Hogwarts Raven (Harry Potter)

If his eyes hadn't deceived him just now… This little witch had been sticking awfully close to that damn school bully nephew of his…

"If I were you, I'd stay far away from that boy. Consider that a warning." Snape's voice was icy as he spoke to Hermione, enunciating each word with deliberate force.

"Huh?" Hermione was stunned and confused.

At that moment, another first-year student from a pure-blood family whispered a reminder to her: "The boss of Hogwarts doesn't like anyone getting close to that Ravenclaw."

This seemed like a common instruction many pure-blood newcomers had received at home, perhaps even coordinated under Miss Daphne's strategic guidance.

"Shut your mouth, Miss Prewett!" Snape barked, shooting the whispering girl a furious glare. She immediately shrank back and disappeared into the crowd.

"I've said what I needed to say. Whether you listen or not is up to you. I rarely offer such considerate advice." He looked over at the frail and timid Harry Potter, then back at Hermione, his expression growing more complicated.

There was a strange sense of déjà vu, one that unsettled him deeply.

"Everyone, follow me." Snape snapped his cloak and strode to the front of the group, leading the first-years with practiced familiarity down the corridor until they reached the place where every Hogwarts student's dream began: The Great Hall.

Professor McGonagall was already waiting there.

Upper-year students from every House were also curiously eyeing the entrance to the Great Hall. Harry noticed that Ian was currently seated at a long table marked with a serpent insignia, chatting with a girl.

"Weird… I thought Ravenclaw's symbol was an eagle?" He looked puzzled.

"Is that the 'Hogwarts Boss' the student mentioned earlier?" Hermione seemed surprised. The girl sitting with Ian looked nothing like the cheerleader captain she had imagined.

If anything, she appeared… quiet? Scholarly?

"Line up now. We're about to begin the Sorting Ceremony." McGonagall's voice, as always, was stern. She took her place at the same ancient spot as every year and began the preparations.

Meanwhile, the first-years looked around in wonder.

In the magnificent hall, the staff table was filled with professors, including the legendary Headmaster, currently dressed in white robes, smiling warmly down at them.

"Welcome, everyone!"

Suddenly—

The Sorting Hat, which every year pretended to be just a regular old hat, abruptly opened its mouth and spoke. It first relished in the waves of gasps and murmurs from the new students.

Then—

In its signature gravelly voice, it began reciting this year's Sorting song.

Still as rhymed as ever, and somehow even more of a soul-singer than the year before.

Several little witches and wizards covered their ears.

After a full five minutes of auditory suffering, the Sorting Hat finally finished its performance.

Professor McGonagall promptly stepped forward, holding the parchment list in her hand.'

"When I call your name, come up here and put on this hat. It will guide you to the House most suited to you."

Professor McGonagall looked down at the parchment in her hands.

"Hannah Abbott!"

She called the first name.

The legendary Hat King (ironclad in fate across countless timelines) had arrived once again. A rosy-cheeked girl with two golden braids and a freckled face stumbled forward nervously.

The Sorting Hat took a moment to think.

"Hufflepuff!"

It declared the same placement the Hat King had received in every timeline. Everyone had just witnessed how the Sorting worked, and several little wizards who had been scared earlier breathed sighs of relief.

Hermione and Harry did too. Harry noticed that sometimes the Hat called out a House name instantly, and other times it took its time to decide.

"Seems like all we have to do is wear the hat, and then it'll be fine." Back in the group, Ron whispered to Harry. "Damn Fred told me I'd have to wrestle a giant!"

"What if it doesn't sort me at all?" Harry's anxiety spiked again.

Meanwhile, the Sorting Hat continued making decisions one after another.

"Hermione Granger!"

"This is a tough one. You want Ravenclaw? No, you don't actually want it. You belong in Gryffindor more!"

"Neville Longbottom!"

"Gryffindor!"

"Ron Weasley!"

"Gryffindor!"

Watching his new friends get Sorted one after another, Harry grew more and more anxious. He was puzzled. Why hadn't his name been called yet?

"Draco Malfoy!"

"…Where is he?"

"Draco Malfoy!"

The Sorting Hat called a name Harry remembered hearing earlier. Curious, Harry glanced behind him at the boy nearby. He didn't expect this arrogant kid to be just as nervous as him.

Draco Malfoy's expression really did look extremely uncomfortable.

"Mr. Malfoy, are you daydreaming?" Professor McGonagall couldn't help but ask aloud.

"…"

Draco looked thoroughly embarrassed.

"Professor… I… I've changed my name… I'm now called… Swaggy Dungbro…"

Draco's face turned beet red, his voice as quiet as a mosquito, full of shame and frustration.

But—

He didn't dare go against the Dark Lord's twisted sense of humor, nor did he dare report it to the professor.

"?????"

Professor McGonagall's expression was filled with confusion, while Snape immediately shot an irritated glare toward the Slytherin table, where a student who wasn't even in Slytherin was seated.

"Get up here at once! That joke wasn't funny at all!"

McGonagall urged him, and Draco, wishing he could vanish into the floor, breathed a sigh of relief and scurried up to the stool.

"Perhaps you'd do well in Ravenclaw?" The Sorting Hat teased inside his head.

The light-haired boy, always so full of pride, went pale at the joke.

Fortunately, the Hat was only teasing.

"Slytherin!"

It finally shouted out his placement. As Draco ran toward the Slytherin table, he caught sight of Ian, and his footsteps hesitated slightly.

The cheers and applause did not bring him any joy. Instead, they made him feel smothered. He deliberately chose a seat as far away from Ian and Aurora as possible.

"Harry Potter!" Professor McGonagall continued the Sorting.

After some time—

She finally called out the name that everyone knew.

The crowd immediately perked up, their attention laser-focused.

"Did she just say 'Potter'?"

"The Harry Potter?"

Just before the hat dropped over his eyes, Harry saw everyone in the hall craning their necks to get a better look at him.

Then—

His vision went black.

The nervous Boy Who Lived sat there patiently, waiting. Perhaps he was having a conversation with the Sorting Hat.

No one knew for sure.

Time passed slowly.

Even Professor McGonagall began to grow confused. Why hadn't the Sorting Hat made a decision yet?

And then—

"Slytherin!"

The Sorting Hat declared its verdict.

"Huh?"

It wasn't just Ian, who had been mooching food off the Slytherin table, who was stunned.

Even at the staff table—

The usually smiling Albus Dumbledore suddenly leaned forward, his half-moon spectacles obscuring any readable expression.

Ian noticed it.

This old Headmaster, whose origins in time remained unknown, had been discreetly watching Harry Potter's scar the entire time…

(End of Chapter)

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