The door creaked open, revealing a tall witch with black hair swept into a flawless bun, wearing an emerald-green robe that seemed to shimmer in the torchlight of the entry hall. Her bearing was imposing, and her stern expression suggested to Lucian that she was no ordinary person but someone deeply versed in magical arts. Clearly, this was someone who commanded respect merely by being present.
"First years, Professor McGonagall," announced Hagrid, his friendly smile a stark contrast to the witch's strict demeanor.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I'll take it from here," she replied, her voice firm but not lacking in courtesy.
The door swung fully open, and the first-year students began to file in, some more nervously than others. Lucian, situated toward the center of the group, walked with calm, his eyes scanning every corner of the space.
The entrance hall was immense. Stone walls were adorned with gleaming torches, casting warm, flickering light. The dark, polished marble floor faintly reflected the flames, creating a majestic atmosphere. The ceiling rose so high it seemed to vanish into shadow, and the great oak doors leading to the Great Hall were decorated with intricate magical carvings that subtly shifted and changed with each blink.
However, what caught Lucian's attention wasn't the evident grandeur. He was no stranger to opulent settings, albeit of a very different nature. What fascinated him was the magic saturating the very air of the castle. There was a palpable sense, as though the walls and floors themselves were alive, breathing in tandem with the ancient magic that sustained the place. Closing his eyes briefly, he tried to perceive more of its intricacies. Yes, the magic here wasn't just strong—it was ancient, a power that had withstood the test of time.
Opening his eyes, he glanced around. The other students seemed engrossed in the more superficial aspects of the castle—the high ceilings, the torches, the ornate doors. None seemed aware of the magical pulse Lucian could distinctly feel beneath his feet. He looked at Cassandra, standing beside him, hoping for some sign that she felt it too. But her expression remained neutral, though her eyes seemed to analyze every detail, as if memorizing the way. Harry and Helena, on the other hand, appeared captivated by the castle's grandeur, exchanging looks filled with awe.
A faint whisper reached his ears, something others might have overlooked.
"Look at the Potters..." murmured a blonde girl, leaning toward a boy.
"And who's the other one?" the boy replied, clearly referring to Lucian.
"No idea, but it looks like the Potters are following him everywhere, doesn't it?" another voice whispered.
Lucian didn't react outwardly, but he caught every word. The curiosity surrounding him was predictable; his connection to the Potters, however circumstantial, would only add to the air of mystery about him.
As he processed these thoughts, he followed Professor McGonagall, who led the group with firm steps through the hall into a stone passage that delved deeper into the castle. Finally, she stopped before a tall, solid door leading to a small adjoining chamber.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall began, turning to face the group. Her voice carried a natural authority that instantly silenced even the chattiest among them. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you must be sorted into your houses."
Her gaze swept over the students, pausing briefly—just slightly longer than necessary—on the Potter twins before continuing. Lucian noticed the subtle pause and raised an eyebrow slightly. Interesting.
"The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be like your family at Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each has a proud history and has produced outstanding witches and wizards."
Helena listened attentively, taking in every word. She had read about the houses in Hogwarts: A History and discussed them briefly with Lucian on the train. But now, faced with the reality of the moment, it all seemed far more tangible and exciting.
"While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup—a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."
At this, McGonagall's eyes glinted with pride for just a moment before her stern expression returned.
"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes, in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you take this time to tidy yourselves up as best you can," she added, casting a sharp glance at a few students with disheveled uniforms or messy hair.
Her gaze flicked again over Helena and Harry, this time lingering briefly on Lucian. It was a subtle look, difficult to interpret, but Lucian caught it immediately. There was something beyond mere curiosity in McGonagall's observation—though he was certain no one at Hogwarts should know who he was, at least for now. That, he mused, would change soon enough.
When McGonagall left, an uneasy silence filled the room. A few students began whispering to one another, speculating about the Sorting. Helena glanced at Harry, then at Lucian, who remained perfectly composed.
The tension in the small chamber steadily grew as students murmured among themselves, uncertainty etched on their faces. Harry, torn between curiosity and nervousness, finally broke the silence.
"How do they sort us exactly?" he asked aloud.
Before Lucian could reply, a red-haired boy with a friendly but slightly unsure expression spoke up.
"Well..." he began, scratching the back of his neck as if uncertain himself. "My brother Fred says it's a test. Something to show what we can do. But, well, he also said it could be painful. Though... I think he was just joking."
