Sorting

Sorting

After receiving Silvan's affirmative reply, Hagrid finally walked down the stone steps and left.

Meanwhile, inside the castle, Harry Potter had been watching this way... or rather, he had been deliberately or unconsciously glancing toward Hagrid the whole way. He happened to see the two of them whispering at the back of the group.

For some reason, after Silvan entered the castle, Harry instinctively walked over.

"Excuse me, what were you talking about just now?"

Silvan froze for a moment, because he had not expected the Savior to be so... familiar?

Logically speaking, after Malfoy's provocation, he should not have had much goodwill toward pure-blood wizards right now.

"Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it." Harry probably realized that his behavior had been somewhat rash. Panicking, he waved his hands as he explained, "I know Hagrid too. I mean, if you need any help..."

"Thanks for the offer, but there's no need." Silvan said casually, "Something of his broke, and I just happen to be able to fix it."

"I see. Oh, right, I'm Harry Potter."

"Silvan Ollivander. We met in Diagon Alley, but your attention was entirely on your wand then."

"Really? I'm sorry, I don't remember at all."

"It's fine. Very few wizards can stay calm after getting their first wand."

The two chatted idly, drawing the attention of the others.

Malfoy kept glancing over from time to time, and his expression was different every time. It was quite the spectacle.

Why?

They were both pure-blood wizards, so why was Potter willing to talk to Silvan? It wasn't fair!

Ron felt the same way, except his face held more wariness.

After what had happened earlier, he instinctively lumped Silvan in with people like Malfoy. Everyone knew that the Weasleys and the Malfoys had never gotten along.

So the more Harry talked to Silvan, the more unhappy Ron became.

Fortunately, McGonagall arrived before long and led everyone into the Great Hall.

The Great Hall was already full, but when McGonagall led a long line of students inside, everyone's eyes still fell upon the new students.

Were they nervous? Most of the new students seemed rather nervous, but they were also astonished by the magical sight before them.

The ceiling was actually a star-filled sky.

A thousand burning candles floated beneath the enchanted ceiling, looking like another night sky.

There were also more than a dozen milky-white things that looked like people around them.

Were those ghosts?

Including Neville, several of the more timid children had gone weak in the legs. Stumbling along, they finally managed to shuffle to the front.

Hermione beside them was doing slightly better, but her face was still pale, and both hands tightly gripped the corner of her robes.

Ghosts, a singing hat—these things were practically grinding her eleven years of understanding and beliefs into the ground over and over again...

After an unknown amount of time, the Sorting Hat finally finished its song, and the people below all straightened up.

"Now we will begin the Sorting. When I call your name, put on the hat and sit on the stool."

McGonagall swept her gaze over the new students.

"Hannah Abbott!"

As the new students around him dwindled one by one, Silvan suddenly realized something: he was still holding Tom.

Normally, pets were supposed to be sent to the school with the luggage, but Tom had chased after the train to eat one of its fellows, so Silvan had no choice but to carry it into the castle.

But he could not possibly go through the Sorting ceremony while holding a cat. It would draw too much attention and look far too pretentious.

"Silvan Ollivander!"

McGonagall's voice rang out. With no time to think of what to do, Silvan could only let go and toss Tom onto the floor.

"Don't run around," he hurriedly warned before walking toward the front.

"Look, it's Silvan." At the Gryffindor table, Hermione, who had only just been sorted there, turned and said.

Neville was sitting beside her.

"I really hope he gets sorted into Gryffindor too," Hermione whispered.

A passing ghost happened to hear her and immediately shook his head. "That's impossible."

"Why?" Hermione did not understand. There were four Houses, so shouldn't there be a one-in-four chance at least? How could it be impossible?

"Because he's an Ollivander." Nearly Headless Nick said with a smile, "Most Ollivanders go to Ravenclaw. It's impossible for them to be sorted into—"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The ghost's words were interrupted by the hat's loud announcement.

The next second, the entire Great Hall fell into a very strange state.

Some students instinctively applauded, but a small number merely sat there, staring at the front in shock.

Even the professors at the teachers' table did not applaud, all turning their eyes toward the Sorting Hat.

Gradually, the applause faded, and the Great Hall sank into an eerie silence.

Snape narrowed his eyes. Flitwick rubbed his ears hard, and even Dumbledore unconsciously leaned forward.

"Albus..." McGonagall turned her head, seeming to want confirmation of something.

"The Sorting Hat does not make mistakes," Dumbledore said firmly.

"It seems the Sorting Hat has brought us another great surprise." Snape curled his lip, his tone icy.

"Yes." Flitwick echoed from the side. "Just like when that Black was sorted into Gryffindor decades ago."

"But this is even more outrageous."

At the center of everyone's attention, Silvan calmly removed the hat and handed it back to McGonagall.

"Mr. Ollivander, you..."

"I respect the school's Sorting rules, Professor," Silvan said calmly. "But may I ask the Sorting Hat one more question? It was too rushed just now, and I forgot."

"...All right." McGonagall hesitated before placing the hat back on Silvan's head.

"Hm? You again." The faint voice sounded in his ear once more. "No matter what you say, I won't change my mind. You're very suited to Gryffindor."

"No, you misunderstand. I only want to ask you a question." Silvan spoke without deliberately lowering his voice, and many people could hear him.

"What question? Ask away."

"Is there any particular kind of wood you like?"

Wood?

Everyone who heard this was baffled, unable to understand what significance the question had.

Only Dumbledore seemed to guess something, and his expression changed slightly.

He had long heard that the Ollivander family had produced an extraordinary genius wandmaker, someone who could turn all kinds of unimaginable materials into wand cores.

Could it be... Oh, impossible. What was he thinking? How could a hat possibly be made into a wand core?

Dumbledore shook his head, deciding that Silvan was merely trying to scare the Sorting Hat.

That personality was not Ollivander-like at all.

By then, Silvan had already calmly walked over to the Gryffindor table and taken a seat.

The Sorting continued, as though nothing had happened.

"Next, Harry Potter!"

(End of Chapter)