After the legendary Hatstall finished his sorting, several more young wizards took their turns.
Finally, a sandy-haired boy sat on the stool.
His name was Seamus Finnigan.
This boy was the first young wizard during the Sorting Ceremony to make the Sorting Hat hesitate.
It took a whole minute before the Hat finally announced he was sorted into Gryffindor.
Daimon’s attention, however, was not on this.
Daimon noticed that this young wizard named Seamus had a trace of highly distinctive elements in his magic.
*This boy is fated to cross paths with me…* Daimon thought to himself.
“Hermione Granger!” Right after Seamus came Hermione.
“I’ll go first.
I hope we get sorted into the same House,” Hermione said, waving to Daimon.
She ran all the way to the stool and quickly jammed the hat onto her head.
“Gryffindor!” the Sorting Hat shouted, giving its answer almost without hesitation.
“Oh, no!
Why didn’t the Sorting Hat put her in Ravenclaw?” Ron said, holding his head in his hands.
After Hermione, a few more wizards went before Neville Longbottom.
The Hat fell silent for a long time before sorting Neville into Gryffindor.
Neville, who had a terrible memory, ran off with the hat still on his head, ultimately returning it to Professor McGonagall with a scarlet face amidst a roar of laughter.
This made people highly doubt if the Sorting Hat had made a mistake; Neville did not look like a brave little lion at all.
At the Gryffindor table, Hermione was the only one who didn’t laugh at Neville.
Instead, she happily waved to him.
“I’m so glad we ended up in the same House,” Hermione said, though her eyes were fixed tightly on Daimon.
In the blink of an eye, several more young wizards finished their sorting.
The famous Harry Potter went to Gryffindor, and his destined best friend, Ron Weasley, also went to Gryffindor.
The boy who had clashed with Harry Potter on the train was sorted into Slytherin; his name was Draco Malfoy.
Finally, Professor McGonagall called out, “Damon Ignis!” Daimon walked forward unhurriedly.
Wizards throughout the Great Hall turned their attention toward him, including Albus Dumbledore.
“What a handsome little wizard.
I hope he gets sorted into our House.” “Ravenclaw welcomes you, Mr.
Ignis.” “Trust me, when he grows up, he’ll be even more handsome than Cedric Diggory.” As soon as Daimon stepped up, a few enthusiastic witches greeted him, while others felt he looked familiar.
“I feel like I’ve seen this boy somewhere, but I can’t place him.” “What a coincidence, I feel the same way.” “Me too, me too.
I thought my memory was playing tricks on me.” “Is it Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions?
That shop’s display window has had this boy’s photo hanging in it lately.
I heard their business has been incredibly good recently.” The outside noise was completely shut out the moment Daimon put on the hat.
“You are a naturally gifted young wizard; I actually cannot read your thoughts.
Are you a natural Occlumency wizard?” the Sorting Hat’s voice echoed in Daimon’s ear.
“I don’t know, what is Occlumency?” Daimon replied, but in his heart, he knew this was the power of the Sheep Talisman.
The gentle sheep could protect one’s soul and thoughts from being invaded by external forces.
“Very well!
Then, which House do you want to go to?
You should know that in addition to sorting young wizards based on their traits, I also fully respect personal preference.” The Sorting Hat did not dwell on the matter.
In its thousand-year existence, it had always encountered wizards with special talents.
Daimon was not the first.
“Remember what I sang earlier?
How about Slytherin?
You would achieve greatness in Slytherin,” the Sorting Hat suggested in a negotiating tone.
“I don’t want to become a snake living in a dungeon,” Daimon scoffed.
“What a personality!
Based on that remark alone, I already know which House you belong to.” The Sorting Hat shouted aloud, “Gryffindor!” With that, the sorting of all the young wizards was complete.
Daimon took off the hat and walked toward the Gryffindor table, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.
The Sorting Hat’s reaction was entirely within his expectations.
Having fully researched Hogwarts’ information before enrolling, he knew exactly how to perform to get the Sorting Hat to place him in his desired House.
Of course, Daimon didn’t have any particular preference for Gryffindor.
If it weren’t for Ron Weasley’s rat being in Gryffindor, he might have chosen Hufflepuff to better conceal himself.
But what Daimon didn’t know was that when the Sorting Hat shouted his House, Albus Dumbledore, sitting at the staff table, quietly let out a sigh of relief.
