The Fastest Way to Earn Credits

In her excitement, Hermione completely forgot why she had come here. She didn't even notice Daphne's murderous glare as she plopped down right next to Tom, her mouth running like a machine gun: "Riddle, I finished Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts over the summer, plus most of my extracurricular books. What about you? Oh, and I've already learned several simple spells! Which house do you want to be in? I'm going to Gryffindor; I heard it's the best one!"

Tom kept his eyes closed, feeling as though a hundred sparrows were chirping in his ear, giving him a splitting headache.

When she finally paused to catch her breath, he pointed a finger toward the boy near the door who looked on the verge of tears: "Granger, your friend is about to cry, remember? Also, we don't have any toads here, so try looking in another compartment."

Hermione turned around, suddenly remembering that she was supposed to be helping the boy find his toad. She quickly offered him an apologetic smile: "Sorry, Longbottom, I got too excited and forgot about you."

"I-it's okay." Neville Longbottom waved his hands, stuttering, his face turning bright red.

Hermione turned back to glare at Tom, putting on a fierce expression: "Just you wait. We'll be classmates soon, so don't let me leave you too far behind, or I won't feel any sense of accomplishment when I win!" After delivering her ultimatum, she dragged Neville away in a flurry of activity to continue their search for the toad.

As soon as she disappeared, Daphne immediately puffed up with indignation: "Tom, who was that? She's so rude! She didn't even say hello when she walked in, and then she just kept rambling on and on—who does she think she is?"

Watching her pout, Tom couldn't help but smile, noting that Daphne had started calling him "Tom."

"A friend I met during the competition, Hermione Granger. That's just how she is—competitive, but she doesn't mean any harm. You'll see once you get to know her."

"I don't want to get to know her!" Daphne's spoiled-princess temperament flared up, and she curled her lip in disdain. "No wonder she wants to go to Gryffindor. She's exactly like the 'stupid lions' my mother talks about—no manners!"

Tom's mouth twitched, but he didn't argue. He knew perfectly well that in her first year, Hermione wasn't exactly likable; she had managed to clash with almost everyone, from her roommates to Ginny and Luna.

If it weren't for Harry and Ron's easygoing tempers and short memories—forgiving her as soon as an argument ended—Hermione wouldn't have had any real friends at all.

Not wanting Daphne to keep complaining, he casually changed the subject, and the two fell into a desultory conversation.

Not long after, Hermione came back, but this time Daphne had fallen asleep. Tom gestured for her to be quiet, and Hermione could only pout before tiptoeing away.

As the sky gradually darkened and the train began to slow, Tom knew they were nearing their destination and gently woke the sleeping Daphne.

Daphne blinked, her eyes dazed and adorable as she woke up. It took her a moment to realize she was on the train, and she quickly asked, "Tom, are we there?"

"Yes, the train is slowing down," Tom nodded.

"Oh no, I need to put on my robes!" Daphne scrambled to get up, her hand accidentally brushing against the corner of her mouth. She felt a patch of dampness, and her face turned beet red—she had actually drooled! Had Tom seen it? How embarrassing! Would he think she looked ugly while sleeping?

Tom hadn't noticed a thing. He only thought it was strange how the chatty little girl had suddenly become shy and reticent, and he chuckled to himself: girls really are mysterious.

With a long blast of the whistle, the train finally reached its destination.

Tom and Daphne followed the crowd off the train. As soon as they stepped onto the platform, they saw a towering giant waving his thick arms and shouting, his voice loud enough to make their ears ache: "First years over here! Line up! We're taking boats to Hogwarts, no running around!" There was no need to ask; it was clearly Hagrid.

Tom and Daphne found a small boat and sat down, squeezed in with two other unfamiliar first years. He quietly counted heads; there were only eighty or ninety students in this year, fewer than a hundred.

He mused to himself: these are the dark times of Voldemort, and wizards are living in constant fear—who has the heart to have children? Once the situation stabilizes, the number of new students will surely increase, and Hogwarts' capacity of one thousand will likely be reached in just a few years.

As the boats drifted along the water, they passed a cliffside, and Hagrid shouted again: "Keep your heads down! Don't hit your heads!"

Tom glanced at the giant's height, which was nearly brushing the cliff, and thought to himself: you're the only big oaf who needs to duck; it would be a miracle if us little ones hit our heads.

He later heard from a pure-blood student nearby that this waterway was the same one the Four Founders had taken when they built the school, a tradition for every incoming class—only by traveling this path could one truly step through the gates of Hogwarts.

After drifting for about ten minutes, the boats finally reached the dock. The first years followed Hagrid up a long flight of stone steps, eventually stopping before a massive oak door.

Hagrid raised his fist and knocked three times—thud, thud, thud. The door swung open to reveal a witch in emerald-green robes with a stern expression: Professor McGonagall.

The previously noisy group of first years fell instantly silent, not daring to breathe, standing as straight as mice in front of a cat.

Professor McGonagall scanned the group and spoke slowly: "I am Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts and Head of Gryffindor House. The Sorting Ceremony will take place shortly. You will be sorted into Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin. For the next seven years, you will attend classes and live with your housemates."

She paused, her gaze turning sharp: "Your every word and action will affect your house points, and violating school rules will result in point deductions. I'll say this now: even though I am the Head of Gryffindor, if I catch anyone breaking the rules, I will not only refuse to shield you, but I will double your punishment!"

At these words, several students who had been loudly declaring their desire to join Gryffindor immediately wilted and quietly backed down. The children from wizarding families had heard rumors of the mysterious sorting from home, but those from Muggle backgrounds were completely bewildered. The fear of the unknown made many frown, and a few little girls even had tears in their eyes, terrified that no house would want them.

Tom noticed Daphne muttering to herself. He leaned in and listened for a long time before he could make out what she was saying: "Don't be Gryffindor, don't be Gryffindor, Slytherin, Slytherin..."

He couldn't help but smile secretly; this little girl had truly taken her mother's words to heart.

Seeing the children's worried faces, Professor McGonagall's stern mouth softened slightly, a hint of gentleness flashing in her eyes as she offered comfort: "Don't be nervous, everyone. From the moment you received your acceptance letter, you have been students of Hogwarts. The Sorting is simply to help you find the house that suits you best. Just treat this place as your home—how could a home ever abandon you?"