"Quiet down, everyone! The first-years are coming!"
Someone among the Prefects shouted, and the Great Hall instantly fell silent. There was probably only one time each year when a Prefect's order was this effective.
Under the watchful eyes of all the older students in the Great Hall, the black oak doors slowly swung open. Professor McGonagall, the deputy headmistress, appeared first, dressed in emerald-green robes. Then a large cloud of pearly white ghosts surged in like mist, quickly spreading across the ceiling of the hall.
Only then did the first-year students file in, walking in neat lines. Most of them looked terribly nervous, their legs heavy as lead, their steps slow and ponderous. As soon as they entered the Great Hall, the first thing they did was look up at the strange ceiling, which reflected the night sky and floated hundreds, even thousands, of candles. They whispered excitedly among themselves, marveling at it or discussing what they saw.
Professor McGonagall walked to the front of the Great Hall and took out the grubby Sorting Hat. Just as she had the year before, she placed it on a tall stool. The professors and older students at the High Table, well-practiced at this, pointed their fingers or wands at their ears and cast spells to block out sound. Then the Sorting Hat began to sing once more:
You may think I'm not a beauty, but don't judge a book by its cover;
If you can find a hat more beautiful than me, I'll eat myself;
You can make your bowlers black and shining, your top hats smooth and smart;
But I'm Hogwarts' Sorting Hat, and I'm far finer than your hats;
Whatever thoughts you're hiding in your heads, the Sorting Hat can see them all;
Put me on and give me a try, and I'll tell you where you ought to belong...
When the song ended, the teachers and students burst into thunderous applause. Then they quietly dispelled the spells on their ears and turned their attention to the first-years' line. After hearing the Sorting Hat's song, the new students seemed much more relaxed. A few of them even looked indignant, probably the sort who had been thoroughly misled by their elders at home.
Professor McGonagall then took out a sheet of parchment and addressed the first-years below in a clear voice. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be Sorted."
"Hannah Abbott!"
The pure-blooded girl, as unyielding as steel, had a rosy face and two blond braids. She stumbled out of the line, put on the hat—which fell over her eyes—and sat down. After a brief pause—
"Hufflepuff!"
The Sorting Hat shouted.
A burst of cheers erupted from the Hufflepuff table. Avada was especially excited, warmly welcoming the girl, who symbolized pure blood, to take a seat.
"Susan Bones!"
"Hufflepuff!"
"Terry Boot!"
"Ravenclaw!"
"Hermione Granger!"
Here it comes.
Avada watched intently as the little girl with bushy brown hair sat down nervously and put on the Sorting Hat. She had been suited to both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. After his slight interference, would history change this time?
"Gryffindor!"
The Gryffindor table erupted in enthusiastic applause, and Avada felt somewhat relieved.
"Neville Longbottom!"
The Sorting Hat hesitated for a long time before shouting, "Gryffindor!"
"Draco Malfoy!"
"Slytherin!"
"Harry Potter!"
A murmur of whispers swept through the Great Hall at the sound of the name. Harry walked forward almost in a daze, looking at the crowd of people in the hall, all craning their necks to get a good look at him. Then the hat's wide brim completely blocked his view, plunging him into darkness and leaving him to wait.
"Hmm,"
The Sorting Hat's voice whispered out of nowhere inside his head. "Difficult. Very difficult. I can see you're brave. You're not a bad person, either. You have talent—oh, my goodness, yes—you're eager to prove yourself. Very interesting... I think Slytherin could help you on the road to greatness. You could become someone important..."
Slytherin?
Harry remembered Hagrid's warning from that day, as well as Draco Malfoy's expression after being Sorted into Slytherin a moment ago. But then he thought of the gentle, courteous way Baron Shafiq had acted beside K. Perhaps Slytherin wasn't so unpleasant after all?
No. It's probably best not to go to Slytherin.
In the end, Hagrid's warning and his recent impression of Slytherin won out in his mind.
"Not Slytherin?" the Sorting Hat asked softly. "Are you sure? You know, Slytherin would help you on the road to greatness. No doubt about that... You don't want it? All right, then. Since you've made up your mind—better be Gryffindor!"
"Gryffindor!"
The loudest cheers and applause erupted from the Gryffindor table, nearly making Harry jump. Gryffindor Prefect Percy Weasley leaped to his feet, thrilled, and shook Harry's hand as soon as he reached the table. In the middle of it all, someone shouted, "We've got Potter! We've got Potter!"...
Finally, after Ron Weasley was Sorted into Gryffindor, this year's Sorting Ceremony came to an end.
Everything's stayed the same.
Avada sighed in relief, then turned to glance at Professor Quirrell, who was wearing a massive turban and looked somewhat nervous. His gaze gradually grew determined.
In that case, there's even less reason to fail!
After Professor McGonagall rolled up the parchment and left with the Sorting Hat, she returned empty-handed and took her seat at the High Table. Albus Dumbledore stood up. Smiling warmly at the students, he spread his arms to them, seeming unable to imagine anything more delightful than seeing them all gathered together.
"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our feast, I'd like to say a few words. And they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
Avada silently rolled his eyes.
"Thank you!"
Dumbledore sat down with a chuckle and waved his hand. "Let the feast begin!"
The next moment, just as they had the previous year, a dazzling array of food appeared on the empty plates along the tables. For some reason, a small dish of peppermint hard candies had also appeared in front of everyone.
The students, who had been waiting for ages and were ravenous, immediately dug into the food before them. As they ate, they chatted with the people beside them and the new students who had just arrived.
"Truman, I heard you became a Prefect. Congratulations!"
"Thank you, thank you. You're doing well yourself, Cedric. You came first in your year last term... By the way, you're in your third year now, right? What classes did you choose?"
"Me? Fantastic Beasts, Muggle Studies, Ancient Runes, and Divination."
"Four classes? That's eleven in total with the required ones. That's a lot of pressure!"
"That's nothing. Don't forget Percy from Gryffindor has twelve classes... Who knows how he managed to get through them?"
Avada glanced at Cedric. What a pity—Cedric hadn't taken every class, so Avada couldn't get an early look at the Time-Turner.
Speaking of which, Percy should have used the Time-Turner often last year, but Avada had never sensed the slightest trace of magic related to time. That had always puzzled him. Was time actually part of magic? Its sibling, "space," was perfectly clear to his Magic Sense.
But if time wasn't magic, how had the Time-Turner been made?
He shook his head and stopped thinking about it. He already had more than enough to do this year.
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