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Chapter 45: The Iron-Clad Tradition
Opening Ceremonies are always boring, and that holds true even in the magical world.
Fifteen minutes into the Opening Ceremony, William came to a profound realization of this truth of life.
The only people in this world who would be happy about an Opening Ceremony are the parents who don't have to attend.
No, perhaps one should also add the underage wizards who had been cooped up all summer holiday—William personally saw some students at the four dining tables below secretly take out their wands and attempt spellcasting under the table. They must have been pent up all summer.
"Come to think of it, could part of the reason for banning spellcasting during the summer holiday be to prevent students from developing a resistance to the start of school?"
The thought was terrifying.
William scanned the students out of boredom—not because he was particularly antisocial, but because Lockhart was so eager to show off that William, who had been dragged along by him, was being implicitly ostracized by the other professors.
It would have been better if he were a Hogwarts graduate; reminiscing about the old days could always spark a common topic. But was William supposed to share his daily life in Azkaban with these professors?
As for Lockhart, he was oblivious to their disdain, persistently pulling Professor Pomona Sprout, the Head of Hufflepuff House next to him, into a conversation, endlessly boasting about the unique American plants he had seen. The kind-hearted professor's face was turning indignant, yet Lockhart continued to ramble on.
Just as William was idly watching the students' farce, a professor suddenly rose from her chair. She pulled her chair out as quietly as possible and moved to the seat next to William.
"Professor William, may I disturb you for a moment?"
The middle-aged witch wore an apologetic expression, but the stubbornness in her eyes told William that if she didn't get an answer this time, she would be back again.
"Please, have a seat. And you are?"
"Charity Burbage, Professor of Muggle Studies."
She introduced herself in a gentle tone—it was a course William was unfamiliar with.
"I'm sorry, I know my question is rather presumptuous, especially coming from a stranger, but this problem has troubled me for a very long time, and I'm dying to know the answer."
She took out her wand and gave it a discreet flick.
"I guarantee that no wizard present, including Dumbledore, will be able to hear our ensuing conversation."
"Professor William, forgive me, but... how do the people in Azkaban view Muggles?"
The question was just as sharp as she had warned.
"I'm sorry, Professor Burbage, but I'm not willing to discuss what happened there."
William rejected her flatly—such a response was clearly not something the professor had considered. Her eyes instantly clouded with bewilderment.
"I'm sorry, I was too hasty—" Professor Burbage came to her senses, hastily apologizing and almost scrambling to move her chair back to its original spot.
William knew her actions were mostly well-intentioned—a new professor always needs someone to break the ice to fit into the circle of veterans. After she finished talking with William, most of the other professors would likely accept him naturally, unlike now, where he was being ostracized along with Lockhart because of the latter's penchant for showing off.
Unfortunately, being the subject of someone's research always gave William a strange feeling—perhaps an aftereffect of Azkaban. He always felt that letting others study him was like being surrounded by Dementors in his prison cell, having a buffet.
He could easily joke about Azkaban with Old Tom, and he could complain about that godforsaken place to Hagrid, but the moment someone else took the initiative to ask, he would immediately become extremely uncomfortable.
Fortunately, at that moment, the new students, led by Professor McGonagall, finally began the Sorting. This lifted the spirits of the professors present and swept away the awkward atmosphere from just a moment ago.
————
Rows of first-year students stood foolishly in line. Led by Professor McGonagall, they stood facing all the upperclassmen, their expressions stiff and their faces pale. They looked less like they were here for the Sorting and more like they were heading into battle.
William was momentarily stunned—what, did the Hogwarts Sorting require students to put down their wands and fight each other?
In that case, according to the hierarchy of discrimination among the four Hogwarts Houses back in prison, the fierce fighters would go to Gryffindor, those who hid until the fight was over would go to Ravenclaw, those who bribed their opponents would go to Slytherin, and the rest would go to Hufflepuff?
At this thought, William couldn't help but let out a chuckle.
Afterward, as if the laughter was contagious, all the professors at the table couldn't help but start laughing as well.
