Once the sorting is over Dumbledore stands up and gives a speech. "Welcome, Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. The first years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember as well," he sends a pointed look to the Weasley twins, and they smile sheepishly before giving him mock offended looks.
"I have been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death. Let the feast begin, Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
Food and drinks appeared on the table, and everyone began to pick what they wanted to eat. After everyone filled their plates, every table began buzzing with excitement. Whispers fly like owls on caffeine.
Harry Potter sat at the Gryffindor table between Percy Weasley and Hermione Granger, still trying to process the whirlwind of the evening. The Sorting Hat’s decision still echoed faintly in his ears—Gryffindor!—and though relief had come swiftly, something else lingered in his thoughts.
Across the hall, beneath the green and silver banners of Slytherin, sat Mira Silverthorne.
Her silver-white hair gleamed almost luminously in the candlelight, pulled into a graceful bun secured by a hairpin shaped like intertwined branches, cradling a pale blue gem. Even from across the Hall, the pale blue stone cradled in the branches seemed to catch the light and hold it. Her posture was calm, composed. Draco Malfoy leaned slightly toward her as he spoke, satisfaction clear in his expression.
Harry didn’t know why he kept looking.
But he did.
Ron followed his gaze and lowered his voice. “Blimey. She didn’t hesitate at all, did she?”
Harry shook his head slowly. “No.”
Hermione leaned forward slightly. “She seemed very sure of herself.”
Percy, who had been buttering a roll with meticulous precision, glanced up.
“Of course she did,” he said matter-of-factly.
Harry blinked. “What do you mean?”
Percy arched an eyebrow. “You truly don’t know?”
Ron snorted. “Know what?”
Percy set his knife down carefully, folded his hands, and leaned in slightly.
“The Silverthornes.”
Hermione’s eyes sharpened instantly. “I’ve read the name before. Several times, actually. In Modern Magical Lineages of Britain and in Influential Families of the International Confederation.”
Ron’s mouth fell open. “You’ve read books about influential wizarding families?”
Hermione looked offended. “Of course I have.”
Harry glanced back toward Mira.
“What’s so special about them?” he asked.
Percy straightened a bit, slipping comfortably into the tone of someone delivering a lecture.
“The Silverthornes are one of the most influential wizarding families in Great Britain,” he began. “Possibly in all of Western Europe. Their influence spans Dark, Light, and Grey families alike.”
Ron frowned. “Grey families?”
“Families that operate outside strict ideological alignments,” Hermione supplied quickly. “Neutral factions. Political bridges.”
Percy nodded approvingly.
“Exactly. The Silverthornes have connections in all three spheres. They’re known for maintaining balance.”
Harry looked puzzled. “Balance how?”
Percy gestured slightly toward the Slytherin table.
“They are widely referred to as The Silverthorne Pair.”
Hermione leaned forward eagerly. “Who are they?”
“Alaric and Elarisse Silverthorne,” Percy said.
Ron blinked. “Her parents?”
“Yes,” Percy replied. “And they are… formidable.”
Harry shifted slightly. “Formidable how?”
Percy’s voice lowered a fraction.
“Alaric Silverthorne is a muggleborn.”
Ron’s eyebrows shot upward.
“A muggleborn?” he repeated.
“Yes,” Percy confirmed calmly. “Sorted into Slytherin.”
Ron nearly choked on his pumpkin juice. “Slytherin?”
Percy’s mouth twitched faintly.
“He earned his house’s respect in his first week,” Percy continued. “He stood in the Slytherin common room—without a wand—and declared, ‘Magic blood is magic blood — it flows the same in every heart, no matter the origin.’”
Hermione inhaled sharply.
Harry felt something stir in his chest.
Ron stared. “He said that? In Slytherin?”
“Yes,” Percy replied evenly. “And no one challenged him.”
“Why not?” Ron demanded.
“Because,” Percy said, “he was already one of the most magically gifted students of his year.”
Hermione whispered, almost reverently, “That must have taken extraordinary courage.”
Percy inclined his head.
“Alaric Silverthorne is known as the Silverthorne Serpent,” he said. “And the Silver Strategist.”
