After class finally ended, Jerail briefly told Jack and rushed back to the dorm, pulling out parchment and pen.
[Grandpa Cora,
I have successfully enrolled and, like Father, was sorted into Ravenclaw House.
I’m very happy.
My housemates are very kind to me, and I’ve even made friends in Hufflepuff and Gryffindor.
These past two days, I was so busy getting familiar with the environment that I forgot to write.
Please forgive me, Grandpa Cora.
The classes aren’t difficult, and I can keep up with everything.
The Potions professor thought I performed well and awarded me points.
The library has so many books; I really want to read them all.
I am very much looking forward to the next seven years of study.
Take care of your health, Grandpa Cora, and I will come back to see you during the holidays.
Your loving, Jerail.]
After writing the letter, Jerail rushed to the Owlery, searching for his owl, Fury, on the vast vaulted rafters.
“Fury?
Fury?” Unable to spot him with the naked eye, Jerail called out quietly.
A crisp, clear hoot echoed, and Fury glided down from the roof.
A few other owls shuffled sideways to make room for Fury.
“Little guy, looks like you’re popular with the owls.
Are those your new friends?” Jerail reached out to stroke Fury’s feathers, asking in a gentle tone.
“Chirp!” Fury pecked Jerail lightly as if half-shy, half-annoyed.
Jerail quickly apologized:
“Alright, alright, I won’t call you little guy.
How about ‘Young Master’ from now on, Young Master?”
Fury tilted his head, processing Jerail’s words, and instantly grew delighted, chirping nonstop.
“Here, Young Master, this is a letter for Grandpa Cora.
Thanks for making the trip.
Wait until Grandpa Cora writes back before flying back—make sure you wait for a reply, okay?” Jerail instructed.
Fury raised his head and hooted sharply in agreement, leaned down to eat the dried meat Jerail had brought, and only after filling his stomach did he nuzzle Jerail, spread his wings, and take off through the high window opening.
Just as he reached the exit of the Owlery, Jerail nearly bumped into someone.
Looking closely, it was Bill.
Coming to the Owlery at this hour—did you forget to write home yesterday?” Bill teased him like an experienced upperclassman.
Jerail felt a bit embarrassed.
Looking down, he noticed Bill holding a thick letter as well, and immediately raised his eyebrows back at him.
“Ahem,” it was Bill’s turn to blush.
He coughed lightly and explained,
“I have five younger brothers and a sister.
Except for the youngest two who can barely speak yet, the other four are extremely boisterous.
I’ve only been away from home for a day, and they were already running around the house looking for me.
Charlie threw a tantrum and refused to eat, Percy tore out every single page of *How to Be a Good Older Brother* and pasted them all over my room, and Fred and George were running everywhere inside, shouting my name at every spot to ‘keep my presence alive’ in case Mum and Dad forgot about me.
Mum was so furious she gave everyone a thrashing, and Dad sent me an urgent letter asking for help…
Sigh.”
Seeing the helpless yet happy expression on Bill’s face, Jerail knew he was enjoying every bit of it and couldn’t help laughing.
The flush on Bill’s face deepened considerably.
“Jerail, Charlie starts school next year.
I’ll introduce you to him, and my other brothers and sister too.
Remember to think in advance about what meeting gifts to prepare, or I won’t let you off!” Bill left a “threat” and ran off to find an owl with a reddened face.
“I will, Bill!
I’d love to meet your brothers and sister!” Jerail shouted back, leaving with a smile.
Walking down the tower where the Owlery was located, Jerail was turning to return to the common room when he heard rapid footsteps behind him.
Turning around, he saw Bill running down in a hurry, letting out a sigh of relief upon seeing him.
“The first Quidditch match after Halloween is Gryffindor versus Slytherin.
I’m joining the Quidditch team this year—will you come watch the match?” Bill asked sincerely.
“Of course.
We’re friends, so naturally I’ll be there to cheer you on,” Jerail replied without hesitation.
He was very interested in Quidditch, and with Bill playing, he would certainly go watch.
Bill flashed a bright smile.
On his young face, one could already glimpse the handsome and dashing youth he would grow into.
He waved goodbye to Jerail and ran off toward Gryffindor Tower.
After finishing his homework in the library with his housemates, Jerail couldn’t help feeling impressed.
He had thought he’d see a scene where he finished his homework while others hadn’t, tearfully asking Jerail for help.
In reality, after yesterday’s fluster, most Ravenclaw first-years had already adapted with the help of the upperclassmen, writing so fast in the library that their quills almost flew.
After informing Prefect Sinclair, Jerail packed his things and left.
Passing by the pitiful Hufflepuff first-years who had hardly written a few words and were looking eagerly at him, Jerail steeled himself and didn’t stop.
There was nothing he could do; he had Potions detention at seven, so he needed to eat dinner quickly now.
Speaking of which, Jerail had to praise Ravenclaw again.
For the first month of first year, Prefect Sinclair and Prefect Brown took turns looking after the new students—waking them up in the morning, escorting them to and from class, and taking them to meals, taking attendance before moving out to ensure no young wizard was left behind.
This included going to the library after class to do homework, which was why Jerail had to report before leaving.
He had no trouble adapting to this.
Reporting in was completely normal in China—as long as you weren’t doing anything bad, reporting was good for both yourself and others.
After dinner, on his way down to the dungeons, Jerail reached the basement first floor and saw four Slytherin wizards.
Judging by their age, they seemed to be third- or fourth-year students.
The Slytherin dorms were in the dungeon, so meeting them here was normal; Jerail didn’t pay it much mind.
However, as he walked, Jerail realized something was off.
The four upperclassmen were gradually surrounding him.
Jerail tried to walk around, but one of them arrogantly blocked his way, saying:
“Mr.
Print, I know a very quiet place.
I have a few words I’d like to say to you.”
Jerail was used to this—wasn’t this just like the Hyuga branch family trying to bully him in his past life?
He had seen it plenty of times.
He wasn’t someone who backed down from trouble.
With that thought, displaying a hint of timidness on his face, he was “forced” to follow the Slytherin upperclassmen into a side corridor.
Noticing that aside from candles and torches, there wasn’t a single portrait on either side of the corridor, Jerail couldn’t help admiring Slytherin’s cleverness.
It also gave him even more confidence for what he was about to do.
“Jerail Print.
A half-blood, a family of nobodies, raised in the Muggle world since childhood.
Tsk, tsk, tsk.” As soon as they stopped, the leader couldn’t wait to step forward and mock Jerail.
“Yes, that’s me.
And I’m also the one who earned extra points from Professor Snape, Professor Pawazina, Professor Flitwick, and Professor McGonagall—and the one who got Slytherins docked points and put in detention right after term started.” Jerail replied calmly, knowing exactly how to twist the knife.
Sure enough, at those words, all four faces opposite Jerail twisted in rage, anger surging up.