The room fell silent for a moment as the words sank in. Harry and Helena exchanged a quick look, their eyes reflecting a mix of fear and uncertainty. Helena frowned slightly, and Harry swallowed nervously.
Lucian, who had been observing their reactions, immediately recognized the effect the words had.
"It's possible your brother was just trying to scare you a little," Lucian said with a reassuring smile. While he knew what the test entailed, he didn't want to ruin the surprise but also didn't want unnecessary panic. "Think about it: if the test were really dangerous, would students like us, who barely know any magic, even have a chance of passing it?"
Lucian's reasoning seemed to calm some of the students, though not all.
Cassandra, who had remained silent until then, crossed her arms and let out a soft sigh.
"A painful test would be impractical and absurd," she murmured, more to herself than the group. "It would contradict Hogwarts' reputation as a school that nurtures and protects its students."
Though her tone was neutral, something in her manner of speaking inspired confidence. Cassandra spoke with quiet certainty, and it had an immediate effect on the others.
"That makes sense," said a dark-haired boy at the back of the room, and a few others nodded in agreement.
"Thank you, Cassandra," Lucian added, giving her a slight smile before turning back to the group. "So there's no reason to worry. Most likely, it's something simple and symbolic—a way to welcome us to the school."
His voice, warm and understanding, seemed to dissolve the remaining tension. Even Harry and Helena appeared to relax a little, though they still seemed somewhat skeptical.
Once again, the group of students fell silent, though this time the atmosphere wasn't as awkward. The air was thick with anticipation, and a few shuffled nervously in place. It was then that something none of the students expected happened: about twenty ghosts, pearly white and translucent, drifted through the wall.
Their figures glided gracefully, barely touching the floor, and their voices filled the room as they chatted animatedly, seemingly oblivious to the first-year students.
"I say we give him another chance," declared a stout ghost who looked like a monk, his tone friendly and cheerful. "Forgive and forget—that's always the best way."
"My dear Friar, we've given Peeves more than enough chances," replied another ghost with a cold, commanding voice. He wore a ruff around his neck and stockings that gave him a theatrical air. "He's done nothing but tarnish our reputation, and you know perfectly well he's not even a real ghost."
The group of students watched the exchange in awe, with a hint of trepidation. Harry and Helena leaned slightly forward, trying to catch every word. A red-haired boy from earlier whispered something to the student beside him, clearly impressed, while Lucian remained composed, observing the ghosts as though they were just another fascinating phenomenon in a magical world he already knew.
Suddenly, the ghost with the ruff noticed the group's presence. His hollow eyes fixed on them, and his expression shifted to one of surprise and curiosity.
"And what are all of you doing here?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, as if unsure of how to deal with the newcomers.
Lucian, seeing that no one else seemed willing to speak, stepped forward.
"We're waiting for Professor McGonagall," he answered politely. "We're new students."
The Fat Friar, who had been smiling throughout the exchange, floated forward with enthusiasm, stopping just in front of the group.
"New students!" he exclaimed, his voice brimming with delight. "How wonderful! I do hope some of you end up in Hufflepuff," he added with a broad grin. "My old house, you know."
A few students smiled shyly, though most were too awestruck to respond. Helena studied the Fat Friar with a mix of curiosity and caution, while Harry, still nervous, seemed to be debating whether to ask a question or remain silent.
Cassandra, on the other hand, observed quietly, her sharp eyes taking in every detail with an impassive expression.
"Hufflepuff is known for loyalty and hard work, isn't it?" Lucian remarked, breaking the silence with a calm but interested tone.
"Exactly, young man!" replied the Fat Friar, clearly delighted to have someone show interest.
The ghost with the ruff let out a small scoff, as if he found the conversation unnecessary, but said nothing further. Before the moment could stretch on, a sharp and commanding voice rang out from the doorway.
"Move along. The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin."
Professor McGonagall had returned, her presence immediately silencing the room. With a slight wave of her hand, she gestured toward the door leading to the Great Hall.
One by one, the ghosts floated through the opposite wall, disappearing without another word. The students' attention shifted back to McGonagall, who regarded them with a mix of patience and expectation.
"Form a line," she instructed, her tone firm but not unkind. No one dared to disobey.
Lucian positioned himself near the front, with Cassandra by his side. As the students began to file into the Great Hall, Lucian noticed some of the others sneaking curious glances at him.
