"Alright, kids! The opening banquet is waiting for you!"
Hagrid clapped his hands, rousing the crowd of dazed young witches and wizards. He pointed to the shore. "Hurry up now, and remember, no more than four to a boat!"
A chorus of responses echoed back.
The first-years swarmed toward the Black Lake, a chaotic tide of excitement. Somewhere in the crowd, a child let out a victorious cry, having found their missing toad.
Dawn found an empty boat.
He had barely climbed aboard when two unfamiliar students scrambled in and sat opposite him.
Hermione didn't join them this time. Still stewing over earlier events, she had paired up with Neville and boarded the boat with Harry and Ron.
"Alright! Off we go!"
Once everyone had found their places, Hagrid roared, setting off alone in a boat at the head of the fleet.
The small armada cut through the dark water.
Ripples spread outward in shimmering rings.
Somewhere in the darkness, merfolk were stirred by the commotion, leaping above the water's surface before splashing back down, leaving behind sharp, hoarse cries.
The two children opposite Dawn huddled together, their faces pale, flinching at every splash and shriek.
Dawn, however, lowered his head, eyes narrowing in concentration as he examined the planks of the boat.
These boats required no oars. They were enchanted—or more precisely, crafted as a type of alchemical item—capable of propelling themselves across the lake.
Through the aged wood, Dawn could perceive the magic flowing within the boat's structure.
Unlike the misty magical flows of living beings, nature, potions, and potion ingredients, the magic inside the boat flowed in neat, circuit-like lines. The lines connected at glowing rune symbols, forming nodes where energy pooled and branched out.
Even with the magic restrained into lines, faint, abstract patterns still drifted up and down within them.
Dawn traced the pathways lightly with his finger.
He guessed that this unique flow of magic in alchemical objects stemmed from the fact that they were man-made and composed of non-magical materials.
Dawn had spent a lot of time studying alchemy shops in Diagon Alley.
He had noticed that every enchanted item there had similar structures, though the exact patterns varied greatly.
Moreover, he believed that besides robbing people, he might actually be able to earn enough money to buy Felix Felicis thanks to this ability of his.
Being able to clearly see the runic nodes and magical circuits... it was an almost unfair advantage when it came to replicating alchemical items.
......
After studying the patterns carefully and committing every rune and line to memory, Dawn looked up.
The boats had reached the center of the Black Lake.
"I read in a book that the four founders of Hogwarts crossed the lake by boat when they first arrived! To honor them, every new student must retrace their journey!"
Dawn overheard Hermione enthusiastically explaining this to others on a nearby boat.
It was from the opening chapter of "Hogwarts: A History."
Dawn had read that passage too.
He had always assumed crossing the lake was mostly a symbolic gesture, a tradition steeped more in meaning than in practical need.
But now...
Dawn glanced up at the twinkling sky and found himself thinking very differently.
Beneath the dark canopy of the heavens, countless silvery threads of magic drifted from the young witches and wizards, streaming toward the looming silhouette of Hogwarts Castle like fish returning to the sea.
Dawn tightened his grip on his wand. But worried about affecting his enrollment, he ultimately chose not to interfere.
He speculated.
Was crossing the lake some kind of ritual magic?
Were these threads of magic being drawn out to allow the castle to recognize each new student? Like some kind of contract magic?
Deep in thought, he recalled reading somewhere that "Hogwarts Castle has a consciousness of its own..."
Maybe that was why certain facilities within the castle only opened themselves to students?
Dawn's mind swirled with countless theories.
And the longer he thought about it, the more his thoughts wandered.
He found himself thinking of that piece of enchanted parchment owned by the Weasley twins—the Marauder's Map, capable of displaying the location and names of everyone inside the school...
Could it have such power because it had somehow been linked to the castle's consciousness during its creation? And because the castle had recorded everyone's magical signature?
However.
Dawn remembered.
During the Triwizard Tournament, the map had also worked on visiting students from other schools.
Was it because the moment they entered Hogwarts, the castle recorded their magic in a different way?
The itch of curiosity gnawed at him, making him feel like he might burst. He desperately wished he could fast forward three years just to investigate how the visiting students were recorded.
And besides...
There were other examples.
Like the Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance, which automatically recorded the birth of every magical child in Britain.
They seemed eerily similar in principle.
.......
While these thoughts ran rampant through his mind, the boat slipped through a curtain of ivy draping down from the cliffs and arrived at a subterranean dock.
Dawn shook his head vigorously, forcing himself to focus. There were mysteries he couldn't solve yet.
He climbed out of the boat.
Then, under Hagrid's lead, he trudged up a gravel path, crossed a damp stretch of lawn, and stopped before a massive oak door.
Hagrid knocked three times.
The door swung open soundlessly.
Standing behind it was Professor McGonagall, dressed in emerald robes with her hair tightly pinned up.
She paused for a fraction of a second when her gaze fell on Dawn, then swept a stern look across the disorderly crowd.
Instantly, the noise died away.
Such overwhelming authority, Dawn thought with a trace of admiration.
"First-year students, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said, scratching his wild hair and looking rather bashful.
Professor McGonagall gave him a nod. "Thank you, Hagrid. I will take it from here."
She pulled the door wider and ushered the group into a spacious chamber, explaining the four Hogwarts Houses and the House Cup.
Hermione, hearing this part, shot a glance at Dawn—clearly remembering his points-losing behavior on the train.
When Professor McGonagall finished, she left the room, allowing the first-years to speculate wildly about the Sorting process.
Their guesses were as dramatic as they were wrong—some thought it involved dueling current students, others guessed it would require battling dragons or trolls.
Thus, when they were finally led into the magnificent Great Hall and saw the true instrument of the Sorting—a battered, patched-up, filthy old hat perched on a stool—every single student froze.
Including Dawn.
Of course, he wasn't stunned by the Sorting method itself; he had known about that for a long time.
What shocked him was— The magic flowing from the Sorting Hat was pure mist.
There were no circuits, no structured patterns like the alchemical objects he had studied. Instead, the hat's magic resembled that of living beings or natural magical ingredients.
Dawn stared at the hat, its brim opening into a mouth as it began to sing, utterly bewildered.
His mind raced, recalling everything he knew from the original books.
◇It belonged to Godric Gryffindor, one of the four founders.
◇It had been imbued with the wisdom of all four founders.
◇It could talk.
◇It could read minds to determine the best House for a student.
◇It loved to sing, composing a new song every year.
........
This was no ordinary alchemical item.
It might not be an alchemical item at all.
Dawn felt a heady rush of excitement rising uncontrollably from deep within him.
Once again, he thought Hogwarts was incredible. In just a short time, it had already presented him with so many mysteries.
He licked his dry lips unconsciously.
Honestly, he was starting to look forward to it—
The thrill of peeling back the mist, unraveling every hidden secret, and uncovering the raw, electrifying truths that lay beneath.
______________
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