Chapter-9

The Great Hall buzzed with anticipation as the first-year students lined up, their faces a mix of nervousness and excitement. The enchanted ceiling above them displayed a clear, starry night, the twinkling stars casting a magical glow over the room. The four long tables were filled with students, each wearing their house colors, all watching the newcomers with eager eyes.

Oliver Williams stood in line, his heart pounding in his chest. The Sorting Ceremony was about to begin, and soon, he would know where he belonged at Hogwarts. Next to him, Hermione Granger was clutching her hands together, her face pale with anxiety.

"I've read about this so many times, in Hogwarts A History" Hermione whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "But now that it's actually happening… I'm terrified."

Oliver gave her a reassuring smile, though he felt just as nervous. "You'll be fine, Hermione. You're probably going to end up in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw—brave and smart, just like the book say."

Hermione bit her lip, her eyes filled with worry. "I hope so. What if the Sorting Hat makes a mistake?"

"It won't," Oliver replied confidently. "It's never wrong."

Professor McGonagall stepped forward, holding a long scroll. She called out the names one by one, and each student would walk up to the stool where the Sorting Hat lay. The hat, though old and tattered, seemed to hold a certain wisdom as it considered each student carefully before announcing their house.

"Abbott, Hannah!" Professor McGonagall called.

A blonde girl with pigtails stepped forward, looking nervous. She sat on the stool, and the Sorting Hat was placed on her head. After a brief pause, the hat shouted, "Hufflepuff!"

The Hufflepuff table erupted in cheers as Hannah joined her new housemates, looking relieved. The Sorting continued, with students being placed into Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. The cheers from each table grew louder with each new addition, filling the hall with excitement.

As Hermione's name was called—"Granger, Hermione!"—Oliver felt his own nerves spike. Hermione walked up to the stool, her hands shaking slightly. She sat down, and the hat was placed on her head. For a moment, it seemed to be deep in thought, its brim twitching as it considered her.

"Ah, yes," the hat's voice murmured, just loud enough for those nearby to hear. "Intelligent, very intelligent… but also brave, with a thirst to prove yourself. A good mind, but where to put you?"

Hermione's eyes were wide with fear as the hat deliberated. Then, after what felt like an eternity, the hat shouted, "Gryffindor!"

The Gryffindor table erupted in cheers, and Hermione let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding. She hurried over to join the Gryffindors, a relieved smile on her face. Oliver watched her go, feeling a mix of happiness for her and anxiety for himself. Soon, it would be his turn.

The Sorting continued, and the line of first-years grew shorter. Suddenly, a name was called that made the entire hall go silent.

"Potter, Harry!"

Oliver's heart skipped a beat, and he craned his neck to see the boy who stepped forward. Harry Potter—the Boy Who Lived, the one everyone had been whispering about. He had heard about Harry, of course, as had everyone else, but seeing him in person was something else entirely.

Harry was small for his age, with messy black hair and round glasses that sat slightly askew on his nose. His clothes were too big for him, hanging loosely from his thin frame, and his shoes were worn and scuffed. But the most striking thing about him was the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, a vivid reminder of the night his parents were killed and he miraculously survived.

There was a hush in the hall as Harry walked up to the stool, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and determination. The older students leaned forward, their eyes fixed on the boy who had already made history before he could even remember it. Whispers spread like wildfire as students nudged each other, trying to get a better look at him.

"Is that really him?" someone muttered.

"The Boy Who Lived…"

"He's so small…"

Harry sat on the stool, and Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head. The hat slipped down over Harry's eyes, covering his vision. For a long moment, there was nothing but silence as the hat seemed to consider him carefully. Then, in a voice that was just loud enough to be heard, it began to speak.

"Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes—and a thirst to prove yourself. But where to put you?"

The hall was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. Everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the Sorting Hat's decision.

"Not Slytherin, eh?" the hat's voice said softly, as if it were responding to something Harry had thought. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know. It's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that."

Harry's face remained impassive, though there was a slight furrow in his brow. The hat paused for what felt like an eternity before it finally shouted, "Gryffindor!"

The Gryffindor table exploded with applause and cheers, louder than ever before. Harry pulled off the hat, looking both relieved and overwhelmed, and made his way over to the Gryffindor table. Students reached out to shake his hand or pat him on the back as he passed, and he sat down next to Hermione, who gave him a shy but friendly smile.

Oliver watched the scene unfold, feeling a strange mixture of awe and empathy for Harry. It was clear that Harry was just as nervous as any of them, maybe even more so, despite all the attention. Oliver could only imagine what it must be like to carry the weight of such a famous name.

The Sorting continued, but the excitement from Harry's placement lingered in the air. Oliver's nerves returned in full force as the line grew shorter and shorter. Finally, it was his turn.

