Chapter 25: A Discussion of Houses

As the Hogwarts Express continued its journey, the group sat in comfortable conversation, the topic naturally shifting towards the Sorting.

"So," Ron began, stretching his legs, "which house do you all think you'll end up in?"

Celeste crossed her legs gracefully, tilting her head in thought. "Well, my parents attended Beauxbatons, so I don't have any family tradition at Hogwarts. I don't know where I'll end up, but Ravenclaw seems fitting—I do love knowledge. Though… I wouldn't mind Slytherin either."

Ron pulled a face. "Why would anyone want Slytherin?"

Celeste's sharp blue eyes locked onto him. "And why wouldn't they?"

Ron hesitated, realizing he had unintentionally offended her. "I just meant… you know, all the dark wizards—"

Atharv rolled his eyes. "That's an overgeneralization, Ron. A house doesn't make someone evil, their choices do."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "Exactly! Slytherin values ambition and resourcefulness—there's nothing wrong with that."

Ron muttered something under his breath before quickly moving on. "What about you, Atharv?"

Atharv leaned back, thoughtful. "I suppose Ravenclaw would make sense—I love learning new things. But I also value ambition and determination, so Slytherin wouldn't be a bad fit. And courage… well, I have plenty of that. I think I'd do fine in Gryffindor too."

Ron snorted. "You sound like you could fit in any house."

Atharv smirked. "Maybe I could."

Hermione, looking excited, said, "I definitely think I'll be in Ravenclaw. I love reading and studying—it seems like the perfect place."

"But you're also quite brave," Celeste pointed out. "Gryffindor wouldn't be surprising either."

Hermione flushed. "You think so?"

"Absolutely," Atharv agreed.

Ron grinned. "Well, I'm hoping for Gryffindor—my whole family's been in it."

Harry, who had been quiet for a moment, finally spoke. "I don't know much about the houses… but Hagrid said I might do well in Gryffindor."

"You would," Celeste said softly. "You seem brave, Harry."

Harry gave a small smile. "I hope so."

As the voice echoed through the train, announcing their imminent arrival at Hogsmeade, Hermione stood up, brushing imaginary dust off her skirt.

"We should change into our robes," she said, looking at Celeste.

Celeste gave a nod before glancing toward Atharv, who was still sitting comfortably beside her. She tilted her head slightly. "You heard her, mon amour. Time for the gentlemen to step outside."

Atharv smirked at the affectionate way she spoke but stood up nonetheless. "Alright, alright. Let's go, boys."

Ron stretched before getting to his feet, while Harry followed suit.

As Atharv stepped toward the compartment door, he turned to Celeste. "Don't take too long," he teased.

Celeste rolled her eyes playfully. "Go."

With that, the three boys stepped out into the hallway, joining a few other students who were waiting outside their compartments as well.

Leaning against the wall, Ron let out a breath. "Well, this is it. We're really going to Hogwarts."

Harry nodded, his stomach fluttering with anticipation. "Yeah… it feels surreal."

Atharv crossed his arms, glancing at the windows as the darkening sky loomed over the vast Scottish landscape. "You nervous?"

Harry hesitated for a moment. "A little."

Atharv placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You'll be fine, Harry."

Ron nodded in agreement. "Yeah, mate. And hey, at least we won't be alone, right?"

Harry looked between them, feeling an unfamiliar warmth settle in his chest. A small, genuine smile formed on his lips. "Right."

The train continued to move forward, carrying them toward a future filled with magic, mystery, and the start of an unforgettable journey.

Arrival at Hogsmeade – The Journey to Hogwarts Begins

As the Hogwarts Express pulled to a stop at Hogsmeade Station, the excitement among the students was palpable. The sound of footsteps echoed as compartment doors slid open, and first-years flooded the narrow corridors, eager to step off the train and get their first real glimpse of the wizarding world's most renowned school.

