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The air was thick with a silent anticipation. Alister walked toward the stool with a measured, confident stride. He sat down, and Professor McGonagall gently placed the old, frayed hat on his head. The brim of the hat fell over his eyes, plunging him into a profound, suffocating darkness.
A voice, old and wise, echoed in his mind. "What's going on? Why can't I read anything about you?" The voice was a blend of confusion and alarm, a powerful being baffled by the boy it was meant to sort.
Alister understood instantly. The Hat was trying to read his mind, but his Tier 3 magical power and his connection to the World Core had made his mind an impenetrable fortress. The Hat's magic, while ancient and powerful, was not enough to penetrate the raw, unrefined energy of his core.
System, he commanded silently, filter my memory. Show the Hat what it needs to see. Nothing more.
A moment later, a new voice, the Hat's voice, sounded in his mind again, this time with a profound sense of relief. "Finally! I can see!"
The Hat's voice then began to analyze his mind, listing his qualities in a way that felt both professional and profoundly personal. "I see a thirst for knowledge, a mind as sharp as any Ravenclaw's. I see a profound courage, a willingness to face danger that would put any Gryffindor to shame. I see a drive to do anything succeed, a terrifying ambition that would make any Slytherin proud."
Alister's mind absorbed the information. He was a perfect fit for three of the four houses. But he had to know. "What about Hufflepuff?" he asked silently.
The Hat's voice, which had been so sure and confident, now held a note of profound, almost mournful, certainty. "Hufflepuff? No. How can the simple, loyal, and unambitious Hufflepuff accommodate your terrifying ambition of changing the whole world?"
The voice fell silent for a moment, and when it returned, it was a new sound, a sound of finality. "Now that I see things, your ambition far outclasses any other qualities you have. You have the cleverness of a Slytherin, the bravery of a Gryffindor, and the mind of a Ravenclaw, but they are all fueled by your terrifying ambition. But I give the final choice to you. Where do you wish to be?"
Alister's mind, weighed the options. The Hat had given him a choice, and his choice would determine his path.
Ravenclaw: A path of knowledge. Alister's perfect memory and the System's processing power rendered this a redundant option. He only needed access to the books, and as he had learned, professors couldn't deny a student from another house any help related to studies. He didn't need to be in the house of knowledge to acquire it. Ravenclaw was out.
Gryffindor: A path of a hero, a public figure, a leader. Alister knew that for what he was about to do, fame would find its way to him, but he didn't need to seek it out. Fame was just a liability for him, not an asset. Gryffindor was out.
Slytherin: A path of power and cunning. The Hat's words had sealed it. The house for those who would do anything to achieve their goals. For him, who had outclassed every student in his knowledge and magical potential, the house would be a perfect fit. He would like a lion among herd for those who followed and obeyed the strong. The house was also the collection of influential families in the wizarding world, a place where he could get all the tools he needed in his endeavor.
His choice was clear. It was the only logical choice, the only path that led to his true goal.
"SLYTHERIN!" the hat roared to the silent hall.
The silence in the hall was broken by a sudden, calculating roar of applause. The Slytherin table, a sea of green and silver, erupted in a cold, measured cheer. Alister walked toward his new house, his steps measured and confident.
He slid into a seat at the end of the table. The other students were a mix of curiosity and cold calculation. They weren't cheering for him; they were cheering for the name Potter, for the time Sorting Hat had spent on his sorting.
A boy with stupid eyes leaned across the table. "A Potter," the boy said, his voice a low, lazy drawl. "In Slytherin. My father said a Potter would never be sorted here."
Alister looked at him, his gaze unwavering.
The boy leaned in closer. "My name is Enzo nott. I take it we will be seeing a lot of each other."
Alister's mind, ran a quick analysis. Nott. Family of Death Eater. A pure-blood. A valuable resource. He saw the boy not as a friend, but as a tool.
"We will," Alister replied, a flicker of a smile on his face. "I'm sure we'll have much to talk about."
The noise of the Great Hall returned to a dull roar. Alister sat at the Slytherin table. He sat without a word, his gaze fixed on the head table. At the center of it all, a man with a long, flowing white beard and a kind, intelligent gaze was seated.
The man rose, his presence silencing the entire hall. His voice, though soft, carried an immense authority. "I welcome you all to Hogwarts! I hope your year is filled with a sense of wonder and learning. Now, before we all eat, a few words. To the first years, a few reminders. The Forbidden Forest is, as its name implies, forbidden."
System, he thought, his question a silent command. Identify the old man at the head table. Assess his power.
The System's mechanical voice was immediate and final.
[Analysis of Magical Being: Albus Dumbledore]
[Identity: Albus Dumbledore. Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.]
[Magical Tier: Tier 3 (Arch-Magus)]
[Assessment: Dumbledore's magical power is at the absolute pinnacle of this world's current capabilities. He is a genius of incredible scope and a wizard of immense power. His power is limited by the current magical state of the world.]
Alister's eyes widened, a flicker of genuine shock passing over his face. He really didn't expect to meet a wizard of this level so soon.
Soon, the feast began with a magnificent spread of food appearing on the golden plates. The Slytherin table was filled with roasts, potatoes, vegetables, and puddings. Alister, with his heightened senses, was able to discern the rich aromas of the food as well as the unique magical energy that infused the hall itself.
