At Hogwarts, everyone had their own opinion about which House was the best.
But if you asked which House was the most famous, the answer was obvious—Gryffindor.
There were plenty of reasons, but for the young wizards about to start school, the most convincing one was this: the current Headmaster of Hogwarts, the man hailed as the greatest wizard of the age, Albus Dumbledore, had been a Gryffindor himself.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was born in 1881 in Mould-on-the-Wold and entered Hogwarts in 1892, where he was sorted into Gryffindor. During his school years, he kept up frequent correspondence with some of the Wizarding World's most distinguished figures—including Nicolas Flamel, Bathilda Bagshot, Adalbert Waffling, and Griselda Marchbanks—and even published papers in several academic journals.
He won the Barnabus Finkley Prize for Exceptional Spell-Casting, served as the British Youth Representative to the Wizengamot, and received the Gold Medal for Ground-Breaking Contribution to Alchemy at the International Alchemy Conference in Cairo. Widely considered the most brilliant student Hogwarts had ever seen, he remained the school's most renowned figure until his graduation in 1899, already famous across the Wizarding World.
Later, he returned to Hogwarts to teach. In 1910, he took up the post of Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, later became a Professor of Transfiguration, and by around 1956 was appointed Headmaster by the Board of Governors—a position he still held to this day.
More than once, the post of Minister of Magic had been offered to him, but he always refused.
His most celebrated achievement was his defeat of the dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald, who had terrorized much of continental Europe and was regarded by many as the first Dark Lord. From that moment on, Dumbledore was considered the greatest and most powerful wizard of his time. Gryffindor's reputation soared, making it the House most admired by many first-years.
At least, that was how Hermione saw it.
"I read that Headmaster Dumbledore is already a hundred and ten years old, and he's still running the school. Isn't that amazing?"
By now Hermione had settled herself beside Ark, and her voice hadn't stopped since. Her eagerness to share, to be heard, was so obvious it practically radiated from her.
"It is amazing," Ark agreed with a smile. He wasn't just humoring her.
For Muggles, someone over a century old, still lively enough to lead a school—that was truly impressive. "Spry for his age" didn't even begin to cover it.
But among wizards, living past a hundred wasn't unusual. Dumbledore's predecessor as Headmaster, Armando Dippet, had lived for more than three centuries. That was true old age.
And there were wizards older still. Take Nicolas Flamel, the great alchemist who had corresponded with Dumbledore back in his student days—he had lived for over six hundred years. Of course, his longevity came from his own Elixir of Life, so he was hardly a typical case. Still, it showed clearly enough: wizards lived far longer than Muggles.
If Ark hadn't already known these facts, he might've shared Hermione's wide-eyed wonder when he first stepped into the Wizarding World.
"I—I want to be in Gryffindor too," Neville murmured, clutching Trevor as he sat nervously across from them.
In truth, he would've been grateful just to be accepted anywhere. But if he could end up in Gryffindor, that would be more than he dared hope for.
"You want Gryffindor too, Byrne?" Hermione leaned forward, eyes bright with curiosity and expectation.
"Me?" Ark tilted his head, unbothered. "Honestly, I don't mind. I don't have a preference."
It was the truth.
He knew the ins and outs of all four Houses, and while he'd once thought about it seriously, he'd given up. Gryffindor might be full of famous names, known for courage and daring—but to Ark they were simply energetic pranksters. Call it bravery if you wanted; more often it looked like reckless foolishness, and it landed them in trouble again and again.
Slytherin prized ambition, its students cunning and proud. But that pride made it a nest of pure-blood supremacists who scorned half-bloods and despised Muggles. Choosing Slytherin was inviting misery.
Ravenclaw valued intelligence and wit, but in reality most of its so-called cleverness amounted to little more than petty cunning. The few truly wise students stood apart, while many others prided themselves on being "rational" when in truth they were simply cold and detached.
Hufflepuff was different—famous for loyalty, patience, fairness, honesty, and kindness. Its atmosphere was by far the friendliest. Yet because of that, it was branded the most mediocre House, the one you landed in if you weren't good enough for the other three.
After weighing it all, Ark realized none of the Houses called to him. So he let it go.
"I'll leave it to the Sorting Hat," he said with a shrug. "Wherever it puts me, that's where I'll go."
Hermione and Neville traded puzzled looks.
"The Sorting Hat?" Hermione asked at once, unable to contain herself.
"It's a magical hat. It can think, talk, even sing. When you put it on, it sees what you're best suited for and sorts you into the House that fits."
Seeing their curiosity—Hermione's especially—Ark launched into an easy explanation of Hogwarts.
Some of what he said was right out of Hogwarts: A History, which Hermione eagerly confirmed. But other things weren't in the book at all—like the truth about the Sorting Ceremony. Hogwarts tradition exaggerated its terrors on purpose, just to spook nervous newcomers. Ark spoiled the trick, revealing what really happened. Hermione and Neville listened with rapt attention.
They forgot completely that Ark was a first-year like them, and a Muggle-born besides. They forgot they weren't even supposed to be in this compartment. The three of them just talked and talked, time slipping away unnoticed.
So unnoticed, in fact, that none of them realized when the Hogwarts Express rumbled into the Scottish Highlands.
At one point, the trolley witch appeared, pushing her cart piled with wizarding sweets. She offered treats like Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Chocolate Frogs with moving cards, Acid Pops, Canary Creams, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, and Liquorice Wands. Even Ark had to admit it all looked tempting.
But his pockets were painfully empty. In the end, Hermione pulled out the coins and bought snacks for both him and Neville. Ark found the situation a little awkward—like he'd suddenly become the third useless man orbiting around Miss Know-It-All.
Yet even after stuffing themselves with sweets, all three were still hungry. It wasn't their appetites—it was the train. The journey dragged on from morning until dusk without stopping.
By the time Neville was ready to faint from hunger, a voice finally rang out:
"The Hogwarts Express will soon arrive at its destination. Please leave your luggage on the train and put on your robes. Your belongings will be taken up to the castle for you."
Only then did Hermione and Neville remember their trunks—and their uniforms—were still in their own compartment. They didn't even have time to say goodbye before bolting out the door. Ark chuckled, shook his head, and rose. He pulled his robe from his case and slipped it on, tucking his wand safely inside.
At last, he looked the part of a wizard.
When the train finally screeched to a halt, Ark joined the crowd spilling onto the platform.
Outside, the station was small and dark, and from the shadows a towering figure slowly approached…