As the hat blocked her vision, a tiny voice sounded in her ear:
“Hmm… very interesting,” the Sorting Hat whispered in Vera’s ear, “This deep-seated ambition and desire for power… classic Slytherin traits, nearly everyone in the House of Black has been there.”
“But wait…” the hat continued, “There is more here… Oh! What is this?”
Vera felt the Sorting Hat tremble slightly in her mind.
“What a rare combination… courage and loyalty, the ideal to change one’s own fate, a flame hidden beneath a calm exterior… Gryffindor has every reason to choose you as well.”
The silence in the Great Hall began to grow suffocating; Vera could feel hundreds of eyes staring at her, and some people were already beginning to whisper.
“I see the struggle within your heart,” the hat continued, “Your resistance to family traditions, your pursuit of your own path… This reminds me of another Black…”
The whispers in the Great Hall grew louder and louder; Vera could feel hundreds of eyes staring right at her.
“So, what is your choice?” the Sorting Hat asked suddenly.
Vera was slightly taken aback, “I thought it was up to you to decide.”
“Usually, yes,” the Sorting Hat conceded, “But your situation is also very special, much like Miss Potter and Miss Granger before you. Tell me, young Black, what do you value most?”
Vera’s gaze involuntarily drifted past the brim of the hat and landed on the Gryffindor table.
That adorable savior was sitting there nervously, her green eyes staring unblinkingly in this direction.
Ever since she learned she had come to this world, Vera had been pondering: as a transmigrator, what was the most important thing?
Prioritizing survival was indeed important… but given her current condition, it seemed that no matter what she did, she was struggling upward.
Since she had arrived in a world of magic, she wanted to give it a try.
“I want to…” Vera raised her head, a trace of a smile flashing in her eyes as she looked at Harry, “I want to go to a place that can change my fate.”
The Sorting Hat chuckled softly, “Ah, changing one’s fate… such a Gryffindor answer. But are you truly certain? That means breaking the traditions of the House of Black once again.”
Vera looked at those green eyes in the distance and lifted her chin, “Traditions are meant to be broken.”
“Very well!” the Sorting Hat suddenly raised its volume, loudly announcing to the entire Great Hall, “Gryffindor!”
The Great Hall fell instantly silent, everyone staring in wide-eyed shock.
Cheers from the Gryffindor table erupted a few seconds later; Harry even jumped up to applaud, nearly knocking over the goblet on the table.
Professor McGonagall was also clearly taken aback for a moment, but she quickly helped Vera take off the hat, saying softly, “Welcome to Gryffindor.”
Vera wheeled herself toward the Gryffindor table, feeling gazes coming from all directions along the way.
When she reached the long table, Harry had already eagerly made space.
“Vera!
You’re in Gryffindor too!” Harry stammered with excitement, “We’re in the same house!
I knew it—”
Hermione also leaned over to help tidy her flattened hair, “The Sorting Hat hesitated for so long, what did it say to you?”
Vera shook her head gently, “Just some trivial matters.”
When the sorting concluded, a tall figure rose from the staff table.
Professor Albus Dumbledore spread his arms, his silvery-white beard gleaming in the candlelight.
“Welcome!” his voice boomed, warm and resonant, “Welcome to Hogwarts! Before we enjoy our feast, I have a few words to say—”
Vera’s gaze swept over the crowd and landed on the Headmaster’s twinkling, wise blue eyes.
The greatest Wizard of the modern age was looking benevolently at all the students.
“Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!” Dumbledore said suddenly, and then sat back down cheerfully.
The new students looked at one another in confusion, while the older students began to applaud as if nothing unusual had happened.
Harry looked at Vera in confusion, “Is he… a bit mad?”
The corners of Vera’s mouth turned up slightly, “That must be his style.”
As Dumbledore sat down, piles of delicious food suddenly appeared on the long tables: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, sausages, Yorkshire pudding, various vegetables and gravy… and, for some bizarre reason, peppermint humbugs.
“That’s amazing!” Hermione exclaimed, while Harry was already eagerly piling food onto her plate.
Vera noticed that Harry’s plate was almost entirely meat, with hardly any vegetables.
She gently pushed over a bowl of salad, “A balanced diet is important.”
When everyone had eaten their fill, the leftovers vanished in an instant, replaced by a variety of puddings, ice cream, pies, cakes, and fruit.
Harry’s eyes widened roundly, “This is amazing! How are they all made to appear?”
Vera watched Harry wolfing down an apple pie and gently pushed a plate of strawberry pudding toward her, “Eat slowly, nobody is going to take it from you.”
Harry bashfully slowed down, her cheeks bulging with food, “Sorry, I just… have never eaten anything this delicious.”
Hermione asked curiously, “Don’t your relatives give you desserts?”
Harry’s smile dimmed for a fraction of a second, “Dudley always got double portions, and I… sometimes didn’t even get leftovers.”
Vera’s gaze fell upon Harry’s scrawny wrist, her eyes darkening slightly.
She changed the subject, “You can have a little bit of everything… as long as you have room for it.”
The banquet continued amidst laughter and chatter.
Vera noticed that at the staff table, a Professor wrapped in a purple turban—Professor Quirrell—was occasionally glancing furtively at Harry.
And every time his gaze swept over them, Nox around her neck would bristle its fur and emit a low growl.
“What’s wrong with it?” Harry noticed Nox’s unusual behavior and asked with concern.
Vera gently stroked Nox’s back, “It’s fine, it probably just isn’t used to so many people.”
Everyone at the banquet was happily discussing their respective families.
Harry had nothing to say, so she simply lowered her head and stroked the cat along with Vera.
And just as she inadvertently raised her head, she happened to catch sight of the large bundle of scarves wrapped around Quirrell’s head.
For some reason, Harry suddenly felt a burning pain in the scar on her forehead.
“Hiss!” Harry covered her forehead with one hand.
Vera keenly sensed her abnormality, turning her head to look, “What’s wrong?”
Harry’s fingers pressed tightly against her lightning-shaped scar, her face suddenly turning pale, “My scar… it suddenly hurts a bit…”
Vera’s pupils contracted sharply.
She quickly looked up toward the staff table; Professor Quirrell had already turned away, stammering something to Snape.
Quirrell… no, Lord Voldemort hiding on the back of his head was looking at Harry.