Hogwarts Raven

Daphne chose to steady herself amid the horror and uncertainty of what lay ahead. The Slytherin table was in complete disarray.

"She can't be dead, can she?"

A young wizard rushed to check Daphne's breath, while other professors at the staff table also stood up, making Snape's sudden movement seem less out of place.

"Children, please step back a bit."

Professor Pomona Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff House, hurried down from the stage to assess Daphne at the Slytherin table.

"This child has merely fainted, likely from overwhelming emotions." She let out a sigh of relief, her gaze shifting to Dumbledore at the staff table.

"Sorting is a momentous occasion in every young wizard's life; perhaps Miss Greengrass was just too excited." Professor McGonagall spoke and she also appeared to have memorized the names of most of the young wizards.

"Indeed."

Dumbledore nodded, contemplating for a moment. "Let Professor Sprout take her to the infirmary first; I will follow up with Professor Snape later."

The headmaster made the necessary arrangements.

Naturally, no one present would object.

"Poppy will take excellent care of her." Professor Sprout promptly lifted Daphne and headed toward the door.

Only after she and Daphne had completely vanished did the young wizards turn their gazes away, and the professors resumed their seats at the staff table.

Only Snape remained standing.

At that moment, the expression on the Head of Slytherin House was inscrutable, his dark eyes fixed on Ian, who was still perched on the four-legged stool.

More specifically, it was about the Sorting Hat that Ian had yet to remove from his head.

"Professor Snape, please control your emotions."

Only after Dumbledore spoke softly did Snape sit back down, his face clouded with gloom— he no longer focused on the Sorting Hat but instead shot an annoyed glare at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore, feeling somewhat uncomfortable under Snape's gaze, lowered his voice to reassure him, "The Sorting Hat has its own judgment; I trust it will provide a reasonable explanation."

This was clearly not the response Snape desired.

However, in front of so many students, both young and old, he couldn't very well challenge Dumbledore. He quickly reined in his emotions, sitting up straight with a blank expression.

Yet, his habitual hand, tucked into his black robe, remained tightly gripping a potion he had brewed the night before, the pressure seemingly enough to shatter the glass vial.

"What happened?"

Ian, having chatted a bit more with the Sorting Hat about the former Lady Ravenclaw, found everything calm when he finally removed the hat.

He turned to the staff table, where Dumbledore smiled at him, and Snape sat with his head bowed, lost in thought. The atmosphere felt perfectly normal.

"Your Sorting is complete, Mr. Prince. Please return the Sorting Hat to its rightful place; it's nearly time for the next young wizard to make their choice."

Professor McGonagall gently reminded Ian.

"Of course, Professor."

Ian promptly set down the Sorting Hat and walked toward the Ravenclaw table, where he was warmly welcomed by his fellow students. A male student even stood up to shake his hand.

The student wore a special badge on his chest, presumably indicating he was the Ravenclaw Prefect.

"Dietrich Wiggins."

This Sixth Year Prefect introduced himself, and Ian nodded earnestly in response.

"Ian Prince. I hope the seniors will look after me this year." He shook hands with every enthusiastic classmate before settling into the area designated for young wizards.

"Absolutely, no problem! Haha, maybe we can avoid losing points in Potions class this year."

Prefect Dietrich seemed quite cheerful. As the brightest group at Hogwarts, the Ravenclaw students quickly picked up on some amusing quirks.

"Zorro Pagaro!"

Professor McGonagall on stage called out the name of the next young wizard.

One by one, the Sorting continued.

As expected, Cho Chang was not swayed by the butterfly effect of history and was sorted into Ravenclaw, choosing to sit next to Ian.

Compared to other unfamiliar young wizards, it was easier to connect with classmates who had shared a boat ride.

"I bet Greengrass is regretting it now." Cho Chang whispered her thoughts to Ian.

"Goodness, I didn't realize your friend came from such a... prominent family." Although Cho Chang was of Chinese descent, she was still from a pure-blood family.

She had clearly heard of Grindelwald.

"Merlin will watch over Miss Greengrass; don't worry." Ian was now looking forward to the meal, having eaten only once since morning.

"I hope she can apologize to you properly; it was simply rude of her to say those things." Cho Chang said even though she didn't seem very familiar with Daphne.

"Let's give a round of applause for all the new students."

Dumbledore stood to begin the opening speech after the Sorting concluded.

"Due to the unfortunate incident with Professor Hannibal last semester, he was forced to leave Hogwarts, so now I would like to introduce the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for this semester— Professor Ronnie Erich."

With that, Dumbledore turned to a middle-aged wizard at the staff table, who had a rather stern expression and slightly graying golden short hair.

When Dumbledore mentioned this professor's name, he also acknowledged the young wizards before returning to his serious silence.

"Don't be misled by our professor's serious demeanor; he is undoubtedly an expert in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and I believe he will be an excellent teacher and ally."

Ian didn't pay much attention to Dumbledore's introduction.

After all, such an unfamiliar name would likely only remain at Hogwarts for a year, and who knows where Dumbledore finds these temporary staff members each year.

Yes, temporary.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts position was once cursed by the noseless Voldemort, and wizards daring to take this role almost invariably faced misfortune or accidents within a year.

Lightly injured.

Or worse, dead without a trace.

The Goblet of Fire Triwizard Tournament is just for show; it can be said that these brave Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers are the true champions.

They are the real heroes.

"I suppose everyone is hungry; so without further wait, let's enjoy the feast."

Just as Ian tied his napkin and began wiping his plate with a tissue, Dumbledore on stage timely announced the start of tonight's banquet.

He did not use the vague "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" catchphrase, but with a clap of his hands, a variety of delicacies appeared out of thin air on the empty plates along the long tables.

Roast beef, lamb legs, pork chops, roast chicken, fried chips, boiled potatoes, baked potatoes... the selection was vast, though the cooking methods were as simple as those of Muggles.

Of course, this did not affect Ian's hearty appetite.

He was truly starving, his eyes nearly glowing with hunger.

(End of chapter)

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