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Chapter 27 - The Sorting

The Sorting

Professor McGonagall returned, stern and composed, her tartan-trimmed robes swishing as she swept the first-years through the towering oak doors.

The Great Hall burst upon them in all its glory. Hundreds of candles floated in mid-air, their flames steady despite the vast draft that stirred the banners above. The ceiling shimmered like a velvet dome of night, stars glittering, clouds drifting lazily across its enchanted depths.

Hermione Granger gasped in delight. "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."

Four long tables stretched down the hall, packed with students, their eyes fixed on the newcomers. At the far end rose the staff table, where the teachers sat on a dais. Professor Dumbledore presided in the center, serene behind his half-moon spectacles. To his right, Professor Quirrell fidgeted beneath his absurd purple turban, the faint smell of garlic clinging to him. To his left, Professor Snape sat stiff and still, his black eyes glinting like cold stone.

At the front of the hall, a shabby hat lay upon a stool. The rip at its brim widened, and in a voice old and knowing, it sang of the four Houses: courage for Gryffindor, wit for Ravenclaw, loyalty for Hufflepuff, and ambition for Slytherin. The song faded into silence, and Professor McGonagall stepped forward with her parchment.

📝 The Sorting

Names were called one by one.

Hannah Abbott went to Hufflepuff. Susan Bones joined her. Terry Boot and Mandy Brocklehurst were claimed by Ravenclaw. Lavender Brown became the first new Gryffindor. Millicent Bulstrode went to Slytherin.

Justin Finch-Fletchley was Hufflepuff, Seamus Finnigan Gryffindor. Hermione Granger sat under the Hat so long that whispers filled the hall before she was declared Gryffindor.

Daphne Greengrass joined Slytherin after a brief murmur from the Hat about "ice and steel beneath courtesy." Neville Longbottom trembled his way to Gryffindor, though the Hat had nearly sent him to Hufflepuff. Draco Malfoy barely touched the stool before Slytherin claimed him.

Parvati Patil was sent to Gryffindor, Padma to Ravenclaw. Pansy Parkinson followed Draco into Slytherin. Harry Potter—after a desperate plea of "Not Slytherin"—was declared Gryffindor to a roar of cheers. Dean Thomas joined him, Tracey Davis went to Slytherin, Lisa Turpin to Ravenclaw, Ron Weasley to Gryffindor, and Blaise Zabini to Slytherin.

The House tables rang with applause. It seemed the Sorting was complete—

🌑 The Last Name

Professor McGonagall's lips thinned as she read the bottom of the parchment."Void L. Emrys."

The name rippled through the hall like a pebble dropped in still water. Students craned to see. Even the professors shifted subtly.

Void walked forward in silence, his black suit catching the candlelight.

Before he reached the stool, something brushed his mind—gentle but probing. Dumbledore's gaze lingered, pressing softly, testing. Then another presence: sharp, invasive, edged with hunger. Voldemort, coiled in Quirrell's skull, clawed forward.

Both touches recoiled at once, striking walls of obsidian stillness. His mind was closed, impenetrable. Natural Occlumency, they would think. A boy whose thoughts could not be touched.

Void sat. The Sorting Hat slipped over his head, and the world disappeared.

🎩 Inside the Hat

"Well, well," the Hat murmured in his mind, ancient and amused. "This is no ordinary mind. Threads of Merlin, strands of Morgana—I knew them both. They advised me, once. Their counsel still lies in my seams. But you—"

The voice grew hushed."Salazar's mark runs through you. Stronger than any I have ever touched. Riddle was clever. Gaunt had blood. But you—your veins hum with his cadence, his ambition, his gift of serpents. Not a pretender's heir. Slytherin's own made flesh."

"I am no one's pawn," Void thought coldly. "Not Salazar's. Not Dumbledore's. Not yours."

The Hat chuckled. "Defiant. Just like him. Salazar prized independence above all. He would smile to see you. And yet… you could suit them all. Ravenclaw's wit, Hufflepuff's endurance, even Gryffindor's daring. Dumbledore would have placed you there, beside Potter, bound to his story."

