It had to be said—
When about twenty ghostly figures erged from the walls, even the bravest person would’ve jumped without warning.
Let alone these young witches and wizards...
The translucent ghosts didn’t seem to notice the students at all, continuing their conversation as they floated through the air.
“We could give him another chan—huh?”
“Judging by their robes, these must be the new first-years.”
“I suppose they’re waiting for the Sorting Ceremony to begin?”
“Hmm... I can’t believe it’s that ti of year again already.”
The one speaking was a plump ghost gliding smoothly above them. From the monk-like robe he wore, it looked like sothing only people from the last century would be caught dead in...
In response to the ghosts’ remarks, all the little wizards nodded instinctively.
But interestingly, a few of them—including Draco—didn’t show much fear or curiosity.
It was as if ghosts drifting through the castle was just an ordinary occurrence.
In other words—
Like passing a dog on the street. Nothing to get worked up about.
And the clever Hermione noticed this detail.
More specifically, she noticed it because she kept glancing in Draco’s direction from ti to ti.
By the way—
Thanks to what had happened earlier, along with the strange reactions of everyone around her, Hermione—who had clearly sensed sothing was off—was no longer standing beside Draco.
Not because he annoyed her or anything...
Definitely not.
...
The ghostly visit turned out to be nothing more than a brief and unexpected interruption.
Almost imdiately after the ghosts disappeared, Professor McGonagall returned, as if it had all been perfectly tid.
“Everyone, follow . The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin.”
Draco and the others followed her through a pair of tall double doors into what was unmistakably the Great Hall.
“This is where the Sorting Ceremony will take place.”
They could see it clearly now.
Four long tables stretched across the hall, each one packed with students.
Thousands of candles floated in midair, casting a warm glow over the vast room.
Above them, a deep velvet-black ceiling shimred with starlight.
“It’s enchanted to look like the night sky outside. I read about it in A History of Hogwarts.”
If it weren’t for one academic little witch muttering to herself, so of the students might’ve thought the ceiling was real...
Golden plates sat empty on the tables.
The goblets weren’t filled either.
Clearly, the feast hadn’t started yet—they were waiting for the Sorting to begin.
Beyond the four long tables, at the far end of the hall, was the staff table where the Hogwarts professors sat.
Draco, however, wasn’t paying attention to the decorations.
Nor was he looking at the strange hat that had suddenly started singing...
“That man... is he really the most powerful wizard in the world?”
Headmaster of Hogwarts.
Order of rlin, First Class.
President of the International Confederation of Wizards.
Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.
A wizard hailed as the greatest of his age—accomplishnts others could only dream of achieving in a lifeti.
Albus Dumbledore!
...
Just as Draco was quietly observing the man hailed as the greatest wizard of their ti, the Sorting Ceremony began.
It wasn’t until a familiar na rang out that Draco snapped back to reality.
“Hermione Granger!”
He looked toward the front.
There she was—clearly nervous and uneasy—walking up to the stool where the Sorting Hat waited, called forth by Professor McGonagall.
But sothing puzzled Draco.
Why did that interesting little witch glance at him before going up?
“Hmm…”
He didn’t quite get it, but still, he nodded at her.
If it gave her even the slightest bit of confidence, Draco didn’t mind offering that small gesture.
As for what Hermione herself was thinking—
She probably didn’t know either. It just happened instinctively.
After all, before arriving here, Draco had been the only one she could really talk to.
Or maybe it was just that not everyone could handle soone who brought up facts from textbooks in every conversation.
Though honestly, during their brief interactions, it often felt like Draco was just teasing her...
“Gryffindor!”
Clap!
A round of applause erupted.
Face flushed, Hermione stumbled her way to the Gryffindor table and took a seat.
It was clear she wasn’t used to being the center of attention.
She looked much cuter like this—without all that bravado.
“Well... courage really is one of Gryffindor’s defining traits.”
Draco wasn’t surprised by her Sorting.
Even if Hermione hadn’t initially known who he was, she’d clearly sensed there was sothing unusual about him later on. And despite that, she still chose to approach him on her own.
He didn’t know why.
But that alone was proof enough that the little witch had a surprising amount of courage packed into that small fra...
Just as he was thinking this, Professor McGonagall, holding the parchnt, visibly paused before calling the next na.
“Draco Malfoy!”
Unlike before, when the nas of other new students had been called, the atmosphere now was... strange.
To be more precise—it was completely silent.
“Ron, what’s going on?”
“He’s a Death Eater... everyone’s scared of him.”
“Death Eater?”
“Trust , Harry. That guy’s your textbook Slytherin.”
Back on the train, Ron had already filled Harry in on everything wrong with Slytherin House.
And their encounter with those two self-proclaid pure-blood wizards barging into their compartnt had only confird it.
So...
Even though Harry still didn’t really understand what a Death Eater was, Ron’s grim expression and harsh tone made the newly befriended Harry Potter nod along, half-understanding.
But... why?
Wasn’t he just another new student too...?
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