Professor Vampire.

Chapter 9: Sorting ceremony

Professor McGonagall led the new students to the front of the Great Hall, positioning them in front of all the older students lined up in a row, with the professors standing behind them.

The older students curiously examined the faces of the new arrivals, speculating about which House they might be sorted into.

Of course, more attention was focused on trying to spot the famous savior, Harry Potter.

Amid the gazes of the older students and professors, Professor McGonagall gently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first-year students and set an old, tattered hat on top of it.

The hat was patched up, worn, and extremely dirty.

The Great Hall fell silent as everyone stared at the hat.

Dracula also focused on the hat, his eyes showing a hint of nostalgia and even more interest.

Then, the hat began to move, splitting open like a wide mouth.

It then sang in a rather unpleasant voice—

"You may think I'm not very pretty, but don't judge me by appearances, if you can find..."

In the midst of its song, the hat even turned its body around, using its two folds as eyes to examine the new witches and wizards.

"I am the Sorting Hat of Hogwarts, far superior to your hats..."

Just as the Sorting Hat was scrutinizing the young faces, it happened to catch sight of a figure sitting at the professors' table.

"Try it on, I'll tell you where you should—ahhhh—oh my god—"

At the scream, a dark flame quietly erupted in Dracula's hand.

The Sorting Hat's song and the scream abruptly stopped.

In theory, the usual procedure was for the Sorting Hat to finish a rather off-key song, followed by thunderous applause from the audience, then bow to the four House tables in turn to officially begin the Sorting Ceremony.

However, this time, the hat stopped singing midway with a strange cry.

The first-year students were bewildered, the older students were at a loss, and even the professors were confused about what had gone wrong with the Sorting Hat this year.

Only Dumbledore shot a subtle glance at Dracula, showing a look of understanding.

"What's wrong with you, Sorting Hat?" Professor McGonagall frowned and stood up to ask.

The Sorting Hat was about to speak but saw the figure that had frightened it standing up along with Professor McGonagall.

"Keep singing, it sounded good," Dracula said with a smile, addressing the shabby hat.

"I... I forgot the words," the Sorting Hat said, trembling.

"Well, just make up a new song. We need to continue the Sorting Ceremony, don't we?" Dracula said with an enigmatic smile.

"Professor Dracula?" Professor McGonagall looked at him in confusion.

The Sorting Hat noticed the dark, chilling flames dancing at Dracula's fingertips.

"I'm fine, let's proceed as Professor Dracula said," it gulped, if hats could gulp.

The Sorting Hat then turned to face the long tables of older students, sighing with relief when it no longer saw the vampire's figure.

It nervously cleared its throat and began to sing—

"You may admire Gryffindor,

For its courage, spirit, and boldness;

You may respect Hufflepuff,

For its perseverance, resilience, and resolve;

You may revere Ravenclaw,

For its wisdom and scholarly insight;

You may fear Slytherin,

For its ambition, ruthlessness, and cunning."

The Sorting Hat sang its impromptu song, praising the qualities and unique traits of the four founders, and then suddenly shifted direction:

"But young wizards,

You should also honor their dear friend,

He's knowledgeable and talented,

Wild and free-spirited,

Unbeatable, handsome and charming,

He..."

Dracula listened to the Sorting Hat's improvised lyrics, feeling a twitch in his eye.

While the earlier words were somewhat relevant to him, the latter parts were overly flattering, as if the hat was using every positive adjective it had learned over a thousand years!

"Ahem!" Dracula cleared his throat loudly.

The Sorting Hat shivered and quickly wrapped up its lengthy praise:

"If you don't know him,

Just remember,

The founders' dear friend is always with you!"

The Sorting Hat finally finished its song, and the Great Hall erupted in applause. Both the new students and the professors whispered among themselves, discussing who this almost perfect friend of the founders might be.

The shabby hat took a quick glance at Dracula and, seeing that he had not summoned the dark flames again, cautiously bowed to each of the four House tables and then fell completely silent.

Despite the hiccup in the Sorting Hat's song, the ceremony proceeded smoothly, and the next segment could begin.

Professor McGonagall, who had been standing for a while, finally relaxed and took a step forward with a parchment in hand.

"I will call out names, and when I do, please put on the hat, sit on the stool, and wait for your House assignment," she said. "Hannah Abbott!"

...

Once the Sorting Ceremony was back on track, it proceeded without further issues.

The most notable event was undoubtedly the sorting of the boy who survived, Harry Potter. The Sorting Hat hesitated for a long time before finally making its decision.

"Gryffindor!"

As the Sorting Hat's voice rang out, the Gryffindor table erupted in cheers and excitement. The Weasley twins, forgetting to contain themselves, once again jumped and shouted in the Great Hall.

This time, no one scolded them because both Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, the Head of Gryffindor House, were internally delighted despite their outward restraint.

Amid the cheers of Gryffindor and the sighs of the other three Houses, the Sorting Ceremony concluded on a fairly satisfactory note.

Next came the long-awaited event—the Start-of-Term Feast!

Albus Dumbledore stood up.

He looked at the students with a broad smile, extending his arms as if nothing made him happier than seeing the students gathered together.

"Welcome!" he said, "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin the feast, I'd like to say a few words: Fool! Crybaby! Scum! Twister!"

"Thank you all!"

Having waited with empty stomachs, everyone eagerly began to feast after Dumbledore's brief speech.

Only Dracula glanced disdainfully at the plate of spicy hot pot in front of him, tapped the edge of the plate with his spoon, and exchanged it for a bowl of Polish duck blood soup, which he then tasted with satisfaction.