As Alister sat in the quiet compartment, reading complex theories in his book on magical creatures, a soft knock came from the door. Without looking up, he said, "You may come in."
The door slid open, and a girl with a confident, if slightly nervous, expression peered inside. "Do you mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full."
"Go ahead," Alister replied, his gaze still fixed on the page.
She came in, her trunk rattling as she pushed it onto the rack. She settled into the seat across from him. After a moment, seeing him engrossed in his reading, she pulled out a thick, elementary spellbook of her own. The only sounds in the compartment were the gentle rocking of the train and the turning of pages.
Time passed. The train rattled on, carrying them deeper into the magical world. Alister reached the end of his book and closed it with a soft thud. He sighed, a faint sense of disappointment settling over him.
He had read about legendary creatures—dragons, phoenixes, and griffins—beings of immense power. But the book's descriptions made them sound like little more than glorified animals, their strength and potential a pale imitation of the mythical beasts he knew from his past life.
Just then, the cold, mechanical voice of the System chimed in.
[Analysis of magical creatures is complete. Your assessment is correct. These creatures' potential is severely limited by the current magical state of the world. However, they possess a latent potential for growth. If a wizard and a creature form a contract, they can strengthen each other, a process known as symbiotic ascension.]
Alister's eyes widened. He had found it. The path to becoming a Beast Tamer. It wasn't about taming and subjugating a creature. It was about partnership. It wasn't about mastership; it was about companionship, a catalyst for a creature's true potential.
The thought of forging a bond with a creature, to share power and purpose, was a thrilling prospect.
Alister's thoughts were interrupted by the quiet rustle of pages. He looked up, the concept of symbiotic ascension still fresh in his mind and realized he wasn't alone.
To his right, the girl who had come in before was now settled into her seat, a book on her lap. She had delicate, Asian features, her dark hair a stark contrast to her pale skin. To his left sat a boy with bright, intelligent grey eyes and dark hair. Both were engrossed in their reading, a quiet camaraderie filling the small compartment.
After a few more moments of silence, the girl looked up, a tentative smile on her face. she said, her voice soft. "I'm still on the first chapter of my spellbook."
Alister nodded, a faint smile on his own face. "I am."
The boy with the grey eyes looked up from his book. "What are you reading?" he asked, his voice curious.
"A book on magical creatures," Alister replied, his gaze returning to his book.
"My name is Cho Chang," the girl said, her smile widening. "My ancestors are from China, and I'm a first-year like you."
"And I'm Cedric Diggory," the boy said, his voice warm and friendly. "I'm in my second year."
"Cho Chang. Cedric Diggory," Alister repeated, the names feeling foreign on his tongue. He gave them a curt nod, his gaze returning to the book. He wasn't one for pleasantries or small talk.
Alister, with a brief and direct tone, introduced himself. "I'm Alister Potter." He didn't offer a hand, just a direct look.
A flicker of curiosity passed over Cedric's face after hearing his name, but he didn't push. Cho, however, was not so easily deterred. "What were you reading?" she asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice.
Alister replied, his voice a low, even tone. "I'm trying to learn about this world."
"That's a bit advanced for a first year, isn't it?" Cedric asked, a friendly smile on his face. "Most of them don't even try to get through the books before start of grade."
Alister simply shrugged, a silent response that was meant to end the conversation. But Cho and Cedric were not put off. Cho talked about their expectations for Hogwarts, their families, and their hopes for the future. Cedric showing off his experience at Hogwarts. Alister listened, his mind processing every word, every nuance of their conversation. He thought. They were simply two young wizards, full of hope and naivety. They were children.
Cho, seeing Alister looking at his book, looked over at Cedric. "So, which House do you belong to, Cedric? I'm hoping to be in Ravenclaw."
Cedric smiled warmly. "I'm in Hufflepuff."
Cho asked with expression full of curiosity. "What's the process by which we're sorted?"
Cedric smiled. "I can't tell you that, Cho. It's a secret."
Cho's expression fell. "A secret? Why?"
Cedric leaned forward, his voice low. "The sorting's a bit of a tradition, you see. We don't talk about how it happens. You'll find out when you get there."
Alister's mind, always on guard, processed this new information. He had read about the four houses—Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin—but he had no idea how a wizard was placed into one. The silence and the secrecy around the process were a new and intriguing puzzle.
each house has its own qualities. Gryffindor values courage and bravery. Ravenclaw, wit and learning. Hufflepuff, loyalty and patience. And Slytherin, ambition and cunning.
As the Hogwarts Express rumbled to a slow stop, a sudden change swept through the compartment. The quiet camaraderie of books and conversation was replaced by a flurry of motion. The three of them, Alister, Cho, and Cedric, swiftly changed into their Hogwarts uniforms. Alister's robes were simple, black, and perfectly tailored.
They stepped off the train and onto a dark, bustling platform, the air filled with the scent of damp earth and magic. The first-years were separated from the older students and gathered around a familiar, towering figure: Hagrid, holding a large lantern.
"Right then, first years!" he bellowed, his voice echoing across the platform. "This way! Follow me!"
Alister and Cho separated from Cedric. They followed Hagrid down a dark, narrow, and incredibly bumpy path. It was a chaotic mess of stumbling feet, confused whispers, and the rustle of robes. The path was uneven, filled with roots and loose rocks, a testament to its ancient, unkempt nature. The other first-years struggled, their footing unsure in the dark.
