September 1 came faster than I expected, and now I was strolling through King's Cross Station, my luggage trailing behind me. I'd asked to be dropped off early—about half an hour ago—just to avoid the chaotic rush of last-minute families herding their children through the station was its usual hive of activity. The vaulted ceilings arched high above, while the departure boards flickered, listing endless trains to destinations that didn't concern me. The crowds moved quickly, people with hurried expressions, pulling suitcases and chattering on phones, Finding the entrance was easy enough, though I took my time. I wasn't exactly in a hurry to throw myself at a brick wall. I stood between platforms 9 and 10, looking around at the sea of travelers, some of whom cast me strange looks—probably wondering what a young girl was doing standing alone with luggage. I ignored them.
As I approached the wall, I couldn't help but wonder about the charms placed on it. Would anyone notice if a kid suddenly disappeared through solid brick? I mean, really, what's the logic? Is there some kind of magical non notice field, or are these people just too preoccupied with their boring lives to care? I'd spotted an old woman, staring at me like I was a lost puppy, but as I got closer to the barrier, she shook her head, blinked, and looked away like I wasn't even there. Well, that answers that.
Passing through the wall was easier than walking down the station itself, just walked right through it. I emerged on the other side, stepping into Platform 9.
The Hogwarts Express stood on the tracks, gleaming red and waiting for the students to board, its steam curling lazily into the air. Not wanting to linger, I waved my hand, and my trunk lifted effortlessly into the air, floating a bit from the ground as I headed toward the train. As I passed by, I overheard snippets of conversation—promises of keeping up with schoolwork, reminders not to forget anything important, and reassurances that everything would be fine. There was a sense of excitement and nervous energy in the air, with both students and parents on edge, preparing for the year ahead.
I kept to myself, moving past the families. The train's door was open, and I stepped inside, feeling the cool rush of air from the corridor. Ignoring the noise behind me, I chose a compartment near the back of the train and settled inside. The moment I sat down, the quiet wrapped around me like a comforting blanket. I changed out of my t-shirt and shorts, slipping into more appropriate wizarding robes, and pulled out my Potions book to pass the time. The platform outside was still relatively empty, so I had some peace.
For about half an hour, I read undisturbed, occasionally glancing out the window as the station grew busier. More families arrived, children and parents rushing about, the sounds of laughter, excitement, and some anxious goodbyes filling the air. I spotted the Weasley family in the growing crowd. Mrs. Weasley was fussing over her children, straightening their robes and smoothing down stray hairs.
Just as I turned back to my book, the door to my compartment slid open. I glanced up, expecting to tell whoever it was to find another compartment, but then I froze.
"Jamie?" I whispered, barely audible, the name slipping from my lips before I could stop it.
The boy standing in the doorway had a startled look on his face, his hand mid-motion as he tried to push a birdcage through the door. He blinked, his mouth half-open in an apology. I took a closer look—no, this wasn't Jamie. This boy was smaller, younger, and his clothes hung off him like they'd been borrowed from a much larger person. But still, the resemblance was striking. The messy black hair, the round glasses, and those vivid green eyes… so similar. But there was something different—no freckles like Jamie had, and an air of uncertainty that Jamie never had.
I took a deep breath, pulling myself together. This wasn't him. My emotions threatened to get the better of me, but I forced them down. This was Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived.
Harry seemed unsure whether to enter or not, hesitating in the doorway. "Sorry," he mumbled, his voice soft. He made a move to close the door, clearly thinking he'd intruded.
"Wait," I said quickly, stopping him before he could leave. "There's plenty of space. You can sit here if you like."
He blinked at me, clearly surprised by the offer, but didn't argue. He shuffled inside, carefully placing the birdcage on the seat next to him before trying to drag his heavy trunk into the compartment. It didn't budge.
I stood up and walked over to him. "Here, let me," I said, reaching for the trunk.
"No, it's okay, I can—" he started to say, but before he could finish, I lifted the trunk easily and slid it under the seat. He stared at me, wide-eyed.
"Uh... thanks," he said, still looking a bit shocked by the ease with which I'd moved it.
I chuckled lightly. "It's nothing," I said, waving off his thanks as I sat back down. I extended my hand toward him. "I'm Estelle, but you can call me Elle."
He hesitated for a moment before taking my hand. "I'm Harry. Just Harry." His cheeks pink.
"Alright, Just Harry," I teased, and he gave me a shy smile.
He didn't immediately let go of my hand, which I found slightly amusing. After a moment, I raised an eyebrow and glanced at our still-clasped hands. Realizing what he was doing, he flushed and quickly dropped my hand, looking a bit flustered.
"Sorry," he muttered, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.
I shrugged it off. "No worries."
He seemed to relax a bit after that, though I noticed him stealing glances at me, as if expecting me to bombard him with questions. I could tell he was expecting to be gawked at or asked about his scar, but I wasn't about to do that. Still, I didn't miss the faint tension in his posture, as if he was waiting for the inevitable barrage of questions about who he was.
The voices outside the window drew both our attention. I glanced out to see the Weasley family again. Harry was staring at them with an expression —something like longing mixed with curiosity. His gaze lingered on Mrs. Weasley as she fussed over her children, her warm smile and doting manner clearly striking a chord with him.
Catching me watching him, Harry blurted out, "Is your family… also magical?"
He winced immediately after the question left his mouth, as if he'd asked something inappropriate.
I considered how to answer. "Sort of," I said. "My aunt, who I live with, is a Squib. So you could say there's some magic around." Not the whole truth but still not a lie.
