The Sorting
The Great Hall was alive with flickering candlelight, the enchanted ceiling mirroring the stormy sky outside. Golden plates gleamed under the warm glow of the torches, and the murmur of excited whispers filled the air as the first years stood in a tight cluster at the front of the hall. The Sorting Hat, ancient and weathered, sat atop a high stool, its frayed edges curling slightly as it prepared to make its judgments. Hyacinth was patiently waiting her turn.
"Black, Hyacinth."
Hyacinth inhaled sharply as her name was called. Keeping her posture poised, she walked toward the stool with careful, deliberate steps. She felt the weight of countless eyes on her—her sisters watching from the Slytherin table, the professors studying her with interest, and the pureblood families who expected her placement before the hat even touched her head.
As soon as the Sorting Hat was placed over her neatly curled dark hair, a voice filled her ears, soft but knowing.
"Ahh, another Black. Your mind is sharp, inquisitive… you’d do well in Ravenclaw, you know. A natural scholar with an appreciation for knowledge, tradition, and logic. You seek understanding, not just power."
Hyacinth swallowed. Ravenclaw? It was a sensible choice. But…
"And yet," the Hat mused, "you bloom under structure. Your potential is grand, but you need the right soil to take root. You desire control over your life, not to drift aimlessly in search of answers, but to shape them with precision. There is ambition in you, a drive that will take you far… no, no, you don’t simply seek knowledge. You seek influence, a legacy. You belong in—"
“SLYTHERIN!”
The table erupted into polite applause—nothing loud, but an affirmation of what everyone had already assumed. Another Black in Slytherin. Hyacinth barely had time to exhale before she slipped off the stool and made her way over to the long table adorned in silver and green. Andromeda, and Narcissa were all watching her as she approached. Hyacinth could almost envision Bellatrix’s smirk, eyes gleaming with approval even though Bellatrix was tucked away in Noctis Veil with her Dark artifact research. Narcissa reached out and gave Hyacinth’s hand a gentle squeeze as she slid onto the bench between them.
She had expected this result, of course. It was the way things were meant to be. Still, the Sorting Hat’s words lingered in the back of her mind.
“Black, Sirius.” Professor McGonagall calls out.
Hyacinth stiffened. She could feel her heart thumping against her ribs as Sirius sauntered up to the stool, a confident smirk on his lips. But she saw it—the flicker of hesitation as the Sorting Hat was placed over his unruly black hair.
The Sorting Hat took its time. From where she sat, Hyacinth gripped the edge of the Slytherin table. The Hall was quieter now, expectant.
Then—
“GRYFFINDOR!”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Hyacinth’s breath caught in her throat. Next to her, Narcissa and Andromeda looked just as stunned as she felt, their wide eyes locked onto hers in disbelief. The Gryffindor table hesitated, as if processing what had just happened, before breaking into a round of applause—hesitant at first, then stronger, filled with excitement from those who didn’t quite understand the magnitude of what had just happened.
Another Black… but in Gryffindor.
Sirius slid off the stool, his usual confidence momentarily replaced by something unreadable as he walked toward the roaring red-and-gold table. Hyacinth watched him go, her fingers still curled tightly around the table’s edge.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
A few older Slytherins let out a sharp exhale, eyes narrowing. Andromeda and Narcissa said nothing, still frozen. Hyacinth felt something uneasy settle in her stomach. She had never once considered the possibility that Sirius could be anywhere but beside her.
The sorting continued, but she barely heard the names that followed.
“Lupin, Remus.”
The quiet boy they had met on the train stepped forward. The hat barely took a moment before declaring, “GRYFFINDOR!” and Remus hurried off to join the table where Sirius had just sat down.
“Pettigrew, Peter.” Another Gryffindor.
“Potter, James.”
Hyacinth already knew what was coming before the hat even opened its mouth.
“GRYFFINDOR!”
Loud cheers erupted from the Gryffindor table. James grinned broadly as he strode over, immediately clapping Sirius on the back as if this had been the most obvious thing in the world.
And suddenly, Hyacinth felt a little bit of relief. At least Sirius wouldn’t be alone.