Chapter 3 The Castle

"Salim, R... Raffel, I can't find it anywhere." Neville's eyes were swollen, making him appear as though he had been punched by a troll.

"Don't worry, you'll see your toad soon. Can you stop crying?" Salim led Hermione and Neville to select a boat and take their seats. "Besides, what's so special about that toad? If you want a pet, I'll get you an owl later."

As all the young wizards settled onto the boats, the vessels started to move slowly on their own, heading towards the house. Hermione and Salim sat on one end, while Neville occupied the other - the stout boy's rear end was slightly on the larger side.

Gazing at the majestic house in the distance, even Salim II couldn't help but whistle—yes, it's Hogwarts' distinctive theme music.

"Ah, Hogwarts House. I read about it in a book, the ceiling of the House's Great Hall..." Hermione began to chatter like an old lady again.

"Alright, Hermione, let's keep it brief. But speaking of it, did you really choose Gryffindor? I think Ravenclaw might suit you better." Salim quickly interrupted Hermione's monologue.

"Huh? Why do you say that?" Hermione turned to face Salim, her brow furrowing in confusion. "How do you know Ravenclaw would be a good fit for me?"

"Okay, let me share something that your books might not mention." Salim thought it would be better to explain it himself than to listen to Hermione's speculations.

Gryffindor stands for courage, Slytherin for talent, Ravenclaw for wisdom, and Hufflepuff for loyalty. This is mentioned in "A History of Hogwarts School". Well, that's not wrong, but some things in the book aren't written too explicitly.

Hermione might not know, and Salim certainly didn't. Gryffindor is full of mischievous kids, and their common room is always in disarray, so it's not an ideal place to do homework.

Of course, if you have an exceptional ability to ignore external disturbances, then disregard my advice. Compared to Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Slytherin offer better environments.

The students in these two houses are generally more mature, and the atmosphere is conducive to quiet studying. Ravenclaw has its own library. While it may not be as extensive as the main library, it contains books left behind by Ravenclaw alumni.

Slytherin doesn't have its own library, but there are plenty of empty classrooms and hidden spaces near the Slytherin common room. This suits me quite well. I'd rather not trek back to my warm bed after brewing potions or practising spells halfway across the house.

After all, professors can tell if students are in bed past lights out. While Hufflepuff is also underground and has the kitchen nearby, the Hufflepuffs... Well, let's just say they're a very friendly bunch.

"So, Hermione, after getting to know you a bit, do you think you'd fit in with the Gryffindor atmosphere? Can you get along with a bunch of young wizards who equate recklessness with bravery, enjoy late-night escapades, and constantly get into trouble? Can you ignore all that and focus on your studies, even when those troublemakers get points deducted?" Salim turned to Hermione and asked, then shifted his gaze to Neville.

"Oh, speaking of Professor Snape, Neville, did you study Potions like I told you to?"

Neville's expression turned sheepish as he remembered what he had been trying to forget. "Uh, I... I forgot," Neville mumbled, embarrassed. He was cursed with a forgetful memory.

"In that case, I suggest you catch up quickly. There are two consecutive Potions classes on Friday morning, and feel free to ask me if you have any questions." Salim then looked at Hermione again. "Of course, if both of you end up in Gryffindor, I'm sure Hermione will be willing to help you, right?"

"Huh? Yes, I'll definitely help you, Neville." Hermione was still processing what Salim had said earlier and didn't respond immediately. After a moment of hesitation, she shared the story of the mysterious saviour she had encountered on the train while helping Neville search for his toad.

"Oh, so you met the famous 'Savior,' along with the freckled Weasley kid." Salim noticed Hermione scratching at her freckles.

"Disappointed?" Salim stood up—they had arrived.

"It's not exactly disappointment, it's more like..." Hermione began to reply, but then there was a sudden splash behind them.

Salim quickly turned around to see what had happened. He and Hermione disembarked - their boats were near the shore. Poor Neville had just managed to stand up before the boat capsized due to his weight.

"Oh, dear. Really?" Salim rushed into the water and helped Neville back to shore. "Just be careful." Feeling his wet shoes and his now-soggy robe, he looked at Neville's drenched form. Salim took out his wand and quickly dried them both.

"Alright, first-year students! Gather here!" A towering figure called out to the young wizards not far away.

"Okay, Neville, let's go." Feeling his dry feet and lighter robe, Salim motioned for them to follow. "What about you, Hermione? Go ahead."

Hermione hesitated for a moment, then decided to ask. "Salim, can Neville and I come to your place to study magic together in the future? I'm a bit worried about keeping up with the school's progress."

Salim immediately understood Hermione's concern. The few spells he had demonstrated during the journey had left the young witch feeling frustrated and inadequate, creating a sense of disparity between her and the young wizard from a magical family.

"I know what you're thinking, Hermione." Salim led Hermione and Neville to line up obediently, with Hermione standing in front of him. "Don't overthink it. Most of the young wizards are in the same boat as you. None of us knew any magic before coming here. And yes, you're welcome to come to my place for practice every week..."

