The air seemed to tighten, anticipation hanging like a tangible thread. Rigel's smirk softened slightly, a hint of patience replacing his teasing tone. He was ready, observing, calculating not just the Sorting, but the subtle dynamics of every student, every whispered thought, every gleam in the older students' eyes, and in front of them in a stool was an hat.
The Sorting Hat's brim quivered as it spoke, and a low, echoing voice filled the Great Hall:
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,But don't judge on what you see, I'll eat myself if you can find a smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,Your top hats sleek and tall, For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat and I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head the Sorting Hat can't see, So try me on and I will tell you where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,Where dwell the brave at heart, Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff, Where they are just and loyal, Those patient Hufflepuffs are true and unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,If you've a ready mind,Where those of wit and learning,Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin, You'll make your real friends, Those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid! And don't get in a flap! You might belong in Gryffindor, or Slytherin, Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw!"
McGonagall's voice cut through the murmurs: "First-years, step forward when your name is called. ."
The first-years stiffened and shuffled nervously as the Sorting began.
"Abbott, Hannah.""Hufflepuff!"
A cheer went up from the Hufflepuff table; students clapped and waved as Hannah hurried over, cheeks flushed with excitement.
"Bones, Susan.""Hufflepuff!"
More applause followed, a few friendly smiles and nods welcoming her to the table.
The Sorting continued, names echoing through the hall one after another, each followed by a mix of cheers and groans from the different tables.
"Granger, Hermione.""Gryffindor!"
The Gryffindor table erupted with cheers and whistles, hats tossed in the air as students clapped her on the back.
More names passed each house slowly filling, the hall buzzing with noise and shifting colors of robes.
"Malfoy, Draco.""Slytherin!"
The word rang out the instant the Hat touched his head. A ripple of approval passed through the Slytherin table; several students smirked, whispering among themselves.
Several more names followed before
"Potter, Harry."
The boy with the scar stepped forward, and a hush fell over the first-years.
The Hat seemed to think for a moment, then shouted:"Gryffindor!"
The Gryffindor table exploded in cheers. "We got Potter! We got Potter!" they chanted, pounding the table as Harry smiled awkwardly and took his seat.
The Sorting went on, the line of students thinning, until finally
"Serpico-Black, Rigel."
The name echoed through the Great Hall, and at once the noise dimmed. Conversations faltered, the clatter of cutlery from the staff table stilled, and even the students leaned forward with a mix of curiosity and unease.
Draco's gray eyes froze, a flicker of realization passing over his face. Moments ago, before the Sorting, he had boasted about "family standing" and only now did he understand exactly before whom he had spoken.
Hermione frowned, confused by the sudden hush that had fallen over the hall. She tugged at the sleeve of an older Gryffindor nearby and whispered, "Why did everyone go quiet?"
The boy blinked at her, then whispered back, awe in his voice, "The Serpicos… and the Blacks. Old blood. Especially the Serpicos they were powerful… feared. Most thought no child of that line still lived."
Hermione's eyes flicked briefly toward Rigel, the new piece of information turning in her mind. She quietly resolved to look it up later and to find out whether her childhood friend already knew what his name truly meant.
At the staff table, Snape's dark eyes widened, pupils dilating before he carefully masked his expression again. For the briefest heartbeat, he remembered one of his most guarded friendships a connection lost in time, now resurfacing in the form of this boy.
Quirrell twitched, his hand shooting to his forehead as if struck by a sharp, private pain.
Through it all, Rigel walked with immaculate poise. His steps were slow but certain, each movement deliberate, his green-steel eyes cutting through the silence with quiet dominance. He sat, as if the entire hall existed merely to watch him, and lowered the Sorting Hat onto his head.
A voice stirred at once in his mind. 'Interesting… very interesting. Such ambition, such discipline… but wait, loyalty. Not the mild sort of most children your age, no… yours is unbreakable. To family, to oath, to vengeance. You would burn the world before betraying what you've sworn.'
Rigel's lips curled faintly, invisible beneath the brim. 'You may see it that way.'
The Hat rifled gently through his thoughts, and for a moment its voice softened. '…ah. I see. I am sorry for your loss.'
Rigel's mind was steel, his reply calm, unwavering. 'Do not be. They will pay. And I will rise.'
The Hat hummed with something close to approval. 'Such loyalty could thrive in Hufflepuff… but you'd turn that House into a blade. Clever enough for Ravenclaw, courage enough for Gryffindor… but no, no. It's clear where you belong. You crave legacy. You demand power. You will rebuild a name until it echoes like thunder.'
