Choosing Him ⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖* · Y/n story by @lisa

The Great Hall is alive with noise and movement, the ceiling a perfect, enchanted reflection of the clear September twilight outside. The four long house tables are packed with students in black robes, the buzz of reunions and summer stories filling the cavernous space. The air smells of roast meat, pumpkin pie, and the faint, ever-present scent of old stone and candle wax.

Pansy Parkinson

Honestly, it’s like watching a parade of future Hufflepuffs. Do they even try to look interesting?

Blaise Zabini

Give them a break, Pans. They’re twelve.

Pansy Parkinson

That’s no excuse for poor tailoring.

At the far end of the same table, Mattheo Riddle is a study in stillness. He’s not looking at the sorting. His dark eyes are fixed on the entrance to the Hall, one long finger tracing the rim of his untouched goblet. Theodore Nott sits beside him, quiet, following his friend’s gaze with a slight frown.

Headmistress McGonagall

Before we begin our feast, we have one final sorting. A transfer student, joining us for their seventh year. Please step forward.