Back in the compartment, the conversation died down. Charlie pulled out One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi and started reading.
It had the same pull on him that 1000 Why books and nature documentaries used to have when he was little.
Hermione was the opposite. She sat across from him, nose buried in her spellbook, lips moving silently as she memorised every line. She didn't even notice him glancing at her.
Time slipped by fast. Soon the forest outside wore a golden veil and the sky turned violet.
"We should change into our robes," Hermione said, glancing out the window. She took out her neatly folded school robes and slid the door open. "See you in a bit."
"See you." Charlie stood too, closed his book, and opened his trunk.
The moment he laid it flat, a soft clinking came from inside.
"What's all that?" Neville asked, leaning over curiously.
He saw rows of glass jars, candy moulds, and little bottles.
"Uh… toys?" Charlie said, not quite sure how else to explain it.
"Just pretend they're toys."
He thought again of Newt Scamander's suitcase from the films.
"Oh, these are for making sweets, right?" Neville nodded, spotting the moulds that matched the chocolate he'd eaten earlier.
"Exactly. My entire life savings, basically."
"And those jars?" Neville pointed at two glass containers—one holding a pale golden syrup, the other a shimmering silver liquid. A third looked like thickened water with a faint green shimmer.
"Secret recipe syrups." Charlie smiled.
He wanted to give Neville the full tour, but they still had to change.
"Tell you later. Or better yet—let you taste them later."
Besides sunlight and moonlight, those jars now held all kinds of things he'd harvested with his wand over the past few weeks. Some he didn't even dare try himself.
Plenty of time to experiment.
His robes were standard size and a bit long—they brushed his ankles. Hard to get a perfect fit when you're an orphan living on street magic and kindness.
Hope I can afford a proper custom set next year—longer than regulation. He adjusted his collar while thinking.
Knock knock—
"Come in," Charlie called, still fixing his sleeves.
Hermione stepped inside just as a voice echoed through the train.
"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."
"Exactly what the trolley witch said." Charlie nodded at Neville.
Neville smiled back.
Out in the corridor, first-years were running around in chaos. Charlie opened the door, took one look, and closed it again.
"Let's wait a minute. I hate crowds."
Three minutes later the three of them finally stepped off the train.
At the now-empty carriage door, Charlie's ears twitched. He glanced back.
A small black shadow flickered at the edge of his vision.
?
He said nothing, just tugged his hat lower and straightened his collar.
The platform at Hogsmeade was pitch-black. Only a few scattered lamps fought the night.
This platform had to be at least Victorian—made sense; trains were a Victorian thing.
The complaint was simple: it was too dark. The lamps barely did anything.
Going from electric lights back to oil lamps had exactly one upside—stars. The sky was a blazing carpet of them.
Then one "lamp" taller than the rest started moving.
"First-years! First-years, over here!" A booming voice rolled out from the giant figure.
As they got closer, Charlie finally saw it clearly.
Not a lamp.
A man nearly three metres tall, built like a small mountain, beard tucked into his belt.
Charlie figured he could probably use the beard as a measuring stick for his own height.
"Oi, Harry! All right?" The giant grinned toward their group. Charlie turned—Harry had somehow ended up right beside him.
"Hello." × several voices at once.
"Rubeus Hagrid, Hogwarts gamekeeper. Follow me, kids—mind the steps."
They trudged down a slippery muddy slope, through a patch of trees, then Hagrid's voice rang out again.
"Round this bend and you'll see Hogwarts for the first time!"
Ten seconds later the gasps started.
The ancient castle rose like a painting against the night sky. The still lake below mirrored it perfectly, and the moon added the final touch of magic.
Even though Charlie had seen it in his head a thousand times, his mouth still fell open.
"Bloody hell… that's massive."
"Ancient and beautiful," Hermione agreed quietly.
Hagrid let them stare until the awe died down, then led them to the lake's edge.
