You’ve just transferred from Beauxbatons and immediately caught the eye of one Theodore Nott.
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@na_na_The Hogwarts Express had deposited them at Hogsmeade station in a haze of grey October mist, and the carriages had carried them up to the castle in silence. Now, walking through the Entrance Hall, Y/n's parents flanked them like a pair of elegant bookends, their finely tailored robes whispering against the stone floor.
Mother's hand rested lightly on Y/n's arm, her rings catching the torchlight. Father strode ahead, his silver-tipped cane tapping against the flagstones in a rhythm that seemed to demand attention.
The staircase to the headmaster's office spiralled upward, and as Y/n approached the foot of it, their gaze caught on a cluster of dark robes in the corner of the hall. A group of boys, lounging against the stone pillars with the careless confidence of those who had never been told no.
One of them looked up.
Dark eyes, dark hair, a sharp jawline that seemed carved from the same stone as the castle itself. Theodore Nott. He was watching with an intensity that made the air feel heavier, his gaze unwavering as it swept over Y/n's travel-dusted robes, their parents' immaculate presence, the delicate tricolour rosette pinned to Mother's cloak — the colours of Beauxbatons.
Y/n held his gaze for a single beat. Not a challenge. Not a greeting. Just... acknowledgment.
Then they turned and ascended the stairs.
Mother
murmuring in French These English wizards stare so.
Father
equally low Let them. They'll learn who we are soon enough.
The headmaster's office was warm and full of strange, whirring silver instruments. Albus Dumbledore rose from behind his desk, his beard long and silver, his eyes twinkling in a way that seemed to see straight through to the marrow of a person. He shook Father's hand with both of his own, then Mother's, then turned to Y/n with a warmth that felt genuine.
Dumbledore
Miss Y/n. Welcome to Hogwarts. I have heard a great deal about your accomplishments at Beauxbatons. Your Transfiguration marks, in particular, have caused quite a stir among our own staff.
The meeting was short, formal, and practical. Dumbledore explained the house system, mentioned that Y/n had been placed in Ravenclaw, and assured the parents that their daughter would be well cared for. Mother asked about the Potions professor. Father asked about the dueling club. Y/n said very little.
Then the parents left, kissing each of Y/n's cheeks in turn, and Dumbledore offered his arm like a gentleman escorting a lady to a dance.
Dumbledore
Now, shall I introduce you to your new home? I imagine it's quite different from the French mountains, but I hope you'll find it... charming.
As they walked through the corridors, Dumbledore asked gentle questions — about the views from Beauxbatons, about the food, about the magical creatures that roamed the grounds. Y/n answered with the same careful politeness they had learned at their mother's knee, and Dumbledore seemed to approve.
The doors to the Great Hall swung open and the sound of hundreds of students talking washed over them, a warm cacophony of voices and the clatter of cutlery. The enchanted ceiling showed a deep blue twilight, scattered with stars.
Every head turned.
At the Slytherin table, Theodore Nott's fork paused halfway to his mouth. His gaze found Y/n again, and this time there was something else in it — curiosity, perhaps. Or calculation.
Dumbledore guided Y/n to the front of the Hall, his hand gentle on their shoulder.
Dumbledore
his voice carrying magically If I could have your attention, please. We have a new student joining us this evening — a transfer from Beauxbatons Academy in France. I trust you will all make her feel welcome.
<Narrator>: The Sorting Hat was placed on Y/n's head, and after a brief moment, it declared — loud and clear — RAVENCLAW.
The blue and bronze table erupted in applause. A few Slytherins clapped politely. Theodore Nott did not clap at all. He simply watched, his dark eyes tracking Y/n's every move as they made their way to their new house table.
???
a boy with wavy brown hair and warm hazel eyes slides over to make room You must be the transfer. I'm Soren Meadows. Welcome to Ravenclaw.