At the front of the hall stood a simple wooden stool. Resting on it was a tall, battered wizard's hat, its brim frayed and patched with age. The Sorting Hat was singing to itself in a cracked, theatrical voice until Professor McGonagall stepped forward and it fell silent.
"When I call your name," she said, unrolling a parchment, "you will come forward, put on the hat, and wait for your house to be chosen."
"Colin Creevey."
Colin flinched, then hurried up the aisle. He perched on the stool, hands clenched, the hat slipping down over his eyes.
Almost instantly, it shouted, "Gryffindor!"
Cheers erupted from the Gryffindor table as Colin beamed and nearly tripped rushing toward it.
"Astoria Greengrass."
"Slytherin!"
"Luna Lovegood."
"Ravenclaw!"
"Ginny Weasley."
"Gryffindor!"
One by one, names were called, applause and murmurs rippling through the hall. Before Rowan quite realized it, Professor McGonagall's voice rang out again.
"Rowan Mercer."
He stepped forward and placed the hat on his head.
There was no hesitation. No whispered questions. No deliberation.
"Slytherin!"
A flicker of surprise crossed Rowan's face, but it vanished just as quickly. He removed the hat, set it back on the stool, and walked calmly toward the Slytherin table.
He'd expected Gryffindor, or perhaps Ravenclaw. Slytherin hadn't been his first guess. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He planned carefully, valued results, and pursued clear goals without sentimentality. Ambition, discipline, direction. Those traits fit him better than he'd cared to admit.
Slytherin wasn't evil. None of the houses were.
Gryffindor had produced cowards as well as heroes. Slytherin had produced people like Regulus Black, who chose death rather than betray his conscience. Each house reflected virtues, not moral absolutes.
Courage. Intelligence. Loyalty. Ambition.
Different paths, not different values.
"As long as I bring results," Rowan thought, settling into his seat, "Snape will protect his own."
The Sorting concluded shortly after. Dumbledore rose, offered a brief welcome, introduced the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Gilderoy Lockhart, and declared the feast open.
In an instant, the tables filled with food. Platters of roast meats, vegetables, breads, and desserts appeared as hungry students dug in with enthusiasm.
Rowan ate as well, but part of his attention remained fixed on the staff table.
Before long, the doors of the Great Hall swung open.
A tall, thin man swept inside like a shadow given form. His sallow skin, hooked nose, and greasy black hair framed a face carved in perpetual disdain. His black robes billowed behind him as he moved with predatory purpose.
Severus Snape.
The temperature in the hall seemed to drop as he passed. Students of every house fell silent in his wake.
Snape leaned in to speak with Dumbledore and McGonagall. Whatever he said made McGonagall's expression darken instantly. Moments later, all three rose and left the hall together.
Back at the Slytherin table, conversation resumed, drifting quickly into boastful territory.
"My father was promoted again at the Ministry."
"I got my first wand at seven. Twenty galleons."
"That's nothing. My family—"
Most of the first-years were pure-bloods, or close enough, many already familiar with one another. Status was being established early.
Rowan didn't join in.
He knew exactly where he stood. No known family. No lineage worth mentioning. In Slytherin, that put him near the bottom.
But blood only mattered until power entered the equation.
Snape. Voldemort. None of them had relied on pedigree alone.
As Rowan calmly ate, a sudden chill swept the table.
A ghost materialized beside him, pale and hollow-eyed, his form soaked in dark, dripping stains. Blood floated around him as if gravity no longer applied.
"The Bloody Baron," someone whispered in horror.
The Slytherin ghost took a seat beside Rowan.
Rowan glanced over, met the ghost's empty gaze, and offered a polite nod before returning to his meal.
The Baron paused, clearly surprised, then inclined his head in return.
Whispers spread quickly.
"Who is that?"
"Never heard of him. Must be a half-blood."
"Really? He doesn't act like one."
Rowan ignored them all.
Curiosity was fine. Respect would come later.