Chapter 394: Absurd Stitching (Part 2)

"Click!" The door handle turned, and for a moment, Stark felt dazed as he stepped inside. When he came to his senses, he found himself facing a lake with rippling waves.

Stark realized he was sitting in a small boat, still holding an oar... Wait, holding?

Stark looked down at his hands and was shocked to find that the deep, crisscrossing lines were gone; instead, they had become very smooth, as if he had returned to childhood.

Stark looked down and saw he was wearing a black robe, but the size seemed a bit off. He stood up and realized he had indeed returned to childhood, his body having shrunk to about ten years old.

"What are you doing? Sit down and row!" A voice sounded behind him. He turned around and saw another child, dressed just like him, waving at him.

"Row? Why do we have to row?" Stark asked, looking at him.

The student behind him sighed and said, "Can't you see the castle ahead? That's our school. We have to row there!"

"School?" The moment Stark turned around, the scene behind him left him stunned.

Above the shimmering lake surface, brilliant lights were reflected. Looking further up, a colossal, magnificent castle stood in the distance. The moonlight reflected on the lake drifted with the water, like flags fluttering on the gates of a fantasy world.

Stark stared blankly at that castle. The light illuminated his brown eyes, as if reigniting the fire of dreams in a dim, hazy sunset.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" The classmate behind him sighed. "After receiving my acceptance letter, I've seen it in my dreams several times."

Stark slowly sat down, gripped the oar with his hands, and began to row until the small boat drifted shakily to the shore. Many children, dressed in black robes just like him, were herded off the boat like ducks, then led up the steps by a tall figure.

Stepping into the brilliantly lit hall, Stark looked up and saw an endless starry sky and floating candles above. All the children, just like him, stood with their heads tilted back, gazing at this incredibly wonderful and beautiful sight.

At that moment, a person dressed in a black robe but appearing like a teacher walked over, shouting repeatedly, "Line up! Careful! Don't bump into the people next to you!"

Stark was squeezed in the crowd, moving forward with their actions. Since he had gotten off the boat earlier, he had been walking in the front row, so he could just see the male teacher organizing the line.

He wore a loose black robe, round-framed glasses, and there seemed to be a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. Stark heard someone call him "Professor." He felt a bit strange because this teacher looked very young, not like someone of an age to be a professor.

He was about to ask, but at that moment, the person sitting in the main seat at the very front of the hall gently tapped a cup with a spoon. Stark looked up and was blinded by the bright light of the candles.

He heard people whispering quietly beside him: "Is that the headmaster? He's so young."

"Yes, I heard he was previously a professor of Herbology and only recently became the new headmaster."

"Shh, everyone be quiet! The Sorting is about to begin!"

"The Sorting? What's that?" Stark turned his head to ask the person beside him. The student next to him blinked and said, "Are your parents Muggles too? But surely you didn't even read the notes on the acceptance letter?"

"This school has four houses. Which house you enter will be decided by a Sorting Hat. I want to go to Gryffindor the most. What about you?"

"Four houses? What's the difference between them?"

"Hmm, I can't say for sure, but I heard Gryffindor is the best house. Many famous wizards come from there. Their representative animal is the lion. I really like lions..."

Stark listened as that student chattered on about many things regarding the four houses. He turned his head back and forth, looking around at the scene, and found it so real and detailed that it didn't seem like a dream at all.

If this really was a dream, it must be a beautiful one. Stark looked at his palms; there were no lines brought by time, only the young, vibrant life pulsing in the tender veins.

What was he doing at this age?

Stark thought that he certainly wasn't attending a boarding school with these children. He remembered that back then, he liked staying in Howard's laboratory, fiddling with mechanical parts, taking toys apart, and then putting them back together.

Stark speculated in his mind: Did Schiller spend his childhood in a boarding school? Does this represent some memory of his, or the reason for the formation of a certain personality?

Just as he was thinking this, he heard the young male teacher from before standing beside a seat, holding a list and calling out names. Every time a name was called, a student in a black robe would rush up and sit in that chair.

That male teacher would pick up a hat and place it on their head. What shocked Stark was that the hat actually spoke.

Well, this is a dream; nothing strange happens in dreams, right? Just as Stark was thinking this, he heard the hat suddenly shout loudly: "Hufflepuff!"

Stark was startled by that sharp voice. Many students were like him, and a murmur broke out below, seemingly discussing the Hufflepuff house.

After listening for a while, Stark realized they were calling names according to surnames. It would still be a while before it was his turn, since surnames starting with 'S' should be in a later section.