Lockhart flashed his teeth again.
"Haha, after all these years, the school's rules haven't changed a bit, have they?"
No professor responded to him.
Lockhart had no choice but to turn to William, saying with a boastful expression: "Hogwarts has a rule that nothing about the Sorting is to be revealed to children who haven't enrolled yet. Everyone makes up all sorts of excuses to trick the children. I bet most of the students down there think they need to have a fight for the Sorting."
Who on earth came up with such a pointless rule?
And they've kept it up for generations, just to watch the first-years worry and fret?
Alright, it was admittedly very amusing—William had to concede.
It became even more wickedly funny after Lockhart's explanation.
Just as Lockhart was explaining, Professor McGonagall gently placed a four-legged stool in front of the new first-year students. Then, she brought over a pointed wizard's hat and placed it on the stool.
The old, patched hat was of a style from who knows how long ago. It was tattered and frayed, looking as if it had lost even the value of being cleaned.
While William was waiting for Lockhart's showy explanation, the tattered hat suddenly started singing at the top of its lungs.
The singing was awful and off-key. By the time William finished listening with a frown, he realized that many of the professors had plugged their ears with magic.
I was careless.
William saw that even Lockhart next to him had remembered to plug his ears, and he instantly regretted his own foolishness.
He might not have understood the ways of Hogwarts, but the surrounding professors did. When encountering something new, he just had to follow their lead, and he would have been fine.
After the Sorting Hat's song ended, the hall erupted in applause, as if celebrating the final release of their ears. The singing hat bowed to all four sides in response to the applause.
After the applause died down, Professor McGonagall walked over to the Sorting Hat's position, carrying a sheet of parchment.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted."
The Professor said loudly, then raised the parchment and read out the first name:
"Hannah Abbott!"
The entire hall fell silent. William saw that everyone at the Hufflepuff table had turned their necks to look at someone at their table.
Even Professor McGonagall herself froze for a moment, carefully examining the parchment.
"My apologies. Due to some things that happened today, I've brought last year's list."
(end of chapter)
Opening Ceremonies are always boring, and that holds true even in the magical world.
Fifteen minutes into the Opening Ceremony, William came to a profound realization of this truth of life.
The only people in this world who would be happy about an Opening Ceremony are the parents who don't have to attend.
No, perhaps one should also add the underage wizards who had been cooped up all summer holiday—William personally saw some students at the four dining tables below secretly take out their wands and attempt spellcasting under the table. They must have been pent up all summer.
"Come to think of it, could part of the reason for banning spellcasting during the summer holiday be to prevent students from developing a resistance to the start of school?"
The thought was terrifying.
William scanned the students out of boredom—not because he was particularly antisocial, but because Lockhart was so eager to show off that William, who had been dragged along by him, was being implicitly ostracized by the other professors.
It would have been better if he were a Hogwarts graduate; reminiscing about the old days could always spark a common topic. But was William supposed to share his daily life in Azkaban with these professors?
As for Lockhart, he was oblivious to their disdain, persistently pulling Professor Pomona Sprout, the Head of Hufflepuff House next to him, into a conversation, endlessly boasting about the unique American plants he had seen. The kind-hearted professor's face was turning indignant, yet Lockhart continued to ramble on.
Just as William was idly watching the students' farce, a professor suddenly rose from her chair. She pulled her chair out as quietly as possible and moved to the seat next to William.
"Professor William, may I disturb you for a moment?"
The middle-aged witch wore an apologetic expression, but the stubbornness in her eyes told William that if she didn't get an answer this time, she would be back again.
"Please, have a seat. And you are?"
"Charity Burbage, Professor of Muggle Studies."
She introduced herself in a gentle tone—it was a course William was unfamiliar with.
"I'm sorry, I know my question is rather presumptuous, especially coming from a stranger, but this problem has troubled me for a very long time, and I'm dying to know the answer."
She took out her wand and gave it a discreet flick.
"I guarantee that no wizard present, including Dumbledore, will be able to hear our ensuing conversation."
