Unfortunately, the sheer volume of icy rain ensured that the majority of young wizards huddled in the small boats were far too preoccupied with hypothermia to appreciate the dramatic, rain-lashed silhouette of Hogwarts Castle.
"Why, in the name of Merlin's soggy beard, do first-years have to cross the lake by boat?" Albert asked, retracting his gaze from the magnificent structure and looking at the three shivering figures crammed with him in the tiny craft.
"Don't know, don't care, just make it stop," Lee Jordan chattered, his teeth clicking audibly.
"Me too! We're practically frozen solid," the twins agreed miserably, already looking like they were contemplating a lifetime aversion to water. Who could focus on history or tradition when one's very core temperature was plummeting?
Albert couldn't help but shake his head at the wasted symbolism. He knew the purpose of the boat ride was more than just transportation. It was a conscious effort to make the new students follow the ancient route—the very path the four Founders had taken to the castle centuries ago. Taking the boats in groups of four wasn't random; it was meant to represent the four great founders themselves—a strange, subtle inheritance ceremony designed to connect the newest generation to the initial excitement and profound difficulty of establishing the school.
Yet, as he looked around, Albert knew the truth: how many students—how many staff, even Hagrid himself—truly understood this heritage? In reality, it was just a cold, wet boat ride. Few cared about history when they were this miserable.
"Look out, duck your heads!" Hagrid's booming voice cut through the wind and rain.
Instinctively, the freshmen hunched low. The boats glided forward, carrying them directly beneath a sheer, dark cliff face, an experience that felt both terrifying and majestic in the gloom. Moments later, they scraped against the gravel shore of a small, hidden dock nestled directly below the castle's massive foundations.
"Finally!" George exclaimed, stumbling onto the slippery stones. "That was awful. Absolutely awful." He wrapped his arms around himself and sneezed explosively.
Everyone else was in a similar state: soaked, shivering, and looking like they'd just lost a fight with the Black Lake itself.
"Albert, how did you manage that?" Lee Jordan gaped, noticing for the first time that Albert's robes looked almost perfectly dry, his pointed hat stiff and intact.
"A very simple charm," Albert answered softly, noticing the universal envy in the eyes directed at him. "I thought it might be sensible to waterproof my clothes before getting into a boat during a storm."
"Alright, everyone follow me," Hagrid instructed, hoisting his huge oil lamp high.
They began the ascent, scrambling up a winding, treacherous gravel path that led them to a vast, manicured lawn at the base of the castle. Ahead rose an imposing flight of stone steps leading directly to the immense, nail-studded oak front doors.
Standing rigid before the doors was a woman in severe, emerald-green robes. Albert recognized her immediately: Professor McGonagall, the witch who had visited his family months ago.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take charge of the first-years now," Professor McGonagall stated in a crisp voice. She surveyed the utterly demoralized group. Albert distinctly saw a tiny, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of her mouth—a fleeting sign of suppressed disapproval or maybe weary amusement—at the sight of the thoroughly drenched and mud-caked cohort.
It was entirely understandable. This ragged assembly of sodden, muddy children was hardly the dignified entrance she surely preferred.
"First-year students, follow me," she commanded, turning on her heel.
Albert joined the queue, trailing the group slightly, his eyes glued to the ancient stones of the thousand-year-old castle. "Professor McGonagall is the Head of Gryffindor," George whispered urgently. "Percy says she's absolutely terrifyingly strict."
"I met her once," Albert replied, his voice soft. "My sister was quite charmed by her trick of turning teacups into mice." His real attention, however, was fixed on the ancient stone walls and the blazing torches that illuminated them. They burned without smoke, their light steady and bright. Were they enchanted with a variation of the Fairy Fire? He wondered. Ordinary flames would have been extinguished by the rain or required constant feeding. The possibility of eternal flame was immensely satisfying.
"Come on, what are you staring at?" Fred nudged him, urging him to keep moving.
"I'm just contemplating the nature of that flame," Albert murmured. "It cannot be an ordinary combustion."
Fred was speechless for a moment, unable to pivot from his freezing misery to an academic discussion on magical thermochemistry.
Albert mentally filed the mysterious torches under "Things to Figure Out Later." This castle was a treasure trove of undocumented secrets, an explorer's dream.
