A Summoner in the Wizarding World

Chapter 4: The Boy-Who-Lived

Neville Longbottom, a plump and dark-haired boy with a faint scar on his forehead, stepped our confidently the moment his name is called. The scar, a mark recognizable by any child from the Wizarding World, appears both a trophy for his 'victory' and sore reminder of the terror and war.

From the rumors and hearsay, though Neville's parents are alive and well, his grandmother died protecting him that faithful night. I guess that explains his self-assurance and carefree attitude.

Under the expectant gaze of all students, Neville put on the Sorting Hat. And barely has it touched his head, the Hat bellowed out its decision, "Gryffindor!"

Cheers erupted from our table as Neville made his way towards our table. Percy the Prefect extended a welcoming hand, and others eagerly introduced themselves, clamoring for signatures.

Neville's manufactured winning smile and uncanny stamina for an eleven-year-old seemed almost too perfect, and a subtle air of self-importance lingered around him. It struck me that, in some ways, he bore a resemblance to a certain blonde young man from Slytherin.

Well, no matter, it's not like he would pay attention to a run-of-the-mill orphan like myself.

As that fleeting thought crossed my mind, I quickly wolfed down my food, making a conscious effort not to resemble Ron, whose table manners were far from desirable.

Just as Hermione prepared to berate me for my manners, a booming voice resonated from the podium.

"First years, please note that the Forbidden Forest is off-limits to all students", and with a stern glance at the twins, Dumbledore continued, "some of our older students should know this by now. Also, our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you for the 73rd time that use of magic in the corridors is strictly forbidden. Those who wish to see the full list can visit the Caretaker's office, in which 1663 items are noted. The third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death."

"Harry, you don't think he's serious, isn't he?", asked Hermione worriedly.

"I heard he's eccentric, but Professor Dumbledore shouldn't have any reason to lie to us.", I reassured.

Hermione gulped and looked up warily.

"Well, painful death or not, let's finish the food quickly before they clear off the table."

Ignoring further questions, I helped myself to another serving of roasted boar as she reluctantly began cleaning her plate. Before long, we were led back to our dormitories.

The Griffindor common room is located in the West Towers, only reached after we passed countless moving stairs and corridors.

In front of the path, the portrait of the Fat Lady lay lightly asleep, quickly woken up by Percy as he told her the password.

Similar to the Ravenclaw common room, our windows offered a breathtaking view of the school grounds and Quidditch Pitch. The golden and velvet silk adorning the fireplace added to the warm and cozy atmosphere.

With the prefects leading us, the male and female students split into their respective dormitories. It turned out that I would be sharing the room with the Chosen One, Ron, Seamus, and Dean.

Without initiating a conversation, we each selected a bed and settled down, retrieving our luggage likely carried up by the diligent house elves. As the room grew quieter, I lay in bed with my eyes shut, waiting for the sounds of my dorm mates to subside into slumber.

Before long, snores can be heard from my dorm mates, providing a rhythmic lullaby.

Blinking back the grogginess, I sat up in bed. The room was dimly lit, with only a faint glow emanating from the enchanted candles. A quick glance confirmed that Neville, Ron, Seamus, and Dean are all fast asleep — this was the perfect time to train with my shadow.

With a slight thought, I summoned it. My shadow peeled away from me, stretching across the room like an extension of myself. Tentatively, I experimented with moving only the shadow, commanding it to move and act separately from my physical body.

As I grew more accustomed to controlling it, an unexpected notification interrupted my training. An expressionless voice echoed in my mind, announcing, "+15 Shadow Magic Affinity. 15/100 until the next upgrade." My being felt more attuned to this magic. 'Just a bit more, then', I thought.

As the night wore on, I continued to exercise with other abilities, trying to find the limits of what I could achieve with my shadow. It responded to my commands with increasing precision, mirroring most of my thoughts and intentions - though switching place and acting instinctively is still impossible.

However, the exertion of practicing this newfound skill took quite a toll. Fatigue seeps into my body, dampening the initial excitement. Realizing that I could only push myself so far in one night, I reluctantly decided to call it quits.

Casting a final glance at my shadow, now fading into the darkness, I succumbed to the exhaustion that washed over me. The snoring of my dorm mates became a distant hum, and the enchanting moonlight faded as my eyelids grew heavy.

The room plunged into silence, filled with my anticipation for the day to come.