Chapter 11: The Fate that Entwines Teachers and Students

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

The castle's doors resounded with three loud knocks, and Professor McGonagall entered with a group of first-years.

Facing the students with their backs to the professors, they stood between the faculty table and the student tables.

McGonagall gently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first-years and placed a tattered wizard hat on top of it.

To the bewilderment of the new students, the hat twitched and split open at the brim, resembling a mouth, and suddenly burst into song.

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty but don't judge on what you see, I'll eat myself if you can find a smarter hat than me..."

...

"This is the Sorting Hat. It reads the minds of young witches and wizards, identifies their qualities, and then sorts them into houses," explained Professor Flitwick, fearing that Tver might not understand the ceremony.

"Quite amusing, but in Durmstrang, anything that can peer into minds and think for itself is generally considered... well," Tver paused, searching for the right word, "abnormal."

Professor Flitwick chuckled at this observation. "Let's hope the Sorting Hat doesn't overhear that. It's said to be the hat worn by Godric Gryffindor himself, but it spends most of its time in the Headmaster's office, rather bored, so it spends its time composing the songs it sings at the start of each school year. As for how it gained its ability to think, well, you'd have to ask the four founders about that."

As the song concluded, the Sorting Hat bowed to each of the four tables in turn, then resumed its role as a regular hat, motionless and waiting for the students to approach.

McGonagall timely approached the Sorting Hat with a scroll of parchment.

"I'll call out each name, and whoever's name I call will come up, put on the hat, sit on the stool, and await their Sorting!" she announced loudly before reading out the first name on the parchment.

"Hannah Abbot!"

A girl with two golden braids stumbled out of the lineup.

Tver didn't know this girl, but he recognized the name Abbot; it was a surname of a pure-blood family.

After a moment, the Sorting Hat declared its decision.

"Hufflepuff!"

A burst of enthusiastic applause erupted from the table with the most occupants in the Great Hall, and some students even stood up to shake hands with Abbot.

The Sorting Ceremony continued, undisturbed by the cheering, or rather, the cheering became part of the ceremony itself.

Tver watched as the young wizards went through the Sorting Ceremony, feeling like a tourist witnessing a grand spectacle in the magical world.

Especially when a round-faced young wizard, upon hearing "Gryffindor" being called out by the Sorting Hat, ran off without even removing the hat, only to return amidst laughter to return it.

As the Sorting continued, waves of applause filled the Great Hall until a particular name was called out.

"Harry Potter!"

The entire hall fell silent as Harry emerged from the small crowd, and nearly everyone in the hall turned their gaze toward this slender figure.

Whispers buzzed across the four tables in unison.

"Potter, is it the Potter?"

"Have you seen the scar on his forehead?"

"Which house do you think he'll be sorted into?"

Tver, knowing the answer, watched Dumbledore with interest.

Upon hearing Harry's name, the old man's expression changed slightly, and he leaned forward ever so slightly. It was clear that he attached great importance to this particular Sorting.

This Sorting took longer than the previous ones, and everyone wondered what conversation had transpired between Harry and the Sorting Hat. All they knew was that it took quite a while—perhaps half an hour—before the Sorting Hat finally spoke.

"Gryffindor!"

With the hat on his head, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. His legs trembled slightly as he stood up, his mind blank, but he remembered to return the hat.

"I suppose you know this name, but I didn't expect Potter to end up in any house but Ravenclaw," Professor Flitwick said somewhat discontentedly.

"Regardless of the house, he'll be your student, won't he?" Tver replied with a smile.

With the Sorting Ceremony concluded Dumbledore left everyone with a final, "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" and the first feast of the school year began.

Before Tver could even analyze, he was pleasantly surprised to find the empty plates before him suddenly filled with delicious food.

"This is a food-summoning charm left by Helga Hufflepuff. It's not conjuring food out of thin air but rather precisely transporting it from the kitchen to the table," explained the thoughtful Professor Flitwick, answering Tver's question.

Tver was indeed unfamiliar with this type of magic.

Food magic? Could it enhance one's abilities?

However, the mysteries of Hogwarts were fully displayed before Tver on this day.

Unlike merely watching a movie, it's only when you find yourself amidst it, still a clever wizard, that you can truly appreciate the subtleties of various spells.

The food at the banquet was prepared by house-elves. While there were also British traditional fish and chips, there were plenty of delicious dishes like roasted ribs and grilled chicken.

It was much better than expected.

The food at Durmstrang was far from exquisite, mainly consisting of heavy or pickled dishes.

Upon arriving at Hogwarts, Tver had already prepared himself for a year of fish and potatoes.

No wonder Hogwarts was more renowned than Durmstrang; its food alone was more internationally acclaimed.

After the main course came dessert, Tver's favorite.

In his previous life, he had a fondness for sweets, and crossing over hadn't changed that habit.

He eagerly tried every kind of ice cream, every slice of pie, and every serving of pudding.

Sure enough, as long as desserts weren't overly sweet, there was nothing unpleasant about them.

Happily finishing the last bite of lemon pudding, Tver keenly felt someone watching him.

Following the gaze, he saw Harry's eyes staring directly at him, then wincing in pain as he touched the scar on his forehead.

Tver raised his glass, using the act of drinking to conceal his movements, but his eyes glanced towards Professor Quirrell beside him.

Was it because of the influence of Voldemort's soul?

It seemed their connection ran deeper than he had imagined.

The soul truly was a profound subject.

Tver couldn't help but marvel for a moment.

Yet this time, Harry was staring not at Quirrell beside him, nor at Snape, but at him, Tver.

Raising his glass, Tver smiled and met the curious gaze of Harry.

So, he had learned about his professor's identity. But to already hold bias against Snape so soon... truly befitting of this pair whose fates were entwined as teacher and student.