Harry and Helena walked just behind him, whispering quietly to each other. Lucian couldn't help but note how some might interpret this as the Potters following his lead. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but he said nothing.
Helena had never imagined a place as strange and splendid as the Great Hall. It was illuminated by thousands of floating candles hovering above four long tables, where the other students were already seated. The tables were set with golden plates, goblets, and cutlery. At the head of the hall, on a raised platform, stood another long table where the teachers sat.
Professor McGonagall led the first-years to a stop in front of the other students, with the staff seated behind them. Hundreds of faces stared back at them, glowing like pale lanterns under the flickering candlelight. Among the students, ghosts shone with a faint silver gleam. To avoid the gazes of the crowd, Helena looked upward and saw a ceiling of deep velvet-black, dotted with stars.
"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History," Hermione whispered.
It was hard to believe there was a ceiling at all, and that the Great Hall wasn't open to the heavens above.
In front of them, Professor McGonagall placed a small wooden stool. On top of it, she set an old, patched, and frayed wizard's hat. For a moment, the hall was completely silent. Then the hat moved.
Lucian, like most of the first-years, watched intently as the hat began to sing a song that described the four Hogwarts houses. Its voice was deep yet melodic, and every verse was a mix of pride and warning. When the hat finished, a polite wave of applause swept through the hall.
"So you just have to try it on!" Lucian overheard the red-haired boy say. "I'm going to kill Fred."
Lucian allowed himself a faint smile at the comment. Though he didn't show it, he found the scene amusing.
Despite his composed demeanor, Lucian couldn't deny a spark of curiosity. What would the Sorting Hat say to him? He already had an idea of where he belonged, but he knew this magical artifact could be surprisingly insightful.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," McGonagall announced, her voice firm.
"Abbott, Hannah!"
A rosy-cheeked girl with blonde pigtails stepped out of the line, placed the hat on her head, which fell down over her eyes, and sat on the stool. There was a brief pause.
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat shouted.
The table on the far right erupted into cheers as Hannah hurriedly made her way to join the members of her new house.
"Beaumont, Cassandra," Professor McGonagall called next.
This time, a ripple of murmurs spread through the students. Helena noticed how many faces reflected a mix of awe and confusion at hearing that name. Even Malfoy, who usually carried himself with unshakable superiority, seemed to pale slightly—if that was even possible.
Cassandra, however, seemed unaffected by the commotion. Her stride was calm and poised as she approached the stool, as though the weight of all those stares was nothing more than a passing breeze. When Professor McGonagall placed the hat on her head, Cassandra's expression betrayed a fleeting hint of displeasure, though it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
The hat, in her case, seemed to take its time. It was clear that a conversation was unfolding, though no one else could hear it. Cassandra remained impassive, though her features hardened at intervals, as if she were silently debating with whatever the hat was saying.
After what felt like an eternity, the hat finally announced:
"SLYTHERIN!"
The Slytherin table erupted in applause and cheers, but Helena noticed that not everyone there seemed entirely pleased with the outcome. Some clapped mechanically, while others cast calculating glances toward Cassandra.
The ceremony continued.
"Bones, Susan," McGonagall called.
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat declared almost immediately, and Susan rushed over to sit beside Hannah.
"Boot, Terry."
"RAVENCLAW!"
This time, the second table from the left applauded enthusiastically. Several Ravenclaws stood to shake Terry's hand as he joined them.
The sorting progressed smoothly. Brocklehurst, Mandy, joined Ravenclaw, while Brown, Lavender, became the first new Gryffindor. The far-left table erupted into cheers and boisterous celebration. Meanwhile, Bulstrode, Millicent, was sorted into Slytherin and took a seat near Cassandra.
Finally, it was the turn of a girl who had been helping search for the toad on the train.
"Granger, Hermione."
Hermione almost sprinted to the stool, placing the hat on her head with evident nervousness.
"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted after a moment of deliberation.
As Hermione joined her new house, McGonagall glanced at the scroll once more. For a moment, there was a barely perceptible hesitation in her voice as she announced the next name.
"Grindelwald, Lucian."
The entire Great Hall seemed to freeze. The hum of chatter that had accompanied the last few selections vanished, replaced by a silence so profound that even the flickering of the candles overhead seemed unnaturally loud. Even among the professors, who had been murmuring amongst themselves, turned their heads toward the line of first-years.
