The train reached Hogsmeade after dark.
By then the compartments had settled into that tired, overfull disorder particular to long journeys with children in them. Sweet wrappers stuck to seats. Trunks had migrated. Voices rose and fell in the corridor, thinner now than they had been in the afternoon, worn down by excitement and sugar and the simple fact of hours passing.
Adrian had kept mostly to himself, which required less effort than conversation would have. People still appeared. A thin boy with freckles opened the compartment by mistake, apologized, then looked at Adrian as though trying to remember whether he had meant to come here after all. The brown-haired girl from earlier returned once, announced in a tone of hard-won competence that the toad had been found, and left without waiting to discover whether anyone cared. Somewhere farther down the corridor, Harry Potter's name moved again through the train in scraps and half-whispers.
There he is.
No, the other compartment.
Did you really see it?
Don't be stupid, of course he did.
Some names arrived ahead of the person carrying them.
By the time the brakes began their long metallic protest, the windows had turned black enough to reflect the compartment back at him. Adrian stood, took down his trunk, and waited while the corridor jammed with students trying not to look as though they were in one another's way.
When he stepped down onto the platform, cold struck him hard enough to feel clean.
Lanterns swung in the dark. Steam dragged low over the ground. The station itself seemed little more than a strip of wet stone between the train and open night, with hills rising beyond and trees black against a sky the color of old iron.
Then a voice rolled across all of it.
"Firs' years. Firs' years over here."
Adrian turned.
The man holding the lantern looked less like a school employee than something that had reluctantly agreed to wear a coat. He was enormous. Not merely tall. Broad in a way that made ordinary scale seem badly planned. Hair and beard merged into one dark mass around a face made unexpectedly gentle by the lantern light.
Hagrid, then.
Students began drifting toward him at once. Adrian followed with his trunk bumping against the stones behind him.
Hagrid peered over the crowd. "All right there, Harry?"
There it was again. The slight movement through the group, almost too small to name. Attention bending. Not everyone turned, but enough. Adrian caught only a glimpse of Harry between shoulders and trunks: dark hair, glasses, the red-haired boy beside him.
Hagrid's whole expression changed when he looked at Harry. It softened without becoming weak. Familiarity, perhaps. Affection certainly.
Adrian stored that away.
"Right," Hagrid said, clapping his hands once with a sound like two planks striking together. "Follow me. Mind the step."
The path downward was steep, slick, and apparently designed by someone with no affection for first-years. Mud pulled at shoes. Stones shifted. Branches scraped at cloaks and hair. The air smelled of lake water, leaves, wet bark, and cold earth. Someone behind Adrian let out a small shriek every time the ground dropped unexpectedly. Another boy, somewhere near the front, kept asking whether there were wolves.
Nobody answered him. That seemed unkind, but effective.
Then the line rounded a bend and the path opened.
The reaction passed through the first-years in silence before anyone found breath for it.
Hogwarts stood across the black water, lit from within by hundreds of windows, every tower and turret and impossible line of stone rising out of the dark as though the castle had not been built but called up. Light trembled in long broken columns across the lake. High above, narrow windows shone like watchful eyes.
Adrian stopped with everyone else.
He had expected scale. Grandeur, perhaps. The sort of old-world theatricality magical institutions seemed to favour.
This was something else.
For one strange second, the castle did not feel like architecture at all. It felt alive in the oldest, least useful sense of the word. Not moving. Not breathing. Simply present in a way that dwarfed ordinary certainty.
"Four to a boat," Hagrid called.
The spell broke. Students stumbled forward.
Adrian found himself sharing a boat with three others: the round-faced boy with the toad, a pale girl holding a basket from which a cat's ears just showed, and a narrow-shouldered dark-haired boy who had the fixed look of someone trying very hard not to appear frightened and achieving mostly the opposite.
The boat rocked sharply when they climbed in.
No one spoke for several seconds. Water tapped softly at the wood.
Then the round-faced boy swallowed and said, "Do you think the giant squid eats people?"
The pale girl looked at him with immediate disapproval. "No."
"It might," said the dark-haired boy quietly.
"It won't," the girl said.
"Hagrid might own something that does," Adrian said.