Harry tilted his head, clearly unfamiliar with the term. "A Squib?"
I nodded. "Yeah, a Squib. They're born into magical families but don't have any magic themselves."
Harry's eyes widened. "That sounds… awful."
I gave a small shrug. "It is what it is. She's fine with it, I guess." Now, that is a lie. I glanced at him. "What about you?"
Harry shifted uncomfortably, looking down at his lap. His voice was much smaller when he answered. "I live with my aunt and uncle. They're... they're not magical at all."
"So, first year at Hogwarts?" I asked, giving him an easy smile.
He turned away from the window and nodded. "Yeah, it is. First year. What about you?"
"Same here. First year," I said, leaning back in my seat. "So we're in the same boat. No idea what's waiting for us once we get there."
He seemed a little surprised at that. "Oh… I guess I just thought you already knew everything. You know, with the whole... magic thing."
I chuckled. "Nope."
Harry smiled a bit at that, though there was still a trace of uncertainty in his expression. "What do you think it'll be like? ."
I grinned. "Well, there's one thing I've been thinking about—what house l'll be in. Have you thought about that yet?"
"What were the names of the houses? I forgot" he asked.
"Wait… you don't know about the Hogwarts houses?" I asked, feigning exaggerated shock. "How are you going to survive?"
He looked a little sheepish. "No one's really explained it to me."
I gave him a teasing look. "Well, good thing you met me then. You've got four houses at Hogwarts, and where you get sorted matters a lot." I leaned in slightly, as if sharing a grand secret. "Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin." I gave him a brief view of each house without before made assumptions, and also told him about the rivarly between gryffindor and slytherin.
For the rest of the ride, Harry and I talked about Hogwarts. I explained the different classes, and quiditch a few other things , keeping the conversation light and fun. Harry seemed more at ease as we chatted, laughing a bit more. The time passed quickly, and before we knew it, the trolley witch came by with her cart of snacks.
"Anything from the trolley, dears?" she asked with a smile.
I stood up before Harry could even think to reach for his money. "We'll take some of them" I said, grabbing a few Pumpkin Pasties, Chocolate Frogs.
"Wait, I can pay—" he started, fumbling with his pockets.
"Absolutely not," I interrupted, shooting him a glare. "This is my treat. Besides, I've got plenty of money."
"But—"
"No buts," I said, cutting him off again. "I'm not letting you pay. Consider it a gift."
He looked like he was about to argue, but I raised an eyebrow, daring him to say something else. He wisely kept quiet, though he did give me that wide-eyed look again, like he couldn't quite believe what was happening.
I rolled my eyes. "Stop looking at me like that, or I'll hex you, I swear."
He laughed, finally letting the argument drop. Then, his eyes drifted to the pack of Chocolate Frogs in his lap. "What are these?" he asked, holding one up as if it might come to life in his hand. "They're not really frogs, are they?"
Taking another bite of my Pumpkin Pastie, I grinned. "No, they're chocolate. But they do jump if you're not quick enough, so be careful. Also, they come with cards—famous witches and wizards. It's a thing to collect them." I explained, since i had brought some of the sweets last time l went to diagon alley.
Harry looked intrigued as he carefully unwrapped the frog. The second he opened the box, the frog tried to leap out of his hands, and Harry fumbled to catch it, clumsily trying to hold it still. I couldn't help but chuckle as he wrestled with the enchanted chocolate, eventually biting its head off to stop it from escaping.
He glanced at me sheepishly, chewing a bit before fishing out the card inside. His eyes lit up. "So this is Dumbledore!" he exclaimed, flipping the card over to read the back. His face full of curiosity as he scanned the words, absorbed in learning about the headmaster.
But then, when he turned the card back around, he gasped. "He's gone!" He waved the card in the air, looking slightly panicked, as if he'd just lost Dumbledore himself.
"They don't really stay there forever," I explained, amused by his reaction. "He'll come back. Maybe in a minute, maybe next week. Depends on his mood, I suppose."
Harry blinked at the card, his expression full of wonder. It was oddly charming to watch his childish joy. For a brief second, the sight tugged at a memory, one I hadn't let myself think about in a long time—of someone else, just as wide-eyed, just as full of wonder. I swallowed down the feeling and looked away, focusing on my pastie to ground myself again.
I glanced back at Harry, still staring at the empty card with fascination, completely oblivious to my momentary lapse.
As I bit into a Pumpkin Pastie, my mind wandered, thinking about how different things already were. By sitting with Harry, I'd probably changed everything. In the books, Ron had been his first friend—his introduction to the wizarding world. Now, I was here, throwing a wrench into the whole story. But I shrugged it off. Harry would meet Ron soon enough in Gryffindor. They'd share a dormitory and bond over near-death experiences, in the upcoming years.
Besides, it wasn't like I was trying to mess up the story. Things would change just because I existed here. It's already started.
We'd already had a brief run-in with Hermione earlier. She'd barged into the compartment with her frizzy hair and bossy attitude, as expected. First she was asking about a lost toad but after noticing harry, the girl started rattling off everything she'd read about Harry. I bit my lip, resisting the urge to laugh at harry's expense. But since no one had been trying any magic at the time, so she didn't linger. I had politely—okay, more like bluntly—asked her to leave after she got a bit too enthusiastic with her "Did you know?" trivia.
I shot Harry a look after she left, half-expecting him to make some self-pitying comment about not knowing any magic. Sure enough, his shoulders slumped a little, and that look of self-consciousness crept into his face.