Harry frowned slightly. “Strategist?”
“He became both a Magizoologist and an Auror,” Percy explained. “He works for the International Confederation of Wizards and for MACUSA.”
Ron blinked again. “He works in America?”
“Yes,” Percy said. “He travels constantly.”
Hermione’s eyes shone. “Magizoologist… does he specialize in specific species?”
“All species,” Percy replied.
“All?” Hermione repeated.
“Dragons. Thestrals. Basilisks. Zouwu. Demiguises. Nundus. Anything classified magical, mythical or dangerous.”
Ron looked overwhelmed. “That’s mad.”
Harry leaned forward. “What’s a Zouwu?”
Percy’s lips curved slightly.
“A massive feline creature native to China. Extremely powerful. Highly intelligent.”
Hermione’s eyes widened. “He owns one?”
“He does,” Percy said. “A male Zouwu named Zirael.”
Ron’s jaw dropped. “He owns a Zouwu?”
“He doesn’t own him,” Percy corrected gently. “They are partners.”
Harry felt a strange tightening in his chest again.
“And his wife?” Hermione prompted.
“Elarisse Silverthorne,” Percy continued, “is from one of the oldest pureblood lines in Britain. Sorted into Ravenclaw.”
Ron blinked. “So they weren’t even in the same house?”
“No,” Percy said. “But they were in the same year.”
Hermione smiled faintly. “That sounds poetic.”
Percy continued smoothly.
“She is an alchemist. One of the leading researchers in Britain for healing potions and advanced elixirs.”
Hermione’s expression went from admiration to awe.
“She works as an Auror as well,” Percy added. “Also with the ICW and MACUSA.”
Ron shook his head. “Both of them?”
“Yes.”
“And her nickname?” Hermione asked eagerly.
“The Silver Alchemist,” Percy said. “And the Mistress of Renewal.”
Harry glanced again at Mira across the Hall.
“She doesn’t look intimidating,” he murmured.
Percy gave him a knowing look.
“Neither do phoenixes,” he said quietly.
Hermione leaned forward. “Phoenixes?”
“Elarisse’s familiar,” Percy explained. “A blue phoenix named Aeris.”
Hermione nearly vibrated in her seat. “Blue?”
“Yes,” Percy confirmed. “Aeris possesses unique abilities.”
“Such as?” Ron asked skeptically.
“Healing flame,” Percy said calmly. “Soul memory. Purification.”
The table fell silent.
Harry blinked. “Soul memory?”
“Aeris can access fragments of emotional and magical memory through flame contact,” Percy explained. “She has aided in identifying cursed artifacts and corrupted enchantments.”
Hermione whispered, “Incredible…”
Ron looked at Harry. “And they’re friends with Malfoy’s parents?”
Percy nodded.
“Alaric, Lucius, and Narcissa were classmates,” he said. “Lucius and Narcissa both hold Alaric in high regard.”
Ron stared at him.
“Lucius Malfoy respects a muggleborn?”
Percy met his gaze evenly.
“Yes.”
Ron looked stunned.
Hermione’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. “That suggests immense personal authority.”
“It does,” Percy agreed.
“And Narcissa?” Hermione asked.
“Narcissa and Elarisse were classmates as well,” Percy said. “Different houses. Mutual respect.”
Harry absorbed all of it slowly.
“They must be powerful,” he murmured.
“They are,” Percy replied. “But that isn’t what makes them remarkable.”
Harry looked at him.
Percy’s expression softened slightly.
“They adopt children.”
Ron blinked. “What?”
“Children of all blood statuses,” Percy clarified. “Abandoned. Orphaned. Rejected.”
Hermione’s voice lowered. “Without regard for lineage?”
“Without regard for lineage,” Percy confirmed.
Harry felt something twist inside him.
“They’re known for it,” Percy continued. “They operate several Magical Creature Reserves and rehabilitation centers across Britain. They also fund alchemy research laboratories nationwide.”
Ron shook his head slowly. “That’s… that’s a lot.”
Percy nodded.
“They believe in restoration.”
