The Great Hall at Hogwarts blazed with light. Thousands of candles floated in midair beneath a ceiling of glittering stars, and young witches and wizards filled four exceptionally long tables.
The Sorting Hat was sorting Harry Potter. Then it shouted.
"Gryffindor!"
"Ha! We've got Harry Potter!"
Harry was not particularly happy about being sorted into Gryffindor. He seemed distracted as Ron and the other Gryffindor students welcomed him enthusiastically.
Before long, Professor McGonagall was sorting the last young wizard.
Seeing that Shawn still had not appeared, Harry grew nervous and kept glancing toward the Slytherin table. It was full of injured students, yet those injured students seemed quite pleased.
Draco, who had been sorted into Slytherin, was red-faced and bristling as he argued with some older students.
Harry shifted his gaze to the Ravenclaw Table and spotted Hermione, who looked just as anxious and uneasy as he felt.
Watching Harry, Ron said indignantly,
"Harry, you and Shawn aren't the same sort of person. Besides, he might already have been expelled."
Harry said nothing. Suddenly, he felt that Ron might really not be someone worth befriending. He was far too petty.
Harry silently recalled some of the things he had just said to the Sorting Hat.
I clearly wanted to go to Slytherin, so why did the Sorting Hat say I was better suited to Gryffindor?
During the lake crossing, Harry had heard Hermione say that although Shawn was a pure-blood, he was also an orphan. He had likewise grown up in the Muggle world and had even lived on the streets. His childhood had been more miserable than Harry's own.
Yet Shawn had thrived in the Muggle world through his own abilities, and now that he had entered the wizarding world, he was proving just as extraordinary.
Hermione had also said that Shawn was going to Slytherin to change the minds of those potential dark wizards. It was a noble goal!
Harry felt that Shawn had become the person he himself wanted to be. Shawn was his role model.
He recalled Shawn's words to him once again: whether you became a good person or a bad one depended only on your own heart.
Harry had wanted to follow him into Slytherin and help him achieve his dream, but the Sorting Hat had placed him in Gryffindor instead.
"Ah."
Harry sighed, then suddenly noticed someone at the High Table watching him. Turning, he saw a grim-faced professor staring straight at him.
Pain shot through Harry's forehead, and he hurriedly covered it with his hand. Before he could think any further, ethereal, beautiful birdsong rang through the hall, followed by a dazzling flare of fire at the center of the High Table.
A moment later, Dumbledore and Shawn stepped out of the flames together. The entire hall instantly fell silent.
The atmosphere at the Slytherin table was particularly grim. Many of the bandaged students looked utterly miserable, as though they were mourning their parents.
Then the students from the other three houses burst into cheers. Harry excitedly rose to his feet and applauded too.
Dumbledore patted Shawn's shoulder.
"It seems you're quite popular. Everything has worked out just right. Off you go to be sorted."
Shawn nodded slightly and walked toward Professor McGonagall, meeting the applause and cheers with easy composure.
Professor McGonagall wore a complicated expression, but she also breathed a sigh of relief and motioned for Shawn to sit on the three-legged stool.
After sitting down, Shawn eyed the dingy, patch-covered hat in McGonagall's hands with some distaste.
Still, he refrained from suggesting that someone wash it. He had already attracted enough attention today. Any more would be overdoing it.
Once the Sorting Hat was on his head, a hoarse voice sounded above him.
"Boy, you've learned Occlumency quite well, but please open your mind. Otherwise, how am I supposed to sort you?"
Shawn's eyelid twitched. Ha. If I dared open my mind, never mind it discovering my transmigration and the system-what if the Sorting Hat found out about my talent for dark magic and shouted "Azkaban"? Now that would be amusing.
So he told the Sorting Hat bluntly,
"I'm going to Slytherin."
The Sorting Hat found this rather amusing.
"Oh ho, are you telling me how to do my job?"
"If that's what you think, sure. I'm a pure-blood, I'm ambitious, and I prize glory-showing off. Where else would I go but Slytherin?"
"Hmph. You expect me to do something just because you tell me to? Where would that leave my dignity? Aren't you afraid I'll put you in another house?"
Shawn felt exhausted. Even a battered old hat had to make trouble. He always ended up having to "win people over with virtue."
With a casual wave of his hand, a Blue Water Orb a meter across slowly formed out of thin air, then spun rapidly as it moved above the Sorting Hat.
At the High Table, Dumbledore's smiling eyes instantly narrowed. Countless thoughts flashed through his mind. When did my signature spell get out?