Atharv, Celeste, Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way out onto the platform, the crisp night air biting at their skin. The station was dimly lit, the cool autumn breeze rustling through their robes. Before they could take in their surroundings, a deep, booming voice called out—

"Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here!"

The group turned toward the towering figure of Rubeus Hagrid, his massive form standing head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd. His wild beard and beetle-black eyes gleamed under the lantern he held high.

Harry grinned and gestured toward him. "That's Hagrid! He was the one who came to get me from the Dursleys."

Celeste looked at the half-giant with curiosity, while Atharv offered a small nod of acknowledgment.

As they approached, Harry led the introductions. "Hagrid, this is Atharv Mishra and Celeste de Montclair. They're new here too."

Hagrid beamed at them, his large face crinkling with warmth. "Aye, I know who ya are, lad! Hard not to, what with that Phoenix of yours causin' a stir!" He turned to Celeste, his eyes twinkling kindly. "An' you must be the Montclair girl. Lotta history in yer family name."

Celeste gave a graceful nod, her sapphire eyes shining. "It's a pleasure, Monsieur Hagrid."

Atharv smirked. "You've certainly made quite the impression already, Celeste."

She gave him a teasing nudge. "As if you haven't."

Hagrid chuckled at their exchange before turning back to the rest of the first-years. "Right then! No more dilly-dallyin'—follow me! The boats are this way!"

The first-years followed Hagrid down a winding path toward the edge of the Great Lake. The dark water reflected the moonlight, casting an almost ethereal glow over the surface.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called.

Atharv turned to Celeste and offered his hand, a small, reassuring gesture amidst the night's excitement. She accepted it gracefully, stepping carefully into one of the boats. Atharv followed, making sure she was steady before sitting down beside her.

"Thank you, mon amour," Celeste murmured, her voice carrying the warmth of her affection.

He smirked. "Always."

Harry and Ron climbed into their own boat nearby, while Hermione hesitated before joining Atharv and Celeste. Just as they were getting settled, the boat dipped slightly as Hagrid himself took a seat beside them.

"Oh! You're riding with us, Hagrid?" Hermione asked, surprised.

Hagrid gave a hearty chuckle. "Yeah, well, some o' these boats need a bit o' stabilizin' with all you little ones in 'em."

The boats began moving on their own, gliding smoothly across the black water. As they neared the center of the lake, a hush fell over the students.

Then—

A gasp rippled through the boats as Hogwarts Castle came into view.

The grand, towering structure sat atop a cliff, illuminated by thousands of glowing lights from within. Its turrets and towers stretched toward the sky, a beacon of magic and history.

Even Atharv, who had seen many magnificent sights in his life, felt an undeniable awe settle within him.

Celeste, too, stared in wonder, her fingers instinctively gripping Atharv's hand. "It's… beautiful," she whispered.

Atharv glanced down at her, a soft smile touching his lips. "It really is."

The boats continued forward, carrying them toward the castle—their new home for the years to come.

The Gathering of First-Years

As the boats gently touched the shore, the first-years clambered out onto the rocky ground, their eyes still drawn to the towering form of Hogwarts above them. The cool night air was filled with whispers, excitement, and nervous energy as the students took in their surroundings.

Yet, even amongst the grandeur of Hogwarts, a different kind of attention filled the air.

The moment Atharv, Celeste, and Harry stepped onto the shore, eyes turned toward them for very different reasons.

Atharv, with his striking white hair, crimson eyes, and an ethereal grace, commanded awe and admiration. His name was already well-known, but seeing him in person—his presence was something else entirely.

Celeste, walking beside him with effortless elegance, her golden-blonde hair catching the moonlight, looked every bit like the noble heiress she was. The beauty of the Montclair name had always been legendary, but seeing Celeste in real life, draped in an aura of confidence and refinement, was something else entirely.

And then, there was Harry Potter.