"Don't even think about it," I said, narrowing my eyes.
"What?" he asked, blinking innocently, but I knew that look—he was about to say something self-deprecating.
"If you start whining about not being able to do magic yet, I swear to Merlin, I'll bloody burn your hair off."
His mouth snapped shut, and he gave me a wide-eyed look, half-shocked, half-amused. Honestly, it was a bit cute—like a lost puppy trying to figure out where it was supposed to go. I bit back another sarcastic comment, not really wanting to crush the poor kid's spirit. He was nervous enough as it was.
Instead, I flicked my wand and levitated a Chocolate Frog toward him, offering it like a peace offering. He grinned, that shy, awkward smile of his, and took it. "Thanks," he said, sounding a little awed.
I waved him off, trying to ignore the small, warm feeling in my chest. "It's just chocolate, Just Harry. Don't make it weird."
We both turned back to the snacks, and I caught him sneaking a glance at me every now and then. His messy hair flopped into his face, and he brushed it back absently. Honestly, for someone who was supposed to be the Boy Who Lived, he was a scrawny little thing, wasn't he? I watched him for a moment longer, feeling a weird mix of amusement and protectiveness. he's too bloody cute for his own good, I thought.
The door to our compartment slid open with an obnoxious clatter, and in strode none other than the poster child for pureblood privilege himself—Draco Malfoy. I didn't even need to see his face to know it was him. The air practically reeked of arrogance. He stood there, flanked by two beefy goons who I recognized as Crabbe and Goyle, and stared straight at Harry, not noticing me.
"Is it true?" Malfoy sneered, his voice dripping with entitlement. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"
I glanced at Harry. Even with his scar mostly hidden beneath his bangs, I guess those bright green eyes of his were enough of a giveaway.
"Yes," Harry answered, his voice cautious as his gaze flicked from Malfoy to the thugs on either side of him.
Malfoy didn't waste any time. He waved lazily at the two hulking idiots by his side. "Oh, this is Crabbe and Goyle," he said dismissively, as though they were merely accessories. "And I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." He extended his hand to Harry like he was offering a rare privilege.
I couldn't help myself. "And my name's Bond. James Bond," I muttered under my breath, stifling a laugh. Harry glanced at me, and looked a bit lost, as if asking what he should do. I shrugged, leaving him to figure it out.
After a moment's hesitation, Harry stood up and shook Malfoy's hand. "Harry Potter," he said, his voice polite but wary.
Malfoy puffed up his chest, clearly pleased with himself. "I think you'll find it beneficial to be my acquaintance," he said, speaking as though he were offering Harry a position in some exclusive club. "My father is a member of the Hogwarts board of governors." He gave a haughty little nod as if that sealed the deal.
And then, he finally noticed me. His eyes flicked in my direction, his face turning slightly pink. He looked me up and down as if searching for something, before giving me a small, flustered nod. I raised an eyebrow, not bothering to hide my amusement.
Clearing his throat, Malfoy turned his attention back to Harry. "I hope you get sorted into Slytherin," he added, with a smug smile. And just like that, without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and strode out of the compartment, Crabbe and Goyle lumbering after him.
Once the door slid shut behind them, I let out a low chuckle. "Well, that was dramatic."
Harry looked at me, his expression a mixture of confusion and amusement. "What was that all about?"
I leaned back in my seat, grinning. "That, Just Harry" I started, "was Draco Malfoy. Imagine the most entitled, spoiled, arrogant—" I paused, clamping my mouth shut as I realized Harry was watching me intently "—git you've ever met. Thinks he's better than everyone because of his bloodline. Pureblood snobbery at its finest. His daddy's rich, powerful, and runs half the wizarding world in his mind. So, of course, he thinks the sun shines out of his own—" I stopped myself again, my teeth grinding as I desperately tried to keep it clean. "—rear end."
Harry stared at me open mouthed, before his eyes flicked toward the door, where Malfoy had just disappeared. "He seemed... I don't know... odd."
"Odd?" I snorted. "That's putting it nicely." I leaned back in my seat, rolling my eyes. "He's just someone who likes to throw his family name around to get what he wants."
Harry gave a small nod, his expression still a bit perplexed. "I wasn't sure what to do when he offered his hand," he admitted quietly.
"You did fine," I reassured him. "Don't worry," I said with a grin. "You'll get used to him. Or, at the very least, learn to ignore him."
Harry laughed at that, and for a moment, the tension in the compartment eased. As annoying as Malfoy was, I couldn't help but feel a little protective over Harry. The kid had no idea what he was walking into, and there was a part of me that wanted to make sure he didn't get tangled up in all the wrong things—or people. God help me, I thought, mentally scolding myself. I'm starting to care. This is not good.
Harry sat back, seeming to absorb my words, though he still looked a little overwhelmed. Before I could add anything more, the door slid open again, and Harry jumped slightly. This time, Hermione stood there, her face flushed from rushing down the train. I raised an eyebrow at her. "No one taught you to knock?" I said, my tone sharp but amused.
Hermione's face went beet red. Her eyes flashed with annoyance, but she didn't retort. Instead, she turned to Harry, ignoring me entirely. "You should put your Hogwarts robes on. We're almost there," she said, her voice a little too clipped. And just as quickly, she left the compartment, closing the door behind her with a firm snap.
I couldn't help but laugh as the door clicked shut. "She looked like an angry cat," I said, picturing her flustered expression.
