Chapter 4 Hogwarts part 1

The Hogwarts castle loomed before them, a monumental silhouette against the star-spangled sky. Jonathan, squeezed between Harry and a fidgety Neville in their little boat, stared up in awe. No book description or movie scene had prepared him for this. Hogwarts wasn't just big; it was enormous, a sprawling mass of towers and turrets that seemed to touch the heavens.

Ron breathed from the boat behind them. "It's like a city!"

"It's more than that," Jonathan said, his voice hushed with reverence. "It's alive. Can't you feel it?"

The others looked at him curiously, but Jonathan barely noticed. He was too entranced by the subtle thrum of magic in the air. It felt different from his old attempts at sorcery - warmer, more welcoming. Like the castle itself was saying, 'Welcome home, little wizard.'

Their boats glided into a torch-lit cavern beneath the castle. As they clambered out onto a pebbly shore, a shout rose from the crowd of first-years. It was Neville, clutching his toad with a look of pure joy.

"Eww," came Draco's voice. "You actually want that slimy thing?"

"Hey," Jonathan interjected before Neville could wilt, "I bet Trevor's great at catching flies. Practical pet, right?" He winked at Neville, who beamed back gratefully.

They climbed a passageway in the rock, emerging onto smooth grass in the shadow of the castle. At the top of a flight of stone steps stood Professor McGonagall, looking every bit as stern and Scottish as Jonathan remembered.

She led them into a small room off the Great Hall. "Shortly, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates," she said crisply. "But first, you must be sorted into your houses..."

As she explained the houses and the points system, Jonathan's mind wandered. He wondered about the strange tingle of power he'd felt. It had started on his eleventh birthday, growing stronger each day. He'd always been good at sleight of hand, but this was different. Real. Magic.

Ron's voice snapped Jonathan out of his reverie. "Fred said something about wrestling a troll," the redhead was saying, sounding relieved that it was just a hat.

"As if," Draco scoffed. "My father would never allow such plebeian—"

"I dunno," Jonathan cut in, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Handling trolls could come in handy. You never know in this place. One day it's a nice, quiet chess game, the next you're playing whack-a-troll in the bathroom."

Harry snorted, and even Hermione, who'd been muttering spells under her breath, cracked a smile. Draco just looked at him like he'd suggested they all go surfing on the Giant Squid.

Just then, about twenty ghosts whooshed through the wall. Several kids screamed. Jonathan just stared, fascinated. "Okay, that's new," he muttered. He'd seen some weird stuff with his fledgling powers, but transparent, chatty dead people? That was a first.

After the ghosts drifted off (the Fat Friar doing finger-guns at the firsties), McGonagall returned. "Form a line and follow me," she said, in a tone that made Jonathan think she'd be great directing traffic in New York.

The Great Hall was... well, great. The ceiling was a window to the cosmos, stars twinkling merrily. "It's bewitched," Hermione whispered. "I read about it in 'Hogwarts: A History.'"

"Really? That's so cool," Jonathan said. He'd actually read that book more times than he'd had hot dinners, but becoming besties with the future "brightest witch of her age" seemed like a smart move. Know-it-all solidarity and all that.

The Sorting began. Jonathan watched names he knew become real people. "Granger, Hermione!" - Gryffindor, obviously. "Malfoy, Draco!" - Slytherin faster than you could say "daddy issues."

Then, "Potter, Harry!" The hall went quieter than a library during finals. After what felt like an eternity (but was probably like 30 seconds), the hat bellowed, "GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table went nuts. Fred and George's "We got Potter!" chant made Jonathan grin. Some things were just too iconic to change.

Finally, "Blackwood, Jonathan!"

Jonathan strode up, faking confidence like a pro. The hat dropped over his eyes, and a voice that sounded like it gargled with gravel spoke in his mind. "Well, well, what do we have here? You're an interesting one, aren't you?"

'How so?' Jonathan thought, curious.

"Your magic... it's different," the hat mused. "Old, very old. And powerful. It's like you've got one foot in Hogwarts and another... somewhere else. Somewhere ancient."

Jonathan's heart raced. 'You can sense that?'

"Of course I can, boy. I've sorted thousands of wizards, but never one quite like you. Your potential... it's vast. Untamed. You could reshape the very foundations of magic if you learn to control it."

'But how?' Jonathan thought, excitement and fear warring in his mind. 'Where do I even start?'

The hat chuckled, a sound like ancient tomes ruffling their own pages. "Funny you should ask. There's someone here who's been waiting a long, looong time for a student like you. He's been haunting - literally - the Room of Requirement. Find him, and he'll teach you secrets of magic long forgotten."

'A powerful wizard? Here? At Hogwarts?'

"Where better to hide great power than in plain sight? Now, let's get you sorted. With that much potential, better be... GRYFFINDOR!"

The hat's announcement jolted Jonathan back to the present. As he made his way to the cheering Gryffindor table, his mind buzzed with questions. An ancient magic? A mysterious teacher? It seemed his journey at Hogwarts would be even more extraordinary than he'd imagined.