Lucian showed no visible reaction to the ripple of shock his name had caused. He walked toward the stool with measured, deliberate steps, as if unaware of the eyes tracking his every movement. If anything unsettled him, he gave no sign of it.
McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head, and for an instant, the silence in the hall grew even heavier, as though everyone were holding their breath.
From the first-years' line, Helena exchanged a brief glance with her brother. Harry's eyes were filled with confusion and puzzlement, and she understood why.
Her conversation with Lucian and Cassandra on the train flashed vividly through her mind. Gellert Grindelwald—the dark wizard defeated by Albus Dumbledore decades ago. She recalled the calmness with which Lucian had spoken of him, as though he were recounting the story of a distant stranger. Cassandra had been more reserved than usual. Clearly, the Grindelwald name carried a weight they preferred to handle carefully, though Helena had never imagined it could be tied to such a direct connection.
Meanwhile, Lucian kept his face impassive, though his eyes scanned the hall, taking in the four house tables filled with students, the ghosts hovering with ethereal glows, and the professors at the head table. Some gazed at him with curiosity, others with caution, and a few with open suspicion. He especially felt the intensity of Dumbledore's gaze. The headmaster's piercing blue eyes seemed to probe for something beneath the surface, but Lucian instinctively shut off any openings in his mind.
When the Sorting Hat settled on his head, a voice resonated directly in his mind:
"Well, well… this is certainly intriguing. A Grindelwald at Hogwarts. Never thought I'd see the day."
Lucian didn't respond immediately. He had expected the hat to speak, but not to show such evident interest. Finally, he replied calmly:
"And what's so extraordinary about that? I'm not the first of my lineage to walk these lands."
The hat let out a dry chuckle.
"Perhaps not, but your name carries a weight few can ignore. Now, if you'd lower your defenses, it would make my job considerably easier. I must say, for someone your age, your achievements are… remarkable."
Lucian allowed a faint smirk at the comment. His skill in Occlumency had been born of necessity rather than choice, but he couldn't deny his natural talent for mental magic.
"Ah, much better," the hat said, sounding almost relieved. "Now that I can see more clearly… you are quite the puzzle. A sharp mind, calculated thoughts. Traits of a true Ravenclaw, no doubt, but you don't seek knowledge for its own sake. To you, it's merely a means to an end."
Lucian exhaled softly, as though he'd anticipated the assessment.
"I'm no scholar," he admitted. "I have no interest in hoarding knowledge without purpose."
The hat chuckled again.
"And yet, you're not a typical Slytherin either. Ambitious, yes, but not in the conventional sense. You don't crave power for its own sake—you desire it for what it offers: freedom, control, purpose…"
Lucian raised an eyebrow slightly, acknowledging the hat's insight, but said nothing.
"And I see a spark of loyalty in you—true loyalty," the hat continued. "Not the circumstantial kind often found among Slytherins, but a genuine devotion to those you deem worthy of your trust. No wonder your friend was so adamant in her choice."
Lucian took a moment to process the words before responding:
"Does that mean you'll send me to Hufflepuff?" he asked, a faintly mocking smile playing on his lips.
The hat laughed more heartily this time.
"No, no. Hufflepuff isn't your home. Though I must admit, I'm not entirely sure Hogwarts has a place where you truly belong."
"Then Gryffindor?" Lucian inquired, his tone neutral.
"No, not that either," the hat replied thoughtfully. "I see courage in you—far more than even you recognize. But your bravery is not the reckless sort often found in Gryffindor. Yours is colder, more deliberate."
Lucian said nothing for a moment, his mind quietly evaluating every word.
"Well?" he asked finally, with genuine curiosity. "What's your decision?"
The hat was silent for a moment, as though considering the question carefully.
"You already knew where you'd end up, didn't you?" it said at last, its tone more of a statement than a question.
Lucian didn't reply, but his silence was answer enough.
"I thought so," the hat continued, a note of satisfaction in its voice. "Though you could bring much to any house, your path is clear."
And with a loud, decisive voice, the hat proclaimed:
"SLYTHERIN!"
The eruption of applause from the Slytherin table was immediate, though some clapped more reservedly than others. Lucian rose calmly, walking toward the table of serpents. Cassandra, already seated there and somewhat distanced from the others, watched him with a serene expression, though her eyes betrayed a certain satisfaction.
