Hogwarts: Gaunt's Counterattack
Chapter 1
The morning light filtered through the blinds, casting long, slender shadows on the living room floor of 101 South Kensington Garden Street.
Elwin Gaunt stood in the silent room, his fingertips pinching the letter that had just been delivered by an unexpected guest.
The envelope was made of aged parchment, its edges slightly curled.
He ran his thumb over the raised wax seal on the flap—a complex crest where four distinct creatures were intertwined, forming a silent and majestic circle.
A few grayish-brown feathers still remained in the living room, along with a small, unavoidable souvenir on the windowsill that belonged to a bird with a bad temper.
His gaze fell upon the neat handwriting of the recipient's address: "In your solemn living room".
The phrasing caused the corner of his mouth to quirk in an almost imperceptible arc.
Outside the window, the July air in London was fresh and cool, the streets of the affluent district were neat and peaceful, and behind the neatly trimmed hedges lay the residences of neighbors who had not yet fully awakened.
Everything was seamlessly consistent with the world he had known for the past eleven years.
Until this Owl crashed into the glass.
Elwin unfolded the letter.
The paper was thick, carrying a strange, botanical scent.
The text was written in dark green ink, with the curves of the letters elegant and ancient.
He did not read the content immediately, instead letting his gaze sweep over the same crest at the top of the page as the wax seal, with a line of slightly smaller text underneath: Hogwarts School of magic.
Silence spread through the spacious living room.
In the distance, the faint sound of a milk float passing by could be heard; these were the ordinary sounds that belonged to Garden Street, to Kensington, and to Londonin 1991.
Yet the letter in his hand was like a pebble thrown into a calm pool, disturbing another dimension that had been sleeping beneath the surface.
He remembered the almost accusatory glance the Scotland round-faced fat chicken—or rather, the Owl—had cast before leaving, as if blaming him for not preparing any snacks as payment.
The bird droppings looked particularly obtrusive on the clean mahogany windowsill; it was a rude and direct greeting from another world.
Elwin slowly sat down in the armchair.
The leather cushion gave a slight sigh.
His gaze fell back to the letter, and this time, he began to truly read the sentences.
Every word was like a key, slowly turning a lock to a door he had never known existed.
Outside the window, London continued its orderly morning.
And in the solemn living room of villa 101, a boy holding a letter from the School of magic felt the familiar world beneath his feet quietly cracking, with incredible light shining through the gaps.
Elwin's thoughts were a tangled mess.
He had originally thought this was just another ordinary cycle of life, quietly being born on the streets of London in the early eighties, but he had never imagined that behind the curtain lay the secrets of spells and Wizard.
The spires of Hogwarts Castle, Hermione's fluffy curls, Luna's dreamy eyes, Fleur's silvery long hair... countless images surged in his mind.
He shook his head abruptly, dispelling these distracting thoughts.
What truly stirred his heart at this moment was not those familiar names, but the magic power hidden beneath the surface of this world, flowing in the air.
As a transmigrator, Elwin's previous life had been annihilated in endless overtime and exhaustion.
When he opened his eyes again, he was an infant in swaddling clothes, lying on a small bed in a Londonorphanage.
His background was lonely, as if it were a predetermined opening in a story.
He had once silently waited for the system's prompt to sound in his mind, or for the awakening of some extraordinary talent, hoping to stir up trouble with it.
However, eleven years slipped by quietly, and those fantasies were ultimately just bubbles.
Although he did not wait for the so-called golden finger, rebirth seemed to have endowed him with mental strength superior to that of ordinary people.
His memories were like polished glaze, incredibly clear; he could occasionally perceive certain indescribable fluctuations.
Relying on these, along with the financial fragments he remembered from his previous life, he had actually built the foundation of his wealth at a young age—a small investment company operated on his behalf by the orphanage director.
After donating a sum of money to the orphanage every year, a considerable figure could still settle in his account.
Two years ago, he bought this house by the street and began living alone.
He had originally planned a peaceful future: wait for the economic turmoil in a few years to reap another wave, then bet on the digital currency wave that would come sooner or later, and safely become a wealthy man.
But the "visitor" from the magic world had crashed into his life unexpectedly.
At this moment, anticipation and anxiety intertwined like two undercurrents in his chest.
In his previous life, he was not a fanatic reader obsessed with that Wizard legend, but he had watched the entire film series.
Although time had eroded many details, the general outline of the main plot was still imprinted in his memory.
This was not a peaceful era.
The calendar had turned to 1991.
If he hadn't miscalculated, he should be entering the threshold of the School of magic in the same year as that the savior boy.
From the first grade to the fourth grade, as long as he followed the rules and stayed away from the center of the waves involving that old Principal and the Golden Trio, he might still be able to enjoy a few years of peaceful campus time.
After all, the various crises that child had encountered in the previous few years mostly stemmed from his own curiosity and the pushing and pulling of certain big figures.
But what about after the fifth grade? When that woman, like a pink toad, stepped into the Castle, everything would change for the worse.
By the sixth and seventh grade, the school might not even be safe anymore—by then, Hogwarts might have long since fallen into territory shrouded by the shadow of the Dark Lord.
When his fingertips touched the edge of the parchment, Elwin realized he had been holding his breath.
The sound of rain outside the window suddenly became distant, and something that had been silent for many years was awakening in his chest—it was a longing that had grown in the darkness of a cinema in another world, the nights of seeing sparks blooming from the tip of a wandacross the screen.
The moment the letter was unfolded, the ink seemed to be flowing:
"Hogwarts School of magic"
"Principal: Albus Dumbledore"
The titles were arranged downwards like inscriptions on ancient gold coins.
His gaze paused for a moment when it swept over the line "due to family environment reasons", followed by Professor McGonagall's neat signature.
A faint scent similar to old books and dried bay leaves drifted between the pages.
Just at the moment the last word caught his eye—
A certain subtle cracking sound rang out deep in his skull.
It was not a sound, but more like the tremor of an ice surface beginning to crack.
Immediately after, pale golden light patterns emerged at the edge of his vision, intertwining into a constantly rotating ring, ancient like an astrological chart, precise like a clockwork mechanism.
[Calibrating world frequency...]
The characters were directly branded into his consciousness.
[Calibration complete. Law adaptation complete.]
[magic Card Draw System, activated.]
Elwin's fingertips tightened unconsciously, causing the edges of the parchment to wrinkle.
It was here.
The visitor, eleven years late, had knocked on the door at the moment he finally touched the true outline of this world.
There was no explanation from a guiding spirit, no unfolding of a task list, only a statement, concise to the point of being almost cold, suspended in the void of his thoughts: This system only provides an interactive interface, has no self-awareness, and has no mandatory mechanisms.
He suddenly smiled, the corner of his mouth pulling into an arc between sarcasm and relief.
So these years were not forgotten, but the timing was not right.
Like a key hidden in the Chamber of Secrets, it had to wait until the right keyhole appeared.
"Show the terms of the agreement."
He muttered in his heart, using the familiar tone he had practiced when browsing user agreements in his previous life, "Including the compensation plan for delayed binding, and the beginner's initial resource pack."
The air was silent for three seconds.
Perhaps the system also needed time to understand this direct way of negotiating.
Then, the pale golden light patterns flowed again, weaving into a translucent panel, with ancient runes and modern numbers flickering alternately.
Outside the window, the rain at the end of July was still falling.