"Not Gryffindor," Void said sharply. "That is his stage. I will not dance to his tune."

The Hat's tone grew approving. "Ravenclaw offers obscurity. Hufflepuff, refuge. But Slytherin—you would not only belong, you could rule. And rule well."

Void's thoughts sharpened. "Slytherin may serve me—but it will never own me."

"Ah," the Hat whispered, "and that is exactly why you are worthy. Not a servant, but a true heir: cunning, independent, unbent."

And aloud, it bellowed for all to hear:

"SLYTHERIN!"

🍽️ The Feast

The Slytherin table erupted in cheers. Yet to everyone's shock, the loudest applause came from the Gryffindor table—Fred and George Weasley pounding the table, shouting, "Way to go, Void! Looks brilliant in green, mate!"

Gasps and laughter rippled across the hall. Dumbledore's eyes flickered—twinkle masking disappointment. Snape's expression did not change, but his gaze lingered on Void with something unreadable. McGonagall pursed her lips, unsettled by the twins' enthusiasm.

The golden plates filled themselves. There was roast beef, lamb chops, pork, chicken, sausages, bacon, boiled and roast potatoes, rich gravy, peas, carrots, Yorkshire puddings, and tureens of buttered corn. Jugs of pumpkin juice shimmered among the dishes.

Students dug in eagerly.

Void considered the spread, then asked, perfectly calmly, "Do they have ramen?"

A pause. His plate shimmered, and a slip of parchment appeared.

We regret to inform you: ramen is not in our recipe collection.

A few Slytherins snickered. Void only smiled faintly. "No worries." He served himself at random, tasting roast potatoes, buttered peas, and pork.

Desserts followed: treacle tart, chocolate eclairs, trifles, and great dishes of ice cream. The hall rang with laughter as Dumbledore led the school song, each House singing to a different tune, the Weasley twins dragging theirs out into a dirge.

Void tried a spoonful of trifle. "Acceptable," he murmured.

🧭 The Moving Staircases

When the Feast ended, Dumbledore rose. "Bedtime, I think! Off you trot!"

The benches scraped, and the prefects gathered their first-years.

The Slytherin prefect, Gemma Farley, tall, dark-haired, and brisk, called them together."Follow me. Keep up, or the castle will eat you alive," she said dryly, sweeping her green-trimmed robes behind her.

They climbed the marble staircase in the Entrance Hall, passing the giant hourglasses filled with jewels—Gryffindor rubies, Ravenclaw sapphires, Hufflepuff diamonds, Slytherin emeralds. Points already glittered faintly, waiting to mark victories and punishments.

The halls above hummed with portraits whispering and watching. A knight in armor saluted them, visor clanging. A group of giggling witches in a painting waved their fans as the line of first-years passed.

Then the staircases groaned and shifted. Steps slid and swung to meet new landings. The group staggered. Tracey clutched Daphne's arm, wide-eyed. Blaise muttered, "That's… unsettling." Draco tried to sneer, but his expression betrayed him.

Void only watched, noting the rhythm. "Patterns," he thought. "Not chaos. Defenses… or Salazar's games."

🐍 Descent into the Dungeons

At last Gemma turned away from the upper halls and led them down, down, into the castle's cold belly. The stone grew darker, the air damper, the scent of the Black Lake seeping into their lungs. Their footsteps echoed, mingling with the distant sound of dripping water.

They stopped before a bare stretch of wall. Gemma faced it and said crisply:"Pure-blood."

The stones melted apart into an archway.

🏰 The Slytherin Common Room

The chamber was long and low, lit by green-shaded lamps. Windows looked out into the lake, where pale creatures drifted past. A vast fireplace burned with emerald flames beneath a mantel carved with serpents.

"Welcome to Slytherin," Gemma said. "The windows look into the lake—you'll see the squid."

