“If you really wanted to hide something, you shouldn’t have announced it to the whole school.”
“Are you saying the Headmaster is encouraging us to explore the fourth-floor corridor where we might ‘die a painful death’?
Mason, do you have a fever?”
Seamus was already showing signs of a rebellious son.
“I should remind you beforehand that stepping into that corridor when it’s explicitly forbidden will break four to seven school rules, not even counting nighttime wandering—”
“You’ve even memorized that?”
The banquet concluded amid scattered strains of the school song.
The first-years from all four houses followed their respective prefects to locate their common rooms.
Harry and Ron walked behind the trio, listening to Seamus’s complaints the whole way, alongside Hermione’s constant display of her knowledge and abilities—at least, that was how Ron saw it.
“Pardon me, my friends!
You must be the famous Harry Potter!” An exaggerated, passionate aria swept from the middle of the line to both ends, loud enough for Percy at the very front to hear clearly.
A tall, blonde boy bounded forward.
Harry had truly never seen such a grand entrance.
In an instant, a peculiar wild perfume mixed with sweat and food aromas filled his nostrils, choking Harry so much he couldn’t speak smoothly: “Cough, cough…
Yes, sir.”
“That lightning scar on your forehead is so hot!
If you ever get the chance, you must visit my hometown.
The girls in Naples will melt the ice in your heart with their passion!” The boy didn’t mind Harry’s strange form of address.
Releasing his hug, he reached into his exotic wizarding robes and pulled out two brilliantly colored quill pens.
“H-Hot?” Ron’s mouth gaped open, and he subtly stepped aside.
“A scar is proof of a man’s honor!
I forgot to mention, I’m Elaine—Elaine Rossi, from Naples.
I was supposed to attend Beauxbatons this year, but my mum is British.
When she heard you were enrolling this year, she brought me back to Liverpool…” Elaine handed the quills to Harry and Ron.
“Quills made from Occamy feathers.
They can store a massive amount of ink—enough that you won’t finish it even by graduation!”
A few watching first-years opened their mouths wide.
Quills made of Occamy feathers weren’t common in Britain, to say the least.
It wasn’t a matter of whether they were expensive; it was a matter of whether they were legal…
“No need to be so surprised, my friends!” Elaine pulled out his inner robe pocket, revealing a thick stack of quills.
“Everyone gets one!”
*Classic ‘throwing money around to make friends,’ but I like it.*
Mason squeezed over as well.
He wondered if using this kind of magical tool to write Iron Magic scrolls would increase his transcription success rate.
Elaine’s eyes lit up.
He opened his arms, intent on recreating the bear hug from a minute ago on Mason, but the agile boy dodged it, casually pulling Hermione out of the way as well.
Only Seamus, failing to evade in time, caught the brunt of it.
*Seamus: I feel like throwing up, mate.*
“What an eagle of a man!
No wonder your charmwork is so advanced.” Elaine thrust a quill into the dizzy Seamus’s hand, no longer dwelling on the hug, and sauntered over.
“That guy with the slicked-back hair counts as my relative.”
*No hostility.
Probably not here for revenge.*
Mason blinked his innocent eyes, gesturing for Hermione beside him not to worry.
“I’ve been sick of him for a long time~” Elaine shook hands with Mason, his face full of gloating amusement.
Elaine handed out all his quills until every Gryffindor first-year got one.
Even Percy received two—the extra one being for the absent female prefect.
Mason even received an extra bag of rewards.
Due to the crowd, he didn’t open it to see what was inside.
*Looks like I’ve triggered a loot-bag module, folks.*
Hermione quite liked the style of the quill.
Processed Occamy feathers scored exceptionally high in both smoothness and appearance.
Practicality?
As long as it looked pretty, that was all that mattered.
Speaking of which, Hermione keenly noticed the decorations on Elaine’s wizarding robes, which carried a heavy wilderness vibe.