Harry grinned, clearly amused by the mental image. "Did you have to do that?"
"Absolutely," I replied, smirking. "It was fun. Besides, I'm doing her a favor. She needs to loosen up."
Before either of us could say more, a voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken separately."
We got to our feet and quickly changed into our robes—or in my case, just slipped on the outer layer over my clothes. The train had slowed down significantly, and by the time it finally came to a stop, students were already pushing their way out. In the chaos, I lost sight of Harry as we were all swept off the train.
Stepping out onto the platform, the cold hit me like a slap in the face. It was bloody freezing. My breath puffed out in little clouds, and I quickly rubbed my gloved hands together for warmth. But with all the students rushing around, the cold was bearable—just barely.
A large, bobbing lantern appeared through the sea of students, and a loud, cheerful voice called out, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"
I turned to see Hagrid towering above the crowd. Fuck, he was even bigger in person. He looked like a walking tree, his massive frame cutting through the group of students as he waved us over.
"C'mon, follow me—any more firs' years? Mind yer step now! Firs' years, follow me!" he called out, his booming voice carrying easily over the noise of the crowd.
I winced slightly at the volume. How the bloody hell is he so cheerful in this freezing weather? I thought as I exhaled a cold breath, watching it mist in the air. Rubbing my hands together again, the group of first years followed Hagrid like a line of ducklings behind him.
He led us down a steep path that opened up to the edge of a massive, dark lake. On the shore, tiny wooden boats bobbed in the water, waiting for us. It was almost impossible to see much in the darkness, but the faint glow of lanterns on the boats cast a shimmering reflection on the surface of the lake.
I wound up sharing a boat with two identical Indian twins and another boy with messy black hair. I glanced around in the dim light, trying to spot Harry, but it was hard to make out faces. After a moment, I spotted him sitting in a boat with Ron, Hermione, and some other boy. Ron was chatting excitedly with Harry, his hands waving as he spoke. At one point, I saw Harry sweep back his bangs. It looked like they were already hitting it off.
As the boats glided further across the lake, the fog parted slightly, revealing the castle in all its ethereal glory. Hogwarts stood tall and timeless against the night sky, its towers piercing the dark, and its countless windows flickering with warm golden light. The reflection of the castle shimmered on the still surface of the water, making it look as though the entire world was bathed in magic.
And it wasn't just a trick of the eyes—magic was everywhere, swirling around the castle like an invisible current. I could feel it, stronger now that we were so close. The air practically hummed with it, ancient and powerful, as if the very stones of the castle had absorbed centuries of spells and enchantments. My own magic responded in kind, thrumming beneath my skin, resonating with the castle's aura. It was as though my magic recognized Hogwarts—like it was welcoming me.
Every flicker of light from the castle windows seemed to pulse with life, and the air itself was charged with an almost tangible force. It wasn't just a school—it was alive, brimming with magic, as though every inch of it held memories and secrets from ages long past.
It was beautiful, in a way that was both overwhelming and serene. The castle stood like a beacon in the night, and I couldn't take my eyes off it.
As we approached the dark tunnel beneath the castle, the magic grew heavier, almost intoxicating. The boats led us into the tunnel, and soon we arrived at the small, dimly lit harbor where we clambered out, the wood creaking beneath our feet. I could still my own magic tugging at my senses. It was buzzing with excitement, as if it too was eager to explore. Much like me.
I heard Hagrid bellowing about a lost toad behind me, but my focus was entirely on the overwhelming feeling the castle seemed to give off. We walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the enormous oak front doors.
The doors swung open at once, and there she was—Minnie in her emerald robes, her usual stern expression firmly in place. Her face could've been carved from stone. Stern bitch face, I thought, suppressing a smirk.
"Thank you, Hagrid," she said curtly, her eyes sweeping over us as she took us off his hands. She led us through the castle, herding us like sheep, until we were packed into an empty chamber just off the Great Hall.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she began, her voice as sharp as her appearance. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses." She continued with her speech, but I was barely listening, tuning her out as my gaze wandered around the room.
There were moving portraits all around us—living might not be the right word, but they were definitely animated, bustling with life as they shifted in their frames. The stone walls towered above us, stretching impossibly high. I found myself wondering just how much maintenance the place must need—thousands of years old, yet still standing strong, brimming with magic.
Then, McGonagall swept out of the chamber, and I heard Ron speaking nervously from ahead. "Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I reckon he was joking." His voice trembled slightly, and it wasn't clear if he was trying to reassure himself or Harry.
The black-haired boy I had shared a boat with let out a derisive snort. "A test?" he muttered, barely hiding his disdain. "Weasley's clearly been fooled by his idiot brothers. I doubt we'll be besting trolls the minute we walk in the door." He glanced at Ron with a look of barely concealed contempt.
I leaned toward him with a smirk. "Oh? And what do you think the test will be?"
He jumped a bit surprised, then turned his cold gaze on me. After a brief pause. "I don't know, but it won't be nearly as dramatic as that ginger buffoon seems to think." he said, sneering slightly as he nodded in Ron's direction.
I laughed quietly, finding his deadpan delivery more amusing than it should have been. His disdain for Ron was almost comical. Ron, oblivious, continued rambling nervously, clearly trying to reassure himself more than anyone else.
Before I could say anything more, I noticed Harry looking around, his eyes scanning the room nervously. Just as he saw me, he opened his mouth to speak, when a chorus of whispers spread through the chamber, twenty or so ghosts suddenly glided through the back wall, their translucent forms floating effortlessly through the stone as if it didn't exist. They moved in a swirl of conversation, not even bothering to notice us at first.
