1st September 1991
Bondrewd stepped from the boat with a gentleman's grace, extending his hand to help the nearest students onto the dock. His elegant smile and striking presence drew second glances—even from those too young to know why.
Leather soles tapped against stone, cloaks rustled as the cluster of first-years followed the towering half-giant up a winding path and toward a stairwell that seemed to ascend forever.
And then—they saw it.
Hogwarts.
It rose from the mountainside like something etched from legend, perched high above inky waters that mirrored the stars above. Light shimmered from windows scattered across its mighty walls, casting golden reflections over the mist that coiled around its turrets. Spires and battlements twisted upward like the fingers of some ancient sentinel, a bastion of knowledge silhouetted against the darkened sky.
Bondrewd stared with silent reverence, unable to help the slight curl of wonder at the edge of his lips.
The procession came to a halt before two immense oak doors. With a glance over the gathered children, Hagrid raised his fist and knocked thrice.
The sound was deep and sonorous, reverberating like the call of something greater. The door creaked open—slowly, surely—revealing a tall witch in rich emerald robes. Her face was etched with age, but her bearing was sharp, controlled, and unmistakably authoritative.
"That must be McGonagall," Bondrewd noted quietly, already stepping in line near Draco.
Without a word, the stern professor motioned them inside, sweeping toward a smaller chamber off the grand hall. The muffled hum of hundreds of student voices echoed distantly behind her, the din of the Great Hall.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she began crisply. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats, you will be sorted into your houses."
She paused to scan their young faces—some wide-eyed, some wary.
"While you're here, your house will be something like your family."
With a final glance at Ron's dirt-smudged nose and Neville's nervous fidgeting, she added, "I shall return when we are ready. In the meantime, I suggest you smarten yourselves up."
She turned on her heel and left, leaving a silence in her wake.
"How do you reckon they sort us?" one student whispered anxiously.
"Fred said it hurts, but I think he was joking," Ron offered, his tone not entirely confident.
Draco snorted with laughter.
Bondrewd, listening with a raised brow, remained unconvinced. Judging from the general air of excitement from the older students, the test—whatever it entailed—seemed devoid of cruelty. More a rite of passage than a trial.
A sudden scream snapped him from his thoughts.
Twelve translucent figures floated through the opposite wall—ghosts. They drifted with effortless grace, chatting amongst themselves.
"New students, I suppose," said a plump friar with a kindly smile. "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know."
Bondrewd's eyes lingered on the ghosts. They were so clearly dead—and yet so vividly present. Another mystery to file away.
Beside him, Draco muttered under his breath, "Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin," like an incantation.
Bondrewd nearly laughed. For all his bluster, even Draco was not immune to nerves.
Professor McGonagall returned moments later, her voice sharp and commanding: "Form a line. The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin."
Bondrewd fell into step behind Draco, his stride measured and calm.
If the castle had been awe-inspiring from afar, the Great Hall was a masterpiece in its own right. Thousands of floating candles hovered overhead, their flickering flames casting a warm glow over four long tables. Each shimmered with golden goblets and polished silverware, the clink and murmur of students rising in quiet waves.
Above them, the ceiling stretched into a velvety night sky—enchanted to reflect the real one outside.
"It's bewitched," whispered Hermione behind him. "I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."
Her voice was tinged with pride, but Bondrewd was already admiring the craftsmanship. The stars had always held his attention—they represented potential, ambition, things just out of reach.
At the front of the hall sat an ancient, frayed wizard's hat, perched atop a stool.
"So this is the test," Bondrewd murmured, watching with interest.
McGonagall unrolled a long scroll. "When I call your name, you will put on the Sorting Hat and be placed into your house," she explained. "Hannah Abbott!"
A shy blonde girl stepped forward, trembled as she placed the hat on her head.
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat bellowed.
Cheers erupted from the table on the far right, the Fat Friar waving enthusiastically.
One by one the names came and went.
"Terry Boot.""RAVENCLAW."
"Susan Bones.""HUFFLEPUFF."
Then—"Hermione Granger."
The bushy-haired girl all but sprinted to the stool, placing the hat atop her head with determination. She sat in silence, brow furrowing deeper with every second.
"Hmmm… tricky," the Sorting Hat murmured. "But yes… GRYFFINDOR!"
Bondrewd arched an eyebrow. Unexpected, though not illogical. Passion often masked itself as intellect.
He tucked her name away for future consideration.
"Draco Malfoy!"
Draco strode forward with smug self-assurance, the Sorting Hat barely touching his head before declaring:
"SLYTHERIN!"
Bondrewd smirked. Of course.
Then—"Bondrewd Lambeth."
Silence.
Even the students looked up now, intrigued by the unusual name.
He approached with poise, catching the eye of the white-bearded headmaster. Dumbledore offered a small wink.
Bondrewd inclined his head in return, then placed the hat upon his brow.
"Well, well," came a soft voice in his ear. "A curious one. Intelligent. Driven. Deep ambition—but not for power. For understanding. Rare indeed."
"I assume you can hear me," Bondrewd replied internally, his tone light.
"I can. Not many speak back. Interesting. You would do well in Slytherin…"
"I would thrive in Ravenclaw," Bondrewd responded calmly. "That is where I belong."
The hat paused. "A shame, perhaps… but also, perhaps not."
"RAVENCLAW!"
Applause rose from the second table. Bondrewd moved toward it with a smile, catching a confused glance from Draco. He responded with a subtle wink.
"Welcome to Ravenclaw! I'm Penelope Clearwater," said a polished girl with a prefect's badge and a bright smile.
"A pleasure. Please take care of me," Bondrewd replied, shaking her hand with effortless charm.
Then—"Harry Potter."
The room fell into a hushed awe.
Bondrewd watched as Harry sat, whispering under his breath—Not Slytherin, not Slytherin.
Curious.
His eyes flicked to Dumbledore, whose expression was unusually focused. The boy had the attention of the most powerful wizard alive.
"Gryffindor!" the hat finally cried, and thunderous applause followed.
As the last student was sorted, Professor McGonagall stepped back and Dumbledore rose, arms outstretched in welcome.
"Welcome back to Hogwarts! Let the feast begin! Enjoy this banquet prepared by our house-elves!"
The tables instantly filled with food—roast meats, steaming vegetables, bubbling gravies, and glistening puddings.
Bondrewd sat quietly as the hall filled with laughter and cheer, eyes rising once more to the enchanted ceiling.
Stars.
Ever distant. Ever silent.Not watching, but waiting to be understood.