The whispers about him were different—filled with intrigue, disbelief, and curiosity. The famous Boy Who Lived, the child who had survived You-Know-Who. Many students stole glances at his forehead, eager to confirm the presence of the infamous lightning-shaped scar.

Atharv and Celeste ignored the stares, as if completely unfazed by the attention. They had long since learned to tune out the world's murmurs.

But Harry, unused to such scrutiny, shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't sure whether he liked being the center of attention. He kept his head slightly down, trying to act as if he didn't notice the whispering students.

Atharv caught the uncertainty on Harry's face and, without hesitation, placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Ignore them," he said in a calm, reassuring tone. "They don't matter."

Celeste nodded in agreement, giving Harry an encouraging look. "They will always talk, mon cher. Let them."

Harry let out a breath, feeling a little more grounded.

Just then, he stumbled slightly on the rocky ground while stepping forward.

Ron immediately reached out. "Oi, you alright there, mate?"

Hermione, ever the helpful one, looked concerned. "You should be careful! The rocks are uneven here."

Before Harry could fully regain his footing, Atharv smoothly reached out and pulled him up with ease.

Harry gave a sheepish chuckle. "Thanks. Guess I'm not used to all this."

"No worries, mate," Ron said, grinning. "It's all a bit overwhelming."

The moment was brief, but it cemented something unspoken between them—a quiet bond forming between the group.

Just then, the sound of a door opening caught their attention.

Professor McGonagall, standing tall and severe in her emerald green robes, looked over the gathered first-years with a piercing gaze.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said in a crisp, authoritative voice. "In a few moments, you will enter the castle and be sorted into your houses. These houses will be like your family while you are here at Hogwarts. But before that, I expect you all to compose yourselves and wait here in an orderly manner."

The first-years quieted down instantly, a sense of nervous anticipation filling the air.

As they stood waiting, the hushed whispers of students continued, mostly focused on Atharv, Celeste, and Harry. But then—

A familiar drawling voice cut through the air.

"So, it's true then."

They turned to see Draco Malfoy, flanked by his usual hulking shadows, Crabbe and Goyle. His pale face was set in a smirk as his sharp grey eyes landed on Harry.

"Harry Potter," he continued, stepping closer. "I was wondering if we'd meet."

Harry, not quite sure how to respond, simply looked at him warily.

Draco tilted his head slightly before giving a casual, almost lazy smile. "You'll find that some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. I can help you there."

Then, with an air of self-importance, he turned slightly and gestured to himself.

"The name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

A snort broke the moment.

Draco's gaze snapped to the source of the sound—Ron, who was struggling to hold back his laughter.

"Sorry," Ron wheezed, barely containing himself, "but—Malfoy? That's actually your name?"

Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And what, exactly, is so funny about my name, Weasley?"

Ron, still grinning, waved a hand. "Nothing, nothing—" but his face clearly showed otherwise. "It's just—Draco Malfoy? It sounds like a name someone would make up to sound important."

Atharv let out a soft chuckle, his crimson eyes glinting with amusement, while Celeste raised a perfectly arched brow.

Draco's pale complexion darkened, and his lips curled in irritation. "I suppose someone like you wouldn't understand the weight of an ancient name, Weasley. After all, your family is barely respectable."

Ron's grin faltered, his jaw clenching, but before he could respond, Draco's gaze dropped to his robes, and his smirk widened cruelly.

"Honestly, I don't know why I'm surprised. Just look at you—wearing second-hand robes that are practically falling apart. I wouldn't be caught dead in something that pathetic."

As Draco finished his sneering remark about Ron's clothes, the air around them grew tense. Ron's ears turned red, but before he could retort, a smooth, measured voice sliced through the tension.

"How terribly dull."

The words, though spoken softly, carried a weight that made the entire group pause. All eyes turned to Atharv Mishra, who stood with a poised elegance that made him seem untouchable, an aura of effortless confidence surrounding him.

Draco turned, his smug smirk faltering as he met Atharv's crimson gaze—piercing, unreadable, and utterly unbothered.

