Professor McGonagall guided the new students to the front of the auditorium, where they lined up in front of all the senior students, with the professors standing behind them.
The older students watched with curiosity, trying to guess which house each of the new students would be sorted into.
And, of course, many eyes were on the crowd, eagerly trying to spot the famous Harry Potter.
As the audience waited in silence, Professor McGonagall gently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years and set a pointed, timeworn wizard hat upon it.
The hat was patched, worn, and visibly old.
A hush fell over the auditorium. Everyone was watching the hat, eager to see what would happen next.
Dracula, too, stared at the hat, his expression a mix of nostalgia and curiosity.
The hat seemed to twitch, then twisted and opened a wide slit—like a mouth.
And with a not-so-pleasant voice, it began to sing:
"You may not think I'm pretty, but don't judge a book by its cover. If you only..."
As the hat sang, it became more animated, turning around and using the folds of its fabric as eyes to gaze at the new students.
"I am the Sorting Hat of Hogwarts, far superior to your average hat," it boasted.
But then, as the Sorting Hat was observing the students, it caught sight of a figure sitting at the professor's table.
"Try it on, and I'll tell you... you should aaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH..."
The scream was abrupt and unsettling, echoing throughout the hall. At that exact moment, a dark flame flickered into existence in Dracula's hand.
The hat's song and scream cut off immediately.
Normally, the Sorting Hat would finish its song, the audience would applaud, and the Sorting Ceremony would begin as expected. But this year, something was different.
The hat had screamed midway through its song, then stopped completely.
The freshmen were confused, the older students were puzzled, and even the professors exchanged confused glances.
Only Dumbledore seemed to understand, offering a knowing look toward Dracula.
"Sorting Hat, what's going on?" Professor McGonagall asked sharply, standing up.
The Sorting Hat began to speak, but as it did, it noticed the figure who had frightened it rise along with Professor McGonagall.
"Keep singing; your song is quite lovely," Dracula said, his lips curling into a knowing smile.
"I... I forgot the words," the Sorting Hat admitted, its voice trembling.
"Then just make up a song," Dracula suggested, his smile growing more intrigued. "The ceremony must continue."
"Professor Dracula?" Professor McGonagall asked, eyeing him with confusion.
The Sorting Hat, however, noticed a faint, dark flame flickering dangerously at Dracula's fingertips.
"I... I'm fine," the hat stammered, swallowing nervously—if hats could even do that.
It turned back toward the long tables of students, visibly relieved that the vampire was no longer in sight.
Clearing its throat, the Sorting Hat began to sing again, though this time it was much more composed:
"You may admire Gryffindor,
For courage, boldness, and daring galore;
You may admire Hufflepuff,
For tenacity and strength, when times are tough;
You may admire Ravenclaw,
For wisdom and learning, a gift to all;
You may be in awe of Slytherin,
For ambition that pushes, no matter the cost."
The Sorting Hat continued, singing a new verse on the qualities of the four Hogwarts houses, each a tribute to the founders. Then, unexpectedly, it shifted the subject:
"But young wizard, heed this well,
Their best friend, the stories tell—
Knowledgeable, talented, full of flair,
Wild and free, with wind-blown hair.
Invincible, handsome, unrestrained,
Unmatched in all, untamed and unchained—
He..."
....
Dracula's eyes twitched as he listened to the ballad spun by the Sorting Hat.
The first part, though somewhat fitting, was nothing more than a precursor. But the flattering words that followed? They were a stretch, to say the least. It was as if the Sorting Hat had decided to throw in every compliment it had gathered over the last thousand years.
"Ahem!" Dracula cleared his throat with a dramatic cough.
The Sorting Hat, sensing the shift in atmosphere, immediately ended its impromptu performance:
"If you don't know him,
Just remember,
The founder's best friends are always by your side!"
The song came to a swift end. The audience, after a moment of stunned silence, broke into applause. Students and professors alike whispered among themselves, trying to piece together who this "best friend" might be—someone who seemingly embodied the finest qualities of all humanity.
The Sorting Hat, still feeling the weight of Dracula's gaze, glanced sideways at him. Noticing no signs of another fiery outburst, the hat bowed cautiously to each of the four house tables in turn before settling down completely. The ceremony, despite its unexpected turn, had reached its conclusion.
Professor McGonagall, having stood for what seemed like an eternity, let out a quiet sigh of relief. She moved forward with a roll of parchment in her hand.
"Whoever's name I call now will put on the hat, sit on the stool, and await sorting," she said. "Hannah Abbott!"
---
After the sorting ceremony found its rhythm, things proceeded smoothly without further interruption.
The most attention-grabbing moment was, of course, the sorting of Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived. The Sorting Hat hesitated for what seemed like an eternity atop his head, as if weighing an unimaginable decision, before finally declaring:
"Gryffindor!"
At the sound of the Sorting Hat's words, the Gryffindor table erupted into cheers and excitement. Among the students, the Weasley twins were the first to jump up and down, their enthusiasm impossible to contain. This time, no one scolded them. Even though Principal Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall remained composed, the joy in their hearts was undeniable.
As Gryffindor's cheers filled the room, the other houses sighed in resignation, but the sorting ceremony came to a satisfying and harmonious conclusion.
And now, the moment everyone had been eagerly awaiting—the opening feast!
Albus Dumbledore stood, his gaze sweeping over the students, and his arms opened wide in a gesture of warmth. It was clear that there was nothing that pleased him more than to see the students gathered before him, ready to embark on another year at Hogwarts.
"Welcome!" he said, his voice filled with joy. "Welcome to Hogwarts as we begin the new school year! Before the banquet begins, I would like to say a few words."
Suddenly, his voice faltered. "I... uh..." He paused, sniffling as he wiped his nose. "Stupid running nose... sniff... Oh, screw it!" He shook his head, clearing his throat. "Thank you all!"
With that brief speech, the students, who had been waiting impatiently with rumbling stomachs, eagerly dove into the feast.
Meanwhile, Dracula, sitting quietly at the table, gave the Maoxuewang on his plate a disapproving glance. With a soft tap of his spoon, he summoned the dish to change, replacing it with a steaming bowl of Polish duck blood soup. Satisfied with his choice, he took a slow, deliberate sip, his expression one of contentment.
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