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The sound of bustling crowds, rolling suitcases, and distant train whistles filled Harry's ears as he stood just outside King's Cross Station. He could feel the cool morning air on his skin, carrying with it the faint scent of diesel and coffee. The sounds of the station washed over him—people rushing, children laughing, and the constant murmur of announcements echoing through the cavernous space. Even without sight, Harry could feel the energy of the place. It was alive and full of movement.

It had been a whirlwind couple of days since his trip to Diagon Alley. Between preparing for Hogwarts and the overwhelming amount of new knowledge he was absorbing, Harry's mind had been buzzing with information. Whenever he wasn't studying spells or magical theory, he found himself buried in the history of his family—the Potters.

The deeper he delved into the records left for him by Gringotts, the more he realized just how significant his lineage was. The Potters were considered one of the "Most Ancient and Most Noble" families in Britain, a title that carried centuries of weight. He'd uncovered connections to an old family known as the Peverells, which, according to legend, had some kind of connection to Death itself. Harry had scoffed at the idea at first, thinking it was just a bit of lore. But the more he read, the more it seemed like in the wizarding world, Death wasn't just a concept—it was something real, something tied to the very history of his bloodline.

The idea left Harry both intrigued and unsettled. The thought of being part of a family so ancient, with ties to legends that seemed impossible, weighed on him heavily. There was so much he didn't understand yet, but it all felt important, like pieces of a larger puzzle he wasn't quite ready to solve.

Still, as he stood outside King's Cross, his thoughts shifted from family legacies to the more immediate challenge of navigating the bustling station. He had a train to catch. Hogwarts was waiting.

"Yeh alright, Harry?" Hagrid's gruff but kind voice asked, his hand gently placed on Harry's shoulder.

Harry nodded, adjusting his grip on the handle of his trolley. It felt strange to have so much luggage—his trunk filled with clothes and books, and Hedwig's cage balanced carefully on top. But he wasn't alone in navigating this busy world. A comforting presence was with him, nestled in his sleeve—his snake, who he and the snake had named Stheno the night before. They had both agreed it felt right, a name that echoed with ancient power, fitting for a creature so special.

Lots of people around, human, Stheno hissed softly in Harry's mind, the telepathic connection they shared as familiar now as any voice. The snake's cool scales pressed lightly against Harry's wrist, alert but calm.

"Thanks," Harry murmured quietly, feeling reassured by the simple update. Stheno had been guiding him for days now, acting as his eyes, helping him see what he couldn't.

"Well, King's Cross can be a bit overwhelmin', but we'll get yeh there. Yeh just listen fer the right sounds. Platform 9 is hidden, but it's there. Yeh just need ter get a run at it," Hagrid explained as they entered the station.

The distinct whistle of a nearby train echoed around them as they approached the platforms. Harry focused, letting Stheno's soft whispers guide him through the maze of people. Every subtle movement, every shifting sound of a suitcase or step helped him map out the world in his mind.

"We're headin' toward platforms nine an' ten," Hagrid said, his voice low but encouraging.

Humans moving fast, busy place, Stheno hissed again, and Harry could sense the constant flow of travelers brushing past him. He concentrated, the noises of King's Cross Station becoming clearer, the faint clicks of shoes, the roll of suitcases, the hum of the station's announcements.

When they stopped, Hagrid paused for a moment. "Here we are. Now, Platform 9 is just between these two here." He nudged Harry toward a section of the wall. "Yeh gotta run at it—don't stop or it won't work."

Harry gripped the trolley tighter. "Run at it?" he repeated, feeling Stheno shift slightly in his sleeve, her presence reminding him to focus. His heart beat a little faster at the idea.

"Aye, don't worry. I'll be right behind yeh," Hagrid said reassuringly.

"Now, Percy, you go first and show them how it's done," a warm, motherly voice said, cutting through the bustle of King's Cross Station.

Harry stilled, tilting his head slightly in the direction of the voice. He heard the faint, quick footsteps of someone running, followed by... nothing. No crash, no impact. Whoever had just run at the barrier had vanished.

Hagrid, standing beside Harry, scratched his beard thoughtfully. "That sounds like Molly Weasley," he muttered. His massive form leaned slightly forward, peering in the direction of the voice. "She'll know what ter do." He patted Harry's shoulder with a hand that felt like a heavy cushion. "Hold on a sec, Harry."

Harry heard Hagrid take a few large strides toward the woman, his voice booming gently over the crowd. "Molly! Molly Weasley, is that yeh?"

