The night air buzzed with whispers and owls overhead as the first-year students stepped off the boats and onto the rocky shore before the towering silhouette of Hogwarts Castle. Caelum stood silent, a small figure in a dark hooded robe that swayed gently in the night breeze. His sharp eyes scanned the battlements above, aglow with torchlight. The lake lapped behind them, silent and deep.
"Firs' years! This way!" came the booming voice.
Caelum looked up to see a massive man holding a lantern, his wild beard and beetle-black eyes giving him the look of a mountain come alive. Rubeus Hagrid, the gamekeeper, loomed above them like a friendly giant.
"Come on, keep up! Mind yer feet, the steps are slippery!"
The group followed him into the castle. Despite himself, Caelum felt a faint tremor of anticipation in his chest. Not excitement. Something quieter. Like standing at the edge of something vast.
…
The Great Hall
Torchlight reflected off the long, enchanted ceiling—an open sky glittering with stars. Caelum's eyes adjusted quickly, avoiding the direct light. Candles floated above the four long tables filled with students. At the far end stood the staff table, with Albus Dumbledore seated at the center like a weathered king. The old man's eyes briefly met his. Not with judgment—but recognition.
The Sorting Hat sat on a stool before them. One by one, names were called, and students stepped forward to sit beneath it. The hat would pause, then call out its decision followed by cheers from each House, echoing across the hall.
When "Caelum Sanguine" was called, the hall grew noticeably quieter—especially now as he walked forward with his hood lowered, revealing his pale features and unnerving eyes.
He stepped forward, calm despite the weight of a thousand stares. The sorting hat was lowered over his head, and the voice whispered in his ear.
'Hmmm, Curious... very curious indeed. Power. Fire. So much fire... But where to place you? You are no follower, and yet you watch from the shadows. You do not crave power, yet you gather it anyway. Hmm... Slytherin would make something fierce of you...'
'Then make it Slytherin,' Caelum thought back, clear and cold. 'Let it be done.'
'As you wish.'
"Slytherin!" the Hat bellowed.
Polite claps rang out as Caelum moved toward the Slytherin table. A few students stared longer than others. He kept his eyes low, face unreadable, hands in his robes.
…
After the Feast
Once dinner faded and the hall returned to its echoing silence, Dumbledore led the students in the strange, jumbled Hogwarts School Song. Caelum only mouthed along. His voice felt caught in his throat.
Slytherin Prefects then led them through winding stone corridors, down into the dungeons. The air grew cooler. A blank wall opened with the password: "Salazar." The common room was half-submerged under the lake—dimly lit, elegant, green-toned. It smelled of stone, old parchment, and secrets. Whoever had designed it—Salazar Slytherin himself, perhaps—had possessed a distinctly refined taste.
They were then split into dormitories. Caelum found himself sharing with two others—Evran Thorne and Bastian Flint
The name Thorne lingered in his thoughts. Protocol Thorne—the same one twisted and abused by Greystone House—had originally been an initiative proposed in the 1800s by that very family. And now, a boy bearing the same name stood as Caelum's roommate.
But a name alone meant nothing.
And Caelum had no intention of judging him for it.
The same went for Bastian Flint. As part of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families, he came from a long and distinguished wizarding lineage. Many wore that status like a badge—something to elevate themselves above others.
Bastian didn't.
If anything, he was almost too open.
From Caelum the first interaction with his two roommates certainly was not…, unpleasant.
…
The Dormitory
Their room was tucked behind an arched doorway, furnished with three four-post beds, deep green curtains, and a single high window showing only black water outside.
Bastian flopped onto his bed with a groan. "Well. Not dead. That's a good start."
Evran raised an eyebrow while neatly arranging his books. "You expected to be?"
"Slytherin's reputation," Bastian muttered. "Dad said I'd get hexed before dessert. Thought someone might throw a jinx over the pudding."
Caelum sat silently on his bed, he already put his hood down ever since he was inside the castle. His eyes flicked between the two. The silence felt familiar. Not hostile.
"You didn't say much during Sorting," Evran remarked, glancing at him.
"Didn't feel like talking," Caelum replied softly.
Evran nodded. "Fair enough. Not everyone needs to fill the silence."
"I do," Bastian added cheerfully. "Filling silence is a survival tactic. It's a public service."
"You're a menace," Evran murmured, smirking slightly.
"I'm Caelum," he said finally, letting the name settle between them.
"We know," Bastian said, kicking off his boots. "You're famous. Or infamous. Depending on who you ask."
Evran didn't flinch at the name.
"I heard about what happened," he said quietly. "Dreadful things."
A brief pause.
"There were… rumors. My family's name came up in them."
His gaze lowered slightly, more thoughtful than probing.
"So I looked into it. Old newspapers. Archived records."
Another pause—then, more measured:
"I didn't mean to bring up something… personal."
"…It's fine," he said. "And your version?"
"I don't have one," Evran replied. "I prefer facts to rumors. If I ever need a version, I'll make my own."
They each turned to their beds. Bastian stretched out across his bed, already talking again—speculating about classes, professors, and everything he'd heard about Hogwarts, with occasional short respond from Evran. Caelum lay flat, staring at the ceiling. The room slowly fell quiet, save for the soft rush of lake water above.
The quiet that settled this time wasn't empty, it was shared, and for tonight, his first night at Hogwarts, that was enough.