The Sorting Ceremony

Hogwarts' Sorting Ceremony took place every year.

Everyone paid close attention to it, since it concerned whether those promising new students would enter their own House.

This year's Sorting Ceremony was especially eye-catching!

The Boy Who Lived, whom the British wizarding world had waited ten years for, had finally stepped into the world of magic, and another Seer surrounded by equally strong legends would also be enrolling this year.

Besides those two, the children of many Pure-blood families who might hold important positions in society in the future would also be starting school this year.

Those with a strong sense of group identity, eager to strengthen their own side, had long been itching to get started.

Draco Malfoy had even tried to show friendliness toward Harry Potter on the train, but unfortunately, Ron Weasley had been by his side, so it had all come to nothing.

Seek out the Seer? Draco had never entertained that thought.

His father had told him to be wary of the Seer.

Though young, Draco, a Pure-blood "aristocrat," also knew that some of his family's businesses were not entirely aboveboard.

If the Seer was the type to turn a blind eye, that would be manageable. But if he was some overly serious "champion of justice," he might bring a heap of trouble upon them instead.

After all, everyone wanted to know other people's secrets without wanting anyone else to know their own.

Information asymmetry was a powerful and terrifying thing!

"Hufflepuff!" Hannah, the first to wear the hat, walked toward the long table amid waves of applause.

Once she took her seat, the applause from the Hufflepuff table, filled with Hufflepuff students, died down. Everyone turned expectant gazes toward the Sorting Hat, waiting for the next young wizard to step forward.

Roger did not recognize many of the young wizards who came up next at all.

The only ones who left an impression on Roger were Harry's trio, Malfoy's trio, and people like Neville, who had quite a few standout moments.

As for everyone else... those who knew, knew.

Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin... the names of different Houses kept cycling from the Sorting Hat's mouth.

The V in Roger Virgil's surname put him among the last batch to be called.

The long wait left Roger so bored that his thoughts began to wander.

One House had students with the spirit of bravery, one was filled with knowledge and wisdom, one had students as kind and generous as fathers, and the last was proud and fond of elegance...

Had they really not borrowed from anything?

"Roger Virgil!" Professor McGonagall raised the parchment and called out his name.

Snapping back to his senses, Roger pulled himself together and walked up to the front.

"Roger? He's that legendary..."

"He's Roger? The Seer?!" The little witch who had just taken her seat at the Gryffindor table recognized the person she had encountered on the train.

"Gryffindor already got Harry Potter. The Seer should be our turn, shouldn't he?" Some Slytherin students chattered endlessly.

"Oh, Merlin bless us, don't let him come to our House. My uncle said he's a dark wizard who isn't happy unless he kills Muggles every day..."

"Your uncle lied to you." The Hufflepuff little witch defended someone she knew.

Discussion surged through the hall below. Roger could not make out most of it, nor did he have any interest in listening.

The Sorting Hat dropped over his head, blocking his vision.

Then a voice sounded.

"You really don't want to go to Slytherin that badly?"

"All right, you don't need to keep saying it. Then where do you want to go... uh."

The Sorting Ceremony always encountered a few unusual children. After all, many wizards in the early days had been odd themselves, and their educational standards had truly left much to be desired. After all these years since the school's founding, the Sorting Hat had grown used to it.

But someone like Roger was still rather difficult for it to handle.

At that moment, Roger was like a broken record, with only one voice in his heart.

Not Slytherin, not Slytherin xN.

Even when it spoke to him, there was no other response.

Hmm, it seemed it would have to use some real skill.

Focusing its attention, the Sorting Hat asked, "All right, though I feel Slytherin suits you best, we can forget it if you don't want to go there. How about Gryffindor?"

"You think you're often cowardly?" The Sorting Hat tried to hear Roger's thoughts about himself beneath his constant repetition.

"No, recklessness isn't courage. You can overcome your fears. You possess true courage."

"What do you mean, never regretting even death a thousand times over? Facing ten million people alone without turning back? Your standards are too high."

"What about Ravenclaw?"

"Not smart enough, always making mistakes?"

"You can face your mistakes and do your best to correct them instead of compounding them or turning a blind eye. That already counts as wisdom."

"If we Sorted by your standards, practically no one would be able to enroll at Hogwarts."

"Hufflepuff... all right, Hufflepuff really doesn't match your personality type."

The Sorting Hat pondered between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor for a moment.

Then it gave its answer.

"...Gryffindor!"

The Sorting Hat's reason for this answer was simple. The root of Roger's wisdom lay in his courage to face everything, along with a desire similar to Slytherin's to become stronger and gain more.

Since he did not want to go to Slytherin, Gryffindor truly suited him better.

And the instant that voice rang out, shrieks and cheers from the Gryffindor table nearly blew the roof off the Great Hall!

The students pulled off their pointed wizard hats and waved them in their hands.

The Boy Who Lived, the Seer—this Sorting Ceremony was a clean sweep for Gryffindor!

Roger looked toward Gryffindor... well, not everyone was so excited. A few students did not really dare look at him.

Just as Professor X was sometimes not particularly welcome among people with secrets.

After Roger took his seat, the students around him immediately crowded over enthusiastically. Having extensive experience commanding troops in battle and leading teams, Roger naturally knew how to deal with people. This was a small matter; he handled it with ease.

Roger noticed that the bespectacled boy with a scar on his forehead, sitting not far away, seemed curious about him, but did not quite dare speak to him.

Only a few people remained after Roger, and the Sorting Ceremony soon ended.

Then came the customary school song and feast. Headmaster Dumbledore gave the same warnings Roger remembered: do not go to the corridor on the right side of the third floor, do not go into the Forbidden Forest, and so on.

As the students chattered while eating the lavish feast and talking about all sorts of things, Roger occasionally looked toward the professors' table.

But he was not looking at Professor McGonagall.

He was watching Professor Quirrell, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and Snape, the Potions class professor.

As far as Roger knew, Snape seemed to be someone whose words were sharp and who disliked gossip and idle chatter.

Yet at that moment, he was frequently whispering with Professor Quirrell beside him.

...Had Snape been watching Quirrell since the start of the school year?

Roger knew that Voldemort resided on the back of Professor Quirrell's head. He just did not know whether Snape was probing him now, or keeping him under surveillance.