As the heavy hat settled onto Ethan's head, he suddenly heard a soft voice whisper in his mind.
"Aha... you're a bit older than the usual first-year, aren't you? You already have clear likes and dislikes, opinions, expectations... and a remarkably strong mind for your age."
"Hmm… and you never give up easily, do you? Not afraid of challenges ahead. Though you arrived late tonight, you chose loyalty to your friend without hesitation."
"Hmm… perhaps… there's something else about you, something intriguing I sense, though it remains unclear… What could it be?"
[I dunno.] Ethan's mischievous side took over, and he began playfully teasing the Sorting Hat in his mind.
"Interesting. You have such clear self-awareness, yet no clear plans for your future. Fascinating indeed. Where to put you, then?"
[Which one should I choose? Which one should I choose?] Ethan echoed theatrically in his thoughts.
"…" The Sorting Hat fell into an awkward silence.
[Hey, hey, hey, buddy, why aren't you talking? Let's chat a bit more!]
"…"
[Wow, this hat is pretty lame. Just a few words and it's already speechless.]
"…"
[Not like me—I'm super brave, and super talkative!]
"…"
[Hatty, oh Hatty, I've been talking to you so much. You're not jealous, are you? You're not mad, right? You're not gonna refuse to sort me, right? Unlike you, I only have love for Hatty~]
"…"
[I'll be right here waiting for you~ waiting for you, under the peach blossoms~]
[Baby come back~ I can't handle this alone~]
[Never gonna give you up~ Never gonna let you down~ Never gonna run around and desert you~]
"…Perhaps I should just ask your opinion directly. Which house interests you?"
[Oh, you finally decided to speak up, old buddy! Well, about the houses… just pick one for me. If you really can't decide, just randomly toss me somewhere.]
"Randomly? Sorting is a serious matter, I can't just casually place you anywhere. Everyone else is nervous beyond belief, but someone as carefree as you… this is a first."
[Then give me something exciting.]
"Ah… looking for excitement, are you? I think I understand. You belong in—"
"GRYFFINDOR!"
As the Sorting Hat loudly announced Ethan's house, the Gryffindor table burst into thunderous cheers and applause. Professor McGonagall lifted the hat from Ethan's head, and he rose to his feet, walking over to join his new housemates, greeting them as he sat down.
"Good evening, everyone! Please take care of me from now on."
"Welcome to Gryffindor, uh, ... Um…" A red-haired older student sitting beside Ethan stumbled awkwardly over his name.
"Ethan. Just call me Ethan," he clarified helpfully.
"Right, Ethan. I'm Percy—Percy Weasley, Gryffindor prefect," Percy said, shaking Ethan's hand warmly.
"Ethan! You're that—" A freckled red-haired boy sitting opposite Ethan exclaimed in a hushed voice, "My dad mentioned you before!"
"Ron, this isn't the place to talk about that," Percy interrupted sternly.
"Sorry about that," the boy said sheepishly. "I'm Ron—Ron Weasley, Percy's younger brother. Nice to meet you, Ethan."
"Nice to meet you too," Ethan smiled.
Ron Weasley. Youngest son of the Weasley family, proud member of Gryffindor's infamous point-losing squad. His most remarkable achievement was sleeping with a middle-aged man for three whole years.
After greeting Ethan, Ron turned back and whispered excitedly to the boy next to him.
[Hmm, messy black hair, glasses, lightning-shaped scar—definitely Harry Potter. Then sitting on my other side must be…]
Ethan turned slightly and glanced at the girl to his left.
Messy hair, big front teeth—yep, definitely Hermione the know-it-all.
[Then that means over there are…] Ethan glanced further down the table and saw a pair of identical twins next to Ron, busy teasing Percy and making him blush furiously.
Ah yes, the Bludger brothers—the Weasley twins.
"Your attention, please!" Professor McGonagall tapped her spoon gently against a goblet.
Albus Dumbledore rose to his feet, beaming warmly at all the students. He spread his arms wide, as if nothing delighted him more than seeing them gathered here tonight.
