A brief hush fell over the Great Hall, followed immediately by a roar of cheers from the Hufflepuff table.
A Weasley had actually been sorted into their house.
The older students were particularly thrilled, for the Weasley children were simply too exceptional—every single one of them possessed remarkable talents.
William Arthur Weasley, better known as Bill, had served as both prefect and Head Boy, sweeping twelve Outstanding marks in his O.W.L.s.
Even among Ravenclaws, he was regarded as something of a legend.
Charlie Weasley had graduated only this year, and even more people knew him.
He was an absolute combat-oriented wizard; unlike his bookish older and younger brothers, Charlie was a physical powerhouse, practically known as a troll on the Quidditch pitch.
He had been the undisputed ace of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and word was that the beast of a man was off rearing dragons now—a path that stirred endless admiration among hormone-fueled young witches and wizards.
Then there was Percy Weasley, still at the school, who looked poised to become the next Bill.
As for the twins—or rather, two-thirds of the triplets—everyone was thoroughly convinced that the pair would eventually wind up either in the history books of magic or on arrest warrants issued by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
After all, within just one school year, they had caused Hogwarts to lengthen its list of prohibited items by an absurd margin, and had even prompted Albus Dumbledore to explicitly emphasize that first-years were strictly forbidden from entering the Forbidden Forest.
Really, who on earth was reckless enough to pull that off in their first year?
Even the upper years dared not venture in.
Hufflepuff’s Head of House, Professor Pomona Sprout, watched with intense curiosity.
She genuinely wanted to see what Hufflepuff traits this particular Weasley possessed.
As for losing points?
Hah.
Hufflepuff had never cared about house points anyway.
Aside from the Hufflepuffs’ heartfelt celebration, even Minerva McGonagall, the Head of Gryffindor, felt only a brief flicker of oddity before a faint sense of relief crept into her heart.
She truly did not want to watch her house sink to the bottom.
*Curse those two masterminds of chaos!*
Raven offered a quick wink to his brothers and friends at the Gryffindor table, ignoring their utter astonishment, then stepped down and walked toward the Hufflepuffs.
The Hufflepuff students had already cleared a seat for him in the second-year section.
The moment he sat down, the classmates on either side wasted no time introducing themselves.
The first to speak was a boy of Mexican descent with black hair tied into a man bun.
Unusually tall and with somewhat rugged features, he looked at least fourteen or fifteen at first glance. New chapters come out on g.com first.
Surprisingly, when he opened his mouth, out came a crisp London accent.
He warmly extended a large hand.
“Hey there. I’m Jackie, Jackie Welles. My dad’s side moved from Mexico to Heywood in London, and that’s where I grew up. My mom runs a bar there called El Coyote Cojo. My dream is to become a master brewer in the wizarding world.”
*A shot of vodka on the rocks, lime juice, ginger beer, and a splash of love.
—Jackie Welles.*
*Where have I heard this introduction before, brother?
Are we about to follow Kakashi-sensei to the Black Lake to practice walking on water?
And why are you the only one not wearing a wizard’s hat?
More importantly, you’re supposed to be twelve like the rest of us, right?
You’re not even old enough to drink—isn’t it a bit early to become a master brewer?!*
There were too many absurdities to count, but his internal complaints didn’t slow Raven down.
He reached out and shook Jackie’s hand.
Before he could introduce himself, the girl on his right chimed in.
“I’m Poppy, Poppy Sweeting. Named after my great-great-aunt, the famous Hebridean Black Witch. Native British witch. The Sweetings maintain a magical beast sanctuary in a valley in Bulgaria. We regularly gather shed materials and remains from creatures that died of natural causes to sell to wizards. My dream is to befriend every magical beast out there and become a master of magical creatures, just like Grandpa Newt.”
*What kind of master?
The Masters Eight?
Are you going to go catch an electric mouse as your partner first?*
Of course, Raven actually knew the girl before him—or rather, he had known her great-great-aunt.
A century ago, the Sweetings had been a family of poachers, but Poppy had been the exception.
Their shared interests had led to frequent interactions back then, making them kindred spirits and close friends.
Later, when Raven went about wiping out the poachers, she had asked him to leave the Sweeting family for her to handle.
It seemed that Hebridean Black dragon had done her a tremendous favor.
“I’m Raven. You probably already know my family background. Those two over in Gryffindor third year are my brothers. My dream is to become the Hokage—er, no, it’s just to have something fun happen every day of my life.”
Having met his peers, Raven followed their format and offered his own self-introduction.
Soon, Albus Dumbledore rose to announce the start of the feast.
Food materialized on the tables; Raven knew it had been transported up from the kitchens below.
Dinner was indeed lavish. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
The roast turkey wasn’t worth mentioning—it was purely ornamental, a dish that had brought enough misery to the people of the Americas.
But the remaining meat dishes, such as the short ribs and the tender pea and lamb stew, were cooked to perfection.
The Dixie pasties serving as the staple held their ground admirably, tasting even better than they had a century ago; they certainly hadn’t disappointed the recipe he had passed down back then.
Capping off the meal with a glass of sweet iced tea, Raven wiped the corners of his mouth with satisfaction, then followed the prefects out of the hall toward the common room.
The Hufflepuff common room was located on the basement level.
Leaving the Great Hall and turning left, one descended the stairs by the bronze statue of the Hogwarts architect.
At the foot of the staircase lay a corridor piled with wooden barrels.
Tapping the bottom of the second barrel from the middle of the second row in the rhythm of ‘Helga Hufflepuff’ caused the lid to swing open, revealing an earthy passage within.
Of course, tapping the wrong rhythm would trigger a drenching shower of vinegar.
Unless one happened to be looking for dumpling dip, making a mistake was not recommended.
Unlike the other houses, the Hufflepuff common room offered an exceptionally cozy atmosphere.
Large copper cauldrons hung from the ceiling, some overflowing with trailing vines like spider plants, while others burst with bright blossoms.
Roughly twenty to thirty such cauldrons dangled throughout the room.
The plaster had almost entirely peeled away from the walls, exposing red brickwork that complemented the wooden architecture beautifully.
Greenery stood beside every piece of furniture, right down to the floor lamps, while the coffee tables were laden with fruit and pastries.
Teacups, meanwhile, could be found resting on virtually any flat surface.
The dormitories had already been assigned.
As a transfer student, Raven couldn’t be squeezed into any of the existing second-year rooms, so he was granted a small private room—slightly smaller than a five-person dormitory, but more than spacious enough for one person.
Raven didn’t actually need sleep.
His body, converted from an alchemical homunculus, possessed limitless stamina; letting his mind wander from time to time was enough to give his brain ample rest.
He could have spent all his time holed up in his base, which happened to be inside Hogwarts, but he still needed a dormitory to keep up appearances, and this private room suited him perfectly.
Furthermore, there was another crucial detail: the kitchens were right next to the Hufflepuff common room.
Saying it was two steps away was only a slight exaggeration; in truth, it was no more than six.
Having analyzed the dishes from dinner, Raven had already formulated adjustments and improvement techniques for each one.
It was high time he gave this generation of house-elves a proper lesson.