One of the ghosts, a cheerful-looking friar, was in the middle of an animated conversation with a tall, severe-looking ghost who cut him off. "My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves enough chances already? He gives us all a bad name, and you know he's not even a proper ghost—"
The taller ghost paused, as if finally noticing us for the first time. His eyes swept over the group of first-years, mock surprise written all over his face. "What are you all doing here?"
No one answered, too stunned by the sight of the ghosts to speak.
"New students!" the Friar exclaimed, beaming at us. His friendly smile lit up his plump, pale face. "About to be sorted, I assume?" A few students nodded meekly, clearly overwhelmed.
"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" he added enthusiastically. "My old house, you know."
Before the conversation could continue, McGonagall's sharp voice cut through the air. "Move along now, the Sorting Ceremony is about to start."
The ghosts, drifted away through the walls while still talking among themselves, though the Friar gave us one last smile as he floated through the stone.
McGonagall had returned, looking as stern as ever. "Now, form a line," she instructed, her voice brisk. "And follow me."
We shuffled into line, everyone quiet with nerves. McGonagall led us out of the chamber, across the hall, and through a pair of grand double doors that opened into the Great Hall. My breath caught for a second as I stepped inside.
The Great Hall was nothing short of breathtaking. Four long tables dominated the space, each one lined with students already seated by house. Above them, floating candles hovered in the air, casting a soft, warm glow across the hall. At the far end, a smaller table sat perpendicular to the rest, clearly reserved for the professors and staff. My eyes were drawn upward almost immediately, and what I saw made me pause—there was no ceiling, at least not one I could see. It was an illusion of the night sky, stars twinkling above us, casting a faint glow over the long tables below. The night sky stretched endlessly above us, glittering with stars and constellations that seemed to shimmer and move across the vast expanse. Floating candles hovered in midair, their soft light giving the hall an otherworldly atmosphere.
"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside," a voice ahead of me whispered. "I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."
I winced at the high piched voice. Hermione. She really wasn't doing herself any favors, coming off as a insufferable know-it-all.
At the front of the hall stood Professor McGonagall, who had placed a small, rickety-looking stool in the center. In her hand was an old, battered hat, full of stitches and patches. The Sorting Hat. It looked like it had seen better days—decades ago. The poor thing seemed like it was held together by sheer will, or magic, but either way, I almost felt sorry for it.
Then the hall grew quiet as everyone's attention turned to the hat. The brim twitched, and a fold in the middle separated like a mouth. Without warning, the hat began to sing in a deep, raspy voice:
"Welcome, welcome, one and all
To this fine place, in this Great Hall.
Yes, it's that time of year once more
When I help Master Dumbledore
To place you where you need to be:
The House that is your destiny.
To those of you who always yearn
To know as much as you can learn,
Who seek the truth in every way
And plan to study every day,
Don't worry—here you're not alone
In Ravenclaw you'll find your home.
To any who have talent—yes,
And always try to do their best,
Who only take the things they earn
And wait with patience for their turn
And value loyalty and trust,
Why, you belong in Hufflepuff.
If you know that you have ambition
And a cunning disposition,
If you keep your secrets close
And know that wisdom never boasts
And want to find your truest friends,
Then you must go to Slytherin.
To those of you with steady nerve,
The stout of heart who never swerve
From any duty come their way,
Who aren't afraid to speak their say
And meet the danger at their door,
You will be great in Gryffindor.
So come to me and put me on;
I've never once been told I'm wrong.
I'll find inside your deepest soul
The House able to make you whole.
Maybe it's not a pretty sight
But this old hat will steer you right."
The hall broke into thunderous applause as the Sorting Hat finished its song. The older students clapped and cheered, their excitement infectious, and we first years joined in, though most of us were too nervous to fully enjoy the moment. I overheard someone whisper, "So, we've just got to try on the hat?"
McGonagall stepped forward, pulling a long scroll from her robes and unrolling it with precision. "When I call your name, come forward, sit on the stool, and try on the hat," she instructed, her sharp gaze scanning the group. "Abbott, Hannah."
A mousy-looking blonde girl with pigtails stumbled out of line. She sat on the stool, looking as though she'd rather be anywhere else, and gingerly placed the hat on her head, scrunching her nose as if the hat had an unpleasant smell.
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat bellowed.
The table on the right, adorned in yellow and black, erupted in cheers and applause. As Hannah's robes changed colors to match her house, she hurried over to join them, her nervousness replaced by a relieved smile.
"Bones, Susan!" McGonagall called next.
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat shouted once again, and Susan scurried to sit beside Hannah, earning more cheers from her new housemates.
"Boot, Terry!"
"RAVENCLAW!" The Ravenclaw table on the left clapped politely, their reaction more reserved compared to Hufflepuff's enthusiastic cheers.
"Brocklehurst, Mandy!" went to Ravenclaw as well, followed by "Brown, Lavender!" who was sorted into Gryffindor, causing their table to explode with applause. The Gryffindor twins whistled and whooped, clearly enjoying the chance to make noise.
"Bulstrode, Millicent!" was next, a larger girl who marched forward with a determined expression.
"SLYTHERIN!" the hat declared, and she moved to join the Slytherin table, which offered polite clapping but no cheering. It was a stark contrast to the noisy reception Gryffindor had given Lavender.
"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!" came the Sorting Hat's shout again, and Justin made his way over to his new house, welcomed with warm smiles and applause.
