A certain broken Hogwarts

Chapter 216 The Principal's Speech

The college sorting ceremony began, but apart from the freshmen who were nervously waiting for their sorting, everyone seemed a little absent-minded, and the atmosphere was more silent and oppressive than at this time of year.

The young wizards sitting around the four long tables were still reeling from the double shock of the train attack and the Dementors' search. They were also drenched in the cold rain, their stomachs rumbling with hunger, and they had no interest in chatting with their companions.

The professors in the faculty seats also looked more solemn and serious. They whispered to each other and occasionally cast worried glances in Harry's direction.

The principal, who always seemed full of energy, sat dignifiedly in his high-backed chair. His silver hair and beard shimmered under the light of the thousands of candles hanging above the table. His eyes behind his crescent-shaped glasses were half-open, and his face was expressionless. He seemed to be witnessing the sorting ceremony very seriously, or perhaps he was lost in thought.

Irving sat upright at the long table, silently observing the changes in the teachers' section, his mind wandering to all sorts of delicious food. Although he had eaten a chocolate frog on the train, it only made him feel hungrier.

The greyish-white Sorting Hat wobbled on the stool, a wide crack appearing on it, and loudly sang its new song for the year:

"Don't underestimate me just because it's a hat,"

Clean and tidy, ordinary and simple

It was as smooth as a new hat.

I have witnessed countless historical changes.

As old as Hogwarts.

The four giants instilled ideas in me.

I will select the talent for them.

If you possess extraordinary courage…

The Sorting Hat's strange singing continued, and Blaise, sitting opposite Owen, couldn't help but speak up: "Isn't this hat acting a little strange?"

He looked at the topped wizard's hat with great curiosity, his previously listless spirits suddenly lifting: "Look, it used to be filthy, the grease on it was shining. But now it's turned grayish-white, not only clean, but it even seems to have faded..."

"Isn't this normal? They finally remembered they should wash this hat," Draco said, drawing out his words and raising his chin slightly. "It's amazing they only thought of this a thousand years later."

"I wonder which clever person did this. Hogwarts should really give him an award," he said sarcastically.

"It must have been the headmaster," Daphne whispered, glancing at Dumbledore, who was calmly squinting at the teachers' table. "The Sorting Hat is usually kept by Mr. Dumbledore, isn't it?"

"Come on, he never thought of cleaning up the Sorting Hat in all these years." Draco scoffed. "But when someone gets senile, they can certainly do some strange things..."

"Draco!" Harry interrupted Draco, not wanting to hear any more disrespectful things from him.

Draco snorted, casually crossed his arms, and leaned back in his chair, his face held high. Crabbe and Goyle sat on either side of him, tall and imposing like two strong and burly bodyguards, if one ignored the fact that they were secretly stuffing snacks into their mouths.

Owen, one hand propping up his chin, listened intently to the Sorting Hat's new song. The song clearly expressed his intense dissatisfaction with being "washed clean," along with a sense of resigned surrender, filled with helplessness and compromise towards the harsh reality and the forces of evil…

"Tsk, Mr. Grindelwald did a great job!" Owen thought.

"...I have never misjudged anything."

As long as you keep me properly on your head,

I can then determine which college you belong to.

Because I am a magic hat of wisdom!

After singing the last few lines, the Sorting Hat swayed and bowed to each of the four dining tables, drawing thunderous applause from the audience.

Professor McGonagall began calling out names to the freshmen for their sorting houses. The students sitting around the long table huddled together, whispering about the changes to the Sorting Hat.

As expected, Astoria was sorted into Slytherin. Slightly out of breath, she ran up to Daphne and sat down next to her, pouting slightly and occasionally glaring at Draco, then wrinkling her nose at Owen and Harry. She had genuinely thought she was going to fight a dragon, which had made her quite anxious for a long time.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her smugly, while Harry coughed lightly, a little embarrassed, and turned his head away. Owen waited listlessly for dinner, bickering with Meurette over the beef jerky meant as a cat treat.

After the sorting ceremony, the principal stood up from his seat, smiled and nodded to everyone: "I'm glad to see you all sitting here safely. Perhaps you're all eager to enjoy a good meal after experiencing a nightmarish attack, but before that, I have a few words to say to you."

The whispers in the auditorium fell silent as everyone stared at the white-haired old man in the teachers' section.

The headmaster placed his hands, fingers interlaced in front of his abdomen, and slowly said, "In the previous attack, there were five attackers. I think you should first express your gratitude to Professor Black, the train driver, and the witch who risked their lives to stop the attackers."

A round of applause erupted in the auditorium, and the students clapped enthusiastically. Dumbledore paused for a moment, nodded to Sirius Black, who was also sitting in the faculty section, and waited until the applause subsided before continuing to speak.

