Chapter 132: How Could a Mudblood Possibly Get Into Slytherin

During the Sorting Ceremony, Shiwen successfully experienced what the upperclassmen, who had arrived early in the Great Hall, must have felt when they were new students the previous year.

He now strongly suspected that the journey for first-years—walking along the dirt path to take the boats and then climbing up from the boathouse to the entrance courtyard—was not merely for the sake of retracing the founders' footsteps. This route consumed a considerable amount of time, just enough for the upperclassmen to stroll leisurely from the castle’s main entrance to the Great Hall and find their seats.

By the time Professor Merrythought went to greet the new students, the upperclassmen already in the Hall had long since tidied their robes and expressions, prepared to present the most polished and brilliant side of Hogwarts to the newcomers.

While Shiwen the young wizard sat primly at the Slytherin table, the ghost of Shiwen was being coaxed by a group of mischievous specters into scaring the incoming students.

Eggled on by them, the ghost of Shiwen felt his own interest piqued. Under the gaze of Helena, who looked at him as if he were a fool, he followed the procession of ghosts as they drifted from the ghost chamber toward the Great Hall.

"As far as I know, for the past five hundred years, Hogwarts students about to be sorted have been kept in that small room outside the Great Hall," the Fat Friar said, leading the way for Shiwen while explaining the Hogwarts tradition of startling the newcomers.

"Believe me, we scare them for their own good," Sir Nicholas said solemnly to Shiwen.

Shiwen raised his eyebrows at Nicholas, looking unconvinced.

"You don't understand!" Nicholas said, looking at him with the air of someone who thought him too young, and added with satisfaction, "Giving them all a shock at the same time while they are gathered together lets them know that we ghosts exist at Hogwarts."

"That way, when they run into us while wandering the castle with their friends, they won't be so surprised and make a fool of themselves in front of their peers. If that isn't for their own good, what is?"

"That somehow sounds almost reasonable..."

After listening to Nicholas, Shiwen felt something was wrong, though he couldn't quite put his finger on what. Fortunately, the Fat Friar interrupted their conversation.

"We are almost there," he said.

Because they could ignore the constraints of the terrain, it took Shiwen and the other ghosts only a short time to reach the vicinity of the Great Hall. The Fat Friar, Nicholas, and the others tacitly circled around to the side of the room where the first-years were waiting, organizing the ghosts into a formation.

"Wait, is it really necessary for us to line up like this?" Shiwen asked, his mouth twitching as he watched Nicholas arranging the ghosts.

"This is an annual grand event! Even if we are ghosts, we still need a sense of ceremony!" Nicholas exclaimed in a dramatic voice. "Besides, drifting into the room from the side wall in formation is neither as mundane as entering from the front, nor as easily overlooked as coming from behind. It is just perfect!"

"Strange, this is the wisdom passed down over hundreds of years; you still have much to learn!" An old ghost standing next to Shiwen stroked his goatee, speaking with earnest gravity, much like a senior offering guidance to a junior.

Shiwen resignedly nodded, allowing Nicholas to assign him a relatively hidden position.

"Your appearance is a bit too pleasant; you won't scare anyone, so I've placed you further back in the line," was how Nicholas explained his placement.

Before entering the room, the Fat Friar did not forget to remind Shiwen: "Remember, we aren't doing this on purpose to scare them; we just happened to be passing by, understand?"

Shiwen twitched his lips and nodded.

Finally, with all instructions given, the ghosts surged into the room where the young wizards were gathered. Hearing the screams of the first-years, the ghosts who had "just happened to pass by" could not help but secretly curl the corners of their mouths into smiles.

Inside the room, Shiwen first spotted Lestrange, with his distinctively rugged appearance, who was originally holding court among a group of well-dressed young wizards, boasting about his family's power and his own confident, courageous spirit. However, upon seeing the ghosts, his scream was the loudest of all.

Besides him, Shiwen also saw the talented and handsome young wizard, Tom Riddle.

Shiwen had initially thought that given Riddle's personality, he might be ostracized by the other students, much like Moody's roommates had done to Moody. But Shiwen was wrong. Not only was Riddle not isolated, but he was also mingling effortlessly with the other students, occasionally drawing knowing laughs from the surrounding newcomers.

His handsome features, elegant speech, and outstanding temperament were all magnets for the other, less worldly students. Or rather, even those who were worldly would be attracted to him and develop a favorable impression. It could be said that apart from the pure-blood circle where Lestrange sat, Riddle was chatting happily with all the other first-years.

When Riddle saw the "passing" ghosts, he did not scream or show fear like the others. He only paused slightly, then raised his eyebrows, revealing a look of genuine interest.

Shiwen nodded slightly, privately marveling at Riddle's courage, before following the "passing" ghosts as they departed the room where the students were waiting to be sorted.

...

Thousands of burning candles floated above the Great Hall, illuminating it brightly. Through the transparent ceiling, one could see the beautiful night sky, where the stars and candles shimmered in tandem, enchantingly.

Professor Merrythought, just as she had the previous year, led the new students to the platform at the front of the Hall, having them stand facing the upperclassmen below. Then, she picked up a pointed wizard's hat from the end of the professors' table and placed it on a four-legged stool in front of the hall.

The Sorting Hat was as ragged and dirty as it had been the year before, though the song it sang was different.

Of course, nobody really cared what it sang, which was also no different from the previous year...

After the Sorting Hat finished its song, Professor Merrythought brought out a piece of parchment and read the first student's name:

"Pablo Avery!"

"Slytherin!"

...

Shiwen listened listlessly as name after name was called by Professor Merrythought, watching as each young wizard was assigned to their respective house. During this time, Lestrange was also sorted into Slytherin, taking a seat near Shiwen.

"Tom Riddle!"

At that moment, the next name called by Professor Merrythought caught Shiwen's attention.

Besides Shiwen, Lestrange also glared toward the front of the Hall, muttering, "I want to see which house this Mudblood gets sorted into."

At the front of the Hall, the handsome, dark-haired young wizard remained elegant as he sat on the stool. But from his tightly clenched hands, one could vaguely tell that he, too, was feeling somewhat nervous.

The Sorting Hat seemed to hesitate for a few seconds, and then shouted out:

"Slytherin!"

Hearing the Sorting Hat's decision, Shiwen was taken aback.

At the same time, a loud, rough voice rang out from the Slytherin table—

"That's impossible! How could a Mudblood like him be sorted into Slytherin?!"