Edmund's Complex Composition

[That's a strange thing to say, Hat. Shouldn't you be the one assigning me to a department?]

Edmund thought to himself.

[Or are you and your creator truly so kind as to prioritize the opinions of a junior wizard? If that's the case, it's incredibly strange. Doesn't that mean the Sorting Ceremony is meaningless, just a formality?]

The Sorting Hat seemed to roll its eyes, and for some reason, Edmund could sense it.

[Don't try to act innocent after getting the benefit! You're so mean!] The hat grumbled. [Don't try to change the subject; it's unnecessary. You and I both know very well: you're special. I need to consult your opinion to avoid causing more trouble by "not respecting you."]

Upon hearing this, Edmund's expression became even more peculiar.

[Can you glimpse my memories?]

This is impossible.

Although Edmund's body is currently supported by the "Demonic in the Lamp," it is still Edmund Soman's remaining will that dominates everything. Anyone who looks at Edmund's memories can only see a spoiled little wizard.

【That's not the case. Ah, I don't deny that most of the time, I do do that. It's the simplest approach: peek into the freshmen's memories and infer their personalities. Obviously, that won't work for you at all. So I tried a different approach, attempting to capture some fragments of your thoughts… Edmund, you're quite something!】

The Sorting Hat practically laughed with delight, sounding incredibly proud.

[By the way, if you're really concerned: time slows down a bit when I'm talking to you in my mind. But I bet you're the slowest Sorting student in the last 30 years, tsk tsk.]

Edmund rolled his eyes and asked slyly:

[If I say nothing, where will you assign me? I want to hear your judgment and see what you're capable of.]

The Sorting Hat gave a strange laugh and said succinctly: "Slytherin."

This answer surprised him quite a bit. To be honest, Edmund didn't care much about the Sorting Ceremony, but he did prefer Ravenclaw. Just as he had said before, Ravenclaw's blue suited his eyes better, and if Edmund had to choose, he would definitely choose Ravenclaw.

[Don't be ridiculous, Edmund. While you are indeed exceptionally intelligent and possess a Ravenclaw-like neuroticism... you are by no means a scholar, much less averse to study! You have no respect for knowledge, so how can you possibly go to Ravenclaw?]

If this is a provocation, then the old man is sure to succeed. Edmund rebelliously snorted and retorted:

[That's a very harsh thing to say. If I'm to be rejected by a house simply because I don't meet its criteria, does that mean I have the ambition that Slytherin admires?]

"Ah, not exactly." The hat gave a vague, evasive answer, avoiding the topic of "ambition." "If you were still Van Helsing, the Witcher, and passionate about adventure, you should go to Gryffindor; if you were still King Solomon, proud of your wisdom, you should indeed go to Ravenclaw."

"Of course, Paladin Roland will go to Hufflepuff." The hat paused, then added in a flat, emotionless tone, "The First Son, Cain, will go to Slytherin."

The last sentence was spoken quickly and urgently by the person in the hat, as if afraid of waking something. After going around in circles, the person in the hat finally got to the point:

And now, Edmund, you're just like any other small but cunning freshman. You've picked up a bit of every house's qualities, seemingly fit in anywhere, yet not quite right for any of them.

Edmund was indeed thoroughly pleased by it.

[Oh? If you're willing to go anywhere, then why Slytherin?]

The old man chuckled twice, and in a very low, mysterious voice, told him the answer:

My experience tells me that's where you'll find the most fun.

The hat, made by Godric Gryffindor himself, trembled as if trying to suppress a laugh. Its cheerfulness seemed less like that of a magical object and more like that of Gryffindor himself, a man who loved adventure and anticipated all sorts of fun.

Edmund was immediately infected by this joy and convinced by it.

Clearly, his time spent in the branch school far exceeded everyone's expectations. A familiar voice, forgetting to lower its tone, said, "Could it really be Azkaban?"

Professor McGonagall immediately gave a low shout of "Silence!", but her body language betrayed her suspicion. Just then, the Sorting Hat cleared its throat strangely and sang loudly:

"Slytherin—!"

Amid James Porter's disappointed mutter, "This is not much different from Azkaban," Edmund jumped off the stool, smiling again as he opened his arms wide like a triumphant bird.

