“Believer? What does that mean?”
As he climbed the stone steps leading to the entrance hall, Mord couldn’t help but ask inwardly.
[Replying to the Demon King: A Believer is a loyal follower of the Dark Lord.]
[Believers generate Darkness Points for you at regular intervals.]
[There are three levels of faith: Believer, Faithful Believer, and Fanatic. The higher the level of faith, the more Darkness Points they generate.]
After hearing the system’s explanation, Mord immediately understood the importance of Believers.
His heart skipped a beat.
He quickly opened the Believer panel.
There was only one portrait displayed.
[Believer: Pansy Parkinson]
[Faith Level: Believer (10%)]
[Potential: Superior]
[Current Efficiency: 10 Darkness Points per Month]
The corners of Mord’s lips curled upward.
This was an unexpected surprise.
In other words, Pansy would automatically provide him with ten Darkness Points every month.
The best part was that he didn’t even have to do anything.
She would continue generating points on her own.
Compared to drawing a portrait of his rebellious father, this was a true long-term resource.
Of course, according to the system, gaining Believers wasn’t easy, and increasing their faith was even harder.
Mord wasn’t sure whether Pansy had been influenced by her family or whether she simply had a crush on him, but either way, she had become his first Believer with surprising ease.
Naturally, he intended to treasure her.
He blinked his peach blossom eyes and looked at Pansy with a gentle smile.
Pansy’s heartbeat instantly accelerated.
She hurriedly looked away, too embarrassed to meet his gaze.
[Ding! Pansy’s Faith +1%.]
Mord smiled inwardly.
Who said faith could only be earned through religion?
Charm worked just as well.
Beside them, Daphne sighed helplessly as she watched her best friend’s lovestruck expression.
She admitted Black was incredibly handsome.
But wasn’t Pansy getting a little carried away?
After climbing several more flights of stairs, the group finally reached the entrance courtyard.
Professor McGonagall stood before the doors of the Great Hall.
“Thank you, Hagrid. I’ll take it from here.”
After Hagrid left, she turned toward the first-year students with a serious expression.
“In a few moments, you will participate in the Sorting Ceremony. You will be sorted into one of Hogwarts’ four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin. Your house will become your family during your years at Hogwarts. Outstanding achievements will earn points for your house, while rule-breaking will cost house points. At the end of the school year, the house with the most points will win the House Cup.”
Hermione nervously clenched her fists.
If only she had learned the Incendio spell during the summer.
At least then she would have stood a chance if she had to duel someone.
She was certain Mord would end up in Gryffindor.
As for herself…
Who knew?
She even worried she might somehow be expelled.
Professor McGonagall pushed open the massive doors.
Warm candlelight poured out into the corridor.
The Great Hall was magnificent.
Hundreds of floating candles illuminated the enchanted ceiling, while four long tables stretched across the hall, each occupied by students from one of the four houses. Get faster updates on NovelPing.
At the far end stood the staff table.
Mord glanced across the professors.
Professor Snape, with his greasy black hair, was staring intensely at Harry Potter.
Professor Quirrell stood nearby, wearing his familiar purple turban while looking unusually nervous.
Professor Flitwick…
Too short.
Next.
What a strange collection of professors.
Ironically, Albus Dumbledore looked the most ordinary among them.
Dressed in elegant purple robes with his long white beard flowing over his chest, he perfectly matched the image of a wise old wizard.
Only his slightly crooked nose hinted at stories from his younger days.
Dumbledore had been watching Harry, but suddenly shifted his attention toward Mord.
Their eyes met.
The old headmaster smiled warmly.
His deep blue eyes were unfathomable.
Mord couldn’t read a single thought from them.
He quietly looked away.
Keeping a low profile around Dumbledore was probably the wisest decision.
No matter how clever he believed himself to be, he had no intention of trying to outsmart a wizard with over a century of experience.
A few moments later, Professor McGonagall returned carrying an old, patched wizard’s hat.
The famous Sorting Hat.
The ancient hat opened its mouth and began singing its traditional Sorting Song.
After finishing its performance, Professor McGonagall called the first student.
“When I call your name, step forward, place the Sorting Hat on your head, and wait to be sorted.”
Many first-years visibly relaxed.
Ron muttered in annoyance,
“Fred and George told me we’d have to wrestle a troll before getting sorted.”
Hermione shot Mord an accusing look.
He simply smiled back.
So he had tricked her.
Fine.
She wasn’t going to speak to him…
For at least a day.
Professor McGonagall unfolded the parchment.
“Hannah Abbott.”
A blonde girl with rosy cheeks stepped forward.
The Sorting Hat barely touched her head before shouting,
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
Cheers erupted from the Hufflepuff table.
One student after another was sorted.
Eventually, Professor McGonagall reached a familiar name.
“Mord Black.”
The entire hall seemed to fall silent.
Many curious eyes turned toward him.
Dumbledore straightened slightly in his chair.
Mord calmly walked to the stool and placed the Sorting Hat on his head.
A startled voice immediately echoed inside his mind.
“What is this? Isn’t it 1991? Why am I sitting on Tom Riddle’s head again?”
Mord almost choked.
“Excuse me! That’s slander! My name is Mord Black, and I’m a perfectly decent person!”
The system immediately spoke.
[The system protects your deepest thoughts. No one can read your true mind. Others may only perceive your surface thoughts.]
Mord sighed with relief.
The Sorting Hat paused before apologizing awkwardly.
“My mistake. You’re only the second student I’ve ever met who mastered Dark Arts before enrolling.”
“I already know exactly where you belong.”
“Sly—”
“Wait!”
Mord quickly interrupted.
“Don’t you think I’m gentle, honest, and hardworking? Hufflepuff sounds like a wonderful choice.”
The Sorting Hat remained silent.
Finally, it replied,
“I have rarely encountered someone your age with such astonishing confidence.”
Mord cleared his throat.
“Then perhaps Gryffindor? Sirius Black was sorted there.”
“You certainly possess courage… though mentioning Sirius isn’t helping your case.”
The hat sounded unconvinced.
Thinking quickly, Mord suddenly had an idea.
“Actually, Ravenclaw makes the most sense.”
“Oh?”
“I study magic because I love knowledge. Yes, I know Dark Arts—but I created those spells myself. Isn’t that the pursuit of magical wisdom?”
“…Those are still Dark Arts.”
“So what? Dark magic is still magic.”
Mord continued confidently.
“Imagine this. Years from now, I could become one of the greatest magical scholars in history. But because you sorted me incorrectly, I end up becoming an ordinary Dark Lord instead. Wouldn’t that be your responsibility?”
The Sorting Hat was speechless.
For what felt like forever, it remained completely silent.
Outside, the Great Hall grew increasingly quiet.
Minutes passed.
Professor McGonagall’s eyes widened slightly.
Could this be…
A Hatstall?
A rare event that occurred only when the Sorting Hat found a student’s personality exceptionally difficult to judge.
It happened only once every several decades.
Even she had once been a Hatstall herself.
The students waited in complete silence.
Finally, after several long minutes, the Sorting Hat let out a weary sigh.
“I must admit…”
“You are one of the most unusual young wizards I have encountered in centuries.”
“And now…”
“I know exactly where to place you.”