C18 Distributing the Camp

"Duck your heads!"

As the first fleet of boats neared the cliff, Hagrid bellowed.

Everyone ducked, and the boats ferried them through a curtain of ivy clinging to the cliff face. In the sudden darkness, Liang Mu quickly retrieved a small vial of potion from his pocket and downed it.

They emerged into a secret, expansive entrance that seemed to have once been a hidden passageway.

Traversing a pitch-black tunnel, they seemed to enter beneath the castle, eventually reaching an area resembling an underground dock. They then climbed onto a rocky ground scattered with cobblestones and pebbles.

"Hey, Neville, here's your toad."

A Player called out, passing a toad to Neville.

Neville glanced at the toad, sniffed, and with a stoic face, accepted it, politely offering his thanks.

Liang Mu's mouth twitched. Had Neville become desensitized? These Players were certainly a unique bunch.

The group ascended a flight of stone steps and congregated before a massive oak door.

Hagrid turned to face the Little Wizards behind him, his intense gaze causing some of the more timid ones to step back.

With a hefty fist, Hagrid knocked thrice on the castle door.

It swung open immediately, revealing a tall Witch in a green robe standing before them.

Her demeanor was stern, yet her eyes softened as she regarded the Little Wizards—it was Prof. Mcgonagall.

"First-year students, this is Prof. Mcgonagall," announced Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I'll take it from here," she said.

Prof. Mcgonagall's voice was cool, rhythmic, and graceful, yet her stern appearance made Ron gulp.

She pulled the door open wide, revealing a hall reminiscent of Gringotts Bank, with torches blazing around the stone walls.

The ceiling soared so high it was nearly out of sight, and Liang Mu couldn't shake the feeling that something lurked above. Ahead lay a grand marble staircase leading directly to the upper floors.

Following Prof. Mcgonagall across the stone-paved floor, the murmurs of conversation from hundreds of students behind the right door were audible. The rest of the school's classes had likely already gathered, considering the time they had spent on the road.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Prof. Mcgonagall announced, pausing at the front of the group. "The opening feast is about to begin, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you must first be sorted into your respective houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony, as your house will be like your home here at Hogwarts. You'll attend classes, sleep in the dormitories, and spend your free time in the common rooms with your housemates."

Prof. Mcgonagall's gaze lingered on Harry's unruly hair, where a lightning-shaped scar was barely visible.

"The names of the four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and has produced many a distinguished wizard. During your time at Hogwarts, your achievements will earn your house points, while rule-breaking will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a highly esteemed honor. I trust that you will all do your best to earn glory for your house, regardless of which one you are sorted into."

"In a few minutes, the Sorting Ceremony will commence in front of the entire school. I suggest you use this time to tidy yourselves up and prepare," she advised.

"I will return to escort you once everything is ready," Prof. Mcgonagall said, then added, "Please remain quiet while you wait," before leaving the room, much to everyone's relief.

[Mission: House Assignment]

[Mission Details: Every Little Wizard must participate in the Sorting Ceremony upon entering Hogwarts and join one of the four houses. Once the sorting is complete, the house mission will be activated.]

"How can they accurately sort us into the right house?" Harry asked Ron, standing at the forefront.

"I reckon it's some sort of test. Fred said it was really painful, but I'm pretty sure he was kidding," Ron replied.

As if on cue, the Little Wizards began to murmur among themselves, the room quickly filling with a buzz of speculation.

Hermione, who had been listening in, continued to silently rehearse the Magic Spells she had learned from her books, feeling a twinge of frustration that there were still a few incantations she hadn't quite memorized.

Regarding the test, each Little Wizard had their own take on it. The players who came prepared wore smirks, observing the group of very young and panicked Little Wizards with amusement.

Upon hearing someone mention a solo battle with a fire dragon, Malfoy's face twisted into a sneer, and he raised his voice on purpose: "You've all been duped. My father is one of the twelve board members at Hogwarts. He informed me that the sorting test is about discerning a Wizard's bloodline and reciting the names of all Pure-blood families."

Liang Mu could only shake his head at Malfoy, who had been strutting around since disembarking. The boy was in for a rude awakening. It was clear he was his father's son, albeit a bit too overconfident, while he ignored the stares fixated on him—stares from Bi Su and his group.

They had planned to shadow Malfoy, but unexpectedly, Malfoy had been tailing Liang Mu. If the opportunity had presented itself, Bi Su wouldn't have hesitated to put Liang Mu in his place.

Regarding Liang Mu's identity, Bi Su and his companions harbored suspicions, but with scant information on Liang Mu, they had no choice but to let the matter rest.

Liang Mu was indifferent to the surrounding stares. She had no intention of seeking out trouble with these individuals, but should they insist on courting disaster, Liang Mu wouldn't hesitate to let them experience the effects of various Magic Medicines.

A piercing female scream suddenly cut through the air, causing everyone to instinctively glance toward the source of the commotion. "What's the matter, Hanna?"

Hermione grasped Hanna's hand, her gaze shifting to the ghost that had materialized out of nowhere. A slight tremble in her ears betrayed her as she remembered the ghost stories she had once read. For the first time, she resented her usually cherished memory.

Hanna was so frightened she was gasping for air, and the others felt the same. From the wall behind them, about twenty ghosts burst forth.

The pearl-white, semi-transparent ghosts glided through the room, murmuring amongst themselves. Yet, they paid little heed to the first-year students, seemingly engrossed in their own spectral debate.

A portly ghost with the appearance of a young monk spoke up,

"We ought to forgive, we ought to forget. I say, let's give him one more chance —"

"My dear monk, haven't we given Peeves chances aplenty? Yet he's gone and given us all unsavory nicknames. You know, he hardly qualifies as a ghost. I say, what are you lot doing here?"

A ghost, donning a ruffled collar, suddenly spotted the first-year students.

Silence followed; no one responded.