Chapter 45. What It Means to Be Ironclad
The opening ceremony was always dull, even in the magical world.
Fifteen minutes into the ceremony, William deeply grasped this truth of life.
The only people in the world who could be happy about an opening ceremony were the parents who didn't have to attend.
No, wait; perhaps one also had to include the underage wizards and witches who had been cooped up all summer. William personally saw some students at the four house tables below secretly pulling out their wands and trying to cast spells under the table. Clearly, they had been holding back for too long during the holidays.
Come to think of it, could the ban on casting magic during the summer be partly meant to prevent students from developing a resistance to the idea of returning to school?
The thought was chilling.
William aimlessly scanned the students, not because he was particularly antisocial, but because Lockhart's relentless self-promotion had resulted in William being quietly ostracized by the other professors.
If he were a Hogwarts alumnus, it might have been easier; reminiscing about old times would always spark some shared topics. But what was William supposed to do? Share his daily life in Azkaban with these professors?
As for Lockhart, he remained blissfully unaware of how much he was disliked. He was enthusiastically chatting with the Head of Hufflepuff House, Professor Pomona Sprout, bragging about rare plants he had supposedly seen in America. The normally kind-hearted Professor's face was growing visibly irritated, yet Lockhart continued to chatter on incessantly.
Just as William was idly observing the students' antics, a Professor suddenly rose from her chair. She quietly moved her chair and shifted it next to William.
"Professor William, sorry to disturb you for a moment."
The middle-aged witch wore an apologetic expression, but her determined gaze told William that if she didn't get an answer this time, she'd come back again.
"Please, have a seat. May I ask who you are?"
"Charity Burbage, Professor of Muggle Studies."
She introduced herself in a gentle tone, referring to a subject William wasn't familiar with.
"I apologize. I know my question might seem overly forward, especially to someone I've just met, but this issue has been troubling me for a long time, and I'm desperate for an answer."
She pulled out her wand and made a subtle movement.
"I promise, no wizard here, not even Dumbledore, will be able to hear our conversation."
"Professor William, I'm sorry, but may I ask; what do people in Azkaban think of Muggles?"
The question was indeed as blunt as she had warned.
"Apologies, Professor Burbage, but I'm not willing to discuss what happened there." William refused decisively.
This response clearly wasn't something the professor had anticipated; her expression instantly turned despondent.
"I'm sorry; I was too hasty…" Professor Burbage apologized hurriedly, her movements flustered as she hastily moved her chair back to its original spot.
William understood that her actions were mostly well-intentioned. New professors always needed someone to act as a bridge to integrate them into the circles of the more senior staff. After her conversation with William, most of the other professors would likely naturally accept him, rather than leaving him ostracized as he currently was; largely due to Lockhart's penchant for showing off, which had unintentionally dragged William into being excluded as well.
Still, being treated as a research subject gave William a strange feeling; probably an aftereffect of Azkaban. He always felt like letting others study him was akin to being surrounded by Dementors in his cell, offering himself as a buffet.
He could easily joke with Tom about his time in Azkaban or complain to Hagrid about that hellish place, but as soon as someone actively brought it up, he would immediately feel extremely uncomfortable.
Fortunately, at that moment, the first-year students, led by Professor McGonagall, finally began their Sorting Ceremony. This lifted the spirits of the professors and swept away the awkward atmosphere from earlier.
***
Rows of first-year students lined up awkwardly, standing stiffly under Professor McGonagall's guidance at the front of the hall, facing all the upper-year students.
Their expressions were rigid, their faces pale; they didn't look like they were about to be sorted. They looked like they were marching off to war.
William froze for a moment. Wait; was Hogwarts' Sorting Ceremony supposed to involve students putting down their wands and fighting each other?
If that were the case, based on the "chain of discrimination" regarding the four Hogwarts houses he'd heard about in prison, it should go like this: the fiercest fighters would end up in Gryffindor, the ones who hid and waited for the fight to end would go to Ravenclaw, those who bribed their opponents would be sorted into Slytherin, and the leftovers would go to Hufflepuff.
At that thought, William couldn't help but laugh aloud.
Then, as if his laughter were contagious, the entire table of professors began chuckling as well.
Lockhart, of course, flashed his teeth again in a dazzling smile.
"Haha, after all these years, the school rules haven't changed, have they?"
No one picked up his remark.
Left with no one to talk to, Lockhart turned to William, his face full of smugness. "Hogwarts has this rule; you're not allowed to reveal anything about the Sorting Ceremony to children who haven't been enrolled yet. Everyone comes up with all sorts of excuses to trick them. I bet most of the kids down there think they'll have to fight each other."
Who came up with such a pointless rule?
And to think it had been upheld for generations, just to watch the first-years look so nervous and scared?
Well, to be fair, it was entertaining; William had to admit that.
Especially after hearing Lockhart's explanation, the whole thing took on an even more wickedly amusing edge.
While Lockhart was going on about it, Professor McGonagall gently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first-years, then picked up a pointed wizard's hat and set it on the stool.
The patched, old hat looked like it was from an era long gone, so worn-out it seemed hardly worth the effort to clean.
As William waited for Lockhart to launch into another flamboyant explanation, the shabby hat suddenly opened its brim and began to sing.
The singing was off-key and downright unpleasant. By the time William had endured the entire song with a frown, he realized that many of the professors had used magic to block their ears.
I let my guard down.
William noticed that even Lockhart beside him hadn't forgotten to shield his ears, and he immediately regretted his own foolishness.
He might not have understood Hogwarts' peculiar traditions, but the other professors clearly did. When faced with such "unique" events, following their lead would have ensured he avoided any mishaps.
When the Sorting Hat's song finally ended, applause filled the hall, as though everyone was celebrating the relief of their ears being freed at last. The singing hat, however, appeared to take the applause as genuine appreciation, bowing to the four corners of the hall in response.
Once the applause faded, Professor McGonagall stepped forward, holding a piece of parchment, and approached the Sorting Hat.
"When I call your name, put on the hat, sit on the stool, and wait to be sorted," she announced loudly. Then, raising the parchment, she read the first name aloud…
"Hannah Abbott!"
The hall fell silent. William noticed that everyone at the Hufflepuff table turned their heads toward a particular student.
Even Professor McGonagall froze for a moment, staring at the parchment in confusion. She carefully scrutinized it before speaking again.
"My apologies, everyone. Something happened earlier today, and I accidentally brought last year's list."
....
Want to read more?
Read next 35+ Chapters and alpha access to new novel on -patreon.com/dontbothertl
Join discord: https://discord.gg/MVRMY3XDr4