As the idea of exploring the castle solidified in his mind—the deep-seated curiosity and ambition of the Alchemist taking over his initial "salted fish" goal—the familiar, discreet shimmer of his panel appeared in his mental space, overlaying his vision with a new prompt:
Thousand-Year-old School: Hogwarts Exploration
Hogwarts is an ancient and mysterious school of magic, having stood for millennia. This ancient castle hides countless unknown secrets, from hidden passages to lost chambers. As a curious seeker of knowledge, you must not miss this opportunity. Explore Hogwarts Castle before graduation and find its hidden secrets.
Current Progress: 1%
Rewards: 1,000 – 100,000 Experience Points, 1 – 10 Skill Points.
"Bloody hell!" Albert swore internally, a genuine, startled spike of excitement and apprehension shooting through him. This was, without a doubt, the most intriguing mission his system had ever presented. The sheer range of the reward pool suggested the magnitude of the task.
The system is literally forcing me into a life of nocturnal sneaking, he realized. Mastering the Disillusionment Charm—the ultimate spell for invisibility—had just been promoted from a fun side project to a mandatory, immediate priority. Albert began to calculate how quickly he could acquire the correct instructional texts and what shortcuts he could leverage.
Professor McGonagall led the first-years into a small, empty chamber just off the Great Hall—the sorting waiting room. It was not a large space, forcing the group to crowd together, the air thick with nervous dampness and anticipation.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall began, her voice crisp and formal, delivering the same introductory speech she'd given for decades. "The start-of-term feast is about to begin, but before you may take your seats in the Great Hall, you must first be sorted into your houses…"
Albert's mind drifted momentarily, comparing this to the unnecessarily lengthy corporate speeches from his past life. While Professor McGonagall wasn't quite as long-winded as a CEO opening an annual shareholder meeting, she still spoke for a good ten minutes.
Albert mentally boiled her instructions down to three core points:
Accommodation: The Houses are your families while you're here.
Sorting: This is the singular, pivotal moment of your school life.
Competition: The House Cup will reward good behavior and academic success.
Having completed the mandatory introductory lecture, Professor McGonagall then demanded the first-years line up. The shame of their muddy, drenched appearance was clearly too much for the Deputy Headmistress.
"I cannot allow you to enter the Great Hall looking like that," she declared, her lips forming a thin, severe line.
The freshmen huddled anxiously, desperate to dry their uncomfortable, heavy clothes. The combination of cold and wet fabric was a truly miserable feeling.
"Are we to be squeezed together like sardines for this drying procedure?" Albert murmured, stepping back to deliberately position himself at the very end of the line. The minor chill didn't bother him, and he had no desire to be crushed in the damp throng.
Professor McGonagall moved with practiced, academic speed, deploying Descaling and Drying Charms with swift, precise flicks of her wand. She was an absolute master of efficiency. Within minutes, the line had nearly reached Albert.
When it was finally his turn, she paused. Her sharp eyes lingered on his dry, neat robes, noting the stark contrast between his pristine state and the disaster that was the rest of the class. A flicker of surprise crossed her face—a brief recognition of the unusual student she had visited. Nevertheless, she performed the ritual, casting the charm. His clothes instantly became warm, removing any lingering chill, and the tiny splatters of mud on his boots and trousers vanished.
"Now, please remain silent," Professor McGonagall announced, her voice ringing out. "I will return when the Great Hall is ready for you."
As soon as she left the room, the controlled silence shattered. Everyone erupted in nervous whispers about the looming ceremony.
"How exactly do they sort us?" "What kind of test will it be? Is it written?" "Will they ask us questions about magic? I haven't learned anything yet!"
Panic was beginning to set in. The idea of a surprise examination terrified the children who knew they had only begun to scratch the surface of magic.
Albert watched the spectacle with genuine amusement. He understood instantly why the older students and staff deliberately kept the Sorting Hat ceremony a secret. What a spectacularly malicious prank.
He admitted that, yes, he had a bit of a bad taste—a streak of impish delight in observing others squirm.
"You're not nervous at all?" A girl approached him. Her name was Alia Spinnet, and she was the same girl Albert had helped pull up from the mud on the path. She was now clean and presentable, but clearly anxious. "You seem… calm. Like you know something."
Alia had guessed correctly. Albert's composure, standing tall and dry amidst the frayed nerves, made him look like a sage.
"As long as I don't end up in Slytherin, I'll be perfectly fine," Albert replied with an easy shrug. He had no intention of spoiling the fun. The freshmen's bewildered, terrified faces were far too entertaining.