No, You Want to Blow Up the School?

The lyrics roughly said that sorting only required putting on the hat, and detailed the characteristics of the four houses.

Gryffindor was brave and tenacious, Hufflepuff was just and loyal, Ravenclaw pursued knowledge, and Slytherin was ambitious.

After the song ended, thunderous applause filled the Great Hall.

Harry clapped while watching Ron with a detached, half-smiling expression.

Ron scratched his head awkwardly: "I'm going to kill Fred, he lied to me."

But Charlie's face looked somewhat grim.

From what the Sorting Hat was saying, it could see the hidden thoughts in people's minds.

What if the hat discovered he was a time traveler?

The magical world didn't do dissection research, did it?

[Your Majesty, rest assured. Our Tyrant System's products are always top-notch. That shabby hat can't see through Your Majesty's true identity.]

The system actually said something sensible for once.

Charlie relaxed a little.

Professor McGonagall pulled out a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, put on the hat and sit on the stool."

"Hannah Abbott!"

A little girl with two blonde braids walked out, blushing.

She put on the Sorting Hat tremblingly and sat on the stool.

After a few seconds, the hat shouted: "Hufflepuff!"

The Hufflepuff table erupted in cheers, and Hannah walked over smiling.

"Susan Bones!"

"Hufflepuff!"

"Terry Boot!"

"Ravenclaw!"

The sorting continued.

Charlie noticed that some students were sorted the moment they put on the hat, while others took quite a while.

"Hermione Granger!"

The bushy-haired little witch walked up nervously.

She put on the Sorting Hat and sat on the stool for nearly a minute.

"Gryffindor!"

Hermione walked toward the Gryffindor table with relief.

"Draco Malfoy!"

The platinum-haired boy strutted up arrogantly.

The moment the Sorting Hat touched his hair, it shouted loudly: "Slytherin!"

Malfoy walked toward the Slytherin table with satisfaction, shooting Charlie a vicious glare as he passed.

"Harry Potter!"

When Professor McGonagall read out that name, the entire Great Hall fell silent.

Everyone craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the famous boy.

Harry walked up nervously and put on the hat.

Time passed especially slowly; everyone held their breath waiting for the result.

After nearly two minutes, the Sorting Hat finally spoke: "Gryffindor!"

The Gryffindor table erupted in thunderous applause and cheers.

"We've got Potter! We've got Potter!"

Harry walked excitedly toward the Gryffindor table and sat next to Hermione, who had been sorted into Gryffindor earlier.

The sorting continued.

"Neville Longbottom!"

The round-faced boy walked up trembling.

To Charlie's surprise, Neville was also sorted into Gryffindor.

He didn't exactly look like the courageous type.

"Ron Weasley!"

Ron walked up with a pale face.

The Sorting Hat had barely touched his head when it shouted, "Gryffindor!"

Ron walked toward the Gryffindor table with relief, and the Gryffindor students cheered for him.

Because Charlie's surname, White, starts with W, he was almost at the very end of the list.

"Charlie White!"

Finally, it was his turn.

Charlie took a deep breath and walked toward the Sorting Hat.

Everyone's eyes were fixed on him.

Over at Gryffindor, Harry and Ron watched him nervously.

They both hoped Charlie would be sorted into Gryffindor so they could stay together.

If Charlie knew what they were thinking, he'd definitely switch dorms overnight. Who wanted to hang out with two guys when there were soft, sweet female classmates around?

Over at Slytherin, Malfoy sneered, waiting to see the show.

Charlie put on the Sorting Hat, and it immediately covered his eyes.

A tiny voice whispered in his ear:

"Let me see inside your mind..."

The Sorting Hat's voice echoed in Charlie's mind, carrying an ancient, mysterious tone.

Charlie immediately felt something rummaging through his memories. The sensation was strange but not unpleasant.

"Oh, a clever mind, a thirst for power, and no shortage of courage..."

"Wh... what? Blow up the school?"

The Sorting Hat suddenly let out a puzzled sound.

Charlie was startled and quickly steadied his mind, stopping his stray thoughts.

He'd just been wondering how many Tyrant Points he'd get if he blew up the school.

The moment the thought surfaced, he realized it was dangerous.

What if the Sorting Hat found out he had antisocial tendencies? Would it kick him out of Hogwarts on the spot?

