novelraw Chapter 7: The Toad, the Ghost, and the Sorting Hat
Chapter 7: The Toad, the Ghost, and the Sorting Hat
Chapter Seven: The Toad, the Ghost, and the Sorting Hat
As Draco and Hermione talked, the sky outside the window gradually darkened.
"Do you know which house you'll be sorted into?" Hermione asked him.
She didn't seem to want Draco's answer immediately and continued on her own, "I've asked around everywhere, and I hope to be Sorted into Gryffindor. Everyone says it's the best—I heard Dumbledore himself was in Gryffindor. But I don't think Ravenclaw is too bad..."
In most cases, such long, dense words pointed to one reason—she was nervous and trying to use words to cover it up or alleviate it.
Draco glanced at her. Indeed, the closer the train got to Hogwarts, the more anxious she became.
Was it fear of the unknown? This was a side of Hermione Draco had never seen before.
He'd never known that the arrogant know-it-all who'd been so confident since first year would have such worries when she first started school.
"Oh, don't worry." He inexplicably began to comfort her. "I think you'll go to Gryffindor."
"Thank you for saying so." She gave him a tight smile and followed his gaze to the window. Under the deep purple sky, the shadows of mountains and forests seemed to slow their passage.
"We're almost there," Draco said with certainty, gazing at the blurry landscape outside.
"I think you should go change into your robes," Hermione said, carefully cradling the toad that was wriggling restlessly. "I need to give Trevor to Neville right away, or he'll be in tears. See you later."
Draco nodded reservedly, watching her hurried figure disappear down the corridor.
*Gryffindor... Hermione Granger, listen to what you've said!*
*Your reasons for wanting Gryffindor are far too un-Gryffindor.*
*"That's the best." "Dumbledore himself was in Gryffindor."*
How could a Gryffindor possibly say such things? Draco pursed his lips, thinking it sounded more like something a Slytherin with ambition and drive for excellence would say.
He opened his compartment door and found Crabbe and Goyle had finished eating again and were now sprawled on their seats, chubby faces beaming with satisfied smiles, burping loudly.
"Didn't anyone tell you Hogwarts has a feast? I heard it's very lavish. Can your stomachs even hold it all?" Draco was in good spirits and mischievously teased the two gluttons, unsurprisingly seeing their shocked, disappointed expressions.
"No! No one told us there was food at Hogwarts!" Crabbe cried, pounding his chest.
"Shouldn't we be sleeping at school?" Goyle blinked, looking blank.
Draco looked at their utterly dejected expressions and couldn't help shaking his head inwardly, then began putting on his school robes.
Once the train stopped completely, a massive crowd surged toward the doors and disembarked onto a small, dark platform. All first-years followed the burly Hagrid down a steep, narrow path.
The muddy path was difficult to navigate, and the first-years slipped and stumbled frequently. Every now and then, someone would slip and fall. For example, the girl walking in front of Draco was wobbling along precariously.
Hermione Granger was in a terrible state. She stumbled through the darkness, trying to keep up with Neville, when suddenly the toad in his hand jumped down and landed at her feet, nearly causing her to step on it.
"Trevor!" Neville called, turning back to look for it. He looked around and finally, to his despair, found the toad had hopped into the dark forest on either side of the path.
"No!" Neville cried out in anguish, reaching out unwillingly as he watched the toad's rebellious figure vanish into the distance.
As for Hermione, to avoid both the toad and the heartbroken, somewhat reckless Neville, she suddenly stopped moving forward. Due to inertia, she couldn't stand steadily and was about to fall headfirst into the slippery mud.
At that moment, someone behind her grabbed her collar and pulled her back to balance.
She turned around in alarm and saw a glimmer of platinum in the darkness—it was the boy she'd met in the corridor—Draco.
"Thank you." Still shaken, she whispered to him, her arrogant demeanor gone, replaced by a hint of embarrassment.
"Troublesome girl." In the pitch-black, cold air, amidst Neville's wailing over Trevor's loss, he said calmly, "Grab my sleeve."
