第二章拉文克劳

Professor McGonagall nodded ：Do not be alarmed if the Sorting Hat takes its time with you. It can be... deliberate, with older students."

The Great Hall was so quiet that you could hear the tiny crackle of the burning candles. Wen Zheng stood before the staff table, facing four long tables and hundreds of curious eyes. Then her gaze passed over the Gryffindor table and landed on the Hufflepuff table. And in that very moment, she saw him. A tall black-haired boy sat in the middle of the Hufflepuff table, his head slightly tilted as he talked to the person next to him. He wore a neat school robe, his tie was properly tied, and his brown hair had a slight wave, as if gently touched by the wind. The candlelight of the Great Hall fell on the outline of his face and gave him a faint warm gold. There was a slight smile at the corner of his mouth as he spoke—not showy, but sincere, and even his eyes were warm. Wen Zheng could not explain why her gaze stayed on him for that extra second. Maybe it was because, in the whole hall, only his way of sitting made her feel "comfortable"—he sat there like a quiet, steady tree, its roots deep in the soil, getting along just right with everyone around him. Then the boy turned his head too, his gaze looking straight toward the open space at the front of the hall, and straight into Wen Zheng. He was slightly taken aback for a moment, then nodded at her with a very light smile, and in his gray-blue eyes there was some kind of quiet, kind light.

"Hmm... another older one. And from the Muggle world, no less."

Is that a problem?

"Not at all. It just makes you more interesting. Let me see... A great deal of knowledge here, but not for its own sake. You value understanding. You want to know how things work, why they work."

"But there's also courage. Not the loud kind, but the steady kind. You would do what's right even when it costs you. And loyalty... yes, you would stand by your friends through fire."

"You hide yourself well, child. There's a wall around you, but it's not made of stone. It's made of... self-containment. You don't like to need people, do you?"

"Ravenclaw would suit your mind... but Gryffindor could use that quiet courage... Hmm..."

I would be honored to be in either. But if I may... I think I would do best where I can learn in my own way.

"Ah, a true Ravenclaw after all. Very well. RAVENCLAW!"

The last word was shouted, and applause broke out in the hall. A cheer erupted from the Ravenclaw table. Wen Zheng took off the hat, nodded to Professor McGonagall, and walked toward the long table decorated in blue and bronze. Someone made room for her, and a girl who looked like a prefect held out her hand: "Welcome to Ravenclaw. I'm Penelope Clearwater."

The feast began. Golden plates produced all kinds of food: roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, peas, mashed potatoes, gravy... Wen Zheng took a little vegetables and a piece of fish, eating slowly and quietly. She was not used to such a rich dinner. The girl sitting next to her was named Lisa Turpin, a third-year, who was chattering away introducing all sorts of Ravenclaw rules to her.

"Don't ever try to get into the common room without answering the eagle's riddle properly. It'll just make you feel stupid."（“千万别想不回答问题就进公共休息室，那只会让你觉得自己很蠢。”）

Headmaster Dumbledore stood up to give his speech. He had white hair and a silver beard, wore half-moon glasses, and there was a strange, reassuring power in his voice. He announced the news about Dementors stationed at the school, reminding students not to leave the grounds, and added that "they will not tell apart the one they are hunting and the one who gets in their way."

The Ravenclaw common room was a circular room with a deep blue ceiling covered in stars. Bookshelves rose from the floor all the way to the dome, several large round tables were scattered about, and comfortable armchairs gathered around the fireplace. The air smelled of parchment and old pages, with a faint fresh scent like mint mixed with cedar. Wen Zheng found her room in the girls' dormitory. Her trunk had already been brought in by house-elves and placed beside a four-poster bed. She opened her suitcase and stacked her books one by one on the shelf. While shelving them, her hand paused on a thick, old book. It was The Science of the Mind in the Magical World: A Brief Introduction, which she had picked up from Flourish and Blotts. It had been in the most inconspicuous corner of the shop, its cover covered in dust. She flipped through a few pages and found it discussed some very basic theories of emotional magic, but the whole book was less than two hundred pages and was classified as "minor academic." She had asked the shop owner if there were more books on magical psychology, and the owner thought for a moment, then pointed to that corner: "They're all there. Who reads this stuff these days?"

Wen Zheng placed that book in the most visible spot on the shelf, then tucked her mother's letter under her pillow and changed into pajamas. The rain outside was still falling, pattering softly against the glass. Wen Zheng leaned against the headboard and finally opened her mother's letter.

The letter was short. Her mother's handwriting was thin and upright: "Zhengzheng, Mum doesn't know what magic is, but Mum knows who you are. At your new school, if you meet someone you like, smile more; if something makes you sad, write to Mum. Remember to eat breakfast. Mum loves you."Wen Zheng folded the letter and put it back under her pillow. She lay down and looked at the faintly flickering stars on the ceiling, and suddenly felt a sting in her nose. But she did not cry. She just closed her eyes, and on her first night in a castle in a foreign land, she heard her own heartbeat, beat by beat, like some quiet drum that refused to give up. Before she fell asleep, the smile of that Hufflepuff boy flashed through her mind again. Just a flash, like a rain streak fleeting past the window. She turned over, pulled the corner of the blanket up to her chin, and soon fell asleep.

And at that moment, in the Hufflepuff common room, Cedric Diggory was sitting by the fireplace, his broom maintenance kit in his hands, yet he had not started working. His roommate Eddie Carmichael sat across from him doing homework and looked up at him: "What's wrong? You've been staring at that broom for ten minutes."

"Nothing. Just thinking about Quidditch practice tomorrow."

Cedric did not argue. He just put away the broom cleaning cloth and stood up. He walked to the window of the common room. The rain was still falling, water trails crisscrossing the glass. He had indeed looked at her during the Sorting. That quiet girl sat on the high stool, her back very straight, like a small tree that would not sway even in the wind. The Sorting Hat stayed on her head for quite a while, and her expression was calm from beginning to end—only her fingers moved slightly under her robe. Cedric did not know why he had noticed these details. Maybe because her quietness stood out so clearly in a hall of hundreds of people.

I'm going to bed."