Hogwarts' hidden millionaire

"First years, first years over here!"

A deep voice rang out, interrupting Gerald's thoughts.

Gerald looked toward the voice and saw an enormous man standing at the end of the platform, holding up an oil lamp.

He was probably nearly three meters tall and towered over the crowd.

Rubeus Hagrid.

Gerald recognized him at once.

Hogwarts' Keeper of the Grounds, a half-giant, and one of the people Dumbledore trusted most.

Although Hagrid looked like a rough, hulking brute, he was actually thoughtful, loyal, and dependable. And...

He was also Hogwarts' hidden millionaire.

Using unicorn tail hair to weave blankets-now that was obscenely rich.

Besides, the abundant spiritual energy at Hogwarts made an idea he had entertained for some time feel all the more urgent.

Hogwarts' Forbidden Forest held countless magical creatures and rare plants.

If the spiritual energy here was several times denser than outside, what would the depths of the Forbidden Forest be like?

And who knew the Forbidden Forest better than anyone else at Hogwarts?

Hmm, I need to get on his good side.

Gerald quickly made up his mind.

"Come on, let's go take a look."

Gerald dragged his trunk toward Hagrid.

Fred and George followed him, while Lee Jordan stumbled after them with his trunk.

As Gerald remembered it, when Harry Potter's year arrived, their luggage had been left on the train for the house-elves to carry.

He had no idea why they had to haul it themselves in 1989.

Hagrid was counting the first years, bending down to look at the little kids before him with an expression as good-natured as a big bear's.

"Everyone here? Follow me, then. Watch your step, the path's a bit rough."

Gerald was walking in the middle of the group when he suddenly heard a dull thud behind him.

He looked back to find a dark-haired boy crouching on the ground, frantically gathering things that had fallen out of his trunk.

The trunk had bumped into something, springing its lid open and spilling books and clothes everywhere.

Cedric Diggory.

Gerald had seen him outside the entrance to Platform 9¾.

Now his face was bright red as he hurriedly stuffed his belongings back into his trunk.

Gerald sighed, turned around, and walked back.

He bent down, lifted Cedric's heavy trunk with one hand, scooped up the scattered books with the other, and stuffed them inside in a few quick motions. Then he closed the lid one-handed and fastened the clasps.

In his hand, the trunk seemed as light as papier-mâché.

Cedric's eyes widened.

He's only a little taller than me, but how can he be that strong?

I can barely drag that trunk, and he can lift it with one hand.

"Th-thank you. I'm Cedric Diggory."

"Gerald Green. Be careful, the path's uneven."

"Green? You're really strong." As Cedric took the trunk, his surprise turned to curiosity.

"Thank Merlin, I was born that way."

Gerald smiled and turned to continue walking.

He noticed Hagrid looking their way, a flicker of approval in the large eyes beneath his shaggy hair.

Done.

Kind, simple people like Hagrid were the easiest to win over.

The path grew narrower as they walked, and the trees on either side grew denser, obscuring the starry sky overhead.

Only the oil lamp in Hagrid's hand swayed through the darkness, lighting the path ahead.

"How much farther is it? Why can't we just fly to the castle?" someone in the group muttered.

"It seems to be a tradition. Only first years have to cross the Black Lake by boat to reach the castle."

"Who made that rule? I'd like to give them a piece of-"

George blurted it out, and Gerald hurriedly clapped a hand over his mouth.

"You really don't want to finish that. Apparently, Hogwarts' four Founders made the rule."

"Oh? Never mind, then."

"Not much farther now. You'll see the lake around this bend," Hagrid called from the front.

Sure enough, after a few more minutes, the trees suddenly fell away to either side, and the view opened up.

The Black Lake stretched before them.

Under the night sky, the lake was black as ink, its surface as still as an enormous mirror.

A row of small boats waited along the shore, each large enough to seat about four or five people.

"Four to a boat! Sit tight, and don't stand up!"

Hagrid stood on the shore, directing the first years into the boats.

Gerald boarded the same boat as Fred, George, and Lee Jordan.

Once everyone was seated, the boats glided forward on their own.

There were no oars, no sails, and no visible means of propulsion.

As though drawn by an invisible hand, the boats moved slowly and steadily toward the middle of the lake.

Hagrid rode alone in the lead boat, his mountain-like silhouette looking particularly immense in the lantern's glow.

"I heard there's a giant squid in the lake," a freckle-faced girl whispered from the boat beside them.

Cedric, who was sitting next to her, chimed in.

"And merpeople. My dad told me there's a whole tribe of merpeople living in Hogwarts' Black Lake. But they're nothing like the ones in fairy tales. They look... well, more primitive."

"I think that's pretty cool." George had clearly overheard their conversation.

"It's just a bit cold."

Lee Jordan rubbed his arms.

There was one small mishap along the way: a little girl's trunk fell into the Black Lake.

When Gerald saw it, he drew his wand and cast a Levitation Charm on the trunk.

He slowly guided it back into the boat.

"Thank you."

Gerald said nothing, merely gazing at the castle ahead.

The closer the boats drew, the larger the castle loomed.

Soon, they entered an underground harbor, where a dozen or so torches lit the stone steps.

Hagrid was already standing on the steps.

"Come on up! Watch your feet, the steps are a bit slippery."

The first years filed out of the boats and climbed the stone steps.

At the top stood an enormous wooden door.

A woman in emerald-green robes stood beside it.

It was Professor McGonagall. Gerald recognized her immediately.

"Thank you, Hag-

-rid. I'll take over from here. Go and get ready for the feast."

Hagrid grinned, then turned and headed back down the stone steps.

Professor McGonagall's gaze swept across the first years' faces, lingering on Gerald for a moment.

Gerald smiled at her.

The corners of Professor McGonagall's mouth moved ever so slightly, almost too little to notice.

"Follow me, everyone. Leave your luggage where it is."

The first years filed after her.

Professor McGonagall led them through the Entrance Hall and along a broad stone corridor, finally stopping before a massive oak door.

A buzz of conversation came from behind it, the clamor of hundreds of people talking at once filtering through the thick wood.

"Welcome to Hogwarts."

Professor McGonagall turned to face the first years.

"The start-of-term feast is about to begin, but before you take your seats, you must undergo the sorting ceremony. You will be sorted into Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin. Your house will be your home at Hogwarts. Your achievements will bring it honor, and your failings will bring it shame."

Standing among the students, Gerald felt momentarily dazed when Professor McGonagall said their house would be their home at Hogwarts.

It was like hearing his homeroom teacher in his previous life say, "School is your home."

Then, after he got into trouble, the same teacher would say, "You really think this school is your home, don't you?" It gave him a sense of déjà vu.

"The sorting ceremony will begin shortly. Please wait here for a moment."

With that, Professor McGonagall turned, pushed open the enormous oak door, and went inside.

The moment the door opened, a roar of voices poured out.

Professor McGonagall soon disappeared through the doorway.

The first years began whispering among themselves outside.

"How do you think they sort us?"

"I think we have to pass some kind of test."

"It's not that simple. My brother told me you have to fight a troll."

George waggled his eyebrows mysteriously.

"And some people have to pull out a dragon's tooth."

"What?"

One little girl was so frightened that she dropped the mouse in her hand.

Fred and George were clearly embellishing and spreading all sorts of ridiculous rumors, leaving several first years white-faced.

As Gerald listened to the chatter, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

He knew what would happen next.

It's just listening to a hat sing. What's there to look forward to?

But which house will I be sorted into?