Dumbledore stood up, looking at the students with a beaming smile, and said, “Welcome to Hogwarts for the start of a new school year!
Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words.
And they are: Nitwit!
Blubber!
Oddment!
Tweak!” “Thank you!” Everyone clapped and cheered, though some of the first-years looked bewildered.
Just as Dumbledore sat back down, a teacher with greasy hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin leaned over.
“You are paying quite a bit of attention to that boy, aren’t you?
He’s the first-year who prompted you to personally handle his introduction, isn’t he, Dumbledore?” “Very sharp, Severus,” Dumbledore said with a smile.
“He is a very talented child.
You might want to pay some attention to him in your Potions class and give him some proper guidance.” “Ha!” Severus Snape sneered.
“Are you sure you want me to give him guidance?” “Of course.
I trust you more than anyone,” Dumbledore said seriously.
“Don’t look at me with those eyes,” Snape said, turning away and quietly glancing toward the Gryffindor table.
At the Gryffindor table, Daimon instantly caught the gaze from the staff table.
Seeing an unfamiliar teacher whose appearance alone screamed “natural villain,” he wondered who it was.
“Who’s that?” Daimon asked George and Fred beside him.
The two Weasley twins had shown their highly outgoing nature the moment they saw him, and with Daimon’s deliberate encouragement, the three of them quickly established an initial friendship.
“That’s Professor Snape.
He teaches Potions.” “He’s also the Head of Slytherin.” “You can tell just by looking at him—a born-evil Slytherin who loves nothing more than spewing poison.” “Anyway, you’ll have to be careful of him over the next few years.
He dislikes every single Gryffindor.” George and Fred chimed in one after another.
It was obvious they held a massive grudge against Snape.
“Especially us,” George said, lowering his voice.
“He docked fifty points from us last term just because we put a few small fireworks into a cauldron of Hair-Raising Potion.” “That potion was about to boil anyway,” Fred grumbled, puckering his lips.
“We were just helping it speed up.” “He always finds excuses to deduct points from other Houses and award them to Slytherin,” George continued.
Daimon did not reply.
In his mind, he quickly searched for information regarding Snape, though there wasn’t much.
He only recalled that this character seemed to die in the end.
“I don’t believe you.
If Professor Snape is really as you say, wouldn’t Dumbledore do something about it?
Besides, playing pranks in class is wrong in the first place, isn’t it?” a crisp voice chimed in from the side.
It was Hermione.
“What an innocent little witch.
This is the wizarding world; we just like to play a few harmless pranks,” George teased.
“Exactly!” Fred said.
“You have to realize, even Headmaster Dumbledore himself is a bit loony sometimes.
You heard his speech just now.” Hermione blinked.
“…Nitwit?
Blubber?
Oddment?
Tweak?” “Yep, exactly that,” George shrugged.
“Do you think a normal person would say things like that?” “Genius and madness often go hand in hand,” Fred nodded solemnly.
Hermione opened her mouth, seemingly wanting to argue back, but found herself completely unable to.
She hesitated for a moment, her voice dropping a bit.
“But…
the books say Headmaster Dumbledore is the greatest wizard of the century…” “What the books say is true!” George said dismissively.
“But the greatest wizard doesn’t equate to the most normal wizard.
Just like Snape—he’s a famous Potions Master, but he’s definitely not a good person.” Hermione sat back, deflated, chewing on the steak on her plate as if it were cardboard.
So far, her impression of Hogwarts, aside from the wondrous magic, was a far cry from the solemn and sacred magic school she had imagined.
The poor atmosphere between students, for instance.
“Sometimes there’s a tiny gap between ideal and reality,” George said, noticing her dejection, his tone rare and somewhat gentle.
“And sometimes, the gap is quite massive,” Fred added, though this time there was no teasing tone.
Hermione fell silent.
Daimon glanced at her and suddenly spoke up.
“But look at it another way…” Hermione looked up at him, her eyes shining slightly.
“If everything was exactly as you imagined, where would the surprise be?” Daimon picked up his pumpkin juice and took a small sip, his voice calm.
“Hogwarts is a magical place.
Its magic lies not in being perfect, but in always surprising you where you least expect it.” Hermione nodded thoughtfully.
“Well said!” George slapped Daimon on the shoulder.
“That’s exactly why we love Hogwarts,” Fred laughed.
“Come on, let’s toast to that!” The two raised their pumpkin juice cups high.
The four cups clinked together in the air, making a crisp sound.