“Hello, Mrs. Longbottom.”
Harry reached out his hand.
For some reason, he felt that the old woman looking down at him held a gaze filled with a touch of emotion and a sliver of regret.
“…Hello.”
Mrs. Longbottom reached out and shook Harry’s small hand.
“Poor child, did you come here all by yourself?”
As he greeted her, the puzzling emotion in her eyes grew even more pronounced.
“Yes, ma’am,” Harry replied.
Soon enough, he understood why the old woman’s gaze carried such a complex meaning.
“Neville, you ought to learn from Mr. Potter’s bravery!” the old woman chided the boy standing beside her in a soft voice.
“You are the heir to the Longbottom name!”
Neville’s face flushed bright red, his ears burning as well.
He kept his head lowered, staring at the tips of his shoes, his hands twisting nervously in the side seams of his robes.
Right then.
A strict grandmother and a timid heir.
While observing the two of me, Harry’s sharp eyes swept across the other young witches and wizards nearby.
There was a girl with bushy brown hair and prominent front teeth; a boy with slicked-back hair and an arrogant expression, just like his own; and, of course, the pink-cheeked girl with two golden braids who had noticed him right from the start…
As Harry was sizing them up, they—along with the parents standing beside them—were looking over in his direction as well.
Compared to the complex expressions on their parents’ faces, the outward expressions of these young witches and wizards almost completely laid bare their inner thoughts.
The buck-toothed girl made no attempt to hide her curiosity as she stared at him.
The arrogant, blonde-haired boy met his gaze directly; the moment Harry shifted his eyes away, the boy grinned as if he had just claimed a victory.
Meanwhile, the girl with the two golden braids blushed shyly when his eyes landed on her…
In the wizarding world, kids are still just kids—and kids living in a time of peace at that, Harry thought as he withdrew his gaze.
Perhaps I’ll find plenty among them who are just as stupid and willful as Dudley and his friends.
The line was moving forward, and quite a few newly arrived first-years had joined behind him.
However, right behind Harry stood a student who was clearly not a first-year.
He was noticeably taller and broader than the other young wizards.
As Harry approached the barrier, the tall boy behind him spoke up.
“Don’t be nervous. If you’re scared, you can pick up the pace a bit…”
Before he could finish his sentence, Harry had already pushed his luggage cart and calmly strolled straight through the barrier.
Beyond it lay a completely different world—just like Diagon Alley behind the Leaky Cauldron, this world belonged to wizards.
A deep crimson steam locomotive was parked beside a platform packed with passengers.
What used to be a solid wall was now a wrought-iron archway bearing the words: Platform 9 ¾.
Harry pushed his cart, looking along the platform for an entrance to get onto the train.
“You’re really brave, Harry. Most first-years hesitate a little the first time they pass through that wall, and then they charge right at it in one go. But you just strolled in casually. Maybe you’ll end up sorted into Gryffindor.”
The boy who had offered him advice earlier followed close behind and introduced himself: “Cedric Diggory, third year.”
“Hello. Thank you for the tip just now,” Harry said offhandedly.
“Mr. Diggory, would you mind telling me where I should board?”
“Of course! Actually, you can just call me Cedric,” Cedric said with a smile.
“You board right here. You can leave your luggage at the drop-off point for now. Once we arrive at the school, house-elves will help carry our bags up to the dorms. As for you first-years, you’ll head straight to the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony.”
“The Sorting Ceremony?”
Following his advice, Harry placed his luggage onto the storage pile—excluding, of course, the small pouch containing his precious belongings.
He kept that pouch strapped to his waist at all times; inside were coins, his wand, and a few potions.
“Yes, the Sorting Ceremony. Well, I think it’s best if you don’t ask me what it entails, because I won’t tell you. It’s a tradition,” Cedric said with a laugh.
“If you insist on asking, I’ll probably just make up a few lies to fool you. Of course, the other upperclassmen will do the same. It’s something every new student has to go through, but I can give you a hint: the ceremony is definitely much simpler than you’re imagining.”
Harry looked at him and replied:
“I won’t ask. But could you introduce the four houses to me? That is, if it’s not too much trouble—or perhaps you need to head off to join the people you know.”
Friends.
The person in front of him was a third-year student; he ought to have acquaintances of his own at Hogwarts.
Cedric shook his head.
“I don’t mind giving you an introduction at all. In fact, I’m doing this to prepare for running for prefect in the future…”
“Ahem!”
Before he could finish his sentence, a tall, red-haired boy casually walked past, let out a soft cough, and then put on a deliberate greeting: “Hey! Cedric.”
He puffed out his chest, where a badge was pinned prominently on his robes.
“Hey, Percy,” Cedric said, looking at him helplessly.
“Looks like you’re already putting your prefect duties into practice.”
“Percy Weasley, fifth year. He’s a Gryffindor prefect.”
“Oh! Harry Potter?”
Only then did Percy notice Harry standing beside them.
He extended a hand.
“Hello, Mr. Potter.”
Harry shook his hand.
“Hello, Prefect Weasley.”
“So polite! You’re much better behaved than my younger brothers,” Percy said with a smile.
“Perhaps you’ll become a Slytherin prefect yourself in the future. Unfortunately, we probably won’t have the chance to work together, since I’ll have already graduated by the time you become one.”
“Percy, I actually think Harry is more likely to be a Gryffindor,” Cedric chimed in.
“Before the Sorting, nothing is set in stone.”
“There’s no doubt about it, Cedric. Everyone thinks Harry will end up in Slytherin.”
“Well, alright, we’ll find out tonight.”
“Yes, we’ll know tonight. After all, he’s a Parselmouth—and you know what the Slytherin crest is.”
The two exchanged a few words.
Harry didn’t interrupt, quietly listening from the side to gather information.
After all, through wizarding newspapers, he could only read media reports; he had no way of knowing how wizards actually evaluated things in person.
Wizards seemed to hold a rigid stereotype about Slytherin—that it was a gathering place for dark wizards.
After a few brief words, they bade farewell to Percy, who went off to carry out his prefect duties.
Cedric said hesitantly, “Don’t mind that, Harry. The true outcome will only be revealed at the Sorting Ceremony. You won’t necessarily go to Slytherin. Besides, there are actually plenty of decent people in Slytherin too—like Gemma Farley, for instance. She’s this year’s female prefect, if I remember correctly.”
“I don’t mind,” Harry said, shaking his head.
“Let’s get back to our previous topic, Cedric—about the four houses. That is, if you still plan to practice your prefect duties in advance.”
Cedric chuckled and looked toward the first carriage.
Inside many of the compartments, young witches and wizards were leaning against the windows, saying goodbye to their families on the platform.
“First-year students usually gather in the first carriage. Would you prefer to stay here?” he suggested.
“It’ll help with your upcoming school life. Friendships are often formed inside these compartments. Of course, I can stay with you while we find a compartment and wait for the other new students.”
Harry looked at him.
“Or,” Cedric added, “I could take you to the carriages further back. Would you like me to introduce you to some of the upperclassmen?”
“Of course. I think the latter option is much more suitable—it will help me understand Hogwarts far more quickly,” Harry replied.
“The information other first-years possess probably isn’t much different from my own.”