"Professor William, forgive me, but... how do the people in Azkaban view Muggles?"
The question was just as sharp as she had warned.
"I'm sorry, Professor Burbage, but I'm not willing to discuss what happened there."
William rejected her flatly—such a response was clearly not something the professor had considered. Her eyes instantly clouded with bewilderment.
"I'm sorry, I was too hasty—" Professor Burbage came to her senses, hastily apologizing and almost scrambling to move her chair back to its original spot.
William knew her actions were mostly well-intentioned—a new professor always needs someone to break the ice to fit into the circle of veterans. After she finished talking with William, most of the other professors would likely accept him naturally, unlike now, where he was being ostracized along with Lockhart because of the latter's penchant for showing off.
Unfortunately, being the subject of someone's research always gave William a strange feeling—perhaps an aftereffect of Azkaban. He always felt that letting others study him was like being surrounded by Dementors in his prison cell, having a buffet.
He could easily joke about Azkaban with Old Tom, and he could complain about that godforsaken place to Hagrid, but the moment someone else took the initiative to ask, he would immediately become extremely uncomfortable.
Fortunately, at that moment, the new students, led by Professor McGonagall, finally began the Sorting. This lifted the spirits of the professors present and swept away the awkward atmosphere from just a moment ago.
————
Rows of first-year students stood foolishly in line. Led by Professor McGonagall, they stood facing all the upperclassmen, their expressions stiff and their faces pale. They looked less like they were here for the Sorting and more like they were heading into battle.
William was momentarily stunned—what, did the Hogwarts Sorting require students to put down their wands and fight each other?
In that case, according to the hierarchy of discrimination among the four Hogwarts Houses back in prison, the fierce fighters would go to Gryffindor, those who hid until the fight was over would go to Ravenclaw, those who bribed their opponents would go to Slytherin, and the rest would go to Hufflepuff?
At this thought, William couldn't help but let out a chuckle.
Afterward, as if the laughter was contagious, all the professors at the table couldn't help but start laughing as well.
Lockhart flashed his teeth again.
"Haha, after all these years, the school's rules haven't changed a bit, have they?"
No professor responded to him.
Lockhart had no choice but to turn to William, saying with a boastful expression: "Hogwarts has a rule that nothing about the Sorting is to be revealed to children who haven't enrolled yet. Everyone makes up all sorts of excuses to trick the children. I bet most of the students down there think they need to have a fight for the Sorting."
Who on earth came up with such a pointless rule?
And they've kept it up for generations, just to watch the first-years worry and fret?
Alright, it was admittedly very amusing—William had to concede.
It became even more wickedly funny after Lockhart's explanation.
Just as Lockhart was explaining, Professor McGonagall gently placed a four-legged stool in front of the new first-year students. Then, she brought over a pointed wizard's hat and placed it on the stool.
The old, patched hat was of a style from who knows how long ago. It was tattered and frayed, looking as if it had lost even the value of being cleaned.
While William was waiting for Lockhart's showy explanation, the tattered hat suddenly started singing at the top of its lungs.
The singing was awful and off-key. By the time William finished listening with a frown, he realized that many of the professors had plugged their ears with magic.
I was careless.
William saw that even Lockhart next to him had remembered to plug his ears, and he instantly regretted his own foolishness.
He might not have understood the ways of Hogwarts, but the surrounding professors did. When encountering something new, he just had to follow their lead, and he would have been fine.
After the Sorting Hat's song ended, the hall erupted in applause, as if celebrating the final release of their ears. The singing hat bowed to all four sides in response to the applause.
After the applause died down, Professor McGonagall walked over to the Sorting Hat's position, carrying a sheet of parchment.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted."
The Professor said loudly, then raised the parchment and read out the first name:
"Hannah Abbott!"
The entire hall fell silent. William saw that everyone at the Hufflepuff table had turned their necks to look at someone at their table.
Even Professor McGonagall herself froze for a moment, carefully examining the parchment.
"My apologies. Due to some things that happened today, I've brought last year's list."
(end of chapter)