When Lucian sat beside Cassandra, she gave him a brief nod, her expression still composed but tinged with satisfaction.
"Tell me, what would've happened if your little bet had been wrong?" Lucian asked quietly, raising an eyebrow.
Cassandra arched her brows, her smile taking on a slightly superior edge.
"Have you forgotten? The Beaumonts always win," she replied in a tone that suggested the idea of failure was almost offensive to her.
Lucian let out a soft chuckle but didn't reply. As conversations resumed in the Great Hall and the Sorting Ceremony continued, his gaze wandered across the room, assessing every detail. He could feel the weight of curious stares, the lingering whispers among students from other tables. But he didn't let it bother him.
His introspective calm broke when a particular name echoed through the hall.
"Potter, Harry!"
A murmur spread rapidly, like wildfire in a dry field.
"Did they say Potter?"
"The Harry Potter?"
Lucian observed the scene with interest. Harry's reception was entirely different from the one he had experienced. While the boy approached the stool amid whispers of awe and anticipation, Lucian remembered how his own surname had elicited a tense silence and wary glances. One was celebrated as a savior, a hero of the wizarding world. The other bore the name of a man who had once brought the magical world to its knees.
At the Slytherin table, Cassandra watched the spectacle with little interest, while Lucian turned his attention back to young Potter. Among the first years, Helena looked at her younger brother with a mix of nervousness and encouragement. She tried to convey reassurance with her gaze, though she wasn't sure he could see her with the Sorting Hat covering most of his face.
"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the Hat, and the hall erupted into deafening applause.
The cheering at the Gryffindor table was the loudest yet. Harry walked toward his new house with unsteady steps, trying to return the smiles and greetings of the students who welcomed him enthusiastically. Before sitting down, his eyes searched for Helena in the crowd, and she gave him a small smile.
"Potter, Helena!"
Helena's turn came, and the murmurs in the Great Hall intensified, though with a different tone this time.
"Is that the other one?"
"She's his sister!"
She walked toward the stool, feeling the stares that seemed to follow her like shadows. Pressing her lips together, she tried to ignore the growing whispers. As she sat down, the last thing she saw before the Sorting Hat fell over her head was a sea of eager eyes, all ready to judge her.
"Hmm… an interesting mind," murmured the Hat, its voice resonating like an echo in her mind. "You are loyal, yes, and you seek the comfort of familiarity. Qualities fit for Hufflepuff. But I also see a sharp intellect, a cunning that could lead you to something more. And that ambition, though not fully realized, is there. You could do well in Slytherin."
Helena frowned at the suggestion.
"I don't care about the house," she thought firmly. "I just want to be with Harry."
The Hat let out a soft sigh, as though it had anticipated her response.
"I understand, child," it replied gently. "But listen: being in different houses doesn't mean being apart. The bond you share with your brother is rare and powerful. Not even the darkest forces could break it. However, I must warn you…"
The Hat's voice grew more serious, as if speaking from a place of deep wisdom.
"The two of you are destined for difficult paths. And those paths won't always align. What lies ahead will test both your loyalty and your strength."
Helena felt a knot form in her stomach. She didn't reply, but the Hat sensed her uncertainty.
"Child, even paths that seem separate can lead to the same destination. What matters is not where you begin, but how you choose to walk. And you have the potential for greatness, though that greatness won't come easily. There is a house that can help you achieve it, that can teach you to harness your strengths. Your place is clear…"
The Hat paused for a moment, as if giving her a chance to accept its words.
"SLYTHERIN!" it finally declared, its voice ringing out across the Great Hall.
Helena removed the Hat with trembling hands. For a moment, the hall fell into absolute silence, as if no one was sure they had heard correctly. Then, from the Slytherin table, came a polite round of applause. It was restrained, lacking the warmth her brother had received moments earlier.
As she walked toward her new table, Helena searched for Harry among the crowd. She found him quickly; he was watching her, his expression a mix of surprise and concern. She tried to smile at him, but her face managed only a faint greeting before she turned to find a seat.
"Interesting choice by the Hat, wouldn't you agree?" Lucian remarked quietly when she sat down beside him, amusement flickering in his tone.
Cassandra, who had been observing silently, tilted her head slightly toward Helena, her eyes evaluating her.
