“This is Cho Chang, second year, Ravenclaw.”
Cedric led Harry further inside, passing a compartment where an Asian girl sat within—likely waiting for someone.
She leaned forward slightly from her seat, offering Harry a gentle, warm smile.
They continued onward, where two people stood talking in the corridor.
One was a heavily built fellow who merely spared a passing glance at Harry and Cedric.
“Marcus Flint, sixth year, and Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team,” Cedric introduced softly.
“And beside him is Terence Higgs, the Slytherin Seeker.”
This boy likewise cast an arrogant, offhanded glance at Harry and Cedric as they walked by.
Right then.
Harry was beginning to understand why Slytherin was so ostracized by the other houses.
Cedric was clearly accustomed to it, leading him forward without paying it any mind.
“Oh! Now this one needs a grand introduction—Malcolm Preece, our Hufflepuff Chaser!”
Stepping up to a boy, Cedric raised his voice a notch, trading high-fives with him while making the introduction.
Cedric brought Harry along to wander through the back carriages, exchanging greetings as they went.
He seemed immensely popular at school, acquainted with quite a few students across all four houses.
Even some of the Slytherin girls treated him with great warmth.
Of course, that warmth was strictly limited to the girls.
The Slytherin boys harbored little goodwill toward him.
“They used to place a much higher premium on blood status. After all, You-Know-Who came from Slytherin. Word has it that back when You-Know-Who was at his most rampant, Slytherin students would casually bully half-bloods or Muggle-borns right here in school,” Cedric said as he found an empty compartment and sat down with Harry.
“But ever since you defeated You-Know-Who, things have gotten much better. Though Slytherin still has pure-blood student cliques, they don’t dare bring it out into the open anymore.”
Harry nodded.
Blood status—this wasn’t the first time he had heard of it.
In the second-hand textbooks he had bought earlier, quite a few former owners had argued over it in the margins, and certain wizarding newspapers frequently featured members of ancient wizarding families holding forth on the superiority of pure blood.
However, he was no longer the half-ignorant Muggle he had been a month ago.
Through a month of reading and observing, Harry had determined from the conflicting arguments in various textbooks that the “pure-blood theory” did possess a modicum of basis in fact.
Maintaining pure blood might indeed grant certain wizards talents that others lacked.
Yet equally, close-line breeding could lead to the emergence of fools and deformities.
Furthermore, pure blood provided nothing more than a head start.
Influenced by theories of inherent superiority, many pure-blood wizards failed to exert enough effort to realize their potential, leaving them inferior to many Muggle-borns.
Among young Muggle-born wizards, those who were more precocious harbored a craving for magical knowledge that far outstripped children raised in wizarding households from birth. Read this novel at novelping(.)com for the best experience.
Take Harry, for instance.
“No, Sorting doesn’t affect your classes. Every student at Hogwarts takes the exact same core subjects. Going to Hufflepuff or Gryffindor won’t mean you get an extra class tacked on.”
“Well, there are still subtle differences. For instance, Slytherin’s Head of House is Professor Snape, who teaches Potions, so he shows more favor to Slytherin students during Potions class. Our Head of House in Hufflepuff is Ms. Pomona Sprout, who teaches Herbology, so she’s much more lenient with us during Herbology lessons. Except for Gryffindor—Professor McGonagall is an exceptionally strict and fair Transfiguration Professor who never shows bias toward Gryffindor students in her class.”
“Harry, I think I might’ve misjudged you earlier. You won’t be going to Gryffindor; you belong in Ravenclaw. You have such a deep craving for knowledge…”
Along the way, Harry peppered Cedric with questions on all sorts of topics—from the rivalry and friction between Slytherin and Gryffindor, to the selection of prefects and the Head Boy and Girl, and naturally, the seven core subjects along with the five electives available from third year onward.
Midway through, a trolley witch came by selling sweets.
Cedric had intended to buy some, but Harry had no interest in sweets, preferring solid food instead.
His luggage held roasted lamb legs, potatoes, pizza, and the like, prepared for him that morning by Bobo.