Hermione hesitated but didn't move.
Draco was certain the little girl before him was the original Hermione Granger: her athletic ability was practically zero, and she was good at falling on flat ground. At the same time, she was too proud to accept help from anyone in public—or rather, to openly admit what she was bad at.
Unless you exploited her weakness of "not wanting to lose face" and used it to threaten her.
"Grab my sleeve," Draco repeated, adding lazily, "if you don't want to show up at the Sorting Ceremony covered in mud in front of all the Hogwarts students."
"Well—thank you." Hermione was terrified by the horrific scene he described and quickly grabbed the back of his robe sleeve, stepping behind him.
*I have to say, this is much safer now,* Hermione thought.
This boy named Draco always seemed able to find the smoother, less bumpy parts of the path in the dark, which made it easier for her than walking alone—just a little.
The boy in front was feeling rather smug.
This was a rare sight: Hermione Granger obediently tugging at his sleeve and walking behind him like a well-behaved pet—completely satisfying Draco Malfoy's remaining wicked sense of humor.
After walking for a while, amidst a series of complaints and endless panic, the first-years finally reached the end of the path.
"So beautiful..." he heard Hermione whisper behind him.
It was indeed beautiful. This was the magnificent Hogwarts Castle before it was ravaged by Death Eaters.
Towering turrets stood tall, windows sparkling with enchanted light. Tranquil, magnificent, beautiful.
Once they reached level ground, Hermione released her grip on Draco's sleeve and thanked him again in a low voice.
"My pleasure," he said briefly.
Immediately afterward, she, like the other first-years seeing this scene for the first time, rushed to the edge of the Black Lake, gazing at the vast expanse of water and the shimmering, dreamlike Hogwarts Castle on the opposite shore.
The first-years were making noise, all praising loudly.
Draco stood silently at a distance, watching all this, feeling like an outsider from another world. Returning to Hogwarts, he could no longer feel the same excitement as in his previous life—only a few vague emotions welled up from the bottom of his heart.
According to tradition, new students would cross the lake by boat, just as the four Founders had. Draco didn't rush to board a boat but instead observed quietly, wanting to see whom Potter would travel with.
Draco had to pay attention to these details. Longbottom's constantly disappearing toad served as a reminder.
He remembered that in his previous life, the toad was nowhere to be found on the train, and Longbottom had cried and sobbed the whole way, which was quite annoying. It wasn't until just before entering Hogwarts Castle that Hagrid found the toad while checking the empty boats.
In this life, he'd impulsively helped Hermione find it ahead of time. But it still ran away, and Longbottom continued to wail, as if unable to escape the fate of the "lost toad."
Just as Draco was pondering silently, just like in his previous life, Potter, Weasley, Hermione, and Longbottom boarded a boat together.
As things stood, it seemed that as long as he didn't interfere, fate wouldn't change, Draco thought.
Even if he interfered, fate seemed to adjust accordingly, trying to put everything back in its original place, like the lost toad.
He must observe whether Longbottom's toad would return on its own.
Draco randomly chose a boat and, together with Zabini, Parkinson, and Nott, rowed across the mirror-like surface of the lake, approached the cliffs, passed through the ivy curtain covering the cliff face, and arrived at the entrance on the opposite shore.
The first-years continued rowing along a dark tunnel, complaining about the dim lighting. Finally, they reached a place resembling an underground harbor and climbed onto a surface of rocks and pebbles.
"Where are we?" Hermione asked anxiously as she disembarked, wanting to know where they were.
No one answered her. The students were busy disembarking, all somewhat bewildered by the dark, damp, chilly environment.
"We've arrived at the Black Lake dock at Hogwarts," Draco whispered to her. "We still have a bit more to go."
"Oh, it's so dark and damp here," Hermione said worriedly. "I hope it's not like this in the castle. I don't like dampness."
It seemed she most likely wouldn't want to step into the Slytherin common room, Draco thought.
