Life in the boys' dormitory

Gerald's smile froze on his face.

You needn't have bothered asking me.

Before he could protest, Professor McGonagall had briskly lifted the battered hat off his head.

"Sorry, lad. I saw qualities in you that reminded me of Gryffindor himself."

After being set on the stool, the Sorting Hat muttered to itself.

"With talent like yours, there's no point unless you cause trouble... no, unless you seek adventure."

Gerald sat on the stool with a complicated expression.

What happened to Hufflepuff? What happened to being closest to the kitchens? What happened to keeping a low profile while I grew stronger?

"What are you sitting there for?"

For once, Professor McGonagall's lips curved into a slight smile.

"Off you go. Your classmates are waiting for you."

"Gerald, over here!"

"I knew you'd end up in Gryffindor!"

"Partner, this was fate!"

The three boys bounced and shouted beside the long table. Fred nearly knocked a goblet onto the floor.

Well, this could work.

It wasn't as if everyone in Gryffindor caused trouble.

Bill and Percy Weasley had both earned top marks in all twelve subjects. Percy might have been annoying, but he'd still become a prefect.

Besides, with an adult's soul, could I really be led astray by a bunch of eleven-year-old lion cubs?

Gerald successfully talked himself around.

With that thought, Gerald put on a smile and strode toward the Gryffindor table.

He was only halfway there when Fred and George rushed over and grabbed an arm each.

"Our partner has officially become our housemate."

"And possibly our roommate."

"But seriously, your sorting took ages. Longer than four or five people combined."

"???"

Gerald was a little puzzled himself. Had it really taken that long?

Had he run into the same situation as Harry Potter? But why had the Sorting Hat listened to Harry's wishes?

We're both protagonists. That's not fair.

Percy seemed to have overheard their conversation and chimed in.

"That's called a hatstall. It's very rare. You're quite special, Green."

Gerald looked away and decided to stop dwelling on these frustrating matters.

The Sorting Ceremony continued, with the last few first-years being assigned one after another.

Once the final child had been sorted into Hufflepuff, Professor McGonagall took away both the Sorting Hat and the stool and returned to the staff table.

Dumbledore stood.

He spread his arms and beamed at the students below.

"Welcome to Hogwarts for a new school year. Before the feast begins, I would like to say a few words."

"And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

Dumbledore sat back down.

Gerald blinked. He had read Dumbledore's classic speech in the books, but experiencing it in person was another matter entirely.

And wasn't that his welcome speech when Harry Potter started school? Does he use the same one every year?

While Gerald was still puzzling over this, the feast began.

The golden plates and goblets filled with food in an instant.

Roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, steak, mashed potatoes, Yorkshire Pudding, mushy peas, carrots, gravy...

Gerald's eyes lit up.

It wasn't because the food was particularly exquisite. In terms of culinary skill, Britain couldn't begin to compare with the food-loving country of his previous life.

The trouble was that he was currently in the chain-form essence refinement stage and needed to consume enormous amounts of energy every day.

In plain terms, he was starving.

Since noon, he had eaten only a few Chocolate Frogs and a single Licorice Wand.

That wasn't even enough to fill the gaps between his teeth.

Gerald picked up his fork and speared a piece of roast beef.

Delicious.

He speared a piece of roast chicken. That was delicious too.

Another sausage.

So delicious.

He didn't eat particularly fast, but the bites never stopped coming.

George, who sat beside him, initially tried to talk to him.

"Who do you think our Charms teacher will be?"

"Mm." Gerald swallowed a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"I heard Professor Flitwick is tiny, but really good."

"Mm." Gerald speared another pork chop.

"Can you say anything besides 'mm'?"

"This steak's good."

George: "..."

"Mate, how many days has it been since you last ate?"

"I'm a growing boy."

"You're already half a head taller than us. How much more are you planning to grow?"

Gerald said nothing and simply kept eating.

By the time Gerald had polished off an entire plate of roast chicken and launched an assault on the pork chops, Fred finally lowered his fork and exchanged a look with George.

"What... is happening here?"

"No idea, but I respect it."

Lee Jordan leaned over to look at Gerald, his face full of awe. "Mate, did you starve to death in your last life?"

But Gerald had no intention of explaining further. His attention was entirely on the food.

To be honest, even in his previous life, he hadn't been particularly fond of the way British food was seasoned.

It was either too bland or too rich, but the Hogwarts house-elves certainly knew their way around a kitchen.

Even his palate, spoiled by Eastern cuisine, couldn't find much fault with it.

Perhaps that was because he was hungry, too.

When you were starving, everything tasted good.

At last, the feast ended.

Dumbledore stood again and announced a few rules.

No entering the Forbidden Forest, no using magic in the corridors, and so on.

Gerald let the words go in one ear and out the other.

The Forbidden Forest?

I want to take a look tomorrow.

After all, there's a good chance of finding higher-grade spirit herbs there.

After singing the school song however they pleased, Gerald followed the prefect, Charlie, back to the Gryffindor Common Room.

Gerald looked around the room.

Honestly, it was warmer than he had imagined.

The fire in the hearth warmed the whole room, and cushions and blankets lay scattered everywhere. It looked a little messy, but comfortably lived-in.

"The boys' dormitories are up the left-hand staircase on the second floor, and the girls' dormitories are on the right. The house-elves have already brought your luggage up."

Charlie pointed at the two spiral staircases on either side of the common room.

"There are spell restrictions on the boys' staircase. Girls can enter the boys' dormitories, but boys can't enter the girls' dormitories. Personally, I'd advise you not to test that spell. A sixth-year tried last year and ended up dangling from the stairs all night. Professor McGonagall didn't let him down until the next morning."

A girl let out a bright laugh, then immediately covered her mouth.

"All right, it's late. Off to bed, everyone. Your first lesson tomorrow morning is Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. Don't be late."

The first-years gave a scattered chorus of replies, then went their separate ways.

Gerald, George, Fred, Lee Jordan, and Kenneth Towler had been assigned to the same dormitory.

Gerald looked at Kenneth, who was half a head shorter than him. He had appeared in the original books too, as one of the "victims" of George's pranks.

Poor kid.

The first night in the dormitory was like the first night in every boys' dormitory in the world, circling endlessly around three fixed topics.

Sports, games, and the opposite sex.

Of course, in the wizarding world, sports naturally became the teachers' dueling abilities.

And games became Quidditch.

"Did you see that blonde Ravenclaw girl? The one called Penelope?"

Lee Jordan lay on his bed with his hands behind his head, his voice turning a little dreamy.

"She's really pretty."

"I think that girl called Morag is pretty interesting," Fred said.

"Who?"

"That girl from Ireland. The one who got sorted into Ravenclaw."

"You've got unusual taste."

"Still more normal than you saying that lady who sells Licorice Wands in Diagon Alley was pretty."

"What do you know about the charms of older women?"

Gerald leaned against the headboard, listening as they all talked over one another, ranking the looks of the girls in their year.

The discussion was as rigorous as an academic seminar. From hair color and eye color to voices and the way they walked, the scoring criteria were extraordinarily detailed.

Something suddenly occurred to him. The first late-night chat in his high school dormitory in his previous life had followed pretty much the same pattern.

From teachers to games, from games to girls in the next class-even the order was identical.

Life in a boys' dormitory. Not even a different world could escape this routine.

"What do you think, Gerald?"

Lee Jordan tilted his head toward Gerald, who had barely said anything.

"I'm not interested in girls. They'll only slow down my wand draw."

"Then don't tell me you're into cute boys?"

"???"