Chapter 11 Teacher and student entangled by fate.

"Bam! Bam! Bam!"

Three loud knocks echoed from the castle's doors, followed by Professor McGonagall leading a group of first-year students inside.

Facing the students with their backs to the professors, they stood between the staff table and the student long tables. Professor McGonagall gently placed a four-legged stool in front of the new students and placed a worn-out wizard's hat on the stool.

As the new students looked on with curiosity, the hat twitched and a wide seam opened at the brim, resembling a mouth, and suddenly began to sing:

"You may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me."

...

"This is the Sorting Hat. It can read the minds of young wizards, identify their qualities, and then assign them to one of the four houses," Professor Flitwick explained to avoid any confusion for Professor Flitwick.

"Quite amusing, but at Durmstrang, anything that can peer into minds and have thoughts of its own is generally considered...,"

Professor Tewell paused to find the right word,

"Unusual."

Professor Flitwick chuckled at this statement. "We can't let the Sorting Hat hear that," he said with a smile.

"It's said to have been worn by Godric Gryffindor himself, but since it spends most of its time in the headmaster's office, it gets bored and spends its time thinking about the songs it will sing at the start of the school year."

"As for how it gained the ability to think, well, that's a question best left to the four founders."

With the singing concluded, amidst the enthusiastic applause, the Sorting Hat bowed to each of the four tables before assuming its role as a regular hat, motionless, awaiting the arrival of the young wizards.

Professor McGonagall timely arrived at the Sorting Hat's position with a scroll of parchment in hand.

"I'll call out a name, and whoever's name I call will come forward, put on the hat, sit on the stool, and await their sorting!" she exclaimed loudly, then proceeded to read the first name on the parchment.

"Hannah Abbott!"

A girl with two golden braids stumbled out of the line. Though Tewell didn't know the girl, he recognized the surname Abbott—it was a pure-blood family name.

After a moment, the Sorting Hat gave its verdict.

"Hufflepuff!"

A wave of enthusiastic applause erupted from the Gryffindor table, the largest in the hall. Some young wizards even stood up to shake Abbott's hand. The sorting ceremony wasn't disrupted by the cheers; rather, the cheers were part of the ceremony.

Tewell watched the sorting ceremony unfold among the young wizards, feeling like a tourist witnessing a spectacle in the magical world. Especially when a round-faced young wizard, upon hearing "Gryffindor" from the Sorting Hat, ran off without even taking off the hat, only to return amidst laughter to return it.

As the sorting continued, waves of applause echoed through the hall until a particular name was called.

"Harry Potter!"

The entire hall fell silent as Harry emerged from the small crowd. Almost everyone in the hall turned their gaze to the slender figure.

The four tables buzzed with whispers in unison.

"Potter, is he the one?"

"Did you see the scar on his forehead?"

"Which house do you think he'll be in?"

Tewell, who knew the answer, watched Dumbledore with keen interest.

When Harry's name was called, the elderly man's expression changed slightly, and he leaned forward slightly. Obviously, he attached great importance to this special sorting.

The sorting ceremony lasted longer than the previous ones, with everyone unaware of the conversation between Harry and the Sorting Hat. It seemed to go on for quite some time, perhaps half an hour, before the Sorting Hat finally spoke.

"Gryffindor!"

Harry, wearing the hat, finally breathed a sigh of relief. His legs trembled slightly as he stood up, his mind blank, but he remembered to return the hat.

"I suppose you know this name, but I didn't expect Potter to end up in Gryffindor," Professor Flitwick said somewhat discontentedly.

"Regardless of the house, he'll be your student, won't he?" Tewell responded with a smile.

With the sorting ceremony concluded, Dumbledore left everyone with a "Silly! Crybaby! Dolt! Twit!" before the first feast of the school year began.

Before Tewell could analyze, he was pleasantly surprised to find the empty plates before him suddenly filled with delicious food.

"This is the food magic left by Helga Hufflepuff. It's not conjuring food out of thin air, but accurately transporting it from the kitchen to the table," the thoughtful Professor Flitwick answered Tewell's confusion.

Tewell was indeed unfamiliar with this type of magic. Food magic? Could it enhance one's abilities? But Hogwarts' mysteries were on full display that day before Tewell.

Unlike watching a movie, experiencing the myriad of magic as a skilled wizard allowed one to truly appreciate its intricacies.

The food at the feast was prepared by house-elves, including British classics like fish and chips, but also delicious dishes like roast beef and roast chicken. It was much better than expected.

The food at Durmstrang was far from exquisite, mostly consisting of hearty or pickled dishes. Upon arriving at Hogwarts, Tewell even prepared himself to eat fish and potatoes for an entire year. No wonder Hogwarts was more renowned than Durmstrang; its food alone was more internationally popular.

After the main course came dessert, Tewell's favorite. In his past life, he had always enjoyed sweets, and coming to this world hadn't changed that habit. He eagerly tried every flavor of ice cream, every slice of pie, and every serving of pudding. Indeed, as long as desserts weren't overly sweet, there was no such thing as a bad one.

Finishing the last spoonful of lemon pudding happily, Tewell keenly felt someone's gaze on him. Following the gaze, he saw Harry's eyes staring straight at him, then Harry grimaced, clutching the scar on his forehead. Tewell picked up his wine glass, using the action to disguise his glance, but his eyes glanced at Professor Kirov beside him.

Was it because of the influence of Voldemort's soul? It seemed their connection ran deeper than he had imagined. The soul was truly a profound subject.

Tewell pondered briefly. However, this time, Harry was looking directly at him, not at Professor Kirov or Snape, but at Tewell himself. Raising his wine glass, Tewell smiled and met Harry's curious gaze. It turned out Harry had learned about his professor's identity. But to develop prejudice against Snape so quickly truly reflected the intertwined fate of this teacher and student.