Hogwarts: I'm Really a Model Wizard

After Kyle had taken his seat, Minerva walked over to the three-legged stool. The cheers in the Great Hall gradually subsided.

Professor McGonagall picked up the hat.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted. Hannah Abbott!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line and put on the hat.

After a moment's pause—

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The table on the right cheered and applauded as Hannah joined the Hufflepuffs.

The second student to be sorted, Susan Bones, was also placed in Hufflepuff, and amid applause, she quickly ran to sit beside Hannah.

The sorting continued in an orderly fashion, with Hermione and Neville both going to Gryffindor.

Draco got his wish and was sorted into Slytherin.

And Harry and Ron, unsurprisingly, also went to Gryffindor.

Kyle noticed that Dumbledore at the head table looked particularly pleased, clapping his hands and even unabashedly gesturing with the House Cup toward Harry.

"That old honeybee." Kyle pursed his lips.

He knew Dumbledore would give Harry advantages, but this blatant favoritism was a bit much.

Compared to that old man, Snape wasn't nearly as happy.

However, he wasn't looking at Harry, but squinting directly at the Sorting Hat, as if he might pull out a potion at any moment and pour it over the tattered hat.

After the last first-year was sorted into Slytherin, Snape immediately stood up, intending to help Minerva return the Sorting Hat.

But he was refused.

"Thank you, Severus, but the list of new students needs to be placed in a specific location, and you might not be able to find it." Professor McGonagall gave him a puzzled look, then rolled up the parchment and left with the Sorting Hat.

Dumbledore stood up, beaming at the students, his arms opened wide.

"Welcome!" He said with a smile, "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

As Dumbledore sat back down, the previously empty platters were suddenly filled with abundant food.

"Oh, I hate carrots..." Michael looked at the vegetable soup in front of him and said to Ryan beside him, "Can we switch seats?"

Ryan, who was gnawing on a corn cob, shrugged indifferently and stood up to change places with Michael. He wasn't picky about food; he ate everything.

"Kyle, do you know what the Headmaster meant just now?" Cedric asked, puzzled.

For some reason, he felt that Dumbledore had come across as somewhat eccentric, like an old wizard whose mind wasn't quite clear. His words were also obscure and difficult to understand.

"I'm not very sure either." Kyle thought for a moment, then said, "It probably refers to how we view the other three houses. Like the clever Ravenclaws, don't they always think everyone else is a nitwit?"

"Is that so..." Prompted by this, Cedric quickly made connections to the meanings of the other three words, nodding thoughtfully, "That makes sense."

There were many interpretations of Dumbledore's words, but no matter how reasonable they might be, they were ultimately just speculation. No one knew what he was really thinking.

The only person who might know was currently locked up in Nurmengard.

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Everyone ate with great enjoyment until finally, the last few pumpkin pasties disappeared from the golden plates.

After the delicious feast ended, Dumbledore stood up again.

"Now that we are all fed and watered, I have a few more words to say to you all. First, our familiar Professor Quirrell has voluntarily requested to fill the vacancy in Defense Against the Dark Arts. And Professor Charity Burbage will be our new Muggle Studies professor."

Two wizards, one male and one female, stood up at the head table — one timid and shrinking, the other vibrant and spirited.

Fairly enthusiastic applause erupted in the Great Hall. However, most of this applause was for Professor Charity Burbage.

As for Professor Quirrell, he was merely riding on her coattails... A one-year professor, what was there to welcome?

Near Kyle, an older student clicked his tongue and said, "Voluntarily requesting to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor... I never realized Quirrell was so brave."

After the applause, both professors sat back down.

Dumbledore continued, "First-years should note that the forest on the school grounds is forbidden to all pupils. You must remember, if anyone invites you there, even if it's your most familiar professor, please do not agree. This is very important."

As he said this, Kyle felt countless gazes suddenly turn toward him. It made him inwardly speechless.

Great, was this a public shaming?

Fortunately, Dumbledore didn't dwell on this topic and continued, "Also, Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. And do not bring magical plants from the greenhouses back to the castle, especially dangerous ones."

His twinkling eyes glanced at Kyle.

Kyle's mouth twitched, but he quickly regained his composure. Although he didn't know how Dumbledore had found out, it didn't matter. He would respect the headmaster's wishes and not touch any plants from the greenhouse this semester.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Kyle couldn't help but laugh.

The fishing bait in this statement was too obvious — it was even using a straight hook — yet surprisingly, Voldemort still fell for it.

Didn't he think about it? If Dumbledore didn't have a backup plan, would he directly tell everyone the location?

No, Voldemort was currently just a wandering soul, using Professor Quirrell's shared brain, so occasional system crashes were normal.

"He can't be serious." Michael said, his face somewhat pale.

"Unlikely." Cedric shook his head, "At least it can't be as severe as he says. If Hogwarts really had such a dangerous place, it would probably have been completely sealed off long ago."

After everyone had sung the school song, Dumbledore announced that they could return to their dormitories.

Kyle didn't move, turning his head toward the Gryffindor table. Someone had to fulfill a bet.

"Oh... damn it!"

"I thought he'd forgotten."

Fred and George sighed and, under the puzzled gazes of Harry and Ron, reluctantly popped toffees into their mouths.

"Wow…"

"Ohh~~"

Amid shocked gasps and laughter, Fred and George flailed about with tongues nearly three feet long, beginning to tap dance beside the table.

This wasn't part of the bet; they added it themselves. Because they had to constantly avoid stepping on their own tongues, Fred and George's tap dancing was quite jerky, looking extremely bizarre.

"Ooh~~"

More laughter and cheers erupted from around them.

Even Dumbledore was intrigued by their unique appearance and distinctive dance moves, watching them with interest.

Only Minerva stood there with an ashen face, her lips pressed into an almost straight line. As if dancing once last year wasn't enough, they were at it again this year?

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