After waiting a while, he still didn't hear Hagrid find the toad, so he had no choice but to follow the main group up a tunnel in the rock and finally reach a flat, damp patch of grass in the shadow of the castle.
"Trevor!" Longbottom's excited voice came at that moment—he'd found the toad on the grass.
Interesting, Draco thought.
It seemed that with his intervention, things could still change subtly. Just like in his previous life, Longbottom did find the toad, but the time and place had changed.
It seemed one's fate in this life wasn't immutable and could still be "shifted" by human effort.
This was good news. The most terrifying thing would be if fate, under his influence, remained stubbornly fixed and unchanging.
That would mean no matter how hard he tried, he'd have to relive all the terrible things from his past life.
Now, everything seemed to have taken a turn for the better, Draco thought.
At this moment, a glimmer of light unexpectedly arose in the depths of his silent heart.
He couldn't let his guard down—he needed to try again and observe more closely.
The toad's matter was too insignificant. There were far more important things to influence. He had to see how much change he could make to the world, and to what extent fate could be shifted.
The Entrance Hall of Hogwarts was brightly lit. The new students waited outside the Great Hall, listening to Professor McGonagall explain the school's history, the four Houses, and the House Cup, before watching her leave.
Potter was standing not far in front of Draco. Weasley and Longbottom stood beside him. "How exactly do they Sort us into Houses?" he heard Potter ask, looking rather anxious.
"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking." That Weasley kid was exaggerating again.
Almost all the first-years were terrified by Weasley's statement.
No one dared speak actively anymore.
Draco heard Hermione muttering to herself, seemingly reciting spells she'd learned in advance. Her earnest, worried face brought a smile to his.
"Nothing to be surprised about," Draco clicked his tongue dismissively and said to her, "It's just a hat."
"A hat?" Hermione turned to look at him.
"A tattered hat that has thoughts and can talk. People call it the Sorting Hat," Draco said knowingly.
Hermione was skeptical.
Could what he said be true? She wondered if he might be lying.
How could an ordinary hat have thoughts? And even Sort people into Houses? Hermione wondered skeptically.
She couldn't question it for long. As the students, led by Professor McGonagall, walked through double doors into the magnificent Great Hall, reality quickly proved the boy right.
Hermione quickly spotted the patched, worn-out pointed wizard's hat, which looked dirty, sitting on a four-legged stool at the front. Suddenly, it split open before them, singing a song to the students. Afterward, it even bowed to each of the four House tables, which were now applauding enthusiastically.
"Susan Bones!" Professor McGonagall began reading names, holding a roll of parchment.
"You're right," Hermione said to the surprisingly calm boy. "But will it really Sort me into the right House?"
"Hufflepuff!" the Hat shouted. The people at the table to the right applauded and cheered.
"It's not simple. The four Founders poured their ideals into it, just to select the right students for their Houses." Draco tilted his head slightly and said to the girl beside him, "It Sorts students based on their talents and qualities."
"Seamus Finnigan!" At this moment, a boy with sandy hair sat on the stool for almost a full minute.
"Why is it taking him so long?" she asked, her voice tinged with worry.
"Gryffindor!" That's when the Hat made its decision.
Draco was about to answer when he heard Professor McGonagall call out, "Hermione Granger!"
"Go ahead," he said hastily. "When you put it on, try thinking of your favorite House. It will respect your choice."
Hermione practically ran to the stool and hurriedly put the Hat on her head.
"Gryffindor!" the Hat called out. Draco watched silently as she ran to the table on his left, receiving enthusiastic applause and a warm welcome.
He was lost in thought for only a moment when he heard Professor McGonagall calling his name. Just like in his previous life, that old, patched, dirty Hat called out "Slytherin!" before it even touched Draco's head.
Nothing unusual.
This brought a satisfied smile to Draco's lips, and he finally felt relieved.
The Hat, though shabby, possessed some abilities—it seemed capable of reading human thoughts. Although he'd already used Occlumency on himself, it might not be effective against it. He believed it was best to keep these memories secret.
