I'm Not Some Dark Overlord

Though it was a bit regrettable, it wasn't exactly hard to understand.

After all, if they really demanded that first-years who hadn't even attended a single class go fight trolls, then the number of students who made it to second year probably wouldn't exceed ten.

Thinking this, Glen turned his attention back to the Sorting ceremony before him.

One by one, new students were called by Professor McGonagall in alphabetical order by surname, and the Sorting Hat announced the name of their house.

Some were sorted almost the moment their backsides touched the stool, while others had to sit for a good while before the Hat made its decision.

Take Hermione Granger, who had just been called—she sat up there for nearly a full minute before the Hat decided to place her in Gryffindor.

"Glen Howard." After Hermione walked down happily, Professor McGonagall called out.

Harry and Ron looked at him nervously.

"Mate, may Merlin bless you—don't end up in Slytherin."

Because it was the house Voldemort had once belonged to, and thanks to Malfoy's antics, their impression of Slytherin wasn't great.

Under the gaze of the surrounding new students, Glen stepped forward.

"Please, have a seat." Professor McGonagall said, holding the old hat.

Glen gave a polite bow, then nodded and sat down.

As footsteps sounded behind him, the old hat in Professor McGonagall's hands dropped onto his head, blocking his view.

"Huh? Why's it so dark in here?" The Sorting Hat's puzzled voice rang out.

"Is there a problem?"

"...No problem now. Must be this old hat getting too old."

Hearing this, Glen tucked the wand hidden in his sleeve even deeper.

As for the Sorting, he had no objections.

It was just a precaution to seal away part of his past memories.

Otherwise, if the old hat suddenly blurted out "Azkaban" while he was still being sorted, he'd have a hard time dealing with it.

On that matter, Glen had enough self-awareness.

"Alright, just a little hiccup. Let's continue the Sorting. Let me see... hmm... hmm? What year are you, again?" During the unusually long Sorting, the Hat suddenly threw out this question.

"First-year."

"Oh~ The old hat thought its memory was going haywire. No worries, as long as you're not a fifth-year." The Hat muttered quietly.

As if unwilling to let Glen ask further, and even less wanting to linger on the topic, it immediately turned to itself: "You already have likes, dislikes, opinions, and expectations about the world... more mature than the others... but you're not lacking a taste for fun either... difficult... very difficult."

It was clear that the Sorting Hat was exceptionally torn over which house to put Glen in.

It was agonizing over whether this new student's qualities leaned more toward brave Gryffindor, ambitious Slytherin, studious Ravenclaw, or loyal, hardworking Hufflepuff.

Honestly, Glen felt that this whole system of slapping hats on people and tagging them with labels was already somewhat outdated by modern standards.

After all, whether child or adult, no one could be summed up by a single label.

Take the current Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge—the highest official in the British magical world.

Without ambition far beyond the ordinary, it would be impossible to reach the pinnacle of power.

But which house was he in during his time at Hogwarts?

The answer was Hufflepuff.

So while the Sorting had some merit, Glen never believed it could decide a wizard's future.

"Strange, really strange... It seems like every house suits you... And you don't seem to have any opinion on which house to pick?" The Hat said in a suspicious tone.

Normally, new students who'd heard its song would have their own ideas about houses.

"Oh, I get it—you didn't listen carefully to my song earlier, did you? Want me to sing it again?"

"I refuse." Glen answered almost without thinking.

He respected the tradition of Sorting at Hogwarts since its founding, but on the matter of listening to the Sorting Hat sing again, Glen's stance was immovable.

"But you have to go to some house... How about this: since I think your qualities would fit in any house, why don't you pick one yourself?" The Hat said, a bit helpless.

Otherwise, they couldn't just drag this out forever—it would make people doubt its professional competence!

Hearing this, Glen made a simple selection among the four houses.

Brave Gryffindor was good—though sometimes a bit reckless, the students had great character, a strong sense of justice, and dared to say no to injustice. If a criminal gang actually stood before them, they'd genuinely charge in alone as students to take them down.

Wise Ravenclaw was also acceptable. Honestly, this was Glen's area of expertise. He'd solved no fewer than a thousand puzzles, and even that old Merlin... ahem, the most~ greatest wizard in history's riddles—Glen had cracked about a hundred of them.

As for hardworking Hufflepuff, Glen's biggest impression was that their dormitory was close to the kitchen... ahem, and that they were very popular with magical creatures. He'd even once rescued a dragon alongside a Hufflepuff classmate!

But the proximity to the kitchen was indeed a major advantage. If there were no other surprises, that alone would have been reason enough for Glen to choose no other house.

As for the last one, Slytherin... hmm, it didn't seem to have any particular merits. He'd only heard Ron say it was the house that Voldemort guy had been in, which supposedly meant a lot of dark wizards came out of it.

Thinking this, Glen shook his head with a wry smile.

He wasn't some bloodthirsty Dark Lord.

At least, back when he'd transferred in, that term hadn't even been invented yet...

Maybe because the Sorting was taking too long—even longer than Hermione's had been—the first-years below had started whispering among themselves.

The loudest of them was Draco Malfoy.

He was doing his utmost to spread news about Glen Howard.

Saying that once the Sorting Hat assigned him to a house, that house would lose a full ten points before the term even officially started!

The newly sorted first-years were all worried that this Glen might end up in their own house, but what they failed to notice was that the older students, who'd already spent some time at Hogwarts, couldn't care less about a mere ten points.

After all, sometimes you could lose those ten points just by saying one wrong thing in class, so compared to that, they were more interested in when dinner would start.

Of course, there were exceptions—the Gryffindor twins, Fred and George.

But they weren't worried about whether Glen's arrival would cost them ten points; they were thinking about how to pull off the biggest prank in the new year while using the fewest points from Gryffindor.

"Don't worry, Glen won't be sorted into Slytherin. I think he'll definitely go to Gryffindor—I've never met anyone braver than him," Ron said quietly, both to Harry beside him and to himself.

Harry didn't say anything.

But recalling the trolley joyride at the station, feeding Malfoy, and the argument just now, he had to admit he really hadn't met another peer with that kind of nerve.

Just then, the Sorting Hat finally made its decision.

"Slytherin!"

At the same moment, the smile on Malfoy's face froze.