The Sorting Ceremony

The candlelight in Hogwarts' Great Hall flickered amid the storm. As Sagreles followed Professor McGonagall into the hall, Peeves was hanging upside down above the Ravenclaw table, about to pour ink over the seats.

He met Peeves's eyes, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Peeves froze mid-motion, then fell into the aisle like a bat specimen trapped in ice.

Professor Flitwick was dusting off the Sorting Hat. Candlelight gleamed against his graying sideburns, while the blue-and-silver Ravenclaw pin at his collar faintly shone.

"Filius, your cufflink," McGonagall reminded him softly, startling Mrs Norris from her nap.

The diminutive Charms professor covered his left sleeve, where an ordinary silver cufflink sat crookedly. He turned toward the entrance, and a delighted smile suddenly spread across his wrinkled face. "Ah, Sagreles!"

"It's been a long time, Professor Flitwick." Sagreles hurried forward, bending as he extended both hands to clasp those of his former Head of House.

In the corner, Snape, who was usually expressionless, wore an irritated look.

The castle's candlelight swayed as the wall torches cast dancing shadows. The distant hubbub of students in the Great Hall drifted over.

The new students huddled together nervously, the chill of the night wind clinging to their robes. Some were still trembling.

Dressed in emerald-green robes, McGonagall wore a solemn expression as she descended the marble staircase briskly, a roll of parchment—the list of new students—in hand. Her footsteps rang crisply, her robes billowing behind her.

At the foot of the stairs, her sharp gaze swept over the new students. The noise stopped at once, as though they had all been struck by a Full Body-Bind Curse.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term feast is about to begin, but before you take your seats and enjoy the food, you must first undergo the Sorting Ceremony.

"The Sorting Ceremony will determine which House you will study in over the coming years: the brave Gryffindor, the upright Hufflepuff, the clever Ravenclaw, and the shrewd Slytherin.

"Each House has a long and proud history. Each has produced countless outstanding witches and wizards who have made remarkable contributions to the Wizarding World.

"During your time at Hogwarts, your House will be like a warm home. Every outstanding performance can bring glory to your House and earn it points, while any violation of the rules will disgrace it and result in points being deducted.

"At the end of the year, we will tally each House's total points. The House with the highest score will win the House Cup—an unsurpassed honor that every student dreams of."

"Now, everyone..." She waved her wand, and a silver light flashed at its tip, signaling the new students to quickly form a neat single line. Then she ordered loudly, "Line up and follow me."

Before pushing open the Great Hall's enormous oak doors, she paused slightly and turned to face the somewhat pale new students. Her tone softened, though it still carried unquestionable authority. "There is no need to be nervous. The Sorting Ceremony will not harm you.

"You only need to put on the Sorting Hat. It will keenly sense your qualities and potential, then loudly announce which House you belong in."

The corners of her lips lifted slightly, as if she were trying to bring a little warmth to the tense atmosphere. But soon, her stern expression settled back over her face like solid ice.

Then she turned and strode at the front of the line, chin raised. The new students followed closely behind her, their hearts full of unease, and entered the solemn, mysterious Great Hall.

The Great Hall was silent. Thousands of eyes turned in unison toward the new students. McGonagall steadily placed a four-legged stool at the front of the hall, with the battered, patched, utterly unremarkable Sorting Hat resting atop it.

Then she quietly stepped aside, folding her hands before her chest. Her gaze was sharp as she supervised the entire Sorting process.

As the first-years exchanged confused glances, the battered old hat on the stool—with what looked like an ordinary crack in it—suddenly came alive and began to sing.

"You may think I'm not very pretty,

But never judge by appearances,

If you can find a hat wiser than me,

I'll eat myself whole.

Try me on, and I will tell you,

Which House you ought to join.

Come and wear me! Do not be afraid!

Do not panic!

In my hands—though I have no hands at all—

You are perfectly safe,

If you can't find a book by its title, try searching for the author—it may simply have been renamed!

Because I am a magical hat that thinks!"

After the Sorting Hat finished its song, McGonagall stepped forward with the list of new students. "The Sorting will now begin. When I call your name, come and sit on the stool."

"Hannah Abbott—"

A young witch stepped out of the crowd uneasily and sat on the four-legged stool. McGonagall placed the ragged old hat on her head.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The Sorting Hat suddenly shouted through its crack-like mouth, and cheers immediately erupted from the Hufflepuff table.

At the sight of this familiar scene, a smile could not help appearing on Sagreles's face.

His memories drifted back ten years, to when he had first arrived at Hogwarts. Voldemort had only just fallen then, and the scent of old oak and candle smoke in the Great Hall was no different from now.

At eleven, he had gripped a secondhand wand as he walked toward the Sorting Hat, coal dust from Knockturn Alley still clinging to his cuffs. The moment the hat settled over his head, the sneering whispers of some Death Eater's son pierced the hall.

"A Mudblood thinks he deserves a wand?" The snicker came from the Slytherin table, like the sound of a venomous snake slithering across stone.

"Blood traitor..."

"Filthy mongrel..."

"He isn't one of the Greengrass family..."

Then every sound vanished, and the Sorting Hat's voice appeared in his mind.

"Very well, let me see which House suits you...

Ah, you are filled with ambition... yet you disdain honor.

You possess courage... yet you scorn recklessness.

You are loyal enough, and absolutely fair... yet you seem unable to tolerate laziness and mediocrity.

Oh, yes. You possess exceptional intelligence, but deep within you lie unparalleled arrogance and detachment.

How strange. You possess the traits of all four Houses, yet in thought, you stand opposed to every one of them.

What a difficult choice..."

"Send me to Ravenclaw!"

"Ravenclaw? Very well. It does suit you, though you may not necessarily suit it. But since you insist."

"Then—"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The Sorting Hat's voice jolted Sagreles, seated at the professors' table, out of his memories. A moment later, thunderous applause erupted from the Gryffindor table.

He looked up and discovered that the famous Harry Potter had been sorted into Gryffindor House. The Gryffindor students looked delighted, and a pair of twins even whistled and shouted, "We've got Potter! Potter is ours!"

Sagreles raised an eyebrow. It seemed the Savior's title was quite popular, even though he was only an eleven-year-old child.

His gaze drifted over the tables until he realized that Potter was the bespectacled boy he had met on the Hogwarts Express.

Recalling the boy's reserved manner and worn-out glasses, he immediately understood one thing—his life with his Muggle family had clearly not been very good.

Yet Sagreles felt more at ease instead.

He understood Dumbledore's reasons for doing this. The old headmaster had sent the Boy Who Lived into the Muggle world not merely to protect him, but likely for another reason as well.

After all, everyone in England's Wizarding World had known Harry's name back then—before he could walk, before he could speak.

This infant had become famous for things he did not remember at all. If he had remained in the Wizarding World, he would have been steeped in immense fame every day.

What sort of person would the young Savior become in such an environment?

Probably an arrogant, overbearing little brat who looked down on everyone else.

There was no shortage of such examples among pure-blood families, so Sagreles felt that the Savior's current state was not bad. Aside from seeming somewhat lacking in confidence, he appeared to have no other serious flaws.

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