"During this process, our male student council president led several prefects to help block the attackers, while the female student council president organized the remaining prefects to calm people down and stabilize the situation inside the carriage... They did a great job."

Beside the Gryffindor table, Percy Weasley puffed out his chest proudly, raised his chin smugly, and his cheeks turned as red as his hair.

The principal slowly scanned the crowd in the auditorium, observing the students' diverse behaviors without much expression on his face.

"But I'm disappointed." His tone shifted, and his eyes suddenly sharpened, causing the students' expressions to freeze slightly.

"There were only five attackers, but there were hundreds of people on the train! Even disregarding this year's freshmen, lower-year students, and the injured, tell me, how many of you were capable of wielding a wand? And how many of those people were in nearby carriages and could clearly see the battle taking place outside?"

"So many wizards, even if you hid in the carriages, each of you could have protected the carriages and the people inside from harm by just one defensive spell! Even if each of you only cast one offensive spell, you could have easily overwhelmed a mere five enemies! And what have you all done?" he asked softly.

He suddenly raised his voice: "Hiding in a sturdy iron shell, trembling helplessly like Muggles, busy screaming, crying, pushing and shoving the people around you, passively waiting for the adults to rescue you, or waiting for the attackers to break in and kill you."

The hall was completely silent. The young wizards' lips were slightly parted, while the older students looked at him with a mixture of shame and defiance.

Professor McGonagall frowned, turned her head and glared at Dumbledore, her expression full of surprise and disapproval.

But Dumbledore ignored her and continued, “Yes, you can find countless excuses to explain your behavior. It was your first time experiencing such a dangerous situation, and you panicked; it was too dark and the wind and rain were too strong, and you couldn't see the situation outside clearly; the prefects told you to stay put and not cause trouble…”

"Yes, I know, and I understand." The principal's serious expression softened, and his tone became gentler. "So this time, I don't mean to condemn anyone. Even if your response wasn't excellent, even if your attitude wasn't proactive, it's only human nature, and I shouldn't hold you to adult standards..."

This time, many older students blushed and lowered their heads.

Irving blinked, thinking to himself, "This guy's got a knack for manipulating people's minds. But Principal, your persona's crumbling, huh? You're really not even going to keep up the act anymore, are you?"

I can't even imagine what kind of students Grindelwald will lead the Hogwarts students into... Hmm, I'm kind of looking forward to it.

The headmaster's piercing gaze swept across the young faces, and he continued, "But we cannot deny that, in places you cannot see, the wizarding world has never been truly safe. No one can guarantee that a similar situation will not happen to you again."

"I just hope that after this experience, when you face another crisis, you will remember your identity as wizards and respond in a way that is befitting your status as wizards."

"Remember, you are not helpless lambs! You should raise your wands against your enemies and use the knowledge you have learned here to defend, attack, or flee, instead of begging for help like a weak lamb or pleading with the butcher to lay down his knife!"

The principal's resounding words echoed softly in the quiet auditorium, and after a long while, sparse applause began to rise, which quickly grew into thunderous applause.

The applause lasted for a while. The headmaster raised his hand to quiet it down, cleared his throat, and continued, "So, this train attack is now closed for the time being. I will not allow such a thing to happen at Hogwarts. However, I also don't want you to let your guard down because of this, and you shouldn't place all your hopes on others."

"Next, I have a few important things to say," he said. "First, our school has received some Dementors from Azkaban. They have been dispatched by the Ministry of Magic to carry out official duties, stationed at every entrance to the school to ensure that no suspicious persons enter Hogwarts."

"I hereby solemnly remind everyone that no one is allowed to leave the school without permission. Don't think you can fool the Dementors; no tricks, schemes, or disguises will deceive them. I don't want to see anyone harmed by them or have a conflict with them."

The principal finished speaking calmly, then surveyed the auditorium with a composed expression. No one moved or made a sound.

He smiled suddenly, gracefully raising his right hand to indicate his left side: "Next, we would like to welcome two new teachers to our team."

"Professor Black will fill the vacancy in the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He will teach you wizards how to engage in true duels and how to deal with unexpected accidents and crises."

Sirius sat next to Professor McGonagall, smiling and nodding at everyone. Everyone applauded, except for Professor Snape.

Harry was somewhat taken aback to see Professor Snape sitting there with a dark and gloomy face, his sallow face twitching slightly, staring at Sirius with what could only be described as hatred from a distance.

"What grudge does Sirius have against Professor Snape?" Harry asked in a low voice, somewhat confused.

"It looks like a deep-seated grudge," Draco said slowly. "It can't be because the Dean failed to become the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor again."

"So here's the question, Harry," Owen asked seriously, "if Sirius Black and Professor Snape got into a conflict, whose side would you take?"

