Ron: I Made a Decision That Betrays My Ancestors

"Albus, do you have anything to say?"

"Er..." Dumbledore found himself momentarily speechless.

He had originally intended to use the Sorting Ceremony to put Snape at ease, but it had backfired instead.

He had actually considered the possibility of Tom being sorted into Slytherin, but having the Sorting Hat declare him a "born Slytherin" was something he had never witnessed before.

After all, Tom was so young.

Unless a direct descendant of Salazar himself had arrived, this effect wouldn't occur.

Come to think of it, Voldemort supposedly carried Salazar's bloodline.

It seemed Snape had reached the same conclusion, as his gaze toward Tom grew increasingly hostile.

"Don't be so hasty, Professor Snape. Take a look at this first."

Dumbledore pulled several clean but crumpled pieces of paper from his robes, as if they had been unfolded and refolded many times in a short period.

Everything that had happened to Tom from King's Cross Station until just before entering Hogwarts had been clearly recorded by the Order of the Phoenix members he had dispatched, with letters sent back at regular intervals.

If not for these letters, he might have found Tom truly suspicious after today's events.

Flipping through the papers in his hands, Snape, who had been on the verge of acting rashly, finally calmed down.

"After the feast, I'd like to have a word with you."

"Coincidentally, I'd like to have a word with the Sorting Hat as well."

Dumbledore looked toward the old hat, quite curious to ask what "Azkaban" meant.

Meanwhile, down at the tables.

["Born Dark Lord" +30 Progress]

["Born Dark Lord" +20 Progress]

["Born Dark Lord" +40... +50...]

["Born Dark Lord" +50 Progress, Impression Level reached Lv.3, Achievement Points +1]

["Born Dark Lord" +10... +30...]

The older professors of Hogwarts were all exceptional talents, veteran wizards who had made names for themselves in various fields. Though their influence didn't match Dumbledore's, none of them were weak.

The series of events during the Sorting Ceremony had directly pushed Tom's [Born Dark Lord] persona up a full level, and it wasn't far from Lv.4 either.

"Is this a good thing or a bad thing?" Tom stared at the panel before him, caught between laughter and tears.

"Ah..."

Forget it. Take things as they come.

At worst, he'd just help more old ladies cross the street and build up a few more positive personas.

Time flew by...

The Sorting Ceremony proceeded quickly.

Almost everyone ended up in the houses they were assigned to in the original story, except for Harry... and Ron.

"How did you end up in Slytherin?" Tom asked curiously, looking at Ron sitting across from him.

Harry coming to Slytherin could be attributed to Tom's long-term influence, but what about Ron, who had only spent a few hours with him?

"Brother Tom, I want to learn sports..." Ron stared at Tom's face with intense eagerness.

He had originally been headed for Gryffindor, but after requesting it from the Sorting Hat, he came to Slytherin instead. There were two reasons: one was that among his peers, he had no acquaintances besides Tom and Harry; the other was his hope of learning something from Tom.

Among the Weasley family, Ron was arguably the most overlooked.

He had five brilliant older brothers—two former prefects, one current prefect, and two moderately famous Quidditch Beaters.

Below him was a sister who received the family's full affection.

Only he, stuck in the middle without distinction, was the "least remarkable child" of the family.

And now, he saw a chance to change that.

During the ride, Harry had told him many things about Tom. Though Harry's archaic Chinese-English accent was truly hard to understand, Ron had managed to grasp the gist.

It was then that Ron learned someone as famous as Harry Potter had once lived a life a thousand times more miserable than his own, and the one who had changed that was Tom.

For this reason, he wanted Tom to train him the same way he had trained Harry. He certainly couldn't reach Tom's level, but he might be able to catch up to Harry.

He too wanted to be like Harry—the first to throw a punch when someone insulted him or those close to him.

But that required sufficient strength and courage.

"So you made a decision that defied your ancestors?" Tom's expression turned subtle after hearing the full explanation.

The Weasley family had been Gryffindors for generations—parents, brothers, even the sister who would enroll later and future descendants were all Gryffindors.

If Tom could be called a "born Slytherin," then the Weasleys were "born Gryffindors," and this was partly why they were called "the shame of the Sacred Twenty-Eight."

Unexpectedly, under his influence...

The first Slytherin in the Weasley family history had been born!

"Yes, Big Brother!" Ron looked at Tom with increasingly fervent eyes.

"Alright, starting tomorrow morning, you'll train with me." Tom had no choice but to agree.

As the saying goes, many hands make light work. Having a few of his own people around upon first arriving at Hogwarts would be very useful, making many future tasks more convenient.

"Excellent, Brother Ron! From now on, you can take the fourth seat. Dudley should be overjoyed to have a fourth younger brother!" Harry said with a smile, clasping his hands in a salute.

"During the first-year Christmas holiday, you absolutely must introduce me to Third Brother," Ron immediately replied, mimicking Harry's gesture and returning a fist bump.

At the same time.

The Sorting Ceremony had finally officially concluded.

"Welcome, welcome new and old students, to Hogwarts to begin a new term of study. But remember, there are a few places you must not go, such as the Forbidden Forest, the Fourth Floor..."

After briefly listing a series of precautions, Dumbledore added one last line: "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

With a slight bow, he sat back down in his chair.

The hall immediately erupted in thunderous applause, and Tom joined in.

Hogwarts truly lived up to its fairy-tale reputation—the headmaster's speech was concise and to the point. Whether or not you understood the cryptic words he spoke, the fact that he didn't drag things out was worthy of enthusiastic applause.

Next, before the applause even died down, food appeared out of thin air on the long tables before them.

Roast beef, lamb chops, sausages, mashed potatoes... different dishes came with different sauces, and a variety of enticing aromas instantly filled the Great Hall, tempting every young wizard's appetite.

The lavish feast was dazzling to the eye.

"Big Brother, isn't Britain supposed to be a culinary wasteland? How is the school food so lavish?" Harry tugged at Tom's sleeve.

The food before him—whether in color, aroma, or taste—was ten thousand times more sumptuous than anything from his old primary school cafeteria. He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.

"It's said that Hogwarts' menu was set a thousand years ago by Helga Hufflepuff, the founder of Hufflepuff. She was extremely skilled in food-related charms," Tom explained.

He had read all this in Hogwarts: A History, which was practically required reading for incoming students.

"No wonder," Harry said, already unable to resist grabbing a piece of beef and stuffing it into his mouth.

There was actually one more thing Tom hadn't mentioned about the menu.

The fact that a thousand-year-old recipe book hadn't gone out of style yet indirectly proved one thing: Britain truly was a culinary wasteland. After all, this was the place that had created Stargazy Pie...

Truly terrifying.