"Oh! Hagrid, dear, how lovely to see you," the woman's voice responded, warm and friendly. "What are you doing here?"

Hagrid gave a sheepish chuckle. "Gotta get Harry Potter through ter the platform, but I've never been great at explainin' the barrier thing... Think yeh could give us a hand?"

There was a pause, then, "Harry Potter?"

Harry shifted nervously, feeling Stheno's quiet presence wrap tighter around his wrist, as if sensing his unease. He reached up to adjust his grip on the trolley, listening to the soft murmurs between the woman—Molly Weasley—and Hagrid.

A few moments later, a gentle, motherly voice came closer. "Oh, hello dear," she said kindly. "Are you lost?"

Harry turned his head toward her voice. "I'm trying to get to Platform 9," he said, his voice steady though he felt a flutter of nerves in his chest. "But, um... it's my first time."

There was a moment of silence before the woman spoke again, her voice full of warmth. "Oh, of course! First time at Hogwarts, is it? I'm Molly Weasley. These are my children."

Harry smiled, sensing the friendly energy in her voice. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

The air seemed to shift, and there was a sharp intake of breath. "Harry Potter is... blind?" Mrs. Weasley said, her tone a mix of disbelief and concern.

Harry chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. Apparently, that's not common knowledge. I didn't even know I was famous until a few days ago. I grew up in the Muggle world, so I had no idea about magic or anything. But evidently, people think I have a lightning scar on my forehead. If only..." he added with a wry smile.

He could sense Mrs. Weasley stepping closer, her presence radiating warmth and a gentle curiosity. "Well," she said softly, "it's lovely to meet you, Harry. Truly."

There was a moment of stillness, but Harry could feel Mrs. Weasley's kind gaze on him, as if she were trying to reconcile the boy standing before her with the legendary figure she had heard so much about. Finally, her tone softened even more, becoming almost motherly. "My son Ron's a first-year too. Ron, dear, why don't you help Harry get through the barrier?"

Harry heard a slight shuffling, followed by a quiet, nervous voice. "Yeah, sure. I can help."

The boy's voice was hesitant but kind, and Harry smiled in his direction. "Thanks."

Ron cleared his throat, sounding a bit more confident. "No worries," he said, his tone friendlier now. "Just hold onto your trolley and follow me. It's not as hard as it sounds."

As Ron spoke, Harry could feel Stheno shift slightly in his sleeve. The snake's voice slithered through his mind, quiet but comforting. Boy looks nervous. He means well, Stheno observed, and Harry chuckled softly under his breath.

"Thanks, Ron," Harry repeated, feeling reassured by both the boy's presence and Stheno's steady guidance.

"No problem," Ron replied, his voice gaining a little more ease.

Hagrid, who had been watching the exchange with a soft smile, stepped closer and placed a large, comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'll be waitin' fer yeh, Harry. Good luck, an' remember, don't be afraid ter ask fer help if yeh need it."

Harry turned his face toward Hagrid, feeling a swell of gratitude. "Thanks, Hagrid. For everything."

Hagrid chuckled, his big hand giving Harry's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Yer gonna be just fine, Harry. See yeh at Hogwarts!"

With that, Hagrid stepped back, letting Molly and Ron take over.

"All right then, Harry," Ron said, the sound of his trolley moving forward. "We just run at the wall. It's right between platforms nine and ten."

Harry nodded, gripping his trolley tightly. His heart began to pound in his chest, the sounds of King's Cross Station surrounding him. But Stheno's cool presence in his sleeve kept him grounded, offering a sense of calm amidst the growing excitement.

"I will guide you," Stheno whispered in his mind, her words steady, keeping Harry focused.

He tightened his grip on the trolley handle. The crowd around them seemed to blur away as Ron's voice guided him forward.

"We'll count to three," Ron said, his voice filled with a mixture of excitement and nerves. "One... two... three!"

And they ran.

For a brief moment, Harry's breath caught, and he braced for impact. But then, instead of crashing into solid stone, there was a rush of cool air, as though he had stepped through an invisible barrier. The noises of the crowded station faded, replaced by the unmistakable sound of the Hogwarts Express—the soft hiss of steam, the hum of magic, and the excited chatter of students.

We have crossed, Stheno confirmed, her voice calm and steady in his mind.

Harry let out a breath, grinning. "We made it."

Ron laughed beside him. "Pretty cool, right?"

Harry chuckled. "Definitely."

The sound of the Hogwarts Express filled Harry's senses. He could hear the excited murmur of students and the soft hooting of owls from within their cages. The platform was bustling with energy, alive with the thrill of the new school year.

