Inside the Great Hall of Hogwarts, countless candles floated in mid-air, pouring down warm light.
The enchanted ceiling mirrored the true night sky outside, where distant stars were faintly visible.
Students from each house sat at their respective long tables, chatting noisily while silver utensils shimmered under the candlelight.
Of course, many curious gazes frequently drifted toward the staff table.
The newly appointed Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had already become the secret focus of the entire room.
At the staff table.
Victor Wick had long since changed into a crisp set of dark green wizard robes.
He was currently seated beside Professor Flitwick, the two of them engaged in a lively conversation.
His novel and peculiar magical theories had Professor Flitwick buzzing with excitement.
Dumbledore sat regally in the center, a benevolent smile on his face as he watched the vibrant students below.
Snape was wrapped in his usual pitch-black robes, sitting gloomily in a corner, surrounded by a palpable chill.
Professor McGonagall, wearing a deep green gown, stood before the staff table rolling up a long parchment list of freshmen. By her feet sat a stool, and atop the stool rested a tattered, patched-up wizard's hat...
Professor Quirrell sat constrained in another corner, occasionally casting furtive glances at Dumbledore, his massive purple turban exceptionally conspicuous.
Professor Babbling, seated next to him, frowned slightly at the pungent smell of garlic emanating from him and quietly shifted her seat away.
"So you're saying this hat has been responsible for the sorting for over a thousand years?" Victor Wick looked at the ragged wizard's hat with great interest.
"Indeed. Godric Gryffindor enchanted it, and the four founders together imbued it with their respective standards for choosing students," Professor Flitwick nodded with a smile.
"A marvelous concept... If I get the chance, I'd like to analyze its magical structure and study its rune sequences," Victor said with a slight smile.
"Haha, you'll have to get Albus's permission first... and the permission of that old hat itself."
"Oh? So it has developed its own consciousness? That's quite fascinating." Victor stared at the Sorting Hat with burning eyes.
While talking with Professor Flitwick, he suddenly felt a gaze that made his spine tingle with cold.
Victor turned his head slightly and happened to meet Professor Quirrell's direct, unblinking stare.
He calmly nodded in greeting, but Quirrell looked as if he had been caught red-handed. Clearly startled, he returned the gesture with a panicked and awkward bow.
'If his acting is not up to snuff, I suppose playing the bumbling fool is his only choice? A clever enough strategy.'
Victor understood perfectly.
Based on his years of experience as an undercover agent, this professor's cowardice and panic were entirely manufactured.
In the split second their eyes met, the gaze Quirrell hadn't had time to hide was anything but submissive.
And that look... it was all wrong. This fellow likely wouldn't be staying in line tonight!
After a moment's thought, Victor quietly cast a Felix Felicis Charm on himself...
Instantly, his thoughts became incredibly clear, and his state of mind grew even more calm and steady.
He looked up at Dumbledore and caught a glimpse of the Headmaster looking back.
Victor lightly tapped his fingertips on the table's edge twice, signaling that he had noticed something.
The corner of Dumbledore's mouth curved upward in an almost imperceptible arc before he nonchalantly turned to chat with Professor Sprout.
Victor turned his gaze toward Snape, only to find the man's eyes fixed firmly on the entrance to the Great Hall.
Click!
The Hall doors were opened by Professor McGonagall, and the freshmen filed in...
Snape's gaze landed with precision on Harry, who was currently taking in the Hall with a face full of wonder.
The moment he saw that face, Snape's expression darkened even further!
Snape stared intensely into Harry's eyes, as if trying to bore a hole through them.
Suddenly, a heavy scent of garlic wafted over. Professor Quirrell had approached at some point and stood before Snape, blocking his line of sight.
"Severus... I'm not feeling very well. That potion I asked you to brew... is it ready?" Quirrell sounded somewhat frightened when speaking to Snape.
Snape gave him an impatient glance. "Pick it up from my office after the feast."
"Oh... good, good, thank heavens! You know, what happened to me in the Albanian forest... without your potion, I wouldn't last a day..."
Just then, Harry felt a sharp pain in his head, nearly causing him to stumble!
"Harry! What's wrong?" Ron asked, quickly supporting him with concern.
Professor McGonagall noticed Harry's abnormality and walked over quickly. "Potter, are you all right?"
"Oh... it's... it's nothing. My head just hurt for a second."
For some reason, the moment Professor McGonagall stood in front of him, the pain in his head vanished.
"No need to be so nervous, Mr. Potter. Many new students feel unwell due to excitement," Professor McGonagall said gently.
Suddenly, a sneer came from nearby.
A boy with slicked-back hair and a sickly pale complexion spoke with a cold laugh. "Don't go fainting here, Potter! Hogwarts doesn't have time to wait on weaklings like you."
The two stout, thickset boys beside him immediately began to snicker.
"Mr. Malfoy!" Professor McGonagall's stern gaze swept over him immediately. "Mocking a classmate is shameful behavior!"
Malfoy shut his mouth resentfully, but his eyes were still filled with blatant provocation as he looked at Harry.
Harry rubbed his forehead. Once the dizziness passed, he looked up at Malfoy.
"At least I can stand on my own, unlike some people who have to bully others just to feel important."
He paused and added coolly, "I suppose it's understandable. After all, besides your family name and a big mouth, you don't seem to have much else going for you."
The smile on Malfoy's face froze instantly, his complexion turning several shades of red and white.
Victor didn't pay much attention to this minor episode.
Guided by the faint intuition of the Felix Felicis Charm, his peripheral vision remained subtly locked on Professor Quirrell.
Snape's expression had been terrifyingly dark just moments ago; anyone could see he was in a foul mood.
Even Dumbledore wouldn't bother him at a time like this unless it was an absolute emergency.
But Quirrell...
This man, who was trembling just to look at Snape, chose this exact moment to approach and ask about a potion, despite the oppressive anger hanging in the air.
Couldn't he wait until the feast ended? Or ask before it began?
Under the subtle promptings of the Felix Felicis Charm, the more Victor looked, the more he felt Quirrell's action was inexplicably strange.
Recalling that Voldemort might be attached to Quirrell right now, Victor's heart tightened.
Not long after, Quirrell returned to his seat, looking as if he had truly just asked a casual question about the potion with no further intent.
Victor's gaze swept over the spot where Quirrell had just been standing. Everything looked normal.
But in the next moment, his gaze suddenly froze, landing on an upperclassman at the Slytherin table.
That student's expression was slightly off, and in Victor's vision, a faint, flickering sequence of dark green runes was coiled around the student's head.
'Did he cast a spell during those few seconds when the table blocked my line of sight? What exactly is he trying to do?'
Victor's eyes narrowed, his fingers unconsciously tightening. His heart grew heavy with gravity.
No one had noticed that tonight's seemingly ordinary Sorting Ceremony was quietly becoming fraught with hidden undercurrents.
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