"Rock Cakes?" Anne raised an eyebrow. The name... was a bit difficult to comprehend.
However, since Harry said they were delicious, they simply had to be good—if the opportunity arose, she definitely had to try them.
The innocent Anne silently committed Harry's words to memory.
"Alright, Harry. I'll give them a taste."
Ginny, Neville, and Seamus, who were trailing behind them, exchanged glances and collectively observed a moment of silence for this naive girl.
Honestly, are Rock Cakes something human beings are actually meant to enjoy?
One bite of that stuff is enough to shatter your teeth into powder...
Before they had walked much further, Hermione and Ron caught up with them, striding briskly.
"My goodness," Hermione panted. "If it were possible, I would rather not be a prefect—it is simply too exhausting, having to manage so many things."
"Oh, don't lose heart, Hermione," Harry said with a beaming smile. "Later on, after the Sorting Ceremony concludes, you still have to assign dormitories to the first years."
Hearing Harry's words, both Hermione and Ron rolled their eyes.
"Alright, we get it. We don't need your reminders, Harry!"
The group around them laughed together, the sound thoroughly mischievous.
They soon arrived beside the line of carriages. Ron looked up, staring at the carriage, and said, "Funny. This time last year, I couldn't see what was pulling the carriages, but today I can—hey, Seamus, Neville, and Ginny, can you see them?"
"Of course I can, Ron," Ginny said, looking somewhat entranced at the Thestral pulling the carriage.
The Thestrals looked rather abstract; their bodies were tall but skeletal, completely pitch-black, with dragon-like heads and horse-like bodies. A pair of vast, leathery wings sprouted from their backs, allowing them to fly at high speeds.
"They're Thestrals," Hermione began to lecture everyone. "Thestrals are an astonishing magical creature. Only those who have seen death can see them—precisely because of this, Thestrals were once considered bad omens, rumored to bring terrible misfortune to those who saw them."
"You know so much," Anne praised Hermione from the bottom of her heart.
"Oh, well," Hermione grinned. "Everyone says that about me..."
"Yes, especially Professor Snape," Ron mimicked Snape's voice, drawling out the words, "Miss Know-It-All..."
"Haha..." The group burst into laughter.
After they boarded, the carriages formed a line, creaking and swaying as they moved along the road.
They passed the tall stone pillars flanking the gates to the school grounds, atop which sat winged boars.
Hogwarts Castle loomed closer and closer through the mist; the towering turrets appeared even darker against the backdrop of the night sky, with the occasional window flashing fiery, brilliant light above their heads.
The carriages came to a clattering halt beside the stone steps leading to the oak front doors, and Harry was the first to hop off.
The Great Hall was packed, filled with four long House tables. Above was the pitch-black, starless ceiling, looking exactly like the sky they had seen outside through the high windows.
Floating candles hovered above the tables, illuminating the silvery-white ghosts dotting the Hall and the excited faces of the students.
They were talking cheerfully, exchanging news from the summer holidays, shouting greetings to friends in other Houses, and scrutinizing each other's new hairstyles and robes.
Upon entering the Great Hall, Luna left them to sit at the Ravenclaw table.
Anne, however, did not rush to the Slytherin long table. Instead, she followed Harry to the Gryffindor table.
Just as they reached the Gryffindor table, Ginny was loudly hailed by several fourth-year students and pulled over to sit with them.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, Seamus, and Neville found seats together in the middle of the table. On one side was the Gryffindor ghost—Nearly Headless Nick—and on the other sat Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown.
The two girls greeted Ron with exaggerated, feigned enthusiasm. Harry guessed they had certainly been gossiping about Ron just a second ago.
"Looks like you had a pleasant summer," Lavender Brown said with a fake smile. She then looked at Anne and asked in surprise, "And who is this? I haven't seen her before... Is she another transfer student?"
"You guessed right," Harry chuckled. "This is the student transferring into fifth year this year, Anne Sallow."
