A ripple of whispers, quickly silenced by the Headmaster's raised hand. Hundreds of curious eyes darted toward the doors at the back of the Hall. No one was seated there. No one was standing there either. Just the empty, oak doors, waiting.

The doors swung open. The sound was like a crack of thunder in the sudden silence. Every head turned. Every breath was held.

The Hat was placed on Y/n's head. The warmth of it was startling, like a familiar hand resting on a shoulder. Inside, a soft murmur, a consideration, a weight of thought that seemed to travel down the spine and settle in the chest.

The whispers had started again, louder now. At the Slytherin table, Regulus Black's hand paused over his goblet, his dark eyes fixed on the figure under the Hat with an intensity that cut through the noise.

The blue and bronze banners overhead rippled as if caught by a wind no one else could feel. The Ravenclaw table erupted in applause, a wave of silver and blue pulling Y/n toward them, away from the center of the Hall, away from that heavy, piercing gaze.

Regulus blinked, his goblet finally lowering to the table, untouched. His knuckles had gone white around the stem.

He looked back toward the Ravenclaw table, but Y/n had their back to him now, speaking to the students around them. Regulus's jaw tightened.