"Welcome!" he said cheerfully. "Welcome to Hogwarts for the start of another wonderful year! Before we begin our feast, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"
The students burst into applause and cheers. With a wave of Dumbledore's hands, food appeared instantly, filling the empty golden dishes along the tables: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, lamb ribs, sausages, steaks, chicken legs, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, and—for some inexplicable reason—peppermint humbugs.
Ethan eagerly rubbed his hands together, piling a bit of every kind of meat onto his plate and grabbing his knife and fork, ready to dig in.
"Looks delicious," a ghost wearing a ruffled collar floated up from the center of the table, eyeing Ethan longingly as he bit into a lamb chop, "though I wouldn't know."
"Why don't you try some then?" Harry asked politely from nearby.
"I haven't eaten anything for nearly four hundred years," the ghost sighed wistfully. "I don't need to eat, of course, but I do miss the taste terribly. Ah, forgive my rudeness—I haven't introduced myself. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."
"I know who you are!" Ron swallowed a mouthful of chicken leg, exclaiming excitedly. "My brothers told me about you—you're Nearly Headless Nick!"
"I prefer Sir Nicholas, if you don't mind," the ghost replied with slight embarrassment.
"Nearly headless?" Hermione asked curiously. "How can you be nearly headless?"
"Like this." Nick grasped his hair and pulled sharply to the side. His head swung sideways, dangling grotesquely, connected to his neck by only a thin piece of skin. Clearly, someone had botched the job of beheading him.
Hermione turned away immediately, her expression looking distinctly nauseated.
"Wow, impressive!" Ethan leaned in, inspecting Nick's exposed cross-section with genuine curiosity. "Judging by the muscle and blood vessel patterns, you must've taken at least thirty blows."
"Forty-four, actually," Nick replied, a bit disappointed Ethan wasn't more frightened. He carefully placed his head back upright and cleared his throat.
"Now then, new Gryffindors! I sincerely hope you'll help us win the House Cup this year, hmm? Gryffindor hasn't gone so long without a victory in ages—Slytherin has won six years in a row! Their ghost, the Bloody Baron, never stops bragging about it. Insufferable."
Ethan glanced over at the Weasley twins, who were suddenly burying their heads in their plates like ostriches, and understood everything instantly. He turned toward the trio of protagonists sitting nearby and sighed inwardly.
"Ah, what an ill-fated house we are."
When everyone had eaten their fill, the remaining food vanished, leaving the plates sparkling clean. Moments later, desserts of all kinds appeared—cakes, puddings, pies, and more.
Ethan took a slice of cream cake, nibbling at it slowly with his fork. The conversation around the table had turned to each student's family background.
"I'm half-and-half," Seamus Finnigan said cheerfully. "Me dad's a Muggle—Mam didn't tell him she was a witch until after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."
Everyone laughed, and Hermione turned to Ethan. "What about you, Ethan?"
"Me? My parents are both gone," Ethan said casually, swallowing a bite of cake. "I don't even know if they were Muggles or wizards."
"Oh...I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—" Hermione stammered awkwardly, the atmosphere at the table suddenly growing tense.
"Don't worry about it. It's really fine," Ethan said easily, shrugging.
At that moment, Harry suddenly spoke up. "Percy, who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?"
Ethan and Percy both turned their heads, following Harry's gaze. Next to Professor Quirrell, who wore a ridiculous turban, sat a professor with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.
"That's Professor Snape," Percy explained in a low voice. "Head of Slytherin house. He teaches Potions, but everyone knows he's always wanted Quirrell's job. Snape knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts."
"Why is his hair so oily? Does he never wash it?" Ethan joked, scanning the teachers seated behind the high table.
"No idea. Nobody's brave enough to ask," Percy shrugged.
Ethan soon spotted Professor Fig seated further down the table. Fig sensed Ethan's gaze, lifted his head, and offered a warm smile, raising his goblet slightly in Ethan's direction.
Ethan returned the smile, lifting his own gilded goblet in response and draining it in one smooth gulp.