“Dawn Richter?”

Professor Flitwick was taken aback.

During the Sorting Ceremony, he had made it a point to memorize the names of the new students, especially those sorted into his own house.

He quickly recalled the matching figure. “The boy with the red eyes, right? Very adorable… What about him?”

“Well…” Professor McGonagall organized her words carefully.

“This child comes from a Muggle family, with no ties whatsoever to the wizarding world. However, when he was six years old, by sheer accident, he found his way to the Leaky Cauldron.”

“Since then, for five whole years, he wandered Diagon Alley without any guidance.”

“You know how chaotic that place can be. For a young child with no one to teach him, it’s all too easy to be led astray.”

Professor McGonagall sighed, her face full of concern. “I’m worried it might have a negative effect on him.”

Although Dawn had not behaved inappropriately when she first met him, nor shown any signs of dabbling in Dark Magic, there was something about him that gave her the unsettling feeling that he could stray from the right path at any moment.

“Hmm, surviving alone in the wizarding world? Ha! The lad is bold, I’ll give him that!”

Professor Flitwick stroked his chin in surprise, a tone of admiration coloring his voice.

After all, besides intelligence, bravery was the second quality he esteemed most as a dueling master.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to guide him properly.”

Professor Flitwick promised solemnly, “As the Head of Ravenclaw, it’s my duty.”

“Thank you, Filius,” Professor McGonagall seemed relieved, rubbing her temples as she spoke.

At that moment, Dumbledore joined the conversation. “Minerva, you seem to have quite a favorable impression of this Dawn boy.”

“You could say that. In my view, this child will achieve extraordinary things in the future,” she said, a rare smile flickering on her weary face.

“Do you know, Albus? His room was filled with nearly a hundred magical books, all well-read. A person who can endure loneliness and find joy in knowledge is destined to succeed in whatever they pursue.”

“I see…”

Dumbledore cast a thoughtful glance toward the bustling dining hall, where the red-eyed boy sat a bit apart from the others, his half-moon spectacles catching a glint of hidden emotion.

“A raven who thirsts for knowledge,” he murmured to himself.

As the lively atmosphere carried on, the feast eventually came to an end.

Dumbledore gave his usual reminders: no entering the Forbidden Forest, no spell-casting in the corridors, and so on.

However, this year, he added a new, ominous warning at the end: “For those who do not wish to meet a painful and untimely death, avoid the corridor on the right side of the fourth floor.”

Dawn understood perfectly. This was Dumbledore setting the bait for Harry Potter’s little adventure.

Such an obvious lure was almost too blatant. Even Aemon, sitting beside him, furrowed his brows, sensing something was off.

After the students sang the Hogwarts school song together, they were finally dismissed.

At the Ravenclaw table, a tall young witch with curly hair stood up.

“Hello, everyone! I’m Penelope Clearwater, Prefect of Ravenclaw. First-year students, please follow me. I’ll lead you to our common room.”

The Ravenclaw common room was located in the west side of the castle, near the top of one of the main towers. It was quite a climb from the Great Hall, requiring a long trek up a spiral staircase.

Dawn realized that this daily trip up and down was not only tiring but a huge waste of time.

It would be much easier to fly straight up on a broomstick. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be buying one anytime soon.

It wasn’t really because of the school rule that first-years couldn’t bring brooms—after all, Harry Potter had been allowed to join the Quidditch team in his first year and even received a broom from Professor McGonagall.

No, the real problem was that, for someone like Dawn whose finances were tight, investing in more books was far more practical than purchasing a broom.

Maybe he could try making one himself someday?

Lost in thought, Dawn followed the group.

Penelope led them to a grand door adorned with a bronze eagle knocker.

At Hogwarts, each house had a different method for entering its common room.

Hufflepuff required tapping a wooden barrel in a certain rhythm, while Gryffindor and Slytherin used passwords that changed periodically.

As for Ravenclaw…

One had to answer a riddle posed by the bronze eagle knocker.

For example—

“I am neither alive nor dead; I am unseen and untouchable, yet I can bring down the mighty and raise the weak. What am I?”

Penelope turned to the group of new students.

“Would anyone like to give it a try? You’ll need to get used to this if you don’t want to be stuck waiting for others every time you enter.”

The first-years exchanged hesitant glances.

Aemon raised his hand high. “Time,” he answered.

“Correct,” the bronze eagle replied.

Its wings spread open, and the door swung inward, revealing a spacious, bright, circular room.

The decor featured blue and bronze tones, with bookshelves lining the walls and a starry sky mural covering the ceiling, symbolizing wisdom and exploration.

The centerpiece of the room was a tall white marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw, one of Hogwarts’ four founders.

“Excellent!”

Penelope clapped her hands and smiled warmly at Aemon, recalling how he had insisted on being sorted into their house. She praised him,

“You truly belong in Ravenclaw, Mr. Carter. Welcome.”

Aemon froze for a moment.

Because of what Dawn and the Sorting Hat had said, a small seed of doubt had been planted in his heart. Hearing Penelope’s words now filled him with gratitude.

“Thank you, Prefect!”

Penelope chuckled and shook her head, then addressed the rest of the group.

“Everyone should try it at least once. Even if you fail, it’s good practice. I believe there are no fools in Ravenclaw.”

Encouraged, several more students stepped up, but only one other managed to answer correctly.

Dawn, meanwhile, did not join the crowd. He stood at the side, his eyes fixed on the bronze eagle knocker.

Unlike the Sorting Hat, it wasn’t a sentient artifact, but it was intricately crafted with dense runes and a complex web of magical circuits, enough to make his head spin.

Realizing he couldn’t memorize it all at once, Dawn rubbed his forehead and decided to study it another day.

After all, the bronze eagle wasn’t going anywhere.

Besides, he was dead tired.

He had only caught a little nap on the train, and after eating his fill, sleep was tugging at him harder than ever.

Seeing that the other new students were now treating the riddles like a game and were in no hurry to go in, Dawn finally lost patience.

He stepped forward.

“I can be broken but never touched; I can be spoken of but never heard; I can be given but never received. What am I?”

Dawn thought for a moment. “A promise.”

“Correct,” the bronze eagle replied.

The door opened once again.

“Well done!” Penelope praised out of habit.

But when she saw Dawn actually walking through the doorway, she quickly called after him,

“Wait, little brother! There are a few rules you need to know—”

“Tell me next time,” Dawn interrupted, waving a hand without looking back. “Sorry, I’m really exhausted.”

_______________

Upto 20 chapters ahead on patreon :-

patreon.com/BloodAncestor

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep