The young wizards were enjoying their meal, chatting happily.
The professors also exchanged a few words during dinner, fostering camaraderie among colleagues.
Of course, a certain greasy-haired man was an exception.
Snape ate in small bites, most of the time fixing his gaze on the Gryffindor table—or more precisely, pinning it on Harry.
"Minerva, congratulations, that boy joined your Gryffindor," Sprout said to McGonagall with a chuckle.
McGonagall gently set down her knife and fork.
"It seems the Sorting Hat wanted to put Harry in Slytherin."
Shaking her head, she added, as if in passing, "But I heard Harry kept muttering, 'Not Slytherin, not Slytherin…'"
Hearing McGonagall's whisper, Snape's face twitched violently. He spoke slowly, his tone slightly cold.
"He doesn't belong in Slytherin either."
Snape's gaze on Harry only deepened, but Harry never once looked toward the teachers' table, so Snape never saw those emerald eyes.
While Snape sulked to himself, McGonagall had already clinked glasses with Professor Flitwick.
"Filius, I must also congratulate you; Ravenclaw has gained an excellent student."
Filius Flitwick, Head of Ravenclaw, Master of Charms.
"Oh, Minerva, are you referring to the boy named Lucien?"
McGonagall nodded, taking a sip of red wine.
"Yes, I believe you will like this student. His talent, well, it's quite good."
At that moment, McGonagall felt a pang of regret that Lucien hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor.
If Lucien had gone to Gryffindor, perhaps decades later the wizarding world would have seen another great wizard graduate from her House.
Hearing McGonagall's evaluation, Flitwick was very surprised.
He knew his colleague well. Minerva would often praise a student's diligence and commend their effort, but she rarely praised a student's talent so directly and clearly.
This meant Professor McGonagall not only approved of Lucien's attitude toward learning but also greatly admired his magical talent.
Flitwick's curiosity grew even stronger.
"Thank you, Minerva. I will pay more attention to that boy."
Sprout, who was nearby, suddenly turned her head and asked McGonagall,
"I just remembered, isn't Lucien the student who bought a huge pile of books at Flourish and Blotts that day?"
"Yes, Pomona."
"Oh, my, are you alright, Menerva. I remember you very much wanted that boy in your house.."
"..."
"Oh my, he has a lot of books, huh? Hehe, it's good to love reading—truly a student fit for our Ravenclaw." Flitwick chuckled to himself.
"…"
...
At the Ravenclaw table,
Lucien had finished his meal and took a sip of juice.
Looking up, he noticed Hermione watching him, so he raised his glass in a toast from afar.
Caught by Lucien, Hermione quickly lowered her head, then raised her own cup of juice to return the gesture.
She took a sip, hiding her flushed little face—though from that distance, Lucien couldn't see it anyway.
The Asian girl to Lucien's right was suddenly nudged by her roommate, who whispered in her ear,
"Hey, Cho, he's done eating. If you don't talk to him now, I will."
The girl called Cho pushed her roommate aside, her pretty face slightly red.
"I know, I know, don't rush me!"
She shot her roommate a glare, then turned to face Lucien.
"Hello, Grafton, nice to meet you. I'm Cho Chang, I started a year before you."
As Cho introduced herself, a hint of surprise flashed in Lucien's eyes.
This was Cho? She was quite different from her movie portrayal.
The Cho before him was a beautiful girl with classic East Asian features, a cascade of black hair accentuating her fair skin, and a few freckles on her nose that didn't detract from her beauty but instead added a touch of playful charm.
"Hello, Miss Chang, it's a pleasure to meet you. Please call me Lucien."
Lucien gave her a polite, impeccable smile.
Cho smiled faintly in return, revealing pearly white teeth.
"Then you can call me Cho.. ehm.. You've just started; if there's anything you don't understand, you can ask me."
"Mhm, thank you."
Cho's roommate suddenly leaned against her back, resting her chin on Cho's shoulder.
"Hey, hey, 1st year, are you interested in Quidditch? Let me tell you, Cho isn't just a great beauty—she's also our House's Seeker! Want to try joining the team? We're short on players!"
A blush spread across Cho's cheeks.
"Marietta! Who asks someone to join a team right after meeting them? Why don't you join yourself?"
Marietta pressed her cheek against Cho's and said matter-of-factly,
"Boo~ Don't you know my Flying Class grades? Besides, boys are better at sports, right, junior?"
As she spoke, Marietta even winked at Lucien.
