Cold wind whipped across the Black Lake, stinging Ellie Potter’s cheeks and tossing her wild red curls into her eyes.
She yanked her collar up, trying to block out the damp chill of the Scottish Highlands.
Beside her, Harry stared up at the towering castle with wide, awe-struck eyes.
Everyone looked at him.
They always looked at him.
Even in the dim lantern light of the small boats, the whispers had already started.
"Is that him? Is that Harry Potter?"
Nobody asked about the girl with the fiery hair sitting right next to him.
A deep resentment flared in her chest that the twin sister who had survived the exact same night was invisible.
Her chest tightened.
She squeezed her fists inside her pockets, the fabric of her secondhand robes rough against her knuckles.
"Unbelievable, isn't it?" Ron Weasley whispered from her left, his teeth chattering.
His pale face was smudged with dirt, and his oversized hand trembled on the edge of the boat.
"It's just a school," Ellie muttered, her voice sharper than she intended.
"Don't let the big rocks fool you, Ron."
Harry glanced at her, a silent plea for peace in his green eyes.
Deep down, she loved her brother, but the invisible shadow he cast was suffocating.
---
Step by step, the first years marched up the massive stone steps of the castle.
Warmth spilled from the oak front doors, but it did nothing to melt the cold knot in Ellie's stomach.
Students crowded the entrance hall, a sea of black robes and nervous chatter.
She kept close to Ron, whose ginger hair made him easy to spot in the press of bodies.
"Look at them all," Ron mumbled, his eyes darying to the grand staircase.
"My brothers said we have to fight a troll to get sorted."
"Fred and George are pulling your leg," Ellie said, shoving her hands back into her pockets.
"If there's a troll, I'll just hit it with a stick. Or my fist."
A soft chuckle sounded from behind them.
Ellie turned her head to see a boy with sandy hair and a crooked, amused grin watching her.
He wore a slightly rumpled set of robes and had a smudge of soot on his cheek.
"I'd pay to see that," the boy said, his Irish accent thick and warm.
"I'm Seamus. Seamus Finnigan."
"Ellie," she replied, a sudden heat rising to her face that had nothing to do with the castle's torches.
"And this is Ron."
"Nice to meet you," Seamus said, his eyes lingering on her face for a second longer than necessary.
Never before had someone looked at her without searching for a scar on her forehead.
Instead, his bright blue eyes focused entirely on her face.
---
Suddenly, the crowd parted as a stern-looking witch in emerald-green robes stepped forward.
Professor McGonagall held a scroll in her hand, her sharp eyes scanning the anxious faces of the first years.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said, her voice cutting through the noise like a silver blade.
"Our start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses."
She explained the house system, but Ellie's mind drifted.
She could feel the weight of a dozen stares shifting toward Harry.
They were already sizing him up, predicting his greatness.
What would they say about her?
Would she just be the extra Potter?
A mere spare?
Her jaw clenched so hard her teeth ached.
She wouldn't let them dismiss me.
Determined to make her own mark here, she would burn the place down if she had to.
"So, it's true then," a cold, drawling voice echoed through the hall.
"What they were saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."
A pale boy with slicked-back platinum hair stepped out of the crowd.
Both of the thugs behind him stood like gargoyles, their arms crossed.
"And you must be Weasley," the pale boy sneered, his eyes dropping to Ron's frayed cuffs and patched robes.
"My father told me about your family. All those children, and not a galleon to spare."
Ron's face flushed a deep, violent red.
He shrank back, his shoulders slumping under the weight of the cruel words.
Rage exploded in Ellie's chest like a kicked cauldron.
Her vision tunneled, focusing entirely on the smirk plastered across the pale boy's face.
Before Harry could step forward, before Ron could even blink, she moved.
She lunged across the flagstones.
Her fingers caught the collar of the pale boy's robes, twisting the expensive fabric into her fist.
With a hard, desperate heave, she slammed him backward.
His spine hit a massive stone pillar with a dull thud.
"Say another word about him," Ellie snarled, leaning in until they were nose-to-nose.
"Go on. Say it. I dare you."
His pale gray eyes widened in sheer shock, his smirk instantly evaporating.
Both of the thugs behind him froze, completely unsure of how to handle a girl with wild red hair and a murderous expression.
