The Great Hall was brilliantly lit, with a ceiling like a night sky studded with stars; no candles hung there, yet thousands of points of soft light fell quietly, as if the entire night shroud had been moved into this thousand-year-old Castle.
Four long house tables were arranged along the walls, covered with tablecloths corresponding to the colors of their respective houses—
Gryffindor’s scarlet and gold, Hufflepuff’s bright yellow and black, Ravenclaw’s deep blue and bronze, and Slytherin’s interwoven silver and green.
Above each long table hung a massive house banner, the house crests on the fabric floating slightly in the soft firelight, ancient and solemn.
The air was filled with the scents of freshly baked bread, rich stews, sweet jams, and refreshing pumpkin juice, all mingling to create an aroma unique to Hogwarts that instantly put one at ease.
The Hogwarts Professors sat at the high table, the lamplight casting varying halos upon their robes.
In the very center sat Albus Dumbledore.
His silver hair and beard shimmered softly under the candlelight, and the eyes behind his half-moon spectacles were bright and gentle, carrying a smile that suggested he had seen the world yet remained kind.
He sat upright but did not appear stern; his entire being radiated a power that made people involuntarily relax.
Even just sitting quietly, he was like the stabilizing anchor of the Great Hall, silent yet impossible to ignore.
Professor McGonagall stood before all the freshmen, dressed in neat dark green robes, her expression serious yet not lacking in warmth.
On a three-legged stool before her sat a patched, frayed, and seemingly dilapidated old Wizard’s hat.
No one spoke; even the most mischievous freshmen subconsciously held their breath, their eyes fixed on that seemingly ordinary hat.
The next moment, the previously motionless old hat suddenly twitched, its wrinkled body rising and falling slightly as if stretching its limbs or gathering strength.
Without any warning, an ancient and sonorous song drifted out from deep within the hat, slowly echoing through the vast Great Hall:
You may not think I’m pretty,
But don’t judge by what you see,
If you can find a smarter hat,
I’ll eat myself, you’ll agree.
You can keep your bowlers black and shiny,
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 folk 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!
As the song finished, the Sorting Hat returned to its quiet state, resting peacefully on the stool as if that life-filled chant had never happened.
The Great Hall was silent for a moment, then erupted into thunderous applause that lasted for a long time.
At the high table, Dumbledore clapped gently, his eyes crinkling into two warm arcs, his smile full of gratification.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward and unfurled the long roll of parchment in her hand, clearly calling out the first name in alphabetical order by surname.
“Hannah Abbott!”
The young girl standing at the front of the line trembled slightly, took a deep breath, and tried to look composed as she walked quickly to the three-legged stool and sat down.
Professor McGonagall gently placed the Sorting Hat on her head, completely covering her eyes.
After only a few seconds, a clear and loud voice rang out from the hat:
“Hufflepuff!”
The table of yellow and black instantly erupted into enthusiastic cheers, and the Hufflepuff seniors clapped vigorously with warm, sincere smiles.
Hannah let out a huge sigh of relief, a faint smile appearing on her face.
She jogged toward her house table, subconsciously glancing back at the line toward Baelon Targaryen and giving him a small nod.
Baelon stood near the back of the line, his posture straight and his expression calm, showing no signs of nervousness.
He wore well-fitting black robes, his hair was neat, and his features carried a steadiness that didn’t quite match his age; since entering the Great Hall, he had attracted many curious glances.
Unlike the other freshmen, he didn’t look around in wonder or appear at a loss; he simply stood quietly, as if the surrounding clamor had nothing to do with him.
The line continued forward.
Several names in the middle were called in turn, with the Great Hall occasionally filling with applause or low murmurs of discussion.
Some were sorted into Gryffindor to enthusiastic cheers; some into Slytherin, met with cool and proud applause; and some joined the Hufflepuff table, immediately enveloped in a warm atmosphere.
Baelon stood quietly, his gaze fixed on the Sorting Hat ahead, though he had already made up his mind.
He wanted to go to Hufflepuff.
It was stable, inclusive, indifferent to one’s background or fame, and valued only sincerity and kindness.
Soon, Professor McGonagall’s voice rang out again.
“Hermione Granger!”
The brown-haired girl stepped out of the line with a steady pace, her back ramrod straight and her eyes serious and determined.
