Idiot! Crybaby! Scum! Twist!

The Sorting Hat's booming "Gryffindor!" was like an invisible switch, instantly igniting the excitement in one corner of the Great Hall.

Before Lin Yuan could properly savor the ancient spiritual imprints of the four Founders lingering in that greasy old hat, he was swept away by a deafening storm of applause and cheers.

He calmly made his way toward the long red-and-gold table. Countless eyes followed him along the way.

Some were curious, some scrutinizing, and some came from the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy was openly scowling at him as if someone had snatched away his favorite toy. His pale gray eyes glared at Lin Yuan, full of resentment.

Lin Yuan didn't care in the slightest. If anything, he found it a little amusing.

Children's joys and sorrows were always so pure and direct.

"I knew it! I knew it!" Ron cried, his face flushed with excitement. He slapped the empty seat beside Lin Yuan. "Sit down, Lane! You were brilliant! The hat was on your head for nearly three minutes, wasn't it? We thought you were going to be one of those difficult Sorting cases!"

"Welcome to the best house in all of Hogwarts!" Harry was genuinely happy for him, and there was a new sense of closeness in the way he looked at Lin Yuan, as if they were "two of a kind."

Lin Yuan smiled and sat down. As soon as he took his seat, someone leaned toward him: Hermione Granger, with her mass of bushy brown hair.

"Lane, what did the Sorting Hat say to you just now?" she asked in a low voice, though her eyes glittered with an irrepressible thirst for knowledge. "Did it mention Ravenclaw? You seem like you'd fit right in there. Oh, I'm not saying Gryffindor is bad—Gryffindor is wonderful, of course. I just mean...from an academic perspective, your choice was a little unexpected."

She rattled off the whole thing in one breath, as fast as if she were reciting a spell.

Before Lin Yuan could answer, one of the red-haired twins across from them winked and mimicked the Sorting Hat's rasping voice. "Oh, a mysterious lad from the East. Send him off to sit with those bookworms who never look up from their reading? No, no, no, what a waste! He belongs with us. We're in dire need of a chief technical officer to help us develop new prank inventions!"

"Exactly, George," the other twin chimed in. "I bet his brain's full of things a hundred times more interesting than the Standard Book of Spells, Grade One. Hey, Lane, I'm Fred, and this is George. Or am I George and he's Fred? Who cares? You'll have plenty of time to get a headache over it."

Their back-and-forth made the Gryffindors around them burst into laughter.

Lin Yuan merely smiled. He picked up the empty plate in front of him and said calmly, "It said Gryffindor has the best Pumpkin Pasties in all of Hogwarts."

The answer clearly took everyone by surprise. Even Hermione was stunned.

Just then, Albus Dumbledore rose from the High Table. His silver-white beard shimmered in the candlelight, and his blue eyes, twinkling behind half-moon spectacles, swept over the hall.

"Welcome!" he said cheerfully. "Welcome to our new students, and welcome back to our old friends! Welcome to Hogwarts!"

"First-years, please note that the Forbidden Forest—that dark forest just beside us—is out of bounds to all students. Some of the older students would do well to remember that, too." As he spoke, he cast a pointed glance at the Weasley Twins, who were enthusiastically discussing their "Potato Bonsai" at the Gryffindor table.

"Also, our caretaker, Mr. Filch, asked me to remind you," he continued, "that the corridor on the right-hand side of the fourth floor is off-limits this year. Anyone who doesn't want to die in a very unpleasant way should stay away."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione immediately exchanged a tense, curious look.

The fourth floor? What could be hidden there that made Dumbledore warn them so gravely?

"Right, now it's time for the School Song!" Dumbledore suddenly brightened again. He drew his wand and gave it a light wave. A long golden ribbon flew from its tip and twisted in the air, forming words.

"Everyone, sing to your favorite tune!"

The entire Great Hall was instantly swallowed by a disastrous "chorus"—a chaotic, howling cacophony of a thousand off-key melodies. The Weasley Twins sang solemnly in a slow, funeral-march rhythm. Peeves somersaulted through the air, rapping in a shrill, rapid-fire style.

Lin Yuan didn't sing.

He simply listened in silence. To his extraordinary senses, this "chorus" wasn't meaningless nonsense.

He could feel that when thousands of wizards used their own will to drive the same "text"—the lyrics of the School Song—their chaotic mental energy, amplified by Hogwarts, this enormous "amplifier," formed a strange, invisible resonance, imbued with a sense of "belonging" and "identification."

