He's the Savior?!

Inside the compartment, the four of them had talked quite a bit about the Sorting Ceremony.

As the sky gradually darkened, a range of mountains and forests appeared beneath the deep purple sky.

The train seemed to slow down.

"The train will be arriving at Hogwarts in five minutes. Please leave your luggage on the train; we'll have it delivered to the school for you." The voice echoed through the train.

"Oh, we should change into our robes!"

After changing into their robes, Harry's stomach churned with nervousness. He stuffed the remaining sweets into his pocket and followed the crowd flowing forward down the corridor.

Damon stepped off the train. The night chill refreshed him, and an excited smile spread across his face, making the young witches secretly watching him tremble at heart.

A lamp swayed above the students' heads, and a booming voice shouted:

"First years! First years over here! Harry, come this way, how are you?"

"Oh, Hagrid!" Harry looked at the giant's bearded face, happily leading his friends forward, not noticing Damon beside him staring wide-eyed.

"Come on, follow me. Any more first years? Mind your feet, there we go! First years, follow me!"

"Turn this corner, and you'll get your first sight of Hogwarts," Hagrid called back, followed by a loud "Ooh!"

At the end of the narrow path suddenly opened a vast black lake. On the far shore, atop a high hill, stood a majestic castle, its towers bristling with spires, windows glittering under the starry sky.

"No more than four to a boat!" Hagrid shouted, pointing to a fleet of small boats moored by the shore.

Damon stepped onto a boat with keen interest, watching the ripples spread across the Black Lake's surface as the other three followed him aboard.

They crossed the Black Lake, approached the cliff, passed through a curtain of ivy covering the cliff face, traveled along a tunnel to an underground dock, and finally climbed onto a patch of gravel and pebbles.

Hagrid raised a massive fist and knocked three times on the castle gate.

The gate swung open instantly. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood before the entrance. Her expression was stern, but it softened slightly when she spotted Damon among the crowd.

"I am Professor McGonagall. Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Now, form a single file and follow me."

Damon stood in the line, passing through a double door into the magnificent Great Hall. He ignored the older students already seated at the four house tables, instead leisurely admiring the thousands of candles floating in the air and the velvety black ceiling—studded with twinkling stars.

While Damon took in these wondrous sights, most eyes in the hall turned toward him, including those from the center of the staff table, where Albus Dumbledore sat in a large golden chair.

The much-anticipated Sorting Ceremony had begun.

Professor McGonagall placed a four-legged stool lightly before the first years, then set a pointed wizard's hat on it—patched, worn, and very dirty.

"So this is the Sorting Hat?"

Damon looked at the grimy Sorting Hat, wondering if he should give it a good wash someday. The hat seemed to sense his thoughts, wriggled, and began to sing.

"You might think I'm not much to see, But don't judge by my looks, I plea.

If you can find a hat more fair, I'll eat myself up, I swear.

Come put me on!

Don't be afraid!

No need to be dismayed!

In my hands (though I have not a single one)

You're safe, for I'm a thinking hat, well done!"

After the hat finished singing, Damon was the first to applaud, even shouting "Bravo!" Harry looked at him with a strange expression—Damon, who had been so calm on the train, now seemed as giddy as if he'd had too much to drink, his mood alarmingly high.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward, holding a roll of parchment:

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted."

"Hannah Abbott!"

A rosy-cheeked girl with two blonde braids stumbled out of the line, put on the hat, which covered her eyes.

She sat down.

After a brief pause, "Hufflepuff!" the hat shouted.

The table on the right applauded and cheered for Hannah, welcoming her to their table.

"Susan Bones!" "Hufflepuff!" the hat called again.

The Sorting Hat's decisions were sometimes quick, sometimes slow, and soon it was the turn of Damon's acquaintance.

"Hermione Granger!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool, hurriedly cramming the hat onto her head.

"Gryffindor!" the hat shouted.

Then—"Harry Potter!"

As Harry stepped forward, a low buzzing murmur rippled through the Great Hall like the hiss of small flames.

"Potter—did it call out Potter?" "Is that Harry Potter?"

A stir ran through the crowd; no one knew what they were discussing, but some boys directly burst into excited cheers.

"He's actually Harry Potter!"

"As expected of the Boy Who Lived, no wonder he could defeat a fourth-year student!"

The girls shrieked, their voices so piercing that even the teachers on the staff table turned to look.

Snape, clad in black robes with hair so greasy it looked like it hadn't been washed in ten thousand years, sneered:

"Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived? How sensational, isn't it?"

Dumbledore lifted his head, gazing at the blushing boy, and said in surprise:

"I didn't expect him to cause such a stir."

But when Harry reached the four-legged stool, the two of them were dumbfounded again—the commotion below vanished the moment the crowd got a clear look at Harry's face. The shift from fervor to coldness was so swift it was almost jaw-dropping.

Yet after a moment, murmurs of discussion rose again from the floor—after all, that was Harry Potter, the living Boy Who Lived!

Face flushed red, Harry jammed the Sorting Hat onto his head, twisting it down hard, wishing he could bury his entire face under it—he knew exactly what they were talking about!

They'd mistaken him for Damon! Damn it, damn it!

In the end, under Harry's strong will, he went to Gryffindor.

Though the earlier mix-up had dampened everyone's spirits somewhat, they still gave Harry a rousing cheer—only, within that cheer, there always seemed to be a hint of hesitation?

But Harry was too nervous at the moment to notice.

Letting out a breath of relief, Harry quickly shifted his gaze to where he had been standing before—Damon hadn't been Sorted yet. Where would he go?

Only four students remained to be Sorted. The crowd of new and old students alike finally got a clear look at the person they had been searching for among those still waiting.

What would his name be?!

"Lisa Turpin!" "Ravenclaw!"

Three left.

The students stared eagerly, their gazes locked firmly on the most handsome boy among them!

"Ron Weasley!" "Gryffindor!"

Red-haired Ron thought all those eyes were on him; his steps trembled as he walked up, silently hoping no one had noticed.

But after his Sorting ended and he returned to his seat, an earth-shattering roar of cheers erupted behind him!

"Damon White!"

As that name rang out, the figure that had drawn every student's gaze began to step forward. A young witch could no longer contain her excitement, and with her scream, the entire hall turned into a roaring gale.

Whoosh!

As that figure advanced, the Great Hall erupted with the loudest cheer in its history, like a tidal wave, surging on and on without end.