"Alright, before everyone goes to bed, let's sing the school song together!"
Dumbledore raised his wand and tapped it lightly. Words spun out from golden ribbons, floating before everyone's eyes.
Members of the Hogwarts choir stepped forward, and Albert noticed that the Prefect beside him was among them. Several choir members in the front row were even holding large toads.
As Dumbledore waved his wand, the entire hall—teachers and students alike—began to sing the school song, each to their own rhythm.
Albert moved his lips silently, pretending to sing along.
There was really no helping it—the song was unbelievably cringey. No wonder the Professors at the teachers' table looked so stiff; they clearly weren't enjoying themselves.
It might have been fine for the children, but watching a group of adults sing a song like this… was downright embarrassing.
"Hogwarts, Hogwarts…"
Beside him, the mischievous Weasley twins were singing to the tune of The Funeral March, completely out of sync with everyone else. The new students nearby turned to stare.
"…We'll study hard until we're dust."
Even after the song ended, the twins kept dragging out the final verse, and Albert had to resist the urge to cover his face and pretend he didn't know them.
When the last echo faded, Dumbledore dismissed everyone to their dormitories.
The Entrance Feast had finally concluded. As soon as they were dismissed, the students surged toward the doors at once, causing a complete traffic jam.
Albert suddenly understood why the first-years had been seated at the front.
If they'd been stuck behind the older students, they might have followed the wrong crowd and ended up somewhere entirely different. He could almost imagine a group of Gryffindors accidentally wandering into Hufflepuff's common room, realizing it only too late—that would be quite a sight.
"New students, follow me!"
The Prefect who had sung earlier was now leading the Gryffindor first-years.
He guided them through the bustling crowd and out of the Great Hall. After climbing the marble staircase, they split off from the new students of the other houses.
Their line of first-years wound through long, echoing corridors that twisted around the castle, avoiding the fabled moving staircases.
Portraits hung on both sides of the corridor; figures inside whispered as they passed, and some even waved or greeted them.
Albert quickly realized that Hogwarts was a maze. The Prefect led them through doors that appeared ordinary but weren't—one required them to push on a particular stone to open, another hid behind a tapestry, and yet another swung open only when a portrait stepped aside.
The worst, however, were the trick staircases. One unlucky student suddenly sank knee-deep into a step that looked perfectly normal.
Albert hurried over and grabbed the boy's arm, pulling him out. "You alright?"
"No," Lee Jordan muttered irritably. "I nearly had a heart attack! Why does this school have so many weird things?"
"I think it's fun," George grinned.
"I think so too," Fred agreed immediately.
"These were defensive enchantments from the old days," Albert explained. "Now they're just part of Hogwarts' charm. Come on—we'd better catch up before we get lost."
After what felt like ages—and when Albert's legs were starting to ache—they finally reached the eighth floor. The group followed a long corridor until they stopped before a portrait of a very plump woman. There was no doubt—this was the famous Fat Lady, guardian of Gryffindor Tower.
"Password?" she asked.
"Balderdash," the Prefect replied. The portrait swung open like a door, revealing a circular opening behind it.
He turned to the first-years before entering. "You must remember the password. The Fat Lady won't let you in without it. The current one is 'Balderdash.'"
With that, he stepped through, and they followed into the Gryffindor common room.
It was a cozy, circular chamber lined with armchairs and old sofas. A large fireplace roared in one corner, firelight casting warm shadows on the stone walls. Several upper-year students were lounging there, chatting quietly; when the newcomers entered, they smiled and waved.
"You're lucky," the Prefect said. "Tomorrow's Saturday, so no classes. Use these two days to familiarize yourselves with the castle—it's far more complicated than you think. If you don't want to spend half your first week lost, learn the way to your classrooms as soon as possible."
He pointed to two staircases. "Girls, this way. Boys, follow me."
After greeting another female Prefect, he led Albert and the other boys through the opposite door and down a narrow spiral staircase. Along the way, he pointed out the washrooms, bathrooms, and dorm entrances.
Thankfully, the bathrooms had stalls—even if they were shared.
Each dormitory door bore a small nameplate, making it easy to find their rooms.
Albert soon located his—he was sharing with the twins and Lee Jordan. The room was modest, with four curtained beds and each boy's luggage stacked beside them.
Albert yawned, opened his trunk, and took out his pajamas.
"Please take care of me from now on," he said with a friendly smile.
"Same here," the others replied, grinning. The four exchanged glances and laughed.
"Tomorrow, I'm going to explore the castle," Albert said as he took out a camera, stepped to the doorway, and snapped a photo of the dormitory. "Are you guys coming?"
"Of course! Just make sure to wake us up," the twins said in unison.
"What about you?" Albert asked, turning to Lee Jordan.
"Obviously, I'm coming too," Lee said, not wanting to be left behind.
"Goodnight, then."
Though exhausted, Albert found it hard to sleep in a strange new place. The others, full and content, were snoring within minutes.
Albert turned over and opened his system panel. His exploration progress had already reached three percent.
He wondered how much it would increase after tomorrow's tour.
Flipping through his skill list, he saw pages of entries—most spells were only level one, and some hadn't even been unlocked yet.
For a moment, he felt the urge to spend experience points to upgrade them all to level one.
Old gaming habits die hard; he'd always had the urge to max out everything.
With a sigh, Albert closed the panel before he wasted any precious experience. He'd need those points later.
Half-drifting into sleep, he dreamed of his old life—sitting with a book in his hands, turning the pages of Harry Potter for the first time.
"Was all of this a dream?"
No. He knew it wasn't. From the moment he opened his eyes after dying, he had confirmed it again and again.
This wasn't a dream.
It felt almost as if he were a fanfiction author, writing another Harry Potter story—but this time, he couldn't freely choose the plot.
Ah, being a literary youth really is an incurable condition.