Great Britain has a humid climate.

Even in September, the coldness still stings the skin at night.

Hagrid waved the huge oil lamp: "First-year students, first-year students! Come here, oh, Harry, are you all right? Come to me."

They followed Hagrid across the path and into the boat by the lake.

Staggering towards Hogwarts.

A boat could hold four people, Harry, Ron, and the remaining two were a brown-haired, buck-toothed otter whom he had met once on the train, and a timid little boy named Neville who looked like a round-faced fat Scottish chicken.

"Hello, nice to see you again." The otter girl greeted them.

Ron responded perfunctorily: "Hello."

Harry nodded, more perfunctorily.

His attention was on other things, for example... the mixed auras underwater, one of which seemed exceptionally powerful; or... the magical aura that had been entwining himself and every first-year student since they stepped onto the path.

Like the clouds clearing away and the sun appearing, the magnificent castle of Hogwarts became clearer and more intimate in his eyes.

A contract with the castle itself?

Are they emulating the four founders’ discovery of Hogwarts Castle, an act that is a ritual in itself?

The book doesn’t mention this, so you can only figure it out once you enter Hogwarts.

Under the leadership of Hagrid.

They walked to the castle gate and saw Professor McGonagall, the Vice-Principal who looked like someone who was not easy to mess with. They were led to a side hall to wait.

"How can they accurately assign us to which college?" The brown-haired otter frowned, a little confused.

Ron clenched his fists and looked at Harry: "Fred, one of my brothers, said that we had to pass a test that would be very harmful to us, but I think he was joking with me."

"My uncle said we had to fight the troll." Neville's face was horrified, holding his toad in his hand. The poor little thing kept struggling.

Harry shook his head.

He doesn't believe that.

Even a cruel being like a demon hunter would not throw an untrained child in front of spirits, ghouls, or evil ghosts.

"Don't worry, we've already signed a contract with Hogwarts." Harry patted Ron's shoulder, "Maybe... just a small spell to see your character and then decide which house to put you in."

According to the book...

The bold and brainless ones are thrown into Gryffindor, the studious ones are thrown into Ravenclaw, the insidious and cunning ones are thrown into Slytherin, and the rest are thrown into Hufflepuff.

Neville said with a sad face: "Oh, no, then I will definitely go to Hufflepuff."

"Does it matter which house you go to?" Harry was puzzled. "The skills you learn are all the same."

Different from the school of the demon hunter.

There are many schools of demon hunters, but the skills that can be learned in different schools are different.

The Wolf School is the most disciplined group of demon hunters, and is more like the Griffin School, with its use of sigils, pre-battle preparations, and solid swordsmanship. The Bear School emphasizes a strong physique, the thickest armor, and the ability to withstand the most severe blows, while the Cat School is more like an assassin, a bunch of mentally ill lunatics who hide in the shadows and do despicable things.

The four houses of Hogwarts... seem to correspond to only four qualities. As for the skills learned, they are treated equally and are all taught by the same teachers.

Neville tightened the rifle in his hand, and the toad uttered a miserable, feeble cry.

"If you are a coward, you will only grow up to be a coward no matter where you are." Harry looked at Neville and said bluntly, "Only when you become strong inside can you be truly strong."

Neville bowed his head.

"No, you shouldn't say that about Neville." The brown-haired otter grinned at him, "He, he..."

"Is there something wrong with what I said, Miss Otter?" Harry shook his head.

The brown-haired otter covered his mouth and stared at Harry with wide eyes: "Who is the otter? Didn't you listen to my introduction on the ship? I am Hermione, Hermione Granger."

"Oh, okay, Miss Granger, is there something wrong with what I said?" Harry nodded, obediently changed his words, and repeated the question.

Hermione covered her mouth and gritted her teeth.

This was nothing like the savior she had imagined!

Professor McGonagall came back soon and led them into the hall - the ceiling seemed transparent, and they could see the stars in the sky outside.

From the outside, it looked about the same size as the Wolf Clan's castle, Kaer Morhen, so Harry thought he would have to live a somewhat cramped life.

You can walk in and it’s very big inside.

Just one hall is out of reach.

It's magic again, magic that can change the volume of space.

Professor McGonagall put the Sorting Hat in place, and after enduring that slightly noisy little song, the first-year students realized that they didn't need to fight the troll, they just had to put on the dirty hat.

"Whoever's name I call, come over here, put on your hat, and wait to be sorted." Professor McGonagall, holding a long parchment that reached the ground, looked serious, and then read out the first name.

"Hannah Abbott!"

Harry waited a moment before Professor McGonagall said his name.

There was a buzz of discussion in the restaurant.

"Potter, that Potter?"