But Alister moved with a quiet, effortless grace. His combat instincts, honed in a past life and recently refined by his Tier 1 physique, guided his every step. He didn't need to use magic.
It would be utterly foolish to draw attention to himself without first understanding this new place, its power, and its hidden dangers. He walked with a silent, confident ease, his movements precise and controlled.
Suddenly, he felt a slight pull on his robe. His hand instinctively tensed, ready to cast a spell, but relaxed as he saw it was Cho, who had stumbled and was using his robe to keep her balance. He didn't scold her; he just gave a curt nod and continued walking, his pace a little slower now to accommodate her.
They walked for a long time, the path twisting and turning, before the woods finally gave way to the magnificent sight of a vast, black lake. The surface was a perfect mirror, reflecting the starry sky above and the towering, magnificent castle of Hogwarts in the distance. Its spires and turrets, a silhouette against the dark sky, were an awe-inspiring sight. The castle was not just a building; it was a testament to the power of magic.
He looked at the small boats waiting at the shore.
The small, wooden boats, each holding four first-years, glided silently across the black, still surface of the lake. Alister and Cho shared a boat with two other students, a nervous boy with a round face and a quiet girl with long, dark hair.
The castle, its windows a scattering of golden dots against the inky darkness, grew larger with every gentle push of the boats. The silence was profound, broken only by the soft lapping of water against wood and the distant hoot of an owl.
Alister's eyes remained fixed on the castle.
The boats finally reached a small harbor at the foot of the castle, a narrow passageway carved into the rock. They disembarked and followed Hagrid up a long flight of stone steps. The cool, damp air of the passageway was a stark contrast to the vast, open expanse of the lake. They finally came to a wide, open door.
A tall, severe-looking woman with her dark hair pulled back in a tight bun stood waiting for them. She wore a long, emerald-green robe and a look of stern authority on her face. This was it. The official handover.
"The first years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said, his voice a low, respectful rumble.
"Thank you, Hagrid," the woman said, her voice crisp and no-nonsense. She turned to face the huddled group of first-years, her sharp eyes scanning each of them. "Welcome to Hogwarts. My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall."
Alister's mind, instantly recognized the name. He had read it on his Hogwarts letter. Minerva McGonagall. Deputy Headmistress.
Professor McGonagall's voice was a crisp as she spoke to Hagrid, Alister heard the frantic whispers of the students around him. He heard guesses about the Sorting Ceremony, some so exaggerated that they sounded like a child's fantasy. He heard one boy nervously whisper about dueling a dragon, another about solving a riddle with a magical sphinx. Alister's lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
Just then, his gaze, ever watchful, caught a flicker of movement. Something passed through the wall, a translucent figure. He had read about them in a book about Hogwarts history—the ghosts, a permanent fixture of the castle, a record of its past. The ghosts, unbothered by the chaos around them, drifted through the students, sending a few into a terrified frenzy.
McGonagall's voice, however, was as calm and clear as ever. She gave them a stern look. "Quiet, everyone. We're about to begin." She then lined up all the students.
Professor McGonagall led them through the massive oak doors and into a vast, open hall. The torches that lined the walls flickered, casting long, dancing shadows. Alister looked up, his gaze immediately drawn to the ceiling.
It was a masterpiece of magical architecture, a seamless extension of the starry sky above. It was a clear, unblinking mirror of the universe, a silent testament to the power of magic. the System humming in the background, processed the raw energy of the enchantment. This was not an illusion; it was a powerful, complex spell that had been in place for centuries.
Below the starry sky, four long tables stretched the length of the hall, each one filled with students wearing different colors. The tables were a sea of vibrant green, blue, yellow, and red. The faces of the older students were a mix of amusement and curiosity, their gazes fixed on the group of nervous first-years.
At the very end of the hall, a long table was filled with the school's staff. Their expressions were a mix of stern authority and quiet kindness, but Alister's gaze was fixed on the man in the center, a powerful, ancient wizard with a long, white beard.
They came to a stop at the front of the hall, where a single, four-legged stool stood before them. On top of the stool was a worn, battered hat, its brim frayed and its patches tattered.
Professor McGonagall, with a roll of parchment in her hand, stepped forward. The hall fell silent. The ancient hat on the stool was still and silent. She cleared her throat and began to read from the list.
"Cho Chang," she called out, her voice clear and precise.
Cho, her face pale with nerves, walked to the stool. She sat down, and Professor McGonagall placed the hat on her head. The hat slipped over her eyes. Alister watched, his mind processing the ritual. The hat, a magical artifact that could read minds, was a powerful tool. He wondered what it would say to him. After a moment, the hat bellowed out a single word: "RAVENCLAW!"
The Ravenclaw table erupted in cheers and applause as Cho, with a shy smile, made her way to her new house.
The sorting went on. Name after name was called out. The hall, once so silent, was now filled with the roar of applause and the clatter of a thousand voices. The students were being divided.
The list dwindled. The last names were called out.
Finally, Professor McGonagall looked up from her list, her eyes scanning the crowd of remaining first-years. Her voice, which had been so clear and precise, faltered for a moment. She cleared her throat and, with a final, deep breath, called out a name.
"Alister Potter!"
A small stir, like a ripple in a still pond, passed through the hall. Whispers erupted. Hands pointed. The younger students, who had been so focused on their own sorting, now stared at him with a mix of curiosity and awe. Alister knew. The stir was not for him. It was for his sister, for the legend and burden she carried.