Hogwarts: Don't call me the Staff Maker

Chapter 11 Branching

After receiving an affirmative reply from Xilun, Hagrid descended the stone steps and left.

On the other side of the castle, Harry Potter had been watching this side... or rather, he had been glancing at Hagrid's direction intentionally or unintentionally along the way, and happened to see the two whispering to each other at the back of the group.

For reasons unknown, after Xilun entered the castle, he instinctively walked over to him.

"Excuse me, what were you talking about just now?"

Xilun was stunned for a moment, because he didn't expect this savior to be so... outgoing?

Logically speaking, after Malfoy's provocation, he shouldn't have any goodwill towards pure-blood wizards right now.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it that way." Harry probably realized his behavior had been a bit rash, and flustered, he gesticulated wildly as he explained, "I know Hagrid too, I mean, if you need my help..."

"Thank you for your kindness, but no need for help," Xilun said casually. "He just has something broken that I happen to be able to fix."

"Oh, I see. By the way, my name is Harry Potter."

"Sirlen Ollivander, we've met in Diagon Alley, but back then your attention was all on your wand."

"Really? I'm sorry, I really don't remember."

"It's alright, very few wizards can remain calm when they receive their first wand."

……

The two chatted casually, which attracted the attention of others.

Malfoy would glance over every now and then, and each time his expression was different—it was quite a sight.

Why should I?

They're all pure-blood wizards, so why is Potter allowed to chat with Siron? That's not fair!

Ron was in the same boat as him, except that Ron's face showed more wariness.

After what had happened, he subconsciously categorized Siren into the same group as Malfoy, since it was common knowledge that Weasley and Malfoy had always been at odds.

So the more Harry and Siron talked, the angrier he became.

Fortunately, Professor McGonagall arrived shortly afterward and led everyone into the auditorium.

The auditorium was packed, but when Professor McGonagall led a long line in, everyone's eyes were drawn to the new students.

Are you nervous? Most of the freshmen seem to be quite nervous, but they are also amazed by the magical scene before them.

The ceiling was actually a starry sky.

A thousand burning candles floated beneath the enchanted ceiling, creating the illusion of another starry sky.

There were also a dozen or so milky white, human-like things around.

Is that a ghost?

Several of the more timid children, including Neville, had their legs go weak and stumbled as they struggled to get to the front.

Hermione, who was standing next to her, was a little better, but she was still pale and clutching the corner of her robe tightly with both hands.

Ghosts, singing hats—these things were practically rubbing her eleven years of knowledge and beliefs into the ground repeatedly…

After an unknown amount of time, the Sorting Hat finally finished its song, and the people below sat up straight.

"Now we'll begin the sorting process. Whoever I call, put on your hat and sit down on the stool."

Professor McGonagall looked around at the new students.

"Hannah Abbott!"

……

As the number of new students around him dwindled, Xilun suddenly realized something: he was still holding Tom.

Normally, pets are brought to school with luggage, but Tom chased after his colleague off the train to eat, so Sheren had to carry him to the castle.

But he can't exactly carry a cat to the Sorting Ceremony now; that would be too flashy and look pretentious.

"Sirlen Ollivander!"

Professor McGonagall's voice came through, and without time to think about what to do, Celen could only let go and throw Tom to the ground.

"Don't wander off," he hurriedly reminded him, then walked ahead.

"Look, it's Sheron!" Hermione, who had just arrived at the Gryffindor table, turned and said.

She was sitting next to Neville.

"I really hope he gets sorted into Gryffindor," Hermione whispered.

A passing ghost overheard his words and immediately shook his head, "That's impossible."

"Why?" Hermione didn't understand. With four houses, the probability should be at least one in four, so how could it be impossible?

"Because he's an Ollivander," Nick said with a nearly headless laugh. "Most Ollivanders go to Ravenclaw, so they're unlikely to be assigned there..."

"Gryffindor!"

The ghost's words were interrupted by the loud sound of the hat.

The next second, the entire auditorium fell into a very strange state.

Some students clapped instinctively, but a small number simply sat there, staring in surprise.

Even the professors sitting in the front row didn't applaud; instead, they all turned their gazes toward the Sorting Hat.

Gradually, the applause faded, and the auditorium fell into an eerie silence.

Snape squinted, Professor Flitwick rubbed his ears vigorously, and even Dumbledore unconsciously leaned forward.

"Albus..." Professor McGonagall turned her head, as if trying to confirm something.

"The Sorting Hat never makes a mistake," Dumbledore said firmly.

"Looks like the Sorting Hat has given us another big surprise." Snape smirked, his tone icy.

"Yes," Professor Flitwick chimed in, "just like decades ago when Black was sorted into Gryffindor."

"But this time it's even more outrageous."

All eyes were on Siron, who calmly took off his hat and handed it back to Professor McGonagall.

"Mr. Ollivander, you..."

"I respect the Sorting Hat's rules, Professor," Celen said calmly. "But may I ask the Sorting Hat one more question? I was in such a rush earlier that I forgot."

"...No problem." Professor McGonagall hesitated for a moment, then put the hat back on Siron's head.

"Hmm? It's you again." I heard that faint voice again. "No matter what you say, I won't change my mind. You're perfect for Gryffindor."

"No, you misunderstand. I just want to ask you a question," Xiren said, not trying to lower his voice, so many people could hear him.

"Ask whatever you want."

Do you have a particular favorite type of wood?

……

wood?

Those who heard this were completely confused and didn't understand the significance of the question.

Only Dumbledore guessed something, and his expression changed slightly.

I had long heard that the Ollivander family had produced an extraordinary and talented wandmaker who could mold all sorts of unimaginable materials into wand cores.

Could it be... Oh, impossible, what is he thinking? How could a hat be made into a cane core?

Dumbledore shook his head, thinking that Sheryl was probably just trying to scare the Sorting Hat.

This personality is nothing like Ollivander's.

At this moment, Siren had calmly walked to the Gryffindor table and sat down.

The branching continued as if nothing had happened.

"Next up, Harry Potter!"