“What a peculiar Weasley.”
A voice echoed inside Tris’s mind.
*Huh?*
Tris froze for a moment.
Was this…
the Sorting Hat communicating with him?
In the movies, only Harry had conversed with the Sorting Hat, but experiencing the Sorting Ceremony firsthand, Tris realized that was not the case.
Seamus Finnigan, Hermione, Neville, and several other students had all taken a considerable amount of time under the Sorting Hat, so it was likely they had spoken with it as well.
Tris had originally assumed that the moment the Sorting Hat heard the surname Weasley, it would immediately sort him into Gryffindor.
But things didn’t play out that way.
‘Can you hear my voice?
And yet, I cannot read your thoughts,’ the Sorting Hat’s voice sounded in his mind again.
‘How strange.
Has a brat who hasn’t even entered Hogwarts yet truly mastered Occlumency?’
So that was really it.
Tris raised an eyebrow slightly.
He had previously guessed how the Sorting Hat communicated with young witches and wizards.
Now it seemed his theory was spot-on: an enchanted, permanent form of Legilimency.
However, it likely wasn’t ordinary mental intrusion, but rather something resembling emotional analysis.
And accompanied by basic communication capabilities.
If someone possessed mental defensive abilities like Occlumency, the Sorting Hat wouldn’t be able to read them directly.
Tris, of course, didn’t know an obscure branch of magic like Occlumency—it wasn’t part of the curriculum for either the O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s.
Even among the professors at Hogwarts, very few were proficient in or had researched this magic.
Otherwise, when Harry needed to learn Occlumency later on, he wouldn’t have had to go to Severus Snape, the person he clashed with most.
What was actually blocking the Sorting Hat from reading his thoughts was a reward he had received when the system unlocked: Mind Maze, an advanced version of Memory Palace.
In addition to retaining Memory Palace’s photographic memory capabilities, Mind Maze possessed psychic defense properties.
Any external force trying to pry into his mind would become hopelessly lost inside the maze.
However, that had only been the description given upon unlocking the reward; Tris had never had a chance to test it out before.
This was his very first time experiencing the effects of this ability.
*Mm, it seems quite good.*
Mind Maze was a passive skill that couldn’t be turned off.
However, if Tris consciously initiated it, he should still be able to transmit his thoughts outward.
‘Hello?’ he tried communicating with the Sorting Hat.
‘By Merlin’s beard, how remarkable,’ the Sorting Hat’s voice responded instantly.
‘I haven’t met a child like you in a hundred years.’
‘Oh?
So there was someone like me a hundred years ago?’ Tris asked with a tinge of curiosity.
He didn’t think anyone else possessed Mind Maze, but if it was Occlumency, that was entirely possible.
‘Yes, that person is sitting up there right now, watching us.
Back when I had to choose a House for him, it took quite an effort on my part as well.’
Sitting up there?
On the staff table?
Tris almost instantly realized who the Sorting Hat was talking about.
Among the staff at Hogwarts, there were two who could be considered over a hundred years old.
One was the ghost professor for History of Magic, but he was not at the staff table right now.
And the other was the current Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.
Tris didn’t know Albus Dumbledore’s exact age, but he was definitely well over a hundred.
‘You mean Albus Dumbledore?’ Even though he was certain in his heart, Tris asked anyway.
‘Yes, our headmaster himself.
Now then, enough of these digressions.
Let’s talk about which House you are suited for.’
My surname is Weasley,’ Tris said as if it were obvious.
A Weasley goes to Gryffindor—wasn’t that a given?
‘Ah yes, a Weasley…
that does make things a bit tricky…’
‘Huh?’ Tris blinked.
Tricky?
What was tricky about it?
‘If it’s tricky, don’t overthink it—just follow tradition.’
‘Hmm…
you make a good point.
In truth, it isn’t tricky at all.
Extraordinary talent, a profound and unfathomable mind, pure blood…
Then, without a shadow of a doubt…’
Hearing this, Tris suddenly felt that something was off.
Sure enough, the next instant—
“SLYTHERIN!” the Sorting Hat shouted loudly.
The Gryffindors, who had already been preparing to stand up and applaud, all froze.
*What on earth?
Slytherin?*
It wasn’t just the Gryffindors—students from all four Houses were stunned into silence.
Even Professor McGonagall beside him and the professors at the staff table wore expressions of utter astonishment.
A Weasley, in Slytherin?
Granted, members of the Weasley family certainly possessed the qualifications to enter Slytherin.
Despite facing some criticism, the Weasleys were still listed among the Sacred Twenty-Eight.
From the perspective of blood purity, which Slytherin valued, accepting a child of the Weasley family posed no issue whatsoever.
However, for at least the past two hundred years, every single Weasley had been sorted into Gryffindor.
Right now, there were already four Weasleys sitting at the Gryffindor table!
“Holy shit!” Tris blurted out in his native tongue.
He doubted whether his ears were deceiving him, and he turned to look at Professor McGonagall beside him.
“Slytherin,” Professor McGonagall said.
Though startled at first, she had quickly regained her usual composure.
Her quiet eyes looked down at Tris.
“Mr. Weasley, you should make your way to your House table.”
“But…” Tris felt that this world was going insane.
How on earth could he end up in Slytherin?
Was this right?
“There are no buts,” Professor McGonagall replied calmly.
