The Sorting continued.
"Susan Bones!"
"Hufflepuff!"
When it was Hermione's turn, Yulian saw her nearly run up to the stool. Once she sat down, she was so nervous that her whole body stiffened. The Sorting Hat shook its head back and forth on her head for a long time before finally shouting:
"Gryffindor!"
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, her face lighting up with a brilliant smile. She ran toward the Gryffindor table, not forgetting to turn around and look for Yulian. When their eyes met, Yulian gave her a thumbs-up.
"Lyria!"
Even over her school robes, Lyria wore a shabby burlap cloak. Her unusual outfit stood out starkly from the other students in the hall.
The moment the Sorting Hat touched Lyria's hair, it immediately shouted:
"Hufflepuff!"
Yulian thought, Thank goodness she went to the friendly Hufflepuff. She'd probably have trouble getting along with people in the other houses.
Lyria walked toward the Hufflepuff table, still carrying herself with an aloof air, but her steps seemed a little lighter.
"Elizabeth Rosier!"
As expected, Rosier's name once again stirred whispers among the young wizards and the teachers. Forty or fifty years ago, the name Rosier had been famous throughout Europe. They had been loyal followers of Grindelwald, the first Dark Lord.
What was a Rosier doing at Hogwarts? Weren't they at odds with Dumbledore?
Rosier paid no attention to the commotion around her. She walked forward slowly, elegant and composed.
The Sorting Hat remained silent on her head for a long time, so long that whispers began to ripple through the Slytherin table. At last, it announced, "Slytherin!"
Rosier gave a slight nod and walked toward the Slytherin table, her back straight and her steps sure, as if the result had been inevitable. The Slytherins greeted her with the warmest applause they had given anyone so far.
Yulian kept his eyes on Elizabeth until, as she sat down, her gaze briefly met Rosier's. A complicated emotion flashed in the latter's eyes, then she lowered them.
The rest of the Sorting went without a hitch. Harry, Ron, and Neville all went to Gryffindor. Malfoy and his lackeys went to Slytherin.
Harry Potter's Sorting, in particular, was greeted with the loudest applause and cheers.
The Sorting was over. Dumbledore seemed pleased with the results. He stood and spread his arms. "Let the feast begin!"
At his words, the empty plates were instantly piled high with food. Though Yulian had already been introduced to the cuisine of a great Eastern nation in his previous life, he had to admit that Hogwarts' start-of-term feast made for an excellent buffet.
Of course, the feast wasn't just about eating. It was also an important chance for the young wizards to meet and talk with one another. For the Pure-blood students in particular, it was a place to exchange news and information.
As Ron dual-wielded chicken legs and switched to his berserker stance, rough profiles of several unfamiliar young wizards had already spread among the tables.
"Tch, I wondered who she was. Turns out she's a mud—connected to the Evans family..." Malfoy said disdainfully, glancing sideways at Yulian at the neighboring table.
"Malfoy!" Gemma Farley cut off the last word. "Watch your language in public. You can't say that word aloud, even if you're thinking it—especially not where the Head of House can hear you!"
Malfoy looked a little embarrassed and nodded. "All right. I'll be careful."
Rosier looked at Gemma thoughtfully. As a newcomer, she was testing Hogwarts' boundaries for herself, too.
Marcus had clearly known Malfoy for a long time. He switched places with Goyle, sat down beside Malfoy, and patted him on the shoulder. "It's all right, Draco! Gemma meant well. By the way, how's your uncle doing? He mentioned last time that you liked Quidditch..."
"Of course. I'll practice with you. Let's see how well you can fly."
"Really? That's great! In that case, our school's Quidditch equipment isn't as good as your family's. It might hold you back."
"Of course, first-years aren't allowed to bring their own brooms to school. We have to follow the rules! But Slytherin's equipment really does need an upgrade, just as you said."
"You're right about all of that, but the Head of House has his difficulties, too."
"That would be perfect. I'll also try to get the Head of House's approval. In the meantime, thank your uncle for me."
No wonder that seemingly crude gorilla had become Slytherin's boys' prefect. Compared to him, Draco was still just a child who only knew how to pick fights. — Elizabeth Rosier
"Hi, Eliza! Can I call you Eliza?" A friendly greeting reached Rosier while she was still observing the activity at the table.
Rosier turned. She hadn't noticed when Gemma had taken the seat to her left.
Rosier stopped eating, set down her utensils, and nodded back elegantly. "Of course. My friends all call me that." She put extra emphasis on the word "friends."
"Hello, Lyria! Is Lyria what you go by?"
A tall, handsome boy appeared in front of Lyria. He was the same handsome boy she'd seen on the platform aboard the train.
"I'm Cedric Diggory. Welcome to Hufflepuff. I'm sure you won't regret your choice."
"Hello. I'm from the far north of Norway. My official name is Liria Sigurddóttir. But we usually just use our first names. Sigurd is my father's name. Dóttir means daughter."
"All right, Lyria. Welcome again. Here's a secret: if you see something on the table that you like and want more of, I can get it for you from the kitchens. That's one of Hufflepuff's advantages. Haha."
"Thank you." Lyria liked the friendly prefect very much. Of course, if he'd looked like Marcus, she'd probably have been put off.
"By the way, it seems like you're closer to Durmstrang." Cedric seemed to say it offhandedly.
"Hmph. I'd never go to that dark wizard's den." Lyria's reaction seemed stronger than Cedric had expected. "Our tribe made an agreement with Headmaster Dumbledore."
"Exactly. Hogwarts is the best magic school in all of Europe. Let me introduce you to the other students..." Cedric seemed to understand something and nodded to himself.
There were quite a few young wizards in Gryffindor this year, nearly as many as in Hufflepuff, the house with the largest population.
Ron: "Lucky!"
Just as Ron picked up the last chicken leg, all the food on the table vanished. Desserts appeared in its place.
Hermione glanced at Ron's table manners with distaste, then looked toward Ravenclaw. Yulian was talking animatedly, making the flaxen-haired upper-year girl and several other girls around her laugh so hard they were doubled over. Hermione couldn't help muttering a curse under her breath.
During the Sorting, she had hesitated for ages between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. When she'd decided on Ravenclaw, the Sorting Hat had called Gryffindor instead.
"Percy, who's that sitting next to Professor Quirrell?" Harry felt as though the man had shot him a malicious glance. His scar throbbed with pain.
"Oh, that's the Head of Slytherin House, Professor Snape."
"He looks like a bat," Ron interjected.
Hermione shook her head helplessly once more, then turned her gaze elsewhere.
At the center of the High Table, Dumbledore added another spoonful of sugar to his honeyed lemon water and murmured to himself, "A triangle is the most stable shape. I hope I made the right choice this time."
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