Hadrian Potter stood in the massive entrance hall of Hogwarts, surrounded by other first-year students. The sheer size and grandeur of the castle took his breath away, though he kept his expression carefully neutral. Around him, the other students were whispering excitedly, some wide-eyed with awe, others nervously fidgeting as they waited for what was to come.
His emerald eyes scanned the hall, taking in the towering columns, the flickering torches, and the ancient tapestries that adorned the walls. Everything in this place felt steeped in history, like the stones themselves whispered of ancient magic. Hadrian could feel it, a low hum of power that resonated deep within him.
Professor McGonagall, stern and composed, led the first-years into the Great Hall. Hadrian followed, his footsteps silent on the stone floor. The Hall was filled with the entire student body, all seated at four long tables. At the far end of the room sat the professors, watching the new arrivals with keen interest. The ceiling above mirrored the night sky, a sea of stars twinkling down, but Hadrian's focus was on the Sorting Hat perched atop a three-legged stool.
As Professor McGonagall called out names, each student would step forward, place the hat on their head, and wait as it decided their fate. The Sorting Hat seemed almost alive, its tattered brim moving as it spoke softly to each child.
"Potter, Hadrian!" McGonagall called out, her voice ringing through the hall.A murmur ran through the students. Hadrian was used to it by now—the name Potter carried weight, though not for reasons that pleased him. He moved forward with an air of quiet confidence, ignoring the whispers and the eyes that followed his every step. As he approached the stool, he could feel the tension in the room heighten.
He sat down, placing the Sorting Hat on his head. It slipped down over his eyes, plunging him into darkness.
"Ah, Potter," a voice murmured in his ear, a voice that seemed to resonate with the very essence of the castle. "But not the Potter they expected, are you? No, no... You are far more complex. Darker, perhaps. Let's see... Oh, what is this?"
Hadrian felt the Hat probing his thoughts, his memories, the very core of his being. Images flashed through his mind—his childhood with the gang, the years of hardship and survival, the darkness that had become a part of him.
"Interesting... so much darkness, yet not devoid of light. A strong connection to ancient magic... Yes, I can see it now. Death walks with you, doesn't it? You've seen the thestrals, you know their truth. And there's something more... A prophecy, whispers of power and fate intertwined. But you, Hadrian, you seek control over your destiny, don't you? To master the darkness rather than be consumed by it... Ah, but where to place you? Your cunning, your ambition... there's only one place for you..."
The Sorting Hat paused, as if savoring the moment.
"Slytherin!"
The last word rang out clearly, echoing through the Great Hall. There was a brief silence, then the Slytherin table erupted in cheers. Hadrian removed the Hat, handing it back to McGonagall, who gave him a rare, almost imperceptible nod of approval.
As he walked toward the Slytherin table, he felt the eyes of the other students on him. There was curiosity, suspicion, and something else—respect, perhaps. He took his seat among the Slytherins, nodding to a few who greeted him. Daphne Greengrass, seated not far from him, gave him a small, approving smile, her icy blue eyes sparkling with intrigue.
YOU ARE READING
The Dark Slytherin (Trilogy)
FanfictionWhat if Harry Potter was never proclaimed as the Boy-Who-Lived. Instead, his brother Julian was said to have defeated Voldemort in the night of Samhain. Hadrian, the older brother, is ignored and alone. But, without the voices of others, he hears hi...