The first-years gasped. Tracey whispered, "It feels alive." Daphne nodded coolly. "It has history."

Void felt the wards hum faintly against him. Old. Serpentine. Watching.

And he thought, "Yes. Here, I can build. Here, I can watch."

First Night in Slytherin

The prefects dismissed them, and the first-years scattered to take in their new quarters. The dormitories were circular chambers lined with stone pillars carved into serpents that seemed to writhe in the green firelight. Each bed was a four-poster draped in dark green silk, trunks neatly placed at the foot. The walls pressed close, but enchanted hearthfires kept the damp chill at bay.

The underwater windows rippled faintly, letting in the shifting gloom of the Black Lake. Silver-scaled fish darted by like sparks of light, and once, a great pale tentacle swept across the glass, leaving the new students wide-eyed. Tracey gasped aloud. Blaise only smirked. Draco, feigning indifference, tightened his grip on the bedpost until his knuckles went white.

Void unpacked with precise movements, folding his black suit neatly atop his trunk. When the prefect called them back to the common room, he followed without hurry, his composure unbroken.

🔥 The Confrontation

The Slytherin common room glowed with green lamps and the shimmer of the lake outside. The first-years gathered near the fire, their faces lit by emerald flames. Whispers passed from one to another, words that coiled like smoke.

"Emrys?" Millicent muttered, nose wrinkling. "Never heard of that family."

"Maybe he's not pure-blood at all," Blaise said lazily, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement.

The suspicion thickened. In Slytherin, lineage was a blade—unknown names cut deepest of all.

Draco saw his chance. He stepped forward, chin high, shoulders squared, basking in the firelight as though it were his stage.

"You'd better learn quickly," he said, his drawl sharp and loud enough for all to hear. "Slytherin doesn't waste time on Mudbloods. Everyone here knows the old families. Malfoy—one of the oldest, proudest lines in Britain. You'll see."

Crabbe and Goyle snorted with laughter. Pansy clapped her hands, delighted. A few others shifted, uncertain, but nodded anyway, eager for someone to follow.

🌑 Void's Retort

Void rose slowly from his seat, each movement deliberate. The green firelight caught in his eyes, cool and sharp. His voice was quiet, but it slid through the chamber like the strike of a blade.

"Malfoy."

The fire popped, as though listening.

"From the Old French mal foi—'bad faith.' Ill-fated."

A murmur rippled through the room.

Void leaned back slightly, gaze never leaving Draco. "A name that entered England with the Norman invaders. Foreign-born. French blood. Not as ancient here as you pretend."

The silence was heavy, thick as lake water pressing at the glass.

Blaise let out a low, genuine laugh. Tracey snorted, clapping a hand over her mouth too late. Daphne only raised an eyebrow, her expression calm, though her eyes flickered with interest.

Draco flushed crimson, his pale face blotched with anger. "You—you don't know what you're talking about—" His voice cracked under the weight of it, thin against Void's calm indifference.

Void did not answer. He only looked at Draco as one might look at an insect crawling too close to the fire. Then, without another word, he sat back down.

The message was clear.

🕯️ The Silence

The whispers changed. Where moments before they had circled around suspicion, now they whispered about the boy who had silenced Malfoy without raising his voice.

Draco stood frozen, pride trembling in his clenched fists. Crabbe and Goyle hovered loyally at his shoulders, but even their heavy brows knit in uncertainty.

The wards of the common room hummed faintly, brushing against Void's magic. Old, serpentine, they seemed almost to recognize him.

⚖️ Snape's Arrival

The door opened without a sound.

Professor Snape swept into the chamber, his black robes billowing like smoke. The smell of potions clung to him—ash, herbs, something sharp. His sallow face was unreadable, but his black eyes glittered as they swept across the gathered first-years.

The room fell silent at once. Even Draco, stiff and pale, shrank a little under the weight of that gaze.

"Slytherin," Snape said softly, the name itself carrying more weight than a shout.