"We should find a compartment before they all fill up," Ron suggested.

Harry nodded, allowing Ron to lead the way as Stheno continued her quiet, guiding presence in his mind. The weight of the snake's body resting gently in his sleeve reminded him that he wasn't alone. He had help—he had magic—and he was finally on his way to Hogwarts.

As they boarded the train, Harry felt a surge of anticipation. The familiar hum of the train beneath his feet and the excited voices of students filled the space around him. The journey ahead was unknown, but for the first time, Harry felt ready for it.

He had Stheno by his side, a connection unlike anything he had ever known. And together, they were about to embark on the greatest adventure of Harry's life.

(Scene Break)

The train compartment was filled with the soft hum of the engine and the faint chatter of students settling in for the long ride to Hogwarts. Harry sat across from Ron Weasley, his hand resting on the seat beside him as he listened intently to the sounds of the bustling platform outside. The train hadn't yet started moving, but the air was thick with the anticipation of what lay ahead.

Ron had been talking non-stop since they found the compartment, and Harry had done his best to keep up with the conversation. Stheno was coiled loosely around his wrist, her quiet presence a comforting weight as she occasionally hissed soft observations into his mind.

The boy is nervous. Too eager to please, Stheno remarked, her words sharp but truthful.

Harry felt a small pang of agreement. He had noticed it too—the way Ron's voice seemed to waver with excitement, almost too eager when he talked about Hogwarts or mentioned Harry's name. It hadn't escaped Harry's attention that Ron saw him more as the Harry Potter than just Harry.

"So," Ron said, his voice breaking through Harry's thoughts, "what's it like being... y'know... famous?"

Harry smiled politely, though inside, he felt a flicker of irritation. "To be honest, I didn't even know I was famous until a few days ago," Harry replied, his tone light. "I grew up in the Muggle world. Magic wasn't even a thing I knew about."

Ron let out a low whistle. "Blimey! That must've been rough, not knowin' you're a wizard and all. Everyone knows who you are."

Harry nodded, keeping his voice neutral. "Yeah, it was... surprising. But I've spent the last few days reading up on everything. I'm trying to catch up."

Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes darting between Harry and the window as if unsure of what to say next. "Well, you'll do great. Everyone'll love you at Hogwarts. I mean, you're Harry Potter."

Harry gave a short, polite laugh but inwardly cringed. It was clear Ron didn't see him—just the legend everyone else talked about. The conversation felt hollow, and as much as Harry tried to connect, he couldn't shake the feeling that Ron's admiration was more about the fame than the person sitting in front of him.

Stheno's voice slithered quietly into Harry's mind. He does not see you. He sees what the others see. A name, not a person.

Harry silently agreed.

Just then, the door to the compartment slid open, and a familiar voice greeted them. "Oh, hello! I hope I'm not interrupting?"

Harry smiled at the sound of Hermione Granger's voice. "Not at all," he said, feeling genuinely pleased at her arrival.

Ron looked over, slightly confused. "Er... d'you know her?"

Harry nodded. "We met in Diagon Alley a few days ago."

Hermione stepped inside, carefully closing the door behind her. "I thought I'd sit with you two. Everywhere else is rather full." She paused for a moment, noticing Ron. "Oh! I'm Hermione Granger, by the way."

"Ron Weasley," Ron mumbled, though his eyes lingered on Harry, still caught up in the idea that Harry knew people already.

Hermione settled into the seat beside Harry, her movements quick and efficient. "So, how are you finding everything so far?" she asked, her voice bright with curiosity.

"Good," Harry replied, turning his attention to her. "I've been reading up on the wizarding world. There's so much I didn't know before."

Hermione's face lit up. "Oh, I know! There's so much to learn. I've been reading all the textbooks ahead of time, and it's just fascinating. Did you know Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago?"

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, I did. I read about it too. It's incredible how much history there is."

As they talked, Ron fidgeted awkwardly in his seat, clearly out of his depth with the conversation. Harry could feel the tension, but he pressed on, enjoying the exchange with Hermione. They both had a hunger for knowledge, and for the first time in days, Harry felt like he was connecting with someone who saw him, not his name.

"Blimey," Ron finally muttered under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "You lot sound like you're already professors."

Hermione glanced at him with a bemused smile. "There's so much to learn before we get to Hogwarts. Don't you want to be prepared?"

Ron shrugged, not entirely comfortable with the intensity of their conversation. "I guess."