But something was already different—as if a brand new, waiting-to-be-plucked string had been mixed into the background sound of the world.
A clear prompt sound rang in his mind, as if having traveled through a long silence: "System dormancy has reached eleven years, accumulated energy is shared equally with the host. Five thousand Gold Coins have been deposited into your account."
Immediately following, another voice seamlessly connected: "Beginner's gift pack is ready, do you want to open it immediately?"
"Open."
"Gift pack opening... Congratulations on obtaining one 'Bloodline Tracing' opportunity. Detected latent factor in the host—'Witch Spirit Bloodline' has been activated."
In an instant, a burning force erupted from deep within Elwin's body, like magma from the earth's core breaking through the crust, surging fiercely.
But this violent torrent came swiftly and subsided just as abruptly; in just a few breaths, it turned into a docile warmth, sinking into his limbs and bones.
He focused his mind inward, carefully perceiving the changes.
Previously, that strange energy he had mistaken for "superpowers"—now he knew it should be magic—could only be vaguely sensed as faint traces of flow.
At this moment, it had gathered into a clear, continuous stream, flowing through his meridians; not only had the total amount increased significantly, but it was also far more handy to control than before.
A feeling of satisfaction flashed through his heart.
No matter which world it was in, the innate advantages brought by bloodline inheritance were crucial and could not be underestimated.
The protagonists in those legendary stories often possessed special physiques or ancient bloodlines, and this was not without reason.
Now that the Witch Spirit Bloodline had awakened, it undoubtedly paved a shortcut for him, allowing him to more quickly obtain the capital to establish himself in a strange environment fraught with crises.
"System, what is the specific use of Gold Coins?"
He thought of that "compensation" and couldn't help but secretly complain.
This system actually knew "everyone gets a share", directly deducting half of the accumulated energy.
However, considering that generous beginner's gift pack, he decided not to pursue it for the time being.
The system's response to this was rigid and direct: "Gold Coins are the only universal currency of this system. Based on the general consideration of the 'alone and empty-handed' status of most transmigrators, the recharge channel has been permanently closed. All Gold Coins must be obtained through internal system channels."
"Then I really have to thank you for your consideration."
Elwin twitched the corner of his mouth, and an indescribable sense of absurdity welled up in his heart.
The system had arrived, the initial capital was in place, it should have been a double joy, why did it feel so subtle at this moment?
"Forget it," he sighed lightly, "It seems that the pleasure of crushing others with wealth is something I won't be able to experience."
Although somewhat helpless, he could only accept this setting.
Turning his attention back to the system interface, after some exploration, he found that the core function was simple and clear: a card summoning system that used Gold Coins as keys.
Each summon required consuming one hundred Gold Coins.
Cards were divided into four tiers based on rarity: White, Blue, Purple, Gold.
The lowest-tier White cards could yield introductory-level spell books for Wizard, basic magic materials, or the currency of this world—Galleons.
And Blue-tier cards had significantly higher value.
Among them, it would be possible to include more practical spells, whether for offense or building defense.
Purple cards recorded those rare and difficult spells.
Such as Mental Barrier, Spirit of Protection, Shadowless Gale, and also included overall insights into certain magicfields, such as the mysteries of Potion brewing and transfiguration.
Gold cards were engraved with the marks of legendary figures.
Whenever a Gold card was drawn, one could choose a piece of knowledge, a spell, or even a unique talent of a character and make it their own.
The ways to obtain Gold Coins were not complicated.
When reaching certain important achievements, one could receive rewards of Gold Coins or entire packs of cards.
After Elwin officially stepped into the school, the daily mission system would be activated.
Completing those trivial but necessary daily tasks would provide a stable reward of one hundred Gold Coins.
Every day, he would also get one chance to draw a card.
This gifted opportunity could not reach the realm of Gold cards; at most, one could encounter treasures shining with purple light.
"System, can you display my personal profile?"
"Generating exclusive panel for the host... please wait."
Name: Elwin Gaunt
Age: Eleven years old
Birthday: The last day of October (If calculated by year and month, he is actually nearly twelve, but because he was born after September, he is in the same grade as Harry, so it is recorded as eleven.)
Identity: The hidden master of Elwin Investment Company, a fledgling that has just left the nest of Garden Primary School, a new student about to set off for Hogwarts.
Chapter 2
Bloodline: Breath of the Witch Spirit (Awakening from slumber, gradually becoming complete as power grows)
magic Measurement: Three Degrees
Magical Items: None
Spellcasting Talent: Five Stars (Outstanding)
Transfiguration Talent: Three Stars (Ordinary)
Divination Aptitude: Zero (Like a Troll)
...
Dark Arts Affinity: Rank 8 (Born for Prison)
Gold Coin Reserves: Five Thousand
Elwin was stunned, his gaze frozen on that line of text.
The Rank 8 Dark Arts affinity was as eye-catching as a brand.
He suddenly felt that perhaps he shouldn't embark on the journey to Hogwarts.
If he put that Sorting Hat on his head, he feared it would hiss out the name "Azkaban"—
—at that time, wouldn't he become the first freshman in history to be sent directly to prison during the Sorting Ceremony?
"The host need not worry.
Aside from the system, no one can peer into the depth of your talent through numerical values."
"...That's good then."
Elwin slowly exhaled, the weight in his chest finally lifting.
At least, he no longer had to worry about immediately falling into that sea prison.
Elwin scrutinized the numbers displayed on the interface, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing against each other.
Having lived another life, he hadn't touched any decent entertainment yet, let alone that heart-pounding gacha experience.
"I've accumulated luck for so long; it's time to see the results."
He clicked on that shining entrance.
A light screen suddenly unfolded, revealing several lines of flowing text:
"Star tracks intersect, destiny illuminates.
To celebrate the destiny connection, the 'Legendary Twin Stars' limited-time summons is now open: Guide of Light · Dumbledore, Source of the Dark Abyss · The First Grindelwald."
"
"If you obtain either 'Guide of Light' or 'Source of the Dark Abyss' during the summoning, you will simultaneously receive another legendary star mark."
"
"This gift is only valid for this summoning; subsequent wishes will follow the basic rules, with a guaranteed star mark every fifty summons."
"
"They certainly know how to create an atmosphere,"
Elwin whispered, his eyes scanning the description. "A gift for the novice stage? Buy one get one free, sounds like a good deal."
There were exactly five thousand coins in his account, just enough for a complete wish cycle.
He walked to the bathroom, soaked his face with cold water, and carefully cleaned his hands as if performing some ancient ritual.
"All in, one wish."
The moment the command was given, a slowly rotating complex magic circle appeared on the interface, and ten beams of light of various colors burst out from it, tracing arcs: five pure white, three deep blue, and two deep purple glows.
"Wish Results:"
"Currency: 100 Galleons (Basic)"
"Curio: 'Every Flavor Beans' Collector's Gift Box (Basic)"
"Spell Tome: 'Lumos' Incantation Scroll"
"..."
"Spell Tome: 'Mind Wall Construction' Secret Scroll (Rare)"
"Alchemy Secret Medicine: 'Inspiration Surge' PotionRecipe (Rare)"
Elwin browsed the harvest list and nodded slightly.
Just those hundred Galleons would be enough to cover his expenses for a while, and since they came from the most basic gift, it meant the pressure on daily resources would be greatly relieved.