As the sorting continued, I found myself watching in a daze as student after student was called up, each one taking their place among the four houses. Some names passed by in an instant, with the Sorting Hat shouting their house as soon as it touched their heads, while others took a minute or more.
I wasn't really paying attention when McGonagall finally called, "Malfoy, Draco!"
Just as he strutted forward, looking unbearably smug, the hat barely grazed his head before it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!" I couldn't help but give a small laugh at how quickly it had decided.
More names were called, and I kept half an ear on the proceedings. I found out that the boy I had spoken to earlier was Theodore Nott, and unsurprisingly, he was sorted into Slytherin. He caught my eye and gave me a small nod before moving to his table.
Then it happened—Professor McGonagall called out the name everyone hadbeen waiting for.
"Potter, Harry!"
The whispers broke out immediately, rippling through the hall like a wave. "Potter, did she say?" "Is that the Harry Potter?"
All eyes turned to Harry, and he froze for a second, his face paling under the sudden attention. There weren't many first years left standing, so I took a step forward, gently nudging him. "You've got this, just be yourself," I whispered with a small smile.
He looked back at me, his nerves evident in his wide eyes, and gave a short nod, swallowing hard before slowly stepping forward. As he approached the stool, the entire hall seemed to hold its breath. He sat down, and McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head, the brim almost covering his eyes entirely.
The hall was silent, waiting. A minute passed, maybe two, with the occasional twitch of the hat. Harry's face was tense, clearly deep in thought. Then, finally, the hat's brim opened wide, and it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"
The Gryffindor table erupted in cheers, the loudest yet. The twins, Fred and George, were on their feet, yelling, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" like they'd just won a prize. Harry looked shaken but relieved, standing up slowly and making his way toward their table. He glanced back at me, a small, grateful smile on his face as he joined the Gryffindors, who welcomed him with open arms.
I gave him a nod, pleased for him, even as the thought crossed my mind—this was where everything would really begin for him.
It didn't take long before my name was called. "Stark, Estelle!" echoed through the hall. Moving forward, I threw McGonagall a two-finger salute. To my amusement, her lips twitched ever so slightly, though she quickly masked it with her usual stern expression.
I sat on the stool, ignoring the curious stares, and McGonagall placed the old, tattered Sorting Hat on my head. As soon as it touched me, I knew why hannah scunched her nose before. It's not that bad though.
"Why, thank you for the compliment," the hat's voice murmured in my head, startling me. "It's been years since someone thought to clean me."
I jumped a bit in my seat, my body instinctively recoiling. Not liking the feeling of something poking inside my brain.
"Indeed," the hat chuckled softly. "Not fond of intruders, are we? Impressive Occlumency shields for someone your age. A difficult art for one so young."
I blinked. Occlumency? What the hell is this thing talking about?
"Yes, Occlumency," the hat hummed in my thoughts. "And such a mature mind, though young in body. Interesting, indeed."
Can you stop poking around in my brain? I thought, trying to suppress the rising irritation and the uncomfortable feeling of having someone—or something—in my head.
"Don't worry, I'm not here to judge. Just to sort," it murmured, sounding almost amused. "Though I must admit, I've never had the pleasure of interacting with a reincarnated soul before."
I froze. Excuse me?
"Now, now," the hat continued, ignoring my shock, "let's not get too worked up. We have more important things to discuss—like your sorting. You have quite the hunger for knowledge, a mind for mischief, and a fierce loyalty to those you care about. But you also have a talent for causing harm to those who cross you." It chuckled again. "Quite the mix. This will be difficult… Tell me, Estelle, are you looking to make true friends here at Hogwarts?"
Friends? Sure, why not, I replied mentally, half-annoyed, half-amused by this cryptic pile of fabric. But where are you getting all this?
"Oh, I know much more than you realize," it said with a sly tone. "I see potential for greatness, and a reputation that will echo through the years. Yes, I know exactly where to place you."
Before I could even brace myself, the hat bellowed, "SLYTHERIN!"
I winced as the hat's voice echoed through the hall, painfully loud. Did you have to scream it in my ear, you raggedy old bastard?
The Slytherin table clapped politely, though there were no wild cheers like the Gryffindors. Typical. I walked over, taking a seat beside Theodore Nott, giving him a quick nod. He returned it, his expression unreadable. Across the table, I caught Malfoy's eye. He gave me a brief nod as well, and I nodded back. Internally, I sighed. Great, now I have to deal with racist shits, or would it be bloodists? Is that even a word?.
Wait, I paused, suddenly realizing something. Do any of them know I'm Muggle-born? I frowned to myself, thinking quickly. Hell, do I even know if I am one or not? I could probably pass as a half-blood and avoid a lot of unnecessary drama. Less chance of people calling me slurs and me having to break their noses—or other body parts. Yeah, let's go with half-blood. That should save some headaches.
I nodded to myself, mentally setting the plan in motion. Beside me, Theodore raised an eyebrow at my random nodding, but I ignored him, focusing back on the Sorting.
The final name was called. "Zabini, Blaise!"
With a confident stride, Blaise made his way to the stool. The Sorting Hat barely touched his head before it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!" He walked over and sat beside me, his expression as cool and detached as ever.
I nodded to him as he sat beside me. Blaise glanced at me, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. As he gave a small nod back.
Dumbledore stood to his feet, and honestly, he was a right sight to behold. His long, white beard had been braided with ribbons in the four house colors, and his pointed hat was covered in tropical flowers and birds. I had to blink a few times just to take it all in. He looked like a mix between Father Christmas and someone who'd lost a bet at a garden party.