Three heads turned.
The round-faced boy blinked. "Why would he?"
Adrian glanced toward the giant, who was guiding boats as if this were all perfectly ordinary. "He looks like a man who trusts creatures he shouldn't."
The round-faced boy made a sound halfway between a laugh and worry.
The boats began to move.
No oars dipped. No visible rope pulled. They simply glided over the black lake in a cluster beneath the castle lights. The cold sharpened over the open water. Ripples touched the hull in hollow little sounds. Somewhere behind them, a girl gasped softly and did not stop looking up.
Adrian did not stop looking either.
The castle changed as they approached. New angles emerged. Arched bridges. Higher towers hidden behind lower ones. Walls nested inside walls. Windows cut into stone at heights no sensible person would have chosen. Hogwarts did not seem designed to be understood all at once.
That, more than the size of it, appealed to him.
They passed beneath a dark outcrop where the cliff overhung the water. Lantern light skipped over wet stone, and then they were in a sort of underground harbour, water turning blacker still beneath the low ceiling. Hagrid led them out. Steps followed. Many steps. Too many. The air smelled of damp rock and old cold.
At the top, before an enormous oak door, Hagrid raised one vast fist and knocked three times.
The door opened almost at once.
Professor McGonagall stood framed in the entrance, straight-backed and severe in dark green robes. Her hair was pulled tightly back. The expression on her face suggested that whatever disorder the first-years represented, she had encountered worse and remained unconvinced by all of it.
"The first-years, Professor," Hagrid said.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I shall take them from here."
Her voice was crisp enough to iron fabric.
She led them not into the hall itself, but into a smaller chamber just off it, where the stone walls held the sound of distant voices and clinking cutlery like water behind a door. Adrian could hear the Great Hall before he saw it. Hundreds of people, perhaps more. The layered noise of expectation and appetite.
McGonagall turned to face them.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said.
At once the room went still in the curious, total way children can manage when they sense that something official is happening.
"The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony. Your House will become your family here at Hogwarts for the next seven years. It will shape your classes, your friends, your dormitory, your life at this school."
She paused, as if letting that sink in.
"The four Houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each has its own history, its own traditions, its own strengths. Gryffindor values courage, daring, nerve, and chivalry. Hufflepuff values hard work, loyalty, patience, and fair play. Ravenclaw values intelligence, wit, wisdom, and learning. Slytherin values ambition, cunning, resourcefulness, and pride."
Adrian listened carefully. The categories were neat. Too neat, perhaps. People rarely fit so cleanly into boxes. But the system existed, and systems were always worth understanding.
McGonagall glanced down at a scroll in her hand. "The Sorting will take place in the Great Hall. You will line up and approach the Sorting Hat, which will place you in the House where you belong."
She paused again. This time her gaze swept the room with a sharpness that made several first-years shrink back slightly.
"Now," she said, "wait here quietly until I come for you."
She left the chamber, closing the door behind her with a soft click that seemed to carry more weight than necessary.
The silence did not last long.
The round-faced boy turned to Adrian. "What do you think it feels like? The Sorting Hat?"
Adrian considered. "Probably like being judged by a piece of fabric."
The boy laughed. "You think it talks?"
"Everyone says so."
"Will it know things about us?"
"Probably," Adrian said. "That's the point."
The pale girl rolled her eyes. "It's a hat. It can't know anything."
"Then why does everyone use it?"
"Tradition," she said, as if that explained everything.
Adrian watched them argue quietly, half-listening, half-watching the door. Outside, the Great Hall noise shifted. A cheer went up, then faded. Someone laughed loudly.
Then the door opened again.
McGonagall stood there. "It is time."
The first-years lined up quickly, some pushing, some stumbling, some trying to look as though they had not been waiting with every muscle tensed. Adrian joined the line somewhere in the middle.
The Great Hall took his breath away.
It was vast. High ceilings. Long tables loaded with food. Hundreds of students sitting on either side, faces turned toward them. Floating candles hung from the ceiling, casting warm light over everything. The walls were lined with portraits of old men and women, some of whom nodded or smiled or waved as the first-years passed. At the far end, the staff table sat on a raised platform, with Dumbledore at the head of it, silver hair and beard glowing in the candlelight.
