Chapter 11 - Hogwarts: My Classmate-Chapter 11: The Tower

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Don't copy the protagonist if you don't have protagonist luck. —Hofa Bach

He wanted to cry. Damn it, his situation was already terrible—and now this. What happened to respecting his choice? The Sorting Hat clearly didn't give a damn about his preference!

After the Hat decided:

Faint applause came from the second table on the left. Much quieter than when Tom Riddle sat down. Probably the lowest applause in history.

The clapping carried relief too. He'd dragged on forever. Everyone's stomachs were growling.

The moment Hofa reached Ravenclaw's table, he felt a blade-like stare.

Corner seat. Aglaia sat with folded arms. Her blue ghost-eyes held nothing but ice and fury.

Done was done. Hofa didn't want to deal with her. He found the diagonal corner. Sat as far from Aglaia as possible.

Shortly after, Miranda sat on the stool. One difference—Deputy Headmaster Goshawk personally placed the hat on her head. No attempt to avoid favoritism.

The hat shouted Ravenclaw quickly. She joined Ravenclaw too.

Miranda removed the hat calmly and sat across from Hofa. "Looks like we're classmates."

"Yeah."

Seeing Miranda helped. At least not everyone here was like Aglaia. Just keep distance.

Thirty minutes later, Sorting ended.

Professor Goshawk put away the parchment. Tapped the stool with his wand.

Stool and hat vanished.

He returned to the staff table.

Hofa was starving. He'd only eaten snacks today. Everyone else too. Growling stomachs everywhere.

But it wasn't over. Center of the staff table—Headmaster Armando Dippet stood.

The moment he rose, flames blazed. The hall lit up brilliantly.

(What a showoff, Hofa thought.)

His sinister gaze swept the room. He coughed. Said sternly:

"First, the standing rules. Caught wandering at night—immediate observation. Second offense—expulsion. Enter the Forbidden Forest—wand destroyed, expelled. Keep unauthorized creatures—one month labor..."

Armando droned on for ten minutes. Rules. Rules. Rules.

"Good lord..."

Hofa covered his face. Why 1938? Compared to Dumbledore's era, this Hogwarts was a military academy.

Finally, rules ended.

Dippet coughed twice. "This year brings changes. European magical tensions mean the Ministry established a transport point in the grounds. Sixth-years and above may get approval for Auror training in designated areas."

The old headmaster sat.

Uniform applause erupted.

Hofa clapped along. Understanding Hogwarts' state better now.

Made sense it was strict. World War II approaching. In Harry's era, the world was peaceful. You could coast. School could relax.

But now? Coasting wasn't waiting for death—it was courting it.

After applause, a chime rang.

Food appeared on Hofa's plate.

Appetizers. Oysters. Crab. Foie gras. Fruit compote. Russian caviar. Fresh juices.

Hofa copied older students. Took a bit of everything.

Exquisite taste. Appetite-stimulating.

Minutes later, food vanished.

Main courses appeared. Roast beef. Lamb chops. Pork chops. London broil. Chicken wings. Cauliflower in cream. Lobster. Cabbage. Mashed potatoes. Croissants. Muffins...

Too many to count. British cooking was supposedly terrible, but this opened his eyes. Hogwarts' house-elves were probably imported.

After eating started, the serious atmosphere faded. People chatted and laughed.

Hofa ate while listening to older students. Quidditch to national affairs. Gossip to wizarding celebrities.

Eating with relish. Listening with relish.

These Ravenclaw seniors spoke with real insight. Truly the wisest house.

Ghosts emerged from castle corners. Hofa didn't see Peeves. Saw a female ghost in robes instead. Beautiful. Wearing a crown. She floated past Ravenclaw's table, elegantly greeting others.

Helena Ravenclaw. Founder Rowena's daughter.

The Grey Lady.

Hogwarts' prettiest ghost.

Ravenclaw's not bad, Hofa thought, cutting lamb.

After main courses—soups. Mushroom chicken. Cream of tomato. French onion. Oxtail.

Hofa regretted stuffing himself earlier.

Students ate heartily. Staff table professors stayed reserved. Halfway through, Headmaster Dippet left. Deputy Goshawk followed. Both looked serious. Something to discuss.

Hofa asked Miranda, "What does your grandfather teach?"

Miranda sipped juice. "Head of Ravenclaw. Teaches Charms. Warning—never contradict him in class."

Head of Ravenclaw. Hofa was speechless.

Stricter than McGonagall. Rough times ahead.

After soup—desserts.

Jelly. Crème brûlée. Apple tart. Mousse. Rum ice cream.

Hofa was stuffed. Barely managed rum ice cream. Next feast—show restraint.

After dinner, a familiar figure stood at the staff table.

Young Dumbledore.

