Even the strong-nerved Hermione was like this, let alone anyone else.
The first years had expected to face the scrutiny of the older students, but Professor McGonagall instead led them into a small, empty room at the other end.
This gave everyone a brief chance to catch their breath.
But this "small, empty room" was really far too small.
The room was cramped, with a few old, yellowed paintings hanging on the walls, dark rust edging their frames.
The first years crowded inside, shoulders rubbing together, barely able to turn around.
The air mingled with nervous breathing and the faint smell of sweat, leaving them inexplicably restless.
Professor McGonagall stood at the front of the room, her expression as stern as ever.
Her gaze swept over them, and the room, which had been filled with whispers, immediately fell silent.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said. "The start-of-term feast is about to begin, but before you enter the Great Hall to eat, we must first determine which house each of you will enter."
She paused, letting those words settle in everyone's minds.
"The Sorting is a very important ceremony," Professor McGonagall continued, "because during your time at school, you will attend classes with your housemates, rest together in your dormitories, and spend your free time together in your common room."
"So choosing your house is very important. For example, if you have a certain personality and are placed in another house, you may struggle to fit in."
"So think carefully and choose your houses well."
At this point, Professor McGonagall briefly introduced the four houses. "There are four houses at this school: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has produced outstanding witches and wizards. During your time at school, good conduct can earn your house points, while the opposite will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the highest score will win the House Cup."
"So whichever house you are sorted into, I hope you will work hard to win the House Cup for your house."
Having finished explaining the Sorting and the House Cup, Professor McGonagall reminded the students to check their appearance. "The Sorting Ceremony will begin shortly. Make sure your school robes are tidy and your hair is properly combed."
Draco took a small silver mirror from his pocket, checked his reflection, and nodded in satisfaction, thinking, Can't let my hair get messed up.
Pansy immediately leaned over, using Draco's mirror to tidy her hair before gently smoothing the creases in her school robes.
Her movements were so elegant that she seemed to be standing before her own dressing table rather than in a crowded little room.
Professor McGonagall glanced over them and said, "Stay here and keep quiet. Once everything is ready over there, I will come and fetch you."
With that, she turned and left the room. The wooden door closed gently behind her, shutting out some of the noise outside, but making the silence within even more noticeable.
Draco sighed helplessly. Waiting while crammed into such a tiny room was truly unbearable.
The air was stagnant, there were too many people, and even each breath tasted stuffy.
Just then, a voice broke the silence.
"The Sorting Hat... how exactly does it decide where to put us?"
Harry asked with a slight hesitation in his voice.
His unease made his voice a little louder than usual, and it reached everyone's ears clearly.
The question was like a stone tossed into stagnant water, sending invisible ripples through the room.
The next second, a cold female voice, laced with undisguised mockery, sliced through the still air like a blade.
"Merlin, has no one told you?"
Pansy Parkinson turned sideways, her chin raised high enough for her to look down on half the first years in the room.
She did not look at Harry, yet her gaze struck him with the precision of a hawk's.
"The Sorting Hat is an ancient, powerful magical object with a mind of its own," Pansy said with a trace of sarcasm. "It can see into your head and read your nature, your ambitions, and your deepest desires."
The silence in the room suddenly changed.
What had been nervous quiet became a taut, hostile silence.
"Shut up!"
Ron Weasley's face instantly turned the same color as his hair. He spun around, his chest heaving with anger.
"Do you think everyone's like you, taught every day how to look down their nose at people? Harry's question is a hundred times better than your disgusting, prejudiced rubbish about 'people's true nature'!"
Hermione, too, had turned around almost the instant Pansy finished speaking.
She looked at neither Ron nor Harry. Her sharp brown eyes locked directly onto Pansy, as though she were dissecting an arithmetic problem riddled with errors.
"Miss," Hermione began very calmly.
"Showing off that you know a little more common knowledge than someone else doesn't make you look any cleverer."
"Harry's question is perfectly reasonable."
"Besides, the Sorting Hat's criteria are far more complicated than your simplistic 'nature, ambitions, and desires.' It takes courage, intelligence, loyalty, fairness, and-"
"Oh, look," Pansy interrupted with a sneer, deliberately addressing the Slytherin first years beside her. "This young lady can't wait to give us a lesson. Unfortunately, the hat doesn't care who can memorize books the fastest."
At the doorway, Professor McGonagall's figure had become more clearly visible at some point.
She said nothing, but her stern gaze had already swept over the center of the commotion like a searchlight.
After surveying the entire room, Professor McGonagall said in an authoritative voice, "Keep quiet."
Her voice was not loud, yet it instantly extinguished every stray sound in the room. "Wait for the Sorting."
Pansy immediately shut her mouth, but the cold, triumphant smile on her face did not disappear.
She even smoothed her already immaculate hair with an elegant gesture.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she cast an almost imperceptible glance toward the blond boy standing diagonally ahead of her.
