Me? Killing the Giant Monster Alone?

Under the gaze of all eyes, Glenn and the others returned to the small waiting room.

"What a brilliant debate," Hermione remarked with admiration.

"Debate what?" Clearly, Ron, raised in a wizarding family, couldn't grasp this Muggle term.

Hearing this, Hermione didn't bother to explain—it was too difficult.

Before arriving at Hogwarts, she had worried whether wizards might be leagues ahead of Muggles in every aspect.

But after just a few days of observation, it seemed being Muggle-born wasn't entirely without merit.

At the very least, their logical reasoning skills were far superior!

"I thought we'd have to share the punishment with you, but you handled it all on your own!" Harry whispered excitedly.

"I just stated the facts."

"But losing ten points before you've even been sorted—aren't you worried?" Hermione asked curiously.

Glenn smiled and said nothing.

What kind of punishment was it to lose ten points for the house you'd yet to join?

New students might panic, but for him, its severity was about as troubling as being woken up by a full bladder in the middle of the night.

Well, maybe not quite that bad.

To be honest, Glenn had a friend who broke school rules like they were going out of style—the same friend who taught him Petrificus Totalus.

This friend rarely saw eye to eye with the faculty, but when it came to getting detention, he was as reliable as clockwork.

Over time, Glenn had learned a lot from him.

With diligence and talent, Glenn quickly overtook him in rule-breaking frequency within just one year.

If every rule broken at Hogwarts were recorded, Glenn would surely hold the record.

Professor Figg, who had bailed him out countless times, had no doubt about that.

Harry and Hermione wanted to ask Glenn more, but just then, about twenty ghosts suddenly burst through the wall behind them.

These pearly white, translucent ghosts glided across the room, whispering among themselves as if arguing about something.

But then a ghost in a ruffled collar and tight-fitting doublet suddenly noticed the first-years.

"Say, what are you lot doing here?"

"I suppose they're here to take the test?" a plump friar ghost replied, before drifting out of the room with the others.

This sudden disruption shattered the room's previously relaxed atmosphere.

"The test? What test?" Harry's heart tightened. He knew nothing—no one had mentioned any test.

Hermione closed her eyes, muttering under her breath as she rapidly recited the spells she'd learned.

"I don't know either. Fred said it hurts a lot," Ron said, his earlier excitement gone, his freckles turning pale.

The murmurs around them only heightened the tension.

"Merlin's beard! Is it finally here? My dad said our year's sorting ceremony involved taking down a troll solo..."

"A troll? Us?"

"But my mum said in her year, everyone had to defeat three Acromantulas..."

The whispers grew louder, each student's mood sinking like a stone dropped into a pond.

Even Malfoy and his group, fresh off their failure, couldn't dwell on what had just happened.

"My father said he took down a werewolf by himself to earn his place in Slytherin..."

At that, the faces around them turned pale.

But as a transfer student who had attended Hogwarts before, Glenn had some experience.

He pondered, recalling the scene from his own first day.

First, being bitten off a carriage by a dragon, then besieged by the goblin leader Ranrok, fighting a statue guardian, and finally showing up late to the sorting ceremony—based on his own experience...

Taking on a troll or an Acromantula solo wasn't out of the question.

In fact, it was pretty likely!

At least it was simpler than his own entrance.

"If you run into a troll, use its clumsiness against it, dodge between its attacks, and strike its weak points..." Glenn suddenly said seriously, startling Harry, Ron, and Hermione into pale faces.

The first-years within earshot turned back in surprise, listened for a few seconds, and gradually quieted their own chatter to focus on his lesson.

Right or wrong, it was at least more calming than blind worry and fear.

About five minutes later, Professor McGonagall appeared before the new students again.

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

The new students trudged heavily through the cramped room, but as Professor McGonagall swung open the doors, everything suddenly opened up before them.

The older students were already seated at four long tables, with thousands of candles floating in the air above, illuminating the table settings. Each table gleamed with golden plates and goblets.

At the top of the hall was another long table for the teachers. Professor McGonagall led the first-years over, making them line up facing the older students, with the teachers behind them.

The candlelight flickered, and hundreds of faces stared at them like pale lanterns, while ghosts shimmered faintly among the students, casting silvery glows.

Harry looked up and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with twinkling stars.

Hermione whispered, "It's enchanted to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."

Amid the murmurs, Professor McGonagall stepped forward and placed a four-legged stool in front of the first-years, then set a pointed wizard's hat on it.

The hat was patched, frayed, and filthy, looking like some old relic dug up from who knows where.

The Great Hall fell silent. Everyone watched Professor McGonagall's movements and the hat she had just set down.

Suddenly, the wide, battered hat twitched.

A slit opened along its brim, like a mouth, making some of the more timid girls let out small shrieks.

"You might think I'm not pretty..."

Whether it was a habit picked up from some South Asian film, the hat broke into song without warning.

If only it sang well—but its voice was rough and raspy, like bark scraping together, making the front-row first-years want to cover their ears.

Except for the new students, everyone else was used to it, their faces calm.

Only an old man at the center of the teachers' table clapped lightly with interest, swaying gently to the rhythm.

He wore half-moon spectacles, had a crooked, long nose, and silver hair and beard flowing down.

Harry recognized him at first sight.

"It's Dumbledore!" Harry whispered. He even had Dumbledore's Chocolate Frog card in his pocket!

The agonizing minutes dragged on, and just as the first-years were about to lose it, the Sorting Hat stopped its performance.

Instantly, thunderous applause erupted.

It turned out that you didn't need to sing well to earn applause—sing badly enough, and the moment you stopped, you'd get a roaring ovation.

Then 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," she said.

"Hannah Abbott!"

A rosy-cheeked girl with two blonde braids stumbled out of the line, put on the hat, and it slipped down over her eyes.

A brief pause...

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat shouted.

"So we just have to put on this hat?" Ron sighed with relief, whispering to Harry and Glenn. "I'm going to kill Fred—he made it sound like we'd be wrestling a troll."

Glenn let out a soft sigh and tucked the Oak Wand hidden in his sleeve back away.

"So no troll-fighting after all..."