Draco walked effortlessly toward the Slytherin table—a route he'd traversed countless times in past lives—not ignoring the voice of the red-haired git waiting in line for Sorting. He was conducting Weasley-style propaganda on Potter: "...those bad wizards all came from Slytherin."
That idiot Weasley—he hadn't provoked him this time, so why did he still sound so prejudiced?
Now look—who was discriminating against whom?
He didn't hear what Potter said to Weasley. All he knew was that when Professor McGonagall read "Harry Potter," there was considerable commotion among the Hogwarts students.
Potter, of course, went to Gryffindor, where he sat opposite Hermione.
As for Hermione, she seemed to be turning to look at him. Ever since the Hat called out "Slytherin," she'd been looking at him with a slightly surprised expression, as if she hadn't expected it.
What was she surprised about? Did she think he was going to Gryffindor? Draco glanced at her impassively. Hermione was now facing away from him, engrossed in lively conversation with a red-haired older student from Gryffindor.
Harry Potter was sitting where he could see Draco at the opposite table. He gave Draco a shy smile as a greeting.
Not bad. Potter hadn't been corrupted by Weasley to the point of glaring at all Slytherins, Draco thought calmly.
Potter quickly integrated into the Gryffindor community. The first-years ate heartily, excitedly chatting with older students from their respective Houses, trying to familiarize themselves with their new home as soon as possible.
Slytherins, on the other hand, greeted each other with a slightly more reserved and aloof manner. They were unlikely to engage in lively discussion quickly—the usual approach was to offer a polite smile, introduce themselves, then shake hands.
Living in Slytherin was like a brutal survival competition. Slytherins were used to judging each other's worth by their surnames and the strength of their handshakes, and in the future, they'd also rank themselves by comparing magical strength, estimating each other's usefulness, just like in his previous life.
Draco exchanged pleasantries with everyone, getting to know his Slytherin classmates from his past life once again. However, the moment no one was looking at him, the smile that never seemed to reach Draco's eyes vanished. He gradually turned his attention elsewhere, because sitting beside him was the Bloody Baron, a resident ghost of Slytherin.
To most Hogwarts students, the Bloody Baron was a terrifying ghost with hollow eyes, a gaunt face, and silvery bloodstains on his robes. But for Draco, it was a perfect opportunity to speak with him.
"Greetings, Baron." Draco carefully chose his words. The Bloody Baron stared blankly at him, ignoring him.
Marcus Flint, a fifth-year diagonally across from Draco, was amused by Draco's attempt. He shrugged and decided to give the clueless young Malfoy a heads-up: "Give up. He's always like this. Most of the time he's not thinking straight. Even when he is, I've never seen him pay attention to a student."
"Baron, how many consecutive House Cups has Slytherin won?" Draco smiled faintly at Flint, not giving up on engaging the Bloody Baron.
To the Slytherins' surprise, the Baron turned his withered face toward Draco, his empty eyes seemed to blink, and he said in a hoarse voice, "Six consecutive."
Flint raised an eyebrow at Draco.
Slytherin had always revered strength. This strength wasn't based on age but on various abilities.
Malfoy, a first-year, had gotten the Bloody Baron to speak right away—an unusual feat that left a deep impression on Flint.
For Draco, gaining Flint's attention ahead of time was a pleasant surprise. Flint was always arrogant and domineering, looking down on everyone. Earning the respect of the Slytherin Quidditch team captain wasn't as simple as buying him off or donating a few brooms.
Draco, seeing things were going well, stopped trying to engage the Baron. He began to focus intently on a steaming steak that had just appeared.
Draco intended to take things slowly and methodically with the Baron.
The Bloody Baron wasn't a ghost who spoke repeatedly—this one sentence alone was enough to shock everyone.
Winning over the Baron was a long process, and being reborn, Draco had no shortage of patience. Only by gradually gaining the Baron's trust could he obtain the information he wanted.
What he wanted was information about the Ravenclaw Diadem.
