"So?" Ivan asked casually, showing no hesitation in talking to the Sorting Hat.
He wasn't fazed by the idea of conversing with a magical hat; in fact, he found it interesting. Of all the enchanted items at Hogwarts, the Sorting Hat was unique. It held a certain creativity—a rare quality among magical creations. Most items crafted by alchemy were lifeless and limited, lacking the personal touch the hat seemed to possess. This creativity revealed just how powerful the magic of the four founders must have been when they made it.
"How about Slytherin?" the Sorting Hat suggested after a pause, speaking in a thoughtful tone. "I can sense your bloodline is extremely pure. Even the four founders who created me didn't have blood as strong as yours."
If Salazar Slytherin were still around, Ivan thought, he'd be thrilled to meet someone like him. He could almost picture Slytherin clashing with Gryffindor over his placement. The ancient Ambrosius bloodline ran through Ivan's veins, and it was potent. In the magical world, pure blood was considered the height of power and prestige, and Ivan's lineage was as pure as it came.
"Sorry," Ivan replied politely but firmly. "I'm not too interested in joining the Serpentine House. How about you reconsider, Mr. Hat?"
"Well, then," the Hat continued, undeterred, "how about Ravenclaw? You're exceptionally clever, wise, and gifted. Both Slytherin and Ravenclaw would suit you very well."
Ravenclaw, the house of wisdom, seemed appealing. Ivan was deeply passionate about magic, and the academic atmosphere of Ravenclaw would likely help him grow. There was a lot he could gain from being in the house known for its dedication to learning.
"Ravenclaw?" Ivan echoed thoughtfully. He had a positive impression of Ravenclaw and thought it would be an excellent choice if he were alone. But ever since Hermione had been sorted into Gryffindor, Ivan had started leaning towards joining her. In a way, his decision was already made.
He didn't want Slytherin, despite its legacy of ambition and power. It was known for its cutthroat nature, a house filled with pure-blooded families who often held outdated beliefs about blood purity—people like the Malfoys. Some might argue that it would benefit Ivan to form alliances with pure-blooded nobles in Slytherin, but he disagreed.
"To me, they're like insects," Ivan thought. "Why would I want to win them over?"
In the world of wizards, power spoke louder than alliances or politics. For Slytherin, it didn't matter how well-connected or charming you were if you had real magical strength. People would seek him out naturally if he proved powerful enough. Why waste time making friends with people he could command with just a flick of his wand?
This wasn't to say there weren't talented students in Slytherin, but Ivan felt no need to invest his time in building relationships there. The potential rewards just weren't worth the effort.
"It seems you've made up your mind," the Sorting Hat remarked with a sigh, sensing Ivan's certainty. "Then, Gryffindor!!"
The Hat's voice rang out, declaring his house. Ivan stood up, gracefully removed the Hat, and handed it to Professor McGonagall, who looked positively delighted and even a bit emotional.
"Welcome to Gryffindor, young Ivan," she said warmly, her voice tinged with pride. Ivan returned her smile, then strode confidently over to the Gryffindor table. He was greeted with open arms and cheers, as though Gryffindor had just received a new leader.
Neville Longbottom, sitting beside Hermione, quickly made space for him. "I was so worried you'd end up in another house," Hermione admitted as Ivan took his seat. She was clearly relieved, as were Neville, Harry, and Ron, who all seemed genuinely pleased to have him.
The Sorting Ceremony soon concluded, and Dumbledore rose to address the students. His face lit up with a wide smile, and he opened his arms, as if gathering all the students into a warm embrace. It was obvious that nothing pleased him more than seeing them all here together.
"Welcome!" Dumbledore began. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. Before we begin our feast, I have just a few words: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
The hall erupted into applause and laughter as Dumbledore sat down. And with that, the feast magically appeared on the tables: roasted meats, sausages, potatoes in all forms, vegetables, Yorkshire puddings, and sauces. Ivan, Hermione, and the other first-years, who had been quite hungry, eagerly began filling their plates.
Ivan, though he had been in this world for some time, was still adjusting to the British cuisine. However, he had to admit that Hogwarts' food was exceptional, and he, like the rest of his table, happily enjoyed the meal.
After they'd all eaten their fill, the plates magically cleared, and the dessert course appeared. Puddings, cakes, ice cream, fruit pies, and other treats filled the tables. The younger students were soon chatting about their families and lives, the conversation light and cheerful.
Harry quickly became the center of attention, with his classmates curious about his life with Muggles. However, he didn't seem too keen on talking about his difficult childhood, so the conversation shifted to Ivan.
Hermione, as studious as ever, was asking Percy Weasley, a senior student, about tips for studying Transfiguration. She had already been practicing some spells on her own but was still relatively new to the subject.
"Not just her," Ivan thought, realizing he, too, hadn't fully mastered Transfiguration before starting at Hogwarts.
"Hey, Ivan," Harry asked, looking at him with admiration, "how did you learn so many spells already?"
Harry seemed eager to learn and clearly looked up to Ivan. Ivan, not wanting to dampen Harry's enthusiasm, shared a few tips for basic spell-casting techniques.
While they were chatting, Harry suddenly winced, his hand going to his forehead as he looked over toward the teachers' table. Ivan followed his gaze and saw Professor Snape watching them intently. But Ivan's focus quickly shifted to Professor Quirrell, who was sitting beside Snape.
Behind Quirrell's head, Ivan noticed a faint gray mist. It was hard to spot, but it was there.
"That must be Voldemort's current form," Ivan thought to himself.
He wasn't sure if Dumbledore was aware of it, but Ivan had no desire to involve himself in Dumbledore's plan for "the Chosen One." For now, he would stick to his own path and enjoy the feast without worrying about matters that didn't concern him directly.
Satisfied, Ivan returned to his dessert, savoring each bite.
When the puddings and sweets finally vanished from the plates, Dumbledore stood again, signaling the end of the feast, and the hall fell silent.
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