Of Shadows and Time (t.m.r)

7 | sorting

7 | Sorting

The vast oak doors swung open, and the line of first-years shuffled into the Great Hall, their faces pale with nerves. Celeste walked with them, tall and composed, her gray eyes scanning the ceiling enchanted with a canopy of stars. She was not one of them — not really — but she had chosen this path.

At the staff table, Headmaster Armando Dippet rose to his feet, raising a hand for silence. His kindly face, framed by wispy silver hair, turned to the gathered students.

"Before we begin our Sorting this year, we have a most unusual circumstance," he said, his voice carrying through the enchanted hall. "Hogwarts is welcoming a transfer student — a rare occurrence indeed. She has studied previously at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, but will be joining us to complete her education here at Hogwarts."

Whispers rippled across the hall. Curious faces leaned forward.

"Miss Celeste Aurelia Black," Dippet announced.

Celeste stepped forward at once, every motion graceful, poised, rehearsed. She slipped Tom's coat carefully off her shoulders, folding it over one arm before taking her place on the stool. The Sorting Hat was lowered onto her head, its voice echoing instantly in her mind.

"Ah... another Black," it murmured with amusement. "But different. Yes, I see... so much knowledge already, memories layered and hidden. You carry secrets heavier than most grown wizards."

Celeste's breath caught. The Hat knew.

"You'd do well in Ravenclaw," the Hat mused. "Your mind hungers for wisdom. Yet Slytherin calls you — ambition burns bright, though you wear it like silk, subtle and quiet. You could rise there. You would rise there."

"I won't repeat the same mistakes," Celeste argued. "I want to carve my own fate."

"Oh, you will, child. You will. And Slytherin will give you the tools to do so. Better be... SLYTHERIN!"

The word rang out across the hall. Cheers burst from the Slytherin table. Abraxas Malfoy clapped. Walburga grinned from ear to ear. And Tom Riddle, seated in shadow among his housemates, watched her with a knowing smile — as though this was exactly what he expected.

Celeste rose, setting the folded coat neatly under her arm, and crossed the hall with unshakable grace to sit among the serpents. The air around her seemed to hum, every whisper following her steps.

Moments later, when the ordinary Sorting began, a familiar name was called.

"Black, Cygnus."

The younger boy scurried to the stool, nervous and wide-eyed. The Hat barely touched his head before it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!" The table roared in approval once more.

Cygnus ran to her side, cheeks flushed with pride, and Celeste wrapped an arm briefly around his shoulders, smiling.

The feast began, golden plates filling with food, laughter and chatter echoing through the hall. Yet even as Celeste helped her little brother to a serving of roast chicken, she could feel Tom Riddle's gaze linger on her — steady, sharp, and unreadable.

Celeste eased into her place at the Slytherin table, the warmth of the cheering still echoing in her ears. Plates shimmered to life, filling with roast meats, buttered potatoes, glistening greens, and pitchers of pumpkin juice that poured themselves into waiting goblets.

Walburga slid into the seat beside her, her dark eyes flashing with pride. "I knew you'd be with us," she whispered eagerly, leaning close. "Didn't doubt it for a second. You belong here, Celeste. Everyone sees it."