"Huh? Fifth year?" Lavender asked, stunned. "Shouldn't it be sixth year? I remember Miss Grindelwald, Miss Malfoy, and Miss Sweeting all transferred into the sixth year. Why is this student in fifth year?"
Harry thought to himself, I can hardly tell you that Anne dropped out before finishing her fourth year, can I?
Veratia and the others transferred into sixth year because they had dropped out after completing their fifth year to search for Harry.
Anne transferred into fifth year because the dark magic curse in her body had become uncontrollable during her fourth year, forcing her to withdraw early.
"Perhaps it's because she's a bit younger," Harry improvised. "Of course, that's not the point—"
He pointed toward the woman sitting at the staff table. "Is she our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor?"
Everyone's gaze followed his finger, landing first on Professor Dumbledore.
Dumbledore sat on the golden high-backed chair in the center of the long staff table, wearing his perennial deep purple robes covered in silver stars, with a matching hat.
He was inclining his head toward the woman sitting next to him, who was speaking into his ear. Harry thought the woman looked just like someone's maiden aunt: short, squat, with short, curly mouse-brown hair adorned with a very ugly, large pink bow that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes.
Just then, she turned her face slightly and took a sip from her goblet.
Consequently, everyone saw a pale, toad-like face and a pair of prominent, pouchy eyes.
"What a toad!" Harry shook his head in amazement. "Just as beautiful as Neville's Trevor."
"Hey!" Neville looked back at Harry indignantly. "I'm right here, you know!"
"Oh, right, you are here," Harry smirked. "Look, doesn't she look like your Trevor?"
Neville glanced at the old hag, then looked down at his toad, Trevor. He wanted to argue, but the words stuck in his throat.
No...
It's just...
She really did look damn like him.
"See?" Harry spread his hands. "You think they look alike too, don't you?"
"Indeed, very similar," Ron patted Neville's shoulder, smiling just as fake a smile. "Of course, perhaps this toad teacher will look favorably upon you for Trevor's sake."
"That's enough, you lot!" Neville knocked on the table.
Just then, Draco leaned over.
"Harry, Harry!"
"What is it?" Harry turned his head.
"That woman, she's Fudge's person," Draco said, lifting his chin and gesturing toward Umbridge. "That's her, Dolores Umbridge... Looks a lot like Longbottom's fat toad, doesn't she?"
"It's not just you; we all think so," Ron said with a laugh. For the first time in his life, he felt that Malfoy wasn't quite so... blind.
At least on this front, great minds thought alike.
"My father told me to warn you. Be careful of her," Draco said, before quietly slipping back to his seat.
Harry, of course, knew that Madam Umbridge was Fudge's lackey. He felt a bit annoyed; his plan to slack off for three years had been declared void the moment Umbridge arrived.
It was Veratia's mission, after all, to make him properly exercise his political maneuvering skills in school—to be a wizard, sure, one could rely solely on magical power, but wizards had a society too, and one could not escape the vortex of politics.
At that moment, Hagrid walked in and sat in his designated seat.
Upon seeing Harry, Hagrid extended a hand and waved.
Harry did the same, and even silently mouthed the words: "Rock Cakes!"
Seeing Harry's lip movement, Hagrid became even happier.
That someone liked his Rock Cakes—and his best friend Harry, no less—how could that not make him happy?
He decided in his heart that he definitely had to add extra ingredients to the Rock Cakes this time.
He had to make sure Harry ate happily and ate with confidence.
Anne: I am absolutely doomed.
About half a minute later, the doors to the Hall opened, and a long line of terrified-looking first years entered, led by Professor McGonagall.
Professor McGonagall was carrying a stool with an ancient wizard's hat placed upon it. The hat was patched and frayed, and near the brim, which was worn threadbare, there was a wide rip.
It was the Sorting Hat. Harry hadn't seen it since... well, since the last time.
The buzzing conversation in the Great Hall gradually subsided. The first years lined up in front of the staff table, facing the students of other years, just as every incoming class did.