"Williams, Oliver!" Professor McGonagall called.

Oliver took a deep breath and walked up to the stool, feeling the weight of every eye in the room on him. His heart pounded in his chest as he sat down, and Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head. The hat slid down over his eyes, blocking out the sight of the hall, and all he could hear was the soft rustling of the hat's voice inside his mind.

"Ah, another interesting one," the hat murmured, its tone thoughtful. "A keen mind, a thirst for knowledge. But there's more, isn't there? A desire to prove yourself, to rise above expectations. You have a hunger for understanding, a need to delve deep into the mysteries of the world."

Oliver's breath caught in his throat. The hat seemed to know him better than he knew himself. "I—I want to learn everything I can," he thought, hoping the hat could hear him. "I want to be the best I can be."

The hat hummed in approval. "A noble goal, indeed. You have the potential for greatness, young one. But where to place you? Gryffindor would nurture your courage, but perhaps… no, I think Ravenclaw would suit you best. Yes, Ravenclaw!"

The hat shouted the last word aloud, and the Ravenclaw table erupted in cheers. Oliver felt a surge of pride and relief as the hat was lifted from his head. He hurried over to the Ravenclaw table, where the students welcomed him with open arms, clapping him on the back and offering warm smiles.

"Welcome to Ravenclaw!" said a boy with a friendly grin. "I'm Terry . You'll love it here. It's all about brains and books, which I'm guessing you're into?"

Oliver nodded, still trying to process everything that had just happened. "Yeah, definitely. I'm Oliver, by the way."

"Great to have you, Oliver!" said a girl with long, dark hair, who introduced herself as Padma Patil. "We're all a bit nervous on the first night, but trust me, Ravenclaw is the best house."

The Ravenclaw table was lively, with everyone chatting and getting to know each other. Oliver quickly learned the names of his fellow first-years: Anthony Goldstein, a boy with a calm demeanor; Michael Corner, who was already cracking jokes and making everyone laugh; and Lisa Turpin, who seemed as curious about everything as Oliver was.

As the Sorting Ceremony continued, more names were called, and the Ravenclaw table grew with each new addition. Mandy Brocklehurst, Stephen Cornfoot, Kevin Entwhistle, Su Li, Morag McDougal, and the others joined them, filling the table with a sense of camaraderie and excitement.

Once the last student had been sorted, Professor McGonagall rolled up the scroll and carried the Sorting Hat away. The hall fell silent once more as everyone waited for the next part of the evening.

At the staff table, an elderly wizard with a long silver beard and half-moon spectacles stood up, his eyes twinkling as he looked out over the assembled students. This was Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts, and one of the most respected wizards in the world.

Albus Dumbledore's warm and welcoming presence filled the Great Hall as he looked out over the students. His long silver beard and twinkling blue eyes gave him an air of wisdom and kindness that immediately put everyone at ease.

"Welcome!" Dumbledore said, his voice carrying effortlessly across the hall. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our feast, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

The hall was silent for a moment, and then laughter erupted from the students. The lightheartedness of Dumbledore's words broke the tension that had been building during the Sorting Ceremony, and the students cheered and applauded.

Dumbledore's smile widened as he looked at the sea of faces before him. "Now, let the feast begin!"

As if on cue, the empty plates in front of the students magically filled with food—more food than Oliver had ever seen in his life. There were roast chickens, platters of sausages, mountains of mashed potatoes, dishes of vegetables, and an array of pies and puddings that made Oliver's mouth water. Jugs of pumpkin juice and goblets of water appeared as well, along with baskets of fresh bread and rolls.

Oliver stared in awe at the feast laid out before him. The variety and abundance were almost overwhelming, and his stomach growled in response. He glanced around at his new housemates, who were already helping themselves to the food, and realized that he should do the same.

He reached for a serving spoon and began to pile his plate with roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and steamed vegetables. The smells were intoxicating, and he couldn't wait to dig in.

"This is amazing," Oliver said aloud, his voice filled with wonder.

Across from him, A second year grinned. "First time at a Hogwarts feast, huh? It's always like this. You'll never go hungry here, that's for sure."

Oliver smiled back as he bit into a piece of chicken, savoring the rich, flavorful taste. "I can't believe how much there is," he said between bites. "It's like a dream."

As the feast went on, Oliver found himself surrounded by friendly faces, all eager to get to know him and share stories about Hogwarts. Michael Corner, sitting a few seats down, was busy recounting a humorous tale about his mishap with a spell during the summer, which had resulted in his younger sister being temporarily covered in feathers. The story had everyone at the table laughing.

"So, Oliver," Terry Boot said as he reached for a jug of pumpkin juice, "what are you most excited about this year? Any classes you're particularly looking forward to?"

