The boats rocked gently as they crossed the inky black lake, lanterns floating like stars above the water. Hallie sat near the front of her boat, tucked between Padma and Neville, as the first-years stared in awe at the towering silhouette of Hogwarts, its windows glittering like gold.
It was surreal.
Even knowing the world so well—through books, movies, memes, and now memories—it still felt unreal to see it with her own eyes. The smell of lakewater, the soft hush of voices, the way magic shimmered just beneath the surface of everything. It was more than fantasy. It was home.
"Do you think you'll be in Gryffindor?" Padma asked, brushing a wisp of hair behind her ear.
Hallie blinked. "Maybe. I like the idea of bravery. But I think Ravenclaw sounds kind of wonderful too. Or Hufflepuff. They all have their charm."
"Even Slytherin?" Neville whispered, eyes wide.
Hallie smiled gently. "Even Slytherin. A good house doesn't make a bad person—and a bad one doesn't mean someone's hopeless."
Padma nodded in agreement, clearly impressed. Neville looked at her like she'd just invented butterbeer.
It was happening again.
That charm. The way people looked at her, leaned in a little closer, relaxed in her presence. Hallie wasn't trying to use it. She just couldn't not. It was like her very soul had a gravitational pull.
And part of her liked it.
Inside the castle, the Great Hall burst into light and magic. Floating candles, ghostly shadows drifting along the ceiling, four long tables filled with curious faces. The Sorting Hat sat upon its stool, mouth wide in a smirk of ancient amusement.
One by one, names were called. Some students ran, others tiptoed. A few looked ready to faint.
When "Potter, Hallie" was called, the whispers turned to a wave.
"She looks just like her mum—"
"Is that the Potter girl?"
"She's prettier in person—"
"She's glowing—"
Hallie stepped forward with a calm grace that belied the fluttering in her chest. The hat was placed on her head.
Ah. Well, well. What do we have here?
She nearly jumped. The voice was silk and smoke in her ear.
So you're the one. Not quite what you seem, are you? A soul reborn. Layers upon layers... How fascinating. And that charm—I haven't felt anything like it in centuries. Not a Veela, not enchantment—something older. More dangerous.
She swallowed. "I'm not dangerous," she whispered in her mind.
No, not unless you choose to be. Now, what shall I do with you? Loyalty in spades. Wit like a dagger. A thirst for joy, not power, and bravery that's quiet but true. You, Miss Potter, are delightfully difficult.
A pause. The hat chuckled.
Well then. Let's put you where you'll truly shine.
"RAVENCLAW!"
Applause erupted, surprised but genuine. She slipped off the stool, cheeks flushed, and made her way to the Ravenclaw table, where Padma was already clapping and scooting over to make room.
As she sat down, a pair of older girls immediately leaned in to introduce themselves. A blond fourth-year called her "dreamy" and offered her a cookie.
Across the room, she saw Professor Flitwick beaming. McGonagall wore a look of interest. Even Professor Snape, who she hadn't expected to attend the ceremony, narrowed his eyes—not in hatred, but in suspicion.
Hallie sat a little straighter.
She didn't know what her presence here meant yet, or how far this strange gift of hers extended. But she did know one thing:
This wasn't Harry's story anymore.
It was hers.
And it wasn't about war or prophecy or defeating dark lords.
It was about discovery. About magic. About friendship, identity, and maybe even figuring out what it meant to be a girl—this girl—Hallie, in a world that already seemed to love her.
The feast began, and she joined in with laughter, warmth, and a growing sense of excitement.
Tomorrow, classes would begin.
But tonight, she belonged.