“I… I’m Neville.” The round-faced boy climbed carefully into David’s boat under his gaze.
“Neville Longbottom.” The girl with thick brown hair climbed in after him and gave Neville an encouraging pat on the back.
The last boy boarded a moment later.
At Hagrid’s call, the boats began gliding across the lake.
The brown-haired girl leaned towards Neville and whispered something.
David rested against the bow.
Strangely, he wasn’t looking at the magnificent castle ahead.
He was studying Neville.
The longer David stared, the more nervous Neville became.
The boy slowly edged away from him.
Closer.
Closer.
Towards the side of the boat.
David finally spoke.
“If you move any farther, you’re going to fall in.” Neville froze.
David pointed towards the black water.
“And then the piranhas will eat you.” Neville immediately shuffled back.
The little boat rocked dangerously beneath them.
“Don’t listen to him.” The brown-haired girl frowned.
“There aren’t any piranhas in the lake.” She lifted her chin.
“There are merpeople.
And a giant squid.” She looked directly at David.
“I read it in Hogwarts: A History.” Her expression became triumphant.
“You can’t fool me.” David gave a quiet laugh.
Then he turned his attention fully towards her.
He stared for several seconds.
The girl stared right back.
Finally David said, “You’re not very cute.” “Thank you.” She answered instantly.
“Neither are you.” Silence.
The two of them glared at each other for several long seconds.
Then both turned away at exactly the same time.
Neither seemed interested in seeing the other’s face again.
Under Hagrid’s guidance, the first-years finally crossed the lake and entered the castle.
For some of them, the journey had apparently felt like surviving an ordeal.
Inside, a tall black-haired witch in emerald-green robes greeted them.
Professor McGonagall.
She gave the students a brief explanation of Hogwarts and its four— David almost thought gangs.
No.
Four Houses.
She explained that their performance could earn or lose points for their Houses, and that the House with the highest total at the end of the year would receive the House Cup.
Then she called David’s name.
“Mr Rowle.” David looked up.
“You’ll be coming with me shortly.” “There will be a brief assessment before your Sorting.” With that, McGonagall turned towards the other students.
“Remain quiet while you wait for the Sorting Ceremony.” David followed her towards the door.
Behind him, whispers immediately erupted.
“Who is he?” “You don’t know?” Someone answered loudly.
“He’s that fallen young master from the Rowle fam—” David looked back.
Draco Malfoy.
Of course.
David narrowed his eyes.
Excellent.
Eight beatings a day.
He hadn’t forgotten.
“This way.” Professor McGonagall didn’t take him far.
She stopped outside what looked like a private sitting room belonging to the staff.
David gave her a polite nod before stepping inside.
“The boy is here.” McGonagall entered behind him.
Three people were already waiting.
She introduced him.
“David Rowle.” Then she looked him over carefully.
“Third year?” “Yes, Professor.” David nodded.
His gaze passed over the three people inside.
Hogwarts professors were… interesting.
One was an elderly wizard with a long white beard and half-moon spectacles.
Beside him stood a thin man dressed almost entirely in black.
The third looked considerably less like a professor than the others.
The white-bearded wizard nodded slowly.
“So this is James’s grandson.” There was a faintly amused note in his voice as he studied David through his half-moon spectacles.
“Aberforth recommended him to me.” He smiled.
“And insisted that I admit him.” David’s expression barely changed.
So that was what the visit to the Hog’s Head had been about.
McGonagall seemed to remember something.
“Oh.
My apologies.” She gestured towards the elderly wizard.
“This is Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts.” Then towards the man in black.
“Professor Severus Snape, Head of House.” “And Mr Argus Filch, our caretaker.” Finally she indicated herself.
“And I’m Minerva McGonagall.” “Professor of Transfiguration and Deputy Headmistress.” David smiled confidently.
“A pleasure to meet you, Deputy Headmistress.” “We’ve corresponded.” He inclined his head.
“Thank you for sending my admission letter.” “You’re welcome, Mr Rowle.” McGonagall nodded.
Then she glanced towards Dumbledore.
“I’ll begin, if you don’t mind.” “I still need to prepare for the Sorting Ceremony.” Dumbledore gave his permission.
McGonagall turned back to David.
“So.” Her tone became formal.
“You completed the entirety of your first- and second-year coursework at Beauxbatons and Durmstrang?” “Yes, Professor.” David drew his wand.
He had assumed there would be a practical examination.
McGonagall’s eyes flicked towards the wand.
Then back to him.
“You enjoy Transfiguration?” “Very much.” David smiled.
“I’ve heard quite a bit about you.” He understood why she had noticed the wand.
Pear wood.
Thunderbird tail feather core.
“My grandfather told me you’re an exceptional Transfiguration master.” David continued politely, “He said I should learn as much from you as I can.” Apparently his wand was helping create a good first impression.
Unexpected.
But welcome.
“You flatter me, Mr Rowle.” McGonagall’s posture became just slightly straighter.
Her eyes moved to a quill resting on the desk.
“Very well.” “Turn that quill into a teacup.” She paused.
“The more refined the result, the better.” David didn’t hesitate.
He flicked his wand.
“Vera Verto.” The quill rapidly reshaped itself.
Within moments, an elegant English breakfast teacup sat on the desk.
A single white feather decorated its side.
McGonagall’s eyebrows rose.
She was about to speak when David moved his wand again.
The cup changed.
This time it became a tall French afternoon-tea cup, decorated with delicate floral vines.
The feather motif transformed into blooming jasmine flowers.
David lowered his wand.
“Forgive me, Professor.” He smiled.
“I thought jasmine suited you better.” “Cough.” McGonagall examined him for several seconds.
Then, with remarkable dignity, she turned towards Dumbledore.
“I have no further questions, Headmaster.” Snape moved.
“Then I’ll ask him.” He adjusted the sleeves of his black robes and stepped in front of David.
His dark eyes narrowed.
“What ingredients are used in a Confusing Concoction?” David answered without hesitation.
“Scurvy-grass, lovage, and sneezewort.” “And its effect is to make the drinker reckless and confused.” He paused.
“But that isn’t first- or second-year material, Professor.” Snape’s expression remained cold.
“I’m the one asking the questions.” “You may choose not to answer.” Then he immediately continued.
“If someone spills a Swelling Solution while brewing, what should be done?” “A Deflating Draught should be used, Professor.” David answered just as quickly.
Then added, “And while they’re brewing, you should remind them to do more and talk less.” A sharp sound escaped McGonagall.
She turned away immediately.
Her shoulders moved once.
Snape’s face went rigid.
“I find that you talk rather a lot—” “That will do.” Dumbledore interrupted before Snape could continue.
His eyes, however, weren’t on Snape.
They were on McGonagall.
“Minerva.” “If you don’t leave soon, the Sorting Ceremony won’t begin on time.” His eyes twinkled.
“And the children will go hungry.” McGonagall recovered her composure.
“Yes, Headmaster.” “I’ll go now.” She turned towards the door.
As she passed David, she gave him one brief, approving look.
Then she left.
David watched the door close.
Apparently his academic assessment wasn’t over yet.
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