It was still the familiar Great Hall, still the ceiling open to the sky that all graduates remembered fondly, still the same old wizard with pure white hair and beard. The only difference was a few fewer familiar faces and a bit more new blood.
Like a well-built building with ever-changing tenants, Hogwarts was the backbone of the British wizarding world, far more so than the Ministry of Magic.
Fudge stepped down, then Scrimgeour; when Scrimgeour was gone, there was Thicknesse; and after him, Auror Kingsley. The Ministry never lacked ministers.
Yet throughout history, the Ministry has always been short on people, those who do the real work: cleaning, paperwork, and facing dangerous magical creatures on the front lines. As for those who sit around sipping tea, reading the paper, and thinking up creative ways to make people miserable, like Umbridge, those positions were never in shortage.
Most of the competent workers came from Hogwarts. Ever since Dumbledore took over the school in 1956 from the previous headmaster, Armando Dippet, he had been supplying the Ministry with talent for nearly fifty years.
Among the awe-filled eyes of the young wizards, the world-renowned first white wizard revealed no trace of arrogance. Instead, he smiled warmly at the students at each table, a smile designed to inspire and comfort, especially the anxious first-years encountering this strange new world for the first time.
For the newcomers, this gentle smile was like sunlight breaking through after a storm. Too bad it didn't fool Allen at all.
He didn't think Dumbledore lacked mischief. Although usually wise and shrewd, Harry had noticed Dumbledore's playful, sometimes downright eccentric side on their first meeting.
So that kind smile was just a mask. The truth: Dumbledore was watching the spectacle unfold. Hogwarts' tradition of the Sorting Ceremony was to never tell the first-years how they would be sorted, offering a small scare followed by a sense of familial warmth to help eleven-year-olds adjust quickly. Of course, enjoying the show was also a likely motivation.
When the Sorting Hat was placed on the first-years' heads, the new students quivered like quails, standing under the gaze of a crowd six times their size, not exactly a comforting experience.
If all went as planned, these first-years would become the stars of the Great Hall for the foreseeable future. Each student's sorting would earn cheers and heartfelt blessings from older students as they found their place.
But everyone knows that when the word "if" appears, a plot twist is coming. And just as everyone eagerly watched the Sorting Hat decide their fate, sharp-eyed Allen noticed Dumbledore whispering to an anxious Snape, like ants on a hot pan.
Those few whispered words caused Snape to abandon watching over his house's first-years. Almost unnoticed, he quietly slipped from his seat.
It didn't take much for Allen to guess where Snape went, undoubtedly to find Harry.
Though Harry wasn't the girl "Harri," Snape was arguably the man most concerned for him, besides Dumbledore and young Sirius. Only Harry could make Snape forgo his duties as a Head of House to check on a student.
The only problem? This concern was being misplaced, and the student in question was not cooperating.
Snape's efficiency was unmatched. Soon after he left, Professor McGonagall was summoned away by him. God help you, Harry.
The situation escalated further, Dumbledore was also summoned, but his calm expression suggested all was well.
Not like he just drove a flying car to school, Allen thought, shrugging off the astonished looks of the young wizards.
But it was serious, Harry had nearly gotten himself killed.
Allen knew the outcome, but the others did not. A flying car out of control was no trivial matter, especially for two second-year students.
No wonder everyone was angry. Harry had gone too far. A real accident at that height? Even Dumbledore couldn't have saved him.
Punishments aside, judging by which professors had returned and which hadn't, Harry was likely serving detention.
Allen couldn't help but give a quiet thumbs up, sometimes you can't go easy on reckless kids, especially twelve-year-olds driving without a license. A good hunger-inducing punishment was in order.
This year, the first-years were unlucky. Normally, after sorting, students would settle in their House seats. Dumbledore would say a few words, introduce new professors, and then the feast would begin.
But not this year. After sorting, one professor had vanished, the Deputy Head vanished, and even the Headmaster disappeared. As for the feast? Forget it, they might as well have entered a fake Hogwarts.
Not just the first-years, but the returning students were flustered. Even if they weren't curious about Dumbledore, gossip was unavoidable. And the pressing question: Where's the food?
While Dumbledore and others were gone, prefects split their duties, half to calm remaining students, the other half to ask around discreetly for information. Even though students didn't know what had happened, Hogwarts' portraits and ghosts were far from decoration.
Once the gossip returned, spreading quickly, Dumbledore and the others finally reappeared.
After a brief speech, the long-awaited food was set on the tables. Starving students dug in enthusiastically.
Allen, eating, suddenly laughed, catching his roommates' curiosity.
"Allen, what's so funny?"
"Nothing, I just found Dumbledore's speech a bit too amusing," he replied. The others frowned, how could it be that funny?
Allen himself couldn't explain his amusement. He had just realized something: Dumbledore called himself an "old codger." Suddenly, Allen remembered Dumbledore's age. This wouldn't normally be funny, except someone had been discussing Muggles becoming wizards. That reminded Allen of the legend of someone becoming a wizard at thirty.
Considering Voldemort was in his sixties, the story now seemed… oddly plausible?