Soon, the train came to a stop. Outside the window, the landscape had shifted, mountains loomed in the distance, and thick trees framed the station like guardians. The air felt crisper, charged with something new.
At the end of the platform stood the largest man Aster had ever seen, waving a lantern with one hand and gesturing broadly with the other.
"Firs' years, this way! All firs' years over here!" the man called out in a booming voice.
Aster noticed the older students heading in the opposite direction, climbing into horseless carriages. Each carriage left a strange, deliberate space between them, as if something unseen pulled them forward. But before he could wonder more, Harry darted toward the giant man with a wide grin on his face.
"Hagrid!" Harry called.
The man, Hagrid, beamed and clapped Harry on the shoulder with a hand the size of a small boulder. "Harry! Good ter see yeh, really good. Look at yeh!"
The rest of the group hurried to catch up.
Harry turned back to introduce everyone. "This is Aster, he's my adopted brother," he said, then hesitated when he looked toward Hermione. "And this is his…?"
He trailed off, unsure. Aster lived with her. They weren't siblings. What were they?
Aster caught the pause, stepping in smoothly. "Friend," he said with a small, knowing smile. Then, with a brief glance at Hermione, he added, "For now."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, but didn't protest.
He let a beat pass, then shrugged. "Though I am her motivation."
Hermione rolled her eyes, muttering, "In your dreams," before following the way Hagrid had pointed to earlier.
Aster just smiled, content.
Hagrid called out over the chatter, "Don' worry about yer bags—they'll be sent ahead to your houses."
Aster nodded, barely listening. His eyes had already found Hermione.
She was seated near the slope that led down to the lake, her arms crossed, her expression still a little stormy.
He walked over and settled beside her without a word. For a moment, they just listened to the lapping water.
"I didn't lie," Aster said quietly, his tone matter-of-fact. "You are my friend. And… You're also my motivation."
Hermione didn't look at him, but the corner of her mouth twitched.
They eventually joined the rest of the first years as boats were prepared to cross the lake. The water was dark, almost mirror-like, disturbed only by the gentle push of the boats gliding across. In the distance, towering above the cliffs, Hogwarts stood. Its turrets were lit with warm light, windows glowing like stars.
Once on the other side, Aster stared up at the massive, winding staircase leading into the castle. It looked like something out of a dream, beautiful, ancient, and mildly threatening.
Then he turned to Hermione with a smirk. "So… do you want help, princess?"
Hermione shot him a sharp look but couldn't hide the smile tugging at her lips. "Try that again and I'm hexing you first year or not."
"Noted," Aster said, offering her his hand anyway.
And she took it.
Aster glanced behind him and let out a small breath. "So that's why they send our bags ahead of time…"
The stone staircase stretched endlessly upward, winding toward the massive castle doors. Hermione was beside him, mostly unfazed; she had followed him on his runs often enough, but even she was breathing heavier than usual.
A few steps below, Harry was clearly struggling. All that candy wasn't doing him any favors now.
"Harry," Aster called over his shoulder, "do you need help?"
Harry didn't respond, too focused on dragging himself upward. Ron, red-faced and panting beside him, raised a brow and asked, "Help how?"
Aster didn't answer with words. He simply pulled out his wand, aimed it subtly, and said, "Levioso."
Both Harry and Ron suddenly floated a few inches off the ground, weightless and startled.
"Whoa!" Ron yelped, arms flailing slightly.
"Relax," Aster said, guiding their floating forms upward at a gentle pace. "You're lighter than you look."
Hermione turned sharply to look at him, clearly tempted. Her steps slowed.
He caught the glance but said nothing, just raised an eyebrow in challenge.
She huffed and kept climbing, cheeks pink. She would never ask.
Not out loud, anyway.
They finally reached the top of the staircase, and before them stood a stern-looking woman in deep green robes, with sharp eyes that missed little.
Professor McGonagall.
She narrowed her gaze as Aster floated Ron and Harry to the landing, the three of them noticeably distant from the rest of the students still struggling up the stairs.
Recognition flickered in her eyes.
The red-haired boy, unmistakably a Weasley.
The dark-haired one beside him, messy hair, glasses, and the scar. James Potter's son, no doubt.
And then… the boy holding the hand of a girl she didn't recognize. That boy, that face, it was like seeing Regulus Black reborn, though the red hair threw her for a moment.
Still, her expression remained composed.
