Azkaban

Stepping onto the stone steps of Hogwarts and passing through the ancient, exquisite stone corridors, the young wizards were led by Professor McGonagall into a room to wait.

"I thought you would go and tell the teacher."

Ezio spoke to Draco, who was standing in front of him, startling the boy. Draco wasn't a fool; he knew who could be provoked and who couldn't. Reporting to a teacher would certainly be effective. His family was very close with the school's Potions master, Severus Snape, who had connections with his father and was also the Head of Slytherin House. If he spoke up, Snape would definitely stand up for him.

But as for the consequences of snitching, even using his pinky fingernail to think, he knew it was a terrible choice. Although Ezio hadn't actually used the Killing Curse at that moment, whether he used it or not was no longer the issue. The problem was that this guy knew the spell and even dared to use the Killing Curse as a joke with him. He really didn't dare to gamble on whether Ezio had the guts to actually use it.

"I don't know anything, I don't know anything," Draco muttered softly, shaking his head slightly, treating everything that had just happened as a hallucination, a nightmare.

"Don't be nervous, we'll be classmates after all," Ezio said in a friendly tone, which made the hair on the back of Draco's neck stand up.

This guy can't possibly go to Slytherin! Impossible! Only purebloods can go to Slytherin! But... but he... he couldn't possibly be Muggle-born, could he? Countless thoughts flashed through Draco's mind in that instant. After much deliberation, he ruled out the most unlikely option: "Muggle-born."

In the eyes of someone from a traditional wizarding family like Draco, Muggles were almost synonymous with fools. The superiority wizards felt toward Muggles who couldn't use magic was almost etched into their DNA, passed down through generations. He didn't believe for a second that those stupid Muggles could produce such a... crazy monster.

This couldn't be blamed on Draco; it could only be blamed on prejudice and his own lack of experience.

If wizards had read Muggle history books and understood the world outside the magical realm, they certainly wouldn't have PTSD over the name Voldemort. After all, one didn't even need to look at the whole world to gauge Voldemort's level of evil; just comparing him horizontally to Great Britain, the inhumane things Britain had done in the past were truly too numerous to record. If the evil deeds Voldemort committed were compared to those leaders, he would look as pure as a little white flower.

Voldemort slaughtered hundreds of people? Great Britain alone killed a million people in the Irish Famine, not to mention the large-scale genocides of indigenous peoples in North America and Australia. The number of deaths that were under a million was simply too numerous to count.

You could say Britain was incompetent, but you could never say it wasn't evil. Placed in the land of outstanding people that was Great Britain, Voldemort couldn't even stir up a ripple.

It was just that the wizards of the magical world didn't pay attention to these things.

At this moment, Draco, whose palms were sweating with nervousness, didn't even notice the Hogwarts ghosts passing through the room. It wasn't until Professor McGonagall appeared again that he slowly regained his senses.

"Now, form a single line," Professor McGonagall said loudly. "Follow me."

The group of anxious young wizards walked out of the waiting room and arrived at a corner of a magnificent hall. The older students were already seated at four long tables, and Harry, dazzled by the sight, let out a gasp of "Wow."

Just as everyone was lost in their own thoughts, a tattered hat placed on a four-legged stool suddenly split open and began to sing:

You might think I'm not pretty, But don't judge a book by its cover, If you can find a prettier hat than me, I'll eat myself.

The Sorting Hat sang the song he had spent a whole year agonizing over with a rhythmic cadence. After the singing ended, the young wizards below gave him enthusiastic applause.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," Professor McGonagall said, pulling out a long piece of parchment. "Hannah Abbott!"

The little girl with blonde braided pigtails stumbled out of the line, and after a brief pause—

"Hufflepuff!" the Sorting Hat shouted.

"Ezio, aren't you nervous right now?" Harry asked, tilting his head and whispering while clutching his sweaty palms.

"If I were heading to the guillotine, I might think about it a little more."

"Think about what?"

"Think about how many ways I should use to take out all the witnesses."

"That is indeed worth thinking about." Harry rolled his eyes, suddenly feeling less nervous. After all, this only required wearing a hat, not waiting to be beheaded at the guillotine.

Without waiting too long, Professor McGonagall looked up at the line of young wizards.

"Ezio Auditore."

When Ezio, with his black hair and gray eyes, walked to the front, a murmur arose in the previously quiet Great Hall. The girls whispered; among this year's freshmen, Ezio was somewhat eye-catching.

