Slytherin secrets.

A new beginning

LANGUAGE WARNING.

NOT ACCURATE TO THE BOOKS OR MOVIES.

The train ride to Hogwarts felt impossibly long. The rumbling of the Hogwarts Express, the laughter from excited students—none of it could drown out the pit in my stomach. My transfer to Hogwarts was last minute, but that didn't stop the Sorting Hat from looming over my thoughts. After four years at Beauxbatons, I knew what it felt like to belong somewhere, to have friends, to be understood. Now? I was a stranger stepping into a world of wizards and witches I barely knew. Hogwarts wasn't my home—it was a cage I had no choice but to enter.

The Great Hall was even more magnificent than I had imagined. Golden chandeliers floated above us, casting warm light across long tables filled with students. I glanced up at the enchanted ceiling, its dark sky mirroring the weather outside, and found myself wishing I could disappear into it. My fingers nervously gripped the hem of my robes as Professor McGonagall led me down the center aisle. I could feel hundreds of eyes on me, whispers already beginning to rise.

"Who's that?"

"Another transfer? Didn't we already have one last year?"

I didn't dare look at the Slytherin table, though I could feel their stares most of all. I wasn't a fool—I knew the reputation that house carried. I could practically taste the arrogance emanating from their corner, and though I hadn't even set foot near them yet, I had a feeling Draco Malfoy was the source.

"The Sorting Hat will decide your place," McGonagall said, her tone cool as ever. She gestured to the stool where the patched-up hat rested, its wrinkled mouth already moving in anticipation.

Swallowing hard, I sat on the stool, bracing myself as the hat was lowered onto my head.

"Ahhh," the Hat murmured in my ear. "A complex mind... you've got plenty of wit, and courage, no doubt. But there's ambition here too. A thirst for more... far more than the others know."

I blinked, feeling my heart race. "Ravenclaw?" I thought. It seemed like the safest bet. I didn't fit the Gryffindor mold, and while Hufflepuff seemed nice, it wasn't me.

"Hmmm, no, not Ravenclaw," the Hat said, chuckling. "There's fire in you—more than you let on. And you don't like to follow rules, do you?"

I frowned. Was I about to be put in Gryffindor?

"Not Gryffindor either," the Hat said, almost as if it could read my every thought. "No, no. You're far better suited for... Slytherin!"

The word echoed in my mind as my body tensed. Slytherin? I barely had time to process the decision before the hat was pulled from my head, and Professor McGonagall nodded for me to join my new house. The Slytherin table clapped, though it was more out of formality than any real welcome. With a heavy heart, I forced myself to walk over and sit down.

From the far end of the table, I heard a laugh—a low, mocking sound that sent a chill down my spine.

"Well, well, a Beauxbatons transfer in Slytherin. What's next, a muggle-born Head of House?" The voice was unmistakable. Draco Malfoy. The golden prince of Slytherin himself. My eyes flicked toward him, taking in his pale, aristocratic features. His silver-blond hair fell perfectly in place, and his sharp grey eyes held that trademark sneer I'd heard so much about.

I clenched my teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. Malfoy's type was easy to recognize—entitled, bored, and convinced of their superiority.

"She probably bribed her way in," Pansy Parkinson added, her shrill voice grating on my nerves. The rest of the table laughed, though most seemed to be humoring Malfoy rather than actively agreeing.

"Shut it," I muttered under my breath, though it was barely audible.

"What was that?" Draco asked, his voice taking on a dangerously soft edge.

I ignored him, focusing instead on the food that had appeared on the table. The night was only just beginning, but I could already tell that life in Slytherin was going to be far more complicated than I'd anticipated. All lunch I had people nagging at me mostly that girl Pansy though she would not stop trying to get Malfoy's attention and every time he would even look at her, she'd pump up her chest trying to make it look bigger. 

Or she'd play with her hair which would be uncomfortable for everyone at the table to see. I guess my first lunch could've gone better.