fairies,' as some might say—but paired with a mind that seeks to understand why things work. You're even thinking about how I function right now, aren't you? I know exactly where you belong… RAVENCLAW!"
"Thank you, Mr. Hat," I said quietly. "I hope this truly is the house for me—though I wouldn't have minded Hufflepuff."
Walking toward the Ravenclaw table, I gave Hermione a small wave as I passed. She looked just a little disappointed.
It seemed she had hoped we'd end up in the same house.
Yeah, that would've been nice—though I think she fits Ravenclaw far more than I ever will. But what do I know? The Hat was made for this sort of thing.
Once seated, I got to know Anthony Goldstein. His surname caught my attention immediately—one I recognized from my last life. Having only watched the Fantastic Beasts films, I knew of Tina and Queenie Goldstein, and I'd also read about them years ago in history books.
"Goldstein?" I asked. "Would you happen to be related to Porpentina Scamander and Queenie Goldstein?"
He blinked, surprised. "That's an unexpected question—but yes. Distant cousins. I'm surprised you know about them, especially Queenie."
"Oh, Queenie's rather famous in America," I said. "I lived there for eleven years, so it was impossible not to hear about her. She played a big role in the repeal of Rappaport's Law in 1965. Sure, she had that… blemish, but she did it for love. And Porpentina—she was a legend. Head of the Auror Office and instrumental in Grindelwald's capture. You've got some impressive witches in your family tree."
Anthony stared at me, clearly processing information he'd never heard before. "Wow. I'll have to ask my dad about that."
"You could also ask the Headmaster," I added. "They were good friends in their youth."
That completely shut his brain down.
The Sorting Ceremony soon finished, and the Great Hall fell silent as the Headmaster stood.
"Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you"
With the end of his seemingly random words, food appeared across all the tables in astonishing assortments.
I spent a truly grand time talking with my new friend, Goldstein. The time flew by, and before I knew it, I was standing in front of a large door with an even larger eagle knocker.
The Prefect, Robert Hilliard, stopped us and explained, "To enter the Ravenclaw common room, you must answer the riddle asked of you. Let's try it, Winters—you're already at the front."
I nodded and stepped forward. The door spoke:
"I have no sword, I have no spear,
Yet rule a horde which many fear.
My soldiers fight with a wicked sting,
I rule with might, yet am no king.
What am I?"
No sword, no spear—so not a warrior. A horde, not an army. That meant something that swarmed.
"A wicked sting" narrowed it down fast. Bees. Wasps. Insects.
A ruler, but not male. A center everything revolved around.
Of course.
Bees feared in a swarm. Soldiers that sting. A ruler by nature.
"I'll go with a Queen Bee."
At my answer, the eagle folded its wings, and the door swung open.
"Nicely thought, Winters," Prefect Hilliard said as he escorted us inside the common room.
Once we were all gathered, he spoke again. "This is the common room. Feel free to rest here at any time, and make use of the small library in the corner—you may find the knowledge you need there. The left staircase leads to the boys' dormitories, the right to the girls'. Your belongings are already in place, so find your room and get some sleep. You don't want to be late for class in the morning."
The next morning, I woke before the dormitory clock had a chance to chime. A quick glance told me it was 6:30. Feeling well-rested, I bathed, dressed, and headed down for breakfast. No point in lingering in the dorms.
I reached the Great Hall around 7:15 to find it mostly empty, save for a handful of older students quietly reading as they ate. Scanning the room a little longer, a smile crept onto my face when I spotted a familiar mess of brown hair bent intently over a book while its owner nibbled on bacon.
With a light step, I snuck up behind Hermione and peeked over her shoulder. First-year Transfiguration.
I cleared my throat. "You know," I said teasingly, "I'm fairly certain there's a spell that could help with your hair."
"Perseus!" she snapped, setting her book down. "You really shouldn't sneak up on people like that."
"I told you to call me Percy," I replied as I took the seat beside her and helped myself to eggs and sausages. "And I figured I'd save you from burning yourself out. I'm pretty sure you've read that book at least ten times already."
"There's already a prefect in my house using that nickname," she said primly. "And why are you sitting here? You should be at your own table."
"There's no rule saying only one person can have a nickname," I countered. "And no rule saying I can't sit with a friend, right?"
She continued lecturing me about rules and propriety, though she didn't exactly ask me to leave. If anything, she seemed pleased I was there.
Comparing schedules, we discovered we wouldn't be sharing many classes—unfortunate, but unavoidable. I assured her I'd still find plenty of opportunities to bother her during meals, which earned me a smile.
We parted ways after breakfast, and I headed to Defense Against the Dark Arts.
I'll be honest—it was painful. The professor stuttered, changed topics constantly, and failed to explain anything in a way that made sense. History of Magic wasn't much better. By lunchtime, I'd decided it would be far more efficient to self-study and borrow notes from classmates.
Out of my three classes that day, only one was genuinely enjoyable.
Transfiguration.
Professor McGonagall began the lesson by showing off her animagus transformation, I had no clue she was the cat on the desk, scared the socks off me.
The material itself was fairly basic—altering properties of objects—but it was something I already understood well.
Within moments, I had transfigured my matchstick into a finely crafted needle, engraved neatly with the Ravenclaw insignia.
"My word, Mr. Winters," Professor McGonagall said, examining it closely. "That is a very fine piece of magic. Ten points to Ravenclaw. And please see me after class."
