A low murmur of voices could be heard through a large door to the right of the entrance hall, but Professor McGonagall didn't lead them toward it just yet.
Instead, she stopped and turned, her sharp eyes scanning the group of wide-eyed first-years.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said.
"In a moment, you will enter the Great Hall and take part in the Sorting Ceremony. This ceremony will determine which House you will be placed into. Your House will be like your family here at school for the next seven years. You will take classes with your Housemates, sleep in the same dormitories, and share meals together. I hope you learn to treat one another like family."
She began to pace slightly, her voice calm but firm.
"Hogwarts has four Houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has a rich history and has produced many outstanding witches and wizards."
Her eyes paused briefly on Draco Malfoy, whose appearance still hadn't recovered. Though the spell effects had faded, he looked utterly miserable. His eyes were puffy and red, his robe was wrinkled and crooked, and his face looked like he'd gone through a duel with a troll and lost.
Professor McGonagall gave Peter a long, hard stare.
"I am aware that something… unpleasant happened on the train today," she said slowly, her tone growing sharper. "Let me be clear. I hope that will be the last such incident. Once you are sorted, your actions—good and bad—will affect your House. Good behavior and achievements will earn your House points. Breaking rules will cost points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points wins the House Cup, a great honor. I trust all of you will take this seriously and do your best to uphold your House's reputation."
Peter stood straight, his expression calm and innocent, as if he had no idea what she was referring to. McGonagall's eye twitched slightly, but she said no more.
"The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin. I suggest you straighten your robes and tidy yourselves. The entire school will be watching you."
With that, she turned crisply and disappeared through the great double doors into the Great Hall.
As soon as she left, a collective gasp passed through the crowd of first-years.
Even the bravest of them were now nervously fidgeting. Some patted their hair in place, others checked their robes. Ron looked like he might throw up. Hermione was mouthing a few lines to herself, as if rehearsing a speech. Harry kept wiping his palms on his robes.
Peter, however, remained relaxed.
He glanced at the large door that led to the Great Hall and smiled slightly.
It was time.
Draco Malfoy frantically combed through his blond hair, tugging at his robes and trying to straighten them out with forced composure.
Harry and Ron weren't doing much better. They anxiously scratched at each other's hair, both looking slightly panicked. Hermione pressed her lips together and gently tidied the smooth locks that now hung neatly at her shoulders, doing her best to stay calm.
Around them, the other first-years were hurriedly fixing their appearances, their nerves evident in every movement.
But just as the tension was beginning to settle, a loud shriek broke the silence.
A gasp rippled through the group as more than twenty ghosts drifted straight through the far wall. Some were tall and gliding gracefully; others were short, transparent, and oddly shaped. They floated among the first-years, whispering among themselves in hushed, echoing voices. A few looked serene and welcoming, while others wore expressions of impatience or frustration. One particularly excitable ghost in a ruffled collar waved enthusiastically at the students, clearly trying to make conversation.
Nobody replied. The entire group had gone stiff and silent, holding their breath as if sound might summon something worse.
Peter Weasley, however, watched them with mild interest.
He had always wondered, back when he was reading the books in his previous life, what the actual mechanism behind ghosts was. What kind of magical imprint caused a soul to remain behind like this? It was a question worth exploring—but not right now.
The ghosts soon drifted away toward the ceiling just as Professor McGonagall returned. She glanced at the still-frozen group of first-years and clapped her hands for attention.
"Everything is ready," she said. "Line up in a single file and follow me."
The group scrambled to obey, forming a shaky line. The heavy doors to the Great Hall swung wide open, and a warm golden glow poured out from within.
The moment they stepped inside, the sight took their breath away.
Four long tables stretched the length of the room, packed with students wearing black robes and brightly colored ties. Candles floated serenely in midair, casting a soft glow across the enchanted ceiling above, which mirrored the night sky outside. Stars twinkled in the vast darkness overhead.
A path between the tables led straight to a raised platform at the far end of the hall, where the teachers were seated at another long table. At the center of the platform sat the Sorting Hat, looking old and tattered atop a small wooden stool.
As the first-years walked nervously down the aisle, whispers and curious eyes followed them from all directions.
Peter, calm as ever, glanced around and quickly spotted familiar faces at the Gryffindor table. Percy gave him a nod of approval. Fred and George were grinning from ear to ear and waving like lunatics at him and Ron, who looked as if he might faint.
"Look at all of them," Ron muttered, barely moving his lips. "Feels like we're marching into battle."
