Leading Ravenclaw to Glory

??!

After a moment of stunned silence, the Great Hall erupted into deafening uproar.

"Azkaban? Did I hear that right, the Sorting Hat said Azkaban?!"

"How—how is that possible?! What was that new student thinking..."

"No way, stealing the spotlight like that, does he have a death wish?!"

The Weasley Twins looked on with envy.

Being sorted into Azkaban by the Sorting Hat—that was an unprecedented "feat"!

They had no idea how Ethan had pulled it off.

Looking so quiet and well-behaved, and then he goes and pulls off something huge without a word!

He instantly became the center of attention.

Damn it! Why hadn't they thought of that prank back then?

They'd still been too conservative.

On the stage.

Professor McGonagall was completely dumbfounded.

Even if a hundred trolls came charging into the hall right now, it wouldn't have shocked her more.

She instinctively grabbed the Sorting Hat, like a broken old appliance, and gave it a firm shake.

Sorting Hat: Stop shaking, I'll confess, alright?

Professor McGonagall was baffled.

How could a polite child like Ethan be sorted into Azkaban?

"Alright, Professor McGonagall, give it to me."

Dumbledore's appearance saved the nearly suffocated hat in time.

"It seems our new student has played a little joke on us."

Dumbledore smiled.

He looked down, meeting Ethan's innocent blue eyes.

"Mr. Vincent, could you tell me what you were thinking just now?"

Ethan blinked. "I was just sharing my grand ambitions."

Dumbledore: "Hmm, I'll be happy to hear the details later. But for now, let's focus on sorting you based on your personal qualities."

"After all, I can't very well send a newly enrolled child straight into the hands of the Dementors, can I?"

Hearing this, Ethan narrowed his eyes.

Threatening him?

He hadn't expected this white-bearded old man to play the threat card...

But Ethan didn't suddenly leap up and slap the old geezer twice to show who was Master of Hogwarts.

Nor did he have that "Damn it, thirty years east, thirty years west, don't bully a youth in poverty" son-in-law mentality.

He just said "Oh," and put the hat back on.

...Ethan really hadn't meant to.

How was he supposed to know this crappy hat had no ambition at all?

Just two impassioned lines, and it screamed like a damsel in distress from an action movie.

Ethan sighed.

Clearly, you couldn't expect a hat to have any profound ideals, could you?

[Actually, child. Though I'm just a hat, I am the hat left by the four founders, the condensation of their thoughts.]

The Sorting Hat's voice rang in his mind.

[Alright, fine. In my opinion, you should go straight to Azkaban and skip the middle steps—but since the Headmaster insists, I'll take another look at what's in your head.]

Ethan cleared his throat and said primly, "I think I'm suited for Hufflepuff."

[Hmm... I have to say, you're quite clever and very ambitious. How about Slytherin?]

Ethan: "I want Hufflepuff."

[Maybe in Gryffindor, you could make like-minded friends, which would help you stay on the right path.]

"? Didn't you hear me? I said, I'm suited for Huf."

[However, your thirst for knowledge and art is even stronger. I know where to put you—Ravenclaw!]

The last word was shouted loudly, echoing through the entire Great Hall.

Ethan: "..."

This wretched hat.

He yanked off the hat in a huff, glancing toward the blue-toned table in the hall.

After a long stretch of silence, sparse applause finally trickled from the table.

Clearly, they weren't sure whether a "soon-to-be Azkaban inmate" joining Ravenclaw was something worth clapping for.

"Don't worry," Ethan said with a smile, his voice clear. "I'll lead Ravenclaw to glory."

He remembered that in the original story, Ravenclaw was never once mentioned winning the House Cup.

"..."

The applause grew even quieter.

Among the students, Ron whispered to the person next to him, "I knew he'd go to Ravenclaw! His spells are amazing!"

At the Gryffindor table, Harry felt a mix of emotions upon hearing that Ethan hadn't been sorted into his house.

He wasn't sure if it was regret or relief.

"Full of spirit."

Dumbledore smiled.

"I hope you find the knowledge you seek in Ravenclaw."

Ethan nodded, stepped down from the podium, and walked toward the Ravenclaw table.

Strangely enough, as he approached the table, he felt a sense of belonging.

As if he was meant to be here, in this sanctuary of knowledge above all else.

After sitting down, Ethan casually glanced at the staff table.

He happened to meet Professor Snape's gaze.

The latter was listening to Professor Quirrell beside him.

When he saw Ethan, his eyes narrowed dangerously, and a malicious smirk curled at the corner of his mouth.

...Like a spiteful mother-in-law finally catching her daughter-in-law in the wrong.

Mm, Malfoy must have tattled, and he's thinking of ways to mess with me, Ethan thought.

Though Professor Snape hadn't dragged him to the office for an "interrogation" yet, he was definitely cooking up something big.

Waiting for the right moment to land a heavy blow.

"Looks like, after two months, the 'Lily Effect' is fading fast..."

"I need to re-imprint it."

Ethan murmured, a sly grin curling at the corner of his mouth.

Nearby, Michael Corner, a first-year also sorted into Ravenclaw, saw Ethan's smile and shuddered.

He silently closed his mouth, abandoning any thought of greeting him.

Ethan is terrifying!

Eep!

As for Quirrell beside Snape, Ethan only gave him a cursory glance.

That was Harry's experience pack. As long as Quirrell didn't get in his way, Ethan had no reason to steal it.

None of my business.

Ethan withdrew his gaze, lowered his head, and traced the gilded patterns on the plate with his finger.

These patterns hid traces of spells, mentioned in the textbooks.

Cleaning charms and the like, to quickly clean the plates after the young wizards finished eating.

Finally, as the last student entered Slytherin, Headmaster Dumbledore stepped up to the podium.

He spread his arms, his eyes sparkling behind his half-moon spectacles, brimming with vitality and energy that belied his age.

This was the greatest White Wizard of the century—Albus Dumbledore!

"Welcome, welcome to Hogwarts."

"Every time I see the lively faces of young wizards, I feel younger myself."

Dumbledore winked playfully.

"Before the feast begins, I have something to say—"

"Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

"Thank you."

This brief speech immediately drew applause from all the students.

Then, in an instant, the tables were laden with a lavish feast!

Sizzling, grease-dripping roast chicken legs, roast beef, roast pork chops and lamb chops, plump pink sausages, and every kind of potato—fries piled straight into a small mountain.

Fragrant, steaming cream stew, tomato-braised eggs, buttered peas, cream of mushroom soup, pumpkin juice, platter after platter of rich meat gravy and slow-simmered tomato sauce.

There were even mint hard candies, crystal clear.

And, courtesy of some senior who must have ordered them, the table also held glistening, translucent—

—Too fragrant!

Ethan soon lost himself in the ocean of food.

If there was one thing to say, coming to Hogwarts besides gaining knowledge, another major perk was that meals were served until you were full.

Ethan straightened his back, chewed with his mouth closed, maintaining a proper dining posture, yet his hands never stopped sending food in.

To an outsider, it looked as though the food in front of Ethan was vanishing mysteriously.

"Ah..."

A faint, ethereal sigh drifted down from above, cold as frost.

Ethan looked up and caught sight of a wispy, pale-blue figure gliding away.

—The Grey Lady, the ghost of Ravenclaw.