The candlelight in the Hogwarts Great Hall flickered in the pouring rain.
As Sagres followed Professor McGonagall into the hall, Peeves was hanging upside down over the Ravenclaw table, preparing to tip ink onto the seats.
He exchanged glances with Peeves, a faint smile playing on his lips, but Peeves froze, falling into the aisle like a frozen bat specimen.
Professor Flitwick was wiping dust from the Sorting Hat, the candlelight reflecting on his graying temples, and his blue and silver Ravenclaw tie pin gleamed faintly.
"Filius, your cufflink," Professor McGonagall reminded softly, waking up the dozing Mrs. Norris.
The small Charms professor covered his left sleeve, where a simple silver cufflink was slightly askew. He turned to look at the doorway, a surprised smile suddenly appearing on his wrinkled face. "Ah, Sagres!"
"Long time no see, Professor Flitwick." Sagres stepped forward quickly, extending both hands to shake hands with his former Head of House as he bowed.
In the corner, the usually expressionless Snape looked annoyed.
...
Candlelight flickered in the castle, and the torches on the walls cast dancing shadows. From a distance, the chatter of other students in the Great Hall could be heard.
The new students huddled together nervously, their robes carrying the chill of the night wind, some still trembling.
Professor McGonagall, dressed in an emerald-green robe, walked quickly down the marble staircase, holding a roll of parchment (the new student list). Her footsteps were crisp, and her robe fluttered behind her.
Upon reaching the steps, her sharp gaze swept over the crowd of new students, and the chatter instantly ceased, as if a Freezing Charm had been cast.
"Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term feast is about to begin, but before you take your seats and enjoy the delicious food, you must first undergo the Sorting Ceremony.
"The Sorting Ceremony will determine which House you will study in for the next few years. They are the brave Gryffindor, the loyal Hufflepuff, the intelligent Ravenclaw, and the cunning Slytherin.
"Each House has a proud and long history, and has nurtured countless outstanding wizards who have made significant contributions to the magical world.
"During your time at Hogwarts, your House will be like a warm home. Every excellent performance will bring glory to your House and earn points; any violation of the rules will tarnish your House and lead to point deductions.
"At the end of the year, we will tally the total points for each House, and the House with the highest score will win the House Cup—an unparalleled honor that every student dreams of."
"Now, everyone…" She waved her wand, its tip flashing with a silver light, signaling the new students to quickly form a neat single file. Then she commanded loudly, "Line up and follow me."
Before pushing open the Great Hall's massive oak doors, she paused slightly, turned to face the slightly pale new students, and softened her tone—though it still carried undeniable authority: "Don't be nervous. The Sorting Ceremony will not cause you any harm.
"You just need to put on the Sorting Hat, and it will keenly perceive your qualities and potential, then loudly announce the House to which you belong."
Her lips curved slightly upward, as if trying to inject a touch of warmth into the tense atmosphere, but soon, her serious expression returned like solid ice.
Then she turned and strode purposefully to the front of the line. The new students, filled with trepidation, followed closely behind her, entering the solemn and mysterious Great Hall.
The Great Hall was silent, thousands of eyes fixed on the new students.
Professor McGonagall placed a four-legged stool firmly at the front of the hall, and on the stool lay the tattered, patched, seemingly unremarkable Sorting Hat.
Then, she quietly stepped aside, her hands clasped across her chest, her gaze sharp as she supervised the entire Sorting process.
Just as the group of first-year students looked at one another, full of doubt, the old, cracked, and seemingly ordinary hat on the four-legged stool suddenly seemed to come to life and began to sing.
♫"Oh you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.~♪
~You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.♫
♫There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.♪
♪You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;♪
♫~You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
if you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folks use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"~~♫♪
After the Sorting Hat finished singing, Professor McGonagall stepped forward with the list of new students. "Now, the Sorting will begin. When I call your name, please come and sit on the chair."
"Hannah Abbott—"
A young witch nervously stepped out of the crowd and sat on the four-legged stool. Professor McGonagall then placed the ragged hat on her head.
"Hufflepuff!"
The Sorting Hat suddenly shouted from its crack-like mouth, and cheers immediately erupted from the Hufflepuff table.
Seeing this familiar scene, Sagres couldn't help but smile.
His memory drifted back to ten years ago, to his own first time at Hogwarts. At that time, Lord Voldemort had just fallen, and the scent of old oak and candle smoke in the Great Hall was no different from now.
The eleven-year-old him had walked toward the Sorting Hat, clutching a second-hand wand, his cuff still stained with coal dust from Knockturn Alley. The moment the hat was placed on his head, a sneering whisper from a Death Eater's son pierced through the Great Hall:
"Does a Mudblood deserve to hold a wand?" The sneer came from the Slytherin table, like the sound of a snake slithering across stone.
"Blood traitor…"
"Filthy half-blood…"
"He's not from our Greengrass family…"
Then all sounds faded, and the Sorting Hat's voice echoed in his mind.
"All right, let me see which House suits you…
Ah, you are full of ambition… but you disdain honor.
You are courageous… yet you scoff at recklessness.
You are loyal enough, and absolutely fair… but you also seem unable to tolerate laziness and mediocrity.
Oh yes, you possess excellent wisdom, but at the same time, an unparalleled arrogance and detachment lurk within you.
How strange—you possess the qualities of all four Houses, yet in your thoughts, you oppose each one.
This is a difficult choice…"
"Send me to Ravenclaw!"
"Ravenclaw? Well, it certainly suits you—though you may not necessarily suit it. But if you insist."
"Then—"
...
"Gryffindor!"
The Sorting Hat's voice snapped Sagres—seated at the Professors' table—out of his memories, followed by a wave of enthusiastic applause from the Gryffindor table.
Fuu~
He looked up and saw that the famous Harry Potter had been sorted into Gryffindor House.
The Gryffindor students looked delighted, and a pair of twins whistled and shouted, "We have Potter! Potter is ours!"
Sagres raised an eyebrow. It seemed the title of "Boy Who Lived" was very popular, even though the boy in question was still just an eleven-year-old child.
His gaze moved along the long table, eventually realizing that Potter was the bespectacled boy he had encountered on the Hogwarts Express.
Recalling the boy's reserved demeanor and worn-out glasses at the time, he immediately understood one thing—the boy clearly hadn't been living well in his Muggle family.
However, Sagres felt much more at ease.
He understood Dumbledore's reasoning. The Headmaster had sent the Boy Who Lived to the Muggle world not only for protection but probably for another reason as well.
After all, everyone in the British magical world had known Harry's name before he could even walk or speak.
This infant became famous for something he couldn't even remember. If he had remained in the magical world, he would have been surrounded by constant praise and attention.
In such an environment, what kind of person would the young Savior have become?
Probably an arrogant, conceited, and irritating one.
There were many such examples in pure-blood families, so Sagres felt that the Savior's current condition was actually quite acceptable; aside from seeming a bit lacking in confidence, he didn't appear to have any other bad habits.
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