Harry remained polite, but inside, he was already starting to see the divide between himself and Ron. He couldn't shake the sense that Ron was a little too eager, too focused on who Harry was supposed to be rather than getting to know him. It was clear that while Ron was nice enough, they weren't clicking as Harry had hoped.

Their conversation was interrupted by the compartment door sliding open once again. This time, a cool, drawling voice filled the space.

"Well, well. What do we have here?"

Harry's body tensed slightly as he listened carefully to the voice. It was smooth, practiced, with an edge of arrogance that immediately set him on guard. He could hear the shuffle of feet as three figures stepped into the doorway.

These ones are not friends, Stheno warned quietly in Harry's mind, her presence sharp and alert.

Harry could already sense what Stheno meant. There was something in the way the boy spoke, in the deliberate pause between his words, that set Harry on edge.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," the boy announced. "And you must be Harry Potter."

Harry turned his head toward Malfoy's voice, his face neutral but his senses attuned to every shift in the boy's tone. He could almost hear the smirk in Malfoy's voice, the thinly veiled arrogance beneath the surface.

"Yes, I am," Harry said calmly. "And?"

There was a brief silence, as if Malfoy hadn't expected such a direct response. "And," Malfoy continued, his voice still cool, "you should be careful who you associate with. Not all wizards are... worthy."

Harry's expression didn't change, but inwardly he felt a flash of annoyance. He could tell by the way Malfoy spoke that he was trying to intimidate him, to set the stage for some sort of dominance. But Harry wasn't about to play along.

"I think I'll be the judge of that," Harry replied, his tone steady.

Malfoy hesitated, clearly thrown off by Harry's lack of interest in his veiled insult. "Well," he said, trying to recover, "you'll find that certain families are more... respectable than others. I could help you make the right connections."

Harry could hear the thinly disguised offer, but he wasn't interested. Malfoy's arrogance dripped from every word, and Harry didn't need Stheno's warnings to know what kind of person he was dealing with.

"I'm good, thanks," Harry said dismissively. "I'll figure things out on my own."

There was another pause, and Harry could almost feel the frustration radiating from Malfoy. The boy wasn't used to being brushed off like this.

"Suit yourself," Malfoy said, his voice tight with annoyance. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

With that, Malfoy turned on his heel, and Harry heard the footsteps retreat from the compartment. The door slid shut with a soft click, leaving the three of them in a brief, stunned silence.

Ron finally spoke up, his voice incredulous. "Blimey, Harry. You just told off Malfoy."

Harry smiled faintly. "Seemed like the right thing to do."

Hermione, who had been watching the exchange closely, shook her head. "I can't believe how arrogant he was. You handled that really well, Harry."

"Thanks," Harry said, feeling a sense of satisfaction. He could tell Malfoy wasn't used to being dismissed so easily, but Harry wasn't interested in making friends with someone like that. He had enough on his plate without dealing with Malfoy's entitlement.

As the train rumbled forward, the conversation shifted back to lighter topics. But Harry's mind stayed sharp, taking in every interaction, every subtle shift in tone. This world was new to him, but he was beginning to see who he could trust—and who he couldn't.

(Scene Break)

The Hogwarts Express finally slowed to a stop, the faint screech of the brakes echoing through the train as students gathered their belongings and began bustling out of the compartments. Harry stood with Ron and Hermione, feeling the excitement and nervousness in the air. Stheno stirred slightly in his sleeve, hissing quietly, Crowded. Many are moving.

"We're here," Ron said, his voice tinged with awe. "Hogwarts."

Harry felt a jolt of anticipation in his chest. This was it—his first steps into the wizarding world beyond Diagon Alley. He prepared himself for the new surroundings.

As they stepped off the train and onto the platform, the cool night air brushed against Harry's skin. The distant sound of water lapping against a shore reached his ears, and he could hear the murmur of students all around, their voices filled with a mixture of excitement and nerves.

"First years! First years, over 'ere!" Hagrid's familiar booming voice called out from somewhere ahead, cutting through the chatter of the crowd.

Harry felt a small smile tug at his lips. He'd grown accustomed to the sound of Hagrid's voice over the last few days—it was both grounding and reassuring. As they moved forward, he felt Ron step up beside him.

"There's Hagrid," Ron said, his voice a bit higher than usual, clearly excited.

Harry nodded. The giant man stands ahead, Stheno hissed quietly, confirming Ron's words.

As they approached, Hagrid's large hand gave Harry a gentle pat on the shoulder. "All right, Harry?" he asked, his voice full of warmth. "We're gonna take the boats across the lake."

