Chapter 6: Boating on the Black Lake and the Sorting Hat's Dilemma (Patreon)

Night swallowed the last smear of dying sunlight.

The Hogwarts Express crawled to a stop on the cold, pitch-black platform of Hogsmeade Station.

"First years! First years, over here!" Hagrid, the half-giant, was built like a small mountain. He held a dim yellow lantern high, and his gravelly voice rumbled through the wind and rain of the frigid night.

The new students huddled like a flock of frightened ducklings. They trailed nervously behind Hagrid's huge frame, stumbling along a slick, muddy path.

Near the front of the crowd, Draconia Malfoy knit her delicate brows and hitched up the hem of her robes, her little leather boots picking carefully around the puddles.

Despite the miserable weather, the young lady kept her long, graceful swan neck lifted, holding on to the proud bearing of a pure-blood heiress.

Only her pretty gray-blue eyes kept drifting backward on their own.

Not far behind, Raven moved with easy composure, the hem of his black, coat-style robe stirring in the night wind without a single speck of mud on it. Harry trailed right behind him, and the pale, nervous face that had been so tense before was now full of reliance on his leader.

"Pretentious bastard…" Draconia huffed softly, biting her lower lip with her pearly teeth and snapping her gaze away.

The narrow trail ended, and the view opened up all at once.

The Black Lake lay before them like a vast black mirror. Atop a jagged, steep cliff stood an immense ancient castle, its countless windows glittering with warm, brilliant gold beneath the stars.

"No more than four to a boat!" Hagrid bellowed.

Draconia stepped onto the edge of a little boat, escorted by Crabbe and Goyle.

She had assumed Raven would come to her, even if only to taunt her a little. But when she looked back, Raven had already led Harry and Ron into another boat. He'd even paused to catch a bushy-haired little girl (Hermione Granger) who had nearly missed her footing, and settled in as naturally as you please.

The young lady's slender fingers clamped down on the gunwale, and a nameless fire flared up in her chest. That arrogant jerk! He ignores me on the train, and now he's fussing over some frizzy-haired Mudblood from who-knows-where?!

…

The boats passed through a cliff-face curtain of water screened by ivy and followed a dark underground passage. At last the first years stepped onto the smooth, warm flagstones of Hogwarts.

Before the doors of the Great Hall stood Professor McGonagall, stern and square-spectacled, a roll of parchment in her hand. Her gaze swept over the uneasy first years like a searchlight. "Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats, you must be sorted into your Houses…"

The moment she turned and pushed open the heavy oak doors, the grandeur of the Great Hall stunned everyone.

Thousands of candles floated in midair and lit the hall bright as day. Students of every year packed the four long tables, which were laden with gleaming golden tableware.

Overhead, the ceiling had been bewitched with an advanced illusion, a starry sky drifting slowly, as if they stood in the depths of the cosmos.

On a four-legged stool at the very front sat a pointed wizard's hat, shabby and patched and so filthy it looked like it hadn't been washed in centuries.

The Sorting began.

"Hannah Abbott!" "Hufflepuff!"

"Hermione Granger!" "Gryffindor!"

Name after name was called, and applause rose and fell across the hall.

"Draconia Malfoy!" The moment McGonagall's voice faded, the noisy hall quieted noticeably. Many older students turned in unison to the much-talked-about pure-blood heiress.

Draconia drew a deep breath, smoothed her platinum, softly curled hair, and climbed the steps with elegant, noble strides.

She sat gracefully on the stool, chin held high.

The Sorting Hat hadn't even touched her hair. It hovered a few inches above her head when it tore open its mouth and shrieked, "Slytherin!!"

The Slytherin table erupted into deafening cheers and applause. Many older students from pure-blood families rose to their feet.

A proud, self-satisfied smile curled the corners of Draconia's lips. She gathered her skirts and made her way to the Slytherin table.

As she passed Raven, she deliberately slowed. Her eyes tilted up in a sidelong glance, and she lowered her voice with a sniff:

"True nobility belongs to Slytherin forever. Capet… I can't wait to see whether the Hat tosses a fallen nobody like you into the Hufflepuff kitchens or the Gryffindor pile of stupid lions!"