The inheritance of several basic incantations was also quite practical; the relevant knowledge was imprinted deep in his consciousness the moment he obtained it, including the precise recitation syllables, gesture trajectories, and even the subtle tricks of magic flow.
If he had a compatible wand in hand now, he could perform them immediately.
His attention shifted to the two rare items glowing with purple light. "Mind Wall Construction."
He had heard of it; although with the system's protection, the secrets deep in his soul should be safe, an extra layer of protection was always more secure.
His fleeting thoughts and private mutterings could very likely be seen through by that old scheming bee or that gloomy Snape.
Facing these two deep-thinking fellows, he had to remain vigilant at all times.
The other reward—the "Inspiration Potion."
—was quite a practical and good thing.
This Inspiration Potion originated from the original creation of a certain Potion Master in ancient times; within an hour after taking it, the consumer's brain would enter a state of high excitement, and their thinking, inspiration, and calculation abilities would be greatly improved.
Whether he needed to study a key spell or was in a critical moment of battle, this Potion could be of great use, making it practically universal.
It truly was a rare treasure that needed to be kept carefully.
With a slight thought, the Inspiration Potion, along with several other items, quietly faded away and vanished.
This was one of the system's built-in basic functions, capable of storing all items obtained from the gacha.
"System, continue the summons."
Elwin gave the command to the system in his heart.
The subsequent rewards were of roughly similar quality.
Every ten draws, one or two purple glows would always appear, suggesting some kind of pity mechanism.
Many more basic spells appeared, along with some Galleons and materials for brewing Potions.
However, Elwin's expression gradually turned sour as the summoning progressed.
What's going on? Does this pool really only release gold rewards at the pity threshold? It's been forty times, and not a single gold has been seen?
Could it be that even after living another life, I can't wash away my innate destiny of being an unlucky soul?
Just as Elwin was gradually losing heart and his eyes were becoming hollow and vacant, the light of the final ten-pull burst forth.
*Swish!*
Two dazzling golds, two deep purples, three bright blues, and three plain white glows burst out from the magic circle simultaneously.
The golden light was particularly intense, almost completely masking the brilliance of the other colors.
Elwin's vision was instantly filled with this golden light, and he was overwhelmed by a surge of ecstasy.
"Great! It's actually a double gold! I knew it, I'm no unlucky soul, but of authentic European lineage! This is a genuine British residency!"
Elwin could hardly believe his luck.
The first forty draws had almost always approached the pity threshold, but who would have thought that this final ten-pull would bring a surprising "double gold."
.
Combined with the novice pool's own buff effect, he had obtained a total of three golden cards in this pool.
Holding his breath, he excitedly stared at the two golden cards on the light screen that had just faded from their dazzling light, gradually revealing their true forms.
Name: Albus Dumbledore
Quality: Gold
Talents: Transfiguration: 8 (Legendary), Dark Arts: 8 (Born for Azkaban), Defense Against the Dark Arts: 8 (Ally of Justice)
Elwin's gaze froze on the three cards floating in mid-air.
The edges of the first card flowed with a luster like molten gold, with the outline of a bird spreading its wings in the center, and lines of burning text appearing below:
**Spells: Most Dark spells, Arts of resisting the Dark Arts, Body Transformation.
**
* **Name: Phoenix (Companion Contract Card)**
* **Quality: Gold**
* **Gender: Female**
* **Essence: Rebirth from Fire**
* **Abilities: Healing Tears, Spell Devouring, Long-distance Resonance, Spatial Jump.
**
The second card was suffused with a dark silver glow, with a sharp silhouette branded in the center, characters flickering like cold flames:
**Name: Gellert Grindelwald**
* **Quality: Gold**
* **Essence: Dark Arts Mastery 8, Predictive Vision, Beast Transformation (Only the two highest-tier essences are displayed)**
* **Spells: Most Dark spells, Arts of resisting the Dark Arts, Lost Ancient Evil Arts.
**
Elwin was unable to snap out of it for a long time.
The depth of these two legendary figures was indeed unfathomable, especially Albus Dumbledore.
Not only did he possess Rank 8 essence in the fields of White magic and Transfiguration, but his accomplishments in the Dark Arts actually rivaled Grindelwald's.
And then there was that Phoenix.
Before even stepping through the school gates, he had obtained such a symbolic contract creature—this meant that even at Hogwarts, he could use its power to escape any predicament at any time.
However, after the brief shock, the burden of choice weighed down on him.
Each golden contract card allowed only one essence or spell to be chosen for resonance enhancement.
There was no need to hesitate with Dumbledore's card.
It had to be the arts of resisting the Dark Arts.
Elwin's talent in this area was rated at Rank 4; although already among the best, there was still room for improvement.
What truly made it difficult for him to choose was Grindelwald's card.
He originally leaned towards continuing to strengthen his ability to resist the Dark Arts; if he could push it to Rank 6, it would be enough to join the ranks of the very few top experts in the world.
According to his estimation, even legendary figures of the Marauders' generation like Severus Snape, Sirius Black, or James Potter only had Rank 5 mastery in this field.
But when his gaze once again swept over the striking line in his attributes, "Dark Arts Mastery: Rank 8,"
desire spread like wildfire.
As long as he fused with this essence of Grindelwald's, he could reach the peak marked by the system—Rank 9.
"Forget it,"
he whispered to himself, as if convincing himself, "Defensive arts can wait for another day. Right now, I want to witness the scenery above the peak with my own eyes."
"System,"
he raised his hand, his fingertips lightly touching specific areas of the two cards, "Resonate with Dumbledore's 'Arts of Resisting the Dark Arts' and Grindelwald's 'Dark ArtsMastery' essence."
"Command confirmed.
Resonance procedure completed."
Elwin: "..."
Is it over? He moved his fingers and focused his mind to sense the changes within his body.
Everything was as usual, with none of the surging or warm currents he had imagined.
Perhaps talent was just like that; it wouldn't change anything immediately, but would quietly broaden the boundaries of understanding and illuminate the previously dark paths when studying every spell and analyzing every rune in the future.
He put away the cards as the deepening twilight outside draped the room in a pale purple veil.
Change had already occurred, in unseen places, quietly waiting to sprout.
A halo of reddish-gold light rippled in front of Elwinwithout warning, instantly transforming into a rotating gate of fire.
From deep within the doorway, a giant bird with magnificent wings and an elegant posture flew out, its whole body shimmering with a glass-like luster.
It landed lightly on his shoulder, bringing its beak, as bright as the morning sun, gently close to his cheek.
Elwin raised his hand to stroke the warm, smooth feathers, a genuine smile appearing in his eyes.
Who could not cherish such a spiritual creature?
He bonded with the bird for a moment, then suddenly remembered something and said in a low voice, "Headmaster Dumbledore's Phoenix is called Fawkes... you should have a name too. From now on, I'll call you 'Furei'."
"Ying—"
A clear cry rang out.
Elwin was slightly startled.
Do phoenixes... cry like that? It sounds more like a little creature acting spoiled.
After playing with Furei for a while longer, he finally turned his attention to the rest of his gains.
Five hundred Galleons, several spell tomes, and six cards flickering with dark purple light.
The cards appeared in sequence:
Transfiguration Study Notes *1, Potion Essentials *1, "Finite Incantatem" Shielding Charm *2, "Occlumency" Mental Defense Art *2.
