When the Sorting Hat pronounced the name "Azkaban" clearly, the atmosphere around the professors' seats fell silent for a moment.
The professors stared in astonishment at the Sorting Hat. Their gazes flickered between Dracula and the hat on his head, their expressions showing utter shock.
"After all these years as headmaster, it's the first time I've learned that Hogwarts has a fifth house!" Dumbledore was the first to speak, cheerfully saying, "Let's congratulate Professor Dracula on becoming the first member of House Azkaban. His promotion to Head of Azkaban will be just around the corner!"
Dumbledore led the applause.
Professor Kettleburn, who had only one arm and half a leg, found the situation amusing and hobbled over to Snape's seat with his cane.
"Severus, now that there's a new house, I suppose Slytherin students no longer need to go through the usual process. They can go straight to Azkaban!" He cheerfully patted Snape's shoulder with his remaining hand, laughing loudly, "Why go through seven years of schooling just to end up in Azkaban? What a hassle!"
As an old-school Hufflepuff, Professor Kettleburn naturally enjoyed poking fun at Slytherin. After all, Slytherins had long looked down upon the Hufflepuff witches and wizards.
Snape's face darkened, but given Professor Kettleburn's decades of experience, a mere thirty-year-old like him could do little but endure.
Listening to the surrounding professors' jabs, Dracula's mouth twitched.
"Are you itching for another taste of being burned?" He took the Sorting Hat off his head, looking displeased, and said, "Don't think I don't know; you're probably still holding a grudge about the cleaning job I did for you and want to get revenge!"
"Lord… Lord Count, I didn't!" the Sorting Hat said with a tone of feigned innocence, "It's Christmas, after all. I just wanted to make a joke and lighten the mood…"
"Well, it's true that the Christmas feast could use a bit more entertainment to liven things up." Dracula looked at the hat in his hand, a malicious smile forming on his lips. "So, I'm planning to give everyone here a performance of the Sorting Hat jumping through a ring of fire. I'll need your cooperation for that."
Dracula twirled the Sorting Hat in one hand. In its panicked little expression, he snapped his fingers, and a blazing ring of fire appeared in front of the Sorting Hat.
"Wait, Lord Count, I haven't finished what I wanted to say!" The Sorting Hat said in a slightly panicked whisper, "I have reasons for this; it's related to the four founders!"
It deliberately controlled its voice so only Dracula could hear. Dracula's gaze shifted slightly.
In the next moment, the fire ring vanished abruptly, and the Sorting Hat stopped spinning, drooping lifelessly in Dracula's hand.
"This hat needs to be scared occasionally, or it'll come up with all sorts of nonsense." He smiled at the curious professors around him, elegantly placing the Sorting Hat back on his head. "Now that my Christmas hat is perfectly in place, let's all get back to eating. The main course will be cleared soon."
Once the other professors shifted their attention away, Dracula adjusted the brim of the Sorting Hat with his hand.
"We can begin now. Let me see what excuse you've come up with this time." He wore the hat and began a silent communication with it, using the Sorting Hat's mind-reading ability as a bridge.
"Lord Count, I'm having a tough time!" The Sorting Hat's voice echoed in Dracula's mind, starting with complaints, "You know, your life has spanned a thousand years! Even accounting for your periods of slumber, that's still seven or eight hundred years! Even though you've deliberately lifted the brain-blocking spell, I can't determine which founder's temperament you align with from this vast stretch of time…"
"So you're saying I'm making it difficult for you?" Dracula asked, putting a bite of blood pudding into his mouth while communicating mentally.
"Not exactly." The Sorting Hat said earnestly, "It's just that my abilities are lacking. I'll definitely strive to improve!"
"I actually thought you'd just make up a house for me, at least to get by." Dracula chuckled.
"I wanted to, but I couldn't." The Sorting Hat explained, "A thousand years ago, the four great founders of Hogwarts infused their thoughts into my being, granting me the unique ability to sort students into houses based on their talents and qualities."
"But the founders' wills have remained within me, and their memories and feelings about you, Lord Count, have persisted for a long time. If that was just a minor issue, the real problem is that the founders' thoughts argue with each other!"
"Wait, you're saying the thoughts left by Salazar and Godric and the others argue with each other?"
Dracula became interested immediately, setting aside his pudding and sitting up straight, ready to listen to the Sorting Hat's story.
"Indeed. In fact, when I was placed on your head, the residual wills of the four founders all wanted me to place you in their respective houses. As you know, Ravenclaw has always had a strong fondness for you, while Gryffindor and Slytherin have both tried to prove which of them had the greatest impact on you…"
"Those three, really." Dracula shook his head with a light smile, his eyes reflecting a nostalgic and reminiscent expression.
At that time, he was far from the fearsome vampire count he would later become. The four founders of Hogwarts were also just young wizards starting out, and there was a vampire friend who joined midway. The five of them walked together across the frozen surface of the Black Lake, a memory from a thousand years ago.
Lost in recollection for a while, Dracula suddenly thought of a question.
"Why didn't you mention Helga? Doesn't she want me in Hufflepuff?" he asked the Sorting Hat in his mind.
"Lord Count, please wake up." The Sorting Hat couldn't help but mock, "Look at you—where do you see any qualities of integrity, loyalty, honesty, or hard work… The Hufflepuff mindset has long since given up hope and hasn't participated in the arguments of the other three founders. Instead, they've acted as mediators."
Dracula's face darkened.
"After all that, it's still the same question." His tone took on a mischievous edge. "Why did you shout out 'Azkaban'?"
"Well… that…" The Sorting Hat, feeling nervous, said, "Why don't you blame Gryffindor? As a Gryffindor hat, I must have inherited some of his misplaced sense of humor. Yes, that must be it!"