Born and raised in the wizarding world, Basil knew there was no such thing as actual "Nobility" among wizards.
The term "Pure-blood Aristocracy" was just like the "Beijingers with the heavenly mark" he heard about in his past life in the capital—pure snobbery with no legal basis.
But still, he didn't expect this.
He had heard one of the twin sisters mention that in the novels, Slytherins were often compared to trolls.
Since Harry Potter was originally written for children, the characters were quite stereotypical.
The villains in Slytherin were either pale and sickly, or huge and lumbering.
The female students were described as looking like pugs or being built like linebackers.
And the male students, aside from the rare exceptions like Malfoy, were mostly hulking figures compared to trolls.
But before today, Basil never believed it.
In his mind, Slytherin was the epitome of elegance and nobility.
However, thinking about it now... the fact that pure-blood families like the Malfoys and Blacks were listed in the Sacred Twenty-Eight might actually have something to do with their superior genetic aesthetics.
After all, among the pure-bloods of Slytherin, the Crabbe and Goyle types were the majority.
Basil guessed this had to do with their ancestors.
It seemed that due to the influence of magic, a wizard's physical traits—hair color, eye color, facial features, build—were much more easily inherited than Muggles'.
In medieval Europe, before the Statute of Secrecy was fully enforced and wizards went into hiding...
The power-hungry wizards—the proto-Slytherins—often held high status in the Muggle world too.
But their roles were usually limited to merchants, clergy, or knights.
Only a few, like the Malfoys, mingled with royalty and actual nobility, acting like courtiers.
The former group (knights/merchants) tended to be brawny or have the luxury of being fat.
The latter (courtiers), who never worked a day in their lives and stayed out of the sun, became pale and slender.
So, for these Slytherin pure-bloods, the long passage of time didn't just pass down magical traits like "Dark Arts Proficiency."
It also perfectly preserved the physical traits their ancestors acquired from their lifestyles.
"Basil Granger!"
The Sorting Hat's voice snapped him out of his anthropological musings.
Crap!
He missed it! He missed the Sorting of the Iron Throne's True Ruler—Hannah Abbott!
If his life were a fanfiction, he'd have failed right there for "impure bloodline/lack of meme knowledge"!
He casually put on the hat, which swallowed nearly his entire head. There was no internal dialogue this time.
A voice whispered in his ear, then suddenly shouted deafeningly for the hall to hear.
"Child, Gryffindor indeed has a big enough head for you."
"GRYFFINDOR!"
[Identity Updated: Hogwarts, Gryffindor, 1st Year (Daily Gems: 20)]
[Fire Spell Effect: +1%]
Ignoring the whispers from the students below...
Ignoring the cheers from the Gryffindors, especially Percy shouting, "I knew it! Where else would he go!"...
Ignoring the admiring gazes from Harry and the others, and even the ghosts who had watched the whole drama unfold...
Basil took off the hat and walked somewhat disappointedly to sit next to Hermione.
"Just 1%? Who cares?!"
"It's still just 20 Gems a day!!!"
"Aren't I the protagonist?"
"Why did it just dump me in Gryffindor instantly?!"
"I didn't even get to pretend to struggle!"
At that moment, a ghost wearing a ruff and tights floated over. He was pearly white and semi-transparent.
His outfit looked almost exactly like the [Midnight Phantom] skin from the game, just less dark blue.
"Child, you seem a bit disappointed."
"But your choice was undoubtedly the correct one."
Beside him, Hermione couldn't help but hug Basil's left arm again.
Basil discreetly pulled his arm out while sighing, "I originally thought Slytherin was excellent."
The ghost rolled his eyes. "Although Slytherin has won the House Cup for six years in a row! Even in Quidditch, ever since Charlie Weasley left, we haven't won once! But that's not excellence—that's cunning! That's insidious!"
Hermione was drawn into the topic. "But Hogwarts: A History says Gryffindor is the best House!"
The ghost looked smug, seemingly wanting to puff out his chest (or rather, his nearly-severed neck), but stopped himself.
"The book is entirely correct!"
"How so?" "Tell us!" Harry and Ron, who had been Sorted and seated nearby, asked curiously.
Neville didn't speak but pricked up his ears along with the other first-years.
The older students, however, all glanced knowingly at the red-headed twins and then at Snape on the High Table.
The ghost adjusted his ruff proudly. "Although our students do have a fondness for breaking rules... the reason Slytherin keeps winning is entirely due to their Head of House and Potions Master, Severus Snape. He always finds excuses to add points to his House and deduct points from Gryffindor. There has never been such a biased Head of House."
"I daresay even Phineas Nigellus Black, the most unpopular Headmaster in Hogwarts history, would be more popular than him if he came back to life."
"But it's not surprising. His name is Snape, after all. Snape—to be hard upon, to rebuke. Ha ha."
"What about our Head of House? Professor McGonagall!" Ron asked quickly.
He didn't get the ghost's bad pun.
But Basil's mind raced. "Snape? It comes from the Old Norse 'sneypa', meaning 'to outrage, dishonor, disgrace.' If I hadn't transmigrated, my English-failing self would never have known his name foreshadowed his life and personality."
"Just like Professor Cat-Lady. Minerva—the Roman name for Athena, the Goddess of Justice."
Meanwhile, the ghost gave his evaluation. "Her? She is an excellent Transfiguration teacher and Deputy Headmistress."
"Oh? She's not a good Head of House?" Seamus Finnigan, a boy with sandy hair, chimed in.
The ghost shook his head. "She is just impartial. Well... except when it comes to Quidditch."
Hermione nodded confidently. "That's what a good Head of House should be! With me and Basil here, the House Cup is definitely ours this year!"
The surrounding students looked at her in surprise, though the first-years didn't notice the tension.
In fact, while helping Neville find Trevor, Hermione had basically toured the entire train.
Whenever she saw someone who looked like a first-year, she'd gauge their level.
And then arrogantly mention that she had already successfully cast all the textbook spells.
Basil didn't realize Hermione had drawn so much aggro.
Even in front of some Slytherin snakes, she had bluffed her way through using the Granger name and her haughty attitude.
Basil assumed she was confident because she had recognized the skill level of his wandless, silent Stunning Spell.
So, he turned to the ghost again. "Is there a story behind that? The Quidditch thing."
The ghost looked nervously at Professor McGonagall on the High Table. But the curious and admiring gazes of the students around him made his mouth open automatically.
"I know this one. Actually, I saw it with my own eyes."
But his voice was drowned out.
Because the Sorting had ended. Professor McGonagall took the hat away.
Dumbledore stood up, gave his brief speech of gibberish—"Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"—and sat back down.
Thunderous applause filled the Hall.
In the blink of an eye, the empty golden plates on the table were piled high with food.
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