Gazing through the train window, the scenery had changed drastically. The meticulously tended farmland had given way to wilder landscapes: rushing forests, winding, dark rivers, and low, dark green hills.
Ron and Fogg continued their endless, boisterous argument until dusk, debating the relative merits of Quidditch versus Muggle football. Since neither knew anything substantial about the other's chosen sport, their exchange was wonderfully pointless, resembling two enthusiastic walls talking past each other.
Harry, meanwhile, proved to be an excellent, if slightly distracted, listener. He was constantly distracted by the Chocolate Frog cards—and whether by good fortune or ill, he had already collected several Dumbledore cards.
"Hurry up and change into your robes. I just heard from an upperclassman that we'll be arriving any minute now," Allen announced, opening the compartment door to galvanize his companions into action.
Allen, unable to endure the ceaseless chatter of the two redheads, had taken a quick walk to stretch his legs and gauge the train's imminent arrival.
During this brief excursion, he had run into Hermione Granger, who was, predictably, assisting Neville Longbottom in the frantic search for his runaway toad. The bushy-haired girl, still insecure about entering the wizarding world and uncertain of her true worth, was masking her fear with an unfortunate, unlikeable arrogance.
Allen had effortlessly used a Summoning Charm (a difficult piece of magic for a first-year, but trivial for him) to locate Neville's toad. He felt no complex emotions towards the future 'Brightest Witch of Her Age' yet; they were all too young. He knew that even harboring a hint of romantic interest towards minors could lead to trouble in his past life's internet circles, let alone making a move. If he ever developed feelings for her, he reasoned, he could always act in their third year, when she was most emotionally vulnerable.
"Allen, you're back! You missed it! Malfoy and his goons picked a fight with me and Harry," Ron complained the moment Allen reappeared. "If you'd been here, we'd have absolutely crushed them!"
Harry and Fogg readily agreed, nodding vigorously. They were already well aware that Allen's imposing physique was far beyond that of his peers.
Allen neither confirmed nor denied this. If Malfoy had truly offended him, he wouldn't hesitate to deliver a swift, non-magical lesson to the arrogant boy. For a first-year who knew no magic, a direct physical confrontation was the most straightforward option.
The boys quickly stripped out of their Muggle clothes and changed into their formal black robes.
Ron's hand-me-down robes were noticeably short, ending well above his ankles and exposing his scuffed leather shoes. Ron looked mortified, a clear indication that one of his older brothers had, at some point, been exactly his height.
Allen, however, thought the shorter robe was secretly rather practical; at least Ron wouldn't have to worry about tripping over the hem as they walked.
"The train will arrive at Hogwarts Station in five minutes. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the castle for you," the conductor's voice boomed over the intercom.
"We're nearly there… the magical world…" Fogg whispered, suddenly losing all the animated cheerfulness he displayed when talking about food. "I… I'm actually a little nervous."
He wasn't the only one. Harry clutched his stomach, looking thoroughly uncomfortable. Even Ron, despite being a pure-blood from an old wizarding family, was pale beneath his freckles, clearly recalling some awful, exaggerated warnings about the Sorting Ceremony given by his twin brothers.
Allen quickly stuffed his remaining candy into Harry's pockets, haphazardly shoved his clothes into his trunk, and set it aside. He then moved to the door, joining the growing current of students flowing into the corridor.
The train slowed to a shuddering halt.
Passengers jostled and pushed their way toward the doors, stepping out onto a small, dark, and damp platform.
The chill of the night air made Harry shiver as he stood close beside Allen.
Then, a flickering lamp rose high above the heads of the massed students, and Allen heard a deep, booming voice shout: "First years! First years, over here! Harry, how are yeh doing?"
Towering over the chaotic crowd, the massive, long-bearded figure of Hagrid beamed down at them, looking slightly overwhelmed himself. However, some of the younger, unfamiliar students visibly flinched, intimidated by his abnormally large, imposing frame.
"C'mon, follow me. Any more first years? Hogwarts Keys Keeper, Gamekeeper… Hey, watch yer step, kid! Right, follow me, first years!"
The nervous group of new students trailed after Hagrid, slipping and stumbling along what felt like a narrow, steep path in the pitch dark.
Allen, thanks to his physical training, moved easily and even had the presence of mind to offer a steadying hand to those beside him.
"Ron's shorter robes are definitely an advantage here," Allen mused. "He's walking faster and more easily than anyone else."
The darkness on either side of the path was absolute, and the entire group fell silent, creating an atmosphere straight out of a horror movie.