Once the room had emptied, I approached her desk.
"You wanted to see me, Professor?"
"Yes," she replied. "Where did you learn to transfigure with such precision?"
"My mom helped me understand the theory behind it," I answered honestly. "But I mostly just enjoy Transfiguration. Changing things with just my imagination is so much fun. Of course, I found there are limits. You need material to make material, otherwise the result ends up flawed or flimsy."
"Correct," she said approvingly. "Tell me, Mr. Winters—how interested would you be in learning ahead? I'll need to speak with the Headmaster first, but I see no reason it couldn't be arranged, provided you agree."
"That would be brilliant, Professor," I said eagerly. "Would I be able to learn the Animagus transformation sometime soon as well?"
She raised an eyebrow. "That is highly advanced magic. It will have to wait. You'll need to prove you're ready before I even consider teaching you such a thing."
With that, she dismissed me so she could return to her work
Just like that, Halloween arrived.
The weeks leading up to it were… eventful, to say the least—at least for some people.
Harry had somehow managed to land the Seeker position on the Quidditch team, making him the youngest player in a century, or so everyone kept saying.
There was also a rather concerning bit of information Hermione shared with me.
Apparently, Harry had been challenged to a duel by Malfoy, and Ron—brilliantly—had accepted on his behalf. Long story short, Hermione followed along, they were chased by Filch thanks to one of Malfoy's particularly nasty tricks, and somehow ended up in a room on the third floor containing a Cerberus.
An actual three-headed dog.
I was relieved Hermione had made it out alive—and more than a little disturbed to learn that Dumbledore hadn't been joking about the whole painful death thing.
I can't say much excitement happened on my end leading up to Halloween, but it seemed those three had managed to pack an impressive amount of chaos into just a few weeks.
Honestly, I was starting to wish the Hat had put me in Gryffindor.
Pulling myself out of my internal musings, I made my way to the Great Hall for dinner, immediately greeted by Halloween decorations and a sky filled with dramatic, thunderous clouds. Despite the ominous setting, the atmosphere inside was warm and joyful—laughing students, floating pumpkins, and enchanted candles doing their best spooky impressions.
As I approached the Ravenclaw table, I glanced over at the Gryffindor table to wave hello to Hermione.
She wasn't there.
That was… odd.
I scanned the hall once more before spotting Parvati Patil—familiar enough, given she was the twin of someone in my house. More importantly, she had a reputation for being quite the gossip.
"Hello, Parvati," I said politely. "Would you happen to know where Hermione is? She seems to be missing."
Parvati's expression turned more complicated. "Oh. She locked herself in one of the girls' bathroom stalls after our last class. She's been crying all afternoon."
"I see," I replied. "Thank you, Parvati."
I turned on my heel. "Well then. Looks like I've got a girls' bathroom to sneak into."
I arrived at the bathroom to the unmistakable sound of quiet sniffles. After a moment's hesitation—and deciding that missing the feast likely meant I wouldn't be interrupting anyone—I stepped inside.
Approaching a closed stall, I spoke softly. "That you in there, Hermione?"
The sniffles stopped instantly.
"Perseus!" she yelled. "Get out of the girls' bathroom!"
"I will get you to call me Percy one of these days," I said calmly. "But first, I'm taking you to eat. They've got an excellent spread tonight, and it'd be a shame for you to miss it."
"I'm not going," she snapped—definitely pouting.
"Alright," I said easily. "Then how about the common room? Yours or mine. Though I should mention Ravenclaw has a personal library that magically provides the books you're thinking about. Aside from the restricted section, of course."
That did it.
The stall door creaked open, revealing Hermione with red, puffy eyes.
"Well then," I said lightly, offering my elbow, "allow me to escort you, my damsel in distress, to the Ravenclaw common room."
To my surprise, she accepted my arm with a small nod.
We stepped out of the bathroom—
—and immediately came face to face with a troll.
A very large one.
Hermione froze and gripped my arm tightly. Unfortunately, this confirmed I was not hallucinating.
"Well," I said carefully, "you wouldn't happen to be Mr. Crabbe or Mr. Goyle, would you?"
The troll responded by roaring and swinging its club, obliterating the doorway and sending chunks of stone flying.
I yanked Hermione back just in time, drawing my wand.
"Fair enough," I muttered. "I wouldn't enjoy the comparison either."
With a flick of my wand, I transfigured a chunk of debris into a long spear.
The troll raised its club again, and with no time to dodge, I aimed at the weapon and shouted, "Spongify!"
The impact was softer than expected—but still strong enough to send me flying into the wall.
Pain exploded through my side, and my vision blurred.
Somewhere through the ringing in my ears, I saw Harry and Ron rush in—perfect timing, really—drawing the troll's attention long enough for me to stagger back to my feet.
"Okay," I muttered. "I've got this."
I cast Wingardium Leviosa on the spear, lining it up.
"Get down!" I shouted to Harry and Ron.
The moment they ducked, I poured every ounce of will I had into the spell and yelled, "Flipendo!"
The spear launched forward at terrifying speed, piercing straight through the troll's neck.
It collapsed instantly.
Silence followed.
Staring at the fallen body, all I could think was:
I was aiming for its chest.
Then the world tilted.
Darkness closed in as I heard Hermione, Harry, and Ron shouting my name.
Apparently, slamming into a stone wall hurts more than adrenaline lets you believe.