Harry Potter!

Harry Potter!

What surprised Harry even more was that this greasy-haired professor, who clearly had no love for cleanliness, seemed to like him even more than Aunt Petunia used to.

Harry was somewhat confused. This...

Could he be another poor soul who had been mocked and bullied by his father?

Harry had long learned from Aunt Petunia that his father, James Potter, had not been a particularly good person!

Thinking of this, Harry could not help casting a sympathetic look at the professor.

Poor guy. Old Potter must have bullied him quite badly back then.

The professor froze when he saw Harry's reaction, clearly not expecting it. Then, as if enraged, he glared at Harry with even greater disgust.

Harry felt rather helpless, but he had no intention of going over to apologize or forgive him.

That was a dispute from the previous generation. It should not be his burden to bear.

He was merely a poor, weak, helpless candidate Supreme Mage.

After giving the greasy-haired professor another gentle smile, Harry ignored him and let him fume on his own.

The other figure who caught Harry's attention was Professor Quirrell, whom he had met at the Leaky Cauldron a month ago.

Noticing Harry's gaze, Professor Quirrell nodded at him kindly. Harry returned a friendly smile.

He had already begun considering when he should behead Professor Quirrell with a single stroke.

Before that, though, he had to prove Professor Quirrell's evil—or avoid everyone else's eyes and clear himself of suspicion.

Harry did not want to make an enemy of the entire Wizarding World over the charge of murdering a professor the moment he started school.

Hermione tugged at Harry's sleeve and pointed at the ceiling.

Above them, the velvety black ceiling glittered with countless stars. That, too, was some kind of magic.

Hermione lifted her head and explained proudly:

"Magic has been cast here. It looks even more dazzling than the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."

Seeing Miss Otter looking as though she wanted praise, Harry laughed and patted her head.

"Just as expected of Hermione. You're amazing. I didn't know that."

When Harry rubbed her little head, Miss Otter's face immediately turned crimson. She forced herself to remain composed.

"Mm... ahem, you're pretty amazing too."

Watching this young witch's shy expression, Harry's smile grew even brighter.

The line of Young Wizards came to a stop. Professor McGonagall stood before them, conjured a four-legged stool with Transfiguration, and placed a battered old wizard's hat on top of it.

The hat was covered in patches, filthy and worn, with a glossy sheen of grease. Both Harry and Hermione found it utterly disgusting.

Professor McGonagall raised a hand slightly, and the Great Hall fell silent.

Then a wide slit opened in the hat, joining with the wrinkles above it to form a strange, almost-human face.

The hat actually began to sing. Its voice was hoarse, like a medieval ballad, but it sounded rather nice.

When the song ended, thunderous applause filled the hall. The hat gave a slight bow. It was surprisingly polite.

By then, every first-year Young Wizard had learned the true process of the Sorting Ceremony from the Sorting Hat's song, and they all began complaining about the relatives who had frightened them.

Ron was especially furious.

"I'm going to kill Fred! He told me we had to fight a Troll!"

Harry felt helpless as well. These wizards had far too twisted a sense of humor. It seemed to be an unspoken tradition for everyone to scare the first-year Young Wizards.

That put Harry at ease. At least Hogwarts would not be splattered with blood.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward a few paces, holding a roll of parchment. Facing the Young Wizards, she said:

"Whoever I call will put on the hat, sit on the stool, and await their sorting. Hannah Abbott!"

A rosy-cheeked Little Witch with two golden braids stepped forward, sat on the four-legged stool, and put on the hat. It completely covered her eyes.

After a moment, the Sorting Hat shouted, "Hufflepuff!"

The Young Wizards at the table on the right clapped and cheered, welcoming her to sit with them.

The Hufflepuff Young Wizards truly were very friendly.

"Susan Bones," Professor McGonagall said immediately afterward.

"Hufflepuff!" Susan quickly ran over to Hannah. The two Little Witches had shared a boat earlier and had already become friends.

"Terry Boot!"

"Ravenclaw!" The second table on the left applauded, though Ravenclaw's applause was more restrained, fitting for those who loved learning.

"Lavender Brown!"

"Gryffindor!" This was Gryffindor's first new student, and the brave lions gave the loudest applause.

Several more Young Wizards were sorted after that, and soon it was Hermione's turn.

"Hermione Granger!" Professor McGonagall called.

Hermione looked extremely nervous. Harry felt a small hand seize his, its palm soaked in cold sweat.

Harry raised his other hand and patted Miss Otter's head again.

"Go on. There's nothing to be nervous about."

Hermione gradually relaxed, nodded slightly at Harry, and put on the filthy Sorting Hat.

"Gryffindor!"

Hermione's sorting surprised Harry. He had thought she would be placed in Ravenclaw, since she was such a studious Little Witch.

Yet she had been sorted into Gryffindor. It seemed this little otter was quite brave as well.

When the name of Neville, who was always losing his toad, was called, the result also surprised Harry.

The hat took a long time to make its decision, but in the end, it still shouted Gryffindor.

That meant that although Neville appeared weak, he did not lack courage.

Harry felt that perhaps he could cultivate Neville into a trusted subordinate. The boy admired him immensely now.

When Malfoy's name was called, the blond Young Wizard strutted forward.

The hat might not even have touched his hair before it loudly shouted:

"Slytherin!"

Malfoy was clearly very pleased with his sorting and went to join his lackeys, Goyle and Crabbe.

Harry was rather envious of this Young Wizard who liked wetting his pants. At least he did not have to get his hair dirtied by that filthy hat.

After Malfoy, there were not many Young Wizards left.

Morn... Nott... Parkinson... then the Patil Twins... Sally-Anne Perks...

At last, it was finally time for...

"Harry Potter!" Even Professor McGonagall's voice sounded slightly excited.

Everyone immediately turned to look at Harry, examining the Boy Who Lived with curiosity.

Countless murmurs wove together, hissing like tiny flames.

"Potter? Is he Harry Potter?" This came from a curious Hufflepuff Young Wizard. He had been trying to see the lightning-shaped scar through Harry's fringe, but he was too far away to make it out clearly.

"Wow, our Harry is so handsome!" This was a third-year Little Witch from Slytherin. In the first stirrings of adolescence, her eyes shone as she continually studied Harry's face.

Nourished by magic, Harry was noticeably taller than the first-year Young Wizards, nearly as tall as a second-year, and he was becoming more handsome by the day, steadily approaching perfection.

How could these innocent Little Witches possibly resist Harry's charm?