The Sorting Hat continued its inspection, but the thought of blowing up the school had suddenly vanished, replaced by a blank space.

The system had stepped in to cover up that line of thinking.

"A mistake?"

The Sorting Hat pondered in confusion, then delved deeper into Charlie's mind.

What it found was nothing but: slack off, slack off, female classmates, slack off, slack off...

These thoughts were simple and pure, with no aggression whatsoever. Not the kind of person who'd blow up a school.

The Sorting Hat fell into deep thought.

Logically, this kid was smart and ambitious—he should go to Slytherin. But his desire for power wasn't strong; he mostly wanted an easy life.

Brave? He had some, but it wasn't outstanding compared to his other traits.

As for the pursuit of knowledge... this kid's head was full of slacking off and female classmates. Clearly, he had no interest in studying.

That left only one choice.

"Hufflepuff!"

The Sorting Hat announced loudly.

The Hufflepuff table immediately erupted in enthusiastic applause and cheers.

"Awesome, the cutest, most handsome junior is ours."

"His eyes are so dark, they look so mysterious."

The senior girls chattered excitedly, stars shining in their eyes.

They'd noticed him as soon as the new students came in. Potter? Who cared about Potter? The Hufflepuffs didn't. It was this handsome, adorable junior that caught their attention.

Anyone who's dealt with older sisters knows this behavior isn't strange. They weren't into kids.

They just genuinely liked playing with cute, good-looking little boys.

That "playing" included, but wasn't limited to, braiding his hair, putting makeup on him, and dressing him up.

Charlie took off the Sorting Hat, looking a bit surprised at the Hufflepuff table.

To be honest, he'd thought he'd end up in Slytherin or Gryffindor. He hadn't expected Hufflepuff.

But thinking about it, it wasn't bad. Hufflepuffs were gentler, and the senior girls all seemed friendly.

Over at Gryffindor, Harry and Ron watched Charlie with disappointment.

"Too bad Charlie didn't get into Gryffindor," Ron sighed.

"Yeah, but Hufflepuff's not bad either. At least we can still see each other often," Harry comforted him.

Fred and George looked even more disappointed.

"Oh, bloody hell, the Sorting Hat must've gone barmy, sorting our kindred spirit into Hufflepuff."

They didn't mean to look down on Hufflepuff, they just thought Charlie suited Gryffindor better.

Over at Slytherin, Malfoy let out a cold snort.

"Hufflepuff. A weakling's house, as expected."

Charlie stepped down from the podium, nodding at Ron and Harry.

Then he found a seat at the Hufflepuff table and was immediately surrounded by enthusiastic older students.

"Hello, junior. I'm Cedric Diggory, third year."

A handsome boy extended his hand, a warm smile on his face.

"Charlie White. Pleased to meet you."

"I'm Jenny, fourth year. That girl who just got sorted into Hufflepuff is my cousin."

A blonde girl pointed at Hannah Abbott, a few seats away.

"I'm..."

"And I'm..."

The Hufflepuff upperclassmen eagerly introduced themselves, the atmosphere lively and warm.

After the Sorting Ceremony ended, Dumbledore stood up and walked to the front.

The entire Great Hall gradually fell silent.

"Welcome!" Dumbledore spread his arms, his eyes twinkling.

"Welcome to a new term at Hogwarts!"

"Before the feast begins, I have a few words to say."

Everyone watched the legendary headmaster with rapt attention.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

The hall fell into dead silence.

The students exchanged bewildered glances, none of them understanding what the headmaster meant.

Charlie was stunned.

Was this old man communing with immortals?

Wasn't that a technique from Northeast China? Did Britain have its own Northeast too?

But he didn't have time to dwell on it, because the table suddenly filled with mouthwatering food.

Roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, steak, and all kinds of vegetables, puddings, tarts, chocolate cake...

A feast that dazzled the eyes.

Charlie's eyes lit up.

Even though British food was generally a mixed bag, the dishes on the table weren't limited to British cuisine—most were fine French and Italian fare.

Plus, back at the orphanage, he'd rarely had a meal this lavish.

Charlie immediately transformed into a devourer, digging in like mad.

The sensation of tender, juicy meat bursting in his mouth was utterly intoxicating.