Night had already fallen outside, and the magical lamps inside the compartment had long since been lit.
Matthew was reading a travelogue. In his spare time, he occasionally flipped through miscellaneous books—sometimes they contained surprisingly useful clues.
Neville had fallen asleep, clutching his toad, while Hermione, still anxious, sat nearby muttering to herself as she read from a book.
Jerry shot Matthew a disdainful look. This guy loved teasing first-years—he himself had been fooled by Matthew back then.
"In five minutes, the train will arrive at Hogwarts. Please leave your luggage on the train—we will deliver it to the school for you."
The conductor's voice echoed through every carriage.
The train gradually slowed before finally coming to a stop.
After a ten-hour journey, they had at last reached their destination.
Despite the announcement, Neville was still sleeping soundly.
"We're here," Matthew said, patting Neville on the shoulder to wake him.
As Neville stirred awake, Matthew stood, straightening his robes.
"Time to get off. Someone will take you first-years for your entrance test. We'll part ways here—see you around."
Neville instantly snapped awake, his sleepiness gone. He grabbed his books from the seat, his face turning pale.
"Oh no! There's an entrance test? I fell asleep—I didn't memorize anything!"
Was he going to be expelled? Would he become the first Longbottom ever expelled from Hogwarts? How would he even face his grandmother?
Hermione paid them no mind. She was holding One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, murmuring its contents under her breath as she tried to memorize everything.
Matthew smiled faintly.
He hadn't lied, there was an "entrance test." It just happened to be the Sorting Hat ceremony. All they needed to do was put on the hat, and the "test" would be complete.
Matthew and Jerry stepped off the train first, walking along the platform toward the line of horseless carriages.
From the other side of the platform, a booming voice called out:
"First-years! First-years, this way!"
The man speaking was enormous—towering over the new students, most of whom barely reached his thigh. He held up a lantern, making himself easy to spot.
It was Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.
Jerry picked a carriage and grumbled, "No one cleans these? Half of them are moldy."
He took out his wand and gave the carriage a quick cleaning.
Matthew raised an eyebrow as he noticed a blond boy walking toward them.
"Hey, Geralt. Finished with your girlfriend already?" Jerry called out.
Geralt scratched his head awkwardly. "Pansy's a first-year—she still has to go through the Sorting."
Matthew found the name vaguely familiar.
"You don't even spare first-years? Your taste is impressively… broad," Jerry remarked dryly.
Once the three of them were seated, the carriage began to roll forward with a gentle sway. Geralt enthusiastically recounted his busy summer.
Before long, the carriage came to a stop beside the stone steps leading up to the castle doors.
Geralt, seated on the outside, jumped down first, muttering, "I'm starving… and we still have the Sorting ceremony to get through."
All the snacks he had brought had been eaten by Pansy along the way.
"I've still got sandwiches," Matthew said, pulling out three and handing one each to Jerry and Geralt.
"Oh, Matthew, you're as reliable as ever!" Geralt devoured his sandwich in large bites—it was clear he really was hungry.
The three of them ate as they made their way toward the Great Hall.
Jerry chuckled. "So which family is your new girlfriend from? What if she gets sorted into Gryffindor?"
Geralt stuffed the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and mumbled through it,
"The Parkinson family. And it's not like I've never dated a Gryffindor before. Besides, there's no way she'll end up there—she's definitely a Slytherin."
Pansy Parkinson?
Matthew recalled the name—wasn't she Draco Malfoy's future girlfriend?
Jerry immediately mocked him, "I remember when your Gryffindor ex dumped you—she poured ink all over your head."
Geralt swallowed his food and said proudly, "That was when I was still inexperienced. A true Slytherin doesn't make the same mistake twice."
Since then, Geralt had made it a rule to break up before pursuing someone new.
When they entered the Great Hall, they found seats in the middle of the Slytherin table.
Geralt enthusiastically greeted the girls nearby, quickly striking up conversations.
Matthew glanced toward the staff table—
—and found himself meeting the gaze of an elderly man with a long white beard. Behind his half-moon spectacles, his bright blue eyes seemed to sparkle with keen awareness.
When their eyes met, the old man offered a gentle smile.
Matthew could only return it politely.
A few seconds later, Albus Dumbledore looked away as if nothing had happened and resumed speaking with Professor Snape.
Matthew had the distinct feeling he had just been added to Dumbledore's watchlist.
He couldn't understand why. To all appearances, he was merely a top student in his year.
As for past conflicts with other students—those were hardly unusual in Slytherin.
The House was full of pure-blood supremacists, but there were also many half-bloods. The tension between them was inevitable.
A sudden commotion came from the entrance of the Great Hall as Professor McGonagall led the first-years inside.
The new students looked nervous and uncertain, unsure of what awaited them.
At that moment, Professor Quirrell entered in a fluster, arriving late. A turban was wrapped around his head.
Matthew glanced at it.
He knew that Voldemort was currently attached to the back of Quirrell's head—the turban served to conceal his face.
Quirrell quickly took a seat as far away from Dumbledore as possible.
Professor McGonagall placed a four-legged stool before the students and set a worn, tattered wizard's hat upon it.
The Sorting Hat used to be filthy—
—until it had encountered Matthew.
He had washed it thoroughly with Aguamenti.
At the time, it had screamed:
"Azkaban! Azkaban! You belong in Azkaban!!!"
The Great Hall fell silent.
Then the Sorting Hat began to sing its newly composed song—a piece it had spent an entire year perfecting.
"Look, that's Harry Potter, the one with the scar on his forehead," Jerry said, pointing toward the first-years.
Harry walked alongside Ron. Hermione and Neville were not with them—because of Matthew's earlier interference, they had not yet become acquainted.
Matthew found himself curious.
What kind of changes would this bring?
Would the famous "Golden Trio" even form?
When the Sorting Hat finished its song, Professor McGonagall stepped forward, holding a roll of parchment.
"When I call your name, you will come forward, put on the hat, and sit on the stool to be sorted."
She glanced down at the parchment.
"Hannah Abbott!"
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