The first years imagined it all at once. They saw themselves soaring happily through the sky, the wind cool against their faces and the whole of Hogwarts spread out beneath them like something from a dream. Then thunder would crack overhead, lightning would tear through the clouds, and one unlucky student would be struck out of the air and reduced to a smoking lump of charcoal.
"Ugh!" A shiver ran through the group almost in unison. None of them looked nearly as eager to fly through a storm after that.
"But don't be too disappointed," Tyler said, smiling at their frightened faces. "First years at Hogwarts have flying lessons. When the time comes, all of you will get to experience what flying feels like."
"Is that true?" one boy asked, brightening at once.
"I have cousins at Hogwarts. Maybe I should've asked them," another muttered, looking annoyed with himself. "They never told me anything useful."
"Older students are awful about that," someone else complained. "They act mysterious and say we'll understand when we get here."
The first years began whispering and chattering again, their fear of lightning quickly replaced by curiosity. They seemed to have endless energy, swinging from terror to excitement in a heartbeat as though the day had not already included a runaway train, forbidden Hogsmeade, flying swords, and an approaching storm.
"All right, first years!" Hagrid called, waving one huge hand toward them. "Follow me, now. Don't stand about there in a clump."
The students fell in behind him, still glancing back at the lake and the restored boats bobbing on the dark water. Overhead, the sky had grown frighteningly heavy. Thunder rolled again and again, lightning flickered behind the clouds, and the thick, humid air pressed down on them until every breath felt damp.
The wind began to rise. It rushed across the lakeshore with a low howl, filling the first years' oversized robes until they puffed out around them. For a moment, half the group looked like round black balloons wobbling after Hagrid, and even a few nervous students could not help laughing.
"Keep moving!" Hagrid shouted over the wind. "Nearly there."
He led them up through a tunnel carved into the rock beneath the castle. The stone walls were cold and wet, and the footsteps of dozens of students echoed around them in uneven bursts. Eventually, the tunnel opened out onto a flat, damp stretch of grass lying in the castle's shadow, and from there, they climbed a set of stone steps to a pair of enormous oak doors.
Hagrid raised one massive fist and knocked several times. The sound boomed through the wood, heavy enough to make a few first years flinch. A moment later, the doors opened.
Professor McGonagall stood in the entrance, tall and severe in emerald-green robes. Her dark hair was pinned neatly beneath her pointed hat, and her expression was so serious that even the wind seemed to quiet in front of her. As Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor House, and Professor of Transfiguration, she looked exactly like someone who could turn a student into a ferret if the rules allowed it.
"The first years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said, his voice suddenly much more careful.
"Thank you, Hagrid," Professor McGonagall replied. Her sharp eyes moved briefly over him, and her tone hardened. "You may leave them with me now. Go and rest, and remember—no more drinking."
"Oh, yes. I mean, I didn't have much, really, just a bit because of Harry's first day and all…" Hagrid mumbled under her stare, then cleared his throat. "Right. No more drinking."
He turned away, still muttering into his beard, and lumbered back down the steps. Several first years watched him go with sympathy, because for someone so enormous, Hagrid had looked remarkably small in front of Professor McGonagall.
"First years, follow me," Professor McGonagall said.
She turned and swept into the castle, and the students hurried after her at once, afraid of being left behind on their very first night. The moment they stepped inside, the noise of the storm faded behind thick stone walls, replaced by the immense quiet of Hogwarts. Torches burned along the passages, their flames flickering gold against ancient stone.
Tyler and Jamie looked around as they walked. The castle's interior carried a heavy medieval grandeur, old in a way that felt lived in rather than abandoned. High ceilings, carved arches, worn flagstones, and shadowed corners spoke of nearly a thousand years of magic, secrets, and students passing through the same halls.
Professor McGonagall led them across the entrance hall and into a small empty chamber off to one side. From beyond the wall, they could hear the muffled roar of hundreds of students already seated in the Great Hall. The voices blended together into a restless, excited noise, too crowded to make out any single conversation.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said, turning to face them. "Although, given today's events, we have already met somewhat earlier than usual."
Several first years lowered their heads. Her face remained stern, and no one dared laugh.
"The start-of-term feast will begin shortly," she continued. "Before you take your seats in the Great Hall, however, you must be Sorted into your houses."