Raven slid his hands into his pockets and smiled faintly. "No rush, Miss Malfoy. Sometimes fate hands us a few surprises."

Then Harry Potter's name set off the whole hall.

After the heart-pounding inner struggle of the original story, Harry, thanks to Raven's talk on the train about how "state of mind and will are the essence of magic," felt a little less absolute revulsion toward Slytherin. In the end he still followed the courage in his heart. "Gryffindor!"

At the lion table, the Weasley twins pounded the wood in a frenzy. "We've got Potter! We've got Potter!"

But the name that mattered most to the entire hall came up next, and Professor McGonagall finally read it out:

"Raven Capet!"

The noisy hall fell eerily silent once more.

At the staff table, Albus Dumbledore sat dead center, his beard white as snow. He nudged his half-moon spectacles, and a deep, sharp light flickered in his sky-blue eyes.

Beside him, Severus Snape, the perpetually gloomy Potions master in billowing black robes, gave a slight twitch of his long hooked nose. His gaze locked like a blade onto the black-haired boy walking up the steps.

At the Slytherin table, Draconia had been cutting fruit with perfect poise. Now she set down her knife and fork, spine ramrod straight, eyes fixed on Raven, her breathing tight with nerves she couldn't hide.

Raven sat on the stool without a flicker of unease. McGonagall lowered the heavy, shabby hat onto his head.

In that instant, an old, hoarse voice, thick with astonishment, rang out deep inside Raven's mind.

"Oh… dear me, dear me! Look at what I've found!"

The Sorting Hat's voice nearly cracked, trembling with disbelief. "Such a vast, bottomless reserve of magic! The pure blood of the ancient Capets… and intellect! A near-merciless hunger for knowledge and insight. Ravenclaw would go mad for you, child! You could become the next Ravenclaw in the House of the Eagle!"

"I'd advise you not to, Mr. Hat."

Raven replied calmly and coldly in his mind. "Ravenclaw pursues knowledge. I pursue the power to command knowledge, and… authority."

"Hss… ambition! Immeasurable ambition and ruthless resolve!"

The Hat writhed violently atop Raven's head, as if it couldn't bear the abyss-like pressure of the magic inside him. "Born nobility, old-school pure-blood bearing, an elegance even more exacting than Salazar Slytherin's own… You actually mean to trample pure-blood glory and modern rules underfoot and remake them?!"

One minute passed. Three minutes passed.

Not a sound in the hall. Over a thousand students and teachers traded stunned looks. A rare "Hatstall"!

Draconia twisted her fingers together, her palms damp with a thin sheen of sweat, her heart pounding like a drum. Where will he be sent?! Ravenclaw? Gryffindor?! Anything but—

Just as the tension in the hall reached its peak!

The Sorting Hat seemed to make some earth-shattering decision at last. It split its patched mouth wide and roared, loud enough to shake the vaulted ceiling of Hogwarts:

"The undisputed ruler—!!!" "SLYTHERIN—!!!!"

Boom!!!

The hall exploded in an uproar! At the very head of the Slytherin table, Draconia looked as though a Full Body-Bind Curse had hit her on the spot. The exquisite silver knife slipped from her hand and clattered onto her golden plate!

He… he's Slytherin too?!

The Raven Capet who had torn up her engagement, made her cry, and whom she had sworn to bring down with Slytherin's influence… was in the same House as her?!

Draconia's gray-blue eyes were glazed, full of collapse and absurdity.

Raven took off the Sorting Hat, smoothed his black robes with perfect grace, and strode unhurried toward the Slytherin table through a silence and a scattering of belated applause.

Even deadlier, out of the few empty seats left at the whole table, the chair Raven pulled out was directly across from the gaping Miss Malfoy.

Raven sat with easy elegance, his jade-slender fingers laced lightly on the table.

He met Draconia's gray-blue eyes, which looked ready to spit fire, and his thin lips curved into an utterly charming smile, one that made the young lady's scalp prickle.

"What a coincidence, Miss Malfoy." "Looks like we'll be seeing a lot of each other over the next seven years."

[Ding! Worldview collapse detected in key character 'Draconia Malfoy'!] [Reversal Points +600!]