But there weren't many students waiting in the whole hall, so it was Stark's turn very soon. He heard the male teacher standing in front call out his full name: "Anthony Stark!"

Stark walked forward curiously and sat in that chair. The moment the dusty gray hat fell onto his head, he felt a sensation like an electric shock.

"Oh... oh..."

He heard a theatrical, slightly comical voice sound in his mind: "Another genius little brain. Let me see..."

"Hey, wait!... What is this? And what is this? My goodness! What is all this stuff in your brain?!"

"!"

"... Little Tony, did you know? The teacher standing next to you once served as an Auror in the Ministry of Magic, and an elite Auror at that. If I scream, he will arrest you immediately!"

"Look at your brain!" The Sorting Hat suddenly raised its tone and said: "Filled with all sorts of Muggle knowledge! Too much... Good heavens, is your brain made of machinery? Do you need some lubricant?"

"Why do you talk so much nonsense?" Stark asked in his mind.

The Sorting Hat fell silent, seemingly having never encountered such a blunt student. After a while, he said, "Which house do you want to go to?"

Just as Stark was about to speak, he heard the hat say on its own: "If I don't sort you into Ravenclaw, it would truly tarnish my reputation. But actually, I also see the courage of Gryffindor and the kindness of Hufflepuff in your heart. Where do you want to go?"

Stark hesitated for a moment, then said, "I heard Gryffindor is the best house. Is that true?"

"No, no, no. It's just the most famous house. There is no distinction of good or bad among the houses of this school, only whether they suit you."

"Do you think Ravenclaw suits me very well?"

"The founder there once had a very famous motto: 'Excellence in wisdom is humanity's greatest treasure'."

"I choose Ravenclaw." Stark said without hesitation.

"Good!" The Sorting Hat raised its tone again, but this time, instead of directly shouting the name, he gave a long descriptive phrase:

"A lucky house will welcome an unparalleled genius once again. That is—"

Everyone below cheered, shouting the names of their houses, seemingly expecting the arrival of the next celebrity. At this moment, the Sorting Hat shouted loudly: "Wisdom belongs to Ravenclaw!"

When Stark got down from the chair, the male teacher standing beside him smiled at him. When he walked back to his seat, the seniors came up to him and said, "You will like it here. We have the best common room and library, and the best brains."

The candlelight began to flicker. The lively atmosphere continued. In the brilliantly lit hall, laughter and chatter never ceased. Only when Stark felt a bit tired did they, led by the seniors, return to their common room.

Stark had never attended such a boarding school, but he had heard rumors about Catholic boarding schools. He thought this would be a school with very strict management, where everyone acted rigidly according to the Bible. But very soon, he discovered that the wonders of this school went far beyond that.

My Bingshan

"This is the door to the common room. I think you've all seen it. See this door knocker? It is our guardian. You must answer the question the door knocker asks you before you can enter the common room."

The senior standing at the very front raised her head high and said, "The Sorting Hat has recognized your wisdom, but every year, quite a few little fools are locked out because they can't answer the question. I think you wouldn't want that to be you."

"Today, I will demonstrate once. After that, you will open the door yourselves."

When Stark heard the door knocker speak, he felt no great shock; he convinced himself to accept all the unreasonable things here by telling himself, "This is a dream."

Putting those aside, he found it all quite interesting; after all, scenes where one seriously answers a door knocker's questions are rare.

Walking into the lounge, Stark was somewhat surprised by its splendor; not that he lacked experience, but this style was one he had never seen before, more like a scene from a novel or a movie.

Blue silk draped down from the walls, row upon row of bookshelves lined the walls, and large arched floor-to-ceiling windows let moonlight spill onto the blue carpet; everything seemed wonderful and beautiful.

Thus, Stark dreamed a dream within his dream, dreaming of going to school, attending classes, and doing homework like an ordinary person; these things, originally dull and a complete waste of time in his imagination, became wonderful after being infected by some of the school's styles.

When morning light scattered across his dormitory, Stark sat up from his bed, feeling a long-lost relaxation; his somewhat monotonous childhood had gained some different memories, even though he knew very well this was just a dream, yet a long-lost sweet dream could still lift one's spirits.

Unfortunately, this happy mood lasted only until the start of the first class, when Stark heard the teacher on the platform say:

"As everyone knows, the first class of the semester is Charms; here we will teach you how to use your wands to cast spells. Of course, in your first year, we will learn the simplest spells."

"Those powerful spells once sung of by all, you have seven years to slowly learn them."

"So now, take out your wands..."

Stark froze before his desk.

Wands?

Magic???