It was vastly different from the Mediterranean style she had read about in *A Guide to Twentieth-Century Wizarding Attire*, looking much more like the garb of ancient Russian wizards.
And those decorations were undoubtedly genuine animal pelts.
Mason could roughly guess that the guy’s family ran a Magical Creatures business, likely on a considerable scale.
After bonding, it was time to hit the road—and by that, he meant returning to the common room.
Passing the staircases gave Mason a slight headache.
As someone with a slight lack of direction, it was hard to fully memorize the changing patterns of the stairs.
It seemed he would have to wake up early tomorrow.
A bundle of walking sticks floating in midair blocked everyone’s path.
“It’s Peeves!” Percy was nearly struck by a walking stick.
“I think ‘Pest’ would be a more fitting name for it.”
Peeves was displeased.
*Percy was supposed to shout for Peeves to come out first, then get thoroughly pranked by me until he had no choice but to yell for the Bloody Baron to save him, after which I would flee in panic!
Why start cursing the ghost right out of the gate?
That’s not how it’s written in Harry Potter!*
“I’m angry!” Peeves hurled the walking sticks viciously toward the ceiling, raining them down like a volley of arrows.
Percy, who had just received a gift and wanted to show off, now panicked.
*How did Peeves learn to attack with zero startup frames?*
“Shield.”
Mason happened to want to test his newly acquired magic manipulation techniques.
Previously, he was still in the Muggle state of his past life, lacking a clear awareness of the magic within his body.
But the letter sent by Apollyon had completely activated the relatively dormant magical factors inside him.
Mason could now perform far more delicate manipulations of his spells—he was practically a tactical master capable of shifting a shield spell’s position five centimeters to the left.
A massive, translucent blue shield appeared above the young wizards, pushing diagonally upward at a speed of one meter per second.
It perfectly deflected all the scattered walking sticks—though someone was still hit by a stray stick, which was purely bad luck.
The steadily advancing shield drew everyone’s attention, including Peeves, who stood directly in its path.
“Show-off!
Arrogant brat!
Do you think an ordinary charm can do anything to the great Peeves…” Before Peeves could finish speaking, the magic shield capable of deflecting physical objects slammed hard against its face.
The force was no less than a normal person getting slapped by an iron door.
“Pfft—” It looked utterly disheveled.
“You…
can actually hit me?”
“If you weren’t a ghost, I’d guess your next line would be: ‘Not even my parents have ever hit me!'”
“Not even the Headmaster has ever hit me!”
Peeves left in tears.
In truth, Percy had summoned the Bloody Baron.
“You need to be careful.
Peeves probably has his eyes on you now,” Percy said earnestly.
He looked at Mason with envy, a feeling shared by the other young wizards, including Elaine.
Most of them hadn’t even learned a single charm yet, let alone casting a defensive spell so effortlessly.
The clothes on Mason’s body suddenly shifted, reverting inappropriately to the casual outfit he had worn on the train.
*Changing clothes in public is a required course for magical girls.
And wizards, rounded up, are half magical girls anyway…*
Percy finally seemed to remember something: “Professor McGonagall asked me to tell you that your luggage was shipped internationally to the Ministry of Magic.
It will be delivered to Hogwarts later tonight, and the house-elves will organize it in your dormitory.”
“Thanks, Prefect.
Please thank Professor McGonagall for me too~” Mason yawned.
His magic recovery rate was slightly slower than in the game, and it consumed a tiny bit of extra energy and stamina.
Having wandered around the train all afternoon, he was already quite tired.
Mason regretted a bit not choosing Hufflepuff.
He heard they lived right next to the kitchen, where they could grab whatever they wanted to eat or even cook for themselves.
Besides, Hufflepuff had that vampire…
no, Cedric Diggory.
He could probably be dragged over as a tool for researching spells, too.
Inside the dormitory, the five boys—Elaine, Seamus, Ron, Harry, and Mason—looked at one another, quickly growing familiar.
This night was still very long~