-----
-----
The doors swung open immediately. A tall, black-haired witch in a vibrant green robe stood before them, her expression serious. From the looks of it, the Hogwarts staff seemed to be quite impressive. Augustus couldn't help but nod to himself, impressed by the sight of this professor.
"First-year students, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid announced.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I'll take it from here," McGonagall said.
Following Professor McGonagall, Augustus noticed the stone walls lined with blazing torches. The ceiling was so high that it was hard to see where it ended. Ahead was a grand marble staircase, leading up to the floors above.
As they walked along the stone-paved floor, Augustus could already hear the hum of voices coming from the right-hand door. It seemed the other students from different years had already arrived.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said. "The welcome feast is about to begin, but before you take your seats in the dining hall, we need to make sure each of you is sorted into your respective houses.
Sorting is an important ceremony because, during your time here, your house will be like your family at Hogwarts. You'll attend classes with other students from your house, stay in your house's dormitories, and spend time in your house's common room."
"There are four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own proud history and has produced many remarkable witches and wizards.
Throughout your time at Hogwarts, your performance will earn points for your house, while any rule-breaking will cost your house points.
At the end of the year, the house with the most points wins the House Cup, a prestigious honor. I hope each of you will represent your house with pride, no matter which one you are sorted into."
Augustus had already familiarized himself with the four houses long ago. His mother came from Ravenclaw, while his father was from Slytherin. But for Augustus, it didn't matter which house he ended up in; he believed neither of his parents would mind much.
"Now, tidy yourselves up. The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin, and I will come to get you when it's time," McGonagall instructed, her gaze briefly flicking over Neville's cloak (which was tied awkwardly under his left ear) and the dirt on Ron's nose before she turned and left the room.
Harry took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his nerves. He turned to look at Ron, who seemed just as nervous, Hermione, who was mumbling incantations under her breath as if preparing for a spell, and Augustus, who was still standing calmly in place. Suddenly, he didn't feel quite so anxious anymore.
"Do you think they can really sort us into the right house?" Ron asked, turning to Harry and Augustus. "Fred told me it's some kind of cursed test that really hurts, but I'm sure he was just messing with me." Ron's voice was a bit shaky.
Augustus, who had been admiring the various paintings and floating staircases around the castle, shrugged helplessly.
"Ron, it seems like your brothers really like to pull your leg. There's no way the school would set up a test that could hurt new students. That's the most basic rule."
"Yeah, I agree," Hermione chimed in. "If you look at the history of Hogwarts, you'll see that no first-year has ever been sent home injured before even starting classes."
Hearing Augustus and Hermione's words, Harry's anxiety, which had been rising from Ron's mention of the test, finally settled. "So... will we have to perform something?" Harry started to ask, but before he could finish, the door swung open again, and Professor McGonagall returned.
"Now, line up in single file," she instructed the first-year students. "Follow me."
Harry felt as though his legs had turned to lead, but strangely enough, he still found himself walking in line behind Augustus, with Ron behind him.
They left the room, passed through the entrance hall, and entered the grand dining hall through a pair of double doors.
The other students were already seated at four long tables, and thousands of floating candles illuminated the room.
Gleaming gold plates and goblets lined the tables. At the head of the hall, on a raised platform, was a long table for the teachers. McGonagall led the first-years over to the teachers' table, positioning them in front of the entire student body.
The flickering candlelight made hundreds of faces seem like pale lanterns. Ghosts also mingled among the students, their ethereal forms glowing faintly.
As Augustus entered the room, he immediately attracted attention. His calm, poised demeanor stood out among the nervous first-years. His striking golden hair and handsome face made him easily noticeable in the crowd.
Many students from different houses whispered and pointed at Augustus, while the girls occasionally cast him glances, their faces lighting up with delighted giggles.
But to Augustus, there was only one person in the room—the white-haired Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, sitting in the middle of the teachers' table.
To Augustus, the old man seemed like a massive ball of fire, radiating boundless light and warmth. A powerful magical aura filled the room, creating an irresistible presence. This was legend, and Augustus couldn't help but narrow his eyes in admiration.
It seemed that Dumbledore had noticed Augustus's gaze, as he looked over with a surprised expression. Then, a warm, kind smile spread across his face. Augustus smiled back before shifting his gaze away. Meanwhile, McGonagall was placing a tattered, patched-up hat on a four-legged stool.
Augustus stared at the shabby old hat, clearly recognizing it as a magical object of incredible power.
The room fell silent. Then, the hat moved. A wide slit appeared on its brim, opening like a mouth, and the hat began to sing:
You might think I'm not much to look at,But don't judge me by my cover,If you find a hat prettier than me,I'll eat myself, no bother.
You can make your top hats sleek and shiny,Or your tall hats smooth and neat,But I'm Hogwarts' sorting hat,And I'm beyond your hat's elite.
Any thought you hide inside your head,Won't escape my magic eyes,Put me on and I will tell,Which house you're meant to be by.
Maybe you belong in Gryffindor,Where bravery's deep inside,Their courage, boldness, and spirit,Make Gryffindor's name shine wide.
Maybe you belong in Hufflepuff,Where loyalty and fairness reign,Hufflepuffs are strong and honest,And they embrace hard work's gain.
If you're clever, you might find your place,In the wise old Ravenclaw,Where intelligence and wisdom shine,And smart folks meet their law.
Or maybe you belong in Slytherin,Where friendships are sincere,But beware, for cunning ones may scheme,To win at any cost, my dear.
Come try me on! Don't be afraid! Don't panic, don't you flee!In my hands (though I have no hands)You're completely safe with me,Because I'm the thinking hat you see!
Once the song ended, the room erupted in applause. The Sorting Hat bowed to each of the four tables, then fell silent.
"Quite a fascinating hat," Augustus clapped his hands, impressed.
"....."