𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇;
A young wizard, born into the shadow of a legendary pure-blood family, embarks on a journey to Hogwarts-a place of magic, mystery, and more than a few secrets. Known to most by the name of his powerful lineage, he soon finds that th...
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⋆｡°✩𓂃𓈒 𓈒𓂃✩°｡⋆
The heavy wooden doors swung open, revealing the breathtaking sight of the Great Hall. The first-years stepped inside, their eyes widening as they took in the grand space. Four long tables stretched across the hall, filled with students from every year, their faces alight with curiosity as they watched the newcomers.
Golden plates and goblets gleamed under the soft glow of the countless floating candles above them. But what truly caught (M/N)'s attention was the ceiling. Dark and endless, it perfectly mirrored the night sky—countless stars twinkled against the vast black expanse.
He smiled, momentarily lost in its beauty.
Yin and Yang exchanged knowing glances at their best friend's fascination. They had always known (M/N) had an affinity for the stars, often catching him stargazing during quiet nights.
Behind them, a voice chimed in.
"It's not real, the ceiling," a girl informed them, her tone bookish yet eager. "It's just bewitched to look like the night sky. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."
(M/N) turned slightly, getting a glimpse of the girl—bushy brown hair, bright eyes, and an air of someone who had read just about every book there was. He hummed in acknowledgment but said nothing.
Professor McGonagall's voice broke through the quiet murmurs of the first-years.
"All right, before we begin, Professor Dumbledore would like to say a few words."
At that, an elderly man with half-moon glasses and long silver hair stood from the grand table at the front of the hall. His presence commanded attention, though there was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.
"So that's Dumbledore..." (M/N) thought, studying the legendary wizard.
"Thank you, Minerva," Dumbledore spoke, his voice warm yet firm. "I have a few start-of-term notices I wish to announce—"
But (M/N) quickly tuned out, uninterested in whatever rules or warnings the headmaster had to share. Instead, he shifted his focus back to the Sorting Hat perched on the stool at the front of the hall.
McGonagall, now holding a long parchment, stepped forward. "When I call your name, you will come forth. I shall place the Sorting Hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your houses."