"I'm fine, thanks, Hagrid," Harry replied, his tone steady. He didn't want to seem too dependent, but he appreciated Hagrid's subtle attention.

Hagrid led the group of first years toward the edge of a vast, dark lake. Harry could hear the gentle ripple of water as the boats bobbed in place, waiting for them.

"Four to a boat!" Hagrid called out.

Ron tugged lightly on Harry's sleeve. "Come on, Harry. We'll go together."

Harry followed Ron's lead, feeling the boat rock slightly as he stepped in. He carefully sat down, listening as the other students climbed in beside him. Hermione settled next to him, and another student, whom Harry hadn't spoken to yet, filled the fourth spot.

The cool breeze brushed against Harry's face as the boat began to glide smoothly across the water. He focused on the sounds around him—the faint creak of wood, the splash of oars, and the excited whispers of the other first years. His senses were heightened, each small shift in the boat's movement giving him a clearer picture of his surroundings.

"We're getting close," Ron muttered. "You can see Hogwarts from here. It's massive, Harry... with these huge towers and windows that glow like... like stars. It's unbelievable."

Harry smiled, imagining the scene based on Ron's description. "I bet it's beautiful," he said, his voice soft.

The boat drifted forward, the sounds of water and quiet awe from the students filling the air. Suddenly, Hermione let out a small gasp. "There it is... Hogwarts. It's breathtaking."

Harry could feel the anticipation building, the awe shared by everyone around him. He couldn't see the castle, but he could sense the magic in the air, the importance of the moment. It was as if the castle itself had a presence, a weight that made the air hum with excitement.

"Looks like I'll just have to take your word for it," Harry said with a grin, his voice light. "You know... being blind and all."

Ron sputtered for a second, unsure how to respond, but Hermione caught on quickly, laughing. "Well, I'd say it's worth the wait. You're not missing much... just a big, old, magical castle with hundreds of years of history."

"Yeah," Harry added, his grin widening, "sounds like a real bore."

The tension that had hung in the air between them broke with their laughter, and Harry felt the knot in his chest loosen. Humor had always been his way of handling situations that might otherwise be uncomfortable, and it felt good to know he could lighten the mood.

As the boats drifted closer to the castle, Harry's mind wandered to everything he had read about Hogwarts. Though he couldn't see it, he knew this place would be more than just a school. It was a new beginning—a place where he could carve out his own path, beyond the expectations and legends that surrounded his name.

The boat bumped gently against the shore, signaling their arrival. Hagrid's booming voice cut through the excitement. "Everyone out! Mind yer step now."

Ron helped Harry out of the boat, and Harry felt the ground beneath his feet again, the soft crunch of pebbles and grass underfoot. Hagrid was nearby, keeping an eye on him, but Harry was determined to rely on his own senses as much as possible.

Many moving. A large place ahead, Stheno hissed into his mind.

Harry nodded slightly, acknowledging the guidance. "I'm good," he murmured under his breath to the snake. He knew Hagrid was there if he needed help, but this was a moment he wanted to experience on his own terms.

As they made their way up the stone steps toward the castle, the sound of students' excited whispers and the faint echo of their footsteps bounced off the ancient walls. Harry could feel the history in every sound, in every breath of cool, crisp air. He couldn't see it, but Hogwarts was already beginning to feel like home.

Now, standing at the grand entrance to Hogwarts, Harry could feel the weight of the moment settling on him. He wasn't alone in his excitement—the other first years were practically buzzing with energy. The enormous oak doors creaked open, revealing Professor McGonagall, who stood tall and stern, her sharp eyes surveying the group of new students.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said, her voice firm yet welcoming. "Before we begin the Sorting Ceremony, there are a few things you must know. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but first, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is very important, as your House will be like your family during your time at Hogwarts. You will share dormitories with your Housemates, attend classes together, and spend free time in your House common room."

Harry stood still, listening intently to every word. The atmosphere seemed to thrum with magic, the air itself thick with history and tradition. He could feel Ron and Hermione standing beside him, their breathing slightly quicker than usual, the anticipation palpable.

McGonagall continued, "There are four Houses at Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. While you are here, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup."

Harry's stomach flipped at the mention of rule-breaking, but he kept his face neutral, reminding himself that this was just the beginning.

Professor McGonagall glanced around at the group of first-years, her sharp gaze softening ever so slightly as she caught sight of Harry. "Now, follow me."

