The Admiral of Hogwarts

No sooner had Professor McGonagall left the room than the first-year students started whispering to each other again. Of course, at this moment, everyone was most concerned about the Sorting Ceremony that would happen later. So, almost all the conversations Hugo heard were about how the Sorting Ceremony would work.

Apart from the little wizards asking their classmates, most of the little wizards were either silent or muttering something to themselves. Perhaps because the atmosphere had become dull, even those few students who had been asking about how the school did the Sorting Ceremony had fallen silent.

Hugo heard Hermione beside him constantly muttering something, as if she was reciting the texts and spells she had memorized before. Seeing his sister so nervous, he instinctively reached out and held Hermione's somewhat cold hand. This was a way for the two siblings to comfort each other when they were nervous.

It was quite effective. Although Hermione didn't stop reciting the contents of the textbooks, at least she wasn't trembling slightly with excitement anymore.

"Oh my goodness—" Several exclamations suddenly came from the first-year students. Hugo was drawn by the exclamations and looked up, only to find twenty or so ghosts suddenly darting out from the wall behind them. These pearly white, translucent ghosts glided across the entire room, talking amongst themselves.

The ghosts paid little attention to the first-year students below, seemingly arguing about something. A chubby ghost resembling a little monk said, "We should forgive, we should forget, I say, we should give him another chance—"

"My good monk, haven't we given Peeves enough chances? But he's given us all nasty nicknames. You know, he doesn't even qualify as a proper ghost—I say, what are you doing here?" A ghost wearing a ruff suddenly noticed the first-year students.

No one answered, including Hugo. After all, seeing a ghost on a computer screen and actually encountering a ghost in real life gave people completely different feelings, so Hugo was also in shock.

"New students!" the chubby monk said to them with a smile. "I imagine you're about to be tested?"

Perhaps because this monk ghost looked very kind, several of the bolder new students nodded silently. And after seeing that his question had been answered, this chubby monk ghost seemed quite excited. "I hope you're sorted into Hufflepuff! I used to be in that house."

At this moment, Professor McGonagall returned, and the ghosts filed through the opposite wall and disappeared. "Now, form a single line," Professor McGonagall said to the first-year students, "and follow me."

Everyone silently followed Professor McGonagall out of the room, through the entrance hall, and through a pair of double doors at the back into a magnificent dining hall. The students of the remaining six years were already sitting around four long tables, arranged by house. Thousands of candles floating in the air above the tables illuminated the entire dining hall.

"That candle must have been enchanted," Venetto whispered to Hugo, leaning closer. "If it were the ordinary candles we used before, even doubling the number of candles above wouldn't be enough to light this place up so much."

Hugo admitted that Venetto was right. At least, ordinary candles would definitely drip wax. So, on that basis, making the candles a little brighter shouldn't be too difficult for wizards.

Gleaming golden plates and goblets were set on the four tables. At the head of the hall, another long table was set up, which was for the teachers' seats.

Hugo recognized Headmaster Dumbledore at first glance, because his silvery-white beard looked so dazzling that it was difficult for anyone entering the hall to ignore it. Next, he gradually recognized the other professors. After all, Hogwarts professors all had quite distinctive appearances, making it difficult to confuse them.

Professor McGonagall led the first-year students over there, having them line up facing the entire upper-year students, with the teachers behind them. The candlelight flickered, and hundreds of faces watching them were like pale lanterns. The ghosts were also mixed in among the students, flashing with a hazy silver light.

Then, she gently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first-year students, and then took out a pointed wizard's hat from who-knows-where and placed it on the four-legged stool.

This hat was patched up, very old, and extremely dirty. Hugo had always suspected that in the more than 1,000 years since this hat was made, it probably hadn't been cleaned at all. But theoretically, it shouldn't be too difficult for wizards to cast a spell to clean it.

So, Hugo suspected that this may be because, as a magical artifact that had experienced more than 1,000 years, even the hat that had been enchanted by the four founders was now incredibly fragile due to the long passage of time, and could not even withstand any magic or purely manual cleaning methods.

Unlike the habit of Hugo's homeland in his previous life of restoring cultural relics to their original state, Europe and the United States are more accustomed to restoring cultural relics to look like new. For example, for bronzes, Chinese archaeologists generally leave the rust and patina on the top that does not affect the strength of the utensils during restoration, but Western archaeologists will clean the surface of the utensils completely.

So, under normal circumstances, as such an important magical tool that is even representative in the entire British magical world, neither Hogwarts nor other institutions in the UK would allow the Sorting Hat to be so tattered. Unless they really couldn't clean and repair it.

Just as Hugo was thinking about this question, the hat trembled slightly at first, and then the frequency of the shaking became greater and greater. At the same time, a wide crack opened at the edge of the hat, like a mouth—and then it began to sing in a very strange tone:

You may not think I'm pretty,\nBut don't judge on what you see,\nI'll eat myself if you can find\nA smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,\nYour top hats sleek and tall,\nFor I'm the Sorting Hat and I can cap\nThem all.

There is nothing hidden in your head\nThe Sorting Hat can't see,\nSo try me on and I will tell you\nWhere you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,\nWhere dwell the brave at heart,\nTheir daring, nerve, and chivalry\nSet Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,\nWhere they are just and loyal,\nThose patient Hufflepuffs are true\nAnd unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,\nIf you've a ready mind,\nWhere those of wit and learning,\nWill always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin\nYou'll make your real friends,\nThose cunning folk use any means\nTo achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!\nAnd don't get in a flap!\nYou're in safe hands (though I have none)\nFor I'm a Thinking Cap!

After the song ended, there was thunderous applause, but Hugo thought that this was probably because the hat's song was really too unpleasant to listen to, so everyone seemed so happy when it stopped singing.

The Sorting Hat bowed to the four tables one by one, and then became still. Professor McGonagall then walked forward a few steps, holding a roll of parchment in her hand.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat, sit on the stool, and wait for the Sorting."

The most important Sorting Ceremony of the start of the school year is about to begin.