Five minutes wasn’t exactly long.
But it wasn’t short either.
While Vincent and the others speculated about what the Sorting Ceremony would involve, the air around them suddenly grew colder.
“AHHH—!” Several first-years behind them screamed loudly, as if something horrifying had appeared.
Pearly-white, semi-transparent ghosts floated straight out through the walls of the small chamber, apparently arguing over something.
A plump ghost dressed like a monk drifted behind Ron.
“We should give him another chance.”
“My dear friar, haven’t we already given Peeves enough chances?”
Another ghost wearing a strange ruffled collar floated after him.
“He gave all of us ridiculous nicknames.”
“You know he isn’t even a proper ghost.”
Passing directly through Ron’s chest, the ghost suddenly widened his eyes at Vincent.
“What are you all doing here?”
“Waiting for Professor McGonagall.”
The Fat Friar floated through Ron a moment later and smiled warmly.
“Looks like we’ve all wandered somewhere we shouldn’t be~”
Beside Vincent, Hermione boldly reached out a hand.
Her fingers passed through.
Cold.
That was all.
No sensation whatsoever.
“Sorry…
I was curious.”
She politely apologized to the ghost.
“Oh, young lady—you’re absolutely a Gryffindor!”
The Fat Friar glanced toward Ron, whose face had turned green.
“I think we should be leaving now.”
Then he looked back at Vincent.
“Thank you.
I hope you’re sorted into Hufflepuff.
I used to belong there.”
He floated upward with the others.
“And you too!
Hufflepuff is the best House!”
The ghosts vanished through the ceiling.
The first-years barely relaxed for a few seconds before a sharp voice rang out:
“Line up single file.
The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin.”
Professor McGonagall had returned.
And judging by her expression, she looked very unhappy with the noisy students.
“Follow me.”
Vincent immediately walked behind her.
Hermione and Neville followed after him.
Behind them, Ron kept whispering to Harry that he’d only felt cold earlier and definitely wasn’t scared of ghosts.
“Actually…
I was kind of scared.”
Harry’s voice was extremely quiet.
“You were wha—”
Ron suddenly stopped talking.
Professor McGonagall had turned and looked back.
She pushed them open.
The Great Hall unfolded before the first-years.
Thousands of floating candles illuminated the hall with warm light.
The ceiling, black as velvet, shimmered with stars under magic, looking exactly like the night sky outside.
Students from higher years sat around four long tables filled with plates and silverware.
McGonagall led the first-years toward another table at the front—the staff table.
Hundreds of eyes immediately focused on them.
Vincent calmly handed Cuckoo over.
McGonagall held him and sighed.
“Heavy.”
Then she walked toward the staff table.
After placing Cuckoo beside her seat, she returned carrying a four-legged stool.
On top sat an old, dirty wizard hat.
Every eye in the Great Hall fixed upon it.
Patch after patch had been sewn onto it.
It looked worn beyond belief.
Just as Vincent wondered whether, after nearly a thousand years of repairs, it could still technically be considered the original Sorting Hat—
The hat suddenly twitched.
A slit opened in the middle.
Like a mouth.
Then it began singing without warning:
“Perhaps you think I’m not pretty,
But never judge by looks alone,
Find a hat more handsome than me,
And I’ll gladly eat my own.
You may polish your bowler hats,
Make your top hats sleek and grand,
But Hogwarts’ Sorting Hat surpasses all,
The finest in the land.
Every thought hidden in your mind,
Escapes not my magical sight,
Put me on and you shall know,
Which House suits you just right…”
One by one, it sang of the four Houses and their traits.
Vincent decided that without modern sound tuning, the Sorting Hat’s performance was surprisingly decent.
The tone was weird.
But it stayed on pitch.
Professor McGonagall returned and unrolled a parchment.
“When I call your name, you will place the hat on your head and sit down for Sorting.”
“Hannah Abbott!”
A rosy-faced girl with blonde braids stumbled forward.
The Sorting Hat slid over her eyes.
Moments later:
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
The table at the far right erupted in applause.
“Susan Bones!”
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
“Terry Boot!”
This time the second table from the left cheered loudly.
Terry shook hands with several Ravenclaws before sitting down.
Soon Lavender Brown, a round-faced girl, was sorted.
“GRYFFINDOR!”
The table on the far left exploded with cheering.
Fred and George even leaned across Ravenclaw’s table to boo Slytherin.
When Millicent Bulstrode got sorted into Slytherin shortly afterward, their booing became even more obvious.
“Hermione Granger!”
Hermione, tense from head to toe, suddenly noticed Vincent secretly making a cheering gesture.
She hurried toward the stool and pulled on the hat.
One minute passed.
Then two.
Her expression looked extremely conflicted.
Eventually the Sorting Hat made the choice for her:
“GRYFFINDOR!”
“Oh noooo—”
The twins cried dramatically.
Judging by her behavior on the train, Miss Granger looked practically like a younger Professor McGonagall.
“Neville Longbottom!”
Vincent made another encouraging gesture.
Neville closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Then he ran forward.
THUD.
He tripped.
But quickly stood up and ran the rest of the way.
The Sorting Hat took even longer than Hermione’s sorting before finally deciding:
“GRYFFINDOR!”
Neville stood up with excitement and immediately looked toward Vincent—the first person applauding for him.
Vincent pointed at his own head.
Neville blinked, then hurriedly removed the Sorting Hat and placed it back.
“Congratulations, Neville!”
Hermione was the second person clapping.
“Thank you.”
Neville sat beside her.
“Draco Malfoy!”
Hermione instantly narrowed her eyes.
Draco swaggered forward confidently, radiating everything she hated.
Beside her, Neville felt like she was expecting something.
“Hurry up…
hurry up…”
Hurry what?
Hurry and get sorted?
Neville assumed Hermione wanted Draco to trip like he had.
That seemed reasonable.
Unfortunately for her—
The moment the Sorting Hat touched Draco’s slick blond hair, it immediately shouted:
“SLYTHERIN!”
…