The Hogwarts Express let out a loud, shrill whistle as steam billowed from its engine, clouding the platform of King's Cross Station. The bustle of students, parents, and magical creatures mixed with the familiar hum of anticipation. Alaric Black stood quietly by himself, his trunk and owl perched nearby. His house-elf, Winky, had discreetly dropped him off earlier, and now he waited, watching the excitement unfold around him.
This was it—the moment that had been building for months. After countless hours spent in the Black family library, mastering Occlumency, uncovering the secrets of Solomon House, and questioning the very nature of reality, the time had come to enter the world of Hogwarts. Alaric's sharp blue-gray eyes scanned the platform, taking in the students and families, some faces familiar, others new.
As he moved toward the train, something—or rather, someone—bumped into him.
"Oi, sorry 'bout that!" said one of two identical boys with fiery red hair and grins that stretched from ear to ear.
"No harm done," Alaric replied coolly, stepping aside as the twins bounced back into action, clearly in the middle of some scheme.
"You must be new. First year?" the other twin asked, eyeing Alaric with curiosity.
"Not exactly," Alaric answered, though he left the twins hanging, intrigued but puzzled.
"Fred Weasley," said the first twin, extending his hand.
"George Weasley," the second added, shaking Alaric's hand in turn.
"Alaric Black," he introduced himself, watching the shift in their expressions at the mention of his last name. The Weasleys might not have shared the same dark opinions about pureblood families as others, but the Black family name carried a certain weight.
"Oh, a Black, eh?" Fred said with a quirk of his brow.
"Any relation to Sirius Black?" George asked, his eyes lighting up.
Alaric didn't flinch. He had expected questions about Sirius, and he had already decided how to handle them. "Distantly," he said in a tone that hinted at the distance being more than just familial.
Before the twins could press further, the train's whistle blew again, signaling it was time to board. Fred and George bounded off to find a compartment, leaving Alaric alone once more. He stepped onto the train, searching for a compartment of his own, his mind buzzing with thoughts of what awaited him at Hogwarts.
The journey to Hogwarts was uneventful, with Alaric choosing to sit alone. His trunk was stowed away, and he let his owl, Orion, settle comfortably on the perch near the window. As the countryside flew by, he couldn't help but think back to the Black family history and how his journey to Hogwarts felt like a departure not just from home but from the legacy that shadowed him.
As the train rattled on, Alaric kept to himself, observing the other students—some first years, jittery with nerves, others seasoned students catching up after the summer. His eyes occasionally drifted to familiar faces from wizarding families he recognized. He saw Draco Malfoy strut by with an air of entitlement, accompanied by Crabbe and Goyle. Draco shot him a curious glance but said nothing, knowing better than to engage a Black he didn't yet understand.
What unsettled Alaric the most was the strange sensation of déjà vu. He felt as though he should recognize people—faces he had only glimpsed in fleeting dreams or moments of expectation. He saw a boy with messy black hair and glasses a few compartments away, laughing with a red-haired boy and a girl with bushy brown hair. But it couldn't be him, Alaric thought. Harry Potter was younger. This wasn't possible. He felt the world around him blur momentarily, but the vision passed quickly, and the reality of the present returned.
By the time the train arrived at Hogsmeade Station, the students were full of chatter and excitement. Alaric stepped off the train, the cool evening air refreshing after the warm, crowded journey. His heart quickened as the towering figure of Hagrid, the Hogwarts groundskeeper, called out for the first years.
"Firs' years! This way! Firs' years, over here!"
Alaric, despite being older than the other first years, was grouped with them for the traditional boat ride across the Black Lake. The dark, still water reflected the twinkling lights of Hogwarts in the distance. As they floated toward the castle, the grandeur of Hogwarts seemed to loom larger with each passing moment.
Alaric found himself lost in thought as the boats drifted silently toward the shore. His mind flicked between the mysteries of his family, the responsibilities of Solomon House, and the strange visions he had seen earlier. The castle itself felt like it was watching him, its walls ancient and filled with secrets that called out to him.
Finally, the boats bumped gently against the shore, and the students disembarked. They were led into the castle's vast entrance hall, the stone walls cold and imposing. Alaric stayed at the back of the group, observing everything with a calm intensity. He had learned early on that quiet observation often revealed more than rushed actions.
Standing at the foot of the grand staircase was Professor McGonagall, her sharp eyes surveying the group with a no-nonsense air. She was exactly as he had imagined her—stern but fair, with an air of authority that demanded respect.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said crisply, her voice cutting through the murmur of students. "In a moment, you will be sorted into your houses. The house you are placed in will be like your family for the duration of your time here. I expect each of you to uphold the values of the house you are sorted into and the standards of this school."
Her gaze flicked over to Alaric, perhaps sensing something different about him. She didn't linger on him long, but he noticed the slight pause. McGonagall was a perceptive woman.
"Now, follow me," she instructed, leading the first years toward the Great Hall.
As they passed through the towering doors of the Great Hall, Alaric's breath caught for a moment. The ceiling was enchanted to look like the night sky, stars twinkling above them. The long tables of Hogwarts students were filled with familiar house colors—Gryffindor's red and gold, Slytherin's green and silver, Ravenclaw's blue and bronze, and Hufflepuff's yellow and black.
He could feel eyes on him as they filed in. He had been prepared for this moment, but the weight of legacy still pressed down on him. Would he be placed in Slytherin, like many of his ancestors? Or would his path take him somewhere unexpected?
As Professor McGonagall prepared the Sorting Hat, Alaric stood still, his mind already working through the possibilities. Whatever house he was placed in, one thing was clear—his time at Hogwarts would not be like any other student's. His destiny had already been set in motion long before he ever stepped through the doors.