"Azkaban? Where is the Azkaban House located?"
Iblis's gaze swept across the four long tables, as if trying to figure out where she was supposed to go. For some reason, the whispering among the young wizards grew louder.
"Quiet!"
Dumbledore had to step in to calm everyone down. His eyes lingered on Iblis for a moment before turning back to the students below. He stroked the Sorting Hat with a reassuring hand and chuckled playfully, "It seems our old friend's mind isn't quite as sharp when it's time for a break. Sorry to call you in for overtime."
A wondrous glow lit up in Dumbledore's hand, and the wildly thrashing Sorting Hat grew still, slowly drifting off to sleep.
"My child, I'm so sorry you had such an unpleasant experience. Think nothing of it, alright?"
Dumbledore put the Sorting Hat back, completely unfazed by the recent commotion. With a wave of his hand, four streams of light flew toward the ceiling of the Great Hall and burst into bloom.
Red, green, blue, and yellow—four primary colors of light took shape in the air.
A roaring lion, an entwined serpent, a soaring eagle, and a running badger.
Dumbledore's voice was loud and solemn. This was a Sorting Ceremony unlike any before; the Headmaster of Hogwarts was personally introducing the four houses to all the students.
"A thirst for power, filled with idealism and fearlessness, justice, decisiveness, and never giving up—Gryffindor.
A thirst for power, filled with ambition, strong yet calm, elegant and self-contained—Slytherin.
A love for study, far-sighted, wise and erudite, extraordinary—Ravenclaw.
Diligent and pragmatic, humble and introverted, clear-cut, fearing no hardship—Hufflepuff.
In the year 990 AD, four powerful wizards founded Hogwarts, and these four houses were established, divided by their names and traits."
Dumbledore looked at Iblis, who had remained silent the whole time. "Miss Grimm, is there any house that catches your eye?"
Iblis stared at the fireworks in the sky, her expression somewhat desolate. "Do you know Merlin?"
Professor McGonagall, who had already reached the edge of the stage, thought the girl was going to proclaim her faith in Merlin once again and was about to remind Dumbledore, but he took the cue instead.
"Of course, he is known to everyone in the wizarding world. I've heard he appeared in the Middle Ages, a legendary figure contemporary with King Arthur. He is an unbeatable wizard, a legend of Britain."
Dumbledore accurately caught where the girl's gaze had frozen: on the green giant snake in the air spitting its tongue. It seemed this was the house she belonged in.
"Rumor has it that Merlin was once a student of Slytherin House, and Salazar Slytherin personally guided his studies."
"Is that so?"
Iblis's response turned nonchalant, looking completely uninterested. She walked off the stage on her own.
"I used to think your greatest purpose was recording history. It seems I overestimated you after all."
She walked to an empty seat at the far end of the Slytherin long table and sat down, closing her eyes to rest. After she took her seat, Dumbledore gave a brief welcome speech, and a lavish feast instantly appeared.
Most of the students shifted their attention away from that inexplicable girl. They began to tuck in, talking excitedly with new friends. Compared to the other houses, the Slytherin table was somewhat gloomy; they were a bit baffled by this strange girl.
Iblis, who had been resting with her eyes closed, slowly opened them. Her gaze, deep enough to seem capable of piercing through all things, cut across the bustling Great Hall and locked onto a pair of ink-black eyes that swallowed all light like a black hole.
A reunion spanning twenty-two years, and the gears of fate began to turn.
The man staring at her sat at the staff table, dressed in attire matching his eyes—shrouded in all-black, monotonous, hollow, lonely, and oppressive. Black wizard robes wrapped around his entire body, buttoned all the way up to his neck. Unkempt, greasy medium-length black hair hung down his shoulders, accompanied by a prominent aquiline nose and a coldness etched between his wrinkled brows.
The moment their lines of sight crossed, Snape's pupils constricted slightly, and the buried fragments of his childhood memories pieced themselves back together. The girl who had appeared only for a brief moment in his childhood, the girl who possessed mysterious power even when her magic had just awakened, the way she inexplicably worshipped Merlin, and that sentence carried with supreme power—arrogant and holy judgment.
After that night, Salar truly vanished, and so did the girl. The next year's opening ceremony had no sign of the girl either; she seemed to have vanished straight from this world. Just as he was gradually forgetting, the girl appeared once more, untouched even by the passage of time. Could it really be her...
The girl sitting at the end of the long table moved her lips, as if talking to herself, but her gaze remained fixed on Snape. Snape narrowed his eyes to examine closely. What is she trying to say to me?
Gradually, under the table, the hand Snape had cut by accidentally knocking over a goblet clenched into a fist. His jaw tightened, and his brow furrowed deeply. He understood the girl's silent words, and a nameless fire spread in his heart. He abruptly turned his head away, feeling a trace of self-mockery. How could it possibly be this infuriating brat...
Iblis tilted her head slightly, staring at the man in the distance, and asked with a peculiar expression, "Who on earth are you? You've been staring at me this whole time. It's creeping me out."