"It's amusing," Atharv continued, tilting his head ever so slightly, "how those who truly lack greatness feel the need to declare themselves superior. As if wealth alone determines one's worth."

Draco bristled, trying to regain his composure. "And what would you know about it, Mishra?" he snapped. "You're nothing but some—"

"A prodigy?" Atharv finished for him, his lips curving into a faint smirk. "A name recognized in both the Muggle and wizarding worlds? A self-made success who didn't have to hide behind his father's name?"

Draco's mouth snapped shut. Crabbe and Goyle, usually quick to back him up, suddenly looked uncertain. The watching students whispered among themselves, staring at Atharv in awe.

Celeste, standing beside him, gazed at him with admiration, knowing exactly where this was going. She laced her fingers with his—subtle, reassuring.

Atharv continued, his voice smooth yet laced with quiet power. "You speak of money, Malfoy, as if it places you above others. But tell me... have you ever wondered how small your wealth is compared to the true elite of this world?"

Draco stiffened.

"Do you truly believe that the Malfoys are the richest, most powerful family?" Atharv's gaze darkened slightly. "There exist families whose wealth could crush yours without a second thought. And I do mean 'crush,' Malfoy."

Celeste's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Ah, but they don't, because they have something the Malfoys seem to lack—class."

Draco's face burned red. He wanted to argue, but something about the way Atharv spoke—calm, assured, with the kind of unshakable confidence that couldn't be faked—made him hesitate.

"Tell me, Malfoy," Atharv pressed, "does it make you feel powerful, belittling others? Does it give you some fleeting sense of self-worth?"

Draco swallowed, his arrogance cracking.

"You're right about one thing," Atharv continued. "Some wizarding families truly are better than others. But not because of their blood or their gold."

His next words came out sharper, a final blow that left the hall breathless.

"A person's worth isn't measured by their lineage, Malfoy. It's measured by their character. And if this—" he gestured at Draco's sneering face "—is all your so-called noble heritage has produced, then perhaps it wasn't so noble after all."

Silence.

The watching students gaped. Even McGonagall, who had returned to call order, paused with the faintest flicker of intrigue in her eyes.

Draco stood frozen, utterly humiliated, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He wanted to retaliate, to say something—anything—but nothing came. For the first time in his life, someone had truly put him in his place.

After a long moment, Atharv gave a small, dismissive shake of his head.

"Come, Celeste," he said simply. "Let's not waste our time on a child who believes his father's money makes him a man."

With that, he turned, radiating an effortless grace that made it clear that he had already dismissed Draco from his thoughts.

Celeste followed, her hand still in his, giving Draco one last, unimpressed glance before looking away entirely.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione stared, stunned into silence. Even Ron, who had expected to be the one defending himself, found himself at a loss for words.

Draco, pale and humiliated, turned sharply on his heel and stormed away, Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind him, their usual intimidation completely absent.

A beat of silence.

Then, Ron let out a low whistle.

"Blimey," he muttered. "That was... something else."

Harry shook his head, looking at Atharv with something close to admiration. "Yeah, I don't think I've ever seen someone shut up someone with just words like that."

Hermione, still a bit stunned, finally managed to speak. "That was the most eloquent verbal destruction I've ever heard."

Celeste, her eyes still fixed on Atharv, gave a soft, knowing smile.

"He does have a way with words," she murmured, squeezing his hand slightly.

Atharv said nothing—he didn't need to. The statement had been made. The hierarchy had shifted. And Draco Malfoy had just learned a lesson he wouldn't soon forget.

Entering the Great Hall

Professor McGonagall led the first-years through the grand double doors of the Great Hall, the towering ceiling reflecting the night sky, enchanted candles floating in midair, and four long tables filled with older students who had turned their full attention to the newcomers.

The first-years shuffled in, wide-eyed and nervous—except for a select few.

