Hogwarts’ White Lord

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The door opened, and a tall witch with black hair in an emerald green robe stood at the entrance. It was Professor McGonagall.

McGonagall glanced at the first-years, her eyes lingering on Ivan and Hermione for a moment before finally settling on Harry Potter.

The stern-looking Professor McGonagall was serious, but she felt a great deal of sympathy for Harry, given his tragic life. Seeing him finally arrive at Hogwarts gave her a sense of relief.

"First-year students, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said.

"Thank you, Hagrid."

McGonagall replied, "I'll take them from here."

With that, she opened the door wider.

The entrance hall leading to the Great Hall was enormous, with blazing torches lining the stone walls. The ceiling was so high it was almost invisible. In front of them was a grand marble staircase leading to the upper floors.

The young wizards followed Professor McGonagall along the stone floor.

Ivan could hear the buzz of hundreds of voices coming from the doors to the right. The students from the other years had already arrived.

But Professor McGonagall led the first-years to a small, empty chamber at the other end of the hall.

Everyone crowded inside, rubbing shoulders with each other and nervously looking around.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said. "The start-of-term banquet is about to begin, but before you take your seats in the hall, you must first be sorted into your houses."

"Sorting is a very important ceremony because while you are here, your house will be like your family at Hogwarts."

"You will have classes with the other students in your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend your free time in your house common room."

Professor McGonagall spoke, glancing at Ivan subtly, and the perceptive boy noticed the look from the elderly witch, nodding slightly in acknowledgment.

For an exceptional young wizard like Ivan, no head of house would want to miss the chance to have him.

As Ivan's potential guiding teacher, McGonagall hoped to secure him for Gryffindor.

If another house managed to claim him, she'd probably want to toss the Sorting Hat into the furnace and turn it into ashes.

"The names of the four houses are: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin."

On the surface, of course, Professor McGonagall maintained a fair and impartial attitude. "Each house has a proud history and has produced many outstanding witches and wizards."

"During your time at Hogwarts, your successes will earn points for your house, while any rule-breaking will result in point deductions."

"At the end of the year, the house with the most points will be awarded the House Cup, which is a great honor."

Professor McGonagall played the role of head of house excellently, and her serious tone caused the young wizards to fall silent. "I hope that, no matter which house you are placed in, you will bring honor to it."

"Now."

"In a few minutes, the Sorting Ceremony will take place in front of all the teachers and students of the school."

McGonagall continued, "I suggest you take a moment to tidy yourselves up and present yourselves well."

Her gaze lingered briefly on Neville's slightly askew cloak and the dirt on Ron's nose.

At that, all the young wizards began nervously fixing their clothes.

Even Hermione whispered to Ivan, and Harry, in his nervousness, tried to flatten his unruly hair.

"I'll come back to get you when everything is ready," Professor McGonagall said. "Please keep quiet while you wait."

"How do they figure out which house we go into?"

Harry asked Ron, who only had a vague idea himself. "I think we have to pass a test. Fred said it would really hurt, but I think he was joking."

A test?

In front of the whole school?

Ron's words caused a small stir among the first-years, since most of them didn't know any magic yet.

Hermione was in better shape—she wasn't scared of the idea of a test, but she was worried about not getting a good score.

For a moment, everyone seemed anxious.

Ivan could hear Hermione muttering to herself beside him, rapidly reciting the spells she had learned, uncertain which one might be tested.

"Ah!"

Suddenly, the young wizards screamed.

More than 20 ghosts had suddenly floated through the wall behind them. These pearly white, translucent figures slid across the room, whispering to each other.

'Interesting!'

Ivan ignored the ghosts' chatter, focusing more on their existence.

He activated his psychic vision and examined the ghost closest to him carefully.

In Ivan's eyes, the ghost was surrounded by a layer of magical energy, as if it were bound by some kind of power.

So, Ivan controlled his psychic vision and began to magnify the ghost's form by millions of times, observing it from a microscopic perspective.

'What's going on?'

Strangely enough, unlike the magical creatures Ivan had observed in the microscopic world, the ghost had no physical substance.

As Ivan magnified it, the ghost's structure didn't become clearer.

How to describe it?

Normally, if you magnify something like a grain of sand, you'd expect to see smaller and smaller particles that make up the sand.

But with ghosts, it was different.

As Ivan magnified the ghost, its form inexplicably disappeared from his vision once it became small enough.

Yes, it vanished.

It was as though the ghost was made up only of mist, enveloped in magic, without any smaller components.

In other words, the ghosts in the wizarding world didn't seem to follow the physical laws of atoms and molecules.

'Is this the soul?'

Ivan felt he had stumbled upon something fascinating. 'Souls don't belong to the material world, so the laws of the material world don't bind them.'

"Move forward now," Professor McGonagall called as she returned. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin."

At that moment, the ghosts floated away, disappearing through the opposite wall.

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