Most of the young witches and wizards crossing the lake that night were far too cold and soaked to appreciate the magnificent sight of Hogwarts Castle looming through the downpour.
"Why do first-years have to cross by boat?" Albert muttered, glancing at his three shivering companions.
"I—I don't know, and I don't care to find out," Lee Jordan stammered through chattering teeth.
"Same here. I'm freezing," the twins echoed miserably, huddled together against the icy wind.
Albert couldn't help but shake his head. He knew a little about the boat-crossing tradition. The first-years followed the same route the four founders had taken when they first arrived at the castle centuries ago. Each boat carried four students to symbolize the four Houses—Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. It was meant as a legacy ritual, a reminder of the founders' hardships and the school's beginnings.
But who still knew that now?
Even Hagrid, guiding them across the lake, probably didn't. And judging by the groans around him, none of the other students cared much for ancient symbolism either.
"Watch your heads!" Hagrid bellowed over the storm.
The first-years ducked as the little boats slipped under a cliff and glided toward the boathouse beneath the castle.
"That was rough. I hate rain," one of the twins grumbled, hugging himself and sneezing.
Everyone looked utterly drenched—muddy, pale, and trembling.
"How'd you stay dry?" Lee Jordan asked, eyeing Albert's robes in disbelief. His pointed hat and cloak were completely untouched by the rain.
"Just a simple charm," Albert said lightly, noticing their curious stares.
"Alright, everyone, this way!" Hagrid called, holding his lantern high. He led them up a slippery gravel path toward the castle lawns, where a broad stone staircase rose to a pair of massive oak doors.
A tall witch in emerald-green robes stood waiting at the top. Albert recognized her immediately — Professor McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress who had once visited his home.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I'll take them from here," Professor McGonagall said, surveying the sorry-looking crowd.
Her lips twitched ever so slightly. The word disheveled didn't even begin to cover it—half the students looked like they'd just crawled through a swamp.
"First-years, follow me," she instructed crisply.
They followed her into the castle. Albert, walking near the back, couldn't help but gaze around in awe. The stone walls glowed in the light of flickering torches that gave off no smoke—enchanted flames, he suspected.
"That's Professor McGonagall," George whispered. "Percy says she's the strictest teacher at Hogwarts."
"Oh, I've met her once," Albert murmured, still studying the torches. "My sister loved it when she turned a teacup into a mouse."
Fred nudged him. "What are you staring at?"
"I'm wondering what kind of fire that is. It doesn't look ordinary," Albert said.
Fred blinked, unsure how to reply.
Albert made a mental note to investigate later. This castle, over a thousand years old, had countless secrets—and he intended to uncover them.
As if responding to his thoughts, a new message appeared before his eyes:
Quest triggered: Ancient School of a Thousand Years – Hogwarts
Hogwarts is an ancient and mysterious school of magic, founded a millennium ago. The castle hides countless unknown secrets. As a curious explorer, you must not miss this opportunity.
Objective: Explore Hogwarts Castle before graduation and uncover its hidden mysteries.
Progress: 1%
Reward: 1,000–100,000 experience; 1–10 skill points.
Holy crap, Albert thought, startled. This one's massive!
Was the system trying to turn him into a nocturnal prowler? Either way, learning the Disillusionment Charm had just shot to the top of his to-do list.
Professor McGonagall led the dripping students into a smaller antechamber near the Great Hall. It was crowded, with everyone packed shoulder to shoulder.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," McGonagall began, in the same formal tone she likely used every year. "The start-of-term feast will begin shortly, but before you take your seats, you must first be sorted into your Houses…"
Albert listened politely but couldn't help comparing it to the long-winded speeches from his past life—'I'll just say a few words,' followed by half an hour of talking. McGonagall wasn't that bad, of course, but she still went on for a good ten minutes.
In short, Albert summarized her key points: housing, sorting, and the House Cup.
When she finally finished, she began lining the students up and cleaning the rain and mud off them with swift, practiced wand movements. As Deputy Headmistress, she would never allow new students to enter the Great Hall looking like this—it would be an embarrassment to the school.
The line moved quickly as she used Scourgify and Tergeo to tidy each student, followed by a drying charm that left their clothes warm and crisp.
Albert waited patiently at the back, watching the others jostle for position like sardines desperate to dry off. He didn't mind; the rain hadn't affected him much.
When his turn came, Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow—he was already dry—but cast the spells anyway. His boots gleamed, and his robes felt perfectly warm.
"Now, please wait quietly," she said. "I'll return once everything is ready."
As soon as she left, the room buzzed with whispers.
"How are we going to be sorted?"
"Do they test us or something?"
"What if I fail?"
The nervous chatter spread quickly. Albert could barely keep a straight face. He finally understood why no one ever told the new students how the Sorting worked—it was too amusing watching them squirm.
A girl approached him, brushing her tidy hair behind one ear. "You don't seem nervous at all. I'm Alicia Spinnet."
Albert recognized her as the girl he'd helped earlier.
She smiled. "You look like you already know what's going to happen."
She wasn't wrong.
"As long as I don't end up in Slytherin, I'll be fine," Albert said casually, a small grin tugging at his lips.
He had no intention of spoiling the surprise. Watching everyone else panic was far too entertaining.
And, admittedly, Albert had a bit of a mischievous streak.