Chapter Thirty-Five: The Sorting Ceremony

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The young wizards passed through the towering oak doors and rounded the staircase, only to see Professor McGonagall waiting for them outside the Great Hall.

“Welcome to Hogwarts.” Professor McGonagall greeted each young wizard in turn and explained the important points. “In a moment, you will pass through those doors and meet your new classmates.”

“But before you take your seats, you must be assigned to your respective Houses...”

When McGonagall mentioned the Sorting Hat, every young wizard listened with rapt attention. Rog gazed at the professor with eager expectation. Hadn't she promised to return his wand once he enrolled?

...

“At the end of the year, the House with the most points will be awarded the House Cup.” Just as Professor McGonagall was about to finish, a croaking toad appeared sprawled on the steps. Neville recognized it at once as his missing Trevor.

“Trevor!” Overjoyed, he rushed forward and scooped up the little toad.

“How did you know?” Hermione stared at Rog in astonishment and asked in a low voice.

Elena, standing nearby, was equally curious. Could Rog possess the gift of prophecy?

“Don't look at me. I was only guessing.” Rog looked toward Professor McGonagall, as though asking, Where is my wand?

Seeing Neville's comical behavior, Professor McGonagall gave him a stern look, signaling that he should return to the line. The other young wizards burst into shrill laughter, mocking the awkward boy.

“The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin.” Professor McGonagall turned and walked away, completely ignoring the hopeful eyes of a certain someone.

“So the rumors on the train were true. Harry Potter really has come to Hogwarts...” Draco Malfoy stepped forward to ingratiate himself with Harry Potter, but his arrogant manner made Harry deeply uncomfortable.

Malfoy's mockery of Ron Weasley especially disgusted him. His conceit, his malicious attacks—all those flaws reminded Harry of the detestable Dudley. So when Malfoy extended his hand, Harry rejected it without hesitation.

Professor McGonagall noticed that the young wizards had not come inside and had no choice but to step out and see what was happening. She tapped Malfoy, who was blocking the doorway, with a rolled-up piece of parchment and urged him, “Are you ready? Everyone, follow me.”

Rog trailed behind them, opening and closing his mouth in silent protest. My wand! My dear Professor McGonagall!

When the great doors swung open, the Hogwarts Great Hall revealed itself before them. Stars glittered across the pitch-black ceiling like a genuine night sky. Rows of candles floated in midair, their light mingling with the flames burning in the wall sconces.

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Four long tables stood in neat rows throughout the hall, each crowded with students dressed in black school robes. A closer look would reveal that each table belonged to one of the four Houses.

Seeing their pointed hats, Rog could not help laughing. “The more I look at them, the more they resemble dressing gowns.”

At the staff dais at the far end of the hall sat Headmaster Dumbledore, his beard silver-white, with the other professors and teachers seated on either side of him.

“The ceiling here isn’t a real night sky. It only looks that way because it has been enchanted.” Hermione walked beside Elena, pointing up at the ceiling as she explained. “I read about it in Hogwarts: A History.”

“Miss Know-It-All, this ceiling was designed by Rowena Ravenclaw, the most learned of the four founders.” Rog smiled in admiration. “This isn’t merely a simple visual illusion. It is magic born of extraordinary intelligence and imagination.”

“The entire Hogwarts castle was the work of Lady Ravenclaw.” Rog repeated the name Ravenclaw again and again, hoping Hermione would remember it.

“Her mastery of space and Transfiguration must have been astonishing. In fact, the night sky here isn’t fake. It may even possess the power of prophecy.”

Combining this with his knowledge of the original story, Rog speculated, “If the future ever becomes uncertain, perhaps the ceiling will turn completely dark and cease to display the stars.”

Hermione wrinkled her nose and glared at Rog. Whenever he called her Miss Know-It-All, he launched an unrelenting barrage of knowledge against her—one she could never resist.

“How do you know Transfiguration was used?” Hermione asked sharply.

“An area this vast would certainly require spatial magic to seal it off, followed by Transfiguration... No, I was mistaken.” Rog shook his head and corrected himself. “I apologize, Miss Granger.”

He offered his apology with solemn sincerity. “At first, I thought Lady Ravenclaw used Transfiguration to adjust the positions of the stars in real time, keeping them aligned with the sky outside.”

“But in fact, it should be illusion magic.” Seeing Hermione’s confusion, Rog explained, “The Ancient Traces of Magic records this kind of ancient magic. It can render changes in real time. Put simply, it can project the corresponding changes in the sky without the slightest delay.”

Hermione nodded. She had never imagined that such profound mysteries lay behind the dazzling ceiling. She thanked Rog for his explanation, but she still could not forgive him for calling her Miss Know-It-All.

“That was sarcasm!” Hermione rolled her eyes at Rog and pulled Elena farther ahead.

Professor McGonagall led the first-years between the two rows of long tables and brought them to a footstool beneath the dais. An old, battered Sorting Hat rested there, its wrinkles layered with patches until it looked rather frightening. Everyone waited in silence. Then the Sorting Hat suddenly began to sing, describing the characteristics of the four Houses.

You may think I am not very handsome,

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But never judge a book by its cover,

...

For I am a thinking hat!

The teachers were accustomed to this annual performance and even applauded the Sorting Hat’s erratic singing. The first-years, meanwhile, were startled. How could a hat in the world possibly howl?

“Before we begin, Headmaster Dumbledore has a few words to say.” Professor McGonagall stood on the platform and gestured for the first-years to remain quiet.

“Before the term begins, I have a few announcements to make...”

“The first announcement has three major points, each of which contains three subpoints. Every item covers a different set of circumstances.” Listening to Dumbledore’s speech, Rog was reminded of the jokes about leaders giving speeches, and a smile crept across his face.

Unfortunately, Dumbledore was nothing like the speakers in those jokes. He seemed well aware of young wizards’ dislike of long-winded speeches and kept his remarks extremely brief. He merely emphasized, “Students are strictly forbidden from entering the Forbidden Forest.”

“Mr. Filch, the caretaker, also asked me to remind you that, if you do not wish to die, you must not enter the corridor on the right-hand side of the fourth floor.” Dumbledore shook his head, his solemn tone making it clear that he was not joking.

Knowing the events that would unfold during the school year, Rog could not help looking toward Snape and Quirrell, who were seated together. What an interesting arrangement. Perhaps Dumbledore had discovered the secret hidden on the back of Quirrell’s head from the very day he entered Hogwarts.

“For Harry Potter, our savior, Headmaster, you’ve certainly gone to a great deal of trouble.” Rog glanced at Harry, who was curiously taking in every detail of the hall.

“All this has been carefully prepared for your growth... and your eventual use as material.”

Professor McGonagall unfurled the long list of names and picked up the Sorting Hat. “When I call your name, step forward. I will place the Sorting Hat on your head, and you will then be assigned to your House.”

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