“Speaking of which, Lorin, Beauxbatons doesn’t sort, does it?”
“Of course, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.
The student population at Beauxbatons wouldn’t permit a sorting ceremony anyway.”
Lorin poked a bit of gentle fun at his alma mater, but Albus Dumbledore still asked thoughtfully:
“Then what are your thoughts on Hogwarts’ Sorting Ceremony, Administrator Lorin?”
“Does the Headmaster wish to hear the truth?”
“Naturally.
Speak your mind.”
“Well…”
Lorin pondered for a moment.
Professor Filius Flitwick and Professor Sprout immediately perked up their ears.
Professor Severus Snape’s head also tilted toward Lorin from time to time.
Even Professor Quirrell, whose head was wrapped in a massive white turban, couldn’t help but lean in secretly.
“The Sorting Ceremony does indeed provide a growth environment better suited to the young wizards’ traits.”
“However, as far as I know, perhaps Slytherins can also be brave and chivalrous, and Hufflepuffs can be highly knowledgeable.”
“Prematurely labeling children does nothing but heighten the environmental prejudices they experience and widen the divide between the houses.”
“Utter nonsense!”
The moment the professor in the Muggle jacket spoke, Albus Dumbledore gently stopped her:
“Charity, calm down.”
“We should welcome a new, and quite likely beneficial, perspective, shouldn’t we?”
“I actually think Lorin has a point.”
“Indeed, Lorin.
Many times, I truly feel like I’m conversing with a learned professor…”
“Just a humble opinion.
I am, after all, only a castle administrator.”
Lorin nodded politely to the staff on both sides and fell silent.
Because the young wizards were about to begin the Sorting Ceremony!
Although curious about what had just transpired at the staff table, the other students quickly quieted down as well.
This was an exciting moment, and no student at Hogwarts wanted to miss it.
Under the astonished gazes of the first-years and Lorin’s amused scrutiny, an old, battered wizard’s hat on a four-legged stool suddenly ripped open a wide tear near its brim:
“You may not think I’m pretty,”
“But don’t judge on what you see,”
…
“Quite an interesting hat.”
Lorin looked at the ancient, battered wizard’s hat, clearly harboring a desire to study it.
“Isn’t it, Lorin?
That is our Hogwarts Sorting Hat.”
Professor Sprout smiled and introduced it to Lorin: Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
“It can read the young wizards’ minds, sorting them into houses based on their qualities…”
Even though he already knew the Sorting Hat’s function, Lorin listened patiently to Professor Sprout’s explanation.
Reading about it in the original books was one thing, but hearing a firsthand account was a completely different experience.
“Hmm…”
Lorin blinked his dark eyes at Professor Sprout, his tone slightly uncertain:
“While it isn’t rigorous to label complex human nature based on specific traits, still…”
“As far as I know, Beauxbatons generally doesn’t consider an object that reads minds to be a particularly healthy or normal magical item…”
Perhaps drawn by Lorin’s quiet remark, Albus Dumbledore turned around and winked at him.
“If the Sorting Hat heard you say that, it would surely write a solemn poem criticizing you and recite it day and night…”
Professor Filius Flitwick suppressed a laugh, though he quickly fell quiet.
Indeed, this was the third time the staff table had prepared to quiet down, only to start talking again.
“When I call your name, you will step up, sit on the stool, and put on the Sorting Hat to be sorted!”
Professor McGonagall’s stern voice echoed through the spacious Great Hall, making the young wizards tense up.
“Ron, will I really not be sent back?”
“Oh, Harry, Fred must have been pulling your leg.”
A wizard with a lightning-bolt scar on his forehead was so tense his entire body was stiff.
His loose wizard robes could not conceal his slight trembling.
“Hannah Abbott!”
Professor McGonagall called out the first name loudly.
A girl with long blonde braids stumbled toward the Sorting Hat.
“Abbott?
Weren’t they sorted into Hufflepuff?
I recall it being a British pureblood family…”
After so many years, Lorin’s memory of the original books wasn’t perfectly fresh; he could only recall specific details when he saw actual events or characters.
But while Lorin was thinking to himself, the Sorting Hat had already given its answer:
“Hufflepuff!”
“Ah, right.
It was Hufflepuff.”
Lorin nodded to himself and continued watching the ceremony.
Subsequently, a burst of applause erupted from one section of the hall, and some older students even waved enthusiastically at Hannah Abbott.
Again, reading the books was one thing, but experiencing it firsthand was another.
Watching the Sorting Ceremony, Lorin could only say:
It was far too interesting!
A handsome young wizard with slicked-back blonde hair walked proudly toward the green-and-silver table after the Sorting Hat shouted “Slytherin!”
A round-faced young wizard ran straight toward Gryffindor without even taking the hat off after hearing the word “Gryffindor!”
Ron Weasley…
Familiar yet unfamiliar names were sorted one by one, filling Lorin with a deep sense of nostalgia.
But Lorin remained quiet, waiting for the final young wizard to be sorted.
“Harry Potter!”
Not only did the professors glance at each other, but the students in the Great Hall also broke into a chorus of whispers.
“Oh, Merlin!
Is that *the* Potter?!”
“By Merlin, did you see the scar on his forehead?”
“The Savior!
I’m telling you, Potter is bound to be in Slytherin.
After all, he’s a pureblood wizard too…”
Lorin, who already knew the outcome, glanced casually at Albus Dumbledore.
As expected, Albus Dumbledore’s bright blue eyes were fixed on Harry Potter as he sat on the four-legged stool.
The Sorting Hat fell into a long silence.
However, when it finally bellowed “Gryffindor!”, the tension in the hall seemed to dissipate all at once.
Ron Weasley welcomed Harry Potter’s arrival.
Harry Potter was also glad he wasn’t sorted into Slytherin.
As for Albus Dumbledore, he seemed to have let go of a major worry.
“It makes sense, after all, Lily and James…”
Professor Filius Flitwick felt a bit of regret, but he didn’t dwell on Harry Potter’s house.
“You’ll be teaching him Charms anyway, won’t you, Filius?”
“Naturally, haha…”
…
The Sorting Ceremony came to an end.
After the master of riddles, Albus Dumbledore, left them with the words, “Nitwit!
Oddment!
Oddity!
Tweak!”, the first feast of the term officially began!
“Oh, I’ve been starving for ages.”
Professor Filius Flitwick mumbled, and a plate of mashed potatoes smothered in gravy immediately appeared in front of him.
With a slight smile, a medium-rare, flame-seared shoulder steak and a bowl of borscht appeared on Lorin’s plate.
“Mr.
Montmorency’s appetite is truly impressive.”
Albus Dumbledore’s eyes peered through his spectacles, observing the six or seven neatly arranged plates in front of Lorin.
“My mother said eating more will help with my recovery.”
Lorin replied with a smile, quickly sliding a pineapple pie into his mouth:
“Besides, delicious food always makes one cheerful, doesn’t it?”
…