"You four," she said crisply, her Scottish accent precise, "can wait just there." She motioned toward a heavy wooden door ahead of them.
Her tone made it clear: wait, but do not go in.
Hermione gave Aster's hand a light squeeze before letting go, her eyes darting toward the rest of the students still on their way.
After a few minutes, the rest of the students finally reached the top of the stairs.
The woman in green stepped forward and introduced herself in a firm voice. "I am Professor Minerva McGonagall. You will call me Professor McGonagall." Her tone allowed no room for mistakes.
They all replied together, "Yes, Professor McGonagall."
Then she left inside to prepare for something.
A murmur spread among the students, some whispering about what the Sorting might involve.
Ron leaned toward Hermione and Aster, his voice low but nervous. "I think there's some kind of test… Fred said it really hurts, but he's probably just messing with me. He always does that before school starts."
He swallowed hard and forced a shaky laugh. "Knowing him, it'll probably be something embarrassing, wrestling a troll or something stupid like that."
Nearby, a blond boy followed by two others approached. He stepped forward confidently and said, "Hello, Harry Potter. I'm Draco Malfoy."
Draco's cold gaze swept the group around Harry, two red-haired boys he assumed were Weasleys, but one wore a brand-new uniform, so he guessed otherwise. And the girl, reading a book, seemed detached, even floating slightly. Probably a spell, or maybe the red-haired boy had done it.
"I wanted to meet you on the train but couldn't find you," Draco continued smoothly. "You'll soon learn that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to befriend the wrong sort. I can help you with that." He extended his hand.
Harry caught the rudeness in his tone and chose to ignore it.
Aster, however, didn't hesitate. He grasped Draco's hand firmly enough to cause discomfort and whispered into his ear, "I think it's a bad first impression to insult most of the people you're trying to join."
The boys flanking Draco were bigger, stronger, perhaps, but Aster could see right through them. Their strength was only physical, and even that didn't impress him. Draco himself was weak, laughably so. The others might offer a challenge in a scuffle, but not for long. Still, Aster knew better than to cause a scene here, on their first day. A fight now would only make things harder later.
He released Draco's hand without another word.
Then, calm and composed, he said, "I don't know how things work with the people you're used to, but around here, we introduce ourselves."
He gave a faint smile. "I'm Aster Evans Black. Harry's brother, not by blood, but that hardly matters."
Harry gave a quiet nod beside him, making the bond between them perfectly clear.
"And no," Aster added, gaze steady, "Harry wouldn't leave us for you."
Soon enough, Professor McGonagall returned, her emerald robes billowing slightly as she strode back into the corridor. Without much ceremony, she turned to the group and said crisply, "Follow me."
The first-years shuffled behind her in a nervous line. The hallway grew wider, and then they reached the great double doors.
With a wave of McGonagall's hand, the massive doors creaked open.
What lay beyond took their breath away.
The Great Hall was vast, far larger than any building most of them had ever entered. Hundreds of floating candles drifted serenely in the air, casting warm golden light over four long house tables. Above them, the ceiling shimmered with a perfect reflection of the night sky, velvet black, scattered with stars.
"Wicked…" Ron breathed, his eyes wide.
Hermione, already launching into a detailed explanation, said, "It's not real, of course. The ceiling is enchanted to look like the sky outside. I read all about it in Hogwarts: A Hist—"
"Mione," Aster interrupted gently but firmly, giving her a sideways glance. "Not now."
She frowned, then clamped her mouth shut, cheeks a little pink.
McGonagall led them toward the front of the hall where an old wooden stool sat alone, a tattered, ancient-looking hat perched on top. It twitched slightly, like something alive, and several students leaned back instinctively.
"This is the Sorting Hat," McGonagall announced. "When I call your name, you will sit on the stool and the hat will sort you into your house."
Ron leaned over to Aster and Hermione, whispering nervously, "Fred and George messed me up," said Ron furiously. "Told me I'd have to wrestle a troll."
Harry just smiled, clearly amused but trying not to laugh out loud.
Hermione raised an eyebrow over and said dryly, "Do you want to fight a troll, then?"
Ron looked horrified at the suggestion and shook his head quickly. "Not unless I can run the other way first."
Professor McGonagall unrolled a long scroll and raised her voice above the quiet murmurs of the Great Hall.
Then Minerva said, "Hannah Abbott."