Students applauded enthusiastically.

Far more genuine than for Dippet. Dumbledore's popularity was always high.

Dumbledore tapped his glass. Smiled. "Prefects will lead you back shortly. But first—one important matter."

All four houses clapped and laughed. "Sing! Sing!"

Gryffindor most enthusiastic. Ravenclaw smiled too.

Miranda whispered, "Greatest Transfiguration teacher ever. Can transform into hundreds of animals."

Hofa was surprised. "Really?"

"Of course. He helped draft Animagus legislation." An older student answered.

Dumbledore waved his wand.

Juice in cups exploded into streamers.

Students about to drink got faces full. Laughter erupted.

Dumbledore: "Ready! Sing!"

Everyone sang the school song together.

Hofa didn't know the words. Swayed along. Tapped his feet.

After singing, atmosphere peaked.

Dumbledore spread his arms. Said loudly through applause, "Remember—even in darkness, magic and music keep us company."

Feast ended. Four prefects led students out toward common rooms.

Hofa knew Gryffindor's room best. Probably better than veterans. But Ravenclaw's? No clue.

Their prefect—an old acquaintance.

Filius Flitwick.

Hofa recognized him instantly. Called his name. Startled the small prefect.

Clean-shaven now. No beard. Handsome. About Indor's height. Decades later—Head of Ravenclaw. Taught Harry Potter. Good-tempered man.

Flitwick explained Ravenclaw history while walking.

"Our house—founded by Rowena Ravenclaw. Represents wind. Symbol is the eagle. Eagles don't nest low. If anyone has trouble with stairs, visit the hospital wing first."

Light laughter.

Soon they couldn't laugh.

Hofa followed Flitwick higher and higher. Magical staircases constantly shifted. Helping them ascend.

Finally, top of Ravenclaw Tower. Some acrophobic first-years didn't dare look down. Only scattered lights below.

Hofa estimated 300+ meters high. Just looking made him dizzy. Without stairs—who knew how long it'd take?

Flitwick smiled. "Ravenclaw Rule One: Don't throw things off the tower."

Nervous laughter.

Flitwick led them across a narrow aerial bridge. They reached a huge knight portrait.

The armored knight bent down. Beside it—eagle statue on bronze ring.

The eagle spread blue metal wings. Asked a riddle.

Flitwick stepped aside. "Ravenclaw has no password. Answer the statue's question to enter."

First-years pondered.

Light laughter. Silver-haired Aglaia said proudly, "Too easy. Water."

Students showed understanding and admiration.

Flitwick snapped his fingers.

"Correct. Pity I can't award points."

Metal eagle closed wings.

Knight straightened. Portrait opened. Blue corridor behind.

Hofa sighed. He saw Hermione's shadow in her.

Both smart and proud.

Inside—large circular room. Soft cushions. Few chairs.

Elegant arched windows. Blue and bronze silk fluttering. Through windows—brilliant stars. Distant misty mountains. Wind through clouds. Quiet. Peaceful.

Domed ceiling with stars. Deep blue carpet with stars. Tables. Chairs. Bookshelves. White marble bust of Rowena Ravenclaw. Door beside it led to dormitories.

Very quiet.

Older students sat cross-legged. Reading. Playing chess. Meditating.

Seeing first-years, seniors nodded briefly. Continued activities.

Hofa walked to the window. Gazed at stars. Leaned on railing. Breeze carried honeysuckle fragrance. Suddenly, Milarepa's meditation activated automatically.

He didn't resist. Sat on a cushion. Began meditating.

Maybe the Hat made the right choice.

Between breaths, fingers curled into strange positions.

His consciousness spread like spider web throughout the tower. Limited to common room. When he tried extending outside—only darkness. Insufficient mental strength? Or magic blocking?

Time passed unnoticed. When he finished, most had left.

Two remained.

Miranda sat by bookshelf. Reading by magical light.

Aglaia sat in chair. Writing. Dense text on parchment.

Seeing Hofa rise, Aglaia glanced coldly. Smirked.

Miranda closed her book. Stood with Hofa.

They walked to the fork between dorms.

Miranda asked quietly, "Did you offend Aglaia?"

Hofa muttered, "If running away counts—yes."

Miranda laughed softly. "Then you're in for it. Veela are vengeful."

"What?" Hofa was shocked. "She's Veela?"

"Not pure. But definitely has Veela blood. Deraseth is French. Like you in that way."

She said goodnight. Entered girls' dorm.

Hofa entered boys' dorm.

Top of tower. Four four-poster beds. Roommates asleep.

Deep blue velvet curtains. His backpack beside bed.

Hofa undressed. Climbed in. One small doubt nagged him.

Why didn't that silver-haired girl go to Beauxbatons? Why come to Britain?

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