Entering Hogwarts

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had four great houses.

Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff.

The four houses each represented one of the four school founders' ideals.

And the formation of a person's ideals was inseparably linked to their background, upbringing, and range of abilities.

By now, the division among the four houses was basically equivalent to four social groups.

Though there were always exceptions, most people entered a certain house and, after graduating, went on to work in fields related to that group.

Of course, the reason was not merely the atmosphere within the houses. The connections and resources they gained at school made it easier for them to develop in related fields. It was like how few people would study film for several years, then suddenly decide to go into scientific research.

Hogwarts houses were not some dead-end majors with no employment prospects. As long as one graduated, they could make a living by following the usual path.

Roger had only one thought about his house assignment: anywhere but Slytherin.

With his identity, if he ended up in Slytherin, that would be quite a spectacle! He probably would not be able to settle down and study for a long time.

From his memories of his previous life, aside from a young wizard's inner traits, the Sorting Hat would also take their own wishes into account.

But... it was better to ask, just in case.

Roger did not blindly trust the information in his memories, for two reasons.

First, Harry Potter had novels, movies, radio dramas, stage plays... Who knew which timeline this was, or what differences there might be between timelines? Roger had only watched some of the movies.

Second, from the magic books Professor McGonagall had given him, as well as the two history books in his bag, it was clear that this wizarding world was far more complex than the small glimpse presented in the films.

Just as a single state or province in a great country could not represent the complex situation of the entire nation, much less the world.

So whenever he encountered a crucial matter, even with memories from his previous life, Roger would still analyze the specific circumstances.

"Hufflepuff. If possible, I'd like to go there," Hannah answered seriously.

After that little incident just now, Hannah suddenly realized that Roger might be different from what she had previously thought.

...Could some of the legends the tavern patrons told be true? In everyday life, Roger showed none of the extraordinary bearing of a leader of a powerful faction. Hannah had always scorned some of the more outrageous rumors, believing Roger was merely an ordinary bookworm, but now she was somewhat confused.

"I-I haven't decided yet." Neville looked rather nervous.

But Roger could tell that although he claimed he had not decided, he already had an inclination in his heart. He simply did not dare face that choice yet.

Checking grades, getting parents after causing trouble, confessing one's feelings, hesitating over major decisions—these were all only human.

After considering the backgrounds of the two of them and some other information he knew, Roger nodded. He roughly understood the situation.

When the train arrived, the young wizards who had changed into their school uniforms in the train's changing rooms streamed out of the carriages.

Roger and the others had boarded during the day, but by the time they reached Hogwarts, it was completely dark.

Although their uniforms had temperature-regulating magic that kept them warm in winter and cool in summer, the cold night wind against their skin was still uncomfortable.

After getting off the train, the students split into two groups.

Some of the older students headed straight for Hogwarts's main gate.

The first-year students, meanwhile, had other arrangements.

"First-years! First-years, over here! Harry, over here! How are you?"

Above the sea of bustling heads, a tall figure called out with a smile.

A bespectacled little boy approached him.

Though it was their first meeting, Roger recognized him: Dumbledore's trusted confidant, the half-giant Hagrid.

"Come on, follow me. Any more first-years? Watch your step, now! All right, first-years, follow me!"

By tradition, all first-year students who wished to enter Hogwarts had to retrace the route once taken by the school's four founders.

They followed a long, steep, narrow path through the pitch-black forest. At the end of the path, they could see a vast, towering castle built on a hillside, with a bottomless lake spread out before it.

Small boats floated across the lake near the shore. The four founders had crossed the lake by boat before building Hogwarts upon that mountainside.

"No more than four to a boat!" Hagrid shouted, pointing at the row of boats moored by the shore.

They passed through the forest, crossed the lake, climbed through a rocky tunnel, reached a damp stretch of grass, then climbed another flight of stone steps.

The first-years arrived safely and gathered before a huge oak door.

After confirming that everyone had arrived, Hagrid knocked on the door three times.

When the door opened, a familiar face appeared before Roger: a tall witch in emerald-green robes, Professor McGonagall.

After Hagrid handed the students over to her, McGonagall swept her gaze over the group. Her eyes paused on Roger for a second before she looked away and led the new students into Hogwarts, explaining the house assignment as they walked.

"?!" Roger was startled inwardly.

Some of his memories had grown blurry.

But he would never forget such an iconic scene from the movies.

Normally, should this not have been Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter's first encounter, their opening confrontation?

Had fate already shifted? But when he saw the Sorting Hat, Roger instantly suppressed that surprise.

He knew that his own test was about to begin.

The Sorting Hat at Hogwarts could read thoughts and look directly into one's heart. This was something he absolutely had to watch out for. If anything went wrong at this stage, he might end up worse off than if he had fallen into Azkaban! As far as Roger was concerned, it did not matter if information about the future was exposed. After all, everyone knew he was a prophet.

Even if the fact that he had returned from the dead were exposed, it would be fine. It was magic, after all—there were always strange phenomena, and bodily death was not considered complete death among wizards.

But the fact that he was from another world absolutely could not be exposed. Who knew what kind of chaos that would cause! As for how to deal with it, Roger had his own method.

Legilimency? That was indeed one option, but it would be too deliberate, and Roger currently had no way of learning that spell.

Roger's method was simple. The Sorting Hat could not possibly search through every memory. There were plenty of people in the wizarding world with secrets they did not wish to reveal. If the hat were truly that miraculous, someone would have destroyed it long ago.

It should only be able to examine a person's thoughts at that moment, then roughly judge their personality based on disturbances in their magic and thinking.

And that made things much easier...

Once Roger was ready, beneath the gaze of every student and professor in Hogwarts, the Sorting Ceremony began!

They would come forward in order according to their names, from A to Z!