"He doesn't look like a savior at all. Is he too thin?"

"Oh my god, look at his eyes, they are just like my cat's."

In the teacher's seat, the black-robed Kelp-Head sneered unabashedly.

Harry put on his hat.

The wide brim of the hat blocked his vision, and there was a strong smell of hair oil...

"Oh, no, Mr. Potter, you should say this is a long-standing vintage." The voice of the Sorting Hat sounded in his ears, "I'm just a hat. I also want to go to the bathroom, but no one helps me."

"You can read minds?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Only some superficial thoughts." The Sorting Hat said innocently, "After all, I am not a Dark Magic item. Gryffindor did not give me the ability of Legilimency."

"Let me see you..."

"Justice, courage, and intelligence." The Sorting Hat said with surprise, "You are worthy of being the savior in the prophecy. You have so many excellent qualities."

"It's really embarrassing for the hat."

"Hufflepuff, Hufflepuff is the best for you. What a passionate and sincere heart. If Hufflepuff were still alive, she would definitely love you to death."

"But if you want greater things, Slytherin or Gryffindor, that's where you belong."

"I don't mean to discriminate against Hufflepuffs, but you know, maybe you don't know, that little badgers are very capable, but they are too non-competitive."

"Slytherins and Gryffindors are always so pushy."

Harry interrupted him. "Is the only time you get to talk to people each year when you're sorting?"

The Sorting Hat was startled. "No, sometimes I also chat with Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix."

"Chatting with a bird?" Harry nodded, thoughtfully. "No wonder you talk so much."

"You're such a Slytherin!" the Sorting Hat cursed. "So, you're going to Slytherin?"

Harry shook his head. "I heard Gryffindor has a sword?"

"Yes, I tell you, it is actually in my body. Gryffindor cast a spell, and the courageous Gryffindor can pull it out of my body when it is needed." The Sorting Hat introduced enthusiastically, "It feels uncomfortable, just like pulling the throat out of the mouth."

"Hats have throats?" Harry was a little surprised.

The Sorting Hat seemed to be dancing on Harry's head. "It's just a metaphor. How come you have no sense of humor at all, little sir?"

Harry asked again, "If I pull the sword of Gryffindor from your throat, then the sword will be mine?"

"No, it's just borrowed." The Sorting Hat rejected it decisively. "The sword has always belonged to Gryffindor. Maybe now it should be said that it belongs to Hogwarts."

"Then how can I really get the Sword of Gryffindor?" Harry asked again.

The Sorting Hat fell silent. "To actually get the Sword of Gryffindor, a good question."

"You must have heard of... the legend of the Chamber of Secrets?"

Harry nodded. It was rumored that Slytherin left a secret chamber in the castle. Only the true heir of Slytherin could open the secret chamber and obtain his inheritance.

"All four great masters did so." The Sorting Hat said with some nostalgia, "They all left their own legacy."

"Anyone who can draw the sword of Gryffindor is eligible to participate in the Gryffindor Trial. If you can pass the Gryffindor Trial, you can get the sword of Gryffindor."

"Of course, the hat can't do that. I belong to Hogwarts now."

"This is a form of protection. Gryffindor asked goblins to make the sword, but goblins are very strange creatures. After Gryffindor's death, they tried to take the sword back more than once."

"Without strength, even if you get the sword, it will only be snatched away by the goblins."

Harry interrupted it and said, "As long as I draw my sword, it means I am qualified to participate in the trial?"

"Yes, but only when necessary..." the Sorting Hat began, but before it could finish its words, it was taken off by Harry.

Professor McGonagall looked at Harry in surprise - she thought Harry would become another embarrassment to the Hat, after all, the Hat seemed to be talking to him happily.

But halfway through the sorting, the hat was taken off. What was going on?

McGonagall looked up at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore leaned forward and looked at Harry meaningfully, his eyes narrowed.

Harry ignored the gossip and looks, reached into his hat, felt the hard, cold hilt of the sword, grasped it, and pulled it out.

A nearly one-meter-long silver sword exudes a strong magical aura. Time has not left any mark on this sword, and it still shines coldly.

Harry's eyes lit up and he made a sword flower.

It's a good sword.

He absolutely fell in love with it.

"Okay, kid, put away your greedy eyes." The Sorting Hat said with a nauseous tone, "This sword does not belong to you yet, give it back to me."

"I really don't know how you pulled it out. You can only pull it out when you need it."

Harry pursed his lips, unable to let go of the sword - a witcher needed a long sword in his hand at all times.

The Sorting Hat continued to yell.

"And the results of the sorting——"

"Whoever draws the sword of Gryffindor will naturally belong only to Gryffindor!"