From the Great Hall beyond the oak door came faint singing and applause, along with the clear clinking of tableware, a sharp contrast to the tense atmosphere in this little room.
But inside the room, the cracks carved by those few words had already etched themselves deep into many first years' hearts.
The colors of the four houses had yet to be assigned, but invisible boundaries had already quietly formed beneath the shadows of stone walls untouched by moonlight, as the first true burst of malice erupted.
The Sorting Hat's song had yet to begin, but some things had already been sorted.
Having stopped the commotion, Professor McGonagall turned and left the little room again.
The wooden door closed softly, and the room returned to that oppressive silence, now tinged with emotions that were difficult to put into words.
After Professor McGonagall left, Goyle edged fearfully up to Draco and asked quietly, "Oh... seeing into our heads... that sounds a bit scary."
He seemed terrified by Pansy's explanation.
Vincent nervously touched his own head as well and said, "It... won't go blabbing, will it?"
This startled Goyle even more, and he hurriedly asked Draco, "Boss, is there any way to stop it? I used to love bullying people. Won't it find out?"
"Pfft-"
Someone could not help laughing, and several others soon lost their composure too, filling the room with quiet laughter.
Draco was left speechless by the big lug, Goyle, while everyone else looked bewildered too.
Now that he had said that, everyone knew. Who needed a Sorting Hat?
But Goyle's interruption made the tense atmosphere considerably lighter.
Every so often, someone muttered, "It won't spill all the embarrassing things I did as a kid, will it?"
"If it tells everyone I wet the bed, I'm dropping out."
"I have a way," Draco suddenly said.
Everyone's curiosity was immediately piqued, and all eyes turned toward him.
Vincent asked in shock, "R-really? Boss, what is it...?"
"Learn Occlumency," Draco said casually. "It's an advanced spell."
"But I don't think anyone here has mastered it."
"Pfft-"
Everyone let out a chorus of dismissive jeers.
"That's it? What a load of crap!"
"And here I thought you actually knew a way!"
Most of them reacted like this, but Hermione was different.
Her brows knitted tightly, and a flicker of genuine surprise crossed her eyes.
She had seen that term in a book about advanced defensive magic.
Occlumency? The ultimate art of defending against Legilimency... how did he know about it? And how could he mention it so casually?
Goyle asked again, "Then, Boss, do you know this Occlu-whatever?"
Draco glanced at him. "What do you think?"
Goyle froze completely, his mouth hanging slightly open, his mind evidently stalled by this almost philosophical question in return.
He looked at Draco, then at Vincent, trying to find an answer on his companion's face.
In the end, he could only say, awkwardly and tentatively, "I-I think... Boss, you... must know?"
Vincent nodded vigorously. "Right, right! Boss knows everything!"
"He definitely knows!" Lavender launched into her romantic fantasies again. "But he won't say, because it's secret knowledge belonging only to the night and the shadows... that's so, so charming!"
Hearing Lavender sing Draco's praises again, Ron complained to Harry, "Hear that? 'What do you think?' Merlin's smelly socks! What can he do besides put on airs? If he really knew some 'brain constipation,' he ought to use it right now to 'close off' all those twisted, vain thoughts in his head instead of letting them out to scare people!"
Faced with Ron's sarcasm, everyone wanted to see Draco's reaction.
But like Hermione, Draco chose to ignore it.
Draco merely shook his head and said slowly, "I'm only a first year..."
He stopped abruptly, leaving everyone room to imagine the rest.
Ron wore a disdainful expression that said, "Just as I thought," and muttered to Harry, "See? Told you."
Draco continued, "It doesn't matter if you don't know Occlumency, because the Sorting Hat signed a confidentiality agreement. It can't leak anything, or it would lose everyone's trust. Nothing's gone wrong in all these years."
"A confidentiality agreement?"
The room froze for a second, then erupted into laughter.
Pansy promptly burst into a short, shrill, but delighted laugh as well, covering her mouth with her sleeve. "Oh, Draco! A confidentiality agreement! Merlin, what an idea! Though... you do have a point!"
Ron turned to Harry and said incredulously, "A confidentiality agreement? Does he think the Sorting Hat's a goblin from Gringotts? Signing contracts and everything?!"
Harry was taken aback as well, then felt a little like laughing.
The explanation was so absurd, so "Muggle," yet it carried a strange persuasiveness.
Now the tension rapidly drained away like air from a punctured balloon.
Many faces showed confusion, amusement, or sudden understanding.
"A confidentiality agreement... that actually sounds about right."
"No wonder no one's had their secrets spilled."
"That hat's pretty professional."
Quiet, relaxed chuckles and chatter filled the little room, sweeping away the earlier gloom.
Just then, the wooden door was pushed open again.
Professor McGonagall walked in, her expression as stern as ever. "Now, form a single line and follow me."
Everyone's heart tightened-they all knew the Sorting was about to begin.
Each of them was a little nervous, silently praying, Please don't let me be picked first.