"Four to a boat!" he called, climbing into one himself.
Clearly one giant counted as four.
Charlie, Neville, and the two girls found an empty boat. A freckled girl with a ponytail joined them.
"Hi," she said once they were seated. "I'm Hannah Abbott."
"I know you," Charlie said, suddenly tempted to plop Alice on her head.
"You do?" Hannah looked surprised.
"Heard the name. I'm Charlie Wonka—nice to meet you." He reached out and shook her hand.
The little boats glided forward on their own. Soon they reached a small dock on the far shore.
Charlie helped Neville and the girls out, then stepped onto land himself.
Hagrid led them up to the huge oak front doors.
A narrow gap opened. A stern woman in emerald robes and a pointed hat stood waiting.
"Professor McGonagall, the first-years," Hagrid said.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I'll take it from here."
She swept the chattering crowd with one calm look and silence fell instantly.
Ten seconds. That was all it took.
McGonagall clearly had a gift.
She turned, pushed the enormous doors open with just the tips of her fingers. Charlie frowned, watching.
She hadn't used a wand. The doors had simply obeyed.
Inside, he tested one with his own hand. Solid oak didn't budge.
Professor power, then. Noted.
No wand required?
The small mystery went into his mental notebook as they followed her into a side chamber.
Everyone squeezed together shoulder-to-shoulder while McGonagall explained what came next: the Sorting Ceremony in the Great Hall, which House they'd spend the next seven years in, and a quick rundown of the four Houses.
Before she left she added, "I suggest you smarten yourselves up. I'll be back when they're ready. And remember—no talking once we're inside."
Then she was gone.
Charlie stood at the very back, leaning against the door they'd come through. He opened his hand without a word.
A small black shadow hopped into his palm.
He quietly placed it on the edge of Neville's shoulder.
"Ahhh!!" Neville yelped. "What the—!"
Then he focused.
"Gurgle~"
Leif gave him a disdainful croak.
"Leif?!" Neville's face lit up. He scooped the fat toad into both hands and stared at Charlie. "Where did you find him?"
"He's been following you the whole time."
Back on the train Charlie hadn't been the last one off—he'd just been the last person off.
The black shadow behind him had been Leif. The toad had even followed Neville onto the boat and all the way here.
"Obviously he's not stupid. He knows you're his owner," Charlie said.
"Really?" Neville looked stunned.
"Pretty clear."
Charlie couldn't remember exactly when Leif showed up in the books, but it definitely wasn't on the train.
This matched what he was seeing now—the toad was smart enough to stick with his boy.
He narrowed his eyes at Leif and grinned. "You won't have to worry about him running off anymore. Though you might want to tell him that if he wanders off and gets turned into potion ingredients, it won't be funny."
"Gurgle…" Leif tucked himself deeper into Neville's arms.
"See? Not stupid." Charlie chuckled.
At some point the chamber had filled with pale blue, semi-transparent ghosts drifting through the air.
One of them noticed the commotion and floated closer. "Pets bought in Diagon Alley are usually as clever as dogs—especially toads, cats, and owls. Those three started as ordinary animals, but after centuries of wizard breeding they're proper magical creatures now. The magic is in the brains. Even without spells they're extraordinary. Same as Muggles—don't know magic but still figured out—"
She caught herself and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, I do go on. I'm the Ravenclaw ghost—used to be Professor of Muggle Studies. Welcome to Ravenclaw whenever you like."
Charlie looked at her. Long flowing hair, wearing a nightgown, lying flat in mid-air like she was on the world's comfiest bed.
Ravenclaw ghost… wasn't she supposed to be Rowena's daughter?
His memories of the books were fuzzy on ghosts, but this woman didn't match the description at all.
"Thanks for the explanation, ma'am." Charlie touched the brim of his hat and gave a small bow. "May I ask your name?"
"Lady Ellen, please." The ghost smiled.
Not Rowena's daughter, then.
Must be an original character.