"Let go of me, you mad girl!" the boy choked out, his voice cracking.
"Do you know who my father is?"
Her grip tightened as she added, "I don't care if your father is the Minister himself. If you open your mouth again, I'll make sure you can't close it."
"Miss Potter!"
A sharp, horrified voice shattered the silence of the hall.
Professor McGonagall stood a few feet away, her mouth drawn into a thin, pale line of absolute fury.
Her eyes practically burned through her square spectacles.
Slowly, reluctantly, Ellie let go of his robes.
Malfoy stumbled forward, coughing and clutching his throat as he scrambled back to his friends.
"She's mental," he muttered, though he made sure to stay well out of her reach.
"Physical violence is strictly prohibited at Hogwarts," McGonagall said, her voice trembling with suppressed anger.
"Five minutes inside the castle, Miss Potter, and you are already causing a riot."
Ellie lifted her chin, refusing to look down, refusing to show a shred of regret.
"He was insulting Ron, Professor."
"That does not justify assault," she snapped, though her eyes softened for a fraction of a second before turning back into flint.
"We will discuss your punishment after the sorting. Follow me."
Ellie took a deep breath, trying to force her racing heart to slow down.
Her hands were still shaking from the adrenaline.
As they turned to walk into the Great Hall, she caught sight of Seamus Finnigan.
He was staring at her, a wide, thoroughly impressed grin stretching across his face.
With a quick, subtle movement, he flashed a thumbs-up.
A strange, warm spark ignited in her chest, replacing the cold anger.
Someone, at least, appreciated a good fight.
---
Gold plates gleamed under thousands of floating candles in the Great Hall.
Overhead, the ceiling was a perfect replica of the night sky, dark and dusted with stars.
Yet, Ellie couldn't focus on the magic.
Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped snitch.
They stood in a long line at the front of the hall, facing the four long house tables.
Hundreds of students watched them, whispering and pointing.
"Potter," she heard someone whisper.
"Did you see what she did to Malfoy?" another whispered back.
Good.
Let them know she wasn't someone to be messed with.
She wasn't just Harry's quiet sister.
Professor McGonagall placed a four-legged stool in front of the staff table.
On top of it sat an old, patched, dirty wizard's hat.
A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and it began to sing.
Ellie barely heard the song.
Her focus was split between the impending judgment and the sandy-haired boy standing a few feet down the line.
Seamus was watching the hat with a mix of excitement and nerves.
He caught her looking and winked.
She quickly looked away, her cheeks burning hotter than ever.
"Abbott, Hannah!" McGonagall called out.
A pink-faced girl stumbled out of line and put on the hat.
Silence stretched for a heartbeat before the hat yelled:
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
Names kept echoing through the hall.
"Finnigan, Seamus!"
Ellie's breath hitched as Seamus stepped up to the stool.
He sat down, and the hat slid over his eyes.
It took only a few seconds.
"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted.
Gryffindor's table erupted into deafening cheers.
Seamus grinned broadly, tossing the hat back to McGonagall and jogging over to his new housemates.
He looked back at the line, his eyes searching until they locked onto hers.
Gesturing toward the empty bench, he pointed to a seat beside him.
Her chest tightened with a sudden, desperate hope.
Desperate to sit there, she prayed to be in Gryffindor, the house of the brave.
She wanted to sit by the boy who saw her for her, not for her name.
"Malfoy, Draco!"
With an arrogant swagger, the pale boy stepped forward.
Barely touching his head, the hat screamed:
"SLYTHERIN!"
He smirked, glaring back at me with a look of pure malice as he joined the green-and-silver table.
Ellie bared her teeth at him in response.
"Potter, Emily!"
Silence fell over the Great Hall.
It was a heavy, suffocating silence that made her skin crawl.
Every eye in the room locked onto her.
She could feel Harry's gaze on her back, full of worry.
Step by step, she walked up to the stool.
Cold wood bit through her robes as she sat down.
Professor McGonagall picked up the dirty hat, her expression unreadable.
As the sorting hat descends upon her head, it whispers a single, chilling word, a name lost to history, before roaring 'GRYFFINDOR!', leaving Ellie with a sense of unease that something unseen is already pulling at her.