The mastermind behind Hogwarts

Even as Harry Potter sat at the end of the Slytherin table, he still doubted the reality of it all.

He feared that everything that had happened was a dream, and that when he woke up he would still be that poor boy huddled in the Dursleys' storage room.

Harry looked at Marcus, hoping for some words of encouragement or comfort, but seeing Marcus's listless appearance, he gave up on the idea.

Harry stole a glance at Moriarty at the head of the long table. He was still as elegant and cool as ever, and he was arguing heatedly with the people around him.

"Malfoy has been sorted into Gryffindor! By Merlin, the Sorting Hat must have had a lot to drink today—Moriarty, I seriously suspect you fed the Sorting Hat a whole glass of butterbeer."

Harry heard the blonde girl next to Moriarty say that.

Moriarty, unusually, frowned, his gaze fixed on Draco Malfoy, then glancing at Dumbledore.

His eyes seemed to ask, "Draco, were you sorted into Gryffindor?"

Dumbledore shook his head slightly at Moriarty, indicating that he had not done anything wrong.

Moriarty trusted Dumbledore, and at this point, the old man had no reason to resort to underhanded tactics.

So Draco being assigned to Gryphon means he truly possesses a certain kind of courage.

This result must be hard for Draco to accept, right?

Moriarty noticed that Draco was at the far end of the Gryffindor table, keeping a fairly noticeable distance from the freshmen next to him.

He sat there listlessly, even his usually straight back had become hunched.

He probably didn't expect to be sorted into Gryffindor.

Moriarty shook his head; Narcissa was probably going to cause trouble next.

Jericho whispered, "Sir, they're all talking about the Malfoy descendants going to Gryffindor."

This goes without saying Jericho; almost all the senior students discussed this matter.

Neville and Harry followed closely behind—their parents were both Gryffindors, but they were both sorted into Slytherin.

In addition, there's Ron Weasley, who was sent to the school clinic before he even had a chance to participate in the sorting process.

The senior students exclaimed: This year's freshmen are really restless.

Harry noticed this too, and he couldn't help but ask Neville, who was beside him, why this was happening.

Neville replied with a wry smile, "This is probably just the inevitable path for a good wizard to grow."

Harry didn't understand, but he remembered something: "I saw you getting along well with Marcus and the others on the train. Did you know each other before?"

"Yes," Neville nodded, "I'd say I'm Mr. Moriarty's apprentice, while Senior Marcus is his follower—everyone knows that."

"That's how it is..."

Harry had thought he was the first freshman to meet Moriarty and Marcus, but now that he found his classmates seemed to be closer to them, he felt a little disappointed.

"Do you know—that boy everyone's talking about?"

Harry wanted to point at Draco, but then felt it would be impolite, so he asked Neville in a different way, hoping that Neville would understand.

To Harry's relief, Neville readily replied, "Oh, you mean Draco Malfoy? Yes, I know him, of course I do. In fact, many students here know him."

"Why? Is he famous?"

"Hmm...it depends on who you're comparing me to. You're quite famous, Potter," Neville said earnestly, looking at Harry.

"Me?" Harry asked, pointing to himself. He chuckled. "I've lived with my aunt since I was little. A week ago, Mr. Moriarty and Senior Marcus told me I was a wizard, and then I received a letter from Hogwarts, which allowed me to come here. Am I famous?"

Neville couldn't explain anything, so he could only say, "Yes, Potter, you're famous—at least compared to Draco Malfoy."

Harry was about to say something when he heard a shrill voice beside him.

"Longbottom, are you talking to Potts about Draco?"

Harry turned his head and saw a little girl with black hair and a mushroom-shaped head staring at him with displeasure.

Because of his heavy enunciation, Potter's voice cracked and became "Po Te".

Beside her were a blonde girl and a short-haired boy, both with identical eyes.

Harry remembered that one of them was named Pansy, the other was named Daphne, and the short-haired boy was named Nott—he was sorted into Slytherin the moment the Sorting Hat touched his scalp.

Harry looked at Neville, bewildered, as he clearly didn't recognize any of these people.

Neville didn't say anything, but gestured towards the Sorting Hat, "The last freshman."

"Brace Sabini".

"Slytherin!"

