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Ten seconds later:
"Silence."
That cold, aged voice cut through the whispers. Every child went quiet. Like someone hit mute.
A thin old man with graying hair emerged from behind the flaming entrance hall. Bronze robes. Hands behind his back. Eyes sharp as a hawk's.
Some school teacher.
Hofa's chest tightened. The instant he saw this old man, he knewâHogwarts now was far stricter than fifty years later.
The old man walked slowly past the first-years, hands clasped behind him. "You'll learn much at Hogwarts. But firstânot magic. Discipline."
Wherever his gaze swept, heads dropped.
"The Sorting begins shortly. Whichever house sorts youâthat's final. No arguments. Follow me."
Terse. No explanations.
One hand behind his back, he turned toward the entrance hall. Walked with commanding authority.
The first-years followed through a Gothic corridor dozens of meters high. Flames burned every ten meters on the walls.
Students whispered nearby.
"That's Deputy Headmaster Adebe?"
"...Fiercer than the rumors."
"Shh!"
Barely two sentences before someone hushed them. Fear showed on their faces. Some shrank back.
Adebe Goshawk. So that was him.
Hofa glanced at Miranda's calm face.
Her grandfather. Looked strict.
Hofa observed his surroundings. No wandering ghosts. Only first-year footsteps. Eyes in oil paintings followed them, but stayed silent.
Through the corridor. Into Hogwarts' Great Hall.
Solemn. Dim. Blue-green carpet.
Noise grew slightly louder, but restrained whispers only. Nothing like the train's carefree chatter.
Not romantic like later novels. No hundreds of burning candles. No welcoming prefects.
Braziers provided the lighting.
Braziers lined the walls. As first-years walked, braziers lit. The hall brightened gradually.
Above the domed ceiling, thousands of stars rotated slowly in darkness.
Like ancient astrology. Profound. Mysterious. Serious. Rigid.
Hofa looked toward the staff table. Center seatâwhite-bearded old man. Sinister eyes. Thin build. Half-bald.
Armando Dippet. Current Headmaster.
One glance confirmedânothing like Dumbledore.
No kindness in those eyes. Only scrutiny.
New emperor, new court. No wonder the school reeked of rules and order.
Hofa also spotted Dumbledore. Left side of the staff table, quietly discussing something with a black-haired fat man.
Hofa recognized the fat man immediately.
Slughorn. Slytherin's Head of House.
The man who taught Voldemort about Horcruxes. Fifty-some years later, he'd return to the same position.
At a giant eagle statue before the staff table, Deputy Headmaster Adebe Goshawk turned. Beside himâhigh stool with blue cushion.
On the stoolâgray, wrinkled hat.
"Form a line."
Professor Goshawk's cold voice.
Flat tone, but every first-year obeyed instantly. Formed a line.
Goshawk pulled a long parchment roll from his sleeve.
"When called, come forward. Wear the Sorting Hat."
"Ekaran Mitte..."
A boy jogged forward. Fumbled with the hat. The Sorting Hat shouted immediately:
"Gryffindor!"
Faint applause from the left table. Restrained clapping. Nothing like the enthusiasm in later books.
"Alphard Black." Goshawk continued.
Hofa knew that surname well.
Black.
Sirius's family.
He looked up. Boy in black robes, cold expression. Parted the crowd. Sat on the stool.
The Sorting Hat hesitated. Long time. Then sorted him into Slytherin. Black frowned. Looked unhappy.
Hofa watched the boy pass. Wondered about his relation to future Sirius Black.
Shortly after, another familiar name.
"Eileen Prince."
Prince? Eileen Prince?
Snape's mom?
Hofa's head shot up.
Black-haired girl. Pale. Greasy hair. Freckles around her nose. Worried expression.
She jogged nervously to the Hat. It sorted her quickly into Slytherin.
Hofa's eyes had opened today. Everyone hereâancestors of future famous people. He even wonderedâif he hooked up with Eileen Prince, could he become Snape's dad...
Hofa shook his head. Twisted thoughts in this solemn hall weren't good.
Besides, Eileen wasn't pretty...
The Sorting Hat worked fast sometimes. Slow other times.
Fast onesâseconds.
Slow onesâup to a minute. Everyone waited silently. No noise.
People went forward one by one. Aside from famous family surnames, Hofa rarely heard familiar names.
Suddenly, Goshawk called: "Aglaia S. Deraseth."
Blue-eyed, silver-haired girl walked out. Sat expressionlessly on the stool.
Hofa's eyes widened.
So that was her name. Long and pretentious.
The Hat barely touched her silver hair before shouting: "Ravenclaw!"
Damn. Hofa shook his head. Too bad he wasn't the Hatâhe'd send her to Slytherin.
Aglaia put down the Hat. Walked down. Passed Hofa with a mocking smile. Like she was ridiculing his train judgment.
If he were Harry, she'd definitely be the Malfoy type...
"Tom Marvolo Riddle."
The Deputy Headmaster's voice interrupted his thoughts.
Hofa looked up. Wanted to witness this historic moment.
Slender Tom parted the crowd. Walked slowly to the Hat. Seemed calm, but Hofa noticedâclenched fists, bulging veins. Clearly excited inside.
One second.
The Hat: "Slytherin!"
The rightmost table burst into applause. Three times warmer than others. Remarkable in this serious atmosphere.
Less than an afternoon on the train, Tom had won most of Slytherin's favor.
The boy put down the Hat. Hofa saw relief flash across his face.
Rare. Voldemort had such emotions.
After a dozen more, Goshawk finally called expressionlessly:
"Hofa Bach."
Miranda pushed Hofa gently. He walked out.
No one reacted. Just an ordinary name to them.
But one person's eyes widened.
Aglaia sat in Ravenclaw's corner. Expressionless. Uninterested.
When she saw Hofa walk out, confusion first.
Then her face turned livid. Humiliated fury shot through her. She slammed her fist on the table. Nearby Ravenclaws glanced over.
"Bastard..."
Aglaia ground out through clenched teeth. Only now she realizedâthis boy wasn't Miller Goshawk. He was Hofa Bach.
His train disregardâthe greatest insult to her.
Hofa didn't know he'd offended a Ravenclaw. He sat on the stool. Nervously put on the hat.
Easy to say. But when the moment cameâcouldn't help being nervous.
The moment he wore it, the Hat sighed softly.
"Difficult... very difficult... Haven't seen such a difficult student in ages. Brave? Yes. Good heart. Smart. Ambitious too. Well-rounded. All four houses suit you."
Hofa was speechless. Roundabout way of saying he had no distinguishing features?
Time passed. Longer than anyone. Three full minutes. Hofa still sat there.
Professor Goshawk glanced at him again.
The Hat kept muttering.
"...First, rule out Hufflepuff. You don't fit... Next, Slytherin. Ambitious, but not enough. Not Slytherin standard."
Hofa's breathing quickened.
The Hat: "SoâGryffindor and Ravenclaw. Let me think..."
Hofa felt nervous. Ravenclawânormally fine. But after that silver-haired girl, he didn't want the same house as her.
Suddenly, inspiration struck. He remembered Harry wearing the Hat. It struggled between Gryffindor and Slytherin. But Harry chose. Chose Gryffindor.
Hofa followed suit. Chanted in his mind:
Not Ravenclaw... not Ravenclaw... not Ravenclaw...
The Sorting Hat shouted in an earth-shattering voice: "RAVENCLAW!"
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