Chapter 51: Belonging! Anger!

The Great Hall erupted into hushed whispers, all eyes fixed on Aurora. No one even spared a glance at Daphne, whose legs had given out beneath her.

Grindelwald.

To Daphne, that name could determine the fate of her entire family.

To the pure-blood and half-blood students present, it was nothing short of legendary—the name that once made all of Europe tremble.

Some students, perhaps shielded from certain truths by their families, might not fully grasp the terror of the Dark Lord Voldemort. But everyone knew of Grindelwald, Albus Dumbledore's greatest rival.

After all—

His name was not just buried in obscure texts. It was printed in chocolate frog cards, immortalized in history books, and forever etched in Dumbledore's legacy. Defeating Grindelwald was one of the Headmaster's most famous achievements.

Even those with little knowledge of the past understood that this alone spoke volumes. Among pure-blood families, there was no doubt about the weight that name once carried across Europe.

Perhaps Grindelwald never extended his reach to England.

But it would be foolish to think that some pure-blood families hadn't quietly sympathized with his ideology.

Even now, his name had never truly faded. Tales of his conquests, including the infamous Burning of Paris, still lingered in the whispers of wizarding history.

Yet, no one had expected Hogwarts to welcome a Grindelwald.

Instinctively, many students turned their eyes toward Dumbledore.

But—

The Headmaster merely smiled.

"What is Dumbledore thinking?"

"Merlin's beard! Look at her eyes! They say the Grindelwalds have an enchantment in them—eyes that can bend minds to their will! Are we all doomed to become her servants?"

"She's stunning! I wouldn't mind—"

"Snap out of it! You're a girl too!"

The murmurs weren't particularly loud, but a few stray words inevitably reached Aurora's ears. She showed no reaction, her expression blank as she took her seat on the Sorting stool, waiting patiently.

"Don't mind them, child," Professor McGonagall murmured as she placed a reassuring hand on Aurora's shoulder. "They don't mean any harm."

Then, she lowered the Sorting Hat onto Aurora's head.

No one could hear what the hat whispered to her.

A suffocating silence settled over the Great Hall.

Time stretched.

Minutes passed.

Then—

"SLYTHERIN!"

The moment the Sorting Hat declared its decision, the silence shattered.

The Slytherin table erupted into cheers unlike anything seen before. Some of the older students even stood, clapping enthusiastically.

A descendant of the First Dark Lord?

For some, that was exactly how they saw it.

For others, it was not so simple.

Slytherin students were known for their cunning minds. Many had already reached conclusions that the other Houses hadn't yet begun to consider.

"Slytherin welcomes you! It is an honor to have you with us!"

Upper-year students greeted her warmly.

Aurora, however, merely nodded politely and chose an empty seat, distancing herself from the overwhelming enthusiasm. She furrowed her brows slightly, as if in thought, then spoke:

"Apologies. I have autism. I don't like talking much."

A moment of stunned silence followed.

Some Slytherins looked bewildered. Others hesitated, unsure how to respond. While a few still attempted to strike up a conversation, the overall excitement dimmed significantly.

Meanwhile—

"What do I do?!"

While most of Slytherin rejoiced, one student sat frozen with dread—Daphne Greengrass.

As if fate had a cruel sense of timing, Professor McGonagall called her name.

"Daphne Greengrass!"

Normally, she would have relished the attention. But after Aurora's sorting, far fewer students were focused on her.

Not that it mattered.

The proud and defiant Daphne Greengrass was as pale as a sheet. She had no recollection of walking to the Sorting Hat—no room left in her mind for petty concerns like the hat being old and filthy.

Her entire family had been Slytherins for generations.

And yet—

For the first time in her life, Daphne desperately wished for another House.

Perhaps… Ravenclaw wouldn't be so bad?

"SLYTHERIN!"

No such luck.

As the Sorting Hat declared her House, Daphne felt no joy.

With trembling steps, she made her way toward the cheering Slytherin table. After a brief hesitation, she forced herself to sit beside Aurora.

"I… I'm sorry… I—"

Daphne Greengrass, raised in privilege and pride, had never before felt lost. She had never been forced to correct a mistake this severe.

Yet here she was—unsure, flustered, and on the verge of tears.

She had insulted a Grindelwald.

More than anyone else at this table, she understood just how terrifying that name truly was.

Aurora gestured for her to sit closer, creating a barrier between Daphne and the rest of the eager students. It wasn't just her name that drew attention—her striking beauty was another unwanted source of trouble.

"Greengrass," Aurora said calmly, "I'm not your biggest problem right now."

Daphne hesitated.

"Huh?"

Aurora kept her eyes forward, watching the Sorting continue.

"You've made an enemy far worse than me."

Daphne blinked in confusion.

Before she could ask what that meant—

Professor McGonagall called another name.

"Peter Papaclaw!"

A small boy hurried up to the Sorting Hat.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Cheers rose from the lion's table.

Then—

A hush fell over the hall once more.

Daphne stiffened as the next name was announced.

No.

No, it couldn't be.

"Ian Prince!"

Gasps rippled through the students.

Ian Prince.

The boy nearly sprinted to the Sorting Hat, slamming it onto his head before Professor McGonagall could even lower it.

Even McGonagall blinked in surprise.

But she said nothing.

After all, this wasn't breaking any rules.

"Huh?"

The moment the hat settled on his head, Ian heard its voice—puzzled, intrigued.

"Is it difficult to sort me?" Ian asked.

"No, no," the hat murmured. "You have courage and talent. Loyalty and ambition. You could thrive in any House. But—"

The Sorting Hat paused.

"There is something else… Something rare… Yes, yes… How familiar this feels…"

It sounded almost nostalgic.

"Actually… someone tried to bribe me to put you in Slytherin. I was inclined to listen, since I do enjoy avoiding being tossed into a dung heap by angry first-years…"

Ian raised an eyebrow.

"But no… No, I must uphold my duty."

The Sorting Hat's voice grew firmer.

"You must go where you belong!"

Then, in an almost sorrowful whisper—

"You remind me of her. She, too, was so lonely. But now… I have finally found someone who truly carries on her legacy."

A weighty silence hung in the air.

And then—

"RAVENCLAW!"

A deafening cheer rose from the eagle's table.

But elsewhere—

SLAM!

A hand slammed against the teacher's table.

Professor Snape had shot to his feet, furious.

At the Slytherin table, someone fainted.

A few younger students, overwhelmed by the absurdity of the night, simply toppled over, unconscious.