Meeting Owen's expectant gaze, Harry's lips twitched. He couldn't help but imagine the scene: on one side was his godfather, who had taken such good care of him, and on the other was the headmaster, who had placed high hopes on him; it seemed he couldn't afford to hurt either side's feelings...

He paused, then said expressionlessly, "What does their adult business have to do with me? I'll go ask Professor McGonagall."

"Hiss—how heartless, Harry," Owen shook his head and sighed, trying hard to suppress a laugh.

Harry glanced at him, puzzled, and went back to listening to Dumbledore speak.

"...As for our second new teacher," the principal's voice drifted over, "your teacher for the Conservation of Magical Creatures class, Professor Kettleburn, retired at the end of last semester, and Professor Rubeus Hagrid has agreed to take the position."

Hagrid sat at the far end of the teachers' table, looking down at his large hands, a big smile hidden behind his messy black beard, his face flushed red.

Harry looked at Hagrid with surprise and delight, and clapped his hands vigorously.

"Oh no!" Draco groaned. "That idiot... that Hagrid will probably have his little darlings twist our heads off! Just imagine, a textbook that bites..."

"I should have realized that perhaps only Hagrid would find such a book interesting." Daphne covered her forehead after clapping.

"I think it's pretty good." Blaise raised his eyebrows. "How about we make a bet: who'll be the first to have their finger bitten off?"

"Don't say that, Blaise," Harry quickly explained for Hagrid. "Hagrid will be careful to behave himself when he's teaching."

"Uh, I guess so..." he said uncertainly. Remembering Hagrid's past actions, he suddenly felt uneasy.

Irving offered no comment, as the long table was already laden with food and drinks. He took a large portion of pan-fried lamb chops and a glass of lemonade, and elegantly and quickly stuffed the food into his mouth.

After a delicious feast, the well-fed young wizards yawned and strolled slowly towards their respective common rooms.

Sirius Black came to Harry's side and looked at him with concern, saying, "Harry, how are you feeling? I don't know, those Dementors..."

"I'm alright, Sirius," Harry said quickly. He didn't want to mention at all that he had fainted in front of the Dementors.

"Okay. If you feel unwell, be sure to tell me." Sirius nodded somewhat worriedly, then said to Owen and the others, "Please keep an eye on Harry's condition..."

Harry, a little embarrassed, changed the subject, saying, "Sirius, are you alright?"

Sirius smiled, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight: "Of course not, those people can't handle me."

He then looked thoughtfully at Owen: "But someone secretly helped me out by setting off a black flame on Peter Pettigrew." He remembered Harry telling him that Owen owned a phoenix that could breathe black flames.

Irving nodded with a smile, his voice light and cheerful, "I asked Nyx to go check on things and lend a hand. But when Nyx came back, she told me that you weren't in a very good position, Sirius."

"Ahem..." Sirius coughed for a while, interrupting him. Meeting Harry's worried gaze, he said helplessly, "One against two is a bit of a stretch, but I know how to protect myself. Peter Pettigrew wasn't very motivated back then, but I wouldn't lose to Bellatrix."

Seeing Harry's increasingly reproachful look, he couldn't take it anymore and turned to Owen, saying, "I have to thank you for your help. Come to think of it, you've helped me several times already."

He thought for a moment and said, "I heard from Harry that you like to study magic. I have a lot of interesting books in my house in Grimmauld Place. Would you like to take a look when you have time?" He didn't want to repay the favor in this way, but just wanted to do something for the other party to show his support.

Irving's eyes lit up, and he looked at him expectantly: "Really?"

"Of course," Sirius said nonchalantly. Clearly, he didn't care at all about handing over the Black family's precious collection of books passed down through generations to someone else; he hated everything about that family.

"Thank you very much," Irving said with a smile.

He was indeed very interested in it. Although the Shafik family also had a considerable collection of books, he wasn't in a position to make decisions within the family yet. With his parents' influence so great, many books that they believed Owen shouldn't be exposed to at his age were hidden away tightly, making them impossible for him to access...

Well, hopefully Sirius doesn't have that habit.

Owen's mind wandered, then he asked with some curiosity, "Do you know who the other three attackers are?"

At this point, Sirius's expression turned serious again: "We eventually caught two of them; they were both under Bellatrix's Imperius Curse."

"But those people aren't innocent either. They're all dark wizards with dirty hands, and they've already been taken away by the Dementors," he added.

Seeing Harry's somber expression, Sirius comforted him, "You don't need to feel guilty, Harry. This has nothing to do with you; it's the attackers' fault. You don't need to blame yourself for it."

Harry shook his head and said, "I just want to catch them as soon as possible."

"Ah, who wouldn't want that?" Sirius said, "but before that, you have to protect yourself first."

After exchanging a few words, they said goodbye to Sirius and returned to their respective dorm rooms, where they collapsed onto their warm, soft four-poster beds.

(End of this chapter)