Dumbledore: "Why is my back so itchy?"

"He... he... he... how did he actually get into Slytherin!"

Upon hearing the Sorting Hat shout "Slytherin," Draco, still standing in the crowd, felt his legs go weak. The mere thought of having to share a common room with this guy for the next seven years made his skin crawl.

Sharing similar sentiments was... Severus Snape, who sat at the staff table, glaring at Ezio's back with a gaze so gloomy it could drip water.

"You finally made it to Slytherin!"

Snape chewed on these words through gritted teeth. He wasn't the least bit surprised that Ezio had been sorted into Slytherin. Beside him, Professor Flitwick's tuft of hair stood on end as he turned his head in confusion and asked, "Severus, what are you muttering about?"

"I am quite well," Snape replied in a low voice, his lips barely moving.

Suddenly, his pupils constricted. Ezio, who was about to reach the Slytherin table, turned his head as if he had known all along that Snape was watching him. In that instant, Snape felt as though a venomous snake had slithered across his instep. A bizarre sensation arose, as if some leverage he held had been seized by this fellow, though he racked his brains and couldn't fathom what kind of dirt this guy could possibly have on him.

"You'll get what's coming to you, boy!"

Snape looked away, and Ezio sat down at the edge of the crowd amidst the welcome of the older Slytherin students, deftly avoiding the invitations of an enthusiastic senior girl—not because Ezio was ascetic, but simply because she wasn't attractive.

One name after another was called, and the sorting ceremony proceeded smoothly. Before long, Draco Malfoy's name was called out. The hat shouted "Slytherin" the moment it touched his head, yet Draco looked rather listless as he took it off; had it not been for Ezio, he would have been overjoyed.

With his head slightly bowed and keeping a low profile, Draco shuffled to the Slytherin section and picked a seat as far from Ezio as possible. A girl with lion-like hair tried to pull him to sit with her, but Draco rejected her coldly because it was a bit too close to Ezio.

There were few young wizards left to be sorted. When Professor McGonagall loudly announced, "Harry Potter," a buzz of whispers erupted throughout the Great Hall. Even at the Slytherin table, many were leaning in to whisper, "Potter? Is that the Potter? Merlin above! It really is him!"

Harry, the focus of everyone's gaze, began to feel nervous again. He sat on the stool with trepidation, and only when his vision was obscured by the brim of the hat and everything turned dark did he breathe a slight sigh of relief.

"Difficult, very difficult," the old hat's voice muttered in Harry's mind. "But compared to that fellow from earlier, you are much easier to judge. I can see you have great courage, a good heart, and talent, and... oh! You also have a strong desire to achieve a certain goal. You may be in a hurry, but I hope you won't be too impatient; haste only leads to more mistakes."

"So now... where should I put you?"

"Slytherin?" the old hat muttered. "Slytherin could help you on the path to greatness, though, Gryffindor could also..."

"Let it be Slytherin," Harry said decisively.

"It seems you have already made up your mind," the Sorting Hat said softly. "But why is that?"

"You said Slytherin could help me achieve greatness, and there is indeed something I am desperate to accomplish."

"In that case—Slytherin!"

The Sorting Hat shouted the house Harry would be joining. At that very moment, Dumbledore's expression stiffened slightly; his eyes widened, and a flicker of suspicion crossed his gaze.

But compared to Dumbledore, Snape, sitting in the seat behind him, could barely control his facial expressions. His face twitched as he struggled to suppress a laugh; if he weren't in the Great Hall, he would have roared with laughter! Hahahaha!

Professor Flitwick, sitting nearby, thought Snape was having a seizure and quickly asked in a low voice, "Severus, are you alright?"

"I..." Snape pinched his thigh, recalling the second most painful event of his life a few times to steady his mood, then slowly replied, "I'm fine, just an old wound acting up."

He clutched his arm, though his sleeve remained dry, with no blood seeping through.

"I didn't even know you were injured. Is it serious? Should I have Poppy check it for you?" (Poppy was Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse at Hogwarts, full name Poppy Pomfrey.)

"A minor accident, perhaps I didn't treat it properly before."

Snape regained his usual composure and spoke simply, declining Professor Flitwick's suggestion. However, his gaze never wavered, tracking Harry's every move. When he saw Harry sit down next to Ezio with a smile, he truly felt as if his wound had split open again.

Dumbledore! Look at the mess you've made!

Being stared at by Snape with a murderous gaze, Dumbledore couldn't help but shift in his seat. He felt an itch on his back, as if someone were sticking needles into a voodoo doll of him.

After a moment, an atmosphere of "disbelief" spread through the hall. Aside from the cheering Slytherins, students from the other three houses were stunned by what they had just witnessed.

How could the savior of the English wizarding world, the boy who defeated the Dark Lord, be sorted into the notorious cesspit of dark wizards—Slytherin?

Merlin's pink lace-trimmed thong!

Everything just now must have been a hallucination, right? A hallucination!

Even if they racked their brains, they couldn't imagine how Harry Potter could possibly have anything to do with Slytherin. This was not magic!

Perhaps... the only thing that can shatter the darkness is something even darker than the darkness itself?

A rumor to this effect began to spread from an unknown source, then started to circulate wildly. School students, after all, were mostly a group of people who believed whatever they heard and lacked any filter. Their excessive energy meant that inexplicable thoughts were always popping into their heads, and the terrifying part was that they were prone to taking their own delusions as truth.

When the last boy, named Blaise Zabini, was sorted into Slytherin, Professor McGonagall took the Sorting Hat and left. Dumbledore rose at this moment, and the noisy hall immediately fell silent.

"Welcome," Dumbledore's calm voice reached everyone's ears. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

"Thank you all!"

Amidst the applause of a group of bewildered young wizards, Dumbledore ended his speech. Suddenly, the empty plates on the long tables were filled with all sorts of food. The crisp sound of knives and forks clashing mingled with the chatter of the crowd, and the hall became lively once again.

At the Slytherin table, people's eyes would glance toward Harry from time to time, but he didn't care, chatting happily with Ezio beside him.

"The Sorting Hat said Slytherin could help me achieve greatness. Ezio, do you think that's true?"

"Where you go doesn't really matter," Ezio said, elegantly cutting a thick piece of steak. Compared to the young wizards from so-called "noble" wizarding families beside him, he looked more like a true aristocrat. "Going to Ravenclaw won't necessarily make you smarter, and coming to Slytherin won't necessarily make you stronger."

"The house only provides us with a platform; what we eventually become depends solely on our own efforts."

"However, compared to other houses, Slytherin does have one small advantage."

Ezio swallowed the last piece of beef on his plate, turned to look at Harry, and said, "Slytherin values strength above all. Here, you can display your talents without restraint and climb to the top by stepping on everyone else."

"It's just that..." Ezio scanned the room, meeting the gazes cast toward him or Harry, and said clearly, "The current Slytherin has far too much waste and trash. The stench is nauseating."

"If Salazar Slytherin knew the current state of his house, he would probably be so angry he'd round all these people up and use them as experimental materials."

His chilling words caused many to lower their heads in silence. Ezio's overly sharp gaze carried an invisible deterrent, though not everyone looked away.

Just as Ezio had said, Slytherin, filled with so-called pure-blood wizards, was truly getting worse with each passing year.