The Savior in Slytherin

Harry had actually considered shouting "Super Mega Ultimate I Love You" or "This is Lily Potter's Fury" to channel the barely perceptible [Love Charm Power] and punch Quirrell.

But now Voldemort wasn't there.

The dog-skin book hadn't triggered a quest either.

"Hannah Abbott!" Professor McGonagall hurriedly called the names, ignoring the tradition of the Sorting Hat singing its song. "You can sing after the Sorting!"

The little girl with two braids, who had nearly cried earlier over not knowing a single spell, quickly stepped forward and put on the Sorting Hat.

"Hufflepuff!"

She trotted over to the second table on the right.

The Great Hall's layout was close to the movies: from left to right, Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw.

Not like the original books: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Hufflepuff.

--Breeding hostility, huh, seating rival houses right next to each other.

Harry silently grumbled.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley!" "Hufflepuff!"

The curly-haired boy with a clever look, who had proposed the Sunlight Charm, took off the hat, looking somewhat disappointed.

"Hermione Granger!" "Gryffindor!"

Ron stumbled, suddenly entertaining the thought of going to Hufflepuff instead.

"Neville Longbottom!" "Gryffindor!"

"Draco Malfoy!"

The Sorting Hat was silent on Draco's head for nearly a full minute before shrieking, "Slytherin!"

He trotted over to Crabbe and Goyle, picking a secluded spot in the back.

Almost every Slytherin student stared at him, their eyes filled with undisguised malice.

"Harry Potter!"

Potter's P was near the end, leaving only Harry and a black boy named Blaise Zabini.

Everyone seemed to think it was only fitting that the finale should come last.

"James!"

A mournful, wolf-like howl came from the head table.

It was a handsome man with an ornate, refined appearance, looking like he had just recovered from a long illness, with long gray-white hair flowing over his shoulders.

He emerged from a hidden door behind the head table, followed by a pretty pink-haired girl.

Snape shot to his feet, his eyes blazing with undisguised hatred.

"Sirius Black!"

"Snivellus!"

For a moment, Snape seemed ready to draw his wand and cast a spell.

But Sirius had already drawn his first.

"What is this Death Eater doing here?"

"Sirius," Dumbledore waved his hand casually, and the wand flew from Sirius's grip, "Severus is on our side."

"He's a mole, a spy? Just like Peter Pettigrew the traitor? Only he's on our side?" Sirius was utterly shocked, as if he had just seen Voldemort wearing a dress and dancing ballet.

Snape's face was ashen, but he said nothing.

Harry knew that Snape would probably rather be thought of as a Death Eater, but bound by the plan, he had to accept his identity as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix.

"Harry, I'm your godfather, you must already know!" Sirius finally noticed the Sorting Hat. "Sorry, I didn't know you were being Sorted."

"It's not too late now."

Harry stepped forward and put on the Sorting Hat.

Its wide brim meant it didn't cover half his face like it did for others, letting him see the excitement and curiosity in the eyes of the students at the four long tables opposite.

He could also feel a tingling sensation on top of his head, and he cooperated by loosening some of his restraints.

In his mind, the Sorting Hat's voice rang out.

--[Occlumency]? No, something more advanced than that.

"You have great talent—any of the four houses would suit you."

"No matter which you choose, you will walk the path to success."

"Slytherin, is that certain?"

"Set things right?"

"Wait... there's a gift I want to give you, a gift from a thousand years ago."

"You were always worthy of it."

"SLYTHERIN!"

Nearly everyone rose to their feet in response.

Sirius's "No!" hadn't even left his throat before a dazzling ruby... no, a silver-gleaming sword set with it, was pulled from the Sorting Hat by Harry.

"Gryffindor!""Gryffindor!"...n

Students from the other three houses cheered in unison.

"This is the Sword of Gryffindor! Only a true Gryffindor can draw it!"

Sirius rushed to Dumbledore, hopping up and down beneath the staff table.

"Gryffindor wished to place his true heir in Slytherin!" said the Sorting Hat.

The entire hall fell silent, so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

"No! This is an insult to Slytherin!" Marcus, who hadn't tasted Harry's fists and had slept through the ride, stood up and roared, "We don't welcome him!"

He turned, only to find most Slytherins staring at the table with bowed heads.

"You—!"

Harry was speechless—these useless wastes, if they didn't dare resist, wouldn't his reward be lost?

"Since it is Godric Gryffindor's will..." Dumbledore's words were cut off.

Sirius roared, "That filthy house isn't worthy of Harry, Dumbledore, you can't!"

"In fact, Dumbledore can." Snape, who had looked like he'd eaten a booger-flavored Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean at Harry's Sorting result, finally wore a pleased smile.

Sirius's pain was his joy!

The news that the true Gryffindor, the Boy Who Lived Harry Potter, had been Sorted into Slytherin was too shocking.

So much so that no one cared anymore about the new song the Sorting Hat had composed, Tonks announcing her arrival at Hogwarts as the school's Auror, or Sirius taking up a post at Hogwarts on the spot.

The unindustrialized Hufflepuff recipes' delicious food seemed to lose its charm, turning bland and tasteless.

A large empty space opened up to Harry's left.

Only Draco sat tightly beside him, occasionally throwing provocative glances at Marcus Flint and the others.

"Harry, why not come sit with us?"

Ron from the next table quickly said, pointing to the empty seat saved for Harry.

The other Gryffindors nodded in agreement.

Even Percy, stickler for rules and rigid, couldn't help leaving his seat and coming to Harry's side, ready to personally invite him.

"Sorry, Percy Weasley, Harry Potter is one of ours."

A tall figure blocked Percy's path.

It was a girl with shoulder-length chestnut hair, sharp and spirited—Slytherin prefect Gemma Farley.

She walked straight to Harry's left and sat down, extending her hand to him.

That hand was fair and slender, every nail a healthy pink, neatly trimmed.

"I welcome you on behalf of Slytherin."

"On behalf of?" Harry's tone was mild, but his words were overwhelmingly assertive. "Since I've come to Slytherin, the only one who can represent it is me."

"Well done!" Percy applauded.

Hermione, who had been watching closely, was also incredibly excited.

Gemma's smile froze. She hadn't expected her charm to fail, and before an eleven-year-old boy at that.

"I'm the prefect?" She was even losing confidence.

"Your recognition as prefect comes from rules and professors' appointments. That has nothing to do with me."

Harry swallowed a piece of steak in one gulp, like a lion tearing into its prey.

"I'm not someone you can control."

He didn't need a lion in his eyes—he himself was the lion king.

Apart from the dog-eared book, there was no one in this world he needed to bow his head to.