With that, she turned and led them inside. The enormous doors swung open to reveal the Great Hall, and Harry was immediately greeted by a surge of sounds—a symphony of life that seemed to pulse with magic. He could hear the faint shuffling of robes, the excited whispers of students, and the distant clatter of cutlery against plates as the older students watched the first-years enter. There was a hum in the air, something that made Harry's skin prickle with anticipation. It wasn't just the noise—it was the very essence of the castle, alive with magic and history.

The Great Hall was everything Harry had imagined from the books he'd read, but hearing it described by those around him brought it to life in a way words on a page couldn't. He felt Ron nudge his arm gently.

"Look up, Harry," Ron whispered, his voice filled with awe. "The ceiling—it's enchanted to look like the night sky. You can see the stars and clouds, but you know, it's not actually open to the sky."

Harry raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "Ron, I'm blind," he replied in a dry, sarcastic tone. "Did you forget already?"

Ron flushed slightly. "Oh, right... sorry."

Hermione, standing just to Harry's left, chimed in, her voice excited but more considerate. "It's incredible. There's magic all around us. You can almost feel it, can't you?"

Harry noticed how Hermione was altering the way she explained things, clearly making an effort to include him. She wasn't focusing on what he couldn't do but making sure he could experience things in his own way. It made Harry smile to himself—she was going to be a great friend, he could already tell.

Harry smiled softly. He couldn't see the enchanted ceiling, but he didn't need to. He could hear the wonder in Ron and Hermione's voices, feel the energy in the room. The Great Hall seemed to breathe with magic, and that was enough for him.

"I can feel it," Harry murmured, his voice steady. "It's like the whole place is alive."

They continued walking forward, joining the rest of the first years in front of the staff table. The soft rustling of robes echoed through the hall, and Harry could sense the older students watching them, their murmurs growing quieter as the Sorting ceremony was about to begin.

Professor McGonagall's clear, authoritative voice rang out. "When I call your name, you will come forward and sit on the stool to be sorted into your House."

Harry listened intently as Professor McGonagall began reading out names. One by one, students were called forward, the anticipation in the hall rising with each new Sorting. Harry mentally cataloged the names of his new classmates, noting which Houses they were placed in.

"Granger, Hermione!" McGonagall called, and Harry perked up, curious about where the bright, bookish girl he had met would go. The Sorting Hat barely touched Hermione's head before it declared, "RAVENCLAW!"

Harry smiled to himself, nodding slightly. It made sense—Hermione's thirst for knowledge and intellectual curiosity seemed perfectly suited to Ravenclaw.

A few more names were called, and then, "Greengrass, Daphne!"

Harry felt a shift in the room as the girl stepped forward. He could sense her quiet confidence even before the Sorting Hat declared, "SLYTHERIN!"

Harry's brow lifted slightly at the mention of Slytherin, making a mental note. Daphne Greengrass. She had an air about her that made him curious.

The air is tense. Many eyes are watching, Stheno whispered in his mind, her presence coiled tightly in his sleeve. Harry could feel the attention of the entire room focusing on each first-year as they took their place on the stool, the weight of tradition and expectation heavy in the hall.

Then, finally, Professor McGonagall's voice cut through the silence. "Harry Potter."

There was a brief pause, and Harry felt the air shift around him. The hall fell completely silent, and he could sense hundreds of eyes on him all at once. But instead of feeling nervous, Harry felt an odd sense of calm. He had been preparing for this moment, for whatever Hogwarts had in store for him.

They are watching you closely, Stheno hissed quietly, but you are ready.

Harry took a deep breath and stepped forward, Stheno guiding him toward the stool. He could feel the slight tremor in the air as whispers rippled through the hall—murmurs of surprise, curiosity, and perhaps even awe. The Harry Potter, blind yet standing tall, making his way to the Sorting Hat.

He reached the stool and sat down, feeling the cool fabric beneath him. A moment later, the wide-brimmed Sorting Hat was placed gently on his head, and suddenly, a voice—soft but firm—echoed in his mind.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" the Sorting Hat mused. "A most interesting case, indeed. I've never sorted someone quite like you, Harry Potter."

Harry remained still, letting the hat do its work, but inside, his mind raced. He had read about the Sorting Hat's abilities, but nothing could have prepared him for the sensation of having his thoughts and desires examined so intimately.

The hat hummed thoughtfully. "You are intelligent, yes... independent, clever... but also determined, ambitious. I see a thirst for knowledge, a desire to prove yourself. You value resourcefulness and cunning. Ah, and what's this? A telepathic bond with a serpent. Very unusual. Very Slytherin."

