Hogwarts: Third Dark Lord

Professor McGonagall gave a brief account of what had occurred outside the Great Hall to Dumbledore. She seemed to have more to say, but Dumbledore waved her off with a dismissive gesture.

Professor McGonagall neither lowered her voice nor used a silencing charm, so the other professors near Dumbledore heard her explanation as well. They exchanged surprised glances.

Not far from Dumbledore, Ilona also heard everything and allowed a faint smile to curve her lips.

Wentworth, you've understood the value of making an impression early, even without anyone teaching you. Before even entering Hogwarts, you've already begun to establish a reputation among your peers. Your performance is better than I had anticipated.

Ilona lifted the goblet in front of her and gave a subtle toast in Wentworth's direction before taking a satisfied sip.

"Professor McGonagall, let us proceed with the Sorting Ceremony. We can discuss other matters later," Dumbledore said after silencing McGonagall.

Understanding that some topics were not suitable for discussion here, McGonagall did not insist. She promptly announced, "The Sorting Ceremony at Hogwarts shall now begin."

At these words, many first-years visibly tensed. Wentworth, already aware of how the Sorting Ceremony worked, found their nervous expressions amusing.

Scanning the group, only Cassandra appeared relatively calm among the new students, though her normally fair complexion had grown noticeably paler.

At the front of the hall, the Sorting Hat, which had been waiting for some time, seemed eager to begin.

The ancient hat revealed a seam, its "mouth," and launched into a song:

"La la la, Hogwarts! La la la…"

As soon as the Sorting Hat started singing, several first-years couldn't help but cover their ears, Wentworth included.

When the song finally ended, McGonagall stepped forward with a long roll of parchment, standing beside the Sorting Hat. It was clear that the parchment contained the names of the year's incoming students.

As McGonagall called out names, one by one, the first-years approached the Sorting Hat. The hat, placed on their heads, decided which house they would call home for the next several years.

"Cassandra!"

At the sound of her name, Cassandra brushed a hand through her golden hair and walked gracefully to the front.

Although she was only eleven years old, Wentworth had to admit that this proud girl already showed the promise of an enchanting presence and stunning beauty.

The moment Cassandra sat down and the Sorting Hat touched her head, it shouted:

"Slytherin, without a doubt!"

Cheers erupted from the Slytherin table. After all, what upper-year student wouldn't be pleased with a charming new addition to their house?

Hearing the decision, Cassandra exhaled deeply in relief, her smile confident and poised as she walked toward the Slytherin table.

As she passed Wentworth, she didn't stop but remarked, "I told you—I belong in Slytherin."

After what felt like an eternity of waiting, Wentworth finally heard his name called by McGonagall.

As he stepped forward, many professors on the dais directed their attention toward him, no doubt due to McGonagall's earlier account of the events outside.

Once he was seated, McGonagall gave him a meaningful look before placing the Sorting Hat on his head.

"Well now, this is tricky… very tricky indeed," the hat mused. "Let's start by process of elimination. Not enough ambition—Slytherin is out."

"There's courage here, courage enough to face death… So perhaps Gryffin—"

Before the hat could finish, Wentworth panicked. This was steering him straight into the lion's den!

Thankfully, his Occlumency training from before term started came to his rescue. Beyond shielding his thoughts from intrusion, he had learned to construct false scenarios in his mind.

Without hesitation, Wentworth conjured a vivid mental image of himself as a Gryffindor plotting to claim the Sorting Hat for his own. Being a relic of Gryffindor himself, wouldn't the hat be rightfully his, as a recognized heir?

The Sorting Hat caught this audacious thought and cut itself off mid-sentence.

"What an outrageous notion! I've never encountered a student so brazen!" the hat muttered in a low, almost fearful voice. "I think you should be sorted straight to Azkaban!"

The hat's voice was too soft for anyone but Wentworth and McGonagall to hear. Both of them froze for a moment, surprised.

To others in the hall, the Sorting Hat appeared to be mumbling indecisively.

Clearing her throat gently, McGonagall reminded the hat of its duty.

Unable to delay further, the hat hesitantly, almost pleadingly, suggested, "Hufflepuff, then? Yes, Hufflepuff is the right place for you—Hufflepuff!"

This time, without sensing any objections from Wentworth, the hat loudly declared its decision.

The Hufflepuff table erupted in cheers, none louder than Cedric Diggory. Wentworth turned toward the source of the enthusiastic cheering to see Cedric beaming at him.

After McGonagall removed the hat from his head, Wentworth walked to the Hufflepuff table.

Cedric had even saved a seat for him, making room among his fellow housemates.

As Wentworth approached, Cedric stood and gave him a warm hug before they both sat down.

"I can't believe it—you're really in Hufflepuff!" Cedric exclaimed, still incredulous.

Wentworth replied with a broad smile, "Hufflepuff has always been my dream!"

His words earned approving looks from the surrounding Hufflepuffs.

"Why's that? Most first-years dream of Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. And plenty of pure-bloods aspire to Slytherin. Hardly anyone dreams of Hufflepuff," Cedric asked curiously.

"Because it's closest to the kitchens, of course," Wentworth answered matter-of-factly.

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