"Just round this bend, and you'll get yer first proper look at Hogwarts!" Hagrid called out.
Then came a collective gasp of awe and a loud "Ah—!" as the narrow path terminated abruptly at the edge of a vast, black lake.
On the high hillside opposite, a magnificent castle rose into the sky, its towers soaring and its numerous windows glittering under the cold, starry sky.
"No more than four to a boat!" Hagrid bellowed, pointing toward a small fleet of wooden boats moored at the water's edge. Allen knew this significant number was meant to evoke the spirits of the four founders of Hogwarts, granting the new wizards a symbolic, foundational experience.
Ron, seizing the opportunity presented by his earlier speed, had already been pulled aboard a boat by some older students. Allen deftly hopped into another boat. Harry and Fogg helped each other climb aboard, and Neville, spotting Allen who had helped him earlier, breathed a sigh of relief and quickly joined them.
"Everyone aboard?" Hagrid shouted, having to squeeze uncomfortably into a boat all by himself.
"Right then, FORWARD!"
The fleet of small boats instantly began to glide across the still, mirror-like surface of the lake.
Everyone was silent now, gazing up at the magnificent castle that seemed to pierce the clouds.
As they approached the sheer cliff face upon which the castle sat, the structure loomed terrifyingly high above them.
"Heads down!" Hagrid roared as the first boats reached the cliff.
Everyone instinctively ducked, but the small boats only carried them under a curtain of ivy that obscured a secret, open entrance in the cliff face. The young wizards quickly realized that the only person who truly had to bow was the towering Hagrid.
They followed a dark tunnel that led beneath the castle, eventually emerging at what appeared to be an underground harbor, and then up onto a gravelly, stone-covered slope.
Hagrid used his enormous, calloused fist to pound on the castle gate. Standing waiting was a tall, dark-haired witch wearing striking emerald-green robes. With a severely somber and serious expression, Professor McGonagall led the new students into a small chamber just off the main hall.
Professor McGonagall succinctly introduced the four houses of Hogwarts and announced that the Sorting Ceremony would commence shortly. Given her strict instructions on how young wizards must present themselves, Harry immediately concluded she was going to be an absolutely formidable figure.
The collective nervousness among the first-years was palpable: those from the Muggle world were entirely bewildered, unsure of the bizarre challenges ahead, and those from wizarding families seemed unable to glean any concrete information from their older relatives, leaving them subject to rampant, awful rumors.
The adults, it seemed, intentionally refrained from disrupting this emotional ritual, viewing it as a rare and vital developmental experience.
"How can they be so sure about which house we'll be put into?" Harry whispered, his anxiety returning.
Fogg, equally curious, turned to Allen rather than to Ron, who seemed untrustworthy despite his pure-blood status.
"Don't worry, they aren't going to expel us," Allen reassured them blandly. He had no intention of spoiling the traditional suspense; he just found the spectacle of everyone's nerves quite entertaining.
"It's probably some kind of test. Fred said it involves wrestling a troll, but I think he was just joking," Ron whispered, looking genuinely terrified.
Allen offered no further explanation. He felt they would soon find out, and the reality was far from difficult. He considered the true challenge lay in facing the Sorting Hat, which possessed the power to see into a person's mind and potential. He intensely wondered if he could perceive any secrets within the Hat itself.
This was the very reason he had been diligently practicing Occlumency for nearly two years. Even mastering the skill in his first year would attract Dumbledore's attention in a way that was less alarming than exhibiting unnatural knowledge. After all, the wizarding world occasionally produced true geniuses. He could assess the Hat's reaction to his Occlumency and then decide whether he needed to strategically avoid Harry and his friends later on.
A master Occlumens could ensure that a Legilimens only perceived what the Occlumens wanted them to see. Allen needed to determine exactly which parts of the Hat's consciousness he could sense—reaching that level of mental penetration, however, was slightly beyond his current practiced ability.
Allen was lost in these technical thoughts when Harry suddenly jumped beside him, and several screams erupted from the students behind them. The Hogwarts ghosts had appeared to stage their traditional pre-Sorting fright. About twenty pearly-white, translucent apparitions drifted through the wall behind them. They floated around the small room, whispering amongst themselves, seemingly oblivious to the terrified first-years.
Amidst the students' shrieks, the ghosts made their presence known, slipping through the walls before vanishing once more.
As if waiting for the ghosts to complete their task, Professor McGonagall returned the moment they departed. She instantly calmed the frightened students with her stern, unwavering presence. "Now, form a single line," Professor McGonagall instructed the first years. "And follow me."
The Sorting Ceremony was about to begin.