Harry listened silently, his thoughts calm. He wasn't surprised that the hat leaned toward Slytherin. Everything he had read about the House—the ambition, the independence, the desire to succeed—resonated with him. He didn't have the same fears about Slytherin that others seemed to carry.

"I can see why you belong there," the Sorting Hat continued, "but you are also brave, and there's a certain strength in you that could do well in Gryffindor. What do you think, Harry?"

Harry thought carefully, weighing the hat's words. He understood the importance of the choice, but he had already made his decision. "Slytherin," he whispered. "I want to be in Slytherin."

The hat paused for a moment, and then, with a hint of satisfaction, it responded, "Very well. SLYTHERIN!"

The word echoed through the hall, breaking the silence. Harry could hear the murmurs of surprise ripple through the room, but he remained calm. He stood up confidently, the Sorting Hat removed from his head, and walked toward the Slytherin table. The sound of students whispering followed him, but Harry wasn't bothered.

As he sat down at the Slytherin table, he felt a sense of belonging settle over him. This was where he was meant to be—among those who valued ambition, independence, and resourcefulness. It felt right.

The Sorting continued, but Harry's mind was already moving ahead, thinking about the challenges and opportunities that awaited him. He wasn't just Harry Potter, the blind boy, or the boy who lived. He was Harry Potter, a Slytherin, ready to make his own mark on the world.

The Sorting Ceremony came to a close as the final few students were placed into their respective Houses, and the low murmur of conversation filled the hall. Harry remained seated at the Slytherin table, quietly taking in the atmosphere. The whispers around him, the way people occasionally shot him curious glances, reminded him that no one had expected Harry Potter to be sorted into Slytherin.

Most of the Slytherins seemed uncertain of how to approach him. Some were openly staring, while others, like Daphne Greengrass, kept their distance, as though associating with him was risky.

Just as the last student found their House, the sound of a bell chimed softly through the hall, drawing everyone's attention to the staff table at the far end. Dumbledore rose, his long silver beard glimmering in the candlelight. His bright blue eyes twinkled as he gazed over the students.

"Welcome!" Dumbledore's voice boomed warmly. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our feast, I'd like to say just a few words: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

The students erupted into laughter, and Harry couldn't help but smile at the headmaster's eccentricity. Stheno, nestled quietly in his sleeve, hissed with mild amusement.

With a wave of Dumbledore's hand, the empty tables suddenly became laden with food—roast chicken, mashed potatoes, pies, and all kinds of magical delicacies. The scent of the feast filled the air, and Harry's senses heightened as the chatter of the Great Hall grew louder with excitement.

Harry hesitated for a moment before reaching out to serve himself. He could hear the shuffling of plates and cutlery around him, but he quickly became aware of the awkward tension at the Slytherin table. No one seemed to know how to act around him.

Across from him, Draco Malfoy, who had remained silent since his earlier dismissal, was clearly avoiding eye contact. To Harry's left, Pansy Parkinson whispered something to a fellow student and shot Harry a sideways glance, her tone filled with uncertainty.

Finally, Daphne Greengrass, seated a few spaces down, sighed quietly and leaned over. "Do you need any help with the food, Potter?" Her voice was cool, and Harry could sense her reluctance. She wasn't being cruel, but it was obvious she wasn't thrilled to be interacting with him.

Harry gave a polite nod. "I can manage, thanks," he replied evenly. He wasn't about to make things harder for her, knowing she was just as uncomfortable with the situation as he was. Still, her offer, though reluctant, didn't go unnoticed.

As the feast continued, the tension around him began to ease slightly. Harry could hear the distant hum of conversations, and while many still glanced at him, most seemed content to carry on with their meal. Still, there was an undeniable undercurrent of surprise—Harry Potter in Slytherin.

Midway through the meal, Professor McGonagall approached the Slytherin table. She stopped beside Harry and Daphne, her stern yet kind expression focused on the two of them.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Greengrass," she said, her voice firm but respectful, "after the feast, I would like you both to come to my office. There are matters we must discuss regarding your situation, Harry."

Harry nodded, though he sensed Daphne stiffen beside him.

McGonagall gave them both a brief, approving nod before returning to the staff table. Daphne remained silent, her posture tense.

The rest of the feast passed by without much more incident, though Harry could feel the weight of uncertainty lingering around him. His interaction with most of his Housemates was minimal—either because they didn't know how to approach him or because they were unsure of what to make of him being sorted into Slytherin.

