Chapter 29: Arrival

Harry up ahead also noticed something odd and whispered to Hagrid on the nearby boat: “That blond-haired first-year doesn’t seem to be in mortal danger—he feels like he’s being toyed with.”

At Harry’s reminder, Hagrid too felt something was off; everyone else had climbed back onto the boat, yet he alone remained bobbing up and down in the water.

Hagrid scanned the surroundings, observing for a long while but detecting no magical traces; he could only mutter, “No magical fluctuations anywhere—probably that boy angered some magical creature in the Black Lake.”

After tormenting Malfoy for a while, Chu Yang had vented most of his anger, so he released the Wood Release power, freeing Malfoy.

Malfoy immediately felt the grip on his legs vanish and paddled with all his strength toward the boat.

Seeing the vines and branches around the boat retract, Goyle and Crabbe carefully pulled the exhausted Malfoy back aboard.

“Puke!”

Malfoy, barely lying down, began vomiting violently—he had no idea what was in that lake, but he’d swallowed a lot of it, making the scene utterly gruesome.

“I think his first stop after orientation will be the infirmary—I hope the staff there can help him,” Hermione said, her expression carrying three parts sympathy and seven parts disgust.

Chu Yang nodded, smiling broadly.

Hogwarts stood atop a cliff, surrounded by water on three sides; directly below lay a cavern, its dark entrance resembling the snarling mouth of a monster.

The young witches and wizards gazed up in awe at the towering school, unable to suppress their exclamations.

Only now did they truly grasp the reality of the school they would attend—not just as written legends, but as something tangible.

The young witches and wizards unmistakably felt that Hogwarts was the most magnificent and awe-inspiring school in magical history—and there was no second place.

The boat drifted into the cavern; after a brief stretch of darkness, light gradually filled the surroundings, and Chu Yang saw that deep within the cavern beneath the castle lay a dock.

At Hagrid’s prompting, the new students disembarked in orderly fashion and gathered together in groups.

Malfoy lay vomiting like a pile of mud, too weak to stand; Goyle and Crabbe had to carry him, his expression dazed.

“He doesn’t look like he’ll make it to tonight’s Sorting Ceremony…”

Hagrid muttered, then led the students forward along a winding stone staircase.

At the top of the stairs lay a flat courtyard; beyond it stood the main entrance to Hogwarts.

The doors stood open, as if they had just welcomed a group inside.

“Your older classmates have already arrived—follow the stairs up and Itachi’ll see Professor McGonagall. Remember, show respect,” Hagrid warned the newcomers, then walked straight to Malfoy, scooped him up, and slung him over his shoulder.

Malfoy had just stopped vomiting and was beginning to feel better—until he caught Hagrid’s overpowering body odor and the stench of animals, causing him to vomit again violently.

Chu Yang caught a glimpse of green bile and began wondering if he’d gone too far.

“Poor child—I must take Itachi straight to the infirmary,” Hagrid sighed sympathetically, striding off quickly.

The remaining young witches and wizards exchanged glances, then followed Hagrid’s instructions, climbing the stairs; soon they saw a tall, elderly witch with a stern expression.

“Hello, newcomers, welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, who will teach Itachi Transfiguration, Head of Gryffindor House, and Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts.”

Professor McGonagall wore a dark green robe that accentuated her cold demeanor; the new students stood before her, too frightened to breathe.

“Your upperclassmen, your professors, and Headmaster Dumbledore are waiting inside—but before the Welcome Feast, Itachi must undergo the Sorting Ceremony.”

“Itachi will be sorted into one of four Houses, where Itachi will spend your seven years of study.”

“The four Houses are: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each has its own glorious history and has produced outstanding witches and wizards.”

“During your time here, Itachi will attend classes, live in dormitories, and spend your free time in your House’s common room with your fellow House members.”

“Your outstanding achievements will earn points for your House, while any misconduct will deduct points; at year’s end, the House with the most points wins the House Cup—a great honor. I hope that no matter which House Itachi join, Itachi will bring glory to it.”

Chu Yang listened to this familiar orientation speech, a wry smile playing on his lips.

He knew that no matter how many points Harry had deducted from Gryffindor early on, Dumbledore would find some excuse to restore them.

While Dumbledore’s intent to mold Harry Potter into the Chosen One was clear, regardless of motive, such behavior was inherently unfair to the other Houses.

Fortunately, Chu Yang had no interest whatsoever in the House Cup—let it go to whomever; as long as it didn’t interfere with his magical research, he didn’t care.

After the orientation, Professor McGonagall was about to lead the students into the Great Hall when her peripheral vision caught the water stains on Goyle and Crabbe.

Professor McGonagall frowned and walked up to them; Goyle and Crabbe froze, trembling, as if they could already hear her reprimand.

Yet the stern-looking professor asked gently, “What happened to Itachi? Did Itachi fall into the lake on the way here?”

Professor McGonagall had meant it as a joke—but saw Goyle and Crabbe nodding cautiously.

“Itachi fell in?” she said in disbelief. “I charmed every boat—designed to navigate automatically to the cavern dock and to protect students from falling into the lake.”

“It’s true, Professor!” Goyle glanced fearfully at Chu Yang before explaining: “A monster attacked our boat—it kept dragging us into the water until it finally stopped.”

“A monster?” Professor McGonagall said, startled. “Impossible. The route Itachi took isn’t within the territory of any magical creature in the Black Lake.”

“It’s true, Professor!” Crabbe cried out, desperate to be believed. “Goyle and I are fine, but Malfoy couldn’t get back on the boat—he was trapped in the water, drank a lot of lake water, and was just taken to the infirmary.”

(End of Chapter)