"It's not as unusual as you might think," she said, her tone neutral rather than hostile. "Slytherin isn't what most people believe. Some of the most influential wizards in history started here."
Still processing everything, Helena didn't respond immediately. Cassandra continued, as if trying to lighten the mood.
"Of course, many people have their prejudices. But you'll be surprised by what you can discover when you let go of others' expectations."
Helena looked at her, puzzled by Cassandra's reflective tone. "Were you always certain you'd be in Slytherin?" she finally asked.
Cassandra smiled, though there was something more than confidence in her expression.
"Not always. In truth, I couldn't care less about the house I'm in. You see, Helena, what matters isn't the house, but what you do with the opportunities it gives you. It's not as though the world ends just because you're in Slytherin."
Helena blinked, surprised by Cassandra's answer. Though she still felt Harry's gaze from the Gryffindor table, she found some comfort in Cassandra's unexpected words. She wasn't sure if it was too early to call them friends, but at least she felt she was on the right path with Cassandra and Lucian.
When the Sorting Ceremony ended, Albus Dumbledore rose from his seat. Helena recognized him instantly from the Chocolate Frog cards. She turned her head slightly toward Lucian, expecting some reaction from him, but he seemed completely indifferent, as though nothing happening in the Great Hall affected him.
"Welcome!" said Dumbledore, spreading his arms with a radiant smile. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our feast, I'd like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! ...Thank you very much!"
Helena's eyes widened. Had she heard correctly? Around her, everyone clapped and cheered as if it was the wisest declaration ever made. Moments later, the plates before her filled magically with food. Helena blinked again, this time impressed by the abundance.
She had never seen so much food in one place, let alone something she actually wanted to eat. Roasts, chicken, pork chops, sausages, potatoes in every form, peas, carrots, and strangely, mint humbugs. The Dursleys hadn't starved her and Harry, but they certainly hadn't indulged them either. Dudley always took whatever they wanted, even if he didn't eat it.
Helena filled her plate with a little of everything except the mint humbugs and began to eat. Every bite was delicious.
Cassandra, who had fallen silent once more, spoke as she served herself some chicken: "Is it always like this?" she asked, addressing no one in particular.
Lucian, who was cutting a piece of meat, raised an eyebrow.
"What exactly?"
"All of this." She gestured broadly, indicating both the food and the lively atmosphere of the Great Hall. "It seems... excessive."
"Does it bother you?" Lucian replied, his tone nonchalant, though his eyes glinted with faint amusement. "I doubt you're accustomed to modest dinners."
"I'm not complaining," she said, her tone calm yet sharp. "I just find it curious. Besides, the dinners I've attended are more formal."
Helena, who had been quietly listening, joined the conversation.
"I've never seen anything like this. It's... magical." She smiled faintly, realizing how obvious her comment sounded.
Lucian nodded at her words, not stopping his methodical cutting of his food. However, he seemed to lean slightly toward Helena.
"Well, it certainly is magical. But if there's one thing you'll learn here, it's that not everything magical is as charming as it seems."
Helena nodded slowly, unsure how to interpret Lucian's words.
As the three of them talked, Helena noticed other students at the Slytherin table casting glances their way, as if debating whether to approach. Even Draco Malfoy, who had displayed such arrogance on the train, seemed hesitant. Ultimately, none of them dared interrupt, and the conversations at the table carried on without involving their small group.
After a while, Professor Dumbledore stood up again, and the Great Hall fell silent. The food and desserts vanished as magically as they had appeared.
"Ahem," Dumbledore began, his voice warm but firm. "Just a few more words now that we've all eaten and drunk. I have some announcements to make as we begin the school year."
He paused, scanning the students with a mixture of seriousness and amusement.
"First-years, please remember that the Forbidden Forest is, as its name suggests, forbidden to all students. And may I add that some of our older students would do well to remember that too."
Dumbledore cast a meaningful glance toward the Gryffindor table, where a few students struggled to suppress guilty smiles.
"Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to remind you all that magic is not permitted in the corridors between classes."
A few students exchanged frustrated looks.
"Quidditch trials will take place during the second week of the term," Dumbledore continued. "Those interested in joining their house teams should see Madam Hooch."
Dumbledore leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret.
"And finally, I must warn you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to anyone who does not wish to meet a most painful death."
A nervous murmur rippled through the hall, followed by a few stifled laughs.
"Was he serious?" Helena whispered to Lucian, unable to suppress a small smile.