As soon as the Sorting Hat landed on her head, with almost no pause, it announced loudly:
“Gryffindor!”
The scarlet and gold table instantly erupted into a burst of enthusiastic cheers.
Hermione’s tense shoulders relaxed slightly, and she showed a faint smile as she walked quickly to her place.
As soon as she sat down, she was warmly greeted by the upperclassmen around her.
The roll call continued.
The torches on the walls flickered gently, stretching everyone’s shadows, and the atmosphere in the Great Hall was both tense and exciting.
“Draco Malfoy!”
The blonde boy walked out of the line with an arrogant expression, his chin slightly raised as if he were already certain of his destination.
The Sorting Hat had barely touched his hair when it immediately shouted the name:
“Slytherin!”
The silver and green table broke into a round of orderly, proud applause.
A smug smile curled on Malfoy’s lips as he walked over with his head held high.
As soon as he sat down, several other freshmen from prominent backgrounds leaned in to converse with him, their words full of praise for bloodlines and family.
“Neville Longbottom!”
The round-faced boy looked so nervous he was almost in tears, his hands tightly clutching the hem of his robes as he trudged forward.
The Sorting Hat hesitated on his head for a long time—so long that many people subconsciously held their breath—before finally issuing a somewhat difficult declaration:
“Gryffindor!”
The Gryffindor table immediately rang with encouraging applause.
Neville looked as if a great weight had been lifted.
He wiped his eyes and stumbled over, as if he had finally found a safe place to land.
The entire Great Hall gradually fell silent, and even the air seemed to freeze.
Everyone knew that the next name would be the most anticipated one in the entire hall.
Professor McGonagall’s voice was clear and steady as it rose in the silence:
“Harry Potter!”
In an instant, one could have heard a pin drop in the Great Hall of Hogwarts.
The black-haired boy stepped out from the line, his frame thin, yet possessing exceptionally bright green eyes.
The iconic lightning-bolt scar on his forehead was clear and prominent in the firelight.
Almost every eye was locked onto him; upperclassmen leaned forward, younger students widened their eyes, and even several Professors at the high table leaned in slightly.
Dumbledore still wore a smile, but the eyes behind those half-moon spectacles held a deeper gaze, as if he saw both the past and the future in this young boy.
The Sorting Hat was slowly placed upon his head.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
The long silence made people almost forget to breathe.
Finally—
“Gryffindor!”
A loud declaration pierced the silence.
The next moment, the Gryffindor table erupted in a mountain-shaking roar of cheers!
Students stood up one after another, pounding the tables and waving their arms, shouting at the top of their lungs:
“We’ve got Potter!
We’ve got Potter!”
The applause, cheers, and shouts nearly brought the roof down.
Harry was stunned for a moment, then broke into the most relaxed and genuine smile he’d had since coming to Hogwarts, running quickly into that boiling sea of red and gold.
At the high table, Dumbledore clapped gently, a flash of relief in his eyes.
He raised his chin slightly, looking toward the shimmering’starry sky’ at the top of the hall, as if silently communicating something.
The noise gradually subsided, and Professor McGonagall’s voice rose again, steady and clear:
“Baelon Targaryen!”
This time, the attention of the entire hall focused once more, moving from the Gryffindor table to the end of the line.
Baelon Targaryen walked slowly out of the line, his expression still calm and his pace steady and powerful.
Harry snapped out of his celebration and looked over curiously;
Hermione leaned forward slightly, her gaze filled with appreciation and expectation;
Neville clenched his fists nervously, as if cheering for this unfamiliar but steady boy;
Hannah sat up straight at the Hufflepuff table, her eyes full of gentle anticipation;
Malfoy narrowed his eyes with the scrutiny of a pure-blood noble, quietly sizing him up.
Even Dumbledore at the high table let his gaze fall gently upon the boy.
Those wise eyes narrowed slightly, as if he had instantly seen through the struggle and yearning in Baelon’s heart, yet he simply watched quietly without any extra expression, leaving only a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
Baelon sat down on the three-legged stool, and the Sorting Hat dropped gently, completely shrouding his vision.
The external noise, firelight, and gazes were all instantly cut off, leaving only boundless silence.