'We both know it. There's only one house that fits me. Only one I'll raise to its true majesty.'
The Hat chuckled low in his mind. 'Yes… yes indeed. Ambition sharpened by loyalty. Dangerous, but magnificent.'
The Sorting Hat chuckled, but this time its voice rose, not just in Rigel's mind but as if projected outward, spilling into the hall itself:
"There is only one place that belongs to you by blood… one place written into your marrow. And I almost pity the others who dwell there. SLYTHERIN!"
The final word rang through the Great Hall like a crack of thunder.
For a heartbeat, silence reigned. Then the Slytherin table erupted in applause sharp, eager, and almost hungry. Students leaned forward, some clapping with genuine excitement, others with wariness, all aware that something rare had just been seated among them.
The Gryffindors muttered uneasily, some whispering about the name "Black," others staring at Rigel's eerie, slit pupiled eyes. Hermione bit her lip with curiosity, and Harry… Harry couldn't look away. He felt a pull wary fascination as if the boy who had spoken against Malfoy was now something else entirely, something larger than life.
The Hufflepuffs were subdued, a few clapping politely, but most watching with a mixture of discomfort and curiosity. It was not loyalty they sensed in him, but the razor edge of it, turned into a weapon.
The Ravenclaws leaned toward one another, murmuring in quick, hushed voices. "A Serpico… and a Black…" one whispered. Another added, "Did you see his eyes? They're slitted… like a snake's."
Rigel rose smoothly, removing the Hat with deliberate grace. His lips curled into the faintest smirk, his posture elegant and unyielding, and the echo of the Hat's pronouncement still clung to him like a mantle.
The boy who had entered as an enigma now walked toward the Slytherin table as if he had claimed the place by right, shadows and whispers following every measured step.
The Slytherins shifted to make room, some clapping with feral excitement, others watching with wary calculation. Gryffindor's table had gone tense,while Harry's gaze stayed locked on Rigel, equal parts cautious and intrigued.
Up at the staff table, Snape's black eyes narrowed, betraying a flicker of something almost raw recognition and unease in equal measure. Quirrell pressed trembling fingers to his temple, as though the boy's presence were a spike in his mind. And at the center, Dumbledore's gaze lingered with unsettling calm, as if he had been expecting this moment all along.
Rigel sat, serpent like eyes glinting faintly in the candlelight, and only then did the Great Hall's buzz begin to return, voices swelling in waves of awe, curiosity, and fear.
Professor McGonagall continued for a while, her sharp eyes scanning the parchment once more.
"Weasley, Ronald."
Ron stumbled forward, ears red, tripping slightly on his own robes as the Hat dropped over his head. There was a brief pause the faintest twitch of Ron's mouth as the Hat debated then it shouted:
"Gryffindor!"
The Gryffindor table erupted in cheers, clapping and pounding on the wood as Ron nearly sprinted to join his brothers, face flushed with relief.
After a short while, McGonagall called the final name.
"Zabini, Blaise."
A tall, composed boy with dark skin and sharp eyes strode forward with quiet dignity. The Sorting Hat barely touched his head before declaring:
"SLYTHERIN!"
The table of green and silver cheered again, though this time it was more restrained the same calculating applause they had given Rigel, the kind that weighed and measured as much as it welcomed. Blaise slid into his place, eyes darting briefly toward Rigel with something like curiosity before his expression smoothed into cool indifference.
Albus dumbleador then say:
"Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
Rigel ate with effortless poise, each movement precise and elegant, engaging in light conversation with the other Slytherins at the table. At one point, he picked up a chicken leg and handed it to Etheline, saying in a low, teasing tone,
Etheline slipped out from beneath his robes to take it.
The Slytherin table froze for a moment, confused by the sight of the snake moving so freely, while the rest of the hall went momentarily still, the sound of Rigel's laugh hanging unnervingly in the air.
And it was in this atmosfere with the other slytherin fearing getting too close to Rigel that they continued to eat.
It was after they had finished eating that Dumbledore said:
"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term."
"I must also inform you that the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is forbidden, if you wish to avoid a most gruesome death."
"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become somewhat fixed.
Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if trying to shoo a fly off the tip, and a long golden ribbon shot out, rising high above the tables and twisting snakelike into words.
"Everyone pick your favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"
And so, everyone sang to a different tune, with a pair of twins in Gryffindor choosing a funeral march tempo. When the song ended, the headmaster wiped his eyes and said softly, "Ah, music… a magic beyond all we do here!"