Peter gave him a sidelong glance and whispered, "At least no one's throwing hexes."
That didn't seem to comfort Ron at all.
Peter smiled back, but Ron was so nervous he didn't even notice.
The ceiling of the auditorium, as Peter already knew, mirrored the starry night sky above, casting a soft, peaceful glow down onto the students below.
At the front of the hall sat a tattered old hat on a stool. As the first years gathered, it suddenly sprang to life and began to sing.
Peter remained expressionless. He discreetly cast a spell to block his hearing, not particularly interested in the hat's theatrics, and waited patiently for the performance to end. Once Professor McGonagall stepped forward and unrolled the long parchment in her hand, he silently released the spell.
"Hannah Abbott!"
Hmm, a familiar name...
One by one, the new students were called forward. They each sat on the stool, had the Sorting Hat placed on their head, and after a brief moment of contemplation, were sorted into one of the four houses.
Of the students Peter recognized, Hermione was called up first. She hurried to the stool, the Sorting Hat dropped over her head, and after a short pause, it shouted, just as he expected:
"Gryffindor!"
Next came Harry, who also joined Gryffindor. The moment the Sorting Hat made its announcement, the Gryffindor table erupted with cheers and applause.
Peter's gaze drifted toward the staff table. Professor Snape wore a severe expression, his face set like stone. Dumbledore, on the other hand, sat with his hands gently folded and a twinkle behind his crescent-shaped glasses. He looked sincerely pleased, like everything was unfolding exactly as planned.
Peter allowed himself a quiet smile.
The story of the Boy Who Lived truly began at this moment. The most powerful forces in the magical world would soon begin to circle around him, fighting openly and in the shadows. And Peter? He was more than happy to stand nearby and observe it all unfold.
Time passed slowly as the Sorting continued, and finally, they reached the letter "W".
Ron was called up first from the Weasley family, his nervous legs nearly tangling as he stumbled toward the Sorting Hat.
The moment it touched his head, the hat shouted, "Gryffindor!"
Clap, clap, clap—
The Gryffindor table erupted in thunderous applause. Percy puffed out his chest and proudly told those around him, "That's my brother!"
Fred and George stood up on the bench, howling and whistling like madmen.
Then came the name: "Peter Weasley!"
This time, Fred and George nearly flipped the table with excitement.
"Peter! Peter!"
"Gryffindor! Gryffindor!"
Their contagious enthusiasm spread across the Gryffindor table, and the older students began laughing and joining the chant.
Amid the noise, Peter walked calmly to the Sorting Hat, his expression unreadable, his Occlumency shielding any emotion. He moved with grace and confidence, and as he sat on the stool, he sighed inwardly:
"Sorry, Fred. Sorry, George."
Over the years, Peter had come to know himself very well. His thirst for knowledge, his relentless pursuit of strength, his quiet ambition for power… there was no way he could ever truly belong in Gryffindor.
The moment the Sorting Hat settled over his head, a voice whispered slyly in his ear:
"Well now—very advanced Occlumency, isn't it? But you can't hide everything from me. I contain the distilled wisdom of the Four Founders, you know. And people who master Occlumency at your age… usually have very deep secrets."
"You're an interesting one. Clearly, there are two Houses that don't suit you at all. You belong in—"
"Slytherin!"
The jubilant cheer rising from the Gryffindor table came to a sudden, screeching halt.
Percy, who had just started to rise proudly from his seat, froze in place. Fred and George, mid-celebration, tumbled down from the bench in shock. Hermione gasped and covered her mouth, while Harry and Ron both stared, wide-eyed and stunned.
Even Professor McGonagall, who had heard about Peter before, instinctively turned her head toward the head table, looking to Dumbledore.
And the greatest wizard of the age sat silent, his cheerful expression gone. He watched Peter's retreating back with furrowed brows and a glint of calculation in his eyes.
For a long moment, the Great Hall was completely silent.
Then Dumbledore cleared his throat, a subtle signal for Professor McGonagall to proceed.
Snapping out of her daze, she quickly removed the Sorting Hat from Peter's head.
Around him, the whispers began to stir again—first soft and scattered, then swelling into an audible buzz. Students pointed, nudged each other, and murmured about the red-haired boy who bore the Weasley name but wore green and silver.
Peter ignored them all.
He only had eyes for the glowing blue panel that appeared before him:
[Main Quest ①: Join Hogwarts — Completed][Reward: 1 Talent Point, 50 Magic Points][Claim Reward? — Yes / No]
He smirked to himself.