Neville never did find his toad and returned to his compartment looking utterly dejected.
Hermione tried her best to comfort him along the way, but she was clearly terrible at consoling others, as Neville looked even more depressed after listening to her.
On their way back, they passed Harry Potter’s compartment and saw several people crowded together in a heated scuffle, led by a boy with pale blond hair.
“Stop fighting!” Filled with a strong sense of justice, Hermione rushed in almost without thinking.
However, neither side was particularly grateful, only viewing her as a busybody sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.
Soon, night began to fall.
The train drew closer to Hogwarts, and everyone changed into their Hogwarts robes.
“We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time.
Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be brought to the school for you,” a voice echoed through the train.
Hermione gripped her robes tightly with both hands, looking out the window from time to time, unsure whether she was more nervous or excited.
Finally, the train came to a halt.
Amidst the noisy chatter, the students filed off the train, immediately greeted by the biting chill of the night.
“It’s so cold,” chubby Neville muttered, pulling in his neck as he shivered.
“Is it?
I feel fine,” Hermione said, not feeling the cold at all, casting a skeptical glance at Neville.
Her look clearly said—all that weight you carry is apparently for nothing.
Daimon smiled but said nothing.
*You have a wisp of my fire energy within you; of course you wouldn’t feel cold.* From the sea of people, a giant of a man carrying a lantern walked over, shouting, “First years!
First years over here!
Harry, over here, how are you?” He was Hogwarts’ gamekeeper, as well as the crucial figure who had ushered Harry Potter into the wizarding world.
“Oh, my gosh!
He’s massive,” Neville gasped in awe.
Hermione also spotted him and said with certainty, “He must have giant blood.
I read about it in a book; some giants intermarry with wizards and produce half-giants.” Under Hagrid’s direction, the crowd on the platform split into two groups: the returning students who made their own way to Hogwarts, and the first years who followed behind Hagrid.
The path leading to Hogwarts was not easy to walk.
It was steep, narrow, dark, and slippery.
“Are we really going to a magic school?
This arrival process isn’t magical at all,” Daimon couldn’t help but complain.
He drew his wand and gave it a gentle flick.
“Lumos.” A bright source of light burst from his wand, floating above his head and illuminating the path around them.
“Excellent Lumos there,” Hagrid’s appreciative voice called out from ahead.
Hermione looked at Daimon in surprise.
“You never told me you also self-studied spells before school started!
Actually, I know this spell too, but it doesn’t work as well as yours.” She also took out her wand and chanted earnestly, “Lumos.” A small glob of light instantly appeared at the tip of her wand, but it was far inferior to Daimon’s.
At best, it was only bright enough to read a book under the blankets at night.
Hermione felt a bit defeated and rather anxious.
Daimon came from a Muggle background just like her, yet he had mastered Lumos so brilliantly before starting school.
What about the children from wizarding families then?
Wouldn’t they already know many more advanced spells?
As the saying goes, diligence makes up for a lack of talent.
It seemed she would have to work even harder and study with more dedication.
“It’s a decent Lumos, but your magic output isn’t stable enough yet.
Just practice more,” Daimon pointed out the issue at a glance.
Extinguishing the light from her wand, Hermione cheered up again.
“Thank you for the advice!
Don’t worry, once school starts, I’ll definitely catch up to you.
It would be even better if we got sorted into the same house.” “There’s a chance,” Daimon said mildly.
“Hey, Neville, is that your toad?” a young wizard shouted while they were talking.
“Oh my goodness!
Thank you!
And thank you too, Daimon,” Neville said in delight, bending down to scoop up the toad from the ground.
It turned out the little toad had been tagging along with the crowd of students all along.
Because it was dark and slippery, no one had noticed, but under Daimon’s Lumos, it had nowhere to hide.
Emerging from the narrow path, the young wizards found their vision opening up to a vast, dark lake.
High on a cliff on the other side of the lake stood a majestic and spectacular castle, its towers pointing into a starry sky beneath a high-hanging moon.
It was a breathtaking sight.
“No more than four to a boat,” Hagrid called out, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting by the shore.
The boats looked incredibly ordinary, even somewhat dilapidated.
Hermione now thoroughly agreed with Daimon’s words.
“You’re right.
Our arrival process isn’t wizard-like at all—in fact, it’s practically prehistoric.” Even in Muggle schools in London, students wouldn’t be made to take boats to school on a freezing cold night.
Despite the complaints, everyone quietly boarded the boats and eventually arrived before the castle of Hogwarts.
Hagrid raised a fist the size of a giant boulder and knocked three times on the castle’s oak front door.
The door swung open at once, and out stepped a tall, black-haired witch wearing emerald-green robes.
Daimon sensed a powerful magic radiating from this witch.
Clearly, her magical prowess was exceptionally deep.
“The first years, Professor McGonagall,” Hagrid announced, handing them over.
Hagrid completed the handover here.
Next, Professor McGonagall would lead the first years through the rest of the arrival process.
She guided them into a small, empty chamber off the Great Hall.
“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall.
“The Start-of-Term Feast will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses.
This is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts.” “The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin…” Professor McGonagall solemnly explained the school’s overview to the new students.
Many of them began to look nervous, Hermione included.
Truth be told, Hermione had read several books about Hogwarts before school started, yet not a single one mentioned how the Sorting was conducted.
This made her even more anxious, and she kept under her breath muttering the spells she had self-studied.
Meanwhile, Ron whispered nervously to Harry, “Fred said we have to go through some kind of test.
He said it hurts a lot, but I hope he was joking.” Harry gave a slight shudder.
“I heard about that too.
Apparently, we have to fight a troll.” The young wizards standing near them also turned quite pale.
Hearing this, Hermione couldn’t hold it together any longer.
She whispered to Daimon, “We’re not really going to have to fight a troll, are we?” “Only if Hogwarts is a school that teaches the undead,” Daimon said offhandedly.
“W-what do you mean?” Hermione’s mind stalled for a second.
“Even an adult wizard might not be able to handle a troll.
Do you honestly think the school staff would want us to go to our deaths?” Daimon said, exasperated.
When the first years finally entered the magnificent Great Hall, Daimon looked around.
The students of the four houses sat clearly separated at four long tables, beneath thousands of candles floating mid-air above them.
At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers sat.
Albus Dumbledore, whom Daimon hadn’t seen in a while, sat right in the center.
The ghosts of Hogwarts also glided back and forth in the air above the hall.
Soon, the Sorting Ceremony officially began.
It didn’t require any complex test or fighting a troll.
All they needed to do was put on a patched, frayed, dirty pointed wizard’s hat—except this hat had a mind of its own and could speak.
“You may not think I’m pretty…
…
I’ll eat myself…
…
There’s nothing hidden in your head The Sorting Hat can’t see, So try me on…
…
Those cunning folk use any means…
…
For I’m a thinking cap!” Daimon heard the Sorting Hat sing.
A hat capable of reading other people’s minds was indeed a wicked dark magic creation.
“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” said Professor McGonagall, holding a long roll of parchment.
“Hannah Abbott!” A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line and put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes.
She had barely sat down when the hat shouted: “HUFFLEPUFF!”