Draco was furious at being completely ignored by Harry.
Ron, standing beside him, suddenly snorted with laughter, instantly drawing Draco’s attention away from Harry.
“You think my name’s funny, do you?
I don’t need to ask yours.” “Red hair, second hand robes, you must be a Weasley.” “Harry.” Draco turned back to him and said haughtily, “You’ll soon find that some wizarding families are simply better than others.” “Pfft.” The moment Draco finished speaking, another laugh came from nearby.
Draco whirled around furiously.
Again?
First one person, then another.
Was this ever going to end?
“You bloody savage!
What are you laughing at?” Witt asked teasingly, “Mr Draco Who’s Better Than Everyone, are you about to go and tell your father?” Then, imitating Draco’s tone from earlier, he cried dramatically, “I’m going to tell my father!” A wave of laughter immediately broke out among the surrounding first-years.
Draco flushed with rage.
He yanked out his wand, ready to settle things with Witt once and for all.
Before he could do anything, however, McGonagall pushed open the door and walked in.
She tapped Draco on the shoulder.
Under her severe gaze, Draco reluctantly put away his wand and returned to the line.
“Is everyone ready?
Follow me.” The doors to the Great Hall swung open, and the first-years filed inside.
Hundreds of candles floated high above them, while flaming torches along the walls filled the vast hall with warm light.
Witt gazed around appreciatively.
“I didn’t expect it to look this nice inside.
It’s only terrifying from the outside.” McGonagall walked to the front and clapped her hands for the first-years’ attention.
“Everyone, remain where you are.
Headmaster Dumbledore would like to say a few words.” The headmaster.
A few words.
Witt knew exactly where this was going.
Apparently even magic schools couldn’t escape speeches from the headmaster.
He instantly lost all interest and quietly pulled Lily into a whispered conversation.
To his surprise, barely half a minute later, Dumbledore had already finished and sat back down.
McGonagall brought out a battered old hat and began reading the first-years’ names.
“Hannah Abbott.” One young witch or wizard after another was Sorted into the four Houses.
The group waiting at the front gradually thinned, until Lily, who had originally been standing near the back, finally came into view.
At the staff table, Snape had been resting his chin on one hand while watching Harry.
Then, by sheer chance, his gaze passed over a figure he had dreamed about for years.
Snape shot to his feet.
Every student and professor in the Great Hall immediately turned towards him.
“Professor Snape.” McGonagall looked over with mild displeasure.
“Please sit down.
Do not interrupt the Sorting Ceremony.” “Lily Evans.” !!!∑(ﾟДﾟノ)ノ Snape, who had only just sat down, almost sprang to his feet again.
Her face.
Her name.
Her little mannerisms.
And those emerald green eyes.
Everything was exactly the same as the Lily in his memories.
At that moment, Snape’s entire attention locked onto Lily.
As for Harry?
Sorry.
Snape no longer had even the slightest interest in sparing him another glance.
“Gryffindor!” As the Sorting Hat’s voice rang through the Great Hall, Snape felt as though he had been dragged twenty years into the past.
That day, Lily had been Sorted into Gryffindor.
And he had gone to Slytherin.
That day, fate had played a cruel joke on him.
Snape was still lost in his memories when McGonagall’s voice suddenly sounded again.
“Severus Snape.” ?
Snape instinctively stood up and gave McGonagall a bewildered look.
This time, McGonagall turned towards him with an expression of helplessness.
“Professor Snape, I wasn’t calling you.” Before Snape could even sit down again, another figure emerged from among the first-years waiting to be Sorted.
A figure so familiar that seeing him felt almost alien.
A young Severus Snape.
Professor Snape’s face turned ghastly.
Ignoring the stares from everyone around him, he pulled out his wand and cast a Counter-Spell on himself.
He suspected that someone had placed him under an Illusion Charm.
Otherwise, how could he possibly be seeing a young Lily and a young version of himself at the 1991 Sorting Ceremony?
Worse, they were somehow in the same year as Harry Potter.
Someone is playing a trick on me.
Fury burned inside Snape.
“Professor Snape.” Dumbledore turned towards him and spoke gently.
“Please sit down.
No one has cast a spell on you.” Snape stared at Dumbledore for several seconds before reluctantly lowering himself back into his chair.
His Counter-Spell really hadn’t done anything.
Of everyone present, Dumbledore was probably the only wizard powerful enough to cast something that Snape himself couldn’t dispel.
But surely Dumbledore wouldn’t do something like this.
Would he?
Snape wasn’t entirely certain.
Today’s Sorting Ceremony had shattered the dead calm that had settled over his heart.
Ever since Lily’s death, he had never lost control of himself as badly as he had tonight.
He had barely sat down when the Sorting Hat suddenly shouted, “Slytherin!” “No!” Snape’s sharp voice rang across the Great Hall.
“He can’t go to Slytherin!” “Professor Snape, calm yourself,” Dumbledore said quietly.
Then, using magical voice transmission, he added so that only Snape could hear, Come to the Headmaster’s office afterward.
I’ll explain everything.
For now, please do not interrupt the Sorting Ceremony again.
Dumbledore’s words gradually calmed Snape.
He looked around at the students staring at him in astonishment, then silently lowered his hand.
His gaze returned to Lily.
Snape didn’t care in the slightest about embarrassing himself.
Right now, he wanted only one thing.
For everything happening before his eyes to be real.
Not an illusion.
So completely was Snape’s attention fixed on Lily that he failed to notice a peculiar gaze resting on him.
Witt was studying Professor Snape with great curiosity.
That greasy haired, miserable looking bastard is actually a Hogwarts professor?
And he seems to know Lily.
While Witt was still wondering about it, he suddenly heard McGonagall call his name.
“Witt Cress.” “Coming!” Witt hurried forward, and Professor McGonagall lowered the Sorting Hat onto his head.
“Hmm…
a strange student,” the Sorting Hat murmured.
Witt wasn’t particularly interested in answering any questions from the Hat.
Instead, he whispered, “Mr Hat, I can feel something hard pressing against me.” “Could you put it away?” “You can feel it?” the Sorting Hat asked curiously.
“What is it?” Witt asked, confused.
“Although…
it seems to be gone now.
Did you put it away?” “Apparently that was an accident,” the Sorting Hat muttered.
“What accident?” “Never mind that.
Let me think about which House would suit you best.” “I’ve heard about you from Dumbledore.
Brave and impulsive, clever with a touch of cunning…
Oh, my.
The wizarding blood in you is among the purest I’ve ever encountered.” “Perhaps Slytherin would suit you better.” “I want Gryffindor.” “Are you certain?” the Sorting Hat asked seriously.
“Slytherin could help you achieve great things.” Witt answered without hesitation, “I just watched an idiot whose only talent is shouting for his father get Sorted into Slytherin.
I don’t want to go there.” “Very well.
Since you can feel that, then it had better be, GRYFFINDOR!” The moment the Sorting Hat shouted the result, applause broke out from the Gryffindor table.
Witt climbed down and naturally took the seat beside Lily.
Compared with the deafening cheers that had greeted Harry Potter when he was Sorted into Gryffindor, Witt received only a brief round of applause.
The only unusual thing was that Dumbledore seemed to be clapping a little more enthusiastically for him than he had for the other students.
He looked extremely pleased with the result.