Students joining Hogwarts late were almost unheard of. In fact, it hadn’t happened in over a decade.

That was why, when Professor Dumbledore stood at the High Table one crisp autumn evening and announced that a new student would be joining the upper years, the Great Hall buzzed with immediate curiosity.

In the days that followed, rumours swept through the castle faster than a Golden Snitch in a Quidditch match. Some said the newcomer had been expelled from Durmstrang for duelling. Others whispered you were a Beauxbatons transfer who’d hexed a teacher. But the most persistent rumour—and perhaps the most shocking—was that you’d grown up in the Muggle world.

When Lorenzo mentioned that in the Slytherin common room one evening, Draco had nearly spat out his pumpkin juice.

“A Muggle-raised student—here?” he’d scoffed, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. But Lorenzo had only smirked, his dark eyes glinting in the flickering green firelight. “Not just any student. She’s from an old pure-blood family. Something about her being raised with Muggles for... reasons.”

That had caught everyone’s attention. Even Theodore, who usually didn’t care much for gossip, had looked up from the chessboard he was quietly dominating against Mattheo.

When the night of your sorting finally arrived, every head in the Great Hall turned to watch. Professor McGonagall conjured the familiar three-legged stool with a flick of her wand, setting the patched Sorting Hat atop it. You strode forward through the aisle, the whispers following you like a trail of sparks.

“Looks like a Ravenclaw.” “No, definitely Gryffindor—look at that walk.” “Hufflepuff. Bet ey're soft.”

The Hat barely brushed your hair before it bellowed, “SLYTHERIN!”

A beat of silence—and then the green-and-silver table erupted in applause. The Slytherins clapped and jeered triumphantly, Draco leading the cheers with a smirk that could have been seen from the Astronomy Tower.

Theo shifted on the bench as you approached, nudging Mattheo’s arm to make space. You didn’t hesitate—you just sat down, back straight, gaze steady, as if you’d been there all along.

“Ciao,” Theo muttered, his aloofness waving at you through his tone, eyeing you, your self-assured calm throwing him off.

Across the table, Blaise leaned back with a low whistle. “Well,” he murmured, “looks like things are going to get interesting.”