Professor McGonagall carefully placed the stool in front of them, then stepped back.
The faces of the first years shone pale in the candlelight. A small boy in the middle of the line seemed to be trembling.
Looking at this little boy, Harry couldn't help but recall that when he was Sorted for the first time a hundred years ago, he must have been just as uneasy as this boy, right?
Fortunately, he had Garreth to look after him back then, and he had made so many good friends at Hogwarts—of course, Cassandra was indispensable.
If Cassandra hadn't been helping him in the shadows, those pure-bloods in Slytherin probably would have buzzed around harassing him like flies.
Thinking of this, Harry felt a sudden pang of missing Cassandra.
When he turned his head, wanting to look for Cassandra, his gaze found nothing at the Slytherin table.
Sigh...
He sighed inwardly.
However... he would find time to visit her in a few days.
With this thought, Harry lowered his head and sniffed his own robes.
There was still Cassandra's scent on them—it seemed Cassandra had fixed some charms on the robes to ensure the scent would never dissipate.
When he looked up again, the rip near the brim of the Sorting Hat opened like a mouth, and it began to sing loudly.
It was nothing more than the usual nonsense songs made up on the spot every year, incomprehensible to most.
However, this year's song clearly had depth and was very educational.
It emphasized the necessity of unity in its lyrics, but it also knew that ever since Phineas Nigellus Black had stepped down as Headmaster of Hogwarts, the four Houses of Hogwarts had never truly united.
Not once.
"It branched out a bit this year, didn't it?" Ron asked, raising his eyebrows.
"I suppose so," Harry said hesitantly. What he didn't say was that he had also heard the Sorting Hat sing a song that strayed from the topic before—back in 1889.
"I wonder if it has ever given warnings before?" Hermione asked, her voice sounding slightly anxious.
"It has, it has," Nearly Headless Nick said knowingly, leaning across Neville toward Hermione. "In 1889, back when Phineas Black was Headmaster, the Sorting Hat reminded the students to stand together..."
"And what happened then?" Ron asked eagerly.
"Oh, the four Houses united, of course," Nearly Headless Nick said with a laugh.
"Huh?!" Ron was in disbelief. "How is that possible? Slytherin a hundred years ago must have held to the pure-blood creed even more strictly than now. How could they possibly unite with the other Houses?"
"That's because you don't know just how detestable Headmaster Phineas Black was," Nearly Headless Nick said teasingly. After speaking, he drifted away.
How detestable?
Ron thought about it. Could he be more detestable than Snape?
Far away in the Headmaster's office, Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black sneezed.
He did not yet know that his title of "The Most Unpopular Person in Hogwarts History" was about to leave him.
"Silence!"
Professor McGonagall kept a straight face and rapped on the table with one hand.
The students who had been whispering immediately lowered their heads or sat up straight. In short... no one dared to stroke Professor McGonagall's whiskers.
Are you kidding? Anyone blind enough to provoke Professor McGonagall would surely find out what a heavy hand the cat professor had.
"Euan Abercrombie!" Professor McGonagall called out the first name loudly.
The terrified-looking little boy from earlier stumbled forward and sat on the stool.
"Abercrombie?" Ron asked in a very low voice. "If he were in our year, would he be first, or would Hannah Abbott be first?"
"Definitely Miss Abbott," Hermione lowered her head and answered with certainty. "Look, Abercrombie is A-b-e-r-c-r-o-m-b-i-e, while Abbott is A-b-b-o-t-t. The first and second letters are the same. For the third letter, Abbott has B, and Abercrombie has E. Reckoning by that, B comes before E, so Miss Abbott would be ahead of Abercrombie."
"Is there any surname that could be ahead of Abbott?" Ron asked, unwilling to give up.
"Yes," Harry interjected. "Abbadon. A-b-b-a-d-o-n. The first three are ABB, same as Abbott, but the fourth letter A is much earlier than O."
Just then, the Sorting Hat announced the result.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
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