Vale watched as Hannah's name was called first.
She approached the stool with visible trepidation, her blonde braids swinging nervously.
The moment the hat touched her head, it called out "HUFFLEPUFF!" and her face melted into pure relief.
The Hufflepuff table erupted in welcoming applause as Hannah practically skipped toward her new housemates.
Stephen Cornfoot was next among those Vale recognised.
The quiet boy sat beneath the hat with a composed expression that betrayed little emotion. After a moment's consideration, the hat declared "RAVENCLAW!" Stephen nodded once, as if confirming a hypothesis, before joining the table beneath blue and bronze banners.
When Neville's name echoed through the hall, the round-faced boy nearly tripped over his own feet approaching the stool. Vale watched as Neville's knuckles whitened, gripping the edges of the seat while the hat deliberated.
The silence stretched uncomfortably long, and sweat beaded on Neville's forehead. Finally, the hat shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" Neville was so stunned he ran off still wearing the hat, having to jog back amid scattered laughter to return it.
Vale noticed how each of them—Hannah, Stephen, and Neville—looked toward him as they took their seats at their respective house tables.
Hannah gave an encouraging smile, Stephen a curious nod, and Neville a nervous but genuine thumbs-up. Their silent support was unexpected, almost disarming.
Names continued until finally—
"Windrow, Vale!"
The hall fell unusually quiet. Perhaps the students noticed the small ripple among the professors.
It was… tense, to say the least.
Vale stepped forward, aware of Snape's narrowed gaze tracking his movement and Dumbledore leaning slightly forward at the high table. The weight of their attention pressed against him as he approached the stool.
The hat descended, and darkness filled his vision as a voice whispered directly into his mind.
"How fascinating... A mind brimming with secrets. Knowledge you should not have. Courage wrapped in cold flame. Ravenclaw would feed your hunger for mastery… But you do not seek wisdom for wisdom's sake. You seek control. Slytherin… oh yes, Slytherin would give you the tools to carve your own path. Difficult… very difficult…"
Vale remained silent, but inwardly reached not for knowledge's approval but for freedom—the chance to shape himself without interference.
"SLYTHERIN!" the hat bellowed with finality.
At the Slytherin table, polite applause rose—some hesitant, others calculating the value of this new addition. The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables rippled with uncomfortable whispers.
Vale glanced toward his recent acquaintances. A sadistic smirk almost appeared on his lips.
'How delightful,' he mused, truly enjoying this moment for some bizarre reason.
Neville's face had drained of colour. Hannah clutched the edge of the Hufflepuff table. Stephen stared with wide, bewildered eyes.
Then, Neville and Hannah exchanged a glance that hovered somewhere between confusion and fear. Despite the distance of tables, they shared the same apprehension.
Slytherin and its people.
They had hoped Vale would end up in a more acceptable house, perhaps Gryffindor, but Slytherin was the last place they wanted him to be. The line between friendship and rivalry seems drawn in that single moment.
Vale rose calmly and walked to the Slytherin table, each step deliberate beneath the shimmering green and silver banners. His gaze was challenging and haughty. Almost like Draco Malfoy, but many could sense danger the moment their eyes met.
Therefore, all that haughtiness was perceived instead as a threatening charisma.
Was it because he was a living, breathing symbiotic Obscurial?
Those with stronger attunement to magic felt the air around Vale. It was palpable malevolence.
A taboo had been crossed, in some way.
Somehow.
Thus.
As he took his seat, he caught the tail end of Snape's satisfied smirk. Dumbledore's gaze lingered longer than necessary, his expression unreadable.
Neville, already on edge, visibly flinched when Vale took his seat at the Slytherin table. His fingers twisted in his lap nervously, and though he tried to smile, the unease was hard to hide.
Hannah's face was pale, her lips pressed tight, and her gaze avoided Vale entirely. She was afraid of what Vale might become there.
In comparison, Vale smiled faintly to himself.
Something had clicked when the hat sorted him into Slytherin.
'So be it. Let them worry.'
This façade was easier to maintain. It felt… natural. In fact, having another mask beneath his first mask… seemed to make sense.
Even Snape agreed, judging from the man's smirk.
Vale was settling into his place at the Slytherin table, feeling the weight of dozens of calculating stares.
Unlike the boisterous welcome at the Gryffindor table or the warm hugs exchanged at Hufflepuff, Slytherins greeted their newcomers with measured nods and appraising glances.
A dark-haired girl shifted slightly to make room for him, neither friendly nor hostile—merely acknowledging his presence. The boy across from him extended a hand without smiling.
"Theodore Nott," he said simply.
Vale shook it, matching the boy's firm grip. "Vale Windrow."
No further conversation followed, but Vale understood. This was Slytherin's way — alliance formation required observation first, commitment later.
From further down the table, Vale felt eyes boring into him. He raised a brow.
Draco Malfoy sat surrounded by his entourage, pale face turned toward Vale with undisguised interest. Their eyes met across the table, and Vale held the gaze without flinching.
Draco's lips curled into something between a sneer and a smirk before he turned away, whispering something to Crabbe.
The challenge had been issued without a word spoken.
As the sorting continued, Vale watched each student with renewed interest. The Sorting Hat's decisions now seemed more significant, revealing patterns he hadn't noticed before.
The Ravenclaws possessed a certain stillness when they thought, while Gryffindors practically vibrated with restless energy. And his fellow Slytherins—they carried themselves with self-possession beyond their years.
'That damn Sorting Hat was right. Though stressful, this is my people,'
He belonged here.
When "Zabini, Blaise" became the final Slytherin, Dumbledore rose and the feast materialised before them. Vale ate methodically, savouring the richness of food he'd only read about while listening to the conversations around him.
"Did you see Potter? Scrawny thing, isn't he?"
"My father says this year will be different at Hogwarts. Important things happening."
"New blood looks interesting this year. That Windrow boy — anyone know his family?"
Vale felt the question directed at him without anyone actually addressing him. He continued eating, pretending not to hear.
Let them wonder.
Across the hall, Neville caught his eye briefly before looking away, discomfort plain on his face. Hannah was deep in conversation with fellow Hufflepuffs, deliberately avoiding his direction.
Vale smiled faintly once again, clearly amused.
Their fear was understandable and oh-so adorable. Slytherin's reputation served him well—it provided distance, lowered expectations of warmth, and offered the perfect cover for his true nature.
On the contrary, he wasn't completely a Slytherin. The Sorting Hat had considered Ravenclaw as well, and he didn't disagree.
Maintaining this amusing dynamic with Neville and Hannah was a goal for future.
When Dumbledore stood for his closing remarks, Vale noticed the headmaster's gaze sweep across the hall, pausing fractionally on him before continuing.
A few of the more perceptive Slytherins raised their brows at this. Vale, however, looked unbothered.
He was excited for the days when all would be revealed. His Muggle-born identity would surely cause friction.
However, he already had plans for that. Human psychology wasn't an obstacle but a tool, after all..
Meanwhile, the Headmaster's speech itself was standard — warnings about the Forbidden Forest, banned items, and third-floor corridor — but Vale sensed the careful omissions beneath the words.
'Interesting…'
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