"Welcome!" he said, his voice booming, clearly amplified by magic. "To a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
As soon as the random words left his mouth, the tables suddenly filled with every kind of food imaginable. Starters, soups, entrees, desserts, drinks—it was a chaotic mess of choices, laid out like a buffet in heaven. Dumbledore sat back down, smiling as if he hadn't just baffled half the first-years. Around me, students immediately started piling their plates high with whatever they could reach.
I grabbed some chicken and a bowl of peas soup, barely glancing at what I was putting on my plate. Across the table, Crabbe and Goyle were living up to their reputations, stuffing their faces with meat, not even bothering with plates. Malfoy, on the other hand, was carefully selecting his food with a critical eye, as if checking for poison. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at that.
The first years were mostly quiet, still getting used to the whole scene, while the upper years were already chatting away, laughing and talking among themselves. I caught a few Slytherins sneaking glances at me. I ignored them, stuffing a roll into my mouth and determined to enjoy the food while I could. The pumpkin juice, though? Bloody hell, it was so sweet I nearly gagged. Seriously, who thought this much sugar in a drink was a good idea? Perfect for a bunch of eleven-year-olds, I guess. I finished my meal with some pudding, and by then, I was feeling full—maybe a bit too full. As I was settling back in my seat, regretting that last spoonful, the ghosts began to float into the hall.
Most of them headed straight for the Gryffindor table. I spotted a headless ghost carrying his own head under his arm, which seemed to cause quite a bit of shreaks over there. But then I noticed one ghost hovering near the Slytherin first-years. His face was pale, and his clothes were stained with silver blood. The Bloody Baron. The moment he made eye contact with me, he froze, his eyes widening slightly. For whatever reason, he just stared at me for a few unnerving seconds before floating away silently into one of the halls.
Of course, this didn't go unnoticed. The Slytherin students around me started whispering, and I groaned inwardly. Great. Ghost attention. Just what I needed.
By the time everyone finished eating, I was ready to pass out. The food had done its job, and now I was struggling to keep my eyes open. The energy I had at the beginning of the feast had drained out of me, and the bench was starting to feel a lot more comfortable than it should.
Just then, Dumbledore stood again. "Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered," he said, though I wasn't exactly paying attention anymore. He started going on about the Forbidden Forest, Filch, Quidditch trials, and something about a "painful death" awaiting anyone who wandered onto the third floor. I think he was trying to sound serious, but my eyes were glazing over. I was barely nodding along when Blaise Zabini tapped my shoulder.
"Hey, don't fall asleep here. We'll be dismissed in a few minutes," he said with a soft voice.
The upper-year Slytherins were having a laugh, placing bets on when the first Gryffindor would get themselves killed on the third floor. Someone was betting on the Weasley twins dying by the end of the month, and another figured it'd happen in a week. Ten galleons on it, apparently. I smirked. Morbid lot.
"And now," Dumbledore suddenly bellowed, snapping me back to attention, "before we all head to bed, let us sing the school song!" His grin was wide, and I could practically hear the collective groan from the Slytherin table.
Bloody fantastic.
"Everyone pick their favorite tune, and off we go!" Dumbledore said, waving his wand like a conductor.
Most of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs enthusiastically joined in, their voices clashing horribly as they all sang to different tunes. A few Ravenclaws joined in, but Slytherin? Not a sound. We were collectively too dignified—or too smart—to participate in the chaos. The Weasley twins, of course, dragged out their song with a ridiculously slow, funeral-like pace, and Dumbledore, in true dramatic fashion, conducted their last few lines with his wand, clapping loudly as they finished.
"Ah, music," he said, wiping away imaginary tears. "A magic beyond all we do here. And now, off to bed, all of you. Off you trot!"
Finally.
I pushed myself up from the table, suppressing a yawn as we were herded out of the hall. I swear, if we don't get to the dorms soon, I'm going to pass out on the bloody floor.
Finally, we were released from the Great Hall, and I fell into step beside Zabini as the Slytherin first years followed the prefects down into the dungeons. With every step deeper into the castle, the air grew colder, and by the time we reached the common room entrance, I was freezing. Bloody hell, I thought, cursing the damn castle for not having any heating in the dungeons. What was this, the Middle Ages?
One of the prefects, a girl with long, black hair and heavy makeup, turned to address us, her gaze sharp. "This is the entrance to the common room," she began, gesturing to what looked like a blank stretch of stone wall. "You probably won't be able to find it on your own for the first few weeks because, as you can see, it looks like just another part of the dungeon. That's intentional—to stop other houses from finding it. So, whatever you do, don't draw maps on parchment or make marks on the walls to find your way back." Her tone made it clear that this wasn't just a suggestion—it was a rule grounded in experience.
"Don't be too proud to ask for directions either," the male prefect beside her chimed in. He looked more relaxed, but his voice had an edge to it. "The upper years had to do the same as you. No one expects you to figure everything out on your own like a Ravenclaw, but don't mistake this for Hufflepuff either. Any help you get here comes at a price. Nothing is free in Slytherin."
Brilliant, I thought, my lips curling into a smirk. Slytherin had its own cutthroat charm.
"The password is 'gillyweed,'" the female prefect added.
At her words, the bricks in the wall started to shift and part, slowly revealing an opening into the common room. As soon as the warm air from inside hit me, I couldn't help but shiver—it felt like I was thawing after being frozen solid.
