The candlelight in the Hogwarts Great Hall flickered in the pouring rain. As Sargeras followed Professor McGonagall into the Hall, Peeves was hanging upside down over the Ravenclaw long table, preparing to pour ink onto the seats.
He and Peeves exchanged glances, a faint smile playing on Sargeras's lips, but Peeves froze, plummeting into the aisle like a frozen bat specimen.
Professor Flitwick was wiping dust off the Sorting Hat, the candlelight reflecting on his greying temples, and his Ravenclaw blue and silver tie pin shimmered slightly.
"Filius, your cufflink," Professor McGonagall reminded softly, startling Madam Norris from her nap.
The small Charms Class Professor covered his left sleeve; a plain silver cufflink was askew. He turned to look at the doorway, a look of pleasant surprise suddenly appearing on his wrinkled face: "Ah, Sargeras!"
"Long time no see, Professor Flitwick," Sargeras said, quickly stepping forward and extending both hands to shake the hand of his former Dean while bending at the waist.
In the corner, the usually expressionless Snape now wore a look of annoyance.
——————
Candlelight flickered inside the Castle, and the torches on the walls cast dancing shadows. From a distance, the clamor of other students in the Great Hall could be heard.
The first-years huddled together nervously, their robes carrying the chill of the night wind, some of them still trembling.
Professor McGonagall, dressed in emerald green robes, with a solemn expression, held a roll of parchment (the list of first-years) and walked swiftly down the marble staircase, her footsteps crisp, her robes swirling behind her.
Upon reaching the steps, her sharp gaze swept over the crowd of first-years, and the noise 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 just Hufflepuff, the wise Ravenclaw, and the cunning Slytherin.
"Each House has a long and proud history, and has nurtured countless outstanding Wizards who have made exceptional contributions to the magic 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 rules or discipline will tarnish your House's reputation and result in points being deducted.
"At the end of the year, we will tally the total scores of each House, and the House with the highest score will win the House Cup—this is a supreme honor, something every student dreams of."
"Now, everyone…" She waved her wand, its tip flashing with a silver light, signaling the first-years 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, turning to face the slightly pale first-years. Her tone softened somewhat, but still carried an undeniable authority: "Don't be nervous; the Sorting Ceremony will not harm you in any way.
"You only need to put on the Sorting Hat, and it will keenly perceive your qualities and potential, then loudly announce the House you belong to."
The corners of her mouth curved slightly upward, as if trying to inject a touch of warmth into the tense atmosphere, but soon, her stern expression returned like solid ice.
Then, she turned and strode confidently at the front of the line, while the first-years, with anxious hearts, followed closely behind her, entering the solemn and mysterious Great Hall.
The Great Hall was silent, thousands of eyes fixed on the first-years. Professor McGonagall steadily placed a four-legged stool at the front of the Great Hall. On the stool rested the tattered, patched, seemingly unremarkable Sorting Hat.
Then, she quietly stepped aside, her hands clasped across her chest, her gaze sharp, supervising the entire sorting process.
Just as this group of first-years were still exchanging confused glances, the worn-out hat on the four-legged stool, with a crack in it and looking utterly ordinary, suddenly seemed to come alive and began to sing.
"You may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge by 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.
…
Oh, you may be brave and true,
Or loyal and just and kind,
Or clever and witty and wise,
Or cunning and ambitious and sly.
But no matter what you are,
The Sorting Hat will know,
And you will be sorted into
The House where you belong.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
Don't panic!
In my hands (though I have no hands)
You are absolutely safe,
For I am a thinking magic hat!"
After the Sorting Hat finished singing, Professor McGonagall stepped forward with the list of first-years. "Now, the sorting will begin. When I call your name, please come and sit on the stool."
"Hannah Abbott—"
A small Witch nervously stepped out of the crowd and sat on the four-legged stool, while Professor McGonagall placed the tattered hat on her head.
"Hufflepuff!"
The Sorting Hat suddenly shouted from its crack-like mouth, and a cheer immediately erupted from the Hufflepuff long table.
Seeing this familiar scene, Sargeras couldn't help but smile.
His memories also returned to ten years ago, to his first time at Hogwarts. At that time, Lord Voldemort had just fallen, and the Great Hall's old oak and candle smoke smelled no different from now.
Eleven-year-old Sargeras, clutching a secondhand wand, walked towards the Sorting Hat, his cuff still stained with coal dust from Knockturn Alley. The moment the Hat settled on his head, the sneering whisper of a certain Death Eater's son pierced through the Great Hall:
"A Mudblood dares to hold a wand?" The sneer came from the Slytherin long table, like the sound of a snake slithering across flagstones.
"Blood traitor..."
"Filthy half-blood…"
"He's not part of our Greengrass Family…"
Then all sounds vanished, and the Sorting Hat's voice appeared in his mind.
"Alright, let me see which House suits you…
Ah, you are full of ambition… but you disdain honor.
You possess courage… yet you scorn recklessness.
You are loyal enough, and absolutely just… but you also seem unable to tolerate laziness and mediocrity.
Oh, yes, you possess extraordinary wisdom, but at the same time, an unparalleled arrogance and aloofness lurk within you.
How strange, you possess the qualities of all four Houses, yet in your thoughts, you contradict every single one.
This is a difficult choice…"
"Send me to Ravenclaw!"
"Ravenclaw? Well, it certainly suits you, though you may not necessarily suit it, but since you insist."
"Then— "
"Gryffindor!"
The Sorting Hat's voice roused Sargeras from his memories at the Professor's table, followed by enthusiastic applause from the Gryffindor long table.
He looked up and saw that the famous Harry Potter had been sorted into Gryffindor. The Gryffindor students seemed very happy; a pair of twins even whistled and shouted: "We've got Potter! Potter's ours!"
Sargeras raised an eyebrow. It seemed the title of Savior was very popular, even though the boy was only eleven years old.
His gaze roamed over the long table and finally found that Potter was the same bespectacled boy he had met on the Hogwarts Express.
Recalling the boy's reserved demeanor and worn-out glasses at the time, he immediately understood one thing—the boy was clearly not doing well in his Muggle family.
However, Sargeras felt quite relieved.
He understood Dumbledore's reasons for doing so back then. The Headmaster sent the Boy Who Lived to the Muggle world, besides protecting him, there was probably another intention.
After all, everyone in the British magic world knew Harry's name at that time, even when he couldn't walk or talk.
This infant became famous for something he couldn't even remember. If he had stayed in the magic world, he would have been immersed in immense fame every day.
In such an environment, what kind of person would the young Savior become?
Probably an arrogant, insufferable nuisance.
There were many such examples among pure-blood families, so Sargeras felt that the Savior's current appearance was quite good; apart from looking a bit unconfident, he didn't seem to have any other bad habits.