"You belong to the House of Salazar. Ambition. Resourcefulness. Cunning. These are our hallmarks. The rest of the school despises us for them—but do not mistake that for superiority. They envy what they fear."

He let the words hang, sharp as daggers.

"Understand this: out there," he gestured faintly toward the castle above, "we are a united front. In here, you may quarrel, sharpen your claws, test your rivals. But beyond these walls, you stand as one. Divide yourselves, and the other Houses will tear you apart."

Several of the first-years shifted nervously. Pansy bobbed her head quickly in eager agreement. Blaise leaned back with his arms crossed, watching. Draco's jaw clenched, but his earlier bravado was gone.

Snape's gaze swept the room—and lingered. A fraction too long, his eyes rested on Void.

Recognition flickered.Amara's child.

The boy's stillness, the sharpness in his eyes—it was her echo, living. Snape's thoughts coiled, dark and certain. Albus will meddle, as he always does. But not this time. I will not let him fail you.

He smoothed his expression before the moment could be read.

"You will learn quickly," Snape continued. "Slytherin is judged more harshly than any other House. Success will be rewarded. Failure will be remembered. In this castle, Slytherin endures."

With that, he turned, his robes whispering across the stone as he swept from the room. The green flames flared and guttered in his wake, as though the chamber itself exhaled.

🌑 Aftermath

For a moment, the first-years said nothing. The weight of Snape's words pressed down as heavily as the lake above their heads.

Draco shifted uneasily, his earlier pride drowned in silence. Blaise tilted his head toward Void, smirking as if to say, that was interesting. Tracey leaned closer to Daphne, whispering quickly.

Void sat unmoving, calm as ever. The wards brushed faintly against his magic once more, serpent-shaped and deep.

For the others, Snape's words were warning and law.For Void, they were inheritance.

🌌 First Night Beneath the Lake

The common room emptied slowly, prefects ushering the new students toward their dormitories. One by one, the voices dimmed and doors closed, leaving only the distant sound of the Black Lake pressing against the glass.

Void lay in his four-poster bed, curtains drawn, the green silk cool beneath his fingers. Around him, the other boys shifted uneasily, whispering themselves to sleep. Draco muttered once, bitter in his corner, then fell silent. Blaise stretched languidly before rolling over, smirking even in slumber.

The fire in the hearth burned low, casting faint serpent-shadows across the stone.

Void closed his eyes.

🌑 The Dream

Darkness swelled—not the sleep of ordinary rest, but something deeper. The world around him thinned, and he felt himself sinking, sinking through layers of water.

The Black Lake stretched endlessly above, pale creatures drifting in its gloom. Tentacles curled lazily, vanishing into shadows. Yet even deeper, beneath silt and stone, something stirred.

A pulse. A hum. Ancient, steady, like the heartbeat of the earth.

He stood—or thought he stood—on the floor of the lake. No water touched him. The silt coiled around his boots but did not cling. A light flickered in the darkness, faint and green, serpentine in its movements.

"Child of Avalon…"

The voice was not sound. It was within him, old and layered, echoing from both stone and blood.

"Salazar's blood sings again… Stronger than before."

Void did not flinch. "Who calls me?"

The water rippled, parting as though in reverence. A shadow moved in the depths—vast, indistinct, shaped like both serpent and man. The wards of the castle thrummed in his bones, answering the presence.

"Not yet," the voice whispered. "But soon. The time will come. You will be tested."

The words coiled around him like chains—or perhaps like protection.

🛏️ Awakening

He opened his eyes.

The bed curtains swayed gently, though no draft stirred the dungeon. The fire in the hearth had burned to embers. Outside the glass, something pale drifted past, the glow of its body fading into the depths.

The dormitory was silent but for the soft breathing of the other boys.

Void lay still, eyes reflecting a glint of green firelight. The voice lingered in his mind, not fading, but waiting.

For the others, sleep was the end of their first day at Hogwarts.For Void, it was only the beginning of something that had stirred beneath the Black Lake—and called his name.

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