The hall was a cacophony of sound. The clatter of silverware on plates, the low murmur of conversation, and the occasional burst of loud laughter from the Gryffindor table filled the air. He observed his fellow Slytherins, a mix of first-years and older students. Some ate with refined manners, while others were less concerned with etiquette. Their conversations were a mix of gossip, talk of their families, and ambitious whispers about their classes and future.
He glanced at the head table again. Dumbledore was speaking to a stern-looking professor with a long, hooked nose, who appeared to be the head of their house, who was at tier 2.
Soon, the last morsel of food vanished from the golden plates, and with a final, booming announcement from Dumbledore, the Great Hall emptied. The first-year Slytherins were led by an older student, a prefect, through a maze of corridors and up a flight of stairs that seemed to shift with every step. Alister, with his mind, committed the layout to memory, the twists and turns of the castle becoming a familiar map in his head.
They came to a stop in front of a portrait of a stern-looking man in a suit of armor. The man seemed to be pacing, his eyes darting around the hallway. The prefect said a single word: "Power." The painting swung open, revealing a hidden passageway.
The prefect led them into the Slytherin common room, a vast, circular chamber with high ceilings and a roaring fireplace. The room was bathed in a green, watery light, and a faint, salty smell hung in the air.
Alister was handed a key to his assigned room. He walked into a spartan chamber with two beds and a small window that looked out onto the bottom of the lake. His roommate was already there, it was the boy with Stupid eyes, Enzo nott.
Alister ignored his roommate and turned to his bed. On his nightstand, a small, handwritten note school schedule was placed. His first class was Transfiguration in the morning, a course whose basics he had already mastered, and the second was Potions in the evening, the course he is most excited about as from what he had read, he has high expectations from this field which he had yet to begin with.
He lay in bed, and fell asleep while contemplating about his future.
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Alister's eyes snapped open to the sight of a faint, greenish light filtering through his window. The hum of the lake outside was a soothing, constant sound. He lay still for a moment. He looked at his roommate, Enzo Nott. He was still asleep.
Alister got up, his movements silent and precise. He got dressed in his school uniform, a simple, black robe that hung loosely on his frame. He checked his pockets, ensuring his wand, his money, and his school schedule were all in place. He was ready.
He left the room, leaving Theodore to his slumber, and made his way to the common room. It was empty, a quiet, peaceful chamber, a stark contrast to the chaos of the Great Hall. He walked out of the common room, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the silent, empty corridors. He made his way to the Great Hall, processing every detail of the castle.
He arrived at the Great Hall, which was bathed in the warm, golden light of the morning. The hall was filled with students, their faces a mix of sleepy exhaustion and quiet anticipation. He sat at the Slytherin table, his gaze fixed on the head table, where the teachers, his new masters, were already seated. He ate his breakfast.
The walk to the Transfiguration classroom was a winding, confusing journey through the castle's ever-shifting staircases. Alister, with his mind, had already committed the layout to memory, but the stairs seemed to have a will of their own, twisting and turning in a way that would have made an ordinary person dizzy. He arrived at his classroom, a large, open chamber with a high ceiling and a small blackboard, just as the rest of the class was beginning to arrive.
He walked to the back of the classroom and took a seat at the end of a long table, his gaze fixed on a small, tabby cat sitting on the teacher's desk. The cat's eyes were sharp and intelligent, and a powerful hum of magic emanated from its small body. This was no ordinary cat.
He noticed that the class was a joint one, a mix of Slytherin and Ravenclaw. A few moments later, the seat beside him was occupied by Cho Chang, her face a mix of excitement and anticipation. "Alister! I'm glad I found you," she said, her voice a hushed whisper. "This is my first class. It's so exciting!"
Alister gave her a curt nod, his gaze still fixed on the cat. Cho, however, was undeterred. She began to talk about her experience at Ravenclaw, her voice a low, excited murmur. She told him about the common room, the students, and the strange, quirky riddles they had to solve just to get in. She spoke with a kind of innocent wonder.
while talking, she stood up to get her hand to pet the cat on the teacher's desk.
"I won't be doing that, If I were you," Alister said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. Cho, startled, pulled her hand back, her face a mixture of confusion.
Soon, it was time for class to start. The cat on the teacher's desk, which had been a placid, harmless creature a moment ago, now looked at them with a cold, piercing intelligence.
A flicker of a smile passed over its face, and then, in a silent, seamless motion, its body began to elongate, its bones twisting and turning, its fur receding, its form shifting. A moment later, a tall, stern-looking woman in a long, emerald-green robe stood in its place. She was Professor McGonagall.
Alister had an amused expression on his face as he watched cho breathing a sigh of relief.
She looked at the stunned faces of her students, and a faint smile touched her lips. "It's good that no one is late on the first day," she said, her voice crisp and clear. "My name is Professor McGonagall, and I am your Transfiguration teacher."
She walked to the blackboard and, with a flick of her wand, a long, ornate book appeared on it, its pages turning silently. "Transfiguration is a complex and dangerous branch of magic," she said, her voice filled with a stern authority. "It is the art of changing everything, and if done incorrectly, the results can be... disastrous."