As usual, Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on the stool before the new students.
Under the nervous gazes of the first-years, the hat began to sing a brand-new song.
Apparently, it spent the entire year composing.
Unfortunately—
The Founders had clearly forgotten to give it any artistic talent.
The performance was so painful that everyone just wanted it to end so the sorting could begin.
This year's batch of students was rather unremarkable. There was no standout figure like last year's Harry Potter.
That was—
Until McGonagall called:
"Luna Lovegood."
The girl skipped happily to the stool.
But instead of putting the hat on—
She picked it up and began examining it curiously.
Then—
She pulled out a needle.
And tried to fix it.
"Oh, Merlin's beard—someone save me!"
The Sorting Hat shrieked in horror.
The scene made Lewis burst out laughing.
Only when McGonagall sharply intervened did the chaos end.
The moment the hat touched Luna's head, it shouted eagerly:
"RAVENCLAW!"
The Ravenclaws clapped—
Though not very enthusiastically.
Even among the eccentric Eagles, Luna was… a bit much.
Only when Lewis took the lead did the applause grow louder.
The next highlight was Ginny.
The Gryffindor table erupted in cheers as another Weasley joined their ranks.
But Ginny herself didn't look happy.
She was still worried about Harry—
And Ron.
At the staff table, Snape's seat remained empty.
Clearly, he had gone to intercept the missing duo.
In Hogwarts, if there was one person most likely to notice something wrong with Harry—
It was Snape.
Even more so than Dumbledore or McGonagall.
Because Harry was the son of the man Snape hated most—
And the woman he loved most.
Though Snape constantly mocked and belittled Harry—
He was also the one who paid the closest attention to him.
And the one who most wanted him alive.
Part hatred.
Part protection.
Part disguise as a double agent.
As the Sorting concluded, the feast finally began.
At that moment, Snape swept into the hall like a bat and spoke quietly with Dumbledore and McGonagall.
Soon, Dumbledore frowned and stood, leading the two professors out.
Lewis exchanged a glance with Hermione at the Gryffindor table.
He gave her an "OK" gesture.
She relaxed immediately.
Harry and Ron had made it.
At least—
She only needed to worry about house points now.
As it turned out—
Even that worry was unnecessary.
Since the incident happened before term officially began, Gryffindor lost no points.
The next morning at breakfast, Hermione came over to complain.
"They're celebrating like heroes," she said angrily. "If they get expelled at this rate, I wouldn't even be surprised!"
"Alright, calm down."
Lewis casually stuffed a spoonful of strawberry pudding into her mouth.
Hermione shot him a glare—
But ate it anyway.
Completely ignoring the shocked looks from nearby students.
After an entire summer living together, such gestures had become natural.
Once she calmed down a bit, Lewis said, "That's Gryffindor for you. They don't always think things through before acting."
"That's exactly the problem! They should reflect on their behavior!"
For a moment, Lewis thought—
She looked exactly like McGonagall.
No wonder people secretly called her "Little McGonagall."
Just as Hermione was still fuming—
Her "justice" arrived.
A deafening roar exploded from the Gryffindor table.
A Howler.
"…STEALING THE CAR! If you get expelled, I won't be surprised! Just wait until I get my hands on you—!"
"…Your father nearly died of shame when he heard! You could have been killed—!"
"…He's under investigation now! This is YOUR FAULT! One more stunt like this and we're bringing you home immediately!"
The Howler ended.
But its impact lasted the entire week.
Morning classes were easy—
Especially for Lewis.
In Transfiguration, he turned a beetle into a button flawlessly.
In Herbology, he repotted Mandrakes with perfect precision.
Ravenclaw gained points.
As always.
This continued—
Even into the afternoon's Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
As a bestselling author, Gilderoy Lockhart wasted no time making an impression.
"I see you've all bought my complete works—excellent!"
"Let's begin with a small quiz. Don't worry—just to see how well you've read them."
He handed out papers.
"Thirty minutes. Begin!"
Lewis looked down.
…Speechless.
The questions had nothing to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Instead—
They looked like a fan club questionnaire.
What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?
What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?
What do you consider Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement?
And so on.
Three full pages.
The final question:
When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday? What is his ideal birthday gift?
Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers.
"Tut tut—almost no one remembered my favorite color is lilac! I mentioned it in Year with the Yeti!"
"Some of you clearly need to reread Wanderings with Werewolves! Chapter twelve—my ideal gift is harmony between magical and non-magical people! Though I wouldn't refuse a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky!"
Then—
He stopped.
Eyes lighting up.
"Ah! Finally—a perfect score!"
He beamed.
"What a handsome young man—just like me! Lewis answered every question correctly!"
"Ten points to Ravenclaw! You may sit closer to the front next time!"
Hermione stared, stunned.
You were the one who looked down on him first… and now you get full marks?
But for Lewis—
It was trivial.
Every book he had read was perfectly stored in his mind.
A perfect score was effortless.
He nodded politely at Lockhart in thanks.
But his real goal—
Was something else.
The Restricted Section.
Access required a professor's signature.
And now—
He had the perfect target.
A gullible, vain, easily manipulated professor.
Lockhart.
This entire performance?
Just laying the groundwork.
This year—
The Restricted Section was his.
However—
Lockhart wasn't done.
After the quiz, he dramatically unveiled a large covered cage.
The moment Lewis sensed the sulfurous aura leaking from inside—
His expression changed.
You brought THAT into a classroom?
What on earth was Lockhart thinking?
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