The Sorting Ceremony continued. Professor McGonagall looked at the Weasley name on the list, and her lips twitched almost imperceptibly. The last pair of Weasley had given her a headache for years, and now another one had appeared.
Ron Weasley.
Ron was clearly nervous, fidgeting with her hands for a while before finally stepping forward. The Sorting Hat hovered over her head for about seven or eight seconds before shouting, " Gryffindor!"
Ron nearly jumped off the stool. George and Fred whistled and waved frantically at her from the long table. Ron ran to the long table, her face flushed, and her two brothers flanked her, ruffling her hair. The blush spread from her cheeks all the way to her ears.
" Hugo Granger."
Hugo's steps were fairly steady as he walked up, but the expression on his face clearly betrayed his nervousness. He was constantly worried about this strange Sorting Ceremony, wondering, "What if I get expelled?"
The Sorting Hat tapped the top of his head, hesitated for a moment—about three or four seconds—before announcing, " Gryffindor!"
Hugo pushed up his glasses, a hint of surprise on his face, but quickly a smile appeared on his face. He strode towards the Gryffindor table, Neville moved aside to make room for him, and Ron waved to him.
Then, Professor McGonagall read out the new name.
" Harry Potter."
After saying the name, McGonagall paused, her gaze lingering on Harry's face for a moment longer.
Clearly, she was recalling many things from the past. Harry's retreating figure as she walked towards the Sorting Hat overlapped with the silhouettes of Lily and James from years ago, leaving McGonagall momentarily disoriented.
This time, the Sorting Hat remained silent for an unusually long time, as if making a difficult choice. The entire Great Hall was so quiet that the crackling of the candlelight could be heard, and hundreds of eyes were fixed on the red-haired girl. After a long while, the Sorting Hat's voice finally rang out clearly and decisively throughout the Great Hall: " Slytherin!"
Silence. First, silence, as if someone had pressed the mute button. Then, whispers surged up from all directions like a tide.
At the Gryffindor table, someone wore an incredulous expression; anyone slightly familiar with the history of the Wizarding World knew the Potter Family's tradition.
Ron wasn't surprised, since Harry had mentioned it on the train.
Neville frowned, his lips moved but he didn't speak. He had heard his grandmother talk about the history of the Potter Family, especially the story of how his parents and the Potters died in the same place.
Hugo looked blankly at the chattering crowd, frantically searching through all his memories of the Potter Family, trying to find a reasonable explanation, but apart from a certain shampoo, he couldn't think of any more useful information for the time being.
Most books don't record the Dark Lord's history in detail, since there's no official statement that Dark Lord really died, and the authors were afraid of being held accountable!
A subtle silence also filled the area around the Slytherin table.
Although the Potter Family is indeed Pure-blood, for generations, members of the Potter family have almost never entered Slytherin; like the Weasley family, they are Gryffindor supporters.
Today's sorting results are just as impactful as when the Black family produced a Gryffindor.
In a way, Harry Quinn inherited it—her godfather is a father, after all.
After a long silence, Draco was the first to applaud. There was no deeper meaning behind it; it was purely out of a desire to show support since she knew the person.
But her surname is Malfoy, and when she clapped, the other Pure-blood families members subconsciously followed suit, their applause sporadic but managing to prevent the situation from becoming too awkward.
Harry stood up, walked calmly to the Slytherin table, and sat down next to Draco.
The reaction from the professors was equally significant.
McGonagall, Hagrid, Sprout, and almost all the other professors showed expressions of surprise.
Dumbledore, however, remained calm and even took a sip from the cup in front of him.
Herman noticed that Snape's lips curled up almost imperceptibly, a very slight curve that only Herman, who had been staring at him the whole time, could see.
Meanwhile, Herman finally heard his name called.
Herman Horace.
Herman composed himself and stepped through the crowd.
He could feel Draco's gaze fixed on him at the Slytherin table, filled with undisguised anticipation.
"I'm sorry, "Herman thought to himself. "Although you're very cute, I really don't want to go to that awful place, Slytherin."
They bully us all the time, form cliques, and we even live in the basement. The worst part is that Harry Quinn is such a devil! Even if I, Herman, am assigned to Azkaban today, I won't go to Slytherin!
Over in Gryffindor, Neville and Hugo were also watching him. Ron was too short and was blocked by George, so he simply stood up and craned his neck to look over.
Herman sat down on the stool, the Sorting Hat falling down and obscuring his vision.
The brim of his hat brushed against his forehead, carrying the distinctive scent of old fabric, and then a soft voice echoed in his mind, "Hmm... interesting. You're thinking about Ravenclaw, aren't you?"
Herman didn't say anything, but silently replied in his mind: Yes.
The Sorting Hat paused for a moment, as if savoring something, before slowly speaking, "But child, I don't see that curiosity about knowledge itself in you. Ravenclaw accepts those who delve into parchment in pursuit of truth."
But what about you? You study to make yourself safer, to accumulate resources, so that you can stand on high and look down on those who once fawned over you. This isn't the pursuit of knowledge; this is ambition.
Herman's heart skipped a beat.
"Your mind is very useful, but you use it to calculate, weigh, and scheme, not to question 'why the world is the way it is'," the Sorting Hat said with an undeniable certainty. " Ravenclaw is not for you."
"Then let's go to Gryffindor," Herman said, settling for second best.
"Are you brave?" The Sorting Hat ruthlessly pointed out the crux of the matter.
" Hufflepuff will do too," Herman continued to persuade.
The Sorting Hat chuckled softly. "Heh heh, this isn't a marketplace where you can pick and choose. There's only one place for you— Slytherin."
Herman gritted his teeth, mentally retorting: I'm not Pure-blood. Doesn't Slytherin only accept Pure-blood?
The Sorting Hat laughed, a laugh tinged with extreme mischief, "That was Slytherin's request, not mine. I Gryffindor; if I wanted, I could even sort a black child into Slytherin. Slytherin aren't going to crawl out of their graves and beat me up, are they?"
Herman was silent for a few seconds, then couldn't help but think to himself: This hat is just awful.
"Hey kid! I can hear what you're thinking."
"Can't we discuss this any further?" Herman made a final, internal struggle.
The thought of possibly sharing a lounge with Harry made him feel like he wouldn't be able to straighten his back for a while.