As the large doors swung open, Professor McGonagall stepped out, briefly thanking Hagrid before scanning the crowd of students.
Luckily, her target stood out and was proactive in making himself known.
The moment Luke saw Professor McGonagall, he smiled and nodded in her direction as a greeting. McGonagall, upon seeing that Luke had arrived safe and sound, seemed to relax slightly, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
Without further ado, she led the group of students along a stone-paved path toward a small room.
As they walked, faint murmurs from the Great Hall could be heard through the wall, making many students' nerves tighten once again.
However, Hermione was now more curious than nervous this time.
"Do you know that professor?" she asked Luke.
She had noticed that a few of the wizard-born students were eyeing the tall, black-haired witch ahead of them with a mix of awe and respect. Clearly, they had either heard of her from their parents or older siblings, and their descriptions hadn't exactly painted her as gentle or easygoing.
"Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, Head of Gryffindor House, Transfiguration professor, Quidditch fan, and a lover of cats," Luke replied.
"Strict but fair. Trust me, you two should get along just fine."
Luke had a feeling that McGonagall, in her younger years, might have been a lot like Hermione—smart, sharp, and full of both courage and passion.
Hermione nodded seriously, glancing again at Professor McGonagall's back with newfound respect.
A few moments later, they reached a small, cramped room. The students were packed tightly together, shoulder to shoulder.
Luke, who had been lost in thought, suddenly realized that Hermione was still holding onto his sleeve.
He made a big show of stretching, subtly freeing his sleeve from her grasp.
Hermione glanced at him but said nothing.
Professor McGonagall, however, noticed Luke standing casually at the front of the group. While the other students appeared tense and formal, Luke seemed like he was about to doze off from how relaxed he looked.
She shot him a sharp look, clearly unimpressed by his lack of decorum.
Luke gave an apologetic smile and quickly straightened up.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall began, her voice commanding the room's attention. "The start-of-term banquet is about to begin…"
She explained the upcoming Sorting Ceremony, and the students all perked up, listening intently. No one wanted to miss any details and risk embarrassing themselves during the ceremony or being placed in a house they didn't want.
"In just a few minutes, you will be sorted in front of the entire school. I suggest you take this time to straighten yourselves up and look presentable."
Her sharp gaze moved from Neville's disheveled cloak to the smudge on Ron's nose. Harry, trying to tame his messy hair, anxiously ran his fingers through it. Eventually, her eyes landed on Luke.
Luke, having purposely dressed with a bit of a casual flair, was the opposite of formal. His cloak had slipped down slightly, and his collar was a little askew.
Without hesitation, Professor McGonagall stepped forward, untied his cloak, and re-fastened it properly.
She even adjusted his collar before giving him one last pointed look.
Luke, feeling a bit constrained by the suddenly formal arrangement of his attire, couldn't help but feel slightly out of place in his now impeccable outfit.
With one last glance around the room, McGonagall turned and left.
Walking behind Luke and Hermione, Ron was completely taken aback by what he'd just witnessed. If he didn't know better, he might've suspected that Professor McGonagall was actually Luke's close relative.
Based on what he'd heard from his brothers, McGonagall was a great teacher who cared about her students but rarely showed such special attention to any one of them—unless they were exceptionally good at Quidditch, of course.
At least, that's what Fred had told him, though Ron wasn't sure how accurate that was.
Since Ron was fairly certain there were no family ties between Luke and McGonagall, Hermione, who didn't know the full story, had already begun to grow suspicious.
"Don't overthink it," Luke said with a chuckle, noticing the strange looks from Ron, Hermione, and even Harry.
"Professor McGonagall was my guide when I got my Hogwarts letter. We got along well, so she looks out for me a bit."
At that moment, Booker, poked its head out of his arms and let out a confirming "meow," as if to vouch for Luke's words.
Hearing the meow, something in Ron's pocket squirmed in response, as though startled by the noise.
Hermione didn't ask any more questions. Now that the Sorting Ceremony was just around the corner, she, too, was beginning to feel the nerves set in and focused on steadying her breath.
Harry, on the other hand, wasn't as surprised. He'd already witnessed Luke and McGonagall getting along well during their first meeting, and the dynamic felt more like an older mentor looking after a younger pupil.
Plus, Hagrid had also shown Harry a lot of kindness since he'd arrived, so he just assumed Hogwarts teachers were generally warm-hearted. Although he was a little nervous, it wasn't overwhelming.
Luke could sense Harry's faint anticipation and hope, which made him inwardly wince.
Poor Harry had no idea that two of his future teachers would treat him terribly.
One would have a love-hate relationship with him—although if Harry were to turn into "Harriet," that might change things—and the other would outright want to kill him.
It really made Luke think that being the "Chosen One" was a dangerously high-stakes role.
While lost in thought, Luke overheard Ron and the others chatting nervously about the Sorting Ceremony. Harry's anxiety visibly spiked when the words "test" and "exam" were mentioned, clearly unsure about his magical abilities.
Hermione, on the other hand, had already received some information from Luke earlier, so she remained calm.
Suddenly, a group of ghosts floated into the room, causing a stir among the first-years. The ghosts flitted around, chattering and making a spectacle until McGonagall returned. The ghosts, almost as if embarrassed by being caught peeking, floated away one by one.
"Now, form a line and follow me," McGonagall instructed, leading the anxious group of first-years toward the magnificent Great Hall.
As they entered, nearly all of the students gasped in unison.
The sight was breathtaking. Thousands of floating candles illuminated the vast hall, casting a warm glow over the four long tables that stretched across the room. Each table was laden with golden plates and goblets, ready for the feast. At the head of the room sat the staff, Hogwarts professors and faculty members, observing the newcomers.
Luke's eyes were immediately drawn to an elderly man with a long, silver beard, half-moon spectacles perched on his nose, and twinkling blue eyes full of wisdom.
It was Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts and one of the most powerful wizards alive.
Just then, Dumbledore seemed to feel Luke's gaze, and their eyes met.