Countless incantations and insights flowed into his mind like a stream. Elwin stood still with his eyes closed, carefully digesting the incoming knowledge.
After about five minutes, he reopened his eyes.
"Very good,"
he whispered to himself, "My mastery of Occlumency is already no less than that of someone who has practiced for ten years. I've also gained a basic understanding of other spells. After entering Hogwarts, I no longer need to worry about my secrets being leaked... that Headmaster and the Potions Professor shouldn't go as far as to use Legilimencyon a student with full force."
[Current Status]
Name: Elwin Gaunt
Age: Eleven years old
Birthday: October 31st
Identity: Actual controlling shareholder of Elwin Investment Company, graduate of Garden Primary School, prospective Hogwarts freshman
Bloodline: Witch Spirit (Gradually awakening as power grows)
magic Strength: 7
Magical Items: None
Spellcasting Talent: 5 (Outstanding)
Defense Against the Dark Arts Talent: 5 (Outstanding)
Divination Talent: 0 (Nearly Silent)
...
Dark Arts Savvy: 9 (Natural Talent)
Chapter 3
Gold coins held: 0
This round of gains caused Elwin's strength to rise significantly, and the magic within his body surged nearly twofold.
According to the system, the magic of an average young Wizard is around level one at the time of enrollment, and can reach five after adulthood.
And now, he was already on par with an ordinary adult Wizard.
The first light of dawn broke through, and spots of light crawled slowly across the window screen.
Elwin closed the worn notebook in his hand, his fingertips brushing over the rough surface of the parchment.
These past few days, immersed in Potion formulas and the principles of Transfiguration, were like groping for a candle flame deep in a labyrinth—the knowledge provided by the system stopped before a certain boundary, but the vines of his thoughts could spread deeper into the shadows.
Without a wand, without gestures, only his intent repeatedly traced the trajectory of runes in the silence.
Each time he drew a repeated card, those symbols were carved deeper into his consciousness, like the tide polishing a reef.
On the last day of July, the clock hand had just passed nine o'clock.
The doorbell rang, twice, steady and restrained.
When Elwin opened the door, the wind was sweeping across the path in front of the door, kicking up a few dead leaves.
The man standing there was like a cypress tree planted in the shadows—his black robes were wide, and when filled with wind, they resembled drooping wings.
His hair was black and straight, hanging to his shoulders, making his face appear even thinner.
His nose was as sharp as a cliff, and his lips were pressed into a pale line.
When those eyes looked over, Elwin felt a chill as if he were being pierced through, like the air rushing into one's face upon opening a window on a winter night.
"Good morning, Mr. Gaunt."
The voice was low, with the texture of sandpaper.
The man leaned slightly, the gesture of his greeting as precise as a ritual.
"Severus Snape, Professor of Potions at Hogwarts, and Dean of Slytherin House. I have come today to guide you into the realm you were meant to belong to, and to assist in purchasing the items needed for enrollment."
A look of surprise and hesitation appeared on Elwin's face at the right moment, and he stepped aside to let him through.
"Please come in, Professor Snape... When the Owldelivered the letter, I thought it was someone's prank. But your appearance has made me start to believe that those words were not an illusion."
He led the black-robed guest through the foyer; the hallway was dim, with only a pillar of dust-filled light streaming in from the window at the end.
In the old photos on the wall, ancestors with blurred faces watched in silence.
Snape's gaze swept over the frames and finally stopped on Elwin's face, as if identifying some mark hidden deep within his bloodline.
"The Gaunt Family," he said slowly, as if reciting a dusty spell, "It has been a long time since a descendant has set foot in Diagon Alley."
In the living room, the two sat down across from the coffee table.
Elwin's gaze fell on Professor Snape's face, and a complex emotion welled up in his heart.
This black-robed Professor was once one of the most unforgettable characters he had seen on screen in his previous life.
In the first few movies, Elwin didn't have much affection for him—those always-tightened corners of his mouth, his mean tone, and his almost harassing attitude toward Harry Potter.
But later, as those dusty past events were gradually revealed, Elwin truly understood the burning pain behind this coldness.
Some debts are destined to be borne by the descendants of the bloodline.
This was a man whose entire life was pierced through with regret.
Because of a choice made in his youth, he had forever lost the only light in his life.
The years that followed were merely a long form of self-punishment, so much so that his eventual death seemed more like a merciful end to him.
Snape evidently did not notice the young man's wandering thoughts.
He sat upright, his black robes like solidified night, his voice low and steady:
"The name Gaunt carries extraordinary weight in the History of Magic. Your ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, was not only one of the four founders of Hogwarts, but also the founder of Slytherin House."
"Although the family's influence has not been what it once was in recent years, the ancient glory belonging to the pure bloodline still flows in your blood. I believe that at Hogwarts, you will have the opportunity to make this name shine with glory once again."
Then, Snape began to systematically introduce the basic laws and common knowledge of the wizarding world.
Elwin's mind suddenly cleared.
Previously, he had no concrete concept of his surname, but at this moment, he suddenly remembered—the mother of the one who cannot be named was indeed from the Gaunt Family.
The resurrection stone from the legends, capable of awakening the dead, was once a family heirloom of the Gaunt Family and still lies quietly in a corner of the family's old residence to this day.
Time passed quietly amidst the explanations.
Snape finally stopped speaking, his black robes fluttering slightly:
"That is roughly the basic information. You can learn more details gradually after enrollment. Do you have any other questions, Mr. Gaunt?"
"None, Professor."
A genuine light sparked in Elwin's eyes, "I am full of anticipation for the life that is about to begin, and I can't wait to see what Diagon Alley looks like."
This was not just polite talk.
His curiosity about that fantasy world hidden behind a brick wall in London had long since accumulated like a fire waiting to be lit.
"Then, please stand beside me and hold my wrist tightly."
Snape always acted decisively.
After Elwin stood still as instructed, he raised his arm—the air suddenly began to twist and rotate, as if an invisible vortex were pulling reality away.
The figures of the two suddenly dissipated with a slight popping sound, leaving only the empty living room.
...
Under the tap of the wand, the brick wall began to slide and reorganize, and a winding stone path suddenly opened up before his eyes.
Elwin's gaze was firmly drawn to the street before him.
This long road paved with cobblestones stretched into the distance, and people dressed in various Wizard robes flowed on both sides like a tide, the sounds of conversation and footsteps interweaving into a strange rhythm.
"We must go to Gringotts first."
Snape's voice pulled his thoughts back, "Although the Gaunt Family no longer possesses its former glory, it is still counted among the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and there is always some accumulation left over from the years."
They walked through the bustling crowd towards the towering white building.
Inside the hall, Snape walked straight to an unmanned counter and spoke briefly to the Goblin sitting on a high stool: "I need to open the vault of the Gaunt Family. This is the legitimate heir to the family."
The Goblin raised his eyelids to size up Elwin and handed over a small crystal prism.
Elwin followed the instruction and dripped blood from his fingertip into the interior of the prism. The Goblin took the object and shook it repeatedly, and the prism gradually began to glow with an amber light.
After a moment of confirmation, the Goblin jumped down from the seat and led the two down into the depths of the underground.
The storage room of the Gaunt Family was located at number 710, buried deep within the underground rock layers.
The cart they were riding in whistled through the darkness. Elwin grabbed the cart railing, feeling the air current scrape against his cheeks—the legendary guardian Dragon did not appear, perhaps it was sleeping somewhere.
