Chapter One: The Sorting
The Great Hall of Hogwarts buzzed with anticipation. The Sorting Ceremony was always a highlight of the school year, a moment when new students were introduced to the ancient houses of Hogwarts. The enchanted ceiling reflected the darkening sky outside, and the flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the faces of the gathered students.
At the head of the hall, Professor McGonagall stood beside the old, tattered Sorting Hat, which rested on a simple wooden stool. The first years were lined up nervously, waiting for their names to be called. But this year, there was something different. Among the nervous first years was a single older boy, standing apart from the rest—a transfer student, a rare sight at Hogwarts.
Michael Murdock stood tall, his dark eyes scanning the room with a calm, almost detached interest. He was not the typical nervous first year. As a third-year student, Michael was already familiar with the magical world, but this would be his first experience at Hogwarts. The whispers among the students were almost palpable—who was this boy who arrived with such an air of mystery?
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, bringing the hall to silence. She began calling the names of the first years, and one by one, they approached the stool, placed the Sorting Hat on their heads, and were sorted into their houses. Cheers erupted from each table as the students joined their new houses, but all the while, the older students couldn't help but glance at the enigmatic figure waiting his turn.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Professor McGonagall spoke, "Murdock, Michael."
The room fell even quieter, if that were possible. Michael stepped forward with a calm, measured stride. He sat on the stool, and as the Sorting Hat was placed on his head, the whispers intensified. Everyone was eager to see where this unusual new student would be placed.
Inside his mind, Michael heard the voice of the Sorting Hat, soft and probing.
"Well, well, well… what do we have here?" the Hat mused. "Very interesting… yes, indeed. Quite the mind you have, young Murdock. A genius, they might say, with an eidetic memory, and such a mastery of the mind arts at your age. But there's something more, isn't there? Something darker… ah, I see it now. A connection to Death itself, a power that makes even Dementors wary. You could be great, you know. Powerful… but where to place you?"
Michael remained silent, his thoughts guarded, but the Hat continued to probe deeper, sensing the unique blend of abilities and the underlying determination that defined him.
"Gryffindor would benefit from your bravery, but no… that's not quite right. Ravenclaw could certainly nurture your intellect, but you're not just seeking knowledge. You're seeking something more… something hidden. Hufflepuff's loyalty and fairness? No, no, you have your own path to walk, and it's not bound by others' expectations. Ah… yes. Slytherin. Ambition, cunning, a desire for power… and a certain disregard for rules when they stand in your way. You'll do well in Slytherin, I think. But are you ready for what that means?"
The Hat paused, as if waiting for Michael to respond, but he remained still, his mind closed off, unreadable even to the ancient artifact.
"Slytherin!" the Hat finally declared.
The word echoed through the hall, followed by a mix of cheers and murmurs from the Slytherin table. The other houses looked on with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. Michael removed the Hat and stood, his expression unreadable as he made his way to the Slytherin table. The students there made room for him, and as he took his seat, he couldn't help but notice the lingering glances from the other tables.
Draco Malfoy, sitting nearby, eyed Michael with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. "A transfer student, and already in Slytherin," Draco said, his tone laced with both approval and a hint of challenge. "You must be something special."
Michael simply nodded, offering no further explanation. He was used to the attention, the speculation. It didn't matter to him what the others thought. He had his own reasons for being here, and nothing would distract him from his goal.
As the Sorting Ceremony continued, Michael glanced up at the staff table, where Professor Dumbledore sat, his piercing blue eyes fixed on him. There was a moment of silent understanding between them, though Michael wasn't sure what to make of it yet. Dumbledore's gaze held a mixture of curiosity, caution, and perhaps something else—a recognition of the power that Michael possessed.
The ceremony concluded, and the feast began. The Slytherin students welcomed Michael with varying degrees of warmth, some eager to make a powerful new ally, others wary of the unknown. But Michael remained distant, observing more than engaging, his mind already working through the mysteries that awaited him at Hogwarts.
As the night wore on and the students began to retire to their common rooms, Michael followed his new housemates down to the dungeons. The Slytherin common room was grand and dark, its walls lined with green and silver. Michael felt a strange sense of belonging here, though he knew better than to let his guard down. Slytherin was a house of ambition, and alliances could shift as quickly as the tides.
In the solitude of his new dormitory, Michael lay awake, his mind racing. The Sorting Hat had seen through to the core of him, recognized the power and the darkness that lay within. But it hadn't revealed all of Michael's secrets. There were things even the Hat couldn't fully understand—things Michael himself was still discovering.
As he drifted into a light sleep, Michael knew one thing for certain: his time at Hogwarts would be anything but ordinary. And as the shadows in the room seemed to shift and swirl around him, he felt the familiar presence of something ancient, something connected to Death itself, watching over him. It was a presence that had always been with him, guiding him, protecting him. And now, it would help him navigate the treacherous path ahead.
Hogwarts was a place of learning, but for Michael Murdock, it was also a place of secrets—a place where he would uncover the truth about his powers, his past, and his future. And as the darkness in the room deepened, he couldn't help but smile. The game had begun.