When Pansy and the other two saw that it was Sabini, they all looked at each other with disdain, while the little snakes exchanged knowing smiles.

"This guy's here, and Draco went to Gryffindor instead! Has that hat lost his mind?!"

Pansy said angrily, still resentful that Draco had gone to Gryffindor.

Not only did he take his anger out on Harry, but he also hoped that Sabine and Draco could be switched.

Sabine strode over and sat down next to Harry, keeping his head down and saying nothing.

Ever since the rumors of Madame Sabine's seduction of Moriarty spread, Sabine has been unable to hold her head high in the pureblood circle.

The children of the pure-blood family were all told by their mothers not to get too close to Sabine.

All of this was observed by Moriarty and Lilith at the top of the long table.

Lilith, always eager to stir up trouble, said, "Oh dear, Mrs. Slytherin's son wasn't sorted into Slytherin, but Mrs. Sabine's son was! How is someone going to explain this when they go home? Tsk tsk..."

Moriarty stroked his chin and said casually, "Even if it were my own son, I would be happy which house he was assigned to."

"Really?" Lilith was somewhat surprised. "The son I have with you—wait, your own son will have the Slytherin surname!"

Lilith's heart skipped a beat; in her excitement, she had blurted out what was on her mind.

"Of course, that's the truth." Moriarty pretended not to hear and said righteously, "Whether it's Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff, they are all students of Hogwarts—I've said this many times, and I've always treated them all equally."

These words resonated with the senior students from all four colleges, and reassured the freshmen who hadn't been assigned to their desired colleges.

Hannah happily told Tonks, "I knew Mr. Moriarty wouldn't hate me for not going to Slytherin!"

However, Tonks was focused on the food. "Professor Dumbledore, what are you dawdling about? Hurry up and announce that dinner is served! I've taught the house-elves so many delicious dishes."

The eaglets were also discussing why this year's food was taking so long to arrive.

Their observations were meticulous; they noticed that one seat on the professor's bench was empty.

"Is Professor Dumbledore waiting for someone?" Penelope said. "Don't forget, our Defense Against the Dark Arts professorship is vacant now that Professor Lockhart has taken up his post."

"Huh?" Zhang Qiu blinked. "Could it be that Professor Dumbledore is waiting for the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"

Hermione blurted out, "What's so special about this professor? Why is everyone waiting for him?"

"Granger, you should know that Defense Against the Dark Arts is cursed! No professor can teach that class for more than a year," Penelope explained with a smile, but it sent a chill down Hermione's spine.

"A curse has been cast!" Hermione covered her mouth.

The legend quickly spread, and the other freshmen also became nervous. Ron's deeds instilled fear of the curse in everyone.

Harry mustered his courage and asked, "Senior Marcus? Do you know about that curse?"

"Huh?" Marcus didn't even look up, his voice muffled: "Don't call me before the food is served."

The older snake chuckled, unfazed, while Harry blushed deeply, and Pansy gave a mocking laugh.

Soldaya looked over and said with amusement, "Pansy, you must be disappointed that Draco couldn't come, right?"

Pansy and the other two nodded. Sordaya looked at Harry more closely, staring at the scar on Harry's forehead, seemingly lost in thought.

Ultimately, Harry heard about the curse on Defense Against the Dark Arts from Ravenclaw.

The new students clearly felt a greater sense of awe.

"Hey Pepe?" Zhang Qiu suddenly whispered to Penelope, "Have you noticed that Professor Snape keeps staring at those two freshmen at the end of the Slytherin table? And his face... ugh~ it smells worse than the stinkiest black-eyed ant egg I've ever smelled."

Penelope glanced discreetly at the professors' table and observed for a while. She found that, just as Zhang Qiu had said, Professor Snape's eyes were fixed on Slytherin, or more precisely, on the new student Harry Potter.

Sometimes Penelope seemed to see a hint of green in Spellbo's eyes.

"That's strange," Penelope said, puzzled.

"Squeak—"

The castle gates were suddenly pushed open.

A person strode into the auditorium hall.

When he appeared before the people, he enthusiastically raised his right hand and waved.

"Hello everyone, long time no see! I'm back!"

Immediately following, the little snakes burst into applause.

Dumbledore also stood up abruptly.

(One more update tonight)