Inheritance of the Damned

The Sorting of the Lost

Selah sits on her cot, trying to shut out Alexander's incessant voice.

He has not stopped since they arrived.

"Selah, listen-if we tell the right professors what happened-"

"No."

"-they'll see I was protecting you-"

"You tripped while trying to shove me into a stairwell."

He sputters. "That's not the point!"

"He's the human version of stale porridge," Hades mutters in her mind, sprawled dramatically across her lap in his shadowy form. "Lumpy, bland, and somehow still sticky."

Selah doesn't laugh-but her lips twitch.

Alexander takes it the wrong way.
He leans closer, voice dropping to that entitled whisper she hates.

"You should be grateful I'm here with you. Not everyone would look twice at someone like you, Selah. But I-"

She cuts him a look sharp enough to flay skin.

"Alexander, I would rather kiss a grindylow."

He blanches, wounded.

Hades purrs smugly. "You were almost too kind."

---

A Week Later

The Great Hall is packed again, this time with Hogwarts' full student body buzzing with anticipation as the muggleborn refugees are brought forward to be officially sorted.

Selah stands at the end of the group, spine straight, chin high. Her glamour spell hides the twin heir rings-Salazar's sigil and Merlin's crest-from the eyes of everyone except her...and Hades.

Her true power stays caged beneath her calm expression.

One by one, the hat sorts the other students.
Hufflepuff. Ravenclaw. Gryffindor. Another Hufflepuff.

Then-

"Next," Professor McGonagall reads from the parchment, "Amarielle Veyra Salazar-Mer-"

The hall detonates.

Chairs scrape. Students gasp. A spell fizzles in the rafters. Even the ghosts glitch in mid-drift.

Tom Riddle goes absolutely still.

Abraxas swears under his breath.
"That... that cannot be right-"

Selah-Amarielle-walks forward with steady steps, her expression carved from obsidian, unflinching.

Alexander shouts, voice breaking with betrayal, "HER NAME IS SELAH! SHE'S A MUDBLOOD! SHE-SHE CAN'T BE-"

Professor Dippet silences him with a flick of magic.

Tom's pulse thrums, a hungry, electric thing.

Salazar.
Merlin.

Two names that command continents.
Two names whispered like gods.

And she-this girl-carries both in her blood?

Tom's lips curve into a fascinated smile.

The Great Hall, for the first time in a century, feels like it's holding its breath.

The Sorting Hat is placed on her head.

It barely touches her hair before it shouts:

"SLYTHERIN!"

---

Elsewhere-An Ancestral Fortress in the Alps

Grindelwald stands by a tall window framed in iron, snow swirling behind the glass like falling ashes.

He does not startle when a young follower enters and bows.

"My lord... the muggleborn students who escaped Durense were apparated to Hogwarts."

For a heartbeat, Grindelwald is silent.

Then he smiles-slow, sharp, triumphant.

"So," he murmurs, "that is where my little dragon fled."

His eyes glint, soft with obsession.
Dark with desire.
Dangerous with purpose.

"After all these years... she has returned to the board. And the prophecy can finally begin."

Snow crashes against the windows like applause as his smile deepens.

"Amarielle Veyra Salazar-Merlin," he purrs.

"The lost heir."

"My chosen flame."

"My destiny."

---