Professor McGonagall was even more dumbfounded. First astonished by Shawn's silent, wandless casting and magical talent, she then reprimanded him in a low voice, telling him to dispel the spell.
Shawn pretended not to hear her and began openly threatening the Sorting Hat.
"You battered old hat, if you send me to another house, I'll strip you of even more dignity. I could give you a bath, for instance. Fair warning: my water comes with an electric shock. Several dozen students on the train experienced it today. Want to give it a try?"
The Sorting Hat opened its mouth wide. Only after a long moment did it stammer,
"Ah, in over a thousand years, you're the first person to threaten me! I'm a relic of the Founders, extraordinarily precious, worth a fortune! Ah, stop, stop, stop right now..."
The Sorting Hat had wanted to show off a little, but the moment the spinning orb of water touched it, it lost its nerve and immediately shouted,
"Slytherin!"
At its announcement, the hall fell silent again. Well, not entirely-three people immediately jumped onto a table to celebrate.
They were Draco and his two useless henchmen.
"Ha! We've got Shawn!"
Shawn dispelled the spell, rose, and bowed slightly in apology to McGonagall, who was on the verge of erupting with anger. Then he headed toward the Slytherin table, giving Hermione a nod by the Ravenclaw Table along the way.
"What the hell? How did Shawn get sorted into Slytherin? He just completely humiliated those people!"
"Damn it, the Sorting Hat must be senile."
"..."
The other three houses erupted into another wave of complaints and regret, with all sorts of remarks flying around.
Draco excitedly jumped down from the table, pulled Shawn into the seat beside him, and began babbling.
"I thought you'd be expelled! My dad saved you, right? I just had an argument with those people you beat. You have no idea-I told them off so badly they didn't dare talk back. Now that you're here, everything's fine. We'll rule Slytherin together!"
Shawn could not even be bothered to comment on Draco's bragging, nor did he expose Malfoy's disappearing act.
Seeing that Shawn had settled into his seat, Dumbledore stood and tapped the silver goblet on the table, producing a clear chime.
The students in the Great Hall obligingly quieted down and turned their attention toward him, ready to hear the headmaster's speech.
"Another new year is upon us. This term, there are a few new points we need to address, especially for our first years..."
"Students are forbidden to sneak into the Forbidden Forest... If you do not wish to die an excessively painful and miserable death, please stay away from the fourth floor..."
"Finally, welcome to Hogwarts. I have just a few last words to say: nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
With that, he bowed slightly, then waved his hand.
The feast officially began. All sorts of England's signature "delicacies" appeared out of thin air on the previously empty tables.
Having gone hungry all day, the young witches and wizards eagerly dug in, happily eating with a chicken leg in one hand and a steak in the other.
Those at the Slytherin table ate somewhat more elegantly. The first and second years near Shawn actually admired him quite a bit and tentatively tried to make friends with him.
Beside him, Draco cut off a piece of steak with his knife and fork and put it into his mouth. Then he suddenly noticed that Shawn's utensils seemed different from his own. Why was he using a pair of little sticks?
No, even his dishes were different: golden meatballs, for instance, and a plate of grilled fish covered in all sorts of unfamiliar seasonings. Even his staple food was a bowl of milky-white rice.
"Shawn, what are you eating? Why is it different from ours?"
Shawn took a sip of tomato and egg soup before answering casually,
"Oh, I'm not used to British food, so I had my house-elf make China Cuisine especially for me."
Draco leaned over and sniffed. The delicious aroma filled his nose, and he swallowed.
"Can I try some, then?"
Shawn looked at the seven or eight Chinese dishes. Feeling that he could not finish them all alone anyway, he nodded his permission.
"Go ahead."
Draco excitedly speared a piece of Red-Braised Pork with his fork and popped it into his mouth. After a few chews, his eyes lit up.
Seeing Draco about to reach for more food with his saliva-covered utensils, Shawn felt thoroughly disgusted.
He quickly found a large plate, put a little of each dish on it, and left Draco to eat from that.
Draco thought nothing of it. His fork flew, and although several of the fiercely spicy dishes turned his face red, he kept eating these dishes he had never tasted before. He even chased Goyle and Crabbe away when they wanted to try some.
At that moment, he felt that all the expensive dishes he had eaten before were utter crap. No wonder Shawn had said he was not used to the food here. From now on, Draco would find it hard to get used to it too.
Just then, Alice walked over.
"Shawn, can I sit here? What is that you're eating?"