Stepping inside, I was immediately struck by the atmosphere of the Slytherin common room. It was dark—very dark—with only the flickering flames of torches and fireplaces casting shadows across the room. It had an eerie, almost unsettling quality at first, but as my eyes adjusted to the low light, I started to appreciate the elegance of it. The room had a kind of cold beauty, understated but still impressive.
The décor? Snakes. Everywhere. Snakes carved into the walls, snakes etched into paintings—bloody snake pit, I thought, stifling a laugh. The windows, framed in the same dark wood as the furniture, looked out into the black waters of the lake, though I supposed during the day some light would filter through. The furniture itself was well-suited to the house—low-backed, so you could always see who was sitting in each seat, and spaced just far enough apart that no one could really hide in the corners. No privacy, no secrets. Very Slytherin.
The dark woods of the furniture paired with the green and silver fabric managed to look refined rather than gaudy, which was a relief. I'd been worried it would feel like a tacky serpent-themed nightmare. But it was tasteful, in a cold, calculated way. Seven different hallways branched off from the main room like spokes on a wheel. I figured they led to the dormitories, one for each year.
Zabini gave a low whistle beside me, clearly impressed. "Well, this isn't half bad," he muttered, his eyes scanning the room.
I agreed, though the warmth was doing wonders to improve my mood after the freezing trek through the castle.
Then, from a shadowy corner, Snape emerged, his long black robes billowing behind him like some kind of dark omen. His entrance was as silent as it was dramatic, and as he moved to the center of the common room, a hush fell over the first years. He didn't say a word at first, just stood there, silently surveying us with those intense, pitch-black eyes. It wasn't until the silence became almost unbearable that he finally spoke.
"For those of you who do not know," Snape began in his soft, dangerous voice, "I am Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master and your Head of House." His eyes flicked over us, pausing ever so slightly on a few students before continuing, "As the new term begins, you will learn—or rediscover—what it means to be a Slytherin. Some of you have family roots buried deep in these dungeon walls, passed down through generations. For others, Slytherin means opportunity—an invitation to rise above mediocrity. But for all of you, Slytherin is a chance to craft and control your destiny."
He paused, turning slowly to face each side of the room, letting his words settle over us like a cold mist. "Ambition is not merely encouraged here—it is expected. And as your Head of House, it is my duty to help you nurture that ambition. For the next seven years, your goals are my goals. Your plans, schemes, and dreams will become my own motivations. As long as you wear green and silver, I will be there to ensure you succeed—provided you put in the effort."
He turned in a slow, deliberate circle as he spoke, his voice growing slightly sharper. "But make no mistake—Slytherin House does not tolerate weakness or disloyalty. You are here because you possess something that sets you apart. If you wish to rise to greatness, you must first prove that you can be trusted. We are more than individuals. We are Slytherin. A lone snake is no match for a lion, an eagle, or—yes, even a badger. We survive because we are united, and we thrive because we are smart."
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he continued. "Slytherin House rules are… flexible. Most rules, as you will find, can be bent or even broken under the right circumstances. But one rule is ironclad: no fighting within the House. If you have an issue with a fellow Slytherin, you settle it privately—civilly. In this castle, my snakes do not bare their fangs at each other. Settle your disputes outside of these walls if you must, but here, you will present a united front."
He stopped, surveying us again with that cold, calculating gaze. "Cross me—or Slytherin House—and you will regret it. I assure you, I do not give second chances lightly."
Snape gestured toward the large portrait of Salazar Slytherin hanging above the fireplace, the founder's eyes eerily watching over us. "If you require my assistance, simply seek out Salazar's portrait. He will alert me immediately. I will not tolerate you being lost, aimless, or reckless. If you are a Slytherin, you are expected to succeed."
His lips curled into a mockery of a smile, but it wasn't meant to comfort. "You will find that, in this House, knowledge is power, and loyalty is invaluable. Remember that."
With one last piercing look, Snape turned on his heel and swept out of the room, his robes trailing behind him like a shadow. The heavy silence he left behind lingered long after he was gone, and it wasn't until the common room wall slid shut behind him that anyone dared to move.
Finally, one of the prefects cleared her throat, breaking the tension. "First-year dorms are down the hallway all the way to your right," She gave us a stern look before waving us toward the dorms. "Go on, little snakes. Your room assignments are listed on the doors. Oh, and boys—don't even think about trying to sneak into the girls' dorms. You won't like the consequences. Goodnight."
I was exhausted by this point, barely able to keep my eyes open as I followed Zabini and the other first years down the hallway. There were four doors along the corridor—two for the boys and two for the girls. The boys seemed content with their room assignments, though Zabini looked downright miserable when he found out he'd been placed with Crabbe and Goyle. I snorted, feeling a bit of pity for him.
At the very end of the hall, on the right-hand side, was my door. "Estelle Stark" was written along "Pandora Parkinson" and "Daphne Greengrass." I pushed it open, not even bothering to take in the details of the room. My trunk was already sitting at the foot of the last bed, and I made a beeline for it. With a groan, I flopped down onto the bed, ignoring the soft footsteps of my roommates entering the room behind me.
Within minutes, I was fast asleep, the events of the day finally catching up with me.
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[End of chapter 5]
A/N: she got sorted in slytherin, i think you could have guessed that. She met harry, the person harry reminded her of will be slowly revealed as we go. The sorting song wasn't mine tell me if you know where i got it from. Thank you for reading. You can comment what you think will happen next.