Most of the first-years had little time to admire the grandeur of Hogwarts Castle through the downpour. Sheets of rain hammered down on them, soaking their robes and making them shiver.
"Why do first-years have to cross the Black Lake in boats?" Albert glanced at his three shivering companions.
"I don't know, and I don't want to know," Fred Weasley muttered through chattering teeth.
"Yeah, same," George added, rubbing his arms for warmth. "It's freezing out here. Who cares about the tradition when you can't feel your fingers?"
Albert shook his head, suppressing a smile. He had read about the tradition before—how the boat journey mirrored the arrival of Hogwarts' four founders at the castle centuries ago. The groups of four symbolized Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. It was meant to be a ceremonial rite of passage, connecting new students to the school's rich history.
But how many people actually knew that now?
Certainly not Hagrid, who was too busy ensuring none of them capsized.
And certainly not the wet, miserable first-years, who only cared about getting indoors.
"Mind your heads!" Hagrid's booming voice cut through the storm as they neared the rocky overhang.
The first-years instinctively ducked.
The small boats glided smoothly beneath the looming cliffside, drawing closer to the dock at the base of the castle.
A particularly strong gust of wind sent a spray of water over them.
"Ugh, this is awful," George grumbled, pulling his soaked robes tighter around himself. He sneezed. "I hate the rain."
Everyone was drenched, their teeth chattering violently.
"How are you dry?" Lee Jordan turned to Albert, eyes wide with surprise. Albert's robes and peaked cap were untouched by the rain.
"Simple magic," Albert answered with a shrug. He had cast an Impervius Charm before stepping onto the boat.
"Show-off," Fred muttered, but he eyed Albert's dry robes with obvious jealousy.
"Alright, everyone follow me," Hagrid called, holding his lantern high as he led them up a steep, pebble-strewn path.
As they reached the top, a massive oak door came into view. Before it stood a tall, stern-looking witch in emerald robes.
Albert recognized her instantly—Professor Minerva McGonagall.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I'll take it from here."
McGonagall's sharp eyes swept over the group, taking in their bedraggled state. Her mouth twitched ever so slightly.
It wasn't surprising. The first-years looked far worse than usual, completely drenched and splattered with mud from the wet ground.
"First-years, follow me."
McGonagall turned on her heel and led them through the grand entrance hall, her boots clicking against the stone floor.
Albert took in his surroundings with fascination. The thousand-year-old castle loomed over them, its vast stone walls lined with flaming torches that cast flickering shadows across the corridors.
"That's Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House," George whispered. "Percy says she's really strict."
Albert barely heard him. His attention was fixed on the enchanted torches lining the walls.
"I met her once," Albert murmured absently. "My sister was fascinated when she transfigured a teacup into a mouse."
He stared at the torches, curiosity sparking in his mind. The flames burned steadily, yet there was no smoke.
Was this Everlasting Fire? He had read about magical flames that could burn indefinitely without fuel—perhaps it was Fiendfyre controlled by enchantments?
"Oi, what are you looking at?" Fred nudged him.
Albert blinked, then shrugged. "Just wondering what kind of magic fuels these flames. They don't behave like normal fire."
Fred opened his mouth, then thought better of it. He had no idea how to respond to that.
Albert made a mental note to research it later. Hogwarts was full of mysteries—this was just one of many he intended to uncover.
At that moment, something in his mind clicked. A new quest appeared in his magical system:
Millennium School: Hogwarts.
"Hogwarts is an ancient and mysterious magical institution. For centuries, countless secrets have been hidden within its walls. As a curious explorer, you must not let this opportunity slip away. Before graduation, uncover the hidden mysteries of Hogwarts."
Current progress: 1%.
Reward: 1,000–100,000 experience points, 1–10 skill points.
Albert's heart skipped a beat.
"Blimey…" he thought, barely stopping himself from exclaiming aloud.
This was by far the most ambitious quest he had ever received.
Was the system forcing him to become a night wanderer?
Well, if that was the case, he would need to master the Disillusionment Charm sooner rather than later.
McGonagall stopped in front of a grand set of doors and turned to address them.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she announced in her crisp, no-nonsense tone. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but first, you will be sorted into your Houses."
Albert listened, already familiar with the process.
Every year, first-years panicked over the Sorting Ceremony, their imaginations running wild with theories about grueling tests or impossible trials. In reality, it was simply a hat that read their minds and assigned them accordingly.
Still, McGonagall's speech was thorough, covering the four Houses, the House Cup, and the importance of earning points through good behavior.
After finishing her explanation, she gave the wet students an appraising look.
"Before we proceed, we must ensure you are presentable. You will not enter the Great Hall looking like this."
With practiced efficiency, McGonagall flicked her wand. A rush of warm air spread through the crowd as their clothes dried and the mud vanished from their robes.
The first-years collectively sighed in relief.
Albert, already dry, stepped back to avoid the crowd pressing forward for their turn.
"Is this what it's like to be sardines?" he muttered, watching them jostle for space.
McGonagall worked quickly, her Scouring and Drying Charms restoring the first-years to an acceptable state within minutes. When she reached Albert, her eyebrows raised slightly in surprise at his already-dry robes.
Nevertheless, she cast the spell anyway. His clothes warmed slightly, and any lingering dampness vanished.
"Now," McGonagall announced, "please remain quiet. I will return shortly when everything is ready."
As she exited the chamber, nervous whispers broke out among the first-years.
"How do they sort us?"
"What if we get put in the wrong House?"
"Maybe there's a test?"
Albert smirked, watching their anxiety grow.
He suddenly understood why older students refused to explain the Sorting Hat.
It was much more entertaining to let the first-years work themselves into a frenzy.
"You don't seem worried at all." A girl with dark hair approached him. "I'm Alicia Spinnet."
Albert recognized her name. She would later play Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
"You don't seem nervous," Alicia noted. "Do you know how we get sorted?"
Albert smiled slightly.
"As long as I don't end up in Slytherin, I'll be fine," he said evasively.
He had no intention of spoiling the surprise.
Watching the other first-years panic was far too amusing.