"Two, four, six, got it." Hermione's memory proved much sharper than Neville's as she quickly recalled their arrangement.

Salim smirked. "Alright, just remember that. I'll find you when the time comes."

Under the guidance of the gamekeeper, the young wizards formed a line and ascended the stairs to Hogwarts House one by one. The house was truly breathtaking, and the whispers of the young wizards filled the air. Wizarding families' children boasted to one another, while Muggle-born students stared at the magnificent house in awe. Occasionally, a young wizard stumbled due to someone stepping on their robes.

The conversation about the saviour had been interrupted, and Salim wasn't inclined to press further. After all, they were all about to attend the same school. If they didn't cross paths today, there would be plenty of time ahead.

Led by the towering half-blood giant and gamekeeper Hagrid, the group of young wizards passed through a side gate of the house. The main entrance was reserved for the senior students who arrived in Hagrid's carriage. The first-year students who had come

by boat landed at the base of the hill and now had to ascend a lengthy flight of stairs to reach the house proper.

After witnessing a playful group of ghosts, the young wizards gradually settled down. They were all aware that the sorting ceremony was about to commence, causing many of them to feel nervous.

"Did you see the ones that just floated by? Were those ghosts?" Hermione whispered, turning her head towards Salim.

"More like 'ghosts,' to be precise," Salim responded. "Those are the residual consciousness of wizards, not their actual souls. There's a significant distinction. I'll explain it to you later." Salim noticed Professor McGonagall approaching with a roll of parchment and decided to cut the conversation short.

"Alright, everyone, silence! New students, the sorting ceremony is about to begin, I am..."

"Raffel!" Neville blurted out, hurrying towards Professor McGonagall.

Pfft— Salim managed to stifle a laugh. He was glad he hadn't been drinking anything at that moment, lest he would have ended up spraying Hermione's hair.

Neville gently picked up his toad from under Professor McGonagall's feet. He seemed to realize what he had done, his gaze lowering as he carefully looked at the stern-looking witch before him.

"I apologize, Professor McGonagall." Salim quickly stepped forward to offer assistance to Neville. "This is the pet he was searching for earlier."

Professor McGonagall's thin lips twitched slightly as she glanced at Salim and then focused her gaze on Neville. "All right, students, follow me in single file." With that, Professor McGonagall turned around smartly, leading the young wizards as if they were marching in a parade. Clutching the roll of parchment tightly in her hand, she might have wished she was clutching Neville himself. It was the first time a student had interrupted her just as the sorting ceremony was about to commence.

"You're good, Neville. Professor McGonagall is the head of Gryffindor House," Salim patted Neville on the shoulder. "Good luck." With that, he walked forward along with the other young wizards.

Neville remained standing, holding his toad with a mixture of awe and apprehension.

"Come on, Neville, snap out of it," Hermione urged, giving Neville a gentle nudge. "The sorting ceremony is starting, don't space out."

As Professor McGonagall pushed open the doors to the Great Hall, a spectacle unfolded before the young wizards' eyes. Candles floated in mid-air, gigantic stained-glass windows adorned the hall, senior students and professors were seated along both sides and, in the center, stood a high stool topped by a slightly shabby wizard hat.

Even for wizarding families, this was a sight unlike any other. Hundreds of pairs of eyes were fixed on the young wizards as they entered. At this moment, regardless of whether they were pure-blood or Muggle-born, nerves overtook them, causing some to shake as if they were in a cold wind - much like Neville following closely behind Salim.

"Relax, Neville, don't worry, the Sorting Hat won't bite." Salim gently pulled Neville, who was lagging behind, closer. "If you truly want to be in Gryffindor, summon your courage. You wouldn't want to let down your grandma, would you?"

"Damn Fred and George. According to them, I have to wrestle a troll or something," muttered a little redhead not far ahead, his voice suppressed as he conversed with a boy beside him.

"The guy in front is Harry Potter. I saw him on the train," Hermione whispered to Salim.

When Professor McGonagall reached the sorting hat, she gestured for silence. The slightly worn Sorting Hat, resting atop a stool, began to twitch, and a crease formed on the side facing the students - resembling a mouth. Then it began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But

don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find.

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your tops hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head.

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So, try me on and I will tell you.

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell brave of heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart.

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And you won't get in a flap!

You're safe in my hands(though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!!"

The song concluded, met with a round of thunderous applause. The Sorting Hat then nodded to each of the four house tables before falling still.

"Isn't it an eyesore, Hermione?" Salim said to Hermione, turning his head slightly. "And look at it closely, it's covered in grime and filth. I'd wager this hat has never seen a proper cleaning."

Salim didn't intentionally lower his voice, so the young wizards around him overheard. They scrutinized the hat more closely, noticing the dust and dirt on its surface, as well as the green and white spots - clear signs of mould - on its brim.

"You can see how dirty it is on the outside. Imagine how it must be on the inside," Salim continued, undeterred by the baffled expressions of those around him. "I bet you'd catch a whiff of something unpleasant the moment you put it on."

"Enough chatter. We'll have a feast after this." Hermione playfully swatted Salim on the waist.

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