Lucian shifted his gaze from Dumbledore to Helena, his expression calm.
"Probably. He doesn't seem like someone who jokes about death," he replied in a neutral tone, though his eyes were distant, as if his thoughts were elsewhere.
Before Helena could respond, Dumbledore raised both hands, his face alight with a jovial expression.
"And now, before we all retire to bed, let us sing the school song!"
Helena noticed how several professors tensed their smiles, looking less enthusiastic about the idea.
With an elegant flick of his wand, Dumbledore conjured a golden ribbon that floated above the tables, transforming into words.
"Everyone can choose their favorite tune!" he said cheerfully. "And... off we go!"
The hall erupted into a cacophony of voices. Some students sang in deep, solemn tones, while others seemed to compete for the most off-key rendition. The red-haired twins from Gryffindor sang to the tune of a funeral march, finishing last.
Dumbledore clapped enthusiastically.
"Ah, music!" he exclaimed, dabbing at a tear. "A magic beyond all we do here. And now, it's time for bed. Off you trot!"
A Slytherin prefect with chestnut hair and a serious demeanor stepped forward.
"First-year Slytherins, follow me."
The group rose and began to leave the Great Hall, their footsteps echoing in the stone corridors. However, they had barely gone a few meters when another prefect, more relaxed in appearance, approached.
"Grindelwald," he said firmly. "Professor Dumbledore wishes to speak with you."
The murmurs among the students stopped abruptly. The news fell like a bolt of lightning. A few first-years exchanged nervous glances, and Helena felt the atmosphere around her shift.
Lucian raised an eyebrow calmly, as though unsurprised.
"Very well," he said in his usual composed tone, motioning for the prefect to lead the way. Before following, Lucian turned to Helena and Cassandra, offering them a brief nod of farewell.
Helena couldn't help but feel a spark of curiosity as she watched Lucian disappear into the crowd. She wondered what kind of conversation someone like him might have with Dumbledore.
Cassandra, who had been observing the reactions of the other students, murmured quietly,
"That was faster than I expected."
Helena, still staring at the spot where Lucian had been moments before, frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Cassandra gave a slight shrug, her expression indifferent, as if the topic interested her only mildly.
"I just didn't think Dumbledore would be the impatient type," she replied, leaving the statement hanging in the air.
Helena opened her mouth to ask more, but Cassandra had already turned away, seemingly satisfied with her abrupt closure of the conversation. Helena couldn't help but feel a bit frustrated.
Without further exchanges, the two followed the group of first-years. The prefect leading them, a young woman with her hair tied in an immaculate bun, guided them through a hallway to the left of the Great Hall. The stairs began to descend almost immediately, taking them further and further down.
The air grew cooler as they descended, and the sound of their footsteps echoed strangely off the stone walls. Flickering torches cast elongated shadows, giving the corridor an eerie atmosphere. Helena tried not to think too much about it, but each twist and closed door they passed made her feel increasingly uneasy.
Finally, the group stopped in front of what appeared to be a solid stone wall, with no visible features suggesting an entrance. The prefect turned to face them, her expression calm but authoritative.
"Lacustre," she said clearly.
The wall transformed instantly. The stone lines blurred and shifted, forming a large door that slowly swung inward. A gust of cold air emerged from the opening, making some students shiver.
The prefect led the group into the Slytherin common room. Helena paused for a moment to take in her surroundings. The room was striking in its own way. Long and low, it was illuminated by lamps casting a greenish glow that gave the space a mysterious ambiance. The dark furnishings, made of leather and intricately carved wood, looked both elegant and intimidating.
What caught Helena's attention most was the far wall. It was made entirely of glass, beyond which she could see the lake water, with dark shapes moving slowly on the other side. One particularly large figure swam by, sending a chill down Helena's spine.
"Welcome to Slytherin," said the prefect with a faint smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Here, you'll find everything you need. Follow the house rules, and the common room will be a safe and comfortable place for you."
The group was then divided. The prefect gestured to a door on the left.
"Girls, this way."
Helena glanced at Cassandra, who simply motioned for her to follow before disappearing through the door.
"Boys, this way," the prefect added, indicating the opposite door.
Helena took one last look around the common room before crossing into the girls' dormitory. Her mind wandered again to the conversation Lucian must be having with Dumbledore at that very moment. What could they possibly be discussing?