Chapter 35 : Sorting Ceremony II
As he searched for the blondie, Tyson happened to spot Hermione standing beside him, her mouth hanging open in pure disbelief, as though someone had just told her the library was closed forever.
When she noticed him looking, she tilted her head toward him, her eyes filled with countless questions.
Tyson knew what she was thinking.
She must have been expecting him to lose, which was understandable since Ron and Daphne had literally grown up in the wizarding world, unlike him, a Muggle-born. How could an outsider know more about Hogwarts and its traditions than the natives?
'Burn.'
This was one of the many perks of being a reincarnator who was familiar with the plot.
Not that he could tell her that. So he just shrugged and tapped his temple with one finger. The meaning was pretty clear.
Hermione's mouth opened, closed, then opened again. After a moment, he heard her mutter under her breath, "Betting is still wrong."
Tyson rolled his eyes.
Hermione truly was the embodiment of morality at this point in the story. It was astonishing how she would go from this to slapping Dragon Boy across the face and blasting locks open with Bombarda.
Ron, standing just ahead of her, kept shooting quick glances back at Tyson.
The redhead looked genuinely relieved that no one was getting thrown at a dragon or a troll, but there was also a faint flicker of disappointment in his eyes, as though some wild part of him had been low-key hoping for a bit of chaos.
'What a bastard.'
He scanned the crowd again for Daphne, but she was nowhere in sight. A whole minute passed with nothing. Then Hermione nudged him with her elbow, giving a quick, pointed glance over her shoulder.
Tyson was struck by a sudden realization and turned around abruptly.
There she was—Daphne Greengrass—hiding directly behind him, close enough that her sleeve nearly brushed his!
Their eyes met, and a teasing smirk tugged at Tyson's lips as he watched her jaw tighten.
She huffed softly and looked away, focusing on the Sorting Hat as though it were the most interesting thing in the world. Almost on cue, Professor McGonagall's crisp voice rang out.
"Greengrass, Daphne!"
Daphne straightened, slipping her indifferent mask back into place before striding forward. The hat settled onto her head and took its sweet time, murmuring away while the hall waited in anticipation.
Finally, it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"
The green table applauded with restrained approval.
Daphne rose smoothly, but as she passed their group on her way to join her new housemates, her cool blue eyes locked onto Tyson's.
He met her gaze head-on and mouthed clearly,
'Pleasure doing business with you, Your Majesty.'
She didn't stop walking, but the slight flare of her nostrils gave him all the satisfaction he needed.
"Granger, Hermione!" Professor McGonagall called next.
"Good luck," Tyson whispered, giving her a small nudge.
Hermione nodded, looking a bit nervous, and stepped forward to take her seat on the stool.
The hat dropped onto her head and then stayed there.
Like, really stayed there.
A whole minute passed, but nothing happened.
Oh, right, Tyson realized.
Hermione was described as a quasi-Hatstall in the books. She was suitable for both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, if he remembered correctly, just like Professor McGonagall.
The latter, however, had been a genuine Hatstall, unlike Hermione's quasi-Hatstall. The difference between the two was as vast as the difference between heaven and earth.
After almost four minutes, the hat shouted,
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The red-and-gold table erupted into cheers.
Hermione looked both relieved and thrilled as she hurried over to join them, already looking right at home. Tyson wondered if he should tell her that the next few weeks were going to be hell.
[A/N: Dw gng, you know he isn't cold-blooded. I'm sure he'll help her out.]
The Sorting Ceremony continued. One by one, more names were called. Sometimes the hat decided in seconds. Sometimes it took a minute or two, as though thinking deeply before announcing its choice.
Neville, unsurprisingly, was also sorted into Gryffindor. It took almost as long as Hermione's sorting. But Neville, being Neville, refused to go down without making a fool of himself.
When his house was announced, he jumped up so quickly that he sprinted toward the Gryffindor table with the hat still wobbling on his head, earning a wave of laughter from the hall.
Tyson couldn't help but sigh.
With such a timid personality, it was no wonder Draco thought he was an easy target for bullying.
Well, Dragon Boy's sorting was also quite noteworthy.
He swaggered forward with his signature my daddy is richer than yours walk. The hat had barely touched his head before loudly shouting,
"SLYTHERIN!"
Tyson could swear the applause that erupted from the Slytherin table was more enthusiastic than it had been for Daphne.
A couple of other sortings followed. Pansy Parkinson was sorted into Slytherin. Of the Patil twins, one went to Ravenclaw while the other was sorted into Gryffindor.
"Potter, Harry!" Professor McGonagall called out, and the entire hall suddenly fell silent.
Everyone's eyes searched for the Boy Who Lived among the crowd of first-years, Tyson's included, since they had drifted apart during the lineup earlier.
Soon, Harry stepped out from the front of the line and approached the stool.
He looked perfectly calm on the surface, but his clenched fists told Tyson he was nervous as hell.
The Sorting Hat settled onto his messy black hair and remained silent for a long time. Tyson noticed that everyone around him was holding their breath.
At last, the hat broke the silence with a triumphant shout.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The red-and-gold table exploded into cheers, louder than it had for anyone else so far. Fred and George were already on their feet, whooping.
Harry pulled the hat off with a relieved grin and jogged over to join them.
After the commotion died down, Professor McGonagall announced the next name.
"Steward, Tyson!"
He let out a deep breath before walking forward and approaching the stool.
To be honest, he was scared.
Just a tiny bit.
In his previous life, he had read countless theories about how the Sorting Hat judged a student's personality and decided their house.
The most widely accepted theory was that it simply skimmed the surface of a person's mind, drawing conclusions from their thoughts.
Others went further, suggesting it could delve deeper, sifting through a student's memories themselves.
If it was the former, Tyson wasn't worried. He didn't know Occlumency, but controlling his thoughts for a few seconds was well within his ability.
It was the latter that unsettled him.
Reincarnation.
Knowledge of the plot.
Any one of his secrets would be enough to alarm the entire wizarding world.
If the hat snitched, he might be called to the Headmaster's office for tea on his very first day at Hogwarts.
Or worse...expelled!
As he sat on the stool, Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head.
...
A/N: Leave a heart if you liked the chapter. Also, the next chapter is already up on my peepee for free. You should definitely give it a read lol. The conversation between Tyson and the Sorting Hat is absolutely hilarious. Sometimes reading my own chapters makes me wonder if I should just drop medical and become a standup comedian.
With that, the Sorting Ceremony officially comes to an end, and we're finally about to begin life at Hogwarts.
Kudos to everyone who's still stuck around. I appreciate every one of you.
P(a)treon.com/spectatur
See ya!