Deaf and even lame people can see it - well, blind people can't see it, but Harry Potter's expression didn't seem quite right.
The boy mechanically clapped his hands, joining everyone in welcoming Tom, but he couldn't hold it in—
Across the Ravenclaw's long table, Harry looked up and met Cedric's gaze from the other side, both of them seeing bewilderment and shock in each other's eyes—Tom was sorted into Gryffindor? How much fake liquor must we have consumed to have such a daydream?
No, absolutely the Hat must have gotten drunk on fake liquor!
The two then simultaneously turned to look at the Sorting Hat, which was now held in Professor McGonagall's arms after the sorting ended.
Sure enough, the brim on both sides of the Sorting Hat was drooping, and just by looking at it, you could feel the profound sense of helplessness from the soul inside the Hat. William's gaze also lingered on the Hat, carrying a hint of apology—though he couldn't promise anything to the Sorting Hat...
One can't just say, "We'll get it a female hat in a few days," can they?
"...Well, let's eat!"
Dumbledore is probably the least fond of rambling headmaster William has ever seen; he didn't even bother to stand up, just raised his arm from his table, which promptly produced syrup pie and a bowl of ice cream—
But before the old man could pick up his spoon, Professor Meow, having just seen off the Sorting Hat, appeared behind him and swapped the tray for a serving of gravy mashed potatoes.
"..."
The elderly man, having failed in his sneaky attempt, sighed helplessly and resignedly dug into the potatoes.
The expression of misfortune looked remarkably like an abused solitary old man.
Soon, the start-of-term feast was nearing its end amidst the rich aroma, and only when the last ice cream on the long table was devoured did all the students' eyes focus on the head table. Dumbledore wiped his beard and slowly stood up, moving over to the owl microphone—
"Alright, since we are now digesting an incredibly sumptuous meal, I shall ask everyone for silence for a moment while I talk about the new semester's announcements, as usual."
Dumbledore blinked and said, "I suspect first-year students should know by now that the Forbidden Forest and the grounds are off-limits to students—this is something our senior students should also be aware of."
Fred and George burst out laughing.
"This year, we welcome a new member to our teaching staff—also an old friend."
Dumbledore paused, "The boundaries of knowledge are expanding, and the world we inhabit is not a fairytale—although the magical war has come to an end," (the crowd buzzed), "the pain and warning it brought still linger. To better enable students to master the power to protect themselves and what is important, and to understand the magic we learn…
"Yes, as you may all know, this semester we are introducing a new elective course, which is Wizard Magic practical application teaching, namely, Dueling Class."
Immediately, the hall was filled with a buzz of discussion, and many people craned their necks to look at the head table, everyone who wasn't completely oblivious had noticed the extra person.
"...Now, I am very honored to announce to you our first Dueling Class professor—Professor William Richard!"
William stood up at the right moment, with a prepared smile, somewhere between "humble" and "kids, your good days are over," and slightly bowed to the audience.
"Professor Richard, as last year's outstanding graduate, has shown his talents in magic practice, combat thinking, and... hmm, charm innovation is the most ideal candidate for starting this entirely new course."
Dumbledore stumbled a bit while praising, yet his words still received even warmer applause.
And William, after taking a moment (not a brief moment) to enjoy, pressed his hands down, signaling the boisterous hall to gradually settle down.
"I am very honored, ah, to take up the position of a full-time professor at Hogwarts, so as the Dueling Class professor, let me briefly (not briefly) say a few words..."
William was completely unlike Dumbledore—yes, he liked to ramble; after a long ten-minute monologue, during which the crowd listened with somewhat glazed expressions, William finally wrapped up his lengthy speech, "...So, to help all students better understand the content of this course, there will be a public class in the great hall this Friday afternoon, regarding which, I have a few additional points..."
"—Yes, I welcome all students interested in taking the course to participate, alright, students can now head back to their dormitories, first-year students, please follow your respective house Prefects!"
Dumbledore forcefully interrupted William, who seemed to want to keep chatting, quickly organizing the crowd and signaling the student council president to quickly lead the evacuation—Cedric decisively made an OK gesture to indicate receipt, then proceeded to direct Prefects of each house to rapidly lead the departure.
Thus, William could only watch the barren hall and silently sigh...
... then he packed away the fourteen-inch long parchment he had just pulled out, having spontaneously improvised only a little.
...
After the chaotic scene of new students repeatedly joining the wrong groups or unable to find their dormitories which occurs every year at the start of term, calm finally restored in the castle.
In the Headmaster's Office, the air retained a sweet aroma of lemon sherbet candy as Dumbledore lay back with his eyes closed on a wooden rattan lounge chair, his expression looked tranquil, but his trembling chin still inadvertently exposed the old man's unsettled emotions—
"You can call out if you're in pain, old Dumbledore."
William gripped his magic wand, golden 'webbing' emerged from its tip, drawing out and dispersing wisps of black air in the atmosphere, "I definitely won't photograph your unsightly appearance and publish it in the next day's Prophet Daily, authored by Skeeter with a fabricated 'Dumbledore on the brink, William to take over'... such an article."
"...You don't need to say it so meticulously."
"Otherwise, how can I seem genuine?"
"A true virtue."
Dumbledore casually bantered along with William—he needed something to distract himself; at this moment, the old man's shriveled, charred arm was resting on the lounge chair's armrest, while William, like a dentist, sat beside him, using tweezers (magic wand) to extract a rotten tooth (curse).
The pain, akin to the curse gradually unwinding, continued incessantly, thread by thread, eroding Dumbledore's spirit.
Finally, the old man gazed at the ceiling as if thinking of something, "Oh, about Tom..."
William's actions paused slightly.