The instant the doors opened and closed again, noise and light spilled out from the Great Hall, stirring a faint excitement in Draca’s heart.
She exchanged smiles with Pansy, Daphne, and Hannah.
All four girls wore expressions filled with confidence and eager anticipation.
“How exactly do they decide which House to put us in…?”
“Probably some kind of test.”
“Fred said it’s really painful…
I hope he was only joking…”
While they waited, Harry and Ron’s conversation drifted over from behind them, making some of the first-years uneasy.
Draca merely shot Ron and Harry a cold sidelong glance.
“Please don’t let your ignorance create unnecessary panic, Weasley.”
She spoke lightly, with a trace of disdain in her voice.
Ron looked as though he wanted to argue back, but under Draca’s icy tone, he faltered.
Clearly, he genuinely had no idea how the Sorting Ceremony worked.
Draca smiled again and turned toward Harry.
“As for you, Potter.
You missed your chance to have someone better introduce you to the wizarding world.”
“I simply don’t understand what kind of wizarding family…”
“…would hide something as basic as the Sorting from their own child.”
She watched with satisfaction as Harry and Ron both looked displeased yet found themselves unable to answer.
Drawing out her folding fan, Draca gracefully flicked it open by two ribs with her fingertips.
“Regretting it yet, Po—ah!”
Just as she was enjoying herself and preparing to land one final blow on Harry, something suddenly darted into view and frightened all the color from her face.
She clutched tightly at Pansy and Daphne’s arms.
Her folding fan nearly slipped from her hand, and she hurriedly caught the handle in a brief fluster.
Harry and Pansy both failed to suppress their laughter.
Draca stubbornly frowned, ready to lose her temper, but when she saw the startled look that immediately appeared on Harry’s face as well, her anger stopped short.
Several ghosts had suddenly emerged through the walls, drawing cries of alarm from the new students.
The ghosts were enthusiastically discussing something among themselves, but before anyone could listen closely, Professor McGonagall appeared again.
“The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin.
Form a line and follow me.”
The doors to the Great Hall opened.
Another astonishing sight appeared before the first-years.
Thousands of candles floated above four long tables, while the dishes and cutlery on the tables gleamed brilliantly.
Where there should have been a high ceiling, there was instead an endless night sky, smooth as velvet.
The moon was veiled in mist, silver light flowing across it while the faint sensation of an evening breeze seemed to drift through the hall.
At the far end stood a raised platform with the High Table, where the professors sat.
Before it stood a golden lectern intricately carved into the shape of an eagle with its wings spread wide.
“It’s enchanted, so it looks like the sky outside!”
“I read about it in Hogwarts: A History!”
The girl with bushy brown curls spoke excitedly.
Draca couldn’t help turning around and giving her a closer look.
The first-years came to a stop.
Professor McGonagall waved her wand, and an old wooden stool appeared in front of the lectern.
Resting on it was a patched wizard’s hat.
Then the hat suddenly began to sing at the top of its voice.
If you can find a smarter hat than me,
I’ll gladly swallow myself whole.
Its voice was rough and its lyrics crude, making Draca raise an eyebrow.
Pansy covered her mouth to hide a laugh, while Daphne also had to press her lips together.
Draca glanced at Harry.
Like Ron beside him, his face had gone somewhat pale, and she had no idea what sort of terrible test he was imagining.
Draca smiled again.
As the song continued, the three girls’ attention wandered, while the lyrics shifted into praise of the Houses.
So put me on, and I will tell you where you truly ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor, where courage lies deep within the heart.
Their bravery, vitality, and chivalry are Gryffindor’s greatest strengths.
You might belong in Hufflepuff, where the people are upright and loyal.
Patient Hufflepuffs are honest and sincere, and never fear hardship or toil.
If you possess a quick and clever mind, you may enter wise old Ravenclaw.
The witty, learned, and studious
Or perhaps you will come to Slytherin, where you can meet friends of a similar mind.
Those cunning and resourceful people will stop at nothing to achieve their goals.
So put me on, and do not fear!
You are perfectly safe in my hands!
(Though I don’t actually have any.)
The moment the Sorting Hat finished singing, Professor McGonagall unfolded the parchment in her hands.
Draca quietly shifted half a step backward and gave the pale-faced Harry a small, pointed look.
“See?
You only have to put on the hat.
And you still preferred to believe Weasley?”
Without waiting for Harry to answer, she stepped back beside Pansy and Daphne.
But when she heard his reply, she immediately turned back with an angry glare.
“Ron is my friend, Malfoy.”
“Suit yourself, Potter.”
Their quiet argument ended when Professor McGonagall raised her voice again.
“When I call your name, come forward, put on the Sorting Hat, and sit on the stool until you are Sorted.”
“Hannah Abbott.”
At Professor McGonagall’s call, Hannah gave a little hop and waved toward the friend standing near her, as well as Draca, Pansy, and Daphne.
She walked forward cheerfully, put on the Sorting Hat, and the Great Hall immediately fell silent.
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
The Sorting Hat shouted.
Hannah happily jumped down from the stool.
The Hufflepuff table erupted into cheers, delighted to have gained a promising new student.
But among the first-years, as Draca watched Hannah’s reaction, she secretly glanced toward Pansy and Daphne.
Both girls had gone slightly pale.
“You…
really can get Sorted into Hufflepuff…?”
All three were thinking the same thing.
Draca’s heart, however, was pounding hardest of all.