He was watching them. Not merely observing. Watching with that same quiet intensity Adrian had seen in the letter's signature.
Adrian looked away quickly.
The Sorting Hat sat on a stool in the middle of the hall, frayed and patched and looking as though it had seen far more than it cared to remember. Beside it lay a scroll with names written on it in neat black ink.
McGonagall began calling names.
"Abbott, Hannah!"
A girl with blonde hair stepped forward. She put the hat on her head. It paused for a moment, then shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!"
The Hufflepuff table erupted in cheers. Hannah ran toward them, face pink with relief.
The next name was "Bell, Katie!" She was sorted into Gryffindor. Then "Bones, Susan!" Hufflepuff. "Boot, Terry!" Ravenclaw.
Adrian watched each time. The hat spoke quickly for most students. A few took longer, but not by much. It seemed to have a knack for knowing what to say.
Then came "Granger, Hermione!"
The brown-haired girl from the train stepped forward. She put the hat on her head. It paused for a long moment, so long that the hall went quiet. Then it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"
The Gryffindor table cheered loudly. Hermione ran toward them, face bright with pride.
Adrian watched her go. Interesting. She had seemed like a Ravenclaw to him. But the hat had seen something else.
Then came "Longbottom, Neville!"
The round-faced boy from the boat stepped forward. He looked terrified. He put the hat on his head. It paused for a moment, then shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!"
The Hufflepuff table cheered. Neville ran toward them, face red with relief.
Adrian smiled faintly. That had been the right choice.
Then came "Malfoy, Draco!"
A boy with blonde hair and a sneer stepped forward. He put the hat on his head. It paused for a moment, then shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"
The Slytherin table erupted in cheers. Draco ran toward them, face smug with satisfaction.
Adrian watched him go. Malfoy had fit neatly into his box. That was no surprise.
Then came "Potter, Harry!"
The hall went silent.
Harry stepped forward. He looked nervous, but also determined. He put the hat on his head. It paused for a very long moment, so long that the hall seemed to hold its breath. Then it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"
The Gryffindor table cheered so loudly that the portraits on the walls stirred. Harry ran toward them, face bright with relief.
Adrian watched him go. The hat had hesitated. That was interesting. It had seen something in Harry that had made it think twice.
Then came "Weasley, Ron!"
The red-haired boy from the train stepped forward. He put the hat on his head. It paused for a moment, then shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"
The Gryffindor table cheered again. Ron ran toward them, face red with pride.
Adrian watched him go. Ron had fit neatly into his box too. That was no surprise.
Then came "Vale, Adrian!"
Adrian stepped forward. He walked toward the stool, feeling the eyes of every student in the hall on him. He put the hat on his head.
At first, nothing happened.
Then the hat spoke inside his head.
Ah. You are an interesting one.
Adrian did not answer. He waited.
The hat paused for a long moment.
You have courage, yes. But not the sort that seeks glory. You have intelligence, yes. But not the sort that seeks knowledge for its own sake. You have ambition, yes. But not the sort that seeks power.
It paused again.
What do you want, Adrian Vale?
Adrian thought carefully.
I want to understand, he said.
Understand what?
Everything.
The hat paused for a very long moment. Then it spoke aloud.
"RAVENCLAW!"
The Ravenclaw table erupted in cheers. Adrian walked toward them, face calm, but his heart was beating fast.
As he sat down, he felt eyes on him. He looked up and saw Dumbledore watching him from the staff table. His eyes were twinkling with amusement, but there was also a hint of curiosity in them.
Adrian looked away quickly.
The banquet began. Food appeared on the tables out of nowhere. Adrian ate slowly, listening to the conversations around him. The Ravenclaw students were talking about classes, about the Sorting Hat, about Hogwarts itself. They were intelligent, witty, and curious. Adrian felt at home among them.
But he could not stop thinking about Dumbledore. He had been watching him. He had been curious about him.
Adrian knew that he would have to be careful. Dumbledore was a powerful wizard. He was a clever man. He would not be easy to fool.
And Adrian had a secret.
A secret that could change everything.
End of Chapter 4