In full view of everyone, Glenn and the others returned to the little room where they had been waiting.
"That was quite a debate," Hermione said admiringly.
"Debate? What debate?" Ron, who had grown up in a wizarding family, clearly had no idea what the Muggle word meant.
Hearing that, Hermione didn't bother explaining—it was too difficult.
Before coming to Hogwarts, she had worried that wizards might be far ahead of Muggles in every respect.
But after just a few days of observation, it seemed that being from a Muggle family did have its advantages.
At least, they were much better at logical reasoning!
"I was thinking we'd have to help you share the punishment, but I didn't expect you to handle it all by yourself!" Harry said excitedly in a low voice.
"I was just stating the facts."
"But you lost ten points before you were even sorted. Aren't you worried?" Hermione asked curiously.
Glenn smiled but said nothing.
What kind of punishment was it to lose ten points for his own house?
The new students might panic, but to him, it was about as serious as waking up in the middle of the night with a full bladder.
Well, perhaps it wasn't quite that bad.
Truth be told, Glenn had a friend who broke school rules as easily as breathing—the very friend who had taught him Petrificus Totalus.
That friend rarely saw eye to eye with the staff, but when it came to getting punished, he was remarkably consistent.
Over time, Glenn had learned a lot from him.
With hard work and talent, Glenn had soon overtaken his friend in the number of rules broken, all within a single year.
If Hogwarts kept a record of every rule broken,
Glenn would surely hold the record.
Professor Figg, who had bailed him out countless times, had no doubt about it.
Harry and Hermione were about to ask Glenn something else, but just then, about twenty ghosts suddenly burst through the wall behind them.
The pearly-white, translucent ghosts glided across the room, whispering to one another as though they were arguing about something.
Suddenly, a ghost wearing a ruff and a doublet noticed the first-years.
"Tell me, what are you doing here?"
"I suppose they're getting ready for a test," a chubby monk ghost answered, before they all left the room together.
The sudden interruption shattered the room's relaxed atmosphere.
"A test? What test?" Harry's heart gave a jolt. He had no idea what was going on. No one had told him there would be some kind of test.
Hermione, meanwhile, closed her eyes and muttered to herself, quickly reciting the spells she had learned.
"I don't know either. Fred said it'll hurt a lot." Ron's earlier excitement vanished, and his freckles seemed to stand out against his pale face.
The murmurs around them only made the tension worse.
"Oh, no! Is this finally happening? My dad said our Sorting Ceremony would involve taking on a Troll by ourselves..."
"What? A Troll? Us?"
"But my mum said that in her year, everyone had to defeat three Acromantulas..."
The whispers grew louder, and the students' spirits sank like stones dropped into a pond.
Even Malfoy and his group, who had just failed, had forgotten all about what had happened earlier.
"My father said he had to defeat a Werewolf by himself before he was allowed into Slytherin..."
At that, everyone around them turned purple in the face.
However, as someone who had once transferred into Hogwarts, Glenn had some experience.
He paused, recalling what had happened when he first started school.
First, a dragon had knocked him off a carriage. Then he had been hunted down by Ranrok, the leader of the Goblins at the time, and fought the statue guardians. After that, he had managed to arrive late to the Sorting Ceremony. Considering what he had gone through...
He had to admit, being made to face a Troll or an Acromantula alone wasn't out of the question.
In fact, it seemed pretty likely!
It would certainly be much easier than what he had faced when he first enrolled.
"If it's a Troll, take advantage of its clumsiness. Dodge between its attacks, then strike at its weak points..." Glenn began, suddenly serious. Harry, Ron, and Hermione beside him turned deathly pale.
The first-years within earshot of him turned around in surprise. After listening for a few seconds, they gradually stopped talking with the others and focused on his lesson instead.
Whether his advice was right or not, at least it was more reassuring than giving in to blind fear and worry.
About five minutes later, Professor McGonagall appeared before the first-years again.
"Now, line up in single file... and follow me."
The first-years trudged through the cramped room, but when Professor McGonagall opened the door, the view suddenly opened up before them.
The older students were already seated at four long tables. Thousands of candles floated in the air above them, lighting the tables, which were set with gleaming golden plates and goblets.
At the far end of the hall stood another long table on a raised platform. That was the High Table, where the teachers sat. Professor McGonagall led the first-years over and lined them up facing all the older students, with the teachers behind them.
The candlelight flickered. Hundreds of faces watched them, pale as lanterns, while the ghosts among the students glimmered with faint silvery light.
Harry looked up and saw stars twinkling against the velvety black ceiling.
"This ceiling's been enchanted. It looks just like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History," Hermione whispered.
Amid the low murmur of the crowd, Professor McGonagall stepped forward and placed a four-legged stool in front of the first-years. Then she set a pointed wizard's hat on it.
The hat was patched, worn, and filthy, looking like something dug up from who knew where.
The hall fell silent. Everyone watched Professor McGonagall and the hat she had just set down.
Suddenly, the broad, battered hat twitched.
A wide slit opened along its brim, like a mouth. A few timid girls let out little squeals.
"You may think I'm not pretty..."
Perhaps it had picked up the habit from some South Asian film. The hat launched into song without warning.
If it had sung well, that would have been one thing. But its voice was so rough and hoarse, like bark scraping against an old tree, that the first-years nearest the front felt an urge to cover their ears.
Everyone except the first-years was used to it, and watched with unruffled expressions.
Only the old man sitting in the middle of the High Table seemed interested. He clapped gently and swayed along to the beat.
He wore a pair of Half-moon Spectacles and had a crooked, long nose. Silver hair and a beard hung down around him.
Harry recognized him the moment he saw him.
"It's Dumbledore!" Harry whispered. He even had a Chocolate Frog Card of Dumbledore in his arms!
The agonizing minutes passed, and just as the first-years could hardly stand it anymore, the hat ended its performance.
The whole hall erupted in applause.
As it turned out, you didn't have to sing well to earn applause. Sing badly enough, and you could still get thunderous cheers the moment you finished.
Just then, Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a roll of parchment in her hand.
"When I call your name, 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 sat down. The hat covered her eyes.
A brief pause...
"Hufflepuff!" the hat shouted.
"So all we have to do is put on the hat," Ron whispered to Harry and Glenn with a sigh of relief. "I'm going to kill Fred. He made it sound like we'd have to fight a Troll."
Glenn sighed softly, then tucked away the Oak Wand he'd hidden in his sleeve.
"So we don't have to fight a Troll after all..."
Before you continue