The air was thick with silent anticipation. Alister walked toward the stool with a measured, confident stride. He sat down, and Professor McGonagall gently placed the old, frayed hat on his head. The brim of the hat fell over his eyes, plunging him into profound, suffocating darkness.
A voice, old and wise, echoed in his mind. "What's going on? Why can't I read anything about you?" The voice was a blend of confusion and alarm—a powerful being baffled by the boy it was meant to sort.
Alister understood instantly. The Hat was trying to read his mind, but his Tier 3 magical power and his connection to the World Core had made his mind an impenetrable fortress. The Hat's magic, while ancient and powerful, was not enough to penetrate the raw, unrefined energy of his core.
System, he commanded silently, filter my memory. Show the Hat what it needs to see. Nothing more.
A moment later, a new voice—the Hat's voice—sounded in his mind again, this time with profound relief. "Finally! I can see!"
The Hat's voice then began to analyze his mind, listing his qualities in a way that felt both professional and profoundly personal. "I see a thirst for knowledge, a mind as sharp as any Ravenclaw's. I see profound courage, a willingness to face danger that would put any Gryffindor to shame. I see a drive to succeed at any cost, a terrifying ambition that would make any Slytherin proud."
Alister's mind absorbed the information. He was a perfect fit for three of the four houses. But he had to know. "What about Hufflepuff?" he asked silently.
The Hat's voice, which had been so sure and confident, now held a note of profound, almost mournful certainty. "Hufflepuff? No. How can the simple, loyal, and unambitious Hufflepuff accommodate your terrifying ambition of changing the whole world?"
The voice fell silent for a moment, and when it returned, it carried a sound of finality. "Now that I see, your ambition far outclasses any other qualities you have. You have the cleverness of a Slytherin, the bravery of a Gryffindor, and the mind of a Ravenclaw, but they are all fueled by your terrifying ambition. But I give the final choice to you. Where do you wish to be?"
Alister's mind weighed the options. The Hat had given him a choice, and his choice would determine his path.
Ravenclaw: A path of knowledge. Alister's perfect memory and the System's processing power rendered this a redundant option. He only needed access to the books, and as he had learned, professors couldn't deny a student from another house any help related to studies. He didn't need to be in the house of knowledge to acquire it. Ravenclaw was out.
Gryffindor: A path of heroism, public attention, leadership. Alister knew that for what he was about to do, fame would find him eventually, but he didn't need to seek it out. Fame was a liability, not an asset. Gryffindor was out.
Slytherin: A path of power and cunning. The Hat's words had sealed it. The house for those who would do anything to achieve their goals.
For him, who had outclassed every student in knowledge and magical potential, the house would be a perfect fit. He would be a lion among sheep—those who followed and obeyed the strong. The house was also the collection of influential families in the wizarding world, a place where he could acquire all the tools he needed for his endeavor.
His choice was clear. It was the only logical choice, the only path that led to his true goal.
"SLYTHERIN!" the hat roared to the silent hall.
The silence in the hall was broken by a sudden, calculating roar of applause. The Slytherin table, a sea of green and silver, erupted in a cold, measured cheer. Alister walked toward his new house, his steps measured and confident.
He slid into a seat at the end of the table. The other students were a mix of curiosity and cold calculation. They weren't cheering for him; they were cheering for the name Potter, for the time the Sorting Hat had spent on his sorting.
A boy with dull eyes leaned across the table. "A Potter," the boy said, his voice a low, lazy drawl. "In Slytherin. My father said a Potter would never be sorted here."
Alister looked at him, his gaze unwavering.
The boy leaned in closer. "My name is Enzo Nott. I take it we will be seeing a lot of each other."
Alister's mind ran a quick analysis. Nott. Family of Death Eaters. Pure-blood. A valuable resource. He saw the boy not as a friend, but as a tool.
"We will," Alister replied, a flicker of a smile on his face. "I'm sure we'll have much to talk about."
The noise of the Great Hall returned to a dull roar. Alister sat at the Slytherin table without a word, his gaze fixed on the head table. At the center of it all, a man with a long, flowing white beard and a kind, intelligent gaze was seated.
The man rose, his presence silencing the entire hall. His voice, though soft, carried immense authority. "I welcome you all to Hogwarts! I hope your year is filled with wonder and learning. Now, before we all eat, a few words. To the first years, a few reminders. The Forbidden Forest is, as its name implies, forbidden."
System, he thought, his question a silent command. Identify the old man at the head table. Assess his power.
The System's mechanical voice was immediate and final.
[Analysis of Magical Being: Albus Dumbledore]
[Identity: Albus Dumbledore. Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.]
[Magical Tier: Tier 3 (Arch-Magus)]
[Assessment: Dumbledore's magical power is at the absolute pinnacle of this world's current capabilities. He is a genius of incredible scope and a wizard of immense power. His power is limited by the current magical state of the world.]
Alister's eyes widened, a flicker of genuine shock passing over his face. He hadn't expected to meet a wizard of this level so soon.
Soon, the feast began with a magnificent spread of food appearing on the golden plates. The Slytherin table was filled with roasts, potatoes, vegetables, and puddings. Alister, with his heightened senses, was able to discern the rich aromas of the food as well as the unique magical energy that infused the hall itself.