At the very front of the group, Atharv Mishra and Celeste de Montclair walked together, their fingers subtly entwined, moving with an effortless grace that made them look like young royalty stepping into court.

Beside them, Harry Potter entered hesitantly, his messy hair and lightning-shaped scar already drawing attention. On his other side, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger followed, their eyes darting around the room, absorbing the grandeur of the castle.

But it was Atharv, Celeste, and Harry who drew the most attention.

The Whispering Begins

It started as hushed murmurs, rippling across the hall like wildfire.

"Look, it's him—Harry Potter!""Is that Atharv Mishra? From the Muggle world? The singer?""That girl next to him—who is she? She's stunning!""De Montclair? Wait, as in that de Montclair family? But they never send their children to Hogwarts!"

The Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and even Hufflepuff tables were filled with curiosity and excitement, their gazes flickering between Harry, Atharv, and Celeste.

The Slytherin table, however, held a different reaction. Many of the pureblood students knew exactly who Celeste was—a de Montclair, the richest and most prestigious pureblood family in France. But seeing her fingers laced with Atharv's, a Muggle-born, made their expressions darken.

The Professors' Reactions

At the head table, the professors had their own thoughts.

Dumbledore

Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes rested on Harry first, a quiet but deep warmth in his expression. But then his gaze drifted, lingering on Atharv and Celeste, curiosity flashing behind his half-moon spectacles.

Atharv Mishra, the child prodigy whose name even Dumbledore had heard through his connections in the Muggle world.

And Celeste de Montclair, a name that carried as much weight in the wizarding world as the any most ancient family, perhaps even more.

For a family so deeply connected to Beauxbatons to send their heir to Hogwarts was unusual—very unusual.

"Interesting," Dumbledore mused to himself, his fingers steepling.

Professor Snape

Severus Snape's dark eyes flickered with something unreadable as he gazed at Harry Potter's messy hair and Lily's familiar green eyes. His lips curled slightly, as if already displeased.

Then, his gaze shifted to Atharv and Celeste, lingering on their poised forms.

"The de Montclair girl here? And willingly betrothed to a Muggle-born? How... peculiar."

Snape had no patience for celebrity, and Atharv reeked of it—the boy carried himself like someone accustomed to attention, but without arrogance. That annoyed him even more.

Professor McGonagall

McGonagall, who had just led the first-years in, kept a neutral expression, but her sharp eyes were carefully observing each of them.

Harry Potter—The Boy Who Lived.
Atharv Mishra—A Muggle-born prodigy whose name even reached wizarding circles.
Celeste de Montclair—A pureblood heiress who should have gone to Beauxbatons but was here instead.

She adjusted her spectacles, making a mental note.

Hagrid

Hagrid, sitting at the far end of the staff table, beamed when he saw Harry introduce his friends.

"Good ter see 'im makin' friends already."

But then he noticed Atharv and Celeste—and even he was a bit taken aback as he noticed them properly now.

"Blimey, they look like they walked straight outta some fairytale."

The Sorting Awaits

As the whispers continued, Atharv remained unbothered, his expression calm, even when Celeste subtly tightened her hold on his hand at the sheer number of eyes on them.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, his hand brushing against his scar as he felt dozens of curious gazes land on him.

Ron, oblivious to most of it, muttered, "Blimey, people are staring loads."

Hermione, adjusting her robes, looked at them. "Of course they are. We have Harry Potter, Atharv Mishra, and Celeste de Montclair standing together. We might as well be walking headlines!"

Celeste, though composed, leaned closer to Atharv and murmured, "They're staring so much. It's like they've never seen another human being before."

Atharv gave a small chuckle. "They'll get used to it soon enough."

A moment later, McGonagall clapped her hands, silencing the murmurs.

"When I call your name, you will come forward and be sorted."

The Sorting Hat, placed on a wooden stool, came to life, and the Great Hall hushed.

The sorting was about to begin.