The heavy metal door slowly opened.
The interior space of the vault was far more vast than expected, but the former glory had faded with time, and now only a pile of Galleons about two people high remained, gleaming with a faint luster.
"Taking fifty to one hundred coins will be enough to cover your expenses for the coming year."
Snape's voice echoed between the stone walls.
Elwin did not mention the Galleons he had already obtained through special means—taking them out now would obviously be inappropriate.
He casually scooped up two handfuls from the pile of money, put them into a leather bag, and turned to leave this Chamber of Secrets filled with the dust of history.
After leaving Gringotts, the two stopped in front of a shop with a mottled facade.
The peeling gold-leaf sign could barely make out the inscription: [Ollivander's wand Shop, established in 382 BC].
For a Wizard, a wand is no different from an extension of life.
Snape obviously thought this was the most urgent matter for Elwin at the moment.
The moment he pushed the door open and entered, Elwinimmediately noticed the strange difference between the interior space and the exterior appearance—countless long, thin wooden boxes were stacked from the floor to the ceiling, forming a wooden forest under the dim light; this was undoubtedly a masterpiece of the Extension Charm.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Snape. It has been a long time. Let me recall... Birch wood, Dragon heartstring core, thirteen and a half inches, right?"
The gentle inquiry came from behind the shelves on the right.
The silver-haired old man appeared silently, his eyes behind the lenses flashing with a light that saw through everything.
"Accurate as always."
Snape's response was as cold as ice, "This is Mr. Gaunt. We have come today to find a wand that resonates with him."
"The wand always chooses the Wizard."
Ollivander leaned slightly, his gaze tracing Elwin's silhouette like a probe, "Let's see what kind of partner the ancient bloodline will resonate with."
Ollivander was indifferent to Snape's coldness, but was stirred by the implicit judgment in the other's words.
He retorted in a low voice, then turned his gaze to carefully examine the young man before him.
"A descendant of the Gaunt Family... I have noted it."
His tone was gentle, but his gaze was as precise as a ruler, "Tell me, which hand do you use?"
The old man flicked his wand, and a tape measure flew over, hovering in mid-air and trembling slightly.
"Right hand."
Elwin replied.
The tape measure seemed to be imbued with life, quickly wrapping around his body to measure.
Once the measurements were done, Ollivander led him deep into the mountain of wooden shelves.
Before the old man could start picking, the shelves suddenly vibrated subtly.
"Clatter—"
Nearly one-tenth of the wooden boxes popped open simultaneously, and countless wands soared into the air, gathering by the boy's side like a flock of birds returning to their nest, circling and flying, tracing trajectories of flowing light.
"Merlin above..."
Ollivander muttered to himself, the spectacle reflected in his eyes, "This is truly... incredible."
He walked a few steps closer, squinting to identify those wands flying of their own accord: "All the wands that are flapping—without exception, the cores are Phoenix tail feathers."
"Child, your level of resonance with this type of wand has completely surpassed all my records. Even when Albus Dumbledore received his wand from my grandfather, it did not trigger such a spectacular scene."
Elwin understood in his heart—this must have something to do with Furei.
As the thought turned, a ball of golden-red flame suddenly bloomed in mid-air.
Under Snape's suddenly constricted pupils and Ollivander's stunned gaze, a magnificent Phoenixappeared from the flames and landed lightly on the young man's shoulder.
"Its name is Furei."
Elwin stroked the Phoenix's shimmering feathers, "The third day after receiving the Hogwarts letter, it suddenly appeared at my window. Since that day, we have become each other's companions."
Gazing at the divine bird that, according to legend, only the purest souls could approach, the two adult Wizards were silent for a moment—what they had seen today had long exceeded all their past knowledge.
"Perhaps it is precisely because of Furei's presence that my constitution is particularly close to wands made with Phoenix tail feathers."
The young man spoke at the right moment, a glimmer of probing in his eyes, "Mr. Ollivander, could I ask you to use the feathers shed by Furei to custom-make an exclusive wand for me?"
Upon hearing this, a fiery brilliance suddenly lit up in the old man's eyes.
In recent years, the temperament of Dumbledore's Phoenixhad become increasingly unpredictable, and it had not provided him with new tail feathers for a long time.
His stock was becoming increasingly thin, and he had been secretly anxious about the source being cut off.
Now that another Phoenix had appeared in the world—for a wandmaker obsessed with the study of cores, this was simply a turning point gifted by Merlin.
Ollivander led Elwin into the workshop at the back, and the old man and the young man talked in low voices for quite a while.
A few moments later, the two reappeared in front of the wand shop.
Ollivander watched with a wry smile as Elwin and Snapeturned and left, his expression mixed with a bit of helplessness.
Snape glanced sideways at the boy's irrepressible high spirits, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly.
"You will surely become an incredible businessman in the wizarding world in the future."
There was a faint mockery in the tone, but Elwin just smiled and didn't take it to heart.
In the negotiation just now, he had sold one of Furei's tail feathers to Ollivander for one hundred Galleons—a single tail feather was enough to make several wands.
In addition, he had secured a privilege for himself: he could have exclusive wands custom-made here at any time in the future.
The process of purchasing items needed for the first year did not take much time.
Snape led Elwin through various shops and soon gathered everything on the list.
Finally, at Elwin's own request, Snape took him to the Leaky Cauldron.
Chapter 4
The young man intended to stay here for three days, waiting quietly for his custom-made wand to be finished.
Since he did not yet possess a wand, he could not open the passage to Diagon Alley himself; every time he entered or left, he had to trouble the innkeeper, old Tom, for help.
Since that was the case, he simply decided not to run back and forth, and it wouldn't be too late to return home once he retrieved his wand.
Snape gave old Tom a few brief instructions before leaving Elwin at the Leaky Cauldron.
Elwin walked into the room assigned to him, tidied up the slightly dusty table, chairs, and bed, and then sat down in the old armchair by the window.
Only now did he finally have the opportunity to properly examine the system in his mind that kept sending him notifications.
Since stepping into Diagon Alley, those subtle notification sounds had been ringing one after another, but because Snape was always by his side, it was inconvenient for him to check them on the spot.
"Congratulations to the host for activating the Achievement System."
"Congratulations to the host for achieving: First Exploration of the wizarding world · Diagon Alley, received coin reward: 200."
Immediately after, several achievement records appeared on the interface one after another—Gringotts, Ollivander's wand shop, and the other shops Snape had taken him to.
The rewards given for these locations were not generous, only fifty coins each.
"I'll have to visit these shops more often in the future,"
Elwin thought to himself, "Once my strength is sufficient, I must also take a trip to Knockturn Alley; perhaps I can trigger quite a few rewards there as well."
Looking at the accumulated coin amount on the panel, he decided to keep saving until he had enough for a guaranteed draw.
After all, fleeting good luck is never enough to change the essence of things; only a pity system can bring a sense of security.
Only that definite bottom line could make him feel a sense of peace.
How could something like a one-shot success exist? There is no such luck in the world.
Right, absolutely impossible.
On the morning of the third day, guided by Tom, the owner of the Leaky Cauldron, Elwin passed through the brick wall and finally stepped into Diagon Alley.
During these days of staying in the tavern's attic, relying on his handsome appearance and sociable personality, he had become quite familiar with owner Tom.
