Hogwarts: Third Dark Lord

Wentworth was initially apprehensive, worried that Professor McGonagall might simply silence him outright. However, when he noticed that she hadn't lost her temper, he couldn't help but admire the traits that made her so popular in the original story.

Still, Wentworth had a very particular goal in mind this time: to leave a less-than-favorable impression on Professor McGonagall. With that resolve, he pressed on, unapologetic.

"Professor McGonagall, I wonder—would you like to start with an introduction to one particular house?"

Without hesitation, and true to her role as the Head of Gryffindor, Professor McGonagall immediately replied, "Let's begin with Gryffindor."

As expected, McGonagall had chosen Gryffindor. Wentworth allowed a subtle smile to touch his lips as he turned to face the first-years.

Years later, a fellow Hogwarts student who had shared that moment would recall: That night, before we had even officially enrolled, Wentworth stood before the majestic castle, the starlight casting a glow on his face. Every first-year gazed up at him, as if we were soldiers awaiting review.

Unconcerned with the potential gravitas of the scene, Wentworth cleared his throat and began, his voice clear and steady:

"Gryffindor: where courage reigns supreme!"

At these words, Professor McGonagall instinctively nodded. It was indeed a fitting description.

"Our Head of House… can turn into a cat!"

The second sentence, however, made McGonagall's expression darken almost instantly.

"Gryffindor: where bravery wins the day, swords are drawn without a second thought, and it's the unofficial hub of heroic protagonists!"

Turning back, Wentworth caught a glimpse of McGonagall taking a deep breath, clearly working to calm herself.

"Courage is indeed a hallmark of Gryffindor," she said, her tone deliberate. "But there is much more to our house than that! Now, let's move on—how about Ravenclaw?"

Pleased to see his plan working, Wentworth inwardly celebrated before shifting focus. He resumed, addressing the eager first-years:

"Ravenclaw: a generation of unparalleled prodigies!"

Again, McGonagall nodded approvingly; few would dispute that Ravenclaw students were among the most brilliant.

"Farthest from the Great Hall, highest in the towers!"

This follow-up left McGonagall with the distinct urge to bury her face in her hands.

"Voices of wisdom, echoing in the library; Divination, Charms, and magical history—ever the points of focus; exams mastered with ease, from O.W.L.s to N.E.W.T.s. Ravenclaws blaze trails of excellence, and only through soaring ambition can they truly embrace the grounded path of wisdom."

As Wentworth finished, one of the first-years could no longer contain their curiosity.

"What about Hufflepuff? My dad's a Hufflepuff!"

Noting that McGonagall made no move to stop him, Wentworth smiled and continued.

"Hufflepuff: strategically located by the kitchens—always first in line for food! Rustic charm, endless butterbeer, and an all-you-can-eat banquet of roast lamb, honeyed duck, and charred goose…"

As he rattled off the dishes, Wentworth noticed several first-years beginning to drool slightly, confirming what he had suspected—Hufflepuff's popularity wasn't unfounded.

"Every Hufflepuff can make an omelette in a cauldron. The motto? 'So what if we're fourth in the House Cup? Last place is just a stepping stone, not a famine!'"

By now, Wentworth was slightly out of breath, having gotten carried away with the culinary descriptions. But before he could rest, another first-year stepped forward—Cassandra, with a raised brow.

"Hey, you haven't introduced Slytherin yet!"

Sighing, Wentworth swallowed quickly and launched into the final house description.

"Slytherin: with lakeside views that may lead to rheumatism! Beneath the Black Lake, where the ceiling doesn't show the sky, but dreams still rise unfettered. A paradise for squid lovers and aquaphiles alike."

"Surrounded by water, Slytherin's dormitories are impervious to fire, burglars, and sandstorms alike. A luxury Atlantis experience without leaving your room!"

When Wentworth finished, silence enveloped the castle grounds for a moment before someone shouted, "Bravo!" Applause erupted from the gathered students.

Standing at the forefront, Wentworth couldn't help but feel like a stand-up comedian.

Yet all good things must end. Professor McGonagall's voice rang out behind him, amplified by a Sonorus charm:

"Silence! Everyone, quiet down!"

Respectful of Hogwarts professors, the first-years quickly complied, and Wentworth obediently retreated into the crowd, his mischief for the night complete.

"Mr. Wentworth, you seem to have a rather detailed understanding of Hogwarts. However, I assure you, many of your perceptions are… mistaken. I believe you'll come to understand more during your time here."

"Now, everyone, form a line and follow me to the Sorting Ceremony! I imagine those waiting inside are growing impatient."

As Professor McGonagall turned toward the castle, her expression unreadable, her thoughts lingered. Dumbledore, this Grindelwald child... Like his grandfather, every public speech—no matter its content—draws applause. And now, every new student knows his name. He's only eleven.

When McGonagall pushed open the grand wooden doors, the chatter of the Great Hall reached the first-years' ears.

Inside, the students at the house tables turned curious gazes toward the new arrivals. As Wentworth passed the Hufflepuff table, Cedric gave him an enthusiastic wave, which Wentworth returned with a polite smile.

The professors, too, seemed intrigued.

"Oh, Professor McGonagall, it seems the first-years are arriving later than usual!"

Through his half-moon spectacles, Dumbledore scanned the group. When his gaze rested momentarily on Wentworth, the boy felt a strange pause before the headmaster moved on.

McGonagall leaned in to whisper something to Dumbledore.

Meanwhile, Wentworth noticed Ilona sitting near Dumbledore—a sign of her new role as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Clearly, she had gained the headmaster's trust.

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