“Bang bang bang!”

There were three loud bangs from the castle door, and then Professor McGonagall came in with a group of little carrots.

The freshmen faced the students, with their backs to the professors, standing between the faculty benches and the student tables.

Professor McGonagall gently placed a four-legged stool in front of the new students, and placed an old wizard’s hat on the stool.

As the freshmen looked at them with doubts, the hat twisted, and a wide slit opened at the brim, like a mouth, and suddenly sang a song.

“You may think I’m not pretty,”

“But never judge a book by its cover,”

“If you can find a prettier hat than mine,”

“I could eat myself.”

“This is the Sorting Hat, it reads the minds of little wizards, identifies the qualities they possess, and then sorts them.”

Professor Flitwick was afraid that Twell would not understand this ritual, so he explained it beside him.

“It’s interesting, but in Durmstrang, things that can peek into the brain and have thoughts of their own are generally not so–”

Tver thought for a moment before finding a suitable word.

“normal.”

Professor Flitwick was amused by this statement, and he said with a smile: “You can’t let the Sorting Hat hear this.”

“It is said that it is the hat worn by Godric Gryffindor, but he stays in the principal’s office all year round and is quite bored. He can only think about the song to sing when the school starts.”

“As for how you have the ability to think, you can only ask the four founders.”

At the end of the song, under the warm applause of the audience, the Sorting Hat bowed to the four tables one by one, and then pretended to be a real hat, waiting still for the little wizard to come.

Professor McGonagall brought a roll of parchment to the Sorting Hat’s location at the right time.

“Whoever’s name I call comes over, puts on his hat, sits on a stool, and waits for sorting!”

she said loudly, then read the first name on the parchment.

“Hannah Abbott!”

A little girl with two golden braids stumbled out of the queue.

Tver did not recognize this girl, but he recognized the Aibo in her name, which was the surname of a pure-blood family.

After a while, the Sorting Hat gave the answer.

“Hufflepuff!”

The long table with the largest number of people in the auditorium briefly burst into warm applause, and some young wizards even stood up and shook hands with Aibo.

The sorting ceremony was not disturbed by the cheers, or in other words, the cheers were also part of the ceremony.

Tver watched the little wizards performing the sorting ceremony, feeling like a tourist coming to watch famous scenes in the magical world.

Especially a little wizard with a round face. When the Sorting Hat shouted “Gryffindor”, he ran away without even taking off his hat.

Finally I had to return the hat amidst roars of laughter.

As the sorting progressed, bursts of applause rang out in the auditorium until a name appeared.

“Harry Potter!”

The entire auditorium suddenly fell silent. When Harry walked out of the small crowd, almost everyone in the auditorium turned their attention to this thin figure.

The four long tables buzzed with murmurs of discussion.

Potter, is that Potter? ”

“Did you see the scar on his forehead?”

“Which college do you think he will be in?”

Turville, who knew the answer, looked at Dumbledore with interest.

When he heard Harry’s name, the old man’s expression changed slightly, and his body leaned forward slightly.

Obviously they attach great importance to this special branch.

This sorting lasted for a long time, longer than the previous freshmen.

No one knew what kind of conversation took place between Harry and the Sorting Hat. They only knew that it took a long time, maybe half an hour, before the Sorting Hat grinned.

“Gryffindor!”

Harry, who was wearing the hat, finally breathed a sigh of relief. His legs were shaking slightly and he stood up. His mind was blank. Fortunately, he remembered to put the hat back.

“I think you should know this name, but I didn’t expect that Potter is not a Ravenclaw student.” Professor Flitwick said with some dissatisfaction.

“No matter which college he is in, he will be your student, right?” Tver responded with a smile.

At the end of the sorting ceremony, Dumbledore left everyone with the words “Idiot! Cry! Scum! Screw it!” and started the first dinner of this school year.

Before he could analyze it, Tver was pleasantly surprised to find that the empty tableware in front of him was suddenly filled with delicious food.

“This is the food magic left by Helga Hufflepuff. It does not conjure food out of thin air, but transports them accurately from the kitchen to the table.”

Professor Flitwick’s thoughtful answer

Tver’s doubts.

Tver was indeed unfamiliar with this type of magic.

Food magic?

Can it increase strength?

However, the mystery of Hogwarts was vividly displayed in front of Tver on this day.

Different from watching movies, you can only experience the subtleties of various magics when you are in it and are a skilled wizard.

The food at the dinner was prepared by the house elves. Although there were also traditional British fish, chips and fish and chips, there were also many delicacies such as barbecue steak and roast chicken.

Much better than expected.

The food in Durmstrang is far from exquisite, and mainly consists of heavy-flavored or pickled foods.

After arriving at Hogwarts, Tver was ready to eat fish and potatoes for a whole year.

No wonder Hogwarts is more famous than Durmstrang, and the food alone is more internationally popular.

After the meal comes dessert, Tver’s favorite.

He liked eating desserts in his previous life, and he didn’t change this habit after time travel.

He tried every ice cream, every pie and every pudding with great interest.

Sure enough, as long as the dessert is not too sweet, there is nothing unpalatable.

After happily finishing the last bite of lemon pudding, Tver keenly felt that someone was watching him.

Following his gaze, he saw Harry’s eyes staring straight here, then covering the scar on his forehead in pain.

Tver picked up the wine glass and used the drink to cover up his movements, but his eyes glanced at Professor Quirrell next to him.

Is it because of the influence of Voldemort’s soul?

It seems that the connection between them is deeper than one imagined.

The soul is really a profound subject.

Tver sighed a little.

But this time Harry was looking here again, not at Quirrell or Snape, but at him, Turville.

Tweel raised his glass and looked at the curious Harry with a smile.

It turned out that he knew the identity of his professor, but he was prejudiced against Snape so quickly. It was indeed a pair of teachers and students whose fates were intertwined.


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