A group of first-year wizards, led by the older students, disembarked from the train and hurried toward the brightly lit main building. Jack watched the smiles on the faces of these kids, their excited chatter about which house they'd be sorted into, with a look of disdain on his face.
He despised noise and children because they were too difficult to control.
"Hey, Ludwig, you look rather uncomfortable," Crabbe looked at Jack with some concern.
But Jack obviously didn't care about someone else's worry; really, he just needed a quiet place to rest for a while.
"First years, this way!" A tall man called out from a distance, and Jack recognized him immediately; this man had appeared with the savior before, bearing the scent of a giant.
How wonderful it would be to use a giant's body for undead crafting, Jack never let go of this delightful thought. Maybe he should ask his parents whether it would be illegal to kill a Hogwarts professor?
Hopefully, this place wasn't as unkind as the Church!
Draco, seeing the unfriendly glance Jack tossed Hagrid's way, felt a sense of camaraderie and cheerfully came to stand beside Jack.
"Jack, that's Hagrid—how could Dumbledore let such a repulsive creature be a professor!"
Jack nodded noncommittally, the idea of a giant's descendant as a professor interesting him and raising his curiosity towards the legendary headmaster.
They rode boats across the Black Lake to reach the castle gates.
It was smooth sailing, if one ignored the Gryffindors.
A tall witch in green robes, with black hair and a dignified posture, opened the castle's gates after three firm knocks. She welcomed the new students and then led them to an empty chamber.
Throughout, Jack observed his surroundings, taking note of the talking portraits, a novelty to him.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the sorting ceremony is about to begin…"
Indeed, Professor McGonagall was telling the young whippersnappers that every house was equally exceptional.
Jack didn't believe it having even read the school history; apparently Hufflepuff seemed to be a perpetual underdog.
As for whether those sorted there were all dullards, he didn't know.
"Alright, children, get ready here; the Sorting will begin shortly."
Perhaps because of McGonagall's departure, the ghosts which were initially hiding came out in droves, then stopped when they saw a pair of unfathomable eyes.
"Oh my, I can hardly believe I find a first-year frightening! And I'm Peeves!" a portly ghost shrieked, echoing the thoughts of the majority.
Thus, the ghosts planning to scare the new students vanished completely.
Everyone whispered among themselves, many seeing ghosts for the first time, quite excited.
Children from wizarding families like Draco pondered Peeves' words. They were afraid of a first-year?
Peeves was known only to fear Dumbledore.
No one suspected the recently considered dud Jack.
In fact, aside from Pansy and his fellow Slytherins, who were already impressed by Jack, most expected him to be sorted into Hufflepuff.
Jack stroked his chin curiously; he hadn't seen a being of death in so long, not even a skeleton.
Seeing ghosts had thrilled him, though their fear of him was interesting.
Could there have been a problem with the materials or methodology used during their creation?
As a necromancer who valued experimentation, Jack would have relished the chance to grab a ghost for study.
Of course, he still needed a corpse. Wasn't the process of creating ghosts about extracting the soul and then contaminating it?
The very thought was amusing.
"Children, come with me," Professor McGonagall reentered and led the new students out.
This year, Peeves didn't play tricks, but McGonagall paid it no mind.
All arrived at the Great Hall, with floating candles, opulent tableware, and a ceiling like the night sky.
"Space magic? Quite clever," Jack murmured with interest, purposely keeping his voice down to prevent Draco—who was always following him—from hearing.
McGonagall then placed a stool and an old hat in front of them.
Jack suspected the hat hadn't been washed for centuries.
"That's the Sorting Hat," said a girl next to Harry Potter, not pretty—likely the Muggle-born Draco had mentioned.
Jack wouldn't bring himself to use the vulgar term 'Mudblood.'
"Children, as I call your names, put on the hat, and don't worry, it won't kill you," McGonagall's attempt at reassurance did little to ease the tension.
At that moment, the dirty Sorting Hat broke out in song:
You might think I'm not pretty, But don't judge on what you see, I'll eat myself if you can find, A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black, Your top hats sleek and tall, For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head The Sorting Hat can't see, So try me on and I will tell you Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor, Where dwell the brave at heart, Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart.
You might belong in Hufflepuff, Where they are just and loyal, Those patient Hufflepuffs are true And unafraid of toil.
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, If you've a ready mind, Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind.
Or perhaps in Slytherin You'll make your real friends, Those cunning folk use any means To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid! And don't get in a flap! You're in safe hands (though I have none) For I'm a Thinking Cap!
"Awful," Jack frowned. Though he knew nothing of music, he still had functioning ears.
"Indeed, it's horrendous. But the lyrics aren't too bad," Draco couldn't help but comment.
Jack pondered whether Draco appreciated the concept of true friendship or the willingness to use any means to achieve an end. Probably the latter.
"Jack Ludwig!"
Surprisingly, his name was called first.