“The decision of the Sorting Hat cannot be altered. Go along now, there is still a student waiting behind you.”
Behind him?
Wasn’t there only one person left?
Tris glanced at the last remaining Black student, who was staring at him with a look of surprise.
Seeing Tris look over, the boy immediately resumed his previous arrogant expression.
If it had been a pretty girl, that expression might be called tsundere.
But you’re a guy, and not even a good-looking one, so pulling a face like that is just an ugly person making a spectacle of himself.
Doesn’t he realize this world judges by looks?
Feeling immensely superior in terms of appearance, Tris rolled his eyes at the Black boy, stood up, and walked toward the Slytherin table.
Silence.
An eerie silence.
It was nothing like when the previous students had walked over, welcomed by cheers and applause.
As Tris approached, every Slytherin stared at him with bizarre expressions.
“What are you looking at, you little punks? Never seen a handsome guy before?” Tris had never been a gentle, mild-mannered soul—if he were, the chess set he gave Harry wouldn’t have had such a foul mouth and wild temper.
It was only at home, where going a bit too far would earn him an earful from Molly, that he kept himself somewhat restrained.
Now, seeing a gang of kids who were nothing more than brats in his eyes looking at him like he was a freak, why would he hold back? This chapter is updated first at g.com.
The moment those words left his mouth, the Slytherin students exploded in outrage.
Ninety-nine percent of Slytherin students came from wizarding families, with a very high proportion belonging to pure-blood or long-established wizarding lineages.
Especially the pure-blood families; many took immense pride in their bloodlines and family names—precisely the kind of people most easily sorted into Slytherin.
Not a single one of them had a gentle temper.
“Who are you calling a punk, you penniless loser!” someone leaped to his feet.
Well, no need to guess—the only person bold enough to call the Weasleys penniless losers was, of course, the Malfoy family’s young master, Draco Malfoy.
“Whoever answers is the one I’m talking to,” Tris chuckled.
Ignoring Draco Malfoy’s furious gaze, he walked right up beside him.
“Move over!”
Seeing Draco Malfoy fail to react immediately, Tris reached out and shoved him aside.
Draco Malfoy tried to resist, only to find that he couldn’t withstand Tris’s strength at all.
With a single shove, he was pushed aside helplessly.
“You!” Draco Malfoy slammed his hand on the table, red-faced with shame and fury, intending to jump up.
“Don’t move.” Tris pressed a hand down onto his shoulder.
Draco Malfoy tried to push himself up, putting effort into his legs and torso twice, but he couldn’t budge an inch.
The corners of Tris’s mouth curled into a satisfied smile.
The physique he had honed through the system wasn’t just good-looking; his strength was genuine.
Granted, Tris’s strength hadn’t yet reached the level of an average adult.
However, pinning down an eleven-year-old, skinny boy like Draco Malfoy was more than enough.
Draco Malfoy struggled twice without success.
When he looked at Tris again, a tinge of fear had crept into his expression.
“Weasley, Malfoy, do not make a scene at the feast,” a cool, indifferent voice spoke up from the side.
Tris looked over in the direction of the voice.
It was a tall, dark-haired girl who looked to be in her sixth or seventh year.
On her chest hung a small badge.
It was a Prefect badge—the very thing Percy Weasley had spent over a month during the summer holidays pretending to casually show off.
A female Slytherin Prefect?
Tris didn’t remember who Slytherin’s Prefects were at this time; his impression of Slytherin Prefects was restricted to Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson in their fifth year.
Still, being a newcomer, Tris decided it was best not to stick out too much.
Clashing with a Prefect was clearly not a wise choice, so he nodded right away.
“Alright, Prefect. As long as he doesn’t provoke me.”
Tris displayed a diplomatic attitude, but Draco Malfoy beside him certainly did not.
The moment Tris removed his hand from his shoulder, Draco Malfoy instantly jumped up.
However, he didn’t confront Tris directly—Tris’s “freakish strength” had rattled him a bit.
Instead, he directed his fury at the girl who had spoken.
“Who are you to tell me what to do? Do you know who I am? Do you know who my father is?”
The girl narrowed her eyes slightly, her tone remaining calm.
“Of course I know who you are, Draco Malfoy.
And I know who your father is, Mr. Lucius Malfoy.
“I don’t care how you behave at home, but now that you are at Hogwarts and sorted into Slytherin, you must obey the rules here. Since today is the first day, I’ll let it slide for tonight, but starting tomorrow for the next week, you will serve three hours of detention every afternoon. That is the price for shouting during the feast and talking back to a Prefect.”
A giant question mark seemed to hover over Draco Malfoy’s head.
This situation was not unfolding the way he had anticipated at all!
This woman knew his identity and knew his father, yet she wasn’t afraid of him in the slightest?
What was going on?
And what was more…
Draco Malfoy also noticed that when the girl spoke, all the Slytherin students who had previously been so enthusiastic toward him upon hearing his name and sorting avoided eye contact, not daring to look at him or her.
Although Draco Malfoy had been pampered by his mother since childhood to the point of arrogance, he wasn’t genuinely stupid.
He realized now that this girl was definitely no ordinary student!
It wasn’t just Draco Malfoy; Tris was also looking at this girl in surprise.
Slytherin actually had a prominent figure like this?