The resonance was faint, but it was subtly strengthening the spiritual bond between every student and the collective that was Hogwarts.

So that's how it works. This seemingly nonsensical bit of fun serves to renew and affirm the collective "spiritual contract" between all the staff and students once a year. It's a little like the "Prayer" rituals of the cultivation world, only much more freewheeling. This white-bearded old man really isn't as simple as he seems.

When the Weasley Twins had sung the final note in a stirring, theatrical tone, Dumbledore dabbed at his laughing tears with a napkin and announced loudly, "Music! A magic beyond all the magic we do here! And now, before we begin our feast, I have a few words to say. They are: Idiot! Crybaby! Scum! Twist! Thank you!"

He sat down.

The entire hall erupted in thunderous applause and cheers.

Harry and Ron were laughing so hard they could barely sit upright. Hermione frowned, apparently analyzing the grammatical structure and deeper meaning of the words.

But the moment Dumbledore spoke them, Lin Yuan keenly caught a trace of unusual magical energy.

That wasn't mere nonsense. His spiritual senses clearly detected that those seemingly meaningless words had resonated in a strange way with the magic in the entire hall as they were spoken, like a string of keys gently activating some kind of mechanism.

The next second, a miracle happened.

Between the golden plates and silver cutlery that had been lying empty on the four long tables, mountains of food appeared out of nowhere.

Roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, steak, boiled potatoes, baked potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy...and the Pumpkin Pasties he'd just mentioned offhand, giving off an irresistible sweet aroma.

"Wow!" Ron's eyes went round. Without a word, he grabbed the nearest chicken leg and stuffed it into his mouth. "I love magic!" he mumbled.

Harry stared at the feast in amazement. He had never seen anything so lavish.

Hermione tried to explain it with theory. "This is an extremely advanced Conjuration Charm, and it's being cast on a group, with a specific target...goodness, how powerful would the magic have to be to sustain a spell on this scale...?"

Lin Yuan didn't touch the food.

He studied it with a researcher's eye.

Through his spiritual senses, he could tell that the food hadn't been "created" from nothing, like something printed by a 3D printer.

It was more like...it had been "transported" from one place to another.

Spatial transfer? Or some sort of targeted delivery system based on House-elf magic? He picked up a baked potato and carefully examined the lingering traces of magic. There's a very faint trace of magic here that doesn't belong to human wizards. The kitchens must be directly beneath the Great Hall, sending the prepared food straight to the tables through some kind of magical passage. Efficient, energy-saving, and full of ceremony. A clever design.

He filed away his observations, then finally began to enjoy dinner at a leisurely pace.

The feast was warm and lively.

The students talked loudly, sharing amusing stories from their summer holidays.

The ghosts drifted out of the walls, weaving between the tables and greeting the students with their translucent bodies.

Nearly Headless Nick, Gryffindor's resident ghost, floated over to their table to warmly welcome the first-years.

"I hope you'll help Gryffindor win the House Cup!" he said in a somewhat mournful tone, trying to straighten his head. Instead, it wobbled and sagged toward his other shoulder. "We haven't beaten Slytherin in several years."

"With Harry here this year, we'll definitely do it!" called a senior student.

"And Lane!" Fred or George added. "He looks like he'll be great at earning points!"

After dessert—including ice cream in every flavor, apple pie, chocolate sponge cake, and jam doughnuts—had also been swept away, Dumbledore stood up again.

"Now that everyone's eaten their fill, I have a few more things to announce before you head back to your dormitories for the night."

"First, first-years: the Forbidden Forest on the grounds is open to all students...oh, no, it's out of bounds. Some of the older students would do well to remember that, too." As Dumbledore spoke, he cast a meaningful glance toward the Weasley Twins.

"Also, our caretaker, Mr. Filch, asked me to remind you that the corridor on the right-hand side of the fourth floor is off-limits to everyone this school year. If you don't want to die in a very unpleasant way, stay well away from it."

His tone was as casual as if he were saying, "The weather's nice today," but the warning made the first-years draw in a sharp breath.

Harry and Ron exchanged a look, both alarmed and excited.

Lin Yuan quietly sent a tendril of his spiritual sense in that direction.

He sensed an unusual fluctuation of magical energy at the end of the fourth-floor corridor on the right.

It was a mass of energy, deliberately sealed away, mingling with protection, confinement, and some kind of...primal life force.