A heart beneath the mark

2. Part

The trip to Hogwarts was uneventful. Cho, Gwen, and I sat together in a compartment, exchanging stories about our summer holidays, though my mind wandered more often than I wanted to admit. Cho seemed better than she had been at the end of last year; her heartbreak over Harry Potter had taken a toll on her, but she'd come back with a fresh smile, her spirit renewed. She had always been captivated by the idea of "Dumbledore's Army." At first, I thought it was simply because of Harry, but things had soured between them, the warmth replaced by cold, stony silences. She never spoke much about it, but I remembered how she'd cried in my arms one night, the weight of it all finally spilling out. She had told me about the Veritaserum incident, how she had been forced to reveal secrets, and how Harry hadn't understood. I was angry on her behalf, yet there was a bittersweet relief seeing her smile again today. Whatever lay ahead, I hoped our sixth year would be a fresh start—for both of us.

Beside me, Gwen was visibly jittery, her gaze flickering out the window to the passing countryside. I couldn't help but wonder which house she'd be placed into. Knowing her rebellious nature, it seemed unlikely she'd follow in my footsteps as a Ravenclaw. Her approach to studying was... well, let's just say "unconventional." Honestly, I was hoping for Gryffindor; her reckless courage and bold spirit would fit well there. The thought of her ending up in Slytherin sent a chill through me. That house was a realm of cold ambition and ruthless cunning, a place where kindness was often met with scorn. I couldn't bear the idea of her being surrounded by people I didn't trust, especially with Mattheo Riddle prowling the halls.

The train slowed to a halt, and as we disembarked, the sight of Hogwarts in the distance—its towering spires lit up against the night sky—filled me with a deep sense of belonging. I missed this place more than I cared to admit: the classes, the thrill of casting spells, the refuge of the library, and my conversations with Hagrid. Hagrid had become an unexpected friend over the years, a gentle giant who always had a warm smile and a story about some magical creature or another. He and Cho had been my anchors at Hogwarts, each providing a unique kind of comfort that I couldn't find anywhere else.

We made our way through the bustling platform, and I guided Gwen to where the first-years were gathering. Sure enough, there was Hagrid, towering over the crowd, a reassuring smile on his face. His eyes lit up when he saw me, and I hurried over, Gwen trailing nervously behind.

"Hannah Bennett! It's good to see yeh! And I see there's a new Bennett here!" he boomed, pulling both of us into a warm hug. Gwen looked up at him, her eyes wide, and gave a timid smile.

"T-thank you... I'm glad to be here," she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

"No need to be shy, lass! Hogwarts is like a second home, yeh'll see. And if yeh ever need someone to talk to, don't hesitate to come by my hut," Hagrid said with a grin. Gwen's shoulders relaxed, and she gave me a look that said more than words could express.

"Take care of her, Hagrid," I said with a smirk, giving Gwen a gentle nudge. "She's a bit of a handful."

"Don't worry, I got it covered," Hagrid replied with a wink before leading her and the rest of the first-years toward the boats.

After bidding farewell to Gwen, I joined Cho as we walked to the castle gates. To my surprise, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were standing nearby, chatting with her. Hermione noticed me and smiled, her warm, curious gaze meeting mine.

"Hey, Hannah! Did you have a good summer?" she asked, her tone friendly and open. We'd never really spoken before; this was a new side of Hogwarts I hadn't anticipated.

"Uh, yeah, it was good," I replied, caught a bit off guard. Hermione gestured to the carriage waiting nearby, and we all climbed in together. As we took our seats, my eyes flicked to the Thestrals pulling the carriage—strange, majestic creatures I alone in our group could see. I kept that observation to myself, knowing it was often met with sympathetic looks or awkward silence.

Just as the carriage started moving, I caught sight of a group climbing into the one behind us—Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire, and Mattheo Riddle. I quickly looked away, not wanting to attract their attention. Riddle was notorious; his presence at Hogwarts had always been unsettling, but in the past year, whispers about him had grown darker. Some students claimed he'd brought back his father, Lord Voldemort. Whether it was true or not, no one could deny the power he wielded, and his influence over the Slytherins only deepened the divide between the houses. The mere sight of him was enough to make the air in the carriage feel heavier.

The castle loomed closer, and soon we were entering the Great Hall, its grandeur as breathtaking as ever. Floating candles illuminated the room, casting a soft glow over the rows of students gathering at their tables. Cho and I took our seats at the Ravenclaw table, and I couldn't help but notice how everyone seemed more tense than usual, glancing uneasily at the Slytherin table as the last of their students filed in. Mattheo took his place among them, his dark gaze scanning the hall as though daring anyone to challenge him. Whispers spread like wildfire; everyone knew the rumors about his father's return. Just last year, Voldemort had been sighted at the Ministry, and the mere memory sent chills through the room. Now, the heir to that legacy sat not far from us, calm and composed, as if the fear around him was simply background noise.

The excitement of the evening was subdued by an undercurrent of anxiety. I looked over at the group of first-years as Professor McGonagall led them to the front. Gwen was among them, looking small and pale, yet determined. She spotted me in the crowd and gave a nervous smile, which I returned with an encouraging nod.

The Sorting began, and each name called heightened my anticipation. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, McGonagall called, "Gwendolyn Bennett." I held my breath as my sister walked to the stool, her shoulders squared with determination.

The Sorting Hat was placed on her head, and the hall fell silent. I could only imagine the thoughts running through her mind, but then the hat spoke, loud and clear: "SLYTHERIN!"