During his stay, Elwin even caught a glimpse of that figure who caused such a sensation from afar—when Harry Potter appeared in the bar, the whole room seemed to boil over; every gaze was cast toward him with the fervor of star-chasing, focused on the slightly thin boy standing beside the half-Giant Hagrid.
Elwin did not go forward, only watching quietly from across a few wooden tables.
He knew clearly that in the coming seven years, the name "Harry" was almost synonymous with "trouble."
He had no desire to have too much interaction with this savior; after all, his own surname was already eye-catching enough, and the gaze of that silver-bearded elder might have already quietly fallen upon him.
Walking into the bustling Diagon Alley, Elwin headed straight for Ollivander's wand shop.
When he pushed open the narrow door, the brass bell gave a crisp, light chime.
"Mr. Gaunt, you have arrived."
Ollivander looked up from behind the wooden shelves piled high with long boxes; his eyes were slightly dark underneath, and his voice revealed the exhaustion of many days.
It seemed he had been busy rushing to make wands for the past three days.
"Please come this way," he beckoned, his tone implicitly revealing a certain excitement, "These few here were all finished recently; the wand cores are all taken from Phoenix tail feathers, but the wood and length are each different... come and try them."
He first took out a wand made of maple, nine inches long, with a warm luster. "Come, give it a wave."
Elwin had just taken it and given it a light flick when a crimson light suddenly burst forth, striking the side wall; bricks and stones crumbled down, leaving a shallow pit.
"Oh, no, no," Ollivander quickly took back the wand and shook his head, "It reacts too intensely to you... although it fits, it is not steady enough."
He turned and picked out another one, the dark brown wand body faintly glistening. "Mahogany, thirteen inches—many Wizards skilled in Transfiguration prefer this wood."
Elwin took it as instructed, and as soon as his wrist moved, the stacked wand boxes on the surrounding shelves suddenly floated up simultaneously, as if lifted by a silent wind, swaying gently.
"Wonderful... truly wonderful," Ollivander pushed up the glasses that had slid down to the bridge of his nose, his eyes flashing with a thoughtful light, "Both have resonated with you, but it seems... there is still a lack of that just-right harmony."
Ollivander pondered for a moment, then took out a crimson wooden wand from the cabinet.
The wand body faintly radiated warmth, as if it contained an unextinguishable furnace fire.
"Holly wood, ten and a half inches."
Elwin took the wand mechanically.
Before he could even wave it, the magic in his body suddenly heated up, surging through his veins like magma.
He instinctively poured power into the tip of the wand and raised his arm—a Phoenix formed of blazing flames burst forth, letting out a clear, melodious cry, and flapped its wings, rushing straight toward the shop door.
Just at this moment, the door opened slightly.
An Asian girl stepped into the door, and head-on, she saw the fire Phoenix attacking through the air.
She stood frozen in place, forgetting to dodge in her astonishment.
"Watch out!" Elwin shouted urgently, his wrist turning sharply to the right.
The magical Phoenix seemed to understand human intent, tracing a crimson arc in mid-air, barely avoiding the girl, and crashed into the side wall, exploding into a burst of golden-red light.
The dust raised by the shockwave drifted down slowly.
Elwin stepped forward quickly to support the girl's shoulders: "I am truly sorry! Are you hurt?"
Only then did he clearly see her features—a petite face blending the gentle beauty of the East with the deep bone structure of Western Europe.
Those startled eyes still held a lingering daze, which instead added a bit of naive innocence.
Cho Chang had come to Diagon Alley alone today, originally just to purchase wand maintenance tools.
Both her parents were busy, so she had walked into this old shop by herself.
Who would have expected that just as she pushed open the door, a scorching Phoenix phantom would rush toward her face.
At that moment, she had frozen completely, only able to watch helplessly as the divine bird formed of flames swept past her side, scattering into thousands of sparks against the stone wall.
It was not until that strange young man rushed over anxiously to ask that she gradually came back to her senses.
The first thought that surfaced in her mind was unusually clear: He is really good-looking.
The morning light shone through the window lattice, landing on the young man's slightly lowered eyelashes.
Elwin Gaunt stood there, his figure slender, his bone structure revealing an elegance forgotten by time.
Something long dormant deep in his bloodline had quietly awakened, quietly sculpting his contours, causing those originally handsome brows and eyes to be tinged with a breathtaking radiance, like distant mountains appearing in the morning mist.
It was just that this radiance was still separated by a veil, unable to reach the elegance eternally carved by pen and ink in legends.
"I... I am fine."
Cho Chang came back to her senses, only to realize that the other person's steady support was resting on her shoulders.
A touch of crimson silently spread across her porcelain-white cheeks, like light paint accidentally dropped on rice paper; as it diffused, even the air became a bit softer.
Mr. Ollivander stood to the side, watching silently.
The young man's eyes held lingering tension as he gazed intently at the shy, head-bowed girl before him; the scene was as beautiful as a gilt illustration on the edge of a medieval manuscript.
The old man touched his stomach, where a strange feeling of fullness welled up, though it was clearly still too early for lunch.
He shook his head gently.
"It is good that you are unharmed."
Seeing that the girl was only a bit frightened, Elwin's tense shoulder line relaxed slightly.
He withdrew his hand, his fingertips retaining the soft touch of the fabric. "I haven't asked your name yet?"
"Cho Chang."
The girl raised her eyes, her voice as clear as a stream striking pebbles, "I am a second-year student at Hogwarts. It seems... I haven't seen you at school?"
"Elwin Gaunt."
He stated his name, "A new student enrolling this year."
As his gaze swept over the girl's exquisite Asian face, Elwin had long anticipated this in his heart, yet when he saw it with his own eyes, he still felt a slight dizziness.
Those distant judgments trapped by narrow aesthetics seemed so absurd and ridiculous at this moment.
The person before him had brows and eyes like a painting, her temperament calm yet vibrant; just standing there, she had already proven why even that destined savior had once been swayed by her.
She was an unquestionable piece of scenery in this ancient Castle.
"I am truly sorry just now, Miss Chang."
Elwin's tone was sincere, "I just touched the wand destined for me, and my magic surged, failing to restrain it."
Although he did not truly possess it yet, the clear shadow of the Phoenix conjured by the wand tip was already branded in his heart—it had to be this one.
"It's okay, that Phoenix was beautiful."
Cho's lips curved into a subtle arc, "Please just call me Cho."
Ollivander stood behind the counter, watching the subtle atmosphere flowing silently between the two young people, and suddenly felt that his shop was exceptionally empty yet exceptionally bright today.
He coughed lightly, like a gust of wind brushing over silent book pages.
Elwin turned his head at the sound, meeting the old man's insightful and slightly teasing gaze, and unconsciously coughed lightly as well, shifting his gaze away.
"Mr. Ollivander, I believe this wand has already resonated with my soul; there is no need to try others."
A knowing smile appeared on Ollivander's aged face, and he nodded gently, as if he had long foreseen this moment.
The light outside the window fell obliquely into the shop, and the faint golden glow left by the Phoenix phantom just now still remained in the air. "As you said, Mr. Gaunt."
"The wand chooses the Wizard—especially such a strong choice, often signifying the beginning of an extraordinary journey."
He raised his withered wrist and gave a casual wave, and the wand boxes scattered on the counter flew back to the towering wooden shelves in an orderly fashion.
