A sudden, piercing howl startled everyone in the Great Hall!
Professor McGonagall shuddered and instinctively stepped back several paces. The other professors wore expressions of horror and disbelief.
Professor Snape and Headmaster Dumbledore both shot to their feet at the same time.
Professor Quirrell—possessed by Voldemort—stared fixedly at Chu Yang.
In nearly a thousand years of Hogwarts' history, nothing like this had ever happened!
What was wrong with the Sorting Hat? How could it let out such a miserable, shrill scream?
"So that's all you've got?" Chu Yang, the culprit behind it all, was no longer nervous. Calmly, he lifted the Sorting Hat off his head and grabbed the folds forming its mouth, cutting off the scream instantly.
Not only that—one threatening look from him was enough for the sentient hat to instantly learn the meaning of silence.
Talking nonsense could get you killed… or rather, get a hat killed.
"I'm putting you back on my head now. Behave yourself. Got it?"
The Sorting Hat nodded frantically. Satisfied, Chu Yang smiled and placed it back on.
"Ahem… I haven't been sleeping well lately. That outburst just now was… a momentary lapse."
"Yes, yes, very good. I see great potential within you."
The Sorting Hat trembled slightly as it spouted nonsense. "You possess the courage to stake everything on a single throw, an endless thirst for knowledge, unwavering loyalty to friends—and more importantly, you know how to protect yourself, to read the situation wisely… not, ah, stop at nothing to achieve your goals."
"Slytherin!"
Though they didn't quite understand what had happened, the Slytherin students still burst into applause. They had no idea that Chu Yang came from a Muggle family.
The other three houses would've been fine… so why Slytherin of all places?
I was planning to quietly get through my school years, damn it!
Chu Yang smacked his lips, clearly dissatisfied. "Didn't you make a mistake?"
The Sorting Hat stiffened. "A mistake?"
"I think you did."
"T-Then it must be wrong. Let me sort you again—"
Before it could finish, Professor McGonagall grabbed the Sorting Hat and lifted it away.
She looked at Chu Yang with a complicated expression. "The Sorting Hat cannot decide your future. After the feast, Headmaster Dumbledore intends to speak with you personally. For now, you may step down."
The air in the Great Hall seemed to freeze.
Students stared with their mouths agape—even seventh-years had never seen anything like this.
What did she mean, the Sorting Hat can't decide your future?
Not just the students—professors leaned toward one another behind the tables, whispering animatedly about Chu Yang, their faces full of astonishment. None of them had ever encountered anything this outrageous.
Chu Yang scratched his head. "So… where do I sit?"
Professor McGonagall looked equally troubled. "Anywhere you like."
After a moment's thought, Chu Yang plopped himself down at the Hufflepuff table, startling the Badgers. But shock aside, they still welcomed him warmly.
He chose Hufflepuff mainly to repay Professor Sprout's kindness. No matter where he'd ultimately be placed, it felt right to show some appreciation.
After a brief disturbance, the Sorting Ceremony continued. Following Chu Yang, the remaining first-years were sorted without incident, and the Sorting Hat showed no further signs of being half-asleep.
Chu Yang ate the feast uncomfortably. The burning gazes from all directions made him feel like he was sitting under a spotlight.
Whether professors or students, their curiosity about him subtly surpassed even that surrounding Harry Potter.
Thankfully, the ghosts' entrance diverted most of the attention.
Walls, statues, tables—ghosts poured in from every direction. Those emerging straight out of the food were especially disturbing, enough to make Chu Yang feel physically ill.
The first-years, seeing such a scene for the first time, descended into chaos once again.
The more timid girls began screaming one after another.
As part of the welcoming ceremony, professors and upperclassmen watched with relish—even Dumbledore was smiling.
"Ghosts! Real ghosts!" Ron tugged at Harry's robes and shouted. "Fred was right—there really are ghosts at this school!"
Harry clutched his own clothes nervously, afraid of both the ghosts and Ron yanking his robes clean off.
Hermione, usually the calmest of the trio, had gone pale. She kneaded her sleeves anxiously and looked helplessly toward Chu Yang at the neighboring table.
Chu Yang gestured for her to relax.
The translucent ghosts contrasted starkly with the warm colors of the living. To Chu Yang, it was the boundary between life and death.
Ghosts in the world of Harry Potter were more like earthbound spirits.
Some chose to become ghosts of their own free will. According to Nearly Headless Nick, it required paying a steep price.
As for what that price was—only those who became ghosts truly knew.
Others died accidentally at the school and became ghosts in a dazed state.
Take Myrtle, for example—she was killed by the Basilisk's magic and became the ghost haunting the second-floor bathroom.
Both were ghosts, yet fundamentally different—especially the latter.
In Chu Yang's view, this might be connected to Hogwarts itself.
This castle, standing for nearly a millennium, held countless secrets. Perhaps it couldn't be treated as a mere inanimate object.
A student's official enrollment might well be a kind of contract with the castle—one that could be activated under special circumstances, causing deceased students to remain as ghosts.
Of course, this was only Chu Yang's speculation. Still, he thought optimistically, If I become a ghost after dying, the first thing I'll do is tear Hogwarts apart. You think you can keep me trapped here forever? Not a chance.
The Hogwarts food was well received by the first-years.
But to Chu Yang, it was just so-so.
After all, Britain was infamous as a culinary wasteland.
Add to that a tasteless ghost who kept removing his own head, and what little appetite Chu Yang had left dropped straight to zero.
After the feast, instead of heading directly back to their dormitories, the first-years were led by Professor McGonagall back to the lounge beside the Great Hall.
She began checking whether any students were carrying wands, to determine whether Malfoy's incident had been deliberate.
After fifteen minutes, the result surprised her.
Not a single first-year was carrying a wand.
Which meant Malfoy's misfortune could essentially be ruled out as a human-caused incident.
"This matter must be reported to Headmaster Dumbledore immediately," Professor McGonagall said gravely, a rare heaviness crossing her stern face.
(End of Chapter)