The Sorting Ceremony

The Great Hall shimmered under the glow of floating candles, the enchanted ceiling reflecting the starry night sky. The long tables of the four houses stretched before them, filled with students whispering excitedly as the first-years were led inside. At the very front, a battered old hat sat on a stool—one that suddenly sprang to life, much to the shock of many.

"Ah, another year, another set of bright young minds to sort," the Sorting Hat mused, its voice echoing across the hall. "Let's begin, shall we?"

Professor McGonagall unrolled a long parchment.

Atharv Mishra's Turn

"Mishra, Atharv!"

A wave of murmurs swept through the hall.

The name was already legendary in the Muggle world, and many half-bloods and Muggle-borns in the hall recognized it instantly. Some whispered in awe, while others, unfamiliar with Muggle fame, simply stared at the boy who carried himself with an unshakable air of grace and quiet confidence.

Atharv walked forward unhurriedly, his posture straight, his movements fluid and effortless, as if every step was perfectly measured. The whispers only grew when he lowered himself onto the stool with practiced ease, the very image of composure.

As the Sorting Hat was placed upon his head, it chuckled deeply in his mind.

"Oh, now this is fascinating."

Atharv remained silent, waiting.

"Brilliance, ambition, talent… and such natural leadership. You could rule in Slytherin, shine in Ravenclaw, inspire in Gryffindor, and unify in Hufflepuff. A rare balance, indeed."

"I will make my own path," Atharv thought, his mind steady.

"Oh, but your heart has already chosen, hasn't it?" the hat mused, amusement laced in its voice.

Atharv didn't respond.

"Yes… yes, I see now. Very well— GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table erupted in cheers, some students standing to get a better look at him. Atharv removed the hat with ease, stepped off the stool, and strode towards his new house with a faint, almost imperceptible smile.

At the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy narrowed his eyes slightly. A Muggle-born in Gryffindor… but one who carried himself like royalty? Interesting.

Celeste de Montclair's Turn

"De Montclair, Celeste!"

If Atharv had caused whispers, Celeste's name caused an absolute stir.

Gasps, hushed whispers, and wide eyes filled the hall. The de Montclair family was one of the wealthiest and most powerful in the wizarding world—a pureblood lineage so prestigious that many had assumed she would attend Beauxbatons.

Instead, Celeste walked forward with poise befitting a princess, her pale golden hair cascading down her back, her movements graceful as a swan's glide across still water.

The Sorting Hat barely rested on her head before speaking.

"Ah… a de Montclair. I haven't sorted one in ages."

Celeste remained serene, her expression calm.

"Ambition, intelligence, grace… You could rule in Slytherin, like many before you. With that mind, Ravenclaw would welcome you. Yet… I see something stronger."

Celeste's gaze flickered briefly to the Gryffindor table, where Atharv sat watching her, his crimson red eyes steady.

"Yes, I see it clearly. Your path is beside him, and your courage will shape the future. There's only one place for you— GRYFFINDOR!"

Celeste stepped down with the same elegant confidence, gliding toward Gryffindor. When she reached her seat, she sat beside Atharv without hesitation, and their hands met beneath the table—fingers intertwined in a silent promise.

Harry Potter's Turn

"Potter, Harry!"

The entire hall fell silent.

A wave of murmurs spread instantly.

"Did she say Potter?""THE Harry Potter?""I can see his scar!"

Harry felt his stomach tighten as he walked to the stool, feeling dozens of eyes on him. As the hat was placed over his head, he heard it whisper:

"Ah… difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either… and a thirst to prove yourself… where shall I put you?"

"Not Slytherin," Harry thought desperately.

"Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You could be great, you know."

"No—not Slytherin," Harry thought again, more firmly.

"Well, if you're sure… better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Gryffindor roared with approval as Harry grinned in relief, hurrying over to join Atharv and Celeste.

Ron Weasley's Turn

"Weasley, Ronald!"