Charlie leaned back against the door. "I'll remember that for next time."
"Sly little one." Lady Ellen laughed and drifted away.
At the front of the room the doors opened again.
Professor McGonagall returned, lined the boys and girls into two neat columns, and led them out.
The Great Hall stretched before them—four long tables running its length. At the far end, a shorter, more ornate table sat on a raised platform where the professors waited.
Behind them hung four enormous banners, each showing an animal:
Left side—badger on yellow, serpent on green.
Right side—lion on red, eagle on blue.
The first-years stood in the middle aisle.
At the front of the hall, on a simple stool, rested a pointed hat.
As the students filed in, the hall grew quiet.
While Charlie was still staring at the starry ceiling and the hundreds of floating candles, the hat twitched.
"You might think I'm not pretty,
But never judge by looks alone…
Because I am a thinking cap!"
The song ended on a high, dramatic note.
Charlie felt like he needed a moonlight chocolate just to recover.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a long scroll.
"When I call your name, come forward to be sorted.
Hannah Abbott!"
Hannah trotted up. Just like she'd predicted on the boat, the hat shouted—
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
Alphabetical by last name, then. That put Charlie near the end—W.
Plenty of time.
He went back to admiring the hall. The starry ceiling, Hagrid slipping in from the side with two candles floating ahead of him, the candles joining the rest above like they had minds of their own.
These tiny living details you could only see in person were what truly took his breath away.
Then a tidal wave of cheering erupted.
"We've got Potter! We've got Potter!!"
Charlie looked toward the front of the line, then at the roaring Gryffindor table.
The reason was obvious.
The ceremony continued. Neville and Hermione both went to Gryffindor, just like the books.
Soon McGonagall's voice rang out again.
"Charlie Wonka!"
Charlie started to raise his hand—then Alice spun in mid-air, turned back into a rabbit, and dropped to the floor in front of the entire school.
For some reason he suddenly remembered his joke on the train: "Oh, please don't report me."
Clearly no need for reports now.
"Aw, so cute!"
"It's a transfiguring rabbit!"
"Rule-breaker."
The last comment came from the Slytherin table. Charlie caught it but kept walking, calmly scanning the professors' faces.
Dumbledore was smiling. McGonagall's eye twitched and her lips pressed tight, but she said nothing.
All clear.
He sat on the four-legged stool. McGonagall placed the hat on his head, and a voice spoke directly into his ear.
"Ah, a cheeky little rule-breaker, eh? I already had the perfect place in mind, but—hmm—"
"The perfect place wouldn't happen to be Gryffindor, would it?" Charlie thought back.
"Exactly. But after a closer look I apologise for the snap judgement. I need to think carefully.
Mild-mannered overall… but plenty of little schemes rattling around. Hufflepuff? Or Gryffindor?"
"Your call," Charlie replied lightly.
He liked letting things happen naturally. Forcing himself into Hufflepuff just to "hide" would miss the whole point of Sorting.
Besides, Hufflepuff was a House, not a shelter.
If he really wanted to stay out of the plot, he could do that in Gryffindor too.
And if he was the kind of person who couldn't stay out of trouble, even Hufflepuff wouldn't save him.
"Thank you for the trust, lad. Slytherin would suit you too—those little schemes of yours are quite colourful."
"An orphan trying to survive has to pick up a few colours along the way." Charlie grinned inside his head.
(Of course that was a lie. Those colourful little schemes came from his previous life in the adult world.)
The hat pondered a moment longer, then spoke slowly.
"Not entirely honest, brave enough to challenge authority, but lacking the reckless charge-forward attitude of a true Gryffindor.
Some ambition for fame, fortune, and victory—but only a little.
Between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw… which do you prefer?"
It was throwing the choice back at him.
Hmm…
"Which House has sun and moon?" he asked.
The Sorting Hat didn't answer.
It simply shouted aloud:
"RAVENCLAW!!"