Then, he turned to the girl standing quietly to the side, his silver-white eyebrows raised slightly: "My dear Miss Chang, visiting today, does your wand need maintenance?"
"No, Mr. Ollivander, it has always been very loyal."
Cho Chang's voice was clear and soft, like a summer stream, "I just wanted to choose a set of care tools to cherish it more in daily life."
When she spoke, her lips held a shallow smile, and the sunlight reflected on her white skirt, glowing with a pearl-like luster.
Elwin stood by the door watching this scene, and a corner of his heart moved gently.
When the two walked out of the wand shop one after another, he suddenly stopped and turned to look at the girl beside him.
"I took up quite a bit of your time in the shop just now," he said, his tone natural and earnest, "I wonder if I might have the honor of inviting you to sit at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour? Consider it an apology."
Future images concerning the savior and his red-haired friend flashed quickly through his mind, and he immediately decided to quietly cut off those possibilities that had not yet happened.
At this moment, he only wanted to let this girl in the white dress before him linger a little longer amidst ice cream and sunshine.
Cho tilted her head slightly, a strand of hair brushed up by the breeze. "You are too polite, Elwin."
She paused, the corners of her eyes curving into a lovely arc, "However, Florean's raspberry parfait is indeed hard to refuse."
Time in the ice cream parlor was as light as bubbles.
Elwin recounted some clever and novel stories and jokes—those fragments from distant memories, rewoven by him, turned into a humor unique to this era.
Cho's laughter rang out from time to time, like wind chimes gently clinking.
The sense of unfamiliarity between the two gradually melted, replaced by a quietly growing tacit understanding.
When parting, Cho turned around at the street corner, her eyes bright: "On the day school starts, if you can't find an empty compartment on the train, you can come find me. I will introduce Marietta and the others to you."
Elwin nodded in agreement, watching her back disappear into the crowd, and it was a long time before he shifted his gaze.
Days flew by as if cast with an acceleration charm, and in the blink of an eye, it was the last day of August.
Elwin stood in his bedroom, eyeing the seemingly ordinary leather suitcase at his feet, and patted the lid with satisfaction.
"Undetectable Extension Charm... it is indeed much more decent than dragging around big bags and small parcels."
These past few days, that daily mysterious gift had actually allowed him to draw this extremely practical spell.
Although he had only just glimpsed the path, he had successfully expanded a comfortable little space inside the trunk, enough to accommodate all his luggage and books.
In the afternoon, he took a taxi to King's Cross Station.
Passing through the bustling crowd, he walked slowly toward the seemingly ordinary wall between platforms nine and ten.
He happened to catch a glimpse of a family carrying an Owl cage—the father gave his child a wink, and then both of them rushed toward the stone wall in succession, disappearing in an instant.
Chapter 5
Elwin took a gentle breath, gripped the handle of his suitcase, and walked toward the wall with a steady and firm pace.
Just as he was about to collide with it, he closed his eyes.
A warm breeze brushed against his cheeks, and when he opened his eyes again, a different scene lay before him: a deep red steam train sat at the platform, while the crowded throng of people seeing off their loved ones, fluttering Owls, and rowdy students wove together into the unique September symphony of the wizarding world.
The moment he passed through the stone pillar, his vision suddenly brightened.
An old-fashioned steam locomotive stood quietly at the platform, with parents and children gathered in small groups, their cheerful chatter washing over the air like a tide.
Elwin stepped onto the train with a light gait, casually picking an empty compartment to sit in, intending to go find Cho Chang after the train started moving.
Before long, the whistle blew a long note, and the wheels began to turn slowly.
He stood up and walked through the corridor, peering into each compartment—luck was on his side; he had only walked through two carriages before he spotted that familiar figure.
"Cho, long time no see."
He stopped at the door and greeted her inside.
Cho was sitting by the window, with a freckled girl sitting opposite her.
"Elwin!"
Cho's eyes lit up.
Although they hadn't seen each other for nearly a month, their correspondence had never ceased, so there was no sense of estrangement in this reunion.
She recalled her surprise when she first saw Fureidelivering a letter, and how those subsequent letters had always been filled with endless questions about the Phoenix.
Elwin sat down naturally beside Cho and nodded at the girl opposite them.
"Cho, who is this?"
"Oh, this is Marietta Edgecombe, my good friend."
Cho introduced them hurriedly, "Marietta, this is Elwin Gaunt."
"Gaunt? The Gaunt from the Sacred Twenty-Eight?"
Marietta widened her eyes, "My mother mentioned that this family had almost vanished from the British wizarding world, with only a branch of the bloodline remaining in the United States."
"Yes, that is the one."
Elwin said in a calm tone, "I only found out about this after Professor Snape visited. Actually... I grew up in a Muggleorphanage."
He spoke lightly, as if telling someone else's story.
Marietta immediately looked apologetic, while Cho felt a slight ache in her heart.
She had never imagined that this boy, who always carried such a bright smile, had such a past.
Almost subconsciously, Cho reached out and gently took Elwin's hand which was resting on his knee.
She felt the warmth from his fingertips; her earlobes turned slightly red, but she did not let go.
It was as if she could convey her strength and care to him this way.
The warmth on the back of his hand made Elwin slightly startled.
He lifted his eyes to see the girl's lowered eyelashes and flushed cheeks, yet that hand held his firmly.
In truth, he didn't feel there was anything wrong with growing up in an orphanage—he didn't even wish to call anyone his parents anymore—but Cho's undisguised concern at this moment was like a ray of sunshine falling into his heart, causing him to soften involuntarily.
The soft, warm touch from her fingertips felt like holding a petal of early spring.
A silent warmth flowed slowly through the narrow compartment, and a certain tacit understanding grew quietly in the silence, drawing their two hearts closer together.
Not wanting to see worry cloud those beautiful eyes, Elwinsmiled and steered the conversation toward Quidditch.
Sure enough, as soon as flying and the Golden Snitch were mentioned, Cho's expression brightened immediately, her speech as light and quick as the wind sweeping across the pitch.
Her eyes sparkled when she talked about tactics, and her gestures danced as she described classic matches—that was the passion of a future Ravenclaw Seeker.
He listened with a smile, but his thoughts drifted to higher places.
The thrilling chases across the Castle spires he had seen on screen in his past life were now something he could experience firsthand; not to mention the memories of flying that had inexplicably flooded his mind a while ago, flickering like blue starlight in his consciousness, making him feel a real yearning for the days when he would grip a broomstick handle.
The compartment door was gently knocked, and a smiling Witch pushing a food trolley appeared. "Dear children, would you like anything to eat?"
Elwin enthusiastically ordered one of every kind of candy and pastry, and the dazzling array of packages soon piled up on the small table.
He winked at Cho and Marietta. "Could you help me share these? I certainly can't finish them by myself."
After the idle chatter of the journey, the initial awkwardness between the three had vanished. Mariettalaughingly picked up a Chocolate Frog, and the compartment was filled with the sounds of cheerful chewing and laughter.
* * *
Time slipped away quietly amidst their conversation.
When the sky outside the window was dyed ink-blue, the train gradually slowed down, and the lights of the platform blurred into hazy spots of light in the drizzle.
The three hurriedly changed into their black robes. Elwincaught a glimpse of the slanting rain outside, and a chill seeped into the carriage along with the damp air.
He suddenly remembered something, turned around, and took a wool scarf from his luggage—it was light grey, with a fine, dense pattern woven into it.