Ron gulped and walked forward, muttering under his breath, "Please not Slytherin… Please not Slytherin…"

The Sorting Hat chuckled in his mind.

"Ah, another Weasley. I know just where to put you— GRYFFINDOR!"

Ron sprinted toward the Gryffindor table, sighing in relief.

Hermione Granger's Turn

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione practically ran to the stool, excitement written all over her face. The hat barely touched her head before it declared:

"GRYFFINDOR!"

She beamed, rushing over to sit beside Celeste, barely containing her joy.

A New Beginning

As the Sorting concluded, the Great Hall erupted into chatter. The Gryffindor table was especially lively, as Harry Potter, Celeste de Montclair, and Atharv Mishra had all joined their ranks.

Atharv sat comfortably, one arm resting on the table, his fingers still lightly entwined with Celeste's beneath it.

"Well," Ron said, grinning. "Looks like we're all in Gryffindor together."

Harry smiled. "Yeah… we really are."

Hermione, still brimming with excitement, glanced at Celeste and Atharv, who both carried themselves with an air of unshaken confidence and quiet power.

"Gryffindor is going to be interesting this year," she thought.

Celeste and Atharv exchanged a look, both knowing the same thing—this was only the beginning.

The Great Feast & Dormitory Conversations

As the Sorting Hat was carried away, Professor Dumbledore rose from his seat, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. The hall immediately fell silent, all eyes turning to the legendary Headmaster of Hogwarts.

"Welcome, welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!" he greeted, his voice warm and filled with quiet authority. "Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are—"

He smiled playfully.

"Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

There was a brief moment of stunned silence, followed by scattered laughter from the students who had heard of Dumbledore's eccentric ways.

"Now that we have that out of the way—let the feast begin!"

The golden plates and goblets on the tables instantly filled with delicious food, a sight that caused murmurs of delight throughout the hall.

A Meal Among Friends

As the new Gryffindors settled in, Atharv and Celeste found themselves side by side as usual, their presence attracting many curious glances from around the Great Hall. Harry sat across from them, still taking in everything, while Ron and Hermione joined them at the table.

Celeste took a sip of pumpkin juice before looking around. "I must admit, the ambiance here is rather charming."

Atharv smirked slightly. "A bit loud, but I suppose that adds to the warmth."

Ron, already stuffing his mouth with chicken, spoke between bites. "'S'mazing! Hogwarts food's the best!"

Harry chuckled, finally allowing himself to relax. "I don't think I've ever had a meal like this before."

Celeste gave him a soft smile. "Then you shall enjoy it all the more, Harry."

As the group ate, the whispers around the hall didn't stop—some directed at Harry, but many at Atharv and Celeste. Their presence was simply too striking to ignore.

"Are they from some royal wizarding family?""Did you see her? She's even more stunning than Veelas!""And him—I've never seen anyone with eyes like that!"

Atharv, ever composed, ignored the stares effortlessly, cutting his food with quiet precision. Celeste did the same, though her lips twitched in mild amusement.

Harry, however, was still getting used to attention. "Are people always this nosy?" he muttered.

Atharv chuckled. "You'll get used to it."

Dumbledore's Announcements

After what felt like hours of eating, the food finally vanished from the tables, leaving only satisfied students and golden goblets of pumpkin juice. Dumbledore rose once again.

"A few more words before we head to our dormitories," he said. "First-years should take note that the Forbidden Forest is, as its name suggests, forbidden."

His eyes flickered toward the Gryffindor table, where Fred and George Weasley exchanged mischievous grins.

"Our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has also asked me to remind you that magic is not to be used in the corridors between classes. And finally, Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested should contact Madam Hooch."

He clapped his hands together, smiling.

"And with that, let us retire for the night. Prefects, please lead your Houses to their respective dormitories."

The Gryffindor Tower Journey

The Gryffindor prefect, Percy Weasley, stood up and cleared his throat.

"First-years, follow me!"

