Harry Potter: The Beast Wizard

The Great Hall had calmed—somewhat.

Plates emptied, goblets drained, and the firelight danced low across the enchanted ceiling, now a blanket of stars that mirrored the real night sky outside.

After the chaos of Inosuke's battle with the Sorting Hat, the rest of the evening had proceeded surprisingly smoothly—if one ignored the lingering pudding splatters along the Slytherin table and the faint wheezing coming from the Sorting Hat, now resting lopsidedly beside Professor McGonagall.

At the high table, Albus Dumbledore slowly stood, his long silver beard catching the candlelight like starlight made silk. The hall fell into a hush.

"Welcome!" he began, voice warm and theatrical, with a twinkle in his eye. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I have a few words to say. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

Inosuke leaned over to Hermione and whispered, "What battle cry was that?"

Hermione sighed. "It wasn't a battle cry. It was… I don't know."

Dumbledore continued with a faint smile. "And now, a few important notices: First-years should know that the Forbidden Forest is exactly that—forbidden. It is home to things that are best left undisturbed. Anyone found inside will face severe consequences… assuming they make it out at all."

Inosuke perked up slightly. "Forbidden place… full of monsters…"

Hermione immediately elbowed him. "No."

Dumbledore went on, "Mr. Filch, our caretaker, would also like me to remind everyone that magic is not permitted in the corridors between classes—nor is wrestling the suits of armor, challenging the staircases to duels, or attempting to tame the ghosts."

Inosuke raised his hand.

Dumbledore looked amused. "Yes, Mr. Hashibira?"

"Is it allowed to punch ghosts if they insult your muscles?"

A ripple of laughter spread through the hall.

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "No, Mr. Hashibira. Ghosts are to be respected, regardless of their commentary on physical conditioning."

"And finally," Dumbledore said, his voice deepening, "the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is strictly off-limits to anyone who does not wish to die a most painful death."

A chill settled over the room.

Inosuke's eyes narrowed behind the boar mask.

"…Sounds like a challenge."

"Not a challenge," Hermione hissed. "A warning."

"Same thing."

Dumbledore smiled, his gaze briefly passing over the first-years. "Now, let us eat!"

With a clap of his hands, golden plates filled with food, and the feast began.

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Later, after bellies were full and yawns contagious, Dumbledore stood once more. "Now, my dear students, it is time to rest. Off you go to your dormitories. Get plenty of sleep. Your Hogwarts adventure begins in earnest tomorrow."

The Gryffindor prefects rose, ushering the first-years from the hall. Percy Weasley took charge with rigid authority.

"Come along, first-years! Gryffindor Tower is this way—no dawdling, no pushing, and absolutely no jumping onto moving staircases!"

Inosuke trailed behind with a turkey leg still clutched in one hand, his chest still bare, his iron rods clanking with every step.

Just as the group neared the doors, Dumbledore's voice rose gently once again.

"Inosuke… might I ask you to stay behind a moment?"

Hermione turned, concerned. "He's not in trouble, is he?"

"No, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said kindly. "Just a special matter. Run along."

Hermione looked unsure but followed the others out.

Inosuke stared at the Headmaster. "Is this the part where you challenge me to a duel, old man?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "No duels today. Come. Walk with me."

____________________________________

They exited through a side corridor, away from the echoing clatter of footsteps and chatter. The castle was quieter now, lit only by flickering torches and moonlight streaming through tall windows.

"You were raised in the mountains, were you not?" Dumbledore asked gently. "Far from civilization?"

Inosuke nodded. "Raised by boars. Then I fought warriors. Then I fought demons. Then I punched my way into this weird castle."

"An unorthodox résumé," Dumbledore said with a wry smile. "You speak surprisingly well, considering your background. However, the staff has reviewed your records… and we've found something concerning."

Inosuke's eyes narrowed. "Go on."

"You cannot read or write. Nor do you have any experience with wands, quills, magical theory, or structured education."

Inosuke shrugged. "Books are for nerds."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said mildly. "And yet, here you are—enrolled at the most academically rigorous magical school in Britain."

"I came to fight strong things."

"Magic is not always strength, Mr. Hashibira. Sometimes it is restraint, creativity, even intellect."

"I can learn those if I punch them hard enough."

Dumbledore paused beside a narrow stone balcony. The courtyard below was swaying in the breeze, hedges casting soft shadows.

"You are unlike any student Hogwarts has seen in centuries," he said. "Your spirit, your courage—they are undeniable. But to survive here, and thrive, you must adapt. That means learning. Reading. Writing. Spellwork."

Inosuke folded his arms. "...I don't like any of those things."

"I suspected as much," Dumbledore said. "Which is why I've arranged for you to receive private tutoring. You will not be alone. You'll learn to read, write, and master the foundations of magic, as all great wizards must."

"Only if it doesn't interrupt my training."

"Of course," Dumbledore said graciously. "Though you may find the wand offers a different kind of strength than your... Rods."

Inosuke huffed. "Fine. But I get to punch ghosts if they insult me."

"No fighting ghosts," Dumbledore said, though a corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.

"Unless they start it?"

"…We'll revisit that policy later."

They turned back toward the staircase.

Dumbledore's voice grew quieter, but somehow even more serious. "This castle is old, Inosuke. Full of wonders. Full of dangers. Some of them are best left alone—especially the third-floor corridor. Promise me you'll stay away from it."

Inosuke considered that.

"…Can't promise. I'm curious now."

Dumbledore gave a soft sigh.

"I thought you might be."

He smiled again, eyes twinkling with mystery.

"Goodnight, Mr. Hashibira. Sleep well. Tomorrow, your true challenge begins—not with swords or strength, but with parchment and spellwork."

Inosuke groaned.

"This is worse than demons."

And with that, the boar-headed boy stomped toward the Gryffindor dormitory, still shirtless, still wild, and still entirely unready for the most magical education in the world.

But perhaps… the world wasn't ready for him either.