After a brief silence, an ancient, gentle, yet incredibly sharp voice slowly echoed deep in his mind:
“Ah…
Targaryen…
A very ancient surname, a very special soul.
I can see your heart—longing for stability, craving warmth, admiring courage, and loathing ostentation.”
Baelon spoke softly in his mind, his tone calm yet incredibly firm:
“I want to go to Hufflepuff.
It’s inclusive, gentle, and doesn’t care about background.
If not there, then Gryffindor.”
The Sorting Hat gave a soft ‘laugh,’ a sound devoid of mockery, containing only the understanding of one who sees all.
“Hufflepuff’s kindness, Gryffindor’s passion…
you are indeed suited for them, and you indeed long for them.
But child, I can distinguish between yearning and belonging.
You are not someone who will only accept warmth; you are someone who will wonder where the warmth comes from.
You are not someone who will only follow courage; you are someone who will judge what true bravery is.
You are calm, clear-headed, curious, and persistent; you are willing to pursue an answer to the very end, willing to see the essence within the mist.”
“I don’t want those things,” Baelon insisted in his mind.
“I only want peace and stability, without being noticed.”
“Wisdom was never meant to be used for being noticed,” the Sorting Hat’s voice was steady and beyond doubt.
“Ravenclaw is not just for flashy geniuses, but also for quiet seekers like you.
There are books there, and the starry sky, and thought, and answers.
You will find something there more lasting than stability—yourself.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“It is not up to you.”
The Sorting Hat gave him no more chance to hesitate, suddenly raising its voice to the entire Great Hall, declaring in its loudest, clearest tone:
“Ravenclaw!!!”
The blue and bronze table instantly erupted in enthusiastic and orderly cheers!
The Ravenclaw upperclassmen smiled and clapped, their eyes showing acceptance of their new companion.
Baelon was the last freshman tonight that the Sorting Hat had seriously’struggled’ over; this distinction had already been noted by everyone.
Baelon gently took off the Sorting Hat and placed it back on the three-legged stool, his face still showing no extra emotion, with only a faint, imperceptible trace of regret passing through his heart.
The place he had most wanted to go was clearly Hufflepuff, or perhaps Gryffindor.
But the Sorting Hat had still chosen a home of wisdom for him.
He walked slowly toward the Ravenclaw table and quietly sat down in an empty seat.
Several curious and friendly gazes immediately turned his way, but no one disturbed him excessively, maintaining a comfortable distance.
This perfect sense of boundaries was precisely the most charming aspect of Ravenclaw.
Not far away, Professor McGonagall read out the last familiar name:
“Ron Weasley!”
The red-haired boy was so nervous his palms were sweating.
The moment he sat down, the Sorting Hat shouted loudly:
“Gryffindor!”
A burst of cheerful applause rang out in the Great Hall again.
Harry patted Ron hard on the shoulder, and the two boys smiled at each other, all tension vanishing in an instant.
The Sorting Ceremony officially ended.
Dumbledore slowly stood up, and the Great Hall fell silent instantly.
Everyone’s gaze focused on the white-haired, white-bearded Principal.
He leaned forward slightly, his smile gentle and bright, his voice clear and powerful, reaching every corner of the Great Hall:
“Welcome!
Welcome to Hogwarts.
Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words: Nitwit!
Blubber!
Oddment!
Tweak!”
Many new students looked bewildered, but Dumbledore sat back down with a beaming smile, as if those nonsensical words were the most normal welcome speech in the world.
The Professors at the high table were used to it, while the students erupted into a low ripple of laughter.
Baelon was slightly taken aback, then immediately understood that this wasn’t nonsense, but a kind of tenderness only Hogwarts people understood—using the most absurd method to relieve everyone’s tension and anxiety.
Just then, accompanied by a slight ripple of magic, the empty dining tables were instantly filled with a feast of food.
The roast chicken was golden and crispy, the stew was rich and fragrant, the bread was soft and warm, the pumpkin juice shimmered softly in the goblets, and the desserts were a dazzling array; the entire Great Hall was filled with the warm aroma of food.
This was a magical banquet only Hogwarts could provide, appearing out of thin air and more abundant than one could imagine.
“Welcome to Ravenclaw.”
A soft greeting came from beside him.
Baelon turned his head and saw a gentle-looking boy wearing glasses, with a friendly smile on his face.