Finally, as Dumbledore dismissed the students for the night, Harry stood and gathered his belongings. He heard Daphne sigh quietly beside him, the slight sound of her adjusting her robes.

"Let's get this over with," she muttered under her breath, clearly displeased with whatever awaited them in McGonagall's office.

They made their way to Professor McGonagall's office, navigating the winding corridors of the castle. Harry was acutely aware of Daphne's reluctance—her footsteps were careful, measured, as though she was trying to keep her distance while still doing what was required of her.

When they arrived at the office, McGonagall gestured for them to sit. She looked between them, her sharp gaze softened by a hint of sympathy.

"Harry," she began, "due to your unique situation, we've made arrangements to ensure you have the help you need. After much consideration, we've decided that Miss Greengrass will act as your guide for the time being."

Harry remained calm, though he could sense Daphne stiffen again beside him.

"As your guide," McGonagall continued, addressing Daphne, "you will be responsible for assisting Harry with navigating the castle, ensuring he has access to his textbooks, and helping him in any areas where his condition may pose a challenge."

Daphne's expression remained carefully neutral, but Harry could tell she wasn't pleased. "And what do I get in return for this... assignment?" she asked, her tone formal but edged with frustration.

McGonagall's eyes narrowed slightly, but there was no malice in her tone. "You will receive academic breaks in certain subjects where we believe your own workload would be too burdensome. This arrangement will be closely monitored, and should you require further assistance with your own studies, you need only ask."

Daphne's lips pressed into a thin line, her reluctance clear, but she gave a stiff nod. "I see."

"It wasn't up to you, Miss Greengrass," McGonagall added softly, her gaze steady. "We trust you to take on this responsibility. You are one of the most capable students in your year, and this role will not take away from your success."

Daphne's eyes flickered briefly, and she crossed her arms in her lap. "Understood, Professor."

McGonagall turned back to Harry. "Harry, if there's anything you need, do not hesitate to come to me or another professor. We want to ensure you have all the tools necessary for your success here at Hogwarts."

Harry nodded, though he could feel the tension lingering between him and Daphne. He appreciated the care being taken for his situation, but it was clear that Daphne wasn't thrilled about her new role.

McGonagall cleared her throat, signaling the end of their discussion. "You are both dismissed, but please wait outside my office. The Slytherin prefect will be along shortly to collect you and show you to the dungeons," she said, her sharp gaze softening slightly. "I suggest you use this time to get acquainted. You'll be seeing a lot of each other in the coming days."

Harry and Daphne nodded in response, rising from their seats. As they stepped outside and the office door closed behind them, the quiet of the hallway enveloped them. The stone walls of the corridor seemed to echo the silence between them as they sat down on a nearby bench to wait.

After a few moments of sitting in uncomfortable quiet, Harry decided to break the tension. "Sorry, I know you didn't ask for this," he said softly, his voice even. "But I won't make it harder than it needs to be."

Daphne remained silent for a moment, her hands folded neatly in her lap as she stared ahead. Finally, she let out a resigned sigh. "I'm not worried about you making it hard," she muttered. "I'm just worried about how the others will see this. It's not exactly glamorous being the Boy Who Lived's guide."

Harry offered a small smile, though she couldn't see it. "Trust me," he said dryly, "being the 'Boy Who Lived' isn't exactly glamorous either."

Daphne glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, her expression thoughtful but still guarded. "I suppose we'll just have to make the best of it."

Harry nodded, but after a brief pause, he turned slightly toward her, his voice more serious. "I won't let this affect you. If you're going to be my guide, then it's only right that I protect you—with the full force of the Potter name, if need be."

Daphne's head tilted slightly as she looked at him, genuine surprise flickering across her face. For a moment, her guard dropped, and she was quiet, as though considering his words. "You'd do that? For me?"

Harry nodded again. "Yeah. It's the least I can do."

Daphne hesitated before speaking, her tone softer than before. "I... appreciate that, Harry. I really do." There was sincerity in her voice, but her expression quickly hardened again, the guarded look returning. "But the truth is, I don't know you. I don't know if you can actually do it. Right now, I have to look out for myself."

Harry let out a soft sigh, understanding her hesitance. "I get it," he said. "You've got no reason to trust me yet. But I mean what I said. You're helping me, and I won't let that come back to bite you."

Daphne's lips pressed into a thin line, but she gave him a small nod, accepting his words for now, even if she wasn't ready to believe them fully. They sat in silence once more, waiting for the prefect to arrive, the faint sound of footsteps echoing from deeper within the castle.

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