The hall was a cacophony of sound—the clatter of silverware on plates, the low murmur of conversation, and the occasional burst of loud laughter from the Gryffindor table. He observed his fellow Slytherins, a mix of first-years and older students.
Some ate with refined manners, while others were less concerned with etiquette. Their conversations were a mix of gossip, talk of their families, and ambitious whispers about their classes and future.
He glanced at the head table again. Dumbledore was speaking to a stern-looking professor with a long, hooked nose, who appeared to be the head of their house—a Tier 2 wizard.
Soon, the last morsel of food vanished from the golden plates, and with a final, booming announcement from Dumbledore, the Great Hall emptied. The first-year Slytherins were led by an older student, a prefect, through a maze of corridors and down a flight of stairs that seemed to shift with every step.
Alister, with his perfect memory, committed the layout to his mind, the twists and turns of the castle becoming a familiar map.
They came to a stop in front of a bare stretch of stone wall. The prefect said a single word: "Pureblood." The wall rippled and swung open, revealing a hidden passageway.
The prefect led them into the Slytherin common room, a vast chamber with high ceilings and a roaring fireplace. The room was bathed in green, watery light from windows that looked out into the depths of the lake, and a faint, cool smell hung in the air.
Alister was handed a key to his assigned room. He walked into a spartan chamber with two beds and a small window that looked out onto the bottom of the lake. His roommate was already there—the boy with dull eyes, Enzo Nott.
Alister ignored his roommate and turned to his bed. On his nightstand, a small handwritten note with his school schedule was placed.
His first class was Transfiguration in the morning, a course whose basics he had already mastered, and the second was Potions in the evening—the course he was most excited about. From what he had read, he had high expectations from this field, which he had yet to begin.
He lay in bed and fell asleep while contemplating his future.
The Next Morning
Alister's eyes snapped open to the sight of faint, greenish light filtering through his window. The hum of the lake outside was a soothing, constant sound. He lay still for a moment, then looked at his roommate, Enzo Nott. He was still asleep.
Alister got up, his movements silent and precise. He got dressed in his school uniform—a simple black robe that hung loosely on his frame. He checked his pockets, ensuring his wand, his money, and his school schedule were all in place. He was ready.
He left the room, leaving Enzo to his slumber, and made his way to the common room. It was empty, a quiet, peaceful chamber—a stark contrast to the chaos of the Great Hall. He walked out of the common room, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the silent, empty corridors. He made his way to the Great Hall, processing every detail of the castle.
He arrived at the Great Hall, which was bathed in the warm, golden light of morning. The hall was filled with students, their faces a mix of sleepy exhaustion and quiet anticipation. He sat at the Slytherin table, his gaze fixed on the head table, where the teachers were already seated. He ate his breakfast in silence.
The walk to the Transfiguration classroom was a winding, confusing journey through the castle's ever-shifting staircases. Alister, with his perfect memory, had already committed the layout to mind, but the stairs seemed to have a will of their own, twisting and turning in a way that would have made an ordinary person dizzy.
He arrived at his classroom—a large, open chamber with a high ceiling and a blackboard—just as the rest of the class was beginning to arrive.
He walked to the back of the classroom and took a seat at the end of a long table, his gaze fixed on a small tabby cat sitting on the teacher's desk. The cat's eyes were sharp and intelligent, and a powerful hum of magic emanated from its small body. This was no ordinary cat.
He noticed that the class was a joint one, a mix of Slytherin and Ravenclaw. A few moments later, the seat beside him was occupied by Cho Chang, her face a mix of excitement and anticipation. "Alister! I'm glad I found you," she said, her voice a hushed whisper. "This is my first class. It's so exciting!"
Alister gave her a curt nod, his gaze still fixed on the cat. Cho, however, was undeterred. She began to talk about her experience at Ravenclaw, her voice a low, excited murmur. She told him about the common room, the students, and the strange, quirky riddles they had to solve just to get in. She spoke with innocent wonder.
While talking, she stood up to reach her hand toward the cat on the teacher's desk.
"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," Alister said, his voice a low, calm warning. Cho, startled, pulled her hand back, her face a mixture of confusion.
Soon, it was time for class to start. The cat on the teacher's desk, which had been a placid, harmless creature a moment ago, now looked at them with cold, piercing intelligence.
A flicker of something passed over its face, and then, in a silent, seamless motion, its body began to elongate. Its bones twisted and turned, its fur receded, its form shifted. A moment later, a tall, stern-looking woman in a long, emerald-green robe stood in its place.
Professor McGonagall.
Alister had an amused expression on his face as he watched Cho breathe a sigh of relief.
McGonagall looked at the stunned faces of her students, and a faint smile touched her lips. "It's good that no one is late on the first day," she said, her voice crisp and clear. "My name is Professor McGonagall, and I am your Transfiguration teacher."
She walked to the blackboard and, with a flick of her wand, a long, ornate diagram appeared on it, its lines glowing faintly. "Transfiguration is a complex and dangerous branch of magic," she said, her voice filled with stern authority. "It is the art of changing the form of objects and living beings, and if done incorrectly, the results can be... disastrous."
She paused, her sharp eyes sweeping across the classroom. "Today, we begin with the fundamentals."
(END OF CHAPTER)
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