Oliver thought for a moment as he chewed on a piece of bread. "I think Charms and Transfiguration are at the top of my list," he replied. "I've read about the spells we'll be learning, and I can't wait to try them out."

Terry nodded enthusiastically. "Charms is great. I think I'm love in love with charms already. And Transfiguration—well, that's going to be challenging, but it's fascinating."

"And don't forget Potions," Michael chimed in, grinning. "Though I hear Professor Snape can be pretty tough, especially if you're not in Slytherin. But it's worth it if you can master some of the more advanced potions."

Oliver nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. He had heard about the professors and their classes, and while he was eager to start learning, he couldn't help but feel a bit intimidated by the reputation some of them had.

"Just remember," a second year said, leaning in slightly, "that you're in Ravenclaw now. We're known for our brains, so as long as you work hard and stay curious, you'll do great."

The conversation flowed easily as the first-year Ravenclaws got to know each other better. They discussed their favorite magical creatures, debated which house had the best common room, and shared their hopes for the year ahead. The older Ravenclaw students joined in as well, offering advice and tips on how to navigate the challenges of Hogwarts.

"Make sure you don't get lost on your first day," Penelope Clearwater, a fourth-year, advised with a smile. "The staircases like to move around, so it's easy to end up on the wrong floor if you're not paying attention."

"And watch out for Peeves," Eddie added with a chuckle. "He's the resident poltergeist, and he loves to play tricks on first-years. Always be on your guard."

Oliver listened intently, taking in every piece of advice. The excitement of the day had left him feeling both exhilarated and exhausted, but he couldn't wait to start exploring the castle, attending his first classes, and learning all the magic he had dreamed about.

As the feast continued, Oliver noticed Dumbledore engaging in quiet conversation with the other professors at the staff table. The headmaster's expression was serious at times, but the twinkle in his eyes never faded. There was an air of mystery about him that only added to his already legendary status. Oliver wondered what it would be like to be taught by such a powerful and respected wizard.

Finally, after what felt like hours of eating and talking, the plates on the tables cleared themselves, leaving the students feeling content and satisfied. Oliver leaned back in his seat, his stomach full, and his mind buzzing with everything he had learned.

Dumbledore stood up once more, drawing the attention of the hall, the headmaster raised his hand for silence. The hall quickly grew quiet again, all eyes turning to the elderly wizard, who now wore a more serious expression.

"Before you head to bed, I must give you all a few important notices," Dumbledore began, his voice carrying a tone of gentle authority. "First-years should note that the forest on the grounds is strictly forbidden to all students. A few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

A murmur ran through the hall as students exchanged curious glances. The Forbidden Forest was a topic of much speculation and wonder, and Oliver felt a shiver of both excitement and apprehension at the mention of it. He had read about magical forests, filled with all manner of creatures and secrets, but to know that such a place was so close was both thrilling and a bit intimidating.

"In addition," Dumbledore continued, "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, our caretaker, to remind you all that no magic is to be used between classes in the corridors. Any rule-breaking will be met with strict consequences."

More murmurs spread through the hall, and Oliver noticed a few older students exchange knowing looks. He could sense the unspoken warnings being passed along, and he made a mental note to be careful. Hogwarts was a place of magic, but it was also a place of rules, and he didn't want to get on the wrong side of any professors, especially not in his first week.

"And finally," Dumbledore's voice grew a bit lighter, though his eyes twinkled with seriousness, "the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

The entire hall fell into a stunned silence. For a moment, Oliver thought he had misheard, but the looks on the faces of the students around him confirmed that Dumbledore had indeed said what they all thought he had said. The shock quickly gave way to a wave of nervous whispers and uneasy laughter.

"What do you think that's about?" Terry Boot whispered to Oliver, his eyes wide with a mixture of curiosity and fear.

"I have no idea," Oliver replied, his mind racing. "But I'm not keen on finding out."

The warning hung in the air, creating an undercurrent of tension that clung to the otherwise festive atmosphere. Oliver couldn't help but feel a little uneasy—what could possibly be so dangerous at Hogwarts that it warranted such a dire warning? Whatever it was, it was clear that Dumbledore wanted them to stay far away from it.

Dumbledore, seemingly unbothered by the reactions of the students, smiled warmly once more. "That's all for now. I wish you all a restful night and a wonderful year ahead. Prefects, please lead the way."

With that, he sat down, and the hall began to stir with movement as students started to rise from their seats. The prefects from each house stood up, calling for the first-years to follow them. The older students were more relaxed, chatting amongst themselves as they headed toward the exits.

"Ravenclaws, this way!" called a tall girl with a calm, authoritative voice. She had the Ravenclaw emblem stitched onto her robes, marking her as one of the house prefects. "First-years, follow me!"

Oliver joined the group of Ravenclaw first-years as they gathered around the prefects. The older students smiled encouragingly, though there was a clear sense of responsibility in their demeanor.

