Protagonists come and go.
Hannah Abbott is eternal.
Morin wasn't particularly interested in the Sorting Ceremony. Compared to that, chatting with Flitwick and trading gossip was far more appealing. At least those were stories he didn't already know.
As expected, the sorting followed the familiar pattern.
The trio went to Gryffindor. Malfoy and his followers to Slytherin. As for the rest... Morin hadn't bothered to remember. He never did.
To be honest, his greatest interest in the Sorting Hat was whether "Azkaban" was an option.
After all, most of Azkaban's residents were Hogwarts alumni. By that logic, it could be considered the school's fifth house.
Unfortunately, the Sorting Hat clearly didn't offer that choice. Or perhaps none of the students qualified.
Either way, the ceremony ended without the hat screaming "Azkaban."
Probably for the best.
If it had, that would have caused problems.
Once the sorting finished, the new students took their seats. Each house welcomed its members differently. The contrast between Slytherin and Gryffindor was especially obvious-one cold and restrained, the other loud and celebratory.
Part of that was likely Potter.
When McGonagall called Harry's name, whispers rippled through the hall. Everyone was asking the same question.
Was he really the Boy Who Lived?
Fortunately, after a month of Morin's instruction, Harry was much calmer. He understood why he was famous and no longer found it overwhelming. His demeanor was steady.
Still, he was nervous.
He didn't think Professor McGonagall would let the earlier incident slide.
Harry sat down and glanced toward the staff table. He spotted Morin, Quirrell, and a smiling Dumbledore.
That helped.
It shouldn't be too bad.
Then Albus Dumbledore stood up.
"Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," he said warmly. "Before the feast begins, I have a few words and a brief announcement."
The hall fell silent.
Harry's heart skipped.
I knew it.
"On this otherwise joyful day, something rather unpleasant occurred," Dumbledore continued, his blue eyes sweeping the room. The Great Hall was so quiet it felt unreal. "Will Mr. Harry Potter, Mr. Draco Malfoy, Mr. Gregory Goyle, and Mr. Vincent Crabbe please stand?"
Under countless stares, they stood.
Gryffindor and Slytherin.
That combination alone was enough to spark whispers.
"On the train," Dumbledore said slowly, "Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Goyle, and Mr. Crabbe verbally attacked Mr. Potter. I will not repeat the specifics. Their actions provoked Mr. Potter into responding with physical force, resulting in a broken bone for Mr. Malfoy and minor injuries for Mr. Goyle and Mr. Crabbe."
He paused.
"Neither verbal provocation nor physical violence is encouraged at this school. However, given the circumstances, I have decided that ten points will be deducted from Mr. Potter's house, and ten points from the house of each of the others."
He smiled faintly.
"Therefore-ten points from Gryffindor, and thirty points from Slytherin."
Harry blinked.
I don't even know what points are for, and I've already lost ten.
He glanced nervously at his fellow Gryffindors.
They weren't angry.
They were smiling.
Some looked impressed. The Weasley twins gave him enthusiastic thumbs-ups.
If the teachers hadn't been present, Harry was fairly certain they would have cheered.
Do points... not matter?
He looked toward the Slytherin table.
Malfoy and his friends were staring at the floor. The rest of the Slytherins were glaring at them with open displeasure.
Why was the reaction so different?
Harry was completely confused.
"I hope you have all learned your lesson," Dumbledore said calmly. "Now, before we eat, I would like to say a few words."
He cleared his throat.
"Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
"Thank you," he said, sitting down. "Let the feast begin."
Food appeared instantly.
Roast beef. Potatoes. Pies. More dishes than Harry could count. Whenever a plate emptied, it refilled itself.
"This is much better than a buffet," Morin muttered.
"A buffet?" Flitwick asked, intrigued by the unfamiliar word.
"Something like this," Morin explained. "You pay once and eat whatever you want. You can't waste food or take it home."
"I think trolls would love that!" Flitwick laughed. "I like it too."
"There's usually a time limit."
"...Never mind."
-
Harry was still dazed.
As he ate, people kept looking at him. Smiling. Talking to him. Some even leaned across others just to speak.
"Well done."
"That's what I'd expect from Harry Potter."
Finally, Harry turned to Ron.
"What's going on?" he asked. "I lost ten points for the house. Why is everyone so happy?"
"Mmm-mmm-" Ron tried to answer, mouth full of chicken.
"As long as Slytherin loses more, we're happy," another student said helpfully. "Besides, they insulted you first, and you took all three of them down alone. We'll be talking about this all year."
Harry understood.
Looking at the praise around him, he fell into thought.
Next time... hit harder?
Nearby, Morin paused mid-conversation with Flitwick, the corner of his mouth twitching.
That escalated quickly.
After the feast, Dumbledore stood again. He reminded students that the Forbidden Forest was off-limits, magic in the corridors between classes was forbidden, Quidditch trials were approaching, and that anyone who valued their life should stay away from the third-floor corridor on the right.
Then they sang the school song.
Morin didn't.
He didn't know the lyrics, and they weren't particularly good anyway.
Students headed to their common rooms. Professors returned to their offices. Many offices had private living quarters-Hogwarts was large enough for that.
Morin went back to his office.
He didn't sleep.
With his current condition, fatigue wasn't an issue. He sat at his desk, studying a sheet of parchment.
"Hm. Sixth-years tomorrow."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Good. I'll start with the most urgent case."
That night, the light in his office stayed on for a long time.
A quiet sign that Professor Morin was preparing a very special "gift" for the sixth-year students who would be facing their exams in two years.
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