Belonging! Anger!

The young wizards in the Great Hall grew noisy, every eye fixed upon Aurora to the extent that no one stepped forward to help Daphne, whose legs had turned to jelly.

Grindelwald.

For Daphne, that name might as well have been a death sentence for her entire family registry.

And for all the pure-blood wizards present—and even the half-bloods—this surname was unquestionably legendary, a name that had once made the whole of Europe tremble.

Perhaps there were some who, shielded by the deliberate silence of their families, knew nothing of Voldemort, the terrifying Dark Lord, but there was surely no one who did not know of Dumbledore's arch-nemesis, Grindelwald.

After all.

In various historical texts.

And on the famous wizard cards inside Chocolate Frogs, the descriptions of Dumbledore, alongside all his many achievements and inventions, always prominently featured one supreme deed: he had once defeated the dark wizard Grindelwald.

To have such a deed recorded among Dumbledore's greatest triumphs meant that even those with the meagerest knowledge understood its immense weight. Almost every pure-blood family knew what that surname had once inflicted upon the European continent.

Perhaps.

Grindelwald’s footsteps had never touched England.

However.

It was hard to say that no pure-blood families had secretly responded to his ideals.

Even now.

In certain historical tales of the wizarding world and within various "new fables," the shadow of that surname was far from absent—the magnificent spectacle of Paris in flames could never be entirely drowned in the dust of history.

No one in Hogwarts could have imagined that the school would actually welcome a Grindelwald.

Many gazes turned toward Dumbledore.

Yet.

The Headmaster merely smiled.

"What is Dumbledore thinking?"

"Good heavens, look at her eyes! They say the Grindelwald family possesses evil eyes capable of bewitching the mind. Are we going to be enslaved by her?"

"She's so pretty, I'm willing to—"

"Snap out of it! You're a girl too!"

...

Their voices were not loud.

Even so, snatches of gossip inevitably drifted into Aurora’s ears. She seemed entirely indifferent, sitting expressionlessly upon the four-legged stool and quietly waiting for the Sorting to proceed.

"My dear, pay no mind. They mean no malice."

Professor McGonagall placed a hand gently on Aurora’s shoulder and whispered softly.

Then.

She placed the Sorting Hat upon Aurora’s head. No one knew what communication passed between the hat and Aurora; the entire Great Hall plunged into an eerie, profound silence.

Time slipped away.

A full several minutes passed.

"Slytherin!"

When the Sorting Hat shouted out Aurora’s house, after a moment of dead silence, unprecedented cheers erupted from the Slytherin long table, with upper-year students even rising to their feet to applaud and welcome her.

The descendant of the Dark Lord of the first generation?

Some might hold that view.

Yet there were others who thought differently.

Such individuals made up no small proportion within Slytherin. The students in this house did not lack intelligence; they had already deduced certain things that the other houses had not yet begun to fathom.

"Welcome to Slytherin! Your arrival is our honor!"

Some of the older wizards were the most enthusiastic.

Aurora merely nodded politely, choosing an empty seat to sit down. Faced with the warm welcome of those around her, she frowned slightly and thought of an excuse.

"Pardon me, I have autism and dislike talking."

At those words.

The expressions of many Slytherin students froze in astonishment. Though a few still attempted to strike up a conversation, the situation was ultimately much better than before.

"What am I going to do!"

While most in Slytherin were joyful, a small fraction felt uneasy. But if one spoke of the richest array of emotions, it undoubtedly belonged to Daphne Greengrass.

As it happened.

At that very moment, Professor McGonagall called out her name.

"Daphne Greengrass!"

Because the previous witch had been Aurora, fewer people paid attention to Daphne than usual. However, that was no longer something Daphne Greengrass cared about.

The haughty girl's face was as pale as paper at that moment. She had no idea how she had managed to walk up the dais, and she had completely lost the energy to complain about how filthy the Sorting Hat was.

Coming from a family where everyone was a Slytherin alumnus, she now desperately wished to be sorted into any other house. Who could have imagined that she would suddenly consider Ravenclaw a rather pleasant choice?

"Slytherin!"

Regrettably.

The Sorting Hat did not respect Daphne’s preference.

When the house's name was bellowed out, Daphne could find no joy in it whatsoever. Filled with dread, she walked toward the cheering long table and, after a moment of hesitation, finally mustered the courage to sit down beside Aurora.

"I'm sorry, I..."

Accustomed to living like a pampered princess since childhood, the fiercely proud Daphne desperately wanted to salvage her family's reputation, yet she had no idea how to mend the massive blunder she had committed.

Being merely a young child of around eleven, her mind had almost completely gone blank under the sudden panic, and even her brief, fragmented words sounded as though she were on the verge of tears.

It was precisely the honor of pure blood that made her all the more keenly aware of the terror carried by the name Grindelwald.

"Greengrass, I am not the one you should be worried about."

Aurora gestured for Daphne to sit beside her, which served to block many of the others attempting to approach. Aside from her surname, her striking appearance was also a source of trouble.

"Ah?"

Daphne sat down anxiously, confused by Aurora's warning.

"I won't become your trouble, because you've already walked into something much worse." Aurora's tone remained calm as she continued to watch the ongoing Sorting, just like everyone else.

"Peter Papacro!"

Another young wizard was called by the cat-eared professor.

His final destination was the brave and daring Gryffindor.

Immediately following.

Filled with anticipation, Ian finally heard his name called. Daphne, still bewildered by Aurora's words, cast another gaze filled with hesitant suspicion.

That surname... surely not!

"Ian Prince!"

The moment Professor McGonagall's voice faded, Ian dashed toward the Sorting Hat, snatching it off the four-legged stool without a second thought and slamming it onto his head.

His eagerness caught even Professor McGonagall off guard.

Yet she offered no reprimand.

After all, this was no rule-breaking mischief.

"Oh?"

The instant the Sorting Hat touched his head, Ian heard an exclamation of surprise.

"Is it that difficult?"

Ian took the initiative to ask.

"No, no, no. I can see it clearly. You do not lack courage and talent, nor do you lack loyalty and ambition; all four houses are, in truth, very, very suited to you. It's just that..."

The Sorting Hat's voice was soft and light.

"You possess a far rarer quality. Yes, yes, I can sense it. How familiar..."

A mere hat was actually displaying a sense of nostalgia.

"In truth, someone secretly threatened me, demanding that I sort you into Slytherin. I had originally intended to do so, too—after all, I have no desire to be tossed into a pile of first-years' dung."

The hat first revealed a little secret, then seemed to make up its mind.

"Who could have foreseen such circumstances? I must abandon my own safety... well, I must fulfill the mission entrusted to me. You belong there, and you must belong there!"

"My boy, in certain aspects, you are truly, truly like her. When she lived, she was so lonely, and now, I have finally found for the departed her the one most similar... her successor!"

The Sorting Hat's voice suddenly turned somewhat weathered.

As if it had shifted to a different tone.

The next moment.

"Ravenclaw!"

A resounding cry roared from its lips.

Welcoming cheers instantly rang out from the table of the eagle house.

Meanwhile.

"Bang!"

At the teachers' table.

A furious bat slammed his hand down and stood up.

"Someone has fainted!"

At the Slytherin long table.

A young snake whose life was fraught with misfortune witnessed the scene, reacted swiftly, rolled his eyes back, and collapsed straight backward.