The crowd of new Gryffindors followed Percy as he led them through the twisting corridors of Hogwarts. The castle, with its moving staircases, floating candles, and endless hallways, felt like something out of a dream.

"Wow," Harry whispered. "This place is incredible."

"It really is," Celeste agreed, running her fingers over the ancient stone walls as they passed.

Atharv, ever observant, muttered, "The magic embedded in these walls… it's old. Very old."

Ron nudged Harry. "Bet we'll get lost in here at least ten times before we figure it out."

Eventually, they reached a large portrait of a fat lady in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she asked in a singsong voice.

"Caput Draconis," Percy announced.

The portrait swung open, revealing the Gryffindor common room—a cozy, warmly lit space with crackling fireplaces, squashy armchairs, and red-and-gold banners hanging from the ceiling.

"Boys' dormitory is on the left, girls' on the right," Percy instructed. "Get some rest, everyone. Classes begin tomorrow."

The Gryffindor Common Room

As the first-years entered the Gryffindor common room, the warm golden glow of the fireplaces flickered over their faces. The soft hum of conversations from the older students created a cozy atmosphere.

Celeste, standing beside Atharv, brushed a few strands of golden blonde hair behind her ear, her blue eyes flickering over the room with quiet interest. Atharv, ever composed, simply took in the ancient yet welcoming space with a small nod of approval.

Ron yawned loudly, stretching. "Blimey, I can barely keep my eyes open."

"You'll need all the rest you can get," Hermione quipped. "Classes start tomorrow, and from what I've read, Hogwarts doesn't go easy on first-years."

Harry chuckled. He still wasn't used to having friends, but it felt… good.

Just as Percy Weasley finished explaining the dormitory arrangement, the boys turned toward the staircase leading to their side, while the girls prepared to head in the opposite direction.

Celeste looked up at Atharv, a gentle fondness in her gaze. She took a small step closer, her delicate hand reaching for his.

"Bonne nuit, mon amour," she whispered softly, her voice barely above a breath.

Atharv tilted his head slightly, crimson eyes meeting hers as a small smile tugged at his lips. With a natural grace, he leaned down and placed a light, fleeting kiss on her forehead, his lips brushing against her soft porcelain skin.

Celeste smiled at the warmth, her heart swelling with a quiet happiness. Before stepping away, she gently lifted herself on her toes, placing a quick, chaste kiss on his cheek, her touch as delicate as a feather.

The common room had grown noticeably quieter, several students stealing glances at the scene. A few whispers echoed around them, but neither Atharv nor Celeste seemed to care. This was a moment for them, and them alone.

Ron blinked. "Right. So that's a thing. I keep forgetting you two are, y'know…"

"Betrothed?" Hermione offered, arms crossed. "You'll get used to it."

Harry, watching the exchange, smiled to himself. He had never seen such a natural and deep connection between two people before, and though he didn't entirely understand it, he respected it.

Atharv, ever the epitome of elegance, offered Celeste a final glance, his voice low but warm. "Sleep well, Celeste."

"Always, when I dream of you," she murmured back, before turning toward the girls' dormitory.

As she disappeared up the stairs, Atharv turned, expression neutral once more, and followed Harry and Ron into their own dormitory.

For the first time in years, he, too, felt at home.

Settling In – Boys' Dormitory

Atharv, Harry, and Ron entered their dormitory, where their trunks had already been placed at the foot of their four-poster beds.

Ron flopped down immediately, sighing. "What a day. Bet tomorrow's gonna be even crazier."

Harry sat on his bed, running his hand over the soft scarlet sheets. He still couldn't believe it—he was at Hogwarts, and for the first time in his life… he had friends.

Across from him, Atharv sat calmly, untying his robes with practiced ease. His crimson eyes flickered in the dim candlelight as he glanced at Harry.

"Get some sleep, Harry. Tomorrow, our real journey begins."

Harry smiled. For the first time in his life, he felt truly at home.