Vigilance could not be relaxed.
A flicker of malice passed by, as fleeting as a jest.
If not for Harry Potter's extraordinary charisma and intellect, his perception honed to an almost unbelievable degree, he would never have noticed the sinister intent lurking beneath Professor McGonagall's poker face.
Was there truly something amiss with the Sorting Ceremony?
Professor McGonagall continued, "The four houses are named Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own storied history and has produced outstanding witches and wizards. During your time at Hogwarts, your achievements will earn points for your house."
Harry was familiar with the four houses, named after their founders. He also knew how they were divided: Gryffindor valued bravery, Slytherin ambition, Ravenclaw intellect, and Hufflepuff… well, the rest.
But in all the common records, the Sorting was glossed over or described as a routine ceremony, so Harry hadn't paid it much mind. Now, in hindsight, it dawned on him—how could they possibly discern someone's character? Did they possess the same staggering wisdom as he did?
Perhaps it was some sort of battle royale, with Hufflepuff as the dumping ground for those eliminated, while those who displayed specific qualities or achieved certain feats were sorted into the other three houses. It was even possible that, given Hogwarts' relative safety, they arranged dangerous tasks for students—after all, most injuries could be easily healed by wizarding means.
This kind of elimination game was not unfamiliar to Harry. In the world of A Song of Ice and Fire, he had encountered doomsday cults that operated similarly, some even worshipping four distinct deities and categorizing their sacrificial offerings accordingly. Those gods, too, bore lofty names like the God of Courage, Wisdom, Joy, or Life.
Even the Red God, fond of blood sacrifices and whose followers burned themselves alive, was grandly titled the Lord of Light.
Could Hogwarts' houses be something similar?
"In a few minutes, the Sorting Ceremony will take place in front of the entire school," Professor McGonagall said. "I suggest you use this time to tidy yourselves up and look sharp."
She added, "I'll return to fetch you when everything is ready. While you wait, please keep quiet."
With that, she left the room. Harry turned to Ron. "The books I read didn't mention the Sorting Ceremony, and I didn't think to ask anyone about it. You've got all those older brothers—do you know what the ceremony involves?"
"I think it's some kind of test," Ron replied. "Fred said it hurts a lot, but I reckon he was joking."
Nearby, Neville mumbled that he was certain to end up in Hufflepuff, while Hermione was muttering to herself, rapidly reciting spells she'd memorized, unsure which one might be needed.
Harry, confident in his ability to single-handedly overpower all the first-years if necessary, was curious but not nervous. Of course, he'd never be so cruel as to harm children—it was merely a hypothetical.
At that moment, a few students behind him let out high-pitched screams.
"Has the test already started?" Harry wondered, drawing his wand, ready to unleash havoc if needed.
Turning around, he saw the source of the commotion: about twenty pearly-white, translucent ghosts had suddenly emerged from the wall, gliding across the room while whispering to one another.
It was Harry's first time seeing such distinct, sentient ghosts, each radiating a faint magical aura. Though his instincts told him they were weak—perhaps possessing only a sliver of magic—he remained cautious.
Recalling Professor McGonagall's instruction to wait for the test, and now faced with these ghosts, it clicked. This was a surprise trial. The ghosts were the test.
Perhaps the creatures used in the Sorting varied each year, which explained why it was never documented. In previous years, it might have been other magical beasts, but this time, the challenge was to test the young witches and wizards' courage or wit when facing ghosts.
A clever idea, Harry thought. True character only revealed itself in the face of danger.
He felt he had unraveled the mystery entirely, his intellect surpassing that of the other young witches and wizards. Truly, his wisdom, forged across three worlds, was unmatched.
The problem was, the basic spells he'd learned didn't include any that could harm ghosts. Perhaps only advanced magic could manage that. Harry decided to rely on his charisma and divine power to enhance a Petrification Charm. These ghosts, likely used for training, didn't seem malevolent, so he'd spare them for now.
A plump, monk-like ghost spoke up. "We should forgive, we should forget. I say we give Peeves another chance—"
"Petrificus Totalus!" Harry incanted.
The fat monk turned black instantly.
"Brilliant," Harry muttered. "With charisma, I can twist them into something that can be petrified. It's even easier than changing the color of that wretched rat."
The other ghosts froze in shock as the fat monk emitted dark mist, as if he'd "died" again. Panic ensued, and they scattered, while the students began to lose their composure as well.
"What are those things?"
"Are those the new students for the Sorting?"
"Who cast Avada Kedavra?"
"I'm remembering how I died!"
"It's not the Killing Curse—it can't kill us. It's a Petrification Charm!"
"Merlin's beard! That was a Petrification Charm?"
Harry smirked to himself. "As expected, this is just a test for kids. They're even weaker than I thought."
"Petrificus Totalus!" "Petrificus Totalus!" "Petrificus Totalus!"
After a few precise casts, the remaining ghosts fled through the walls toward the Great Hall, likely to report to Dumbledore.
Hmph, Harry thought, with a performance this stunning, they'll all be shouting 'terrifyingly impressive' in no time.
The ghosts that hadn't escaped were frozen in place, blackened like the fat monk. Among them was a new arrival—a wide-faced, loud-mouthed ghost with bulging eyes, clearly different from the others. The other ghosts had called him "Peeves." He was the only one showing clear aggression toward the students, capable of shifting between tangible and intangible forms. He'd instinctively started hurling vases at the first-years but was now petrified in place.
So, most of the ghosts were just there to scare, with one dangerous Peeves mixed in—a fitting challenge for new students.
Unfortunately, Harry's brilliance had outshone everyone else, leaving no chance for others to prove themselves. Perhaps they'd get another test after he left.
"Don't be afraid, everyone. Stay calm," Harry said, exuding charisma to soothe the rattled students.
The students instinctively gravitated toward him, his presence making them feel safer.
Muggle-born witches and wizards, terrified of ghosts, naturally warmed to Harry. Those from wizarding families, however, wore strange expressions. They weren't afraid of ghosts—they were afraid of Harry. The thought of being sorted into a rival house and becoming his enemy was terrifying.
As expected of the legendary Harry Potter. Only the most fearsome dark wizards could harm ghosts that were already dead, and he'd done it with ease.
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