he boats glided silently across the lake, lanterns swaying in the mist. Hogwarts rose ahead—its towers etched against the night sky, windows glowing like constellations. Ethan sat beside Hermione and Terry Boot, Cipher nestled quietly in her cage.
No one spoke. The silence wasn't awkward—it was reverent.
Ethan's fingers curled around his wand. His mind was alert, absorbing every detail: the water's texture, the castle's silhouette, the way magic pulsed in the air like static.
Approaching Hogwarts. Entry protocol: Sorting Ceremony. Outcome: House assignment. Artifact: Sentient hat. Interaction required. Variables: personality, intent, aptitude.
Aether's voice was calm, but Ethan's thoughts moved in layers. He wasn't here to chase glory. He was here to build something—quietly, precisely.
Inside the castle, the first-years were led through towering doors into the Great Hall. Candles floated overhead. Four long tables stretched across the room, each marked by its house colors. At the far end sat the staff—McGonagall, Flitwick, Snape, and others Ethan recognized from memory and Aether's briefings.
The Sorting Hat sat on a stool, old and patched, yet humming with ancient magic.
McGonagall stepped forward. "When I call your name, come forward and sit on the stool. The Sorting Hat will decide your house."
Names were called. Applause followed. Hermione was sorted into Gryffindor after a brief pause. She looked surprised, but proud.
Terry Boot was next.
The hat barely touched his head before shouting, "RAVENCLAW!"
Terry grinned and jogged to the blue-and-silver table.
Ethan's name came last.
"Ethan Blackwood."
He walked steadily to the stool, sat down, and felt the hat drop over his eyes.
Well now, said a voice inside his mind, this is a curious one.
Ethan didn't flinch.
You've got layers. Thoughtful. Reserved. And… something else. Not magical. Not emotional. Synthetic.
The hat paused.
You're hosting a companion. Not a parasite. Not a possession. It doesn't speak for you—but it advises. Strategically. You're deliberate.
"I want depth," Ethan said inwardly. "Not attention. Not dominance. Just understanding."
Hmm. You'd do well in Slytherin. You have the discipline. The long view. But you lack the hunger for control. You don't manipulate—you optimize.
"No."
Gryffindor's not a fit. You're brave, but you don't leap. Hufflepuff… you respect loyalty, but you're not driven by it.
"I value clarity. Structure. Insight."
Ah, the hat said warmly. Then it must be—
"RAVENCLAW!"
Applause echoed. Ethan stood, adjusted his robes, and walked to the Ravenclaw table. Terry scooted over to make room.
"Welcome," he said, smiling.
Ethan nodded. "Thanks."
The Sorting continued. Food appeared. Conversations bloomed. But Ethan ate quietly, scanning the room.
Initial mapping complete. Ravenclaw table: 24 students. Staff table: 11. Notable figures: Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. Head of Ravenclaw: Filius Flitwick.
Ethan absorbed it all. He wasn't here to impress. He was here to learn. To build. To evolve.
Later that night, the Ravenclaws were led to their tower by a prefect named Penelope Clearwater. The common room was circular, airy, and filled with bookshelves and star charts. A bronze eagle knocker guarded the door.
"To enter," Penelope explained, "you must answer a riddle."
She tapped the door.
"What comes once in a minute, twice in a moment, but never in a thousand years?"
Terry grinned. "The letter M."
The door swung open.
Ethan smiled faintly. He liked this system. It rewarded thought, not bloodline.
Inside, he found his bed, unpacked his trunk, and released Cipher to perch near the window. The owl blinked once, then settled into sleep.
Ethan sat on the edge of his bed, wand in hand.
Spell drills recommended. Focus: Lumos, Nox, Wingardium Leviosa. Neural fatigue: low. Optimal training window: 45 minutes.
He practiced silently, wand movements crisp, incantations precise. The spells responded faster now. The glow of Lumos was steady. Leviosa lifted a quill with ease.
But he didn't rush. He repeated each motion until it felt natural.
Terry peeked in from the doorway. "You're still practicing?"
Ethan nodded. "I like to train before bed."
Terry stepped in. "Want to try a riddle?"
Ethan smiled. "Sure."
Terry sat cross-legged on the floor. "What has keys but can't open locks?"
Ethan thought for a moment. "A piano."
Terry grinned. "You're fast."
Ethan shrugged. "I like patterns."
They sat in silence for a while, the castle quiet around them.
Ethan glanced at the stars outside. "Do you think magic has rules? Like logic?"
Terry nodded. "I think it's a system. We just haven't mapped it yet."
Ethan smiled. "Then let's start mapping."