Starting at Hogwarts, Logging into Elden Ring

Watching the cousins’ easy closeness, Harry’s expression grew a little downcast.

He thought of his own hateful cousin. He thought of the parents he had never even met.

"Harry, you alright?" Ron, sitting beside him, noticed his mood.

"I’m fine... Oh, Ron! You said your whole family are wizards, right?" Harry suddenly grabbed Ron’s shoulder.

"Then do you know anything about my parents?"

The question clearly went beyond Ron’s knowledge.

"Sorry, I don’t really know. I only know you’re the savior of the wizarding world. Everyone says you defeated You-Know-Who."

The answer left Harry disappointed. He turned next to Hermione.

"Hermione, those books you mentioned that talked about me—can I borrow them?"

"Of course. A History of Modern Magic, The Rise and Fall of Dark Magic, and Important Magical Events of the Twentieth Century. Cousin, could you get them for me?"

"But if you’re hoping for details about your parents, I wouldn’t get your hopes up. They mostly just talk about you."

"Thanks. I still want to see them." Harry eagerly took the books and buried himself in reading.

Arthur, seeing this, pulled out a book himself. He was never much of a talker—better to read than try to force conversation.

Hermione, spotting a new book, immediately leaned in to read with him.

As for Ron, he was content playing with Scabbers while munching on snacks.

It wasn’t until the train neared Hogwarts that Harry finally lifted his eyes from the pages.

Arthur caught the disappointment there. No surprise—the books had nothing of substance. Just endless praise of the Boy Who Lived, with only vague descriptions of Voldemort’s dark reign.

And that made sense. Plenty of pure-blood families had thrown in their lot with Voldemort. When he fell, they scrambled to wash their hands of it. No one wanted those stains in print.

Arthur frowned a little. He didn’t remember Harry being so desperate about his parents in the original.

Especially in the films—Harry was practically a "Quidditch seeker machine," zooming off on his Nimbus 2000, caring about nothing and no one.

It was only seeing the warmth between Arthur and Hermione that had stirred Harry’s longing for family. Otherwise, he might still have been basking in the relief of escaping the Dursleys.

Seeing Harry’s downcast look, Arthur finally spoke:

"I do know a little about your mother."

Harry’s head snapped up, eyes shining.

Hermione also looked over quickly. Ever since Arthur had told her the truth about the Sorting Ceremony, she had hung on his every word about the wizarding world.

"I was curious myself, about how you defeated Voldemort. So I asked a pen pal of mine—someone very knowledgeable."

Hermione nodded firmly. In her eyes, that pen pal was indeed learned—after all, he sent Arthur so many rare books.

(Arthur, little did you know... that pen pal is me!)

"He told me that in fact, the one who truly defeated Voldemort was your mother. She used a very ancient protective magic to shield you. That magic rebounded Voldemort’s Killing Curse. That’s why you survived."

"And as long as you live with someone who shares your mother’s blood, your enemies cannot harm you. I think that’s why you had to grow up in the Muggle world."

At this point, Arthur couldn’t help but feel respect for Lily Potter.

As for James... well, he didn’t exactly leave much of an impression.

Back in his previous life, Arthur had actually liked Snape, that tragic figure. If the chance came, maybe he would give Snape a helping hand.

"Thank you, Arthur!" Harry said, his voice trembling with excitement at finally hearing real news of his mother.

Beside him, emotional little Hermione’s eyes were reddened too.

Ron, meanwhile, listened as if it were just another story. With six brothers, he never lacked for love. If anything, he often felt overwhelmed by his twin brothers’... enthusiastic brand of affection.

(Usually in the form of pranks.)

Which made Arthur wonder—why exactly had the Weasleys had so many children? Because Mrs. Weasley had wanted a daughter? If they’d been in his own country, Ron’s name might have literally been "Bring-a-Sister."

"Alright, gentlemen. We’ll be arriving at Hogwarts soon. Time to put your robes on," Arthur reminded them.

Harry and Ron quickly changed, and soon the train screeched to a halt at the station.

Stepping off, the four of them were immediately greeted by Hagrid, lantern in hand. He gave Harry a nod and a friendly wave.

"First years! Over here! Boats this way, hurry along, follow me!"

The first-years trailed after Hagrid down a narrow, overgrown path through the bushes.

Hermione tripped but was steadied by Arthur.

Seeing this, Arthur drew his wand.

"Starlight Spark."

A small glowing orb floated from his wand and hovered at his side, illuminating the path.

"Isn’t it supposed to be Lumos?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Holding the wand out is a nuisance. So I improved it," Arthur said lightly. Tweaking small spells like this was child’s play for him.

The original Lumos cast light only from the wand’s tip. Arthur had combined it with Starlight from Elden Ring, creating a new version. The incantation? Made up on the spot.

"Teach me later," Hermione said. By now, she was used to her cousin’s casual genius.

But Ron and Harry, following behind, were starting to wonder: which one of them was supposed to be the Muggle-born, again?

The path opened onto a lakeside dock. Hagrid ordered the first-years into boats, four to a vessel. As soon as everyone was seated, the boats began to glide forward on their own.

Through the mist, a brightly lit castle loomed across the waters—Hogwarts.

Softly, Arthur explained to Hermione why first-years arrived by boat. It was a tradition, meant to echo the journey of the four founders when they had discovered the site of the school. Each group of four students crossing together symbolized the founding four themselves.

Hermione was awed by the meaning behind the ritual, and even Ron and Harry listened with rapt attention.

Once ashore, they followed Hagrid up the steps to the massive doors, where Professor McGonagall was already waiting.

"Professor McGonagall, here are the first-years," Hagrid said, handing them over before departing.

McGonagall welcomed them briskly, instructed them to line up, and then stepped into the Great Hall to prepare.

The moment she was gone, the first-years began buzzing with chatter.

"Hey, what do you think the Sorting Ceremony will be like? Fred and George told me we’d have to fight a dragon," Ron said.

Hermione burst into laughter—she hadn’t expected her cousin’s example of upperclassmen lying about the Sorting to come true so quickly.

Ron blinked at her laughter, confused.

Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy had come striding over to Harry.

What bad intentions could our resident snob possibly have? None, really. He was just spoiled by pure-blood pride at home. All he wanted was to extend his hand in friendship to the Boy Who Lived.

But then he heard Ron’s muffled snicker nearby.

Feeling mocked, Draco turned and saw the telltale Weasley red hair. Influenced by his father, his disdain for the Weasleys was immediate. His tongue sharpened, and he launched into a tirade at Ron.

What Draco didn’t realize was that Harry already considered his train companions friends. Especially Ron, whose straightforwardness gave Harry the feeling of a destined companion.

So when Draco insulted Ron, Harry instantly bristled. He rejected Draco’s offer without hesitation.

Arthur caught the flash of disbelief, anger, and even a hint of resentment in Draco’s eyes.

He couldn’t help but sigh at the boy’s misfortune. If only Draco had made a better impression earlier...

Thankfully, McGonagall returned just in time, before what could only have become an earth-shaking primary school shouting match.