The room went still. Even students from wizarding families leaned forward slightly, because this was the part no one had explained properly. The mystery of the Sorting had been guarded by older siblings, parents, and cousins with infuriating loyalty.
"The Sorting is a very important ceremony," Professor McGonagall said. "While you are at school, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will attend classes with your housemates, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend much of your free time in your house common room."
She let the words settle before continuing. "The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and has produced many outstanding witches and wizards."
A few students shifted nervously. Ron looked especially anxious at the mention of Slytherin, while Draco Malfoy lifted his chin as though the house already belonged to him by birthright. Hermione, despite all her earlier anger, listened with fierce attention, absorbing every word.
"During your time at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose points for your house," Professor McGonagall said, her gaze sweeping over them in a way that made several students remember Hogsmeade. "At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup. It is a great honour, and I trust each of you will strive to bring credit to whichever house you join."
No one spoke. The idea that their actions could affect an entire house seemed to make the castle feel even larger around them. For a few first years, it was thrilling; for others, it was terrifying.
"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in front of the whole school in a few minutes," Professor McGonagall said. "While you wait here, I suggest you tidy yourselves as best you can. You should try to look presentable."
Her eyes lingered briefly on wind-tangled hair, damp robes, grass-stained hems, and several faces still smudged from the day's chaos. More than one student immediately began smoothing their clothes or patting down their hair. Ron tried to flatten his fringe with one hand and somehow made it worse.
"I will return when everything is ready," Professor McGonagall said, moving toward the door. "Until then, remain quiet and do not wander."
With that final warning, she left the chamber. The door closed behind her, and for perhaps three seconds, the room obeyed her command.
Then the whispers began.
"How do they decide which house we go into?" Harry asked, leaning toward Tyler. His voice was low, but the students nearby still heard him. "Do you know?"
At once, several first years turned toward Tyler. After the train, Hogsmeade, and the flying swords, many of them had already decided that he and Jamie knew things ordinary students did not. Even those who tried to look casual were clearly listening.
"Of course I know," Tyler said.
The effect was immediate. The whispers around him sharpened with interest, and even Hermione glanced over despite herself. Ron leaned in too, half curious and half nervous.
"I'm guessing no one told you what the Sorting Ceremony actually involves," Tyler said, looking around the room. "Even those of you from wizarding families. No matter how much you asked, they probably just said, 'You'll find out when you get there,' didn't they?"
A wave of nods passed through the first years. The wizard-born students were especially enthusiastic, looking vindicated by the accusation. Most of them had pestered parents, siblings, cousins, and neighbours for details, only to be met with smug smiles and maddening evasions.
"My brothers wouldn't tell me anything," Ron said bitterly. "Fred and George said it involved wrestling a troll, but Percy told me not to listen to them, which wasn't actually helpful."
Draco sniffed from nearby. "My father said a proper wizard has nothing to fear from the Sorting."
"That also explains nothing," Ron muttered.
Tyler's smile grew faintly mysterious. "Then I'll tell you. The so-called Sorting Ceremony is a test where we have to face a dragon or a giant. Only those who pass are allowed to enter Hogwarts. Anyone who fails is eliminated."
The room erupted.
"What?" someone shrieked. "A dragon?"
"Merlin's beard, we're eleven!" another student cried. "How are we supposed to fight a giant?"
"I don't want to be eliminated!" a girl wailed, already teary-eyed. "My mum said Hogwarts was safe!"
Fear spread through the room like sparks through dry grass. Several students went pale, and one boy looked as though he might be sick on his new shoes. Neville, who had only just recovered from fainting earlier, swayed dangerously again and had to grab the wall for support.
Harry's stomach dropped. After everything else that had happened that day, the idea of Hogwarts making them fight a dragon sounded insane, but not entirely impossible. The wizarding world had already proved that danger and wonder were often only a step apart.
Hermione frowned. Unlike the others, her fear collided almost immediately with suspicion. "That can't be right," she said, fixing Tyler with a sharp look. "How could we possibly be expected to beat a dragon or a giant? We haven't learned any proper magic yet."
"Exactly," another student said desperately, seizing her logic as a lifeline. "They can't make us do that, can they?"
Tyler looked perfectly calm. "Of course, the professors will restrict the dragon or giant. All we have to do is avoid its attacks."
.....
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