"Hannah Abbott!"
A strong, resonant voice rang out through the magnificent Great Hall.
A rosy-cheeked little girl with two golden braids stumbled out from the line and placed a patched, wrinkled pointed hat onto her head.
A moment later, the brim of the hat split open into a wide crack, like a mouth—
"Hufflepuff!"
The hat actually spoke!
Cheers and applause surged through the hall like waves. The flushed girl quickly took off the hat and ran excitedly toward the long table on the far right.
Amid the noisy excitement, no one noticed that among the line of first-year students stood a black-haired boy with dark golden eyes. His lips were slightly parted as he stared blankly at everything around him.
Thousands of candles floated in midair. Four long tables were covered with gleaming golden tableware. Translucent ghosts drifted about the hall. A greasy-haired, hook-nosed wizard sat among the professors. And at the center of the staff table sat a kind old man with a long white beard.
"This is… Hogwarts?"
"Did I… transmigrate?!"
The boy blinked, a storm of absurdity, excitement, and confusion surging through his mind.
In his wildest dreams he had never imagined that he would arrive at this magical school that existed only in books and films, becoming a young wizard participating in the Sorting Ceremony!
As a die-hard fan who had read the novels and watched the entire film series countless times, he quickly forced himself to calm down.
Although Hogwarts—supposedly "the safest place in the world"—managed to have major incidents every single year, those disasters were always centered around the Savior Trio.
As long as he stayed far away from them and quietly developed his magical abilities in any house other than Gryffindor, his knowledge of the future should at least allow him to keep himself safe.
But the problem now was…
"So who exactly am I?"
Watching the young witches and wizards step forward one after another to wear the shabby Sorting Hat before heading to different house tables, the boy's brows twisted together in frustration.
His mind was completely blank.
The original owner of this body had left him absolutely no memories.
He didn't even know his own name.
At that moment, Professor Minerva McGonagall, dressed in emerald-green robes, called out the next name.
"Lykos Hayden."
The air in the hall suddenly grew quiet.
Everyone looked expectantly toward the line of first-years, wondering which house the next student would join.
Yet the nervous children in line stood like timid lambs. None of them responded to Professor McGonagall's call.
Professor McGonagall pressed her lips together and cast a stern glance at the group before raising her voice.
"Lykos Hayden!"
Seeing that no one reacted, the black-haired boy cautiously stepped forward.
Then he quickly turned his head and glanced around nervously to see if any other student was about to step out as well.
"Mr. Hayden, please hurry up," Professor McGonagall said, her lips drawn into a thin line as she urged him sharply.
"Oh… yes, Professor."
Lykos finally confirmed his own name.
As he answered, he suppressed the mixture of tension and shock in his heart and awkwardly shuffled toward the four-legged stool at the front of the hall.
Professor McGonagall seemed slightly anxious watching him, but she still forced a reassuring smile onto her stern face. Taking his arm, she guided him to the stool and said gently,
"Relax. You'll soon be sorted into the house that suits you."
The next moment, Lykos felt a hat placed on his head.
As the hat that once belonged to Gryffindor himself, one of Hogwarts' founders, the Sorting Hat was clearly far too large for young students.
The wide brim dropped down and covered Lykos's eyes. The fabric scratched roughly against his forehead and ears, and a faint musty smell of old cloth drifted into his nose.
"Oh, little one, you seem rather nervous!"
A tiny voice sounded beside his ear. It was unpleasant—like the quacking of a duck in a pond.
"Don't worry. As the greatest hat in the wizarding world, I shall immediately—hiss—"
The Sorting Hat's duck-like voice abruptly stopped.
"Wait a moment!" it cried, sounding like a duck with its neck squeezed. "Where did you learn Occlumency, you little fellow? You're making my Sorting work much harder!"
Lykos opened his mouth, unsure whether he should say anything.
He knew that the Sorting Hat used a form of Legilimency to probe memories and understand a student's character. But why was it suddenly talking about Occlumency?
"No, no. Even the most skilled Occlumency shouldn't make it impossible for me to see absolutely anything in your mind," the hat muttered in his ear. "Unless…"
"Unless you're a natural-born Occlumens!"
It suddenly shouted beside Lykos's ear, startling him.
"Oh no! Is my thousand-year Sorting career about to meet its Waterloo today?!"
"I… don't quite understand," Lykos said quietly, shaking his head slightly.
"Ah, it's simple. This magic is a talent you were born with!" the Sorting Hat declared confidently.
It seemed rather frustrated at being unable to read Lykos's personality. But hearing his question allowed it to recover some dignity, so it began explaining in great detail.
"As everyone knows, wizards can master spellcasting through systematic learning and training. But some exceptionally gifted wizards don't need to learn at all—they can perform powerful magic from the moment they are born."
"These innate abilities are often far stronger than skills gained through training. That's why I cannot see even the slightest trace of your thoughts."
"Sigh… how am I supposed to sort you…"
"I see!" Lykos's eyes lit up.
Just moments ago, he had been worried that his transmigration might be discovered by masters of Legilimency like Dumbledore or Snape. But if he was naturally proficient in Occlumency, that eliminated many of his concerns.
"If you can't figure it out, then just assign me to any house," Lykos said lightly. "As long as it isn't Gryffindor."
Avoiding the Savior Trio required careful planning.
"Hmm… not Gryffindor, you say?" the Sorting Hat murmured. "Then I understand. Just as I suspected—during our conversation, your personality has already become perfectly clear to me—"
"SLYTHERIN!!"
Applause and cheers erupted from the left side of the hall.
Lykos slowly let out a breath. He removed the chattering hat and handed it back to Professor McGonagall before walking toward the long table filled with students wearing green collars and scarves.
Just then, a loud clatter rang out from the professors' table.
Lykos instinctively turned his head.
A professor wearing a purple turban had knocked over his cup, spilling most of its contents onto the table in front of the man seated to his right.
"S-sorry, Professor Snape. I'll clean it up," the turbaned professor stammered nervously.
Lykos watched as the man took out a dirty handkerchief and shakily unfolded it. One side of the cloth happened to face directly toward Lykos.
In that instant, Lykos's eyes widened.
The pattern on the handkerchief formed several clear words—
"Come to my office tonight!"