Within the grand halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, four noble houses stand as pillars of tradition: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. Each house embodies the ideals of its founder, shaping the values and ambitions of its students. These ideals are deeply influenced by an individual's background, upbringing, and inherent abilities.
Over time, the division of houses has evolved into distinct social groups. Though exceptions exist, most students find themselves naturally fitting into a particular house, and after graduation, they often pursue careers aligned with its ethos. This phenomenon is not solely due to the house environment but also the invaluable network of contacts and resources cultivated during their years at Hogwarts. Much like how few film students transition into scientific research, Hogwarts graduates tend to follow paths related to their house's influence.
Unlike certain 'dead-end' majors with uncertain career prospects, a Hogwarts education offers a clear trajectory—as long as one successfully graduates.
Roger had only one thought regarding his Sorting: anywhere but Slytherin. Given his background, being placed in Slytherin would make his time at Hogwarts far too eventful. He doubted he'd be able to focus on studying with all the potential complications that would arise.
From his past life memories, Roger recalled that the Sorting Hat's decision was based not only on a student's qualities but also on their personal preferences. However, just to be safe, he wanted to confirm this himself.
He had two reasons for skepticism. First, Harry Potter existed in multiple adaptations—novels, films, radio dramas, stage plays. Which version of events was accurate in this world? Roger had only seen some of the movies. Second, from the books Professor McGonagall provided and the historical texts in his bag, it was evident that the wizarding world was far more complex than what was portrayed in the films. Just as a single province cannot represent an entire country, the snippets he had seen were merely glimpses into a much broader reality.
Thus, even with past life knowledge, Roger resolved to analyze each situation carefully.
"Hufflepuff, if possible, that's where I'd like to go," Hannah said earnestly.
After their earlier exchange, she started to see Roger in a new light. Could some of the tavern rumors about him be true? Up until now, she had dismissed them, seeing Roger as nothing more than an ordinary bookworm. But now, she wasn't so sure.
"I… I haven't thought about it yet," Neville admitted, looking nervous.
But Roger could tell that Neville had already made up his mind—he just wasn't ready to admit it to himself. Hesitating over major decisions was human nature, whether it was checking grades, confessing feelings, or choosing a path in life.
Considering their backgrounds and the knowledge he had, Roger nodded. He was beginning to understand how things were falling into place.
The train finally arrived at its destination. The first-years, now dressed in their Hogwarts uniforms, poured out of the carriages in a flood of excitement and anticipation. Though their robes were enchanted with temperature-regulating magic, the chill of the night air still bit at their skin.
The students naturally split into two groups. The older students proceeded toward the main gates of Hogwarts, while the first-years had a different route to take.
"First-years! First-years over here! Harry, over here, are you alright?"
A towering figure called out over the crowd, his voice warm and inviting. A bespectacled boy stepped toward him hesitantly. Roger recognized the half-giant immediately—Hagrid, Dumbledore's trusted ally.
"Come on, follow me! Are there any more first-years? Watch your step, alright? First-years, follow me!"
As per tradition, all first-year students were required to retrace the journey of the four founders. The path led through a steep, narrow trail into the darkness of the Forbidden Forest. At the end of the road, Hogwarts loomed—an imposing castle built upon a mountain, its grand silhouette illuminated against the night sky. In front of it lay a vast, bottomless lake, its waters eerily still.
Rows of small boats floated along the shoreline, waiting to ferry the students across. It was said that the four founders themselves had once crossed these very waters when establishing the school.
"No more than four per boat!" Hagrid instructed, gesturing toward the vessels.
Through the forest, across the lake, up a rocky tunnel, and finally onto damp grass—they had arrived. A flight of stone steps led them to the castle's entrance, where a massive oak door loomed before them. Hagrid knocked three times.
The door swung open, revealing a familiar face—Professor McGonagall, standing tall in her emerald-green robes. After exchanging a few words with Hagrid, she cast a scrutinizing glance over the group, her gaze lingering on Roger for a brief moment before she turned away.
She led the first-years deeper into the castle, her voice crisp as she explained the Sorting process.
Roger's thoughts raced.
"Huh?"
He was sure he remembered this scene differently. Something was missing. Wasn't there supposed to be a dramatic first encounter between Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter?
As he walked through the grand halls of Hogwarts, Roger couldn't shake the feeling that this world wasn't quite as he remembered it.
Could it be that fate had already shifted?
The moment Roger laid eyes on the Sorting Hat, he forced himself to suppress his surprise. He knew that his true test was about to begin.
The Sorting Hat possessed the ability to peer into one's mind and heart—an aspect that demanded his utmost caution. If anything went wrong at this stage, the consequences could be far worse than imprisonment in Azkaban.
For Roger, the exposure of future knowledge wasn't a concern—everyone already knew he was a seer. Even if the fact that he had returned from the dead came to light, it wouldn't be catastrophic. Magic had its mysteries, and among wizards, physical death did not always mean absolute demise.
However, there was one secret he could never afford to reveal—that he was a soul from another world. If that truth surfaced, who knew what chaos would unfold?
Fortunately, Roger had a plan.
Occlumency? That was one possibility, but it was too conspicuous. Besides, at this stage, he had no way to learn such an advanced skill. Instead, he relied on a simpler approach. The Sorting Hat, for all its wisdom, couldn't possibly scan every memory in a person's mind. Many wizards harbored secrets they wished to keep hidden—if the Hat were truly omniscient, someone would have destroyed it long ago.
Instead, it seemed to function by reading a person's current thoughts and assessing their personality based on magical disturbances and mental fluctuations.
That, Roger could handle.
Once he steeled himself, the Sorting Ceremony commenced under the watchful eyes of the entire school—students and professors alike.
One by one, the new students stepped forward, their names called in alphabetical order. The moment of truth was upon him.
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