Professor McGonagall called out names one by one, and when it was Draco's turn, he held his head high and said to Harry in a drawling voice, "I'll definitely be in Slytherin."
He emphasized, "There's no doubt about it."
Harry glanced at his clenched fist and gave a perfunctory nod. "Yeah, yeah, go on. If you're too slow, they might put you in Gryffindor."
Draco's expression shifted. He shot Harry a fierce glare, then quickly turned and walked to the front, sitting down on the stool.
"Tch…" Harry knew immediately that Malfoy had fallen for his nonsense and couldn't help but wince slightly. "He seems a bit dim…"
"I don't remember his father being like that."
Lucius Malfoy was famously shrewd.
Beside him, Ron, who had just clashed with Draco, let out a cold snort and muttered, "Evil Slytherin…"
Harry glanced at the red-haired lad and felt his teeth ache even more. The house prejudice in this school was pretty serious.
Soon, the young witches and wizards around him were sorted one by one. Professor McGonagall looked at the next name, paused briefly, then turned to the few remaining children and announced, "Harry Potter!"
The rustling noises in the Great Hall fell silent. Countless gazes fixed on Harry from across the long tables, everyone curious about what the legendary Boy Who Lived looked like.
Harry pretended not to notice and calmly stepped forward.
He sat firmly on the stool, and Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head. There was a moment of silence.
A moment later, Harry's ear twitched as a low voice echoed in his mind. "Oh, child, let me see what's going on in your head."
"I can't see anything in your mind. How am I supposed to sort you?"
Harry pondered this. It seemed the Sorting Hat mostly relied on the memories and thoughts of young witches and wizards.
Harry thought about his own memories of gunfights at the docks.
Harry: …
Would it send him to Azkaban instead?
So he politely declined and directly proposed, "I want to go to Gryffindor."
The Sorting Hat was silent for two seconds before relenting. "Like your parents? Well, that's not a bad choice."
The Sorting Hat opened its mouth wide and declared, "Gryffindor!"
A thunderous cheer erupted from the red and gold table. "We've got Potter!"
All the Gryffindors were cheering, except for Ron Weasley.
He stared at Harry, barely concealing his shock, his eyes filled with confusion and disbelief as he muttered to himself, "He's Harry Potter? He's actually Harry Potter?"
He'd been standing with that awful Malfoy. Shouldn't he be an evil Slytherin?
Ron's brain felt like it was overheating. He couldn't make sense of it.
Harry walked over to the Gryffindor table and happened to sit down right next to Ron. Ron jolted as if waking from a dream and looked at Harry as if he wanted to say something but held back.
Then he managed to reassure himself. How could the Boy Who Lived be friends with an evil Slytherin? He probably just didn't know what the Malfoy family was like. They were a Death Eater family, the most loyal servants of You-Know-Who!
Ron cheered up again. He extended his hand to Harry. "Hello, I'm Ronald Weasley, but most people call me Ron."
Harry shook his hand. "I'm Harry Potter."
"Oh, right." Ron mumbled, his gaze involuntarily drifting to Harry's forehead, partially hidden by his fringe.
He wanted to hear the legendary story of how Harry defeated You-Know-Who and was intensely curious about the scar on Harry's forehead.
Harry understood. He could appreciate a child's curiosity about such a magical story, but he wasn't ready to show his scar. It was something his parents had paid for with their lives.
Harry glanced around the Gryffindor table, spotted several redheads, and had an idea. He deliberately adopted an envious expression. "Draco told me the Weasley family is very large."
"You must be so happy with all your brothers and sisters. Your parents must really love you." He let his expression fall. "Unlike me…"
Ron's questions died in his throat. Even his displeasure at hearing Malfoy's name vanished.
He stared at Harry, his face not only turning pale but also looking panicked. "No, no! Don't, don't be sad! Having lots of siblings isn't all that great!"
He tugged at his shabby robes, pulling them closer to Harry's face. "See, my family's poor. I don't even have my own wizard robes, and things with my brothers aren't as good as you think!"
Harry pursed his lips. Was he bragging?
"But at least you have family. Even if you argue with them, when it really matters, they'd do anything to protect you."
Harry looked at Ron, adding silently in his mind, just like my parents did.
I'm such an idiot.
Ron's face turned completely pale. He tugged at his hair, looking utterly distraught, as if he was about to bang his head on the table. Harry almost felt a bit sorry for him.
Ron looked like he was about to cry. "I'm, I'm sorry…"
"Oh, it's alright." Harry comforted him kindly. "Even though my parents are gone, I still grew up fine, didn't I?"
Ron: …
He wanted to die even more!
Tormented by guilt, he fell silent for a moment, then suddenly looked at Harry with a serious expression. "Harry, don't worry. I'll help you!"
Harry: ?
What was with this sudden burst of enthusiasm?
Ron said earnestly, "You know, my family has a bit of a name in the magical world. My parents were Gryffindors too, and Potter is a very distinctive surname in the magical world."
"I'll go back and ask them. Maybe you actually have relatives you just haven't been able to contact."
The more he spoke, the smarter Ron felt. He brightened up. "I'll write to them as soon as I get back and ask!"
"If there are, you'll be so happy! If there aren't…" He hesitated, then immediately cut off that line of thought. "No, no, there have to be some."
Ron seemed terrified of making Harry sad again and quickly added, "If there aren't, if there really aren't… that's okay too. My mum will definitely like you!"
Ron's face twisted in pain again, hating his own clumsy tongue for the first time in his life.
Harry was at a loss for words.
Just then, the Sorting Hat placed the last young wizard, Blaise Zabini, into Slytherin.
Dumbledore, seated in the middle of the staff table, stood up with a smile. He first droned on about a list of rules and then instructed the young witches and wizards to sing the school song.
Everyone sang using different melodies until two tall, thin, identical boys suddenly jumped up and led everyone astray with the tune of a funeral march.
Dumbledore wasn't angry. Instead, he slowed his conducting to match them.
Ron whispered to Harry, "Those are my brothers, George Weasley and Fred Weasley. They love pranks. You'd better watch out."
The resentment in his voice was clear.
"Oh," Harry found it amusing instead. "Your brothers seem like fun!"
After the school song, Dumbledore clapped his hands. A magnificent feast appeared on the four house tables, and the young witches and wizards began to eat.
Harry slowly pulled a lamb chop onto his plate, his mind churning over the rules Dumbledore had just announced.
The corridor on the right side of the fourth floor had been particularly emphasized.
Ron's red head appeared beside him. He had a chicken leg in his mouth and a pumpkin pasty in his hand. When he saw the lone lamb chop on Harry's plate, a look of surprise crossed his face.
"Harry, is that all you're eating?" He looked at Harry with concern and pointed a greasy finger at the bowl of chicken legs. "You should eat more."
Maybe because Harry had just played on his sympathy, Ron now looked at him and saw a delicate, shy, neglected little soul, and his concern overflowed.
Harry snapped out of his thoughts, grunted in acknowledgment, and slowly picked up a chicken leg to put on his plate.
Only then did Ron look away.
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