Gryffindor Common Room

"Surely he wasn't serious?" Harry, finding himself rather out of place, whispered to Percy.

"Impossible," Percy said, frowning at Dumbledore. "What's strange is that whenever there's somewhere we aren't allowed to go, he usually explains why. For instance, everyone knows there are many dangerous beasts in the forest. I think he should at least explain it clearly to our prefects."

"Now, before everyone goes to bed, let us all sing the school song together!" Dumbledore announced loudly. Harry noticed that the smiles of the other teachers seemed to have frozen, Hagrid included.

With a light flick of Dumbledore's wand, a long golden ribbon floated out of it, twisting and coiling like a snake above the high tables to form lines of words.

"Everyone choose your favorite tune," Dumbledore said. "Ready, sing!"

So all the teachers and students sang at the top of their lungs: "Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hogwarts, please teach us knowledge, whether we are bald old men or children with scraped knees, our minds can take in some interesting things."

"For our minds are empty now, filled with air, dead flies, and trivial nonsense. Teach us something worthwhile, give back what we have forgotten. Just do your best, and leave the rest to us. We shall study hard until we turn to dust."

Everyone finished the school song in a scattered, ragged chorus.

The Weasley Twins seated on either side of Tierra continued singing to the slow melody of the "Funeral March." Dumbledore conducted their final few bars with his wand, and when they finished, his applause was the loudest.

"Music!" he said. "More enchanting than anything else we do here! Now it is time for bed. Off to your dormitories, everyone."

Tierra followed Percy and the other first-year Gryffindor wizards out of the Great Hall and up the ever-moving marble staircases.

"I'm definitely going to get lost," Tierra said.

This place was far larger than it had been in the films. The complicated, crisscrossing movements of the staircases made the castle seem like a shifting maze.

"Yeah, there are too many stairs here, and they keep moving," Harry agreed behind him, yawning as he spoke.

He was too sleepy, and too full—the exhaustion of making new friends, the exhaustion of the Sorting.

Percy led them through corridors lined with whispering portraits, past layer upon layer of tapestries, and into a deep, shadowy passageway.

Ahead in the corridor, a bundle of walking sticks floated in midair. Percy was only one step ahead of those behind him, so everyone behind him promptly stumbled into one another.

"That's Peeves," Percy told the first-years with some disgust. "A ghost who specializes in pranks."

Then he raised his voice. "Peeves, show yourself."

The answer was a loud, piercing series of popping sounds, like a balloon deflating.

"Do you want me to go fetch Bloody Baron?"

With a pop, a plump little dwarf suddenly appeared, round as a ball, with a pair of wicked black eyes and a huge mouth. He floated cross-legged in the air, clutching the bundle of walking sticks tightly in both hands.

"Heh heh heh!" he cackled wickedly. "So it's a bunch of nasty little first-years! How amusing!"

He suddenly swooped toward Tierra and the others, startling the little wizards in the front rows.

"Go away, Peeves, or I'll tell Bloody Baron. This is no joke!" Percy roared.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished. The walking sticks landed right on Neville's head, and then they heard Peeves soar away, armor clanking as he flew past.

"You should be on guard against Peeves," Percy said, leading them onward. "Only Bloody Baron and Headmaster Dumbledore can keep him in line. He doesn't even listen to us prefects... We're here."

At the end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very plump woman dressed in a layered pink court gown.

"Password?" she asked.

"Dragon Dregs," Percy answered.

The portrait swung forward, revealing a round hole in the wall. Once they had all climbed through it, they found themselves in the Gryffindor Common Room.

It was a comfortable round room, with soft armchairs arranged in a fan around an unlit fireplace.

Percy directed the Little Witches through one door toward their dormitory, then led the boys through another.

They went up a spiral staircase, and were evidently inside a tower.

A minute later, Tierra and Harry finally found their beds: five four-poster beds hung with deep crimson flannel curtains.

The five luxurious beds formed a circle around the central fireplace.

Besides Tierra, Harry, and Ron, the Gryffindor Swordsman—Neville Longbottom—and the explosive genius—Seamus Finnigan—were also in this dormitory.

Their trunks and pets had already been brought up, including the crates of books Tierra had sent ahead. They all lay quietly beside his bed.

The five little wizards, Tierra included, were utterly exhausted and had no desire to say another word. One by one, they changed into pajamas and collapsed into bed.

Well... only Tierra took out toothpaste and a toothbrush from his bag, went to the dormitory bathroom to brush his teeth, and wiped his face with a towel while he was at it.

No matter how tired I am, I still have to stay clean.

There's definitely no way I can take a bath today.

Tierra thought regretfully. Though he had taught himself the Cleaning Charm long ago, he still enjoyed the pleasure of soaking in a bath.

But today, he had not even used the Cleaning Charm.

Because he was truly too exhausted today, and not merely from several hours of train travel.

In addition to the effort he had spent resisting the Sorting Hat's Peering, Tierra had also devoted part of his magic to maintaining the existence of those Curse Worms. Otherwise, once his magic ran out and he could no longer sustain them, they would immediately seek out the nearest living being to parasitize.

Although Tierra had studied magic for more than five years since the age of six, and had read everything readable in Merlin's Notes, in terms of profound magical knowledge alone, he dared say he was no worse than any little wizard in this school.

But limited by his lack of foundational knowledge and the constraints of his magic, his use of magic remained at a novice level.

For that very reason, the Merlin Pill he had placed on Peter Pettigrew was gradually losing its effect.

This pill was essentially a curse. Though Merlin had improved it so that it could control magical creatures, the strength of that control depended on one's own magic.

For Tierra's current level of magic, being able to maintain control from the train's departure until now was already impressive. If it had been Ron or Neville, the Merlin Pill might only have lasted an hour.

Mm, I'd better use this pill less often, Tierra thought.

I wonder if using it too much could cause drug resistance.

Once Tierra had brushed his teeth, he fell onto his bed and went to sleep, without even saying good night to Harry.

Aside from potions, a wizard's magic could only be restored through rest—that was, sleep.

Harry soon fell asleep as well. Before long, the only sound left in the dormitory was steady breathing.