Chapter Text
You finally arrived at Hogwarts, hardly traumatised with a new earned scar on your face.
After you nearly died while on the carriage with Professor Fig and ran for your life from strange wizards whom you’d never seen before, Professor informed you why.
Apparently, an evil goblin addressed as Ranrok sent an imperio-ed dragon to diverge your path. He knew you possessed ancient magic. It appeared he wanted it. So badly, in fact, that he’d kill for it.
But now you’re safe in Hogwarts. School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Putting all of the drama aside, and the eerie secrecy of the situation between you and Professor Fig, you now attended one of the largest schools in the world of magic, to your knowledge, at least. Its exterior was castle-like, the inside ancient and full of history.
You’d read about the school before, back home, when homeschooled for muggle education and wizardry; currently living as an orphan, you were raised by your two twin brothers far older than you: Sam and Lemuel. Sadly, you harboured no memories of your mum and dad, but your childhood was cheerful, nonetheless. You could thank your brothers for that.
Instantly as the doors opened, all of the stories of those before you poured into your ears in the form of chatter and melodic tunes. Looking around, you noticed many students running through the halls, all talking loudly and laughing. You smiled.
“This way. We shouldn’t be too late for the Sorting Ceremony!” Professor Fig said, leading you up the many stairs that pointed towards the Great Hall. You followed.
“The… what, sir?” you asked. You didn’t want to assume, but skimming through newspapers didn’t quite give the knowledge you’d hoped for, and it wouldn’t hurt to inquire.
“The Sorting Ceremony !” he restated, not answering your question. You decided to brush it off and continue. Surely, you’d learn about it later.
Finally, you reached the Great Hall, and were about to walk in before a man tromped over and pushed the two of you aside.
“Fig, nice of you to join us,” the man said in a strict manner. “The Sorting Ceremony’s over.” Fig huffed in retort.
“There were- complications,” Fig said, glancing over at you discreetly.
“Complications?” The man repeated, furrowing his brows.
“It seems the goblin problem has-” Fig began, but was cut short by the man groaning,
“Enough. Goblins . I’ve no time for rumours, Fig. And I’m rapidly losing whatever patience I had left,” the man said, sighing deeply as he switched his gaze over to you. He examined. “If you’re lucky, we might still be able to get you sorted this evening.”
You looked over at Fig, then back at the man hesitantly. Fig cleared his throat.
“This is Headmaster Black,” he started, hushing his volume, “I forgot to mention.”
“Phineas Nigellus Black,” Headmaster added, turning stiffly to walk back into the hall. You followed, and nodded to Fig.
“I’ll be in touch,” Fig said, before walking away hurriedly. You believed he mentioned earlier that he needed to examine the Portkey brought with; the one that led you to Ranrok, uncoincidentally. Equipped with ancient magic. After hushing your thoughts, you sped up your pace to match the headmaster's steps.
“Professor Weasley! We’ve one more to be sorted,” he exclaimed, moving aside to stand away from the stool that remained in the front of the room. All the students turned to face it.
“Welcome,” Professor Weasley said, speaking warmly. “You’re just in time. Have a seat.” She gestured towards the chair.
You nodded and sat down carefully.
The Great Hall was presented so regally, one would surely forget to breathe; it was like a dream. Floating candles, air particles like dust that fluttered beautifully, many rows of tables littered with students wearing different coloured robes, and the smell of freshly cooked food. An aroma that’d never bore.
You were pulled from your thoughts once more by a heavy feeling on your head. You peered up and noticed Professor Weasley had set a large hat on you. Curiously, you sat.
“Ah, yes- a bit older than the others, aren’t you?” The hat spoke, surprising you a bit. “You come here with preferences and preconceptions- certain expectations .” It paused, and you assumed it was for you to answer.
“I’m here to learn. I’m excited to attend my classes and explore the castle with what time I have.”
“Indeed. Much can be gleaned by having an adventurous spirit, but you’re also prepped with the need for knowledge. Hmm. Oh, but you’re brave at heart. Exceptionally daring. Undaunted by the unknown. Willing to forge ahead alone when you must. But you’ve got wit. Equipped with intelligence. A planner. Although, you’re patient at most. You work hard for the things you want. Hmm. You don’t quite hunger for power. Perhaps you belong in… Y/h!”
Applause erupted, and it seemed as though the atmosphere lit up from its previous gloom. The hat was lifted from your head, and you fixed your hair hurriedly as you stood.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Headmaster said, walking towards the centre-front to gain everyone’s attention. “Due to the unfortunate injury on the pitch in last spring’s final, this year’s Quidditch season has been… cancelled.”
The cheers from before quickly turned into boos, and you turned to him wearing a confused expression hoping to be enlightened as to what Quidditch was. He did not share a glance back, though, so you were left unanswered once again.
The next words he announced slurred in your mind as it wandered far off, and you set your gaze on someone seated at the far-left table. It was green, and all the students seated there wore green robes. Everyone was separated by colours, something you found peculiar. He met your eyes but wasn’t quick to look away. You were the first to break contact. Suddenly, the Headmaster coughed loudly, and you noticed everyone was leaving the hall.
“You have plenty to do before classes begin tomorrow,” he said, then turning to stomp away. You puffed out your cheeks to suppress your laugh.
“Quite an entrance. It’s lovely to meet you. I’m-” Professor Weasley started.
“Professor Weasley, would you be so kind as to show our new student to their common room?” Headmaster said, although the question seemed more like a demand.
“I shall see to it, sir,” she replied, pursing her lips. She turned to you and smiled. “As I was saying- I’m Professor Weasley. Pleased to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you as well, Professor,” you said, sharing a smile in return.
“As Deputy Headmistress, it is my distinct honour to show you to your common room. Right this way,” she said, and you both wandered away into the halls. “It is quite uncommon for a student to begin as a fifth year. It may be a bit of a challenge, but one I’m sure you’re up for,” she spoke again, turning to face you as her pace slowed.
“I can be quite resourceful,” you responded, tilting your head slightly to seem genuine. She nodded.
“I suspected as much. This is the entrance to the Y/h common room. Now, go on in and get some sleep. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow,” she said, gesturing towards the door that magically appeared, in more ways than one. “I shall be back in the morning to collect you for your first class.”
“Thank you, Professor Weasley,” you said, bowing slightly to her as you made your way into the Y/h commons.
“Sleep well,” you heard her say as the door closed behind you. You glanced back, but then trodden forward. Your stomach churned from nervousness, but you pushed through and walked to your dorm room, making light of the entire situation simply in your mind.