He was nearly half a head taller than the other young wizards. His posture while walking was upright but not stiff, and every step seemed to have been precisely measured, possessing a pleasing and comfortable quality. His handsome profile lacked much expression, presenting the image of a cold, cool guy. This type of boy was quite popular.

For an ordinary assassin, being handsome and eye-catching was a disadvantage, but the assassin profession Ezio belonged to had no such harsh requirements. In the end, it was all about the "perfect stealth" that would never be discovered.

Ezio liked cleanliness, but he wasn't a germaphobe. It wasn't as if he hadn't ambushed people while lurking in mud pits. He calmly picked up the hat, placed it on his head, and narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Hmm..."

The Sorting Hat made a low grumbling sound.

"Truly magical... truly magical... I see your mind is empty, but even the kind Hufflepuff wouldn't be interested in a student with an empty mind."

"If you aren't a natural-born fool, shall we chat?"

"So you don't determine the house by reading memories or anything like that?" Ezio raised an eyebrow slightly. He knew of the Sorting Hat's existence, so he had done quite a bit of preparation.

"Reading memories?" The Sorting Hat sounded offended, his voice growing a bit louder. "I am a hat used to sort students into their suitable houses, not a memory thief who sneaks around to pry into privacy. The four founders of Hogwarts injected a part of their thoughts into me; even Slytherin would disdain to do such peeping."

"I can perceive the traits of your thoughts. This is something that is absolutely impossible to fake on a person. It can be changed, but it cannot be feigned. However, you were able to cleverly hide them, letting me, the old hat, see absolutely nothing."

"I just emptied my mind. You can consider it a form of meditation."

"Oh, yes, meditation. Rowena Ravenclaw loved meditation. Her wisdom brought her too great a burden, and she needed to relieve the pressure by emptying her mind. But this is the first time I've encountered a case like you." The Sorting Hat seemed to understand, speaking slowly. "So, are you also someone troubled by a wise mind?"

"I don't think I am, though I can open up my thoughts a little."

"That is exactly what I want to see. To be honest, I am very curious about you. In these thousand-plus years, I have seen countless young wizards come to Hogwarts, but situations similar to yours are very rare."

"In other words, there have been some?"

"Aha, yes. A hundred years ago, there was a very special fifth-year transfer student at Hogwarts. I almost sorted him into Azkaban at the time. I don't know how to describe his thought traits; I can only say he was a bit too unrestrained."

"That guy must have been a lot of fun, right?"

"Of course! That guy caused quite a stir at Hogwarts. The headmaster at the time was Phineas Nigellus Black, a terrible man, but even a headmaster as awful as him was driven to seclude himself in his office for a long time because of that guy."

The Sorting Hat began to recount some interesting stories from the past.

"Now, it's your turn."

Ezio exited the Assassin's Focus he had been maintaining for so long. This was an instinct honed through countless killings, allowing him to discard distracting thoughts at any moment, maintain peak concentration, react instantly to any surprise, and remain single-minded while multitasking—a contradictory description that blended perfectly within a qualified assassin.

At that very moment, the Sorting Hat, which had been silent for a while, opened its mouth wide—

"Azkaban!!!" the Sorting Hat roared inside Ezio's mind, its voice laced with a hint of madness. "Everyone else's thoughts are filled with visions of the future, but Merlin preserve me! Why is the Grim Reaper in your head kicking a ball made of skulls? And what kind of evil number is 1001135:0?!"

If it had legs, the Sorting Hat would have jumped away at this moment, scrambling to get to Dumbledore's side.

"Could it be because my thoughts are a bit unconventional? Also, what color was the Grim Reaper you saw?"

"Oh, damn it, why are these things so pink and actually kind of cute?" The Sorting Hat's voice suddenly became somewhat uncertain. "I must be seeing things; the style of Azkaban is much scarier than what's in here, and Dementors are just awful. Why does your Grim Reaper look more and more... um... adorable?"

"However, ambition, yes, ambition, along with an unprecedentedly firm will, a thirst for thrilling adventures, a rebellion against rules and constraints, a sharp mind, and a hunger for knowledge. You even possess a touch of gentleness and kindness, though it's a bit sparse. Fine, fine, this old hat owes you an apology; you aren't a bad kid."

The Sorting Hat muttered to itself, but it soon reached a final decision.

"Go to Slytherin; there will be room for you to realize your ambitions there. Of course, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw wouldn't be impossible, but for Hufflepuff, your sense of purpose is a bit too strong."

"Let's go with Slytherin," Ezio said to the Sorting Hat.

"Then—Slytherin!"

The Sorting Hat shouted aloud, and welcoming applause erupted from the crowd below.