Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Great Hall.
The vast chamber adjoined the main castle, serving both as the daily dining hall for students and professors and as the grand venue for feasts and ceremonies.
Inside, it was breathtaking. The ceiling had been bewitched to mirror the night sky above, giving the illusion that the students were dining outdoors beneath the stars. Thousands of floating candles illuminated the space, casting a warm glow over four long tables—one for each House. At the far end stood a raised platform where another table stretched across, reserved for the professors and staff.
By the time Professor McGonagall led the first-years inside, the place was already packed. Students filled the four long tables, and the professors at the high table looked on, their gazes curious, probing, or merely assessing as they studied the new arrivals.
Some of the children grew nervous under the weight of those stares. Others craned their necks in open wonder, awestruck by the enchanted ceiling and drifting candles.
Ark lingered near the back of the group, but his attention locked immediately on the figure seated in the center of the high table.
Tall and thin, he wore half-moon glasses and a richly embroidered robe. His hair and beard were both silver, long enough to be tucked into his belt, and his crooked nose stood out sharply on his face. His eyes, however—bright blue and twinkling—seemed to pierce straight into the soul. Yet they carried warmth, a touch of mischief, and a kindness that made his smile radiate benevolence and cheer.
Ark had seen that face before, on Chocolate Frog cards and in books—moving portraits that never failed to catch the eye.
Albus Dumbledore. Headmaster of Hogwarts. The greatest wizard of the age.
Thinking of the man's legendary and tragic life, Ark found it almost unimaginable that he could still smile with such genuine warmth.
As Ark studied him quietly, Professor McGonagall carried a battered, patched, and filthy old pointed hat into the hall. She placed it on a stool—and it stirred. The hat twisted, seams creaking, and suddenly burst into song.
Hermione tugged at Ark's sleeve. "That's the Sorting Hat you mentioned? Just put it on, and it decides which House you belong to?"
"Yeah," Ark whispered back, lowering his voice as everyone watched the hat sing. "Don't worry. It'll still take your wishes into account. If you really want Gryffindor, I think it'll send you there. Probably."
By the time their murmured exchange ended, the Sorting Hat had finished its song and was bowing politely to each of the four tables.
McGonagall stepped forward with a roll of parchment in hand.
"When I call your name, you will come forward, put on the Hat, and sit on the stool for your Sorting."
She barely glanced at the parchment; it was as though she'd memorized the names already.
"Hannah Abbott!"
A round-faced girl with rosy cheeks and two neat braids stumbled forward, nerves written all over her as she perched on the stool and lowered the hat over her eyes.
Moments later, the Sorting Hat cried out, "Hufflepuff!"
The table on the right erupted in cheers. Hannah beamed, slipped off the stool, and scurried toward her new Housemates, who welcomed her with claps on the back.
The Sorting continued smoothly. One by one, each new student found their place, and each House table erupted into applause in turn.
"Hermione Granger!"
Hermione reacted instantly, stepping forward before she even realized what she was doing. She glanced back at Ark, who gave her a reassuring smile. Squaring her shoulders, she set the hat on her head.
"Gryffindor!"
The declaration came quickly, and Hermione's delighted face lit up as she joined her new House. Ark couldn't help but think to himself, I wonder if she'll regret it once she has to deal with all the troublemakers in that House. For someone who worships rules and grades, Gryffindor's chaos might just drive her mad.
Neville Longbottom was sorted soon after—also into Gryffindor. The round-faced boy nearly forgot to take the hat off, he was so overjoyed.
And then—
"Harry Potter!"
The hall fell utterly silent.
Every eye followed the small, skinny boy who stepped forward. His messy black hair stuck up in the back, his round glasses perched crookedly on his nose. His skin was pale, his almond-shaped eyes a vivid green, and the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead stood out clearly beneath his fringe.
Ark studied him more closely than anyone else. This boy, who looked so fragile and awkward, was stiff with nerves—worse than most of the other first-years.
Yet he was the same boy who, at only a year old, had deflected the Dark Lord's killing curse, leaving Voldemort shattered and broken. The same boy whose name filled books, whose story every wizard child knew.
The Boy Who Lived. The so-called savior of the Wizarding World.
But right now, he was just a child who had spent ten years bullied and neglected in a Muggle household, only recently discovering this new, magical life.
Harry Potter sat, the Sorting Hat dropped over his head—and silence stretched.
Then, at last, the Hat roared: "Gryffindor!"
The Gryffindor table erupted into thunderous cheers. Students leapt to their feet, some even dancing atop the benches as they shouted Harry's name. It felt more like a holiday than a school ceremony.
At the Slytherin table, faces were sour. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff looked disappointed, but they accepted it easily enough.
"Ark Byrne!"
McGonagall's voice carried clearly across the hall.
Ark straightened his robes and stepped forward from the dwindling line of first-years.
Immediately, conversation flared. Students craned their necks to see him, and girls' eyes lit up as though they'd spotted a star.
"Who's that boy?"
"He's gorgeous."
"Look at that smile—it's so gentle."
"Even his eyes feel warm, like they're speaking to you."
"I hope he ends up in our House!"
Ignoring the whispers, Ark approached the stool with steady steps. He sat, set the Sorting Hat firmly on his head, and waited.
He wasn't worried about what it might see.
The Sorting Hat was unique—capable of thought, speech, and most importantly, Legilimency. It could peer into the mind of any student it touched, reading strengths, ambitions, and desires. But Ark had no fear.
With his gift of Mind Guidance, he could choose what to reveal and what to bury. When he focused, he could even forget himself, concealing memories as though they'd never existed. It was more effective than Occlumency itself.
Right now, he locked away all knowledge of the other world he had come from, and of the strange cheat system in his mind.
And then, the Hat's voice whispered in his thoughts.
"Oh, my… what an unusual young wizard I've found here."