Chapter 6: 06: Sorting and Fighting

06: Sorting and Fighting

Afterward, Dumbledore issued a plot-related task and specifically emphasized the dangers of the corridor on the third floor, right side.

John couldn't help but think, "Aren't you just tempting curious Gryffindors to check it out?"

Then came the Sorting Ceremony. Hannah Abbott, as always, was first up.

The Sorting Hat placed her in Hufflepuff.

When it was John's turn, Hermione had already been sorted into Gryffindor and was looking at him expectantly.

No one wants to be separated from their friends.

"John Wick," Professor McGonagall called out, and John stepped forward.

His sleek, black hair, combined with his exquisite features and perfectly fitting wizard robes, made him stand out.

Girls in this age group, especially feeling the excitement of Hogwarts, whispered about the handsome boy to their newly made friends with blushing faces.

Under the Sorting Hat, John saw a spider working on the hat's brim and almost recoiled in disgust.

He had already formed an impression that wizards were quite untidy compared to Muggles, but this was too much.

How could Professor McGonagall hold this without feeling disgusted?

The Sorting Hat was placed on his head, and an indignant voice came from it.

"What an impolite little wizard, just as arrogant as the previous platinum-head kid!"

John was embarrassed, not expecting the Sorting Hat to read his thoughts.

Curious, he asked, "Is this Legilimency?"

"Legilimency? A little wizard knowing such advanced magic, but no, it is not," the hat responded.

As the hat of the founding persona of Gryffindor, it used something even more advanced.

"Such a difficult choice... You have courage and a spirit of exploration, diligence and compassion, cleverness and ambition, a strong desire for honor... in that respect, you align well with Slytherin."

The Sorting Hat muttered to itself, leaving John stunned.

Wait, you didn't mention wisdom at all—does that imply I'm stupid? That's going too far.

And why am I aligned with Slytherin?

I'm not a pureblood, and Slytherins are all pureblood supremacists, naturally opposing me.

As for ambition, John was innocent; he only wanted to become a wizard on the level of Dumbledore. What's wrong with that?

Can you say you've never dreamed of being Superman?

At most, he wanted to lead a house, like being class president. How is that overly ambitious?

Slander, pure slander!

Unfortunately, no matter how much he tried to reason, the Sorting Hat, after much hesitation, finally shouted,

"Slytherin!"

"What?"

John was dumbfounded. A Muggle-born in Slytherin?

Everyone knows Slytherin is pureblood-centric, and I'm not even a half-blood—just a Muggle-born.

Sending me there is just setting me up to be bullied.

The Sorting Hat coolly replied, "Don't worry, little wizard, your honor will make Slytherin admire you."

"I suspect you're getting back at me for bad-mouthing you," John muttered.

The Sorting Hat's decision was final, something even Dumbledore couldn't change.

Resigned, John walked heavily towards the Slytherin table.

From the Gryffindor table, Hermione and Neville looked at him with concern.

"Sigh... life is tough."

Unluckily, the only seat left at the Slytherin table was next to Malfoy.

John sat down, and Malfoy, seeing how good-looking and polite he was, assumed he must be a pureblood.

To Malfoy, only purebloods could be so elegant, never thinking a Muggle-born could be like this.

For Malfoy, who disliked being ordinary, having an ally was a good thing.

Proudly, he extended his hand in friendship, "Draco Malfoy, of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pureblood families."

He lifted his head arrogantly, looking down his nose at John.

Like a peacock eager to show off for a mate.

John glanced at him, shook his hand politely, and said calmly, "John Wick."

Malfoy appreciated his sensible behavior, unlike that Harry Potter.

Even though John wasn't from one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pureblood families, Malfoy thought John was from other wizarding families. Well, even if he were a half-blood, it was still good enough as his sensible attitude earned Malfoy's favor.

So, proudly, he asked, "Are you pureblood or half-blood?"

John glanced at his proud demeanor and replied indifferently, "Neither."

Malfoy's expression stiffened. Neither?

That would mean entirely Muggle-born?

"You're a Mudblood—"

The term popped into his head, and Malfoy blurted it out.

The next second.

His jaw took a hit, and he saw the scene in front of him change dramatically.

Crabbe's scream and Goyle's yelp rang in his ears.

Then came the commotion of the entire house, followed by Professor McGonagall's scolding.

Malfoy spent his first night at school in the hospital wing.

The first Thursday of the school year.

"Sigh, life is always so unpredictable."

"Oh, life, so short and fleeting."

In the trophy room, John elegantly wiped a plaque bearing James Potter's name as if he were a waiter holding a pristine handkerchief.

Filch, supervising, turned his head away in exasperation.

Having punched a fellow student in the great hall on the first day, John was lucky to be merely polishing trophies.

Not to mention, he had also stuck a fork into Goyle's hand and slammed Crabbe's head against the table.

Though Malfoy had started it with his insult, John's retaliation was too harsh.

Slytherin lost most of their points right after the term began, leaving Snape's face dark enough to drip water.

If Dumbledore hadn't intervened, John might have been expelled.

As punishment, John had to clean the trophies in the trophy room for two months.

Because of this, John's notoriety spread throughout Hogwarts right from the start.

He became the most talked-about student of the term.

Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, licked her paw. This Maine Coon, though large, was alarmingly thin.

Finishing his day's work, John waved at Mrs. Norris.

"Goodbye, Mrs. Norris. I'll bring you some cat food tomorrow. Look how skinny you are."

He left the trophy room before Filch could get angry.

Returning to the Slytherin common room, John's entrance silenced the students inside.

They feared him for his ferocity on the first day, with some even dubbing him 'Boogeyman.'

The nickname arose from his appearance and formidable skills that day, conveying their fear of him.

John didn't mind. That fight had a purpose.

As a wizard from a Muggle family, if he didn't want to be the Slytherin punching bag, he had to establish his authority.

Clearly, he succeeded.

The downside was having no friends in Slytherin, but it wasn't without benefits.

He unlocked a quest series called 'Boogeyman.'

Back in his room.

To avoid further conflicts, he was given a single room.

He was pleased, as it allowed him to keep a dog and train without issues.

Three-month-old Tom was in a lively phase, jumping around the room and sometimes provoking his snowy owl, Basil.

This usually ended with Basil swatting him, calming him down only briefly before he resumed his antics.

John's first task upon returning was to start his workout.

It was his daily routine and a method to accumulate magic.

"Where's the magical apprenticeship in this? I feel like I'm becoming a berserker."

John touched his noticeably growing muscles after finishing his workout. Was it normal for a first-year to have an eight-pack?

Accumulating magic by training his body seemed unusual, but he had grown used to it over the years.

"Who can accumulate magic power by exercising? But I have been doing this for many years and it has become a habit."

After a shower, he ended his day.

A/N: Sorry guys, I forgot the password to my account but now I'm back!♥