Stranger

Chapter 9 - Malfoy

"Scared, Malfoy?"

Dumbledore welcomed all first-years to come up front and get sorted into their houses. The eager faces of the little kids—eyes wide with anticipation and hope—filled Violet with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Their enthusiasm was infectious, yet it also stirred something deep within her, a reminder of the uncertainty she felt about her own place in this world.

Violet had spent countless nights dreaming of this moment, poring over books about Hogwarts and its founders, envisioning herself stepping into the Great Hall as one of its proud students. She wanted nothing more than to belong—to find her rightful place among the pillars of magic and history. In her heart, she yearned to be a Gryffindor, a house known for bravery, courage, and chivalry. The stories of heroes, standing up against darkness and injustice, resonated with her spirit. She saw herself as a fighter, someone who had faced adversity and emerged stronger.

Yet, as she watched the first-years stand in line, anxiety gnawed at her. What if her self-perception was skewed? What if she wasn't as brave as she believed? Would the Sorting Hat see through her carefully constructed facade? The thought of being sorted into a house that didn't align with her true self filled her with dread. She had always considered herself brave, yet that bravery was often overshadowed by a lingering doubt.

.

.

Once the first years were sorted, Dumbledore was about to commence his annual welcome speech when his gaze caught sight of a familiar figure at the far end of the Great Hall.

"Violet," he murmured softly to himself, a warm smile crossing his face as he recognized the girl standing there, full of confidence. When their eyes met, she returned his smile with a hint of determination that made his heart swell. Dumbledore's eyes shifted to Professor McGonagall, and with a subtle nod, he beckoned her over.

Curiosity rippled through the room, as half of the students had already noticed the unexpected tension in the air. With an air of gravity befitting the moment, Dumbledore cleared his throat and addressed the gathering.

"Students," he began, his voice echoing in the hushed hall, "there is one more person among us who may be familiar to some of you." He gestured with an outstretched arm, welcoming Violet forward.

As she walked down the aisle between the tables, the whispers faded, replaced by an almost palpable sense of anticipation. Violet wasn't the scared little girl who had stood here years ago. She was transformed, radiating self-assurance with each step.

"I am delighted to see that Violet Whitmore has returned to Hogwarts!" Dumbledore proclaimed, with unexpected warmth and pride. "Four years ago, a bright-haired little girl graced this hall, yet she belonged to no house, for she was deemed too young. But now, my friends, the time has come for Violet to find her place within our beloved Hogwarts and join us as a fourth-year student."

With a flourish, he invited McGonagall to help usher Violet to the front of the hall, her face a mixture of confusion and warmth. As she sat in the high-backed chair designated for the sorting ceremony, Violet's heart raced. She locked eyes with Cedric at the Hufflepuff table, who regarded her with an encouraging smile, clearly hoping she would join their ranks.

With a gentle touch, McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat atop Violet's head. Instantly, she felt a wave of emotion wash over her, the sensation of an unseen presence diving deep into her thoughts. It was as though someone were rifling through her memories, probing her deepest fears and desires. A rush of vulnerability accompanied this invasion of her privacy, making her heart flutter wildly in her chest.