Chapter 10: The Eagle and the Snake

Sure enough, after a dozen seconds, a calm but authoritative voice rang out. "Silence."

The whispers among the children immediately ceased, as if someone had pressed a mute button. A thin, elderly man with graying hair slowly emerged from behind the flaming entrance hall. He wore a bronze robe, his hands clasped behind his back, and his sharp eyes resembled those of an eagle. This was one of the school's unknown teachers.

Hofa felt a sudden pressure in his chest. For some reason, the moment he saw this old man, he sensed that Hogwarts was far stricter now than it would be fifty years later.

The old man walked slowly past the first-years, his hands still behind his back. "At Hogwarts, you will learn many things. But first, you will learn not magic, but discipline."

Wherever his gaze fell, the first-years lowered their heads without exception.

"The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin. Once you are sorted into a house, there is no debate. Follow me."

The old man spoke succinctly, offering no further explanation. With one hand still behind his back, he turned and walked toward the entrance hall, his steps commanding.

The group of first-years followed the old man through a Gothic corridor dozens of meters high. Torches burned brightly every ten meters along the walls. Some students whispered softly, "Is that Deputy Headmaster Adebaye?"

"So strict, even stricter than the rumors say."

"Shh!"

After a few words, someone quickly silenced them. The students looked fearful, even cowering.

Adebaye Goshawk. So that was him.

Hofa glanced at Miranda, who remained calm. This old man was her grandfather, it seemed. He really was strict.

As Hofa observed his surroundings, he noticed there were no ghosts wandering about. The only sound was the footsteps of the first-years. The portraits on the walls watched them silently, their eyes following as they passed.

The group eventually arrived at the Hogwarts Great Hall. The hall was solemn and dimly lit, with a blue carpet covering the floor. The chatter was slightly louder here but still restrained, nothing like the free-spirited conversations on the train.

The hall wasn't as romantic as described in the books. There were no hundreds of candles burning brightly, no prefects warmly welcoming them. Instead, the lighting came from braziers along the walls. As the first-years walked, the braziers lit up, gradually brightening the hall.

Above, thousands of bright stars rotated slowly in the dark ceiling, resembling the ancient and obscure art of astrology—profound, serious, and rigid.

Hofa looked toward the staff table. In the center sat a thin, elderly man with a hooked nose, half-bald, and a sinister expression. Armando Dippet, the current Headmaster of Hogwarts. With just one glance, Hofa could tell this man was nothing like Dumbledore. His eyes held no warmth, only scrutiny.

As the saying goes, "When a new ruler ascends, so do new officials." No wonder the entire school exuded an atmosphere of rules and order.

Of course, Hofa also saw Dumbledore. He sat on the left side of the staff table, quietly conversing with a dark-haired, portly man. Hofa immediately recognized him—Horace Slughorn, the Head of Slytherin House. The man who would later teach Voldemort the secret of splitting his soul. Fifty years later, he would return to the same position.

The first-years stopped beneath a giant eagle statue in front of the staff table. Deputy Headmaster Adebaye Goshawk turned to face them. Beside him was a blue-cushioned high stool, on which rested a wrinkled, dusty hat.

"Line up," Professor Goshawk said coldly. His voice was calm, but all the first-years immediately obeyed, forming a straight line.

Professor Goshawk then pulled out a long scroll of parchment from his sleeve. "When I call your name, come forward and put on the Sorting Hat."

"Eikaran Mitt."

A boy hurried forward, clumsily placing the hat on his head. The Sorting Hat immediately shouted, "Gryffindor!"

Polite applause came from the table on the left. The clapping was restrained, nothing like the enthusiastic cheers described in the books.

"Alphard Black."

Hofa recognized this surname immediately. Black. A member of Sirius Black's family. He looked up and saw a pale, dark-haired boy in a black robe step forward and sit on the stool. The Sorting Hat hesitated for a long time before declaring, "Slytherin!"

The Black boy frowned, seemingly unhappy with the result. Hofa watched him pass by, wondering what his relationship with the future Sirius Black might be.

Not long after Alphard left, Hofa heard another familiar name.

"Eileen Prince."

Prince? Eileen Prince? Snape's mother?

