The words were barely out of his mouth when the Great Hall doors swung open. The sound wasn’t loud, exactly. But it cut through the noise in a way that made conversations stutter, falter, then fall silent. Hundreds of faces turned toward the entrance. A girl stood in the doorway. Her robes were plain—no house colors yet, no insignia. She didn’t look around. She didn’t look nervous. She simply began walking forward. Her hair fell in sleek, pale waves past her shoulders. Her face was pale, sharp-boned, with features that seemed chiseled rather than soft. And her eyes—grey, unmistakably grey—swept the room once, quickly, as if memorizing every face, every exit, every possible threat. She didn’t smile. She didn’t acknowledge anyone. She looked like she was walking into a room she expected to hate..

She walked past the Ravenclaw table. Past the Hufflepuffs—a few of whom whispered behind their hands. Past the Gryffindors, who were too busy staring to bother with whispers. As she passed the Slytherin table, she didn’t turn her head. But Draco caught sight of her profile in the half-light. And something in his chest went very, very still. He knew that face. He was certain he knew that face. Except he had never seen her before in his life. He frowned without meaning to. She reached the head of the Hall. Professor McGonagall said something to her—too quiet to hear. The girl nodded once. The Sorting Hat was lowered onto her head. The silence stretched, thickened, became unbearable. The hat’s brim twitched. It seemed to speak to her for longer than usual. Then:.

A low ripple ran through the Hall. Someone near the back clapped—quickly stifled. The girl lifted the hat off her head and handed it back to McGonagall without ceremony. Then she turned and walked toward the Slytherin table without looking at anyone. She reached the far end of the table—near the edge, far from the older students—and sat down in an empty seat. She didn’t reach for food. She didn’t speak. She simply sat very straight, her grey eyes fixed on the opposite wall, as if willing everyone to ignore her..

And for the first time since he had learned to speak, Draco Malfoy was telling the absolute truth. He had no idea who the girl sitting only a few seats away from him was. He didn’t know her name. He didn’t know where she had come from. He didn’t know why staring at her made his chest feel tight in a way he couldn’t explain. He didn’t know that she had been sorted into the same house as him. He didn’t know that she’d be sitting near him for the rest of the year. He didn’t know that her eyes were the exact same shade of grey as his own. He didn’t know that the girl who had just sat down at the far end of his table, a stranger in every way that mattered, was the sister he had spent seventeen years believing he never had. And neither did she.