The three houses other than Slytherin clapped sparsely for him, while cheers erupted from the Slytherin table. One of the upperclassmen with light blond hair gave him a reserved, insincere smile and patted Edmund on the shoulder as a gesture of friendliness after he sat down.

Edmund ignored him, staring intently in Dumbledore's direction. The old man seemed to have been watching him for a while earlier, but now he looked away, a slight smile on his face as he watched the next young wizard go up on stage, seemingly having little opinion of "Edmund of Slytherin".

Tsk.

The fact that he wasn't being given extra attention or wariness actually made Edmund a little unhappy. Just then, the older student next to him spoke up.

"I've never seen any freshman sorting process take this long. If you didn't actually look like a typical Slytherin, I'd suspect that ridiculous old hat had finally broken down and was no longer usable."

How should I put it? This person seems to have tried very hard to put down his airs—but if others can still sense that he has an air about him, doesn't that just show that his acting skills are not up to par and he is still extremely arrogant?

Edmund glanced back at him and smiled knowingly. The expression was very "know-it-all," very "sophisticated," and very affected.

But it was precisely this meaningless social skill that piqued the interest of the light blond, and the upperclassmen, as if they had found a secret code with Edmund, became even more interested in him.

"I am Lucius Malfoy." Lucius fiddled with the gleaming prefect's badge on his chest. "If you're in trouble, you can ask me for help. Mr. Soman, you'll soon realize that Slytherin is very different from other houses, and you should be very proud to have been chosen by Slytherin."

Lucius paused for a moment, searching his mind for information related to "Soman." Then, his expression changed slightly.

"How...how should I address Deputy Minister Oscar Soman?"

Edmund was so bored that he played along with the other person's performance. He smiled contentedly, like a smug little boy.

"Oscar Soman is my father," Edmund said simply. "My blood father."

This statement is actually quite strange, but considering that the Soman family is also a pure-blood family, the oddity is also quite reasonable.

Lucius Malfoy, unfazed by this, blinked as if deep in thought. When he spoke again, his tone was more than ten times more intimate than before.

This was also within Edmund's expectations. He exchanged pleasantries with Lucius, listening to him introduce the Malfoy family's noble lineage and distinguished status.

Just as Lucius was recommending some desserts to Edmund, the girl sitting opposite him gasped sharply. The indifferent expression that always graced her beautiful face was replaced by astonishment. Had Lucius not called out "Narcissa!", Edmund suspected she would have stood up and unleashed at least three curses at whoever had angered her.

"What's wrong, Miss Black?" Edmund asked kindly. "Are you unhappy with Mr. Black's placement in the ward?"

Just moments ago, Sirius Black, who claimed to be able to break with tradition, was actually sorted into Gryffindor. Now, pale-faced and laughing, he sat down at the Gryffindor table, amidst a mixture of bewilderment and celebration.

Edmund's words were undoubtedly adding fuel to the fire. Had he not been a foreigner, Narcissa's curse would likely have already been unleashed. Even knowing that Edmund's identity was extraordinary, Narcissa still glared at him coldly before getting up from the table.

"..." Lucius's gaze followed her departing figure. "...She wasn't feeling well tonight."

This seemingly considerate remark made Edmund raise an eyebrow, realizing that the two must have some kind of relationship—a close one—otherwise, given Malfoy's snobbish and slick behavior, he would have at least said a few sarcastic remarks about the Black family.

Edmund readily changed the subject. After that, Lily Evans and James Potter were both sorted into Gryffindor, prompting Edmund to raise an eyebrow. Gryffindor has its share of fun, doesn't it?

Severus Snape was sorted into Slytherin as he had hoped. Lucius was as friendly as ever to Snape, but Snape completely ignored his classmate, as if he had never remembered sitting in the same box as Edmund.

Fine, let's just say he's displaying the haughty air of Slytherin—Edmund is happy for people who aren't interested to ignore him.

The Sorting Ceremony was completed in no time, and there were nine new Slytherins this year. Dumbledore stood up and delivered a pre-dinner address that could only be described as "feigning madness." Then the food rushed onto the table, and its variety far exceeded Edmund's expectations of British cuisine.

……

But after the meal, Edmund had already decided on the subject of his first letter to his mother:

Mommy, I'm hungry, time for food!