Clearly, this was the superior option; together, they left the compartment to retrieve the food.
While gnawing on a lamb leg, Cedric happened to mention that the Hufflepuff dorms were located right next to the kitchens.
Whenever one felt hungry, regardless of the hour, one could pop over to the kitchens and ask the house-elves for food.
Meanwhile, as night fell, the express train finally arrived at Hogwarts.
“First-years! First-years over here!”
The platform was rather chilly.
The wind swept directly off the lake, carrying the brackish scent of waterweed.
Hagrid stood at the edge of the platform, his colossal figure standing out distinctly amidst the crowd.
Holding an oil lamp aloft, his gaze swept past the other students until he spotted them.
“Harry! Over here! How’re ya doin’?”
“You should be going now. First-years have to cross by boat—it’s part of the tradition,” Cedric reminded him from the side.
“If you ever run into trouble at school, feel free to come find me in Hufflepuff. Though you’ll have to ask someone at the entrance to pass a message to me; the way into our common room is quite unique, and you wouldn’t want to find out what happens if you try to break in.”
“Thank you for answering my questions all the way here, Cedric,” Harry said with heartfelt gratitude.
This upperclassman was astonishingly friendly.
Had they been aboard a ship, Harry might well have recruited him on the spot, offering him the position of First Mate without a second thought.
Bidding farewell to Cedric, he pushed his way through the surging crowd toward Hagrid.
As they moved away from the upperclassmen, the crowd thinned considerably, leaving only a gathering of shorter, smaller wizards trailing behind Hagrid’s heels.
A cold wind blew as they made their way down a steep, narrow path. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
Darkness cloaked both sides of the trail, and the bustling chatter from moments before died away.
Harry followed at a measured pace.
Though he could feel the nearby first-years constantly sneaking glances at him, none seemed inclined to approach—
“Harry Potter.”
The arrogant, blonde-haired boy he had seen earlier on the platform hurried up to his side, his chin tilted slightly upward, his expression tinged with impatience.
“So you were in the upperclassmen’s carriage all along! No wonder I couldn’t find you.”
Flanking him on either side were two heavily built boys who followed close behind.
“Hello,” Harry replied politely.
“This is Crabbe, and this is Goyle,” the boy introduced the pair beside him offhandedly before clearing his throat and declaring solemnly, “My name is Malfoy—Draco Lucius Malfoy.”
He extended his hand.
Harry shook it.
“Harry James Potter. Hello, Mr. Malfoy.”
Upon hearing this formal address, the young boy looked thoroughly delighted, making no attempt to hide his satisfaction.
“…Hello, Mr. Potter,” Draco copied his tone.
“You must be aware of the Malfoy family—one of the great Sacred Twenty-Eight. We possess a truly ancient lineage. We believe that Muggle-born wizards who haven’t received an education like ours from a young age and know nothing of our world shouldn’t even be eligible for admission…”
He proudly recounted his family history, making no secret of his ardent support for the “pure-blood theory.”
Yet listening to his endless chatter, Harry suddenly lost any desire to engage further.
Draco prattled on continuously the entire way, completely oblivious to the fact that the other young wizards were falling quiet and casting hostile glances in his direction.
This is just a remarkably stupid Dudley.
At the end of the narrow path, a vast, ink-black lake opened up before them.
Perched atop a towering cliff on the opposite shore stood a majestic castle.
“No more ‘n four to a boat!” Hagrid called out loudly, pointing to a fleet of small boats moored at the water’s edge.
Harry stepped forward and boarded one of the boats.
Dudley—no, Draco—and his two henchmen clambered onto the boat right after him.
As the fleet of small boats glided across the mirror-smooth surface of the lake, Harry found himself genuinely unable to stomach Draco’s endless rambling any longer.
He spoke up in a low voice:
“Mr. Malfoy, we seem to have reached the school grounds now. Perhaps you could demonstrate the sort of refinement expected of a pure-blood wizarding family—for instance, by casting a Lumos charm to provide us with some light?”
He turned around, gesturing toward the pitch-black expanse of the lake.