"Who's staring at you? You're the one who's been looking at me this whole time!" A childish boy's voice sounded beside her. Iblis snapped back to reality. A blond-haired boy with slicked-back hair was glaring at her. The boy seemed a bit evasive of Iblis's gaze—what was she trying to achieve by staring at him like that from the start? A blush inexplicably crept up his cheeks.
"My name is Draco, Draco Malfoy. How rude."
Seeing that Iblis showed no reaction whatsoever upon hearing the boy's name—unlike the others who revealed looks of envy or respect upon hearing the surname Malfoy—made Draco lose a bit of face.
"Hah, looks like you know nothing at all. You must be a half-blood. Malfoy is one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families. Since you've ended up in Slytherin, you'd better figure out who you should be hanging out with."
Iblis's gaze turned inexplicably complex, and she let out a disdainful, light chuckle. "Pure-blood, half-blood... To think there were clearly only wizards and Muggles, and now there are more..."
Draco raised his chin and motioned toward the Gryffindor long table opposite them, a sneer of contempt in his eyes. "See those noisy monkeys? We are completely different from them. We are noble exi—ah!"
Draco proudly placed Slytherin above all other houses. Just as he was about to continue endlessly padding his own ego, a man covered entirely in chains and blood passed right through the wall, flying above the long tables while continuously brandishing a long sword in his hand.
"What... what is this disgusting thing?" Draco was startled by the suddenly appearing silver ghost, completely forgetting to maintain his arrogant pure-blood composure.
"Hey, it's the Bloody Baron!"
"It's the Slytherin house ghost!"
Several upperclassmen offered explanations. At the same time, silver ghosts of various sorts appeared at the other three long tables as well. Gradually, more ghosts poured in, like a welcoming ceremony prepared for the young wizards.
"Manifested ghosts... Now this is an interesting place." Orbs of silver light reflected in Iblis's eyes. She picked up a piece of bread from the table and tossed it directly at the Baron.
"Hey, bloody one. Over here."
The bread in the air passed right through the Baron's body, but he still felt it. With a violent glint in his eyes, he turned his head back to glare at the audacious little wizard.
"Hey, what are you doing?!" Draco looked at the girl beside him in disbelief. Not only did she show up late to her own sorting ceremony, drive the Sorting Hat crazy, and put the Headmaster and professors in an awkward spot, but now she was provoking their own house ghost?
Draco and the other students sitting near Iblis tacitly scooted a bit further away. The upperclassmen also wore looks of shock, even bordering on gloating. While ghosts couldn't touch physical entities—save for that obnoxious Peeves—the ghost of their own house was an existence even Peeves feared.
Moreover, the Baron was famous for his explosive temper; he didn't hold back his mood even when facing young wizards. The Baron angrily strode up to Iblis, his wide, bloodshot eyes frightening quite a few of the younger students.
The Baron's voice was hoarse and low, as if fresh blood might overflow from the corners of his mouth at any second. "You..."
"Why are you Slytherin's house ghost? Where is that brat, Salazar?"
The Baron furrowed his brow tightly. He leaned down close to Iblis, anger spreading across his face.
"Lord Slytherin is one of the great founders of the house! What right do you have to use his first name so familiarly!"
"Right?" The little girl in front of the Baron suddenly burst out laughing. Her laughter grew louder and louder; her pure face became tainted with an unbridled and mischievous air, mocking the heavens like a fallen angel. It seemed this was her true appearance.
The Baron was also startled by the girl's sudden transformation. He looked helplessly toward Dumbledore at the staff table. Had he scared this little girl out of her mind?
"A lost, foolish soul. With a state like that, you will never find your way home."
The girl's laughter suddenly stopped, and she finally looked squarely at the ghost before her. Iblis rested her chin in one hand, looked at the Baron, and nodded with great interest, saying playfully,
"A pathetic romance... anger born of unrequited love... cowardly and foolish to the point of pity... Is she here too? Haha, marvelous, simply marvelous!"
"Little one, what did you say..."
The Baron turned back again, his illusory body acting as if it had been turned to stone. It was as though his mind had been hijacked, unable to pull his gaze away from the girl's silver eyes.
"Who are you calling a little one?"
The surrounding clamor seemed as though it had never existed. An overwhelmingly terrifying force enveloped him. The girl's clear eyes were now revealing an endless aura of darkness, and the Baron's mind was flooded with the low moans, cries, and wails of tens of millions of souls.
Fear grew wildly within the Baron's heart; his face twisted, and his sanity was being eroded bit by bit. Waves of icy chill extended from his spine all over his body. How long had it been since he last felt the threat of death? He wanted to call out for help, to escape, but he was like an ant standing beneath an elephant's foot, unable to move a single millimeter.
Just as the Baron was on the verge of a complete breakdown, the oppressive aura retreated, and the terrifying screams vanished as if they had never appeared. The girl in front of him was simply smiling calmly at him. The Baron stumbled forward right through the dining table beneath him, his body passing straight through it as he fled the scene in utter humiliation.