A fluffy-haired blond boy frowned thoughtfully for several seconds.
"I don't know."
"You don't know what you were thinking about?!"
Michael groaned, certain that because of friends like Anthony and Terry, he would die a few years early.
As for that elegant yet lightning-fast dining etiquette they had witnessed…
A poor orphanage always found creative ways to dispose of its children—
though none of those methods ever benefited the children themselves.
Perhaps the only people who gained anything were the caretakers,
collecting new reasons to berate and punish.
Through that suffering, Sean had been forced to learn certain things—
table manners among them: eating elegantly, walking properly, maintaining posture, routine discipline.
Good thing I escaped, he thought.
Otherwise, the soon-to-be-unemployed Anna would never have let him survive comfortably.
Inside the Hogwarts Great Hall,
Dumbledore laughed and chatted at the high table,
Michael attempted to flirt with older witches,
Terry scribbled thoughts furiously into his notebook—
and Sean ate.
Then ate.
And kept eating.
He didn't stop until the hall gradually quieted and the feast vanished from the plates in a burst of golden sparks.
"Now that everyone is fed and watered,"
Dumbledore's voice rang out.
Fed and watered?
Sean quietly disagreed.
Not even close.
Dumbledore continued with three warnings:
no entering the fourth-floor corridor on the right-hand side,
no entering the Forbidden Forest,
and no wandering the corridors at night.
"And now, before we send you to bed—let us sing the school song!"
The Headmaster raised his arms, enthusiastic.
Sean stared at him—then noticed the stiff smiles freezing the faces of every professor on the dais.
And moments later, he understood why.
"…This is awful."
He clapped his hands over his ears.
"If you don't want to listen, you'd better sing!"
Michael shouted passionately, already belting at full volume despite being spectacularly tone-deaf.
"If you don't torture others, they'll torture you!"
"That's… fair."
So Sean opened his mouth and sang, matching the rhythm with a tune from his previous life:
Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hogwarts,
Teach us something please,
Whether bald old men or broken-kneed children,
Our minds are blank as air;
Filled with dead flies, fluff, and dust—
Teach us what we forgot,
And we'll do our utmost,
Till we've rotted clean away.
When the song finally crashed to an end,
Michael leaned close and whispered, starry-eyed:
"Brilliant! You sing amazingly!"
Sean simply nodded.
The pop melody he slipped beneath the lyrics had softened the surrounding wails considerably.
Soon after, a tall prefect led the Ravenclaw first-years out of the Great Hall and up the grand staircase.
Then up another staircase.
And another.
And another.
"I swear this staircase wants my death!"
Michael wheezed, collapsing against the railing.
"You just said the prefect's legs would be the death of you," Anthony muttered, rolling his eyes.
"Hey! Pudding can be eaten recklessly, but words cannot!
That was a brother-secret! How could you expose me?!"
Michael launched himself dramatically at him, suddenly full of energy.
By the time they stepped into the Ravenclaw common room,
Sean's face was pale.
One more flight and his body would have given up.
"I have to think of something…"
he muttered between ragged breaths.
The Ravenclaw first-years gathered as a gold-haired prefect smiled warmly.
"Congratulations! I'm Prefect Penelope Clearwater. I'm delighted to welcome you to Ravenclaw.
"Our emblem is the eagle, soaring high above all others.
Our common room sits atop Ravenclaw Tower,
with arched windows and a view unmatched anywhere in Hogwarts—
the Black Lake, the Forbidden Forest, the Quidditch pitch, and the greenhouses.
"Our House ghost is the Grey Lady.
Others say she never speaks—but she speaks to Ravenclaws.
"I hope you enjoy tonight's rest.
Your beds are covered with sky-blue silk quilts,
and the wind whispering past the windows is wonderfully peaceful.
"Once again—welcome to the cleverest, quickest, and most curious House at Hogwarts!"
Thunderous applause erupted from the new eagles.
Michael whistled loud enough to echo.
Flying broomsticks… Sean recalled.
Some Ravenclaws, skilled enough, flew back to the tower instead of climbing the stairs.
He mentally recorded the idea—after scholarship preparation.
He took in the room at last:
A vast round chamber, airy and bright, lined with bronze and blue banners,
a domed ceiling painted with stars,
deep blue carpets glittering with constellations,
shelves of books and elegant study tables,
and opposite the entrance, a white marble bust of Rowena Ravenclaw herself.
Next to the statue, the stairway to the dormitories.
"Please take your class schedules," Penelope instructed, organizing the line efficiently.
"Dormitory information is written on the back."
Sean accepted his and scanned it—
Monday morning: Potions. Double period.
His stomach dropped.
Urgency slammed through him—he needed to review Magical Drafts and Potions immediately.
He had only memorized it once, and The Half-Blood Prince would not be there to guide him.
"Sean!"
Michael waved his schedule triumphantly.
"My grandmother says—anyone who loves food must be good people!"
He flashed the back of the parchment:
Dormitory 404: Sean Green & Michael Corner
Michael threw an arm around Sean's shoulders (one-sidedly), and they entered their dorm.
Blue and silver decorations filled the walls, each bed crowned with its own personal book-shelf.
Arched windows draped with silk stirred slightly in the night breeze.
But Sean's eyes locked immediately on the thick, sky-blue quilt.
I won't freeze tonight, he thought.
For the first time in years, warmth waited for him.
Advance Chapters available on Patreon