“I’m Anthony Goldstein, fifth-year Prefect,” the boy introduced himself softly.
“While you were being sorted just now, we were all guessing where you would go.
The Sorting Hat stayed on your head for a long time; that’s quite rare.”
Baelon nodded slightly.
“Baelon Targaryen.”
“Targaryen…” Anthony nodded thoughtfully but didn’t ask further.
He just smiled and pointed at the food on the table.
“Eat up, it’s not a short walk tonight.
The Ravenclaw tower is at the highest point on the west side of the Castle, and there are many stairs to climb.”
On the other side, a calm-looking boy with short black hair from the same year also nodded politely.
“I’m Michael Corner, in your year.
Welcome; our year’s Ravenclaw has gained another member.”
Baelon gave a soft “Mm” and picked up his knife and fork to dine quietly.
He didn’t eat much, his movements were composed, and he didn’t initiate conversation, yet he didn’t seem cold either.
When someone spoke to him, he responded gently; when no one spoke, he listened quietly.
His perfect sense of boundaries earned him some goodwill from the new students around him.
Not far away at the Gryffindor table, things were so lively they were almost boiling over.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat together, excitedly discussing the Sorting Ceremony, the Castle, and the upcoming magic classes.
Harry would glance toward Ravenclaw from time to time, full of curiosity about that composed new student.
He always felt that this boy named Baelon Targaryen possessed a loneliness that was similar to his own, yet completely different.
The Hufflepuff table was warm and harmonious.
Hannah Abbott waved at Baelon while eating dessert, her face full of pure kindness.
Baelon nodded slightly in response.
The Slytherin table was much quieter.
Malfoy spoke in low tones with several new students, occasionally glancing toward Ravenclaw with a complex look—scrutinizing, curious, but with no intention of approaching to disturb.
He could tell that Baelon Targaryen was not someone who enjoyed being crowded.
At the high table, Dumbledore dined while occasionally sweeping his gaze across the four long tables.
When his gaze fell on Baelon, it would linger for a moment, those wise eyes carrying a gentleness that was almost like foresight.
He seemed to already see that this boy would find his own path under the Star Tower of Ravenclaw.
The dinner slowly came to an end in a relaxed and warm atmosphere.
The food on the plates vanished automatically, the table returned to cleanliness, and Dumbledore stood up again.
This time, the smile on his face faded slightly, replaced by a serious and solemn expression.
The Great Hall fell silent instantly, even the sound of breathing becoming faint.
His gaze slowly swept the room, his voice clear, steady, and carrying an unquestionable gravity:
“Now, before you go to your dormitories, there are a few important words that must be made clear to you.”
“The Forbidden Forest is an area strictly off-limits to students within the Hogwarts campus.”
“I must emphasize that any student who takes chances and enters the Forbidden Forest without permission will face severe punishment.
The dangers there are far beyond your imagination.”
The Great Hall was silent as all the new students listened intently.
Dumbledore paused, his gaze becoming sharper, his voice low and clear, each word etched into everyone’s heart:
“Beyond that, please be sure to remember—”
“On the right-hand side of the third-floor corridor, there is a hallway that no student is permitted to approach this year.”
“Those who do not wish to suffer a painful and vain death should stay away from there.”
His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried a heart-stopping power, leaving the entire Great Hall in pin-drop silence.
All the new students held their breath.
Baelon also looked up slightly, his gaze calm, but he fixed this sentence firmly in his mind.
Dumbledore’s gaze softened again, and his tone relaxed:
“I believe that every student here is smart enough and rational enough not to touch those dangers.
Hogwarts will protect you, but the prerequisite is that you must also learn to protect yourselves.”
“Very well,” he raised his hand slightly, his tone returning to its previous gentleness.
“It is getting late.
Prefects of each house, please lead the new students back to the dormitories for a good rest.
Tomorrow will be the day classes officially begin.”
As his voice fell, the Prefects of each house stood up one after another, preparing to lead the new students to their respective house dormitories.
Anthony Goldstein walked up to the Ravenclaw freshmen with a gentle smile.
“Alright, new students, follow me.
Don’t fall behind.
Hogwarts at night isn’t as quiet as it looks.”
Baelon stood up and, along with Michael Corner