For a moment, she almost imagined herself sitting in the middle of the hall and hearing the Sorting Hat shout the word “Hufflepuff.”
She bit down tightly on her lower lip.
In that instant, she made up her mind.
If she truly failed to get into Slytherin, then she would simply leave Hogwarts and return to Malfoy Manor.
She would follow the plan Narcissa had once considered and transfer to Beauxbatons instead.
“Daphne Greengrass.”
“SLYTHERIN!”
Watching Daphne walk gracefully toward the Slytherin table, Draca and Pansy were both thrilled.
At the same time, Draca became even more firmly committed to Beauxbatons as her worst-case alternative.
The Sorting Hat’s decisions came quickly for some students and slowly for others.
For the brown-haired girl named Hermione Granger, it remained silent for several entire minutes before finally shouting,
“GRYFFINDOR!”
For some reason, the youngest Weasley son let out a groan.
Several dozen minutes passed before Professor McGonagall finally called,
“Draca Malfoy.”
The Great Hall immediately fell silent.
At the Slytherin table, the students all turned around at once.
Their attention fixed on the girl before the High Table, with long platinum-blonde hair and a face as delicate as fine porcelain.
She was still unmistakably young, yet there was already a striking sharpness and confidence in her features.
Draca slowly drew in a deep breath.
She exchanged a determined look with Pansy, then stepped forward.
She took the Sorting Hat from Professor McGonagall.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Severus straighten slightly in his seat, his expression unreadable.
Then the brim of the hat dropped over her eyes.
In the darkness beneath it, a soft voice sounded in her mind.
Ah.
Pride buried deep in the blood.
The combined lineage of the Malfoy and Black families.
Welcome to Hogwarts, Draca Malfoy.
(It is an honor to meet you, Sorting Hat.)
Draca thought the words politely.
The Sorting Hat ignored them. The source of this chapter is g.com.
Very easy, and very difficult.
You possess wit and talent, but also a courage that few people know about.
Long ago, I once met another descendant of the Black family much like you.
He possessed talent no less impressive than his elder brother’s, yet lacked the same openly reckless courage.
I separated the two brothers into different Houses, but—
Even now, I am still not certain whether I made the right choice.
Draca listened in confusion as the Sorting Hat spoke about things that seemed unrelated to her.
Gryffindor, or Slytherin?
Perhaps I should change the decision I made last time?
The instant she heard the word Gryffindor, Draca’s heart nearly froze.
(Slytherin.
I only want Slytherin.)
Are you certain?
The last member of the Black family said the same thing.
Very well.
But I suspect your connection to Gryffindor may not be a shallow one.
Then—
The Sorting Hat paused before shouting aloud,
“SLYTHERIN!”
The hat was lifted away.
Draca opened her eyes and looked proudly across the Great Hall as the noise erupted once more.
Her figure was small and delicate, but sitting atop the raised stool gave her an unexpectedly lofty, commanding air.
She saw Daphne smiling sincerely at her.
She also saw the Slytherin table erupt in excited cheers, as though the House Cup were already theirs.
As Draca stepped down from the platform, the Slytherin students, led by Prefect Farley, rose to their feet.
They bowed and applauded as they welcomed the Malfoy heiress to their table.
Draca walked over to Daphne and tightly clasped both of her hands.
As the two sat down together, they looked toward Pansy, who was visibly nervous and excited.
Fortunately, they didn’t have to wait long.
Pansy soon joined them in Slytherin as well.
After gaining three daughters of the Sacred Twenty-Eight in succession, Slytherin’s spirits were soaring.
Then Professor McGonagall called,
“Harry Potter.”
The entire hall fell silent once more.
“Harry Potter?”
“That Harry Potter?”
Whispers spread everywhere.
The Sorting Hat hesitated for a long time on Harry’s head.
Then it shouted,
“GRYFFINDOR!”
The atmosphere between the two House tables instantly reversed.
“We got Potter!”
Excited cries rang out again and again, completely stealing the attention away from the Malfoy heiress’s arrival.
Even when dinner suddenly appeared on the tables, Draca only managed a few bites of the appetizers before losing her appetite.
Throughout the entire feast, she sat frowning, tightly gripping the handle of her folding fan beneath the table.
Only as dinner neared its end did Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster, rise to his feet.
“Now that everyone has eaten and drunk their fill, I have a few final words.”
“The forest on the school grounds is strictly forbidden to all students.”
“Mr.
Filch, the caretaker, has also asked me to remind you not to use magic in the corridors between classes.”
“And finally, I must tell you that during this school year—”
“If you do not wish to die a most painful death with blood pouring from every opening in your body, you must never enter the corridor on the right-hand side of the fourth floor.”
Dumbledore’s final warning left some students laughing nervously and others genuinely frightened.
Fortunately, the school song that followed quickly restored everyone’s rowdy energy.
Afterward, the first-years followed the prefects back to their common rooms and then went to their respective dormitories.
After so much travel, they were utterly exhausted by the time they reached their rooms.
Even Pansy, upon discovering that she had been assigned to a different bedroom from Daphne and Draca, merely complained a few tired words before obediently going to bed.
Inside the Slytherin dormitory, Draca and Daphne washed up and each curled beneath the covers of their own bed.
“Don’t be angry, Draca.
Everyone is only excited because Harry Potter is famous.”
Daphne comforted her softly, already drowsy.
Draca merely buried her face deep into her pillow and replied bitterly,
“Tomorrow in class, I’ll show him who the strongest wizard in our year really is.”
It really helps the fic grow!