As night deepened, the train finally reached its destination.
Pushing her luggage off the train, Penelope glanced at the familiar castle silhouette in the distance and smiled at Orsaga.
"Junior, I'm heading off first!. The paths for new students and returning students don't connect—we'll meet again inside the school!"
With that, she and her friends boarded a carriage pulled by thestrals.
Orsaga replied calmly,
"Mm. See you later."
His gaze shifted toward a towering figure not far off.
"First-years, over here! I'm Hagrid. Your luggage and pets will be delivered to your dorms. I'll be taking you to Hogwarts now—please board one of the small boats over here…"
One look at the man's towering height, bushy beard, limb proportions, and the skeletal structure revealed beneath his outer layer of flesh, and Orsaga easily concluded: this Hagrid fellow wasn't entirely human—or at least not a full-blooded one.
Still, he didn't care much.
From Hagrid's gaze, expressions, and behavior, Orsaga estimated his intelligence level was about average to slightly below for a human. His personality suggested a mix of carelessness and low self-esteem, with a 99% likelihood of being a big softie.
In other words—harmless.
Not someone worth worrying about.
After handing off his luggage and pet to the designated handlers, Orsaga boarded one of the small boats.
They were no more than two or three meters in length, each with a glowing lantern affixed to the bow.
They looked like ordinary wooden boats.
But with his magical senses, Orsaga could clearly detect that each boat was enchanted—nearly unsinkable as long as no one did anything reckless, and warded against certain creatures. They also navigated autonomously.
Soon, everyone had taken their seats.
Except for Hagrid, who took up an entire boat by himself, most boats held four or five students each.
Orsaga was no exception. He shared his boat with a few others.
Leading them was a blond boy who, after staring at Orsaga quietly seated at the stern—serene and distant, idly trailing his fingers through the water—finally mustered the courage to speak:
"Hey, hello there!. I'm Draco Malfoy, a proud pure-blood wizard!. These are my friends: Crabbe and Goyle!"
His father had taught him to always try to win over strong individuals.
And even though Orsaga hadn't spoken a word, Draco could tell—he was a strong one.
So, naturally, he wanted to befriend him.
Orsaga, having no strong opinion on the matter, casually introduced himself:
"Orsaga. Not sure if the term 'pure-blood' applies to me."
Most of the time, he was a polite and friendly demon.
Upon hearing Orsaga wasn't pure-blood, Draco instinctively showed a flicker of arrogance—his upbringing kicking in.
But remembering his father's teachings, he quickly looked for another topic to keep the conversation going:
"You know what?. The Boy Who Lived—Harry Potter, the Savior of the Wizarding World—he's starting at Hogwarts today too!. I can't wait to meet him. I just know we'll be friends…"
His face was glowing with excitement.
After all, he'd grown up hearing stories about Harry Potter. In his mind, Harry was destined for greatness. And he, being a fellow child of destiny, was convinced they were bound to become close.
Orsaga didn't interrupt—he just quietly listened as Draco rambled on.
He didn't mind hearing others talk.
To him, it was simply another form of background noise—something to break up the monotony of everyday life.
Roughly ten minutes later, the boats reached shore. The students disembarked and began climbing a medieval-style stone staircase.
After winding through a few turns in the corridors, they were greeted by a stern-looking woman in robes, who radiated discipline from head to toe. She stood before a grand doorway and addressed the new students:
"Welcome to Hogwarts. In a moment, you will enter the Great Hall and join the rest of the student body. But before you're seated, there's one matter to attend to—Sorting."
"The four houses are: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. While at school, your house will be your home.
Your good behavior earns points. Poor behavior, you lose them. At year's end, the house with the highest score wins the House Cup. Now take a moment to compose yourselves—the sorting ceremony will begin shortly."
She turned to lead them inside.
But just then, Draco, spotting the lightning-shaped scar on a certain boy's forehead, exclaimed excitedly:
"So the rumors on the train were true—Harry Potter really is at Hogwarts!"
At the mention of that name, a ripple of excitement spread through the crowd.
Everyone—main characters and background extras alike—began whispering to each other. The name Harry Potter was legendary.
Even the hidden Purgators among the students looked visibly thrilled, eager to blend in and play their parts.
Only Orsaga showed zero interest in pretending—he simply looked around indifferently.
Watching everyone's reaction, Draco beamed proudly and began introducing his entourage to Harry:
"These are Crabbe and Goyle."
Then, stepping forward, he offered his hand:
And I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."
Off to the side, Ron Weasley couldn't help but snort at the over-the-top introduction.
Draco, annoyed by the laughter—especially since he felt Ron was ruining his moment with Harry—turned and snapped:
"What's so funny?. You think my name is a joke?. I don't need to ask who you are. Red hair, hand-me-down robes—you must be a Weasley."
His tone was dripping with disdain.
Ignoring Ron's furious glare, Draco turned back to Harry with a smirk:
"You'll soon find out, Potter—some wizarding families are just better than others."
"You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort."
He glanced sideways at Ron again, his meaning obvious.
Then, in front of everyone, Draco extended his hand once more:
"I can help you, you know."
Harry stared at the offered hand.
He was already furious—Draco had just insulted Ron, who had been nothing but kind. And worse, Draco's tone reminded him of Dudley—his arrogant, elitist cousin.
So Harry didn't even hesitate:
"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."
He rejected the handshake, bluntly and publicly.
Draco froze.
He hadn't expected Harry Potter—his idol—to react like that.
His expression twisted in disbelief… and then anger. Betrayed, even.
Before he could say another word, Minerva McGonagall—having noticed the students weren't following her—walked back, tapped Draco on the shoulder, and silently motioned for him to hurry up.
Draco had no choice but to swallow his fury and step aside with a scowl.
But the fire in his heart only burned hotter.
All those years of admiring Harry Potter now turned into bitter resentment.
Orsaga observed it all with a kind of clinical detachment.
This… was the classic tale of a bootlicker getting publicly rejected by his idol and turning love into hate.
It was clear that Draco would be stirring up plenty of trouble going forward.
Had Orsaga not shown up in this world, the story would've followed a predictable arc.
But now that he was here—who knew how things would unfold?
Not even the hack author had figured that out yet.
_____
T/N:
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