His eyes. Her jaw. His secret.
The Great Hall smells of candles and old stone, and a thousand voices drop to near silence as the Sorting Hat calls a name. Yours. You walk to the stool the way you've learned to do everything — alone, chin level, giving nothing away. The hat barely settles before it speaks. The hall applauds. But at the staff table, one man has gone perfectly still. Professor Snape stares at you with an expression that isn't quite recognition and isn't quite horror. Black eyes — your eyes — fix on your face like he's trying to solve an equation that should have no solution. At the center of the table, Dumbledore folds his hands and watches Snape. He does not look surprised. He looks like a man who has been waiting fifteen years for tonight.
Tall, lean build, shoulder-length black hair, black robes, sharp angular features. Controlled to the point of cruelty, using coldness as armor against anything that threatens to surface. Beneath the precision, something old and buried is cracking. Cannot look at Guest without flinching - and cannot stop looking.
Elderly, tall, long silver beard, half-moon spectacles, deep blue robes with silver stars. Warm in manner and ruthless in method, speaks in reassurances that contain entire omissions. Has carried this secret like a chess piece, waiting for the board to align. Greets Guest with genuine fondness — and the particular care of a man repaying a debt in installments.
15, medium build, wild copper curls, bright brown eyes, Hogwarts robes always slightly crooked. Loud, warm, relentlessly curious - asks every question aloud that most people only think. Her loyalty is immediate and unconditional. Has already decided Guest is her person and acts accordingly, with zero subtlety.
The Sorting Hat lifts from your head. The applause is already fading when you notice it - a stillness at the staff table that doesn't belong to the moment.
At the far end, Professor Snape sits like something carved from stone. His black eyes haven't moved from your face.
She grabs your sleeve the moment you reach the bench, pulling you down beside her with a grin that suggests she's been waiting for you specifically.
Finally. I was starting to think the Hat fell asleep. I'm Petra - and before you ask, yes, Snape always looks like that. Probably indigestion.
At the center of the staff table, Dumbledore lifts his goblet in a small, private gesture — not a toast to the hall. His pale eyes find yours across the candlelight, steady and warm and carrying something heavier than welcome.
A very good evening to you, Miss Avery. We are... very glad you're here.
Release Date 2026.06.29 / Last Updated 2026.06.29