A pale, round-faced girl with flyaway blonde hair nervously stood from the line. Her blue eyes darted toward the ceiling, enchanted with a starry night sky, then back to the Sorting Hat with clear apprehension. Her robes were slightly too big for her, and she clutched the hem as if for comfort. She walked hesitantly toward the stool, casting a brief, hopeful glance at the Hufflepuff table.
Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on her head. After only a moment's pause, the Hat bellowed,
"Hufflepuff!"
Relieved, Hannah slid off the stool and hurried to the cheering Hufflepuff table.
"Susan Bones."
A sturdy girl with warm brown eyes and a firm expression stepped forward confidently. Her ginger hair was tied back in a neat plait, and she carried herself with a quiet dignity. There was something solid and dependable about her, like someone who already understood the value of loyalty and fairness. She barely flinched as the Sorting Hat was lowered onto her head.
"Hufflepuff!" it called after a thoughtful pause.
Susan gave a small, proud nod and walked briskly to join Hannah.
"Terry Boot."
A lanky boy with tousled dark hair and sharp cheekbones approached next. His eyes, a piercing grey, flicked around the room with curiosity, absorbing every detail like a sponge. He looked more intrigued than nervous, already speculating about magical theory, no doubt. His shoes squeaked faintly on the stone floor, and he adjusted his glasses just as the Sorting Hat touched his head.
"Ravenclaw!" it announced promptly.
Terry grinned and headed toward the blue and bronze table, his stride quick and eager.
"Lavender Brown."
A girl with bouncing, honey-brown curls and wide, eager eyes practically skipped forward when her name was called. Her robes were perfectly pressed, and she waved daintily at someone in the line behind her. Though she tried to appear calm, her flushed cheeks betrayed her excitement. When the Hat was placed on her head, it wiggled slightly from the energy she radiated.
"Gryffindor!" it proclaimed.
Lavender squealed and clapped her hands before hurrying to her new house, glowing with pride.
"Millicent Bulstrode."
A tall, broad-shouldered girl strode toward the stool with a scowl on her face. Her hair was dark and scraped back tightly, and there was a toughness to her that dared anyone to laugh. She walked like she belonged in a duel, not a classroom, and crossed her arms until the hat was on her head.
After a longer silence than most, the Sorting Hat said,
"Slytherin!" with something that might have been a smirk in its voice.
Millicent gave a short nod and trudged toward the green and silver table, where she was welcomed with quiet approval.
Then McGonagall paused. Her eyes flicked briefly to Aster, her expression unreadable, and then she read aloud, slowly, carefully—
"Aster Evans Black."
A hush fell over the Great Hall.
The name Black seemed to echo off the stone walls, carrying more weight than the others. Whispers broke out instantly, Black, as in that Black family? Another one? Is he related to Sirius Black? Or Regulus?
Aster stepped forward calmly, the ebony wand at his side and gloved hands steady. He met the Sorting Hat without hesitation and sat on the stool.
Professor McGonagall, still composed, held the Sorting Hat high, then gently lowered it onto his head.
And the world went quiet.
The Sorting Hat stopped for a long moment as it settled on Aster's head.
A hush fell over the Great Hall.
Its voice, deep and measured, echoed only in Aster's mind.
"I see ambition. A mind sharp and cunning, not unlike one I have known before... Shadows linger around you, and a heavy burden you carry, a locket close to your heart, whispering secrets and temptations. It does not control you... Not yet. But it pulls, daily."
The Hat's tone grew curious, almost gentle.
"You have pride, yes. Tempered by a wary caution. You crave mastery over yourself and the world, but also freedom from chains, both magical and personal."
It paused, then asked softly,
"Which house would you prefer, young one? The brave Gryffindor, who charges headlong into battle? The creative Ravenclaw, who seeks wisdom and understanding? The loyal Hufflepuff, who values heart and endurance? Or the proud, resourceful Slytherin, where ambition and subtlety reign?"
Aster's thoughts swirled, uncertainty flickering behind his calm gaze. Finally, his voice, quiet and steady, answered, "Any is fine."
The Sorting Hat seemed to consider this carefully, its ancient voice softer now.
"Ah, yes. The indifferent heart... But indifference is a choice itself."
A moment later, the Hat spoke again with finality. "Slytherin!" Aster stood and walked to the Slytherin table, the locket resting like a quiet weight against his chest.
Whispers rippled through the hall, but Aster's expression gave nothing away, only the faintest shadow of a knowing smile.