"Professor, it’s really important that I see Harry before the Sorting Ceremony begins," I said, trying to keep the edge of urgency from my voice as I faced Professor McGonagall. Her silver-streaked hair was pinned meticulously, and her sharp eyes softened with sympathy.
"I understand, Miss Potter," she replied with a sigh, "but the first years are nearly all sorted. Even if you had mentioned this earlier, it would have been difficult. I could have arranged to delay the meeting, but now, I’m afraid it’s too late." Her gaze lingered on me apologetically.
Great. Just when I wanted to make a good impression, the chance slipped away without a fight.
"No worries," I forced a smile, trying to mask my disappointment. "Thank you, Professor McGonagall. I’ll head to the Great Hall now." She opened the door for me, offering a kind nod. "Best of luck, Miss Potter."
Standing before the grand doors leading to the Great Hall, I steadied my breath. No pep talk, no preparation could truly steel me for what awaited inside. I swallowed my nerves and pushed the massive doors open with a steady exhale.
Right as I stepped inside, a sharp, familiar voice called, "Y/n Potter!" I blinked, turning to see Professor McGonagall standing there, as if she had just appeared out of thin air. The confusion knotted inside me—how was she in two places at once? But magic worked in mysterious ways.
My eyes darted through the rows of students murmuring amongst themselves, searching for Harry. The Gryffindor table, draped in scarlet and gold, sat across the hall. It wasn’t until I nearly reached the front that our eyes met—his green gaze wide with surprise, perhaps even shock. I couldn’t read the expression clearly; it was a mix of everything.
Whispers erupted the moment my name echoed through the hall—repeated at least a dozen times, accompanied by gasps and murmurs. "Enough!" Professor McGonagall’s sharp voice cut through the chatter, silencing the hall immediately. She smiled reassuringly at me, and I returned the gesture, grateful for the calm she brought.
Breaking eye contact with Harry only for a moment, I seated myself on the stool as the Sorting Hat was carefully placed on my head. A voice echoed inside my mind, tinged with amusement, "Merlin’s beard, there’s a whirlwind of thoughts in there. Another Potter, is it? Ambitious, yes... courageous, certainly... but not foolish." It paused thoughtfully before continuing. "You’re determined, clever, and you know exactly what you want—a cunning spirit. I know just where you belong!" The Sorting Hat’s loud proclamation rang out: "Slytherin!"
Harry’s eyes widened as the words hit the hall. I caught the moment his attention shifted sharply from me to the two students by his side, whispering harshly about the unexpected news. The room fell into a stunned silence, everyone grappling with the question: why was a Potter in Slytherin?
Then, as if a switch flipped, the Slytherin table exploded in cheers, whistles, and applause, chanting my name and beckoning me over enthusiastically. I shot a final glance at Harry, who still refused to meet my gaze, before rising confidently and striding toward the emerald-colored table that Professor McGonagall indicated.
Green suited me better than red, I thought wryly, a small smirk curling my lips.
As I scanned the Slytherin table for familiar faces, I realized neither River nor Emilie was seated there. Still, the welcome I received was warm enough—handshakes, laughter, and curious but friendly looks—as I settled into one of the few empty seats.
"Wren Inkwood," a girl beside me said, extending her hand. I grasped it with a smile. She smiled back, inching closer as if to share a secret.
From a few seats away, a sarcastic voice cut through the murmur. "How very unexpected," Draco Malfoy sneered, his blonde hair gleaming under the enchanted ceiling. I turned my gaze toward him, unimpressed.
Truth be told, I wasn’t surprised. He seemed to believe the Sorting Hat had barely touched my head before deciding my fate. "How very expected," I replied coolly, a sly smile tugging at my mouth as I rolled my eyes.
Before I could respond further, a firm hand landed on my shoulder, making me startle. I spun around to see Harry, his face etched with earnestness. "Let’s talk," he said quietly, not waiting for an answer as he gently took my arm and guided me out of the Great Hall.
Outside, away from prying eyes and murmurs, Harry’s protective presence was unmistakable. "I had no idea you were coming," he confessed softly. "Why didn’t anyone tell me about you?"
I kept my expression guarded but softened slightly. "It’s complicated," I admitted. "I didn’t want to just show up and be known as ‘Harry’s sister.’ I need to find my own way here."
Harry nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes. "I get that. But we’re family now, Y/n. And I want to help you—if you’ll let me."
A flicker of warmth broke through my defenses. Maybe forging my own path wouldn’t mean walking alone after all.