"Quidditch sounds interesting, but I never had the chance to try it before."
Lucien sidestepped Marietta's question, but she clearly wasn't letting it go.
"It's great that you're interested! Quidditch is so much fun! If you want to learn later, ask Cho to teach you."
Marietta even pushed Cho forward, nudging her a little closer to Lucien.
Lucien, however, leaned back slightly, maintaining a polite distance.
"Why of course, if there's a chance."
Suddenly, the leftover food on the table vanished with a whoosh, leaving the surface clean and spotless.
Dumbledore's booming voice echoed through the Great Hall:
"Children, the feast is about to end. I have a few announcements.
First, the Forbidden Forest is strictly forbidden to students.
Second… blah blah blah.."
Since they were full and satisfied, the young wizards listened patiently to Dumbledore's speech. It wasn't long, just the usual rules.
"Alright, to conclude the feast, let us sing the school song!"
Dumbledore raised his wand like a conductor's baton, and dancing, ethereal musical notes floated through the air, weaving among the teachers and students.
After the chorus ended, Dumbledore even wiped away tears from the corner of his eye.
"This sight always moves me."
Lucien, watching the scene from below, couldn't help but smile wryly.
He's an old man who's lived for a century, yet his emotions are still so rich.
Well, that makes sense. A large part of magic in this world depends on the wizard's emotions.
Dumbledore himself declared that the most powerful magic in the world is love.
As the strongest wizard of his time, there was nothing wrong with old Dumbledore being so full of emotion.
When he announced the end of the feast, the first-year students were led to their respective common rooms by their prefects.
Ravenclaw's prefect was a tall boy named Robert Hilliard, with golden curly hair and thick-rimmed black glasses. Yet he didn't have a bookish air; instead, he introduced himself to the first-years with a cheerful smile.
"Welcome, everyone, to Ravenclaw. Our House emblem is an eagle, an eagle soaring high in the sky.
I'm not exaggerating when I say our House truly has the smartest witches and wizards… blah blah blah..."
Amid Robert's lively introduction, the first-years arrived at Hogwarts' West Tower.
Climbing the spiral staircase to the very top, they came before an eagle-shaped bronze knocker.
"If five exceptionally intelligent wizards obtain 100 Galleons and propose solutions in order: the first person proposes a distribution plan, then the five vote. The plan passes only if more than half agree; otherwise, he will be thrown into a dragon's nest.
As the first wizard, how should you distribute it to get the most Galleons?"
As if sensing their approach, a mysterious, hollow voice suddenly emanated from the knocker.
Robert stepped forward and patted the knocker.
"Everyone, behind this door is our Ravenclaw common room.
But to enter, you must correctly answer the question it poses.
Well, would anyone like to try?"
The group of young wizards began whispering among themselves.
"Is entering the Ravenclaw common room always this troublesome?"
"If we can't answer, will we have to sleep outside?"
"For this question, no matter what the first person proposes, won't the others just reject it and feed him to the dragon?"
"Merlin's socks, is it too late for me to switch Houses now?"
"…"
One young wizard spoke timidly. "I don't want any Galleons. I'll give them all to the others. Is that okay?"
The hollow voice from the knocker replied: "Incorrect answer."
The young wizard's face turned awkward, and he quickly retreated.
Another first-year with a buzz cut stepped forward, looking disdainful.
"Isn't it simple? Just cast four Reductos, and all the Galleons are mine."
Silence. The hall went quiet for a few seconds.
Then the knocker's hollow voice replied: "Azkaban."
At once, the students shuffled back, forming an empty circle around the buzz-cut boy.
Lucien glanced at him as well.
This one's either a Gryffindor or a Slytherin prospect—how did he end up here?
The Sorting Hat really isn't reliable.
Robert shook his head and smiled, trying to lighten the mood.
"Haha, sometimes strength is the most straightforward way to solve a problem. But in the wizarding world, knowledge and power are often equivalent."
Robert also felt that the question posed by the knocker today was a bit difficult—certainly not something eleven-year-old children could solve.
So he turned around, preparing to answer himself; after all, it was his duty to lead his juniors inside.
But just as Robert was about to speak, a boy's voice sounded from behind him.
"Give the fifth wizard 2 Galleons, and the third wizard 1 Galleon.
The remaining 97 Galleons… are all mine."
Hearing this answer, Robert was greatly surprised and was about to turn to see which junior had spoken.
But the common room door was already slowly swinging open.
The hollow voice of the knocker intoned: "May your wisdom shine like the stars!"