At last, the desserts vanished from the tables, and Professor Dumbledore rose once more. The Great Hall fell silent once again.
"Now that we're all fed and watered," Dumbledore began cheerfully, "I have a few start-of-term notices to give you all.
"First-years, please note that the forest on the grounds is strictly forbidden to all students. And some of our older students would do well to remember that as well."
Dumbledore's twinkling gaze flickered briefly toward the Weasley twins.
"Also, Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to remind you that magic should not be used in the corridors between classes.
"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.
"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
"That's odd," Percy frowned thoughtfully.
"What's odd?" Ethan asked.
"Usually, whenever there's a place we're forbidden from entering, Professor Dumbledore explains why," Percy said. "Everyone knows the Forbidden Forest is full of dangerous creatures. Even if he can't explain to everyone, he usually tells us Prefects exactly what's going on."
"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song together!" Dumbledore announced merrily, waving his hands to quiet down the hall.
The smiles of the teachers seated behind him froze instantly.
Dumbledore gave his wand a small flick, and a long golden ribbon floated out from its tip, forming twisting, snake-like letters high above the tables.
"Everyone pick your favorite tune," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And off we go!"
The students and teachers sang in chaotic disharmony. Ethan heard the Weasley twins loudly singing along to the tune of a funeral march, and inspired, he threw back his head and belted out the lyrics in the exaggerated style of traditional Chinese opera.
Dumbledore conducted the last few bars enthusiastically with his wand, and when they finally finished, his applause was loudest of all.
"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! Now, bedtime. Off you trot!"
—
"Gryffindor first-years, follow me, please! Keep up now, thank you!"
Gryffindor's new students followed Percy through the noisy crowd, out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase.
"This is the quickest way to our dormitory, but mind the stairs—they tend to move around," Percy explained as they climbed.
Portraits hanging on the marble walls around them began waving and greeting the students warmly.
"Welcome to Hogwarts!"
They climbed higher, passing through a hidden door concealed behind a tapestry, and emerged into a corridor lined with tall windows. Suddenly, Percy stopped short at the front of the group.
Hovering in mid-air ahead of them was a bundle of walking sticks. Percy halted so abruptly that several students behind nearly crashed into him.
"It's Peeves," Percy whispered. "A poltergeist who loves causing trouble."
He raised his voice sternly. "Peeves! Come out now!"
In response, a loud, rude, raspberry-like noise echoed down the corridor.
"Do you want me to fetch the Bloody Baron?" Percy threatened.
"Pfffft!"
A small, semi-transparent little man appeared suddenly, floating cross-legged in mid-air, clutching the bundle of walking sticks. Unlike the pale ghosts they'd seen earlier, Peeves was brightly colored and wore a wicked grin.
"Ooh, looky here—ickle firsties! And a big, silly-looking one too—oh, how lovely!" Peeves cackled gleefully, his eyes darting toward Ethan as he delivered the last line.
Ethan: ?
Ethan stared at the smirking poltergeist floating overhead, silently committing this particular grudge firmly to memory.
"I'm not joking, Peeves!" Percy shouted again, irritated.
Peeves stuck out his tongue, blew another raspberry, and vanished. The bundle of walking sticks dropped straight toward Neville's head—Ethan discreetly flicked his wand from his sleeve, giving it a quick shake, causing the sticks to veer just enough to miss Neville and clatter harmlessly to the floor.
"You'll want to watch out for Peeves," Percy warned as they continued forward. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him—even we Prefects can't really keep him in line."
Ethan nodded thoughtfully, already plotting ways to deal with that troublesome little menace later on.
"Here we are," Percy announced.
At the end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very plump woman dressed in pink.
"Password?" she asked politely.
"Dragon dung," Percy replied.
The portrait swung open, revealing a round hole in the wall behind it. They climbed through into a cozy, circular room filled with squashy armchairs and sofas, with a crackling fireplace casting warmth and flickering shadows.
"Welcome to the Gryffindor common room," Percy said proudly. "Boys' dormitories are up the stairs to your left, girls' to the right. Your trunks have already been brought up."
—
"Harry Potter... Neville Longbottom... Ethan? Ethan, over here, you're with us!" Harry and Ron called out, reading names on the dormitory doors and waving at Ethan.
Ethan gave a nod and followed them into their dormitory—a semicircular room lined with five four-poster beds draped in deep crimson curtains. Their trunks were already waiting at the foot of each bed.
"So, Ethan, it's true then? You really took part in that—what was it again? The Cup War or something?" Ron quickly changed into pajamas, sitting cross-legged on the leftmost bed and leaning toward Ethan eagerly.
"Dragged into it unwillingly, mostly," Ethan shrugged, pulling his pajama top over his head. "If that Dark wizard hadn't been so spectacularly unlucky, I probably wouldn't be here. Honestly, the whole experience was a bit blurry—I only learned the details from Professor Fig."
"What on earth are you two talking about?" Harry, sitting on the bed between them, looked utterly confused.
"I'll explain properly another time," Ethan said gently. "It's late—let's get some sleep. Look, Neville and Seamus can barely keep their eyes open."
Neville, hugging his pillow and clearly planning to stay awake for Ethan's story, and Seamus, who was rolling around on his bed, both froze guiltily:
I didn't! I'm not! Don't make things up!
Yet they really were exhausted. Soon enough, everyone was fast asleep.
Perhaps he'd drunk too much grape juice during the feast; Ethan woke in the middle of the night with a desperate need for the bathroom. As he got up quietly, he noticed Harry curled up on the window ledge, gazing silently into the darkness outside.
"Harry?" Ethan approached softly, sitting down next to him. "What's wrong? Can't sleep?"
"I... I'm afraid..." Harry whispered quietly.
"Afraid?"
"I'm afraid to sleep," Harry murmured, shrinking into himself. "I'm scared that this is all a dream—that magic, Hagrid, Hogwarts, Ron, even you—are all just a dream. I'm terrified I'll wake up and everything will vanish, and I'll be back in the cupboard at the Dursleys'."
Ethan sighed inwardly. Harry had spent the first ten years of his life abused and neglected by the Dursleys—how could a child raised that way possibly feel secure? Thrust suddenly into this magical world, it was understandable he'd fear it was too good to be true.
"It's all right, Harry. I understand," Ethan said gently, placing a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder.
"But this isn't a dream. Me, Ron, Hogwarts, everything you've experienced—it's all real. You're just tired. Go to sleep, and when you wake up tomorrow, you'll still be here in Gryffindor."
Harry allowed Ethan to coax him gently back to bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. Ethan patted Harry's blanket reassuringly and stood, heading for the door.
"Where are you going?" Harry whispered.
"Bathroom," Ethan replied lightly. "Coming with me?"