"Let's stick together," Anthony Goldstein suggested, and the others nodded in agreement.

The Ravenclaws were led out of the Great Hall and through the castle's winding corridors. The journey to their common room was an adventure in itself, with staircases that moved and corridors that seemed to twist and turn in ways Oliver couldn't quite comprehend. The prefects moved with practiced ease, guiding the first-years along with confidence.

Finally, they reached a large door with a bronze knocker shaped like an eagle's head. The prefect stepped forward and knocked. The eagle's beak moved, and a soft, melodic voice asked, "What has keys but can't open locks?"

One of the prefects, smiled as she answered, "A piano."

The door swung open, revealing the Ravenclaw common room. Oliver stepped inside and gasped at the sight before him. The room was nothing short of magical.

The Ravenclaw common room was a wide, circular space with large arched windows that offered breathtaking views of the surrounding mountains and the Black Lake. The ceiling was domed and painted with stars, much like the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, but here it felt even more intimate and serene. The walls were lined with tall bookshelves, filled to the brim with books on every subject imaginable, from ancient runes to modern spellwork.

The room was furnished with comfortable chairs and sofas in shades of blue and bronze, with soft cushions and warm blankets draped over the armrests. In the center of the room was a large fireplace, where a fire crackled merrily, casting a warm, golden light that made the room feel even cozier. A few tables were scattered around, each one covered with parchment, quills, and ink bottles, as if waiting for students to sit down and start their studies.

"This is incredible," Oliver whispered, taking it all in. The room felt like a haven, a place where knowledge and creativity flourished.

"It really is," Terry Boot agreed, his eyes wide with wonder. "I think we're going to love it here."

The prefects guided the first-years around the common room, pointing out important features and explaining how things worked. They emphasized the importance of answering the riddle correctly to enter the common room—if they got it wrong, they'd have to wait for someone else to come by and answer it.

"There's no password like in other houses," Prefects explained. "Only a riddle. It keeps us sharp, always thinking. It's very much in the spirit of Ravenclaw."

Oliver found himself nodding in agreement. He liked the idea of having to solve a riddle every time he wanted to enter. It felt like a challenge, something that would keep him engaged and curious.

After the tour of the common room, the prefects led the first-years to their dormitory rooms. The dormitories were just as impressive as the common room, each one with a set of bed draped in blue curtains. The bed were soft and inviting, with thick blankets and plush pillows. The windows in the dormitories also offered stunning views of the grounds, making it feel like they were floating above the world.

"Each of you will have your own room assigned for all seven years," Prefects explained as they reached the dormitory hall. "Your names are on the doors. You can personalize your space as you like, but remember, no magic outside of classes until you're permitted. The professors are quite strict about that."

She paused to let that sink in before continuing. "Professor Flitwick, our Head of House, will meet with you all at 9 a.m. tomorrow morning in the common room. Be sure to be on time, dressed properly, and ready for the day. Don't be late—Professor Flitwick is very understanding, but he values punctuality."

The first-years exchanged nervous glances, making mental notes to set their alarms early. Oliver, feeling the weight of the day's events, made a silent promise to be up and ready well before the meeting.

After the prefects finished their explanations, they wished the first-years goodnight and left them to settle into their rooms. Oliver found his name on a door near the end of the hall. Pushing it open, he stepped inside and immediately felt a sense of comfort and belonging.

The room was cozy, with a bed, a desk, and a wardrobe for his belongings. A small window offered a view of the distant mountains, their peaks just visible in the moonlight. There was a sense of peace in the room, as if it were a place meant for quiet reflection and study. Oliver couldn't help but smile as he began to unpack his things, placing his books on the desk and arranging his clothes in the wardrobe.

As he changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed, the events of the day finally caught up with him. His mind was filled with thoughts of the Sorting Ceremony, the feast, Dumbledore's warnings, and the beauty of the Ravenclaw common room. It had been a day of overwhelming emotions, and now, as he lay under the warm blankets, the exhaustion began to take over.

But just as sleep began to claim him, Oliver felt a strange sensation, as if he were being pulled away from the comfort of his bed. He blinked in confusion, and suddenly, the world around him shifted. The cozy room faded away, replaced by the familiar setting of the old house where he had first met the mysterious old woman.

The room was dimly lit, with the same worn furniture and the faint scent of lavender in the air. Sitting by the fireplace was the old woman herself, her kind eyes twinkling as she looked at Oliver.

"Hello, dearie," she said, her voice as warm and welcoming as he remembered. A soft smile played on her lips, as if she had been expecting him.

Oliver stared at her in disbelief, his heart pounding in his chest. "What… how…?" he stammered, unable to form a coherent question.

The old woman simply smiled and gestured for him to sit beside her. "Come, child. There's much we need to talk about."