Since his rebirth a month ago, Draco had been pondering this, and from myriad pieces of information and memories, he'd formed a hypothesis—was the diadem Potter grabbed in the Room of Requirement the same diadem Ravenclaw had lost for many years?
If this hypothesis held true, then this mysterious diadem was something both the Dark Lord and Potter were interested in.
The importance of this diadem made it impossible for him to ignore.
Draco knew where it was, but he wasn't in a hurry to retrieve it.
Before understanding the situation, a Malfoy wouldn't act rashly or recklessly put himself in unnecessary danger. This was also a principle upheld by Slytherins.
This diadem was strange—it might be imbued with powerful, dangerous Dark magic, so it should never be touched rashly. Besides, it stayed obediently in the Room of Requirement until he was in seventh year, so Draco wasn't worried about it running off.
To figure out if his assumptions were correct and what the purpose of the diadem was, he needed to find the right person, pry open the right mouth, and obtain more information.
The Ravenclaw Diadem had been lost for a long time. He pondered and decided to start with the ghosts—which inevitably led him to the Bloody Baron and the Grey Lady.
If anyone in the world had even the slightest knowledge of Ravenclaw's long-lost Diadem, no one was more qualified to speak on the subject than Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter, Helena.
Judging from the timeline, Helena might still have been alive when the Diadem disappeared.
Draco knew the Grey Lady's real name was Helena Ravenclaw, but she just didn't like being called that.
The simplest way would be to ask the Grey Lady directly about the Diadem. However, she was very shy and avoided people, so if he couldn't offer something compelling enough, he'd have no chance of communicating with her.
*We have to take a roundabout approach. First, break down the Baron's defenses, since he has a connection with the Grey Lady,* Draco thought. *The Baron may be a man of few words, but he doesn't avoid people. There's still hope for a successful conversation.*
Draco had learned of the connection between the Baron and the Grey Lady quite by chance.
The Baron loved to haunt the Astronomy Tower. In his memory, on the horrific night Dumbledore was murdered, Draco had brushed past the Baron on the Astronomy Tower.
At that time, the Baron had been gaunt and painfully murmured a name: "Helena..."
The three tallest towers at Hogwarts were Ravenclaw Tower, the Astronomy Tower, and Gryffindor Tower. A common feature of these three towers was their expansive views.
If a Hogwarts student had ever spent time in the Astronomy Tower, they'd probably recognize that the building in sight was Ravenclaw Tower.
Ravenclaw Tower happened to be the place where the Grey Lady most liked to stay.
Over the years at Hogwarts, few had mentioned the cause of death of the Bloody Baron and the Grey Lady, or why they'd become ghosts of Hogwarts.
However, Draco knew that only wizards whose obsessions remained would become ghosts of Hogwarts. For centuries, very few wizards had chosen to exist as ghosts, precisely because they couldn't find true peace in this form but instead were plunged into immense suffering.
It was less a form of living and more a form of confinement. As Draco followed the well-fed students back to the Slytherin common room in the dungeons, he continued pondering—they must have a story to tell.
What exactly had happened between them?
These two enigmatic ghosts were both incredibly reserved, neither willing to speak, which left the Hogwarts students with only a vague understanding of their story. No one had ever bothered to learn about them in detail.
But Draco could make some guesses: for a long time, the Bloody Baron had been looking at the Grey Lady—Helena Ravenclaw—from the Astronomy Tower with a pained expression that was either deep-seated hatred or profound love.
Or perhaps it was a combination of both?
Was the blood on the Baron his own, or someone else's?
The bottom of the Black Lake was completely silent, and the famous Giant Squid swayed and fell into a deep sleep.
On his four-poster bed in his Slytherin dormitory, amidst the soft lapping of waves against the window, Draco gazed at the silver-green lamps hanging from the ceiling, drowsily speculating about the relationship between the Bloody Baron, Helena Ravenclaw, and the Ravenclaw Diadem, until he drifted off to sleep.