As the hat dropped over her eyes, a small voice spoke into her ear.
"Hmm… very interesting," the Sorting Hat murmured. "That buried ambition, that hunger for power… classic Slytherin traits. Nearly every member of the Black family has gone there."
"But wait…" the Hat continued. "There's more here… oh! What's this?"
Vera felt the Sorting Hat give a faint tremor in her mind.
"What a rare combination… courage and loyalty, the ideal of changing your own fate, a fire hidden beneath that calm exterior… Gryffindor would have every reason to claim you as well."
The silence in the Great Hall was beginning to grow suffocating. Vera could feel hundreds of eyes fixed on her, and some had already begun whispering.
"I can see the struggle in your heart," the Hat went on. "Your resistance to family tradition, your search for your own path… it reminds me of another Black…"
The whispering in the Hall grew louder and louder. Vera could feel all those eyes still pinned to her.
"So then," the Sorting Hat suddenly asked, "what is your choice?"
Vera paused slightly. "I thought you were the one who decided."
"Usually, yes," the Hat admitted. "But your case is rather special, just like Miss Potter's and Miss Granger's before you. Tell me, young Black—what matters most to you?"
Vera's gaze drifted unconsciously past the brim of the Hat toward the Gryffindor table.
The adorable Savior was sitting there, tense and motionless, those green eyes fixed on her without blinking.
Ever since she had realized she had come to this world, Vera had been asking herself one question: as a transmigrator, what was most important?
Staying alive was certainly important…
But in her current condition, no matter what she did, it would already be a struggle upward.
Since she had come to a world of magic, she wanted to try.
"I think…" Vera lifted her chin, a faint smile flashing in her eyes as she looked toward Harri, "I want to go to the place where I can change my fate."
The Sorting Hat gave a soft chuckle. "Ah, changing fate… what a very Gryffindor answer. But are you truly certain? It would mean breaking the Black family tradition yet again."
Vera looked into those distant green eyes and raised her head.
"Traditions," she said, "exist to be broken."
"Excellent!" the Sorting Hat suddenly shouted, raising its voice for the whole Hall to hear. "GRYFFINDOR!"
For an instant, the entire Great Hall fell dead silent, every eye wide with disbelief.
Then, several seconds later, the cheers from the Gryffindor table erupted. Harri even sprang to her feet clapping, nearly knocking over a goblet in the process.
Vera tilted her head slightly. She could clearly feel the stunned stares coming from the Slytherin table—Draco Malfoy's expression of utter disbelief most of all.
Professor McGonagall also seemed visibly taken aback, but she recovered quickly, helped Vera remove the Hat, and said softly, "Welcome to Gryffindor."
Vera wheeled herself toward the Gryffindor table, able to feel eyes on her from every direction as she went.
By the time she reached it, Harri had already hurriedly made room for her.
"Vera! You're in Gryffindor too!" Harri was so excited she could barely get the words out. "We're in the same house! I knew it—I just knew—"
Hermione leaned over as well, helping smooth out Vera's hair where the Hat had flattened it. "The Sorting Hat took so long with you—what was it saying?"
Vera shook her head lightly. "Nothing important. Just a few trivial things."
Once the Sorting was over, a tall figure rose from the staff table. Professor Albus Dumbledore spread his arms wide, his silver-white beard gleaming in the candlelight.
"Welcome!" he said in a rich, warm voice. "Welcome to Hogwarts! Before we begin our feast, I have a few words to say—"
Vera's gaze passed over the crowd and settled on the Headmaster's bright blue eyes, sparkling with wisdom.
The greatest wizard of the age was smiling kindly at all of the students.
"Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" Dumbledore suddenly declared, then sat down again in obvious satisfaction.
The first-years stared at one another in bewilderment, while the older students, clearly used to this sort of thing, began applauding as if nothing were amiss.
Harri looked at Vera in confusion. "Is he… a little mad?"
Vera's lips curved slightly. "I suppose that's just his style."
The moment Dumbledore sat down, mountains of food appeared on the tables: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, sausages, Yorkshire puddings, every sort of vegetable, gravy…
And, for some bizarre reason, peppermint humbugs.
"That's incredible!" Hermione breathed, while Harri was already piling food enthusiastically onto her plate.
Vera noticed that Harri's plate was almost entirely meat, with barely a vegetable in sight.
She quietly pushed a bowl of salad toward her. "A balanced diet matters."
Harri gave an embarrassed smile and obediently added some vegetables to her plate.
When everyone had eaten their fill, the leftovers vanished in an instant, replaced by every sort of pudding, ice cream, pie, cake, and fruit.
Harri's eyes went round as saucers. "This is amazing! How do they make all this appear?"
Vera watched Harri wolfing down apple pie and gently nudged a plate of strawberry pudding toward her. "Slow down. No one's going to take it from you."
Harri awkwardly slowed down, cheeks puffed out because her mouth was full. "Sorry. I just… I've never had food this good before."
Hermione asked curiously, "Your relatives never let you have dessert?"
Harri's smile dimmed for a moment. "Dudley usually got double portions, and I… sometimes I didn't even get leftovers."
Vera's gaze fell to Harri's thin, bony wrists, and her eyes darkened slightly.
She changed the subject instead. "You can try a little of everything… as long as you can still manage it."
The feast continued in a bright atmosphere of laughter and conversation.
Vera noticed that at the staff table, one professor wrapped in a purple turban—Professor Quirrell—kept sneaking glances at Harri from time to time.
And every time his gaze swept in their direction, Nox, lying across Vera's shoulders, would bristle and let out a low growl.
"What's wrong with her?" Harri noticed Nox's strange behavior and asked with concern.
Vera gently stroked Nox's back. "It's nothing. She's probably just not used to this many people."
All around them, students were happily talking about their families. Harri didn't have much to contribute, so she simply lowered her head and ended up petting Nox together with Vera.
Then, in an unguarded instant when she happened to look up, she caught sight of the great mass of cloth wound around Quirrell's head.
For some reason, a sudden burning pain stabbed through the lightning-shaped scar on her forehead.
"Hss—!"
Harri clapped one hand over her brow.
Vera noticed the change immediately and turned toward her. "What's wrong?"
Harri pressed hard against the scar, her face turning abruptly pale. "My scar… it suddenly hurts…"
Vera's pupils contracted sharply. She shot a glance toward the staff table.
Quirrell had already turned away and was stammering something to Snape.
Quirrell—
No, not Quirrell.
The one hiding on the back of his head was Voldemort.
And he had just been looking at Harri.
.....
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