"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall.
Her voice was calm, precise, and carried effortlessly across the antechamber. "The start-of-term feast will begin shortly. However, before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you must first be sorted into your respective Houses.
"The Sorting is a very important ceremony. While you are here, your House will be like your home at Hogwarts."
She went on to explain the four Houses and the House Cup, her tone formal but not unkind. As she turned to leave, she paused and added, "In a few minutes, the Sorting Ceremony will take place in front of the entire school. I advise you to smarten yourselves up a bit while you wait."
Her sharp gaze lingered on Robert for a brief moment. For just an instant, the strictness in her expression softened.
It suits him well…
"The Sorting Ceremony—oh my God, I heard we have to wrestle a dragon!"
A black-haired young wizard whispered this to his companion, his voice trembling despite his attempt at bravado.
"Ah?! We have to wrestle a dragon?!"
The blonde young witch beside him looked as though she might burst into tears at any second.
"No way! All I've learned is Lumos!"
The words spread like wildfire, instantly throwing the group of little wizards into chaos.
"A dragon?! An adult one or a baby one?!"
"Anthony, why are you being so meticulous right now? Even a baby dragon could incinerate us in one breath!"
"We're doomed!"
The little wizards accepted the rumor with alarming ease. Judging by their reactions, it was clear that their families had done an excellent job of instilling both respect and fear for the dangers of the magical world.
Amid the groans, gasps, and whispered panic, Robert remained completely absorbed in his book.
It was the only book he had brought with him.
Although magic defied logic and did not obey rules like the conservation of mass, it had existed for far too long to be entirely without structure. Even if most wizards were fools, generations of practice should have produced at least a few reliable patterns.
Among the many books that cost two Galleons, this one—Magic Theory—had impressed Robert the most.
Spellcasting, Transfiguration, Potions—every branch of magic seemed to have some form of explanation within its pages. Robert believed it to be the most underrated book on the entire first-year reading list.
He was reading it for the third time, and each rereading brought new insights.
Magic Power is inherent to the wizard himself. The strength of magical power depends on the wizard's emotions or mental energy. However, most wizards cannot control their magic autonomously. Thus, they require the guidance of spells and wands, allowing magical power to be consciously manipulated to achieve a desired goal.
Robert understood this point clearly.
Harry was a perfect example. Before learning magic formally, he had once found himself on a chimney without knowing how he got there. He had made glass vanish at a zoo. Yet such feats only occurred during moments of intense emotion, and Harry had no idea how to reproduce them at will.
With a wand and proper mastery of spells, however, a wizard could exert control over magical power to a remarkable degree.
After two months of research, Robert found himself agreeing with a theory from his previous life: the wizards of the Harry Potter world were, in essence, bloodline wizards. Their power originated from inherited bloodlines capable of interacting with magic itself.
He continued reading.
One truth of learning magic is mastering as many spells as possible, including ancient spells. The more spells you know, the more you can accomplish. Another truth is that after mastering a spell, you must practice continuously until proficiency is achieved. There is a vast difference between casting skillfully and casting clumsily. Finally, to unleash a spell's maximum power, sufficient mental energy is required.
It was a remarkably concise explanation.
No wonder the author, Adebei Wolf Lin, dared to title the book Magic Theory. From the name alone, it was clear that this work occupied the same status as theoretical mathematics or basic physics in Robert's previous world.
Those books had once robbed him of much happiness—much like Dementors in the magical world.
Read them once, and joy quietly slipped away.
"I… I kind of believe the dragon thing now."
Hermione's face had gone pale. The little wizards' increasingly vivid discussion made the rumor feel disturbingly real. For someone new to the magical world, it was more than enough to inspire dread.
She glanced at Robert. He appeared completely unfazed, still reading as though dragons were no more concerning than footnotes.
"Why don't we ask Robert?" someone whispered. "He doesn't look scared at all."
Justin, trembling slightly, recalled the equestrian test he had once taken at Eton College.
Maybe wizards really are expected to defeat dragons, he thought.
Is this some kind of glorious tradition?
Wizards were terrifying.
"Robert, sorry to interrupt, but—"
Before Justin could finish, the massive doors of the Great Hall burst open.
The Sorting Ceremony had begun.
Robert closed Magic Theory and slipped it away. As the students began moving forward, he cast a glance toward the ancient Sorting Hat resting on its stool.
The hat was said to listen to the wishes of the wearer.
That meant choosing a House mattered.
Gryffindor?
No. That wouldn't do.
His primary goal at Hogwarts was simple: secure a scholarship.
If one achieved straight Os, the most likely competitors would be Hermione and Percy. In the original story, however, both had faced resistance within Gryffindor itself.
Hermione, in her first year, had been ostracized merely for excelling in class and pointing out mistakes, eventually reduced to crying alone in a bathroom.
Most Gryffindors possessed a mindset that could be summarized as: No matter my current skill level, I will never accept being beneath others for long.
They were brave adventurers—but they often hurt people without realizing it.
During the Chamber of Secrets incident, rumors alone had been enough to isolate Harry.
Then there was Slytherin.
Robert had no patience for scheming. That time would be better spent grinding the Levitation Charm until he could cast it nonverbally.
That left Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.
Both seemed acceptable, but Robert leaned decisively toward Hufflepuff.
Two steps out of the dormitory and free food?
Incredible.
Hufflepuff was harmonious. It rarely turned inward with cruelty, yet stood united against outsiders. Even J.K. Rowling herself had once said she wished all children were Hufflepuffs.
A warm fireplace. A kitchen just outside the common room. A Head of House who might scold you fiercely for causing trouble—then secretly send you a box of coconut ice cream afterward.
Robert felt the urge to shout:
We are from the forest. We bear great love. We are loyal to nature. Upright and faithful. Resilient and honest. We fear no hardship.
—We are Hufflepuff!
"Harry Potter!"
At Professor McGonagall's announcement, the Great Hall quieted instantly.
Robert heard whispers ripple through the crowd.
"It's him."
"Harry Potter."
Harry walked forward, placed the wrinkled Sorting Hat on his head, and stood perfectly still.
The silence stretched on.
Four minutes.
Five.
In Robert's mind, the Sorting Hat's song had already reached its second verse.
"Gryffindor!"
Cheers erupted.
"Potter!"
"We've got Potter!"
The Gryffindor table roared with triumph, the sound echoing through the hall.
Soon after—
"Robert Green!"