"It's cold outside."
He said softly, gently wrapping the scarf around Cho's neck.
The girl's earlobes turned slightly red as her fingertips brushed over the soft wool, and she did not refuse.
The train came to a halt, and the crowd surged toward the doors.
Elwin protected Cho as they stepped down onto the platform, the rain hitting their faces with the chill of September.
Not far away came a booming, bell-like shout: "Firs-years! Over here, gather round!"
A giant of a man, who looked as if he could carry a carriage, stood in the curtain of rain holding a lantern, the light illuminating his shaggy beard.
"I have to go."
Elwin nodded at Cho and turned to join the group of anxious first-years.
The fine rain fell on her shoulders, while the lingering warmth of the scarf still clung to her fingertips.
The oil lamp swayed in Hagrid's large palm, its dim light almost swallowed by the darkness.
The first-years stumbled along behind him, their feet treading on the slippery mud and twisted tree roots.
Elwin took out his wand and whispered an incantation. A soft, steady white light immediately lit up the tip of his wand, like a captured piece of moonlight, illuminating the few slightly panicked faces around him.
"Look, Ron!"
Someone exclaimed in a hushed voice.
Elwin turned back toward the sound and saw two boys following not far behind him.
The one who spoke had red hair and freckles; the one next to him wore glasses, and beneath his dark fringe, there was a faint, lightning-shaped scar.
"I'm Harry Potter,"
The boy with glasses spoke up, seeming slightly awkward about his comment just now, "This is Ron Weasley."
"Elwin Gaunt."
Elwin replied briefly and nodded.
Harry noticed that the other boy's expression remained calm upon hearing his name, with none of the surprise or adoration he had already become accustomed to.
This made him breathe a sigh of relief, and even feel a sense of kinship. "Are you also... from a non-magical family? I mean, a Muggle family."
"My mother was."
Elwin replied, continuing to light the path ahead with his wand.
"You're really good; I don't even know a single spell yet."
Harry opened up, his tone filled with sincere envy, "But I met a girl on the train, Hermione Granger. She's also Muggle-born, but she was able to fix my glasses with magic."
As he spoke, he subconsciously adjusted his frames.
The path was exceptionally rugged, and from time to time, soft cries of stumbling and the rustling sounds of helping one another could be heard in the line.
But Harry was very willing to keep talking.
Since arriving in this brand-new world, the gazes around him had always been a mix of reverence and curiosity, as if they were examining a legend rather than an eleven-year-old boy who was just as clueless about everything.
Meeting a peer at this moment who was equally unfamiliar with the wizarding world, yet appeared so composed, made him feel a rare sense of ease.
Cho Chang's gentle expression of expectation echoed in Elwin's ears again.
He stared into the darkness ahead, so thick it seemed impossible to dissolve, while the halo of light from his wand danced gently at the tip.
The surname Gaunt was like an invisible brand, almost foretelling a predetermined path.
But the desire in his heart not to let anyone down, along with his clear-headed assessment of his future situation, made him secretly resolve to make his own choice.
No matter what choice that ancient Sorting Hat might make, he at least had to try to speak with his own voice.
"I just happened to flip through a few books in advance and tried practicing it; I didn't expect it to actually work."
Elwin's tone was very casual.
He did not deliberately avoid Harry; he was happy to accept ordinary interactions.
As for whether that deep-thinking elder would set any traps—well, that would depend on one's own ability; we shall see.
Harry pulled at the corner of his mouth in embarrassment.
He himself had flipped through the textbooks and had once foolishly recited the incantations, but nothing happened, so he hadn't tried again after that. "Which house do you want to go to? Ron says Gryffindor is the best, as long as it's not Slytherin."
Beside him, Ron nodded vigorously.
In the Weasley family, getting into Gryffindor was almost the only correct choice.
If he were sorted into Slytherin, he would probably become a stain on the entire family.
Elwin just smiled without making a comment.
In his mind, however, a beautiful figure emerged, along with that soft, slender hand. He unconsciously whispered, "I would actually prefer to go to Ravenclaw... well, it's very gentle."
"What?"
Harry didn't hear clearly.
"Nothing. I just think Ravenclaw suits my temperament better; I like it there."
"Oh, alright."
Discovering that this new friend didn't aspire to Gryffindor, Harry felt a bit disappointed, but he wouldn't force his wishes on others.
Under Hagrid's guidance, the young wizards boarded the small boats in groups of four.
The boats sailed slowly toward the cliff, and following Hagrid's gesture, everyone ducked their heads to pass through the low archway.
Elwin almost laughed out loud—even when stooping, Hagrid's frame was still much taller than the young wizards, yet everyone still uniformly followed suit and lowered their heads.
The boats finally pulled up to the dock.
Hagrid led them through a damp tunnel, across a grassy slope, and arrived in front of the main gate of the towering Castle.
With a soft sound of machinery, the heavy oak doors slowly opened inward.
A stern-faced Witch in impeccable attire walked out, her emerald-green robes and pointed hat perfectly in place.
Her rigid expression instantly made the previously chattering first-years hold their breath.
"Professor McGonagall, the first-years are all here."
Hagrid pointed behind him.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."
Professor McGonagall's expression softened slightly. She raised her wand and gave a gentle wave, and the young wizards behind her, who had been soaked by the rain and had disheveled robes, were instantly clean and tidy, looking brand new.
Professor McGonagall's words let the young wizards' tense nerves relax slightly.
They followed in the footsteps of this stern Witch, passed through the heavy wooden doors, and stepped into the brightly lit Great Hall.
Countless leaping torches on the stone walls illuminated the space, making it warm and mysterious. Above the vaulted ceiling, specks of starlight drifted silently, as if the entire night sky had been gathered here.
At the end of the Great Hall, a long table was laid out, where a silver-haired elder was conversing in low tones with the black-robed Professor Snape beside him.
The four long tables arranged longitudinally were filled with older students, and the golden plates and goblets shimmered with a soft glow under the floating candlelight.
Everyone's gaze was quietly cast toward the group of anxious first-years at the entrance.
Professor McGonagall did not walk straight through the hall but guided the group to the right, having the first-years stand in a line.
Whispers spread through the Great Hall like ripples, and many older students leaned forward to peek curiously.
"Welcome to Hogwarts."
Professor McGonagall's voice echoed clearly, "Before you officially begin your studies, you must go through the Sorting Ceremony to determine your house."
She unfolded the yellowed parchment in her hand: "When your name is called, please step onto the platform ahead and put on the Sorting Hat; it will guide you to your house."
Elwin stood in the line, his gaze sweeping across this hall of his dreams.
The floating candlelight swayed in the depths of his eyes, and ancient magic seemed to flow through the cracks in the stone walls.
He gently clenched his palms, feeling the throb of excitement surging in his blood.
Finally, he was here.
* * *
On the platform, that worn-out pointed hat suddenly split open a thin seam, opened its mouth as if waking up, and began to sing a song with a strange rhythm.
The lyrics swirled under the vaulted ceiling, sometimes impassioned and sometimes humorous, finally ending with four deep bows before returning to stillness.
As the applause died down, Professor McGonagall raised the list again.
"Next, when your name is called, please come up to the stage."
She paused, her gaze lingering on the parchment for a moment, her brows furrowing imperceptibly, "Iron-clad—apologies."
She cleared her throat, "Hannah Abbott!"