Hofa immediately looked up. A pale, dark-haired girl with greasy hair and freckles around her nose walked nervously to the stool. The Sorting Hat quickly sorted her into Slytherin.

Hofa thought to himself that he was witnessing history today. These people were the ancestors of the famous characters he knew. He even wondered if he could become Snape's father by wooing Eileen Prince... But he quickly shook his head. It wasn't appropriate to think such absurd thoughts in this solemn hall. Besides, Eileen wasn't particularly attractive.

The Sorting Hat worked quickly at times and slowly at others. Some students were sorted in seconds, while others took up to a minute. During these moments, the hall remained silent, everyone waiting patiently.

As the names were called one by one, Hofa didn't hear many familiar surnames beyond those of the well-known families.

Suddenly, Professor Goshawk called out, "Aglaia S. Delacour."

A silver-haired, blue-eyed girl stepped forward and sat on the stool with an expressionless face.

Hofa's eyes widened. So her name was Aglaia S. Delacour. What a long and pretentious name.

The Sorting Hat barely touched her silver hair before shouting, "Ravenclaw!"

Hofa shook his head inwardly. If he were the Sorting Hat, he would have definitely placed her in Slytherin.

Aglaia placed the hat back on the stool and walked past Hofa, giving him a mocking smile as if ridiculing his earlier judgment on the train.

Hofa thought to himself that if he were Harry Potter, this girl would definitely be the Malfoy-type character.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Professor Goshawk's voice interrupted Hofa's thoughts. He looked up, ready to witness this historic moment.

Tom stepped forward, his tall figure calm but his clenched hands betraying his inner excitement.

In just one second, the Sorting Hat declared, "Slytherin!"

The table on the far right erupted into applause, more enthusiastic than the others. In this solemn atmosphere, that was quite an achievement. In the short time since the train ride, Tom Riddle had already won over most of Slytherin.

As Tom placed the hat back on the stool, Hofa noticed a look of relief on his face. How strange—even Voldemort had moments like this.

After sorting a dozen more students, Professor Goshawk finally called out, "Hofa Bach."

Miranda gently nudged Hofa, and he stepped forward. The others showed no reaction—to them, it was just an ordinary name. But one person's eyes widened in shock.

Aglaia, sitting in the corner of the Ravenclaw table, had been expressionless and disinterested. But when she saw Hofa step forward, she was first puzzled, then furious. She slammed her fist on the table, drawing the attention of the other Ravenclaws.

"Bastard," Aglaia hissed through gritted teeth. She now realized that this boy wasn't Miller Goshawk at all. His name was Hofa Bach. To her, his earlier disregard on the train was the ultimate insult.

Hofa, of course, had no idea he had already offended a Ravenclaw. He sat on the stool, nervously placing the Sorting Hat on his head.

The moment the hat touched his head, it sighed softly in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. It's been a long time since I've seen such a hard student to sort. Brave, yes. Kind-hearted, intelligent, and not without ambition. Well-rounded, it seems. Hmm, all four houses could suit you."

Hofa was speechless. Was this the hat's way of saying he was unremarkable, just another face in the crowd?

Time dragged on longer than for any other student. Three minutes passed, and Hofa was still sitting on the stool. Professor Goshawk gave him a sidelong glance.

The Sorting Hat continued muttering in Hofa's ear. "First, let's rule out Hufflepuff. You're not quite suited there. Next, I think we can eliminate Slytherin. You have ambition, but not enough to meet Slytherin's standards."

Hofa's breathing quickened.

"That leaves Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Hmm, let me think..."

Hofa felt a pang of nervousness. Ravenclaw? Normally, it wouldn't be a problem, but after encountering that silver-haired girl, he really didn't want to be in the same house as her.

Suddenly, he had an idea. He remembered that when Harry Potter wore the Sorting Hat, the hat had also struggled between Gryffindor and Slytherin. In the end, Harry had made the choice himself, selecting Gryffindor.

So Hofa decided to do the same. In his mind, he chanted, *Not Ravenclaw, not Ravenclaw, not Ravenclaw...*

Then, the Sorting Hat shouted at the top of its voice, "Ravenclaw!"