50: The Belated Branch!

At the front of the Great Hall.

The professors sat in straight rows on the staff podium.

Albus Dumbledore, draped in a deep purple robe, occupied the centermost seat. His silvery-white hair and beard were meticulously groomed, and his eyes behind half-moon spectacles gazed benevolently upon the assembled students.

Their eyes met.

Ian saw Dumbledore give him a subtle wink.

"This is my favorite time of year."

Filius Flitwick, diminutive in stature like a goblin, was the current Head of Ravenclaw House. His small physical form did nothing to diminish his magical prowess, which far exceeded that of most others.

"Such energetic children. I wonder how many will find their way into our house."

Pomona Sprout, the Head of Hufflepuff House, looked like a kindly housewife as she smiled warmly and expectantly at the new students stepping into the Great Hall.

"The Sorting Hat will make that choice for them."

As for Minerva McGonagall, the Head of Gryffindor, she wore the sternest expression among all the professors. Her tightly pursed lips carried the strict authority of a headmistress.

Of course, those who truly understood her knew that beneath that rigorous exterior beat a tender and gentle heart, and her reputation among the students far surpassed that of the Head of Slytherin House, who was leading them at that moment.

Severus Snape.

"Line up in the middle, all of you."

He pointed to the cleared space in the center, his voice sounding like a forced, harsh command squeezed from between his teeth, leaving an impression of overwhelming dominance in the minds of many students.

Everyone obeyed and moved forward.

"Professor Snape, thank you for your trouble."

Professor McGonagall waited until Snape had taken his seat at the staff table before stepping forward to stand before the battered old Sorting Hat. At that moment, nearly every student was gazing at her with nervous anticipation.

"Will we have to fight a troll?"

"I heard we have to catch a Fwooper."

"Rubbish, my father told me the school test is to stay in a room with a Veela."

...

Without Snape's restraint, the young wizards began whispering among themselves in hushed tones.

Inside the magnificent hall, four long tables representing the four distinct houses were already filled with older students. Above them, the magical flames of the floating candles flickered brightly beneath the enchanted ceiling.

Aurora kept gazing upward.

Ever since she saw the Sorting Hat, she no longer seemed as nervous as she had moments before.

"What are you looking at?"

Ian's own heart was beating with a mixture of excitement and anticipation.

"Why isn't any wax dripping down?"

The German girl asked in a voice tinged with a trace of regret.

"Perhaps when they cast the charm, they forgot to add a realistic melting effect." Ian was somewhat amazed by the candles overhead, which seemed entirely unchanging.

"Makes sense."

Aurora nodded.

"No matter, once I master alchemy, I'll help them fix this tiny flaw." Ian spoke with an eager tone, remembering that Teacher Mara's new assignment was still tucked away inside his trunk.

"Have you been this wicked since you were a child?"

Aurora's tone carried a hint of astonishment.

"That is an excellent question."

Ian actually appeared to begin recalling and pondering the matter, which caused Aurora to widen her eyes in sheer disbelief as she looked at him.

"Silence!"

At that precise moment, Professor McGonagall's resonant voice rang out.

The Sorting Hat, resting upon a four-legged stool, twitched appropriately, revealing a rip-like mouth and eyes. Amidst the gasps of the young wizards, it began to deliver its soulful, vaguely Gryffindor-inspired song.

In the ancient halls of Hogwarts grand,
A brand new verse I sing across the land.
Where wisdom and courage intertwine,
Each wandering soul shall find its sign.

Oh, youthful hearts with boundless dreams so bright,
Does Gryffindor's flame ignite your daring and might,
Or Slytherin's depths conceal ambition's light?
Is Hufflepuff's loyalty warm like the sun,
Or beneath Ravenclaw's wings shall your intellect run?

Hark to my voice, feel my trembling thread,
The Sorting Hat errs not, so it has been said!
If justice guides you and fears you defy,
Gryffindor's fire will reach to the sky.
If sharp is your wit and truth you pursue,
Ravenclaw's starry expanse waits for you.

If a longing for love and true friendship you prize,
Hufflepuff's meadows will welcome your eyes.
If deep are your secrets, your ambitions untold,
Slytherin's waters will mirror your gold.

Whichever path calls, young hearts, do not fear,
Let me lead you onward to your destiny here!

...

The singing was loud.

Well, extremely loud.

Ian believed that the Sorting Hat's ballad reflected, to some extent, Gryffindor's own lack of artistic refinement. Heaven only knew how Dumbledore managed to listen with such an utterly enraptured expression on his face.

"Clap, clap, clap, clap!"

Many students joined in the applause.

As the clapping gradually subsided, Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a roll of parchment, standing beside the Sorting Hat to begin calling the roll of the feline-eared newcomers.

"Grace Allison!"

The first name was called by Professor McGonagall.

Ian looked over.

A girl with a light dusting of freckles stood frozen in a daze. After being gently nudged by a neighboring wizard, she scrambled in a flurry toward Professor McGonagall.

"What do I do?"

The girl asked, completely at a loss.

"Just sit on the stool," Professor McGonagall explained in a gentle tone.

"Hufflepuff!"

When the Sorting Hat was placed upon the girl's head, a moment later, accompanied by the Hat's booming shout, everyone finally understood how the Sorting ceremony worked.

Many young wizards let out collective sighs of relief.

A few others, however, seemed somewhat disappointed.

Among them, the boy who had previously boasted about spending a room with a Veela wore the most crestfallen expression of all.

"Myen Agervos!"

Another young wizard ran up to the stage.

A moment later, the boy was sorted into Gryffindor House. One by one, young wizards were called forward, walking toward their respective houses to the booming declaration of the Sorting Hat.

"Aurora... Grindelwald!"

When Professor McGonagall pronounced that name, an instant hush fell over the Great Hall, which had previously been filled with murmurs and celebratory cheers.

Some students looked utterly horrified; others wore expressions of sheer disbelief.

The bewildered younger wizards leaned over to whisper questions to those beside them, and moments later, their complexions turned deathly pale with terror.

"What?!"

Daphne, who had been conversing with an acquaintance, turned out to be the palest among all the first-years. Her terrified eyes watched as the German girl standing beside Ian calmly walked forward.

By then, no other ambient sounds could reach Daphne's ears. She could only feel a loud buzzing inside her head, while the previously crystal-clear surroundings blurred before her vision.

"I'm finished!"

Recalling the sarcastic remarks she had casually tossed about on the boat, Daphne felt intensely dizzy, yet she paradoxically found her thoughts growing uncommonly sharp and clear.

"My entire family is finished!"

Yes, her thoughts were exceptionally clear indeed.