At last, the prefects stepped forward, guiding the first-years quietly to their respective common rooms, the echoes of the Great Hall fading behind them.
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The prefect stepped back, letting the first-years take in their new surroundings.
The Slytherin common room was situated in the dungeons, its atmosphere both grand and cozy. A large window offered a view of the Black Lake, the waters shimmering in the dim light. The firelight reflected off dark stone walls, casting elongated shadows across the room. A relaxing area centered around a fireplace was furnished with plush sofas and chairs, accompanied by a small table perfect for studying or casual conversation. Along the side, a well-stocked bookshelf held volumes for both learning and leisure, completing the elegant, inviting space. The air smelled faintly of parchment and wax, tinged with a subtle magic, hinting that knowledge and power were never far from reach.
Gemma Farley the female prefect began " This is the Slytherin common room", her tone clipped but controlled, "where you will spend much of your time. Our House values ambition, cunning, and loyalty to one another. Here, you are expected to maintain the dignity of our name, uphold our standards, and" she cast a sharp glance at Rigel, which barely fazed him"treat your fellow housemates with the respect they are due."
The first-years shifted uneasily, some exchanging whispered glances. Gemma continued, pacing lightly across the floor. "You'll find that Slytherin can be… challenging. Rivalries will form, alliances will matter, and every action may reflect upon you and our House. Learn quickly, adapt faster, and do not underestimate the consequences of failure."
She stopped in front of Rigel, green-steel eyes meeting his with a flicker of caution. "And as for you," she said smoothly, "I trust you understand the expectations of your heritage and your House. We do not tolerate those who act without purpose or without regard for Slytherin's legacy."
Rigel inclined his head slightly, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. "I assure you, Prefect Farley, I know better than you what Salazar Slytherin's legacy is, and in this regard, I will observe every single one of you. I show no mercy to anyone who tarnishes my family name." His voice carried calm authority, with a dangerous edge that made even Gemma's posture subtly stiffen. At that moment, Tenebris decided to finally make himself known.
Rigel shot an annoyed glance at him.
Tenebris responded in an all-too-innocent tone,
Rigel sighed but let the moment slide.
Tenebris slid closer, moving with sinuous grace until he reached Rigel's leg. He coiled upward, eventually settling on Rigel's chest, and then slithered partially under his robes, curling near his sister Etheline. The Slytherins present froze, initially startled by the sudden appearance of a new snake, and then visibly creeped out as they watched it slither under Rigel's clothing.
After the brief pause caused by Rigel and his snakes, giving Gemma a moment to compose herself, she rounded the group, her gaze sharp and assessing. "The male dormitories are down the spiral staircase on the left, the female ones on the right. Male students are strictly forbidden from entering the girls' side. All chambers are single; Slytherin values secrecy, privacy, and discretion above all."
Her voice lowered slightly, drawing the first-years' attention. "If you have a problem with another Slytherin, you handle it here, within these walls. Outside, we present a united front. Remember this."
She gestured toward a corner of the room. "The door password changes once a month. The new one will be posted on the board by the end of the month. Fail to know it, and… well, let's not find out what happens."
Her eyes flicked across the group, lingering for a heartbeat on each nervous face. "If a situation escalates beyond your control, seek help from a prefect or Professor Snape, though I warn you, he is not easily impressed."
She straightened, letting the weight of her words settle. "One last point: we are aiming for our eighth House Cup victory. Do not be the one to endanger it. Keep your wits sharp, your loyalties sharper, and your ambitions well, make sure they serve Slytherin."
As the first-years dispersed, Rigel lingered near the fireplace, eyes sweeping the room. He noted the subtle tensions, the silent judgments, the sparks of curiosity from the younger students. Some were cautious, some intrigued, but all felt the unspoken weight of his presence. A predator in a new den, surveying his territory before the games even began.
He let his gaze drift to the window overlooking the Black Lake, the water catching the last flickers of candlelight. The moonlight danced across the ripples like liquid silver. Then he moved toward a plain wall, where two silver snakes were inlaid, their eyes glinting faintly. He spoke, his voice calm yet commanding:
The snakes stirred as if awakened from a long slumber, their bodies coiling and sliding into the stone, revealing a doorway crafted with exquisite precision. A golden plaque gleamed above it: "Slytherin's Personal Room." Rigel stepped forward, the faint echo of his footsteps merging with the whisper of ancient magic, and crossed the threshold into what would become his sanctuary for the next seven years
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