Hermione’s eyes shifted toward the Slytherin table.
“Mira’s hair,” she said quietly. “It’s silver-white.”
Percy followed her gaze.
“That,” he said, “is proof of blood adoption.”
Ron frowned. “Blood adoption?”
Hermione inhaled sharply.
“It’s an ancient ritual,” she said. “Rare. Powerful.”
Percy nodded.
“When a child is blood adopted by the Silverthornes, the magic binds fully,” he explained. “The child inherits their hair and eye coloring.”
Harry felt his heart stutter faintly.
“So… she wasn’t born with silver hair?” Ron asked.
“No,” Percy said. “It is the mark of belonging.”
Hermione whispered, “That’s beautiful.”
Percy inclined his head.
“Isolde Silverthorne, one of their adopted daughters, is in Ravenclaw,” he added. “Fifth year. Half-veela. Blonde hair fading to silver at the ends. Emerald eyes.”
Ron blinked.
“Half-veela?”
“Yes.”
“She’s brilliant,” Percy continued. “Talented in Herbology, Potions, Alchemy, and Elixirs.”
Hermione looked determined. “I’d like to meet her.”
Percy continued calmly.
“Nyx Silverthorne is a vampire hybrid. Final year at Mahoutokoro. Master of stealth and shadow magic.”
Ron’s fork froze mid-air.
“Vampire hybrid?”
“Yes.”
“Korrin Silverthorne,” Percy went on, “a werewolf. Durmstrang graduate. Currently serving as an Auror in Magical Law Enforcement.”
Hermione nodded slowly. “Integration and reform.”
“Precisely,” Percy said, "There's also Caelum Silverthorne."
“Caelum?” Harry asked quietly.
“Half-giant,” Percy replied. “Graduate of Uagadou. He oversees one of the Silverthorne Magical Fauna Reserves in Madagascar. Head caretaker and protector.”
Ron leaned back heavily.
“That’s… that’s mad.”
“No,” Hermione said softly. “It’s remarkable.”
Percy folded his hands again.
“There were rumors,” he added thoughtfully, “that Mira herself was blood adopted after being found as an infant.”
Harry’s breath caught slightly.
“Found?” he repeated.
Percy nodded.
“Nothing confirmed, of course.”
Harry glanced back toward Mira.
She was laughing softly at something Blaise had said. Draco leaned close, clearly pleased she had joined Slytherin.
She did not look lost.
She did not look uncertain.
She looked… at home.
Ron shook his head slowly.
“And they’re friends with Professor Snape too?”
Percy nodded.
“Snape was a classmate of Elarisse and Alaric. And Lily Potter.”
Harry stiffened slightly at his mother’s name.
“They remained friends,” Percy continued. “Despite house divisions.”
Hermione glanced at Harry carefully.
Harry forced a neutral expression.
Across the Hall, Mira lifted her goblet.
For a brief moment—
Their eyes met again.
Harry didn’t know why his chest felt tight.
He didn’t know why something about her felt familiar.
He didn’t know why.
He only knew—
That beneath the green and silver banners, beneath centuries of reputation and whispered judgment, sat a girl who had chosen Slytherin.
And according to Percy—
She had been raised by two of the most powerful, compassionate, influential figures in the Wizarding World.
The Silverthorne Pair.
Alaric—the Silverthorne Serpent.
Elarisse—the Mistress of Renewal.
Adopters of every blood.
Bridgers of every faction.
Guardians of creatures and children alike.
Harry turned slowly back toward his plate.
He didn’t know why his chest felt warm and unsettled all at once.
He didn’t know why the silver in her hair seemed to glow a little brighter in the candlelight.
He didn’t know that Mira Silverthorne had once been named Violet Potter.
He didn’t know that his parents still carried a quiet, invisible absence they could never quite explain.
He didn’t know.
But something inside him stirred anyway.
Across the hall, Mira tilted her head slightly as though sensing something.
Then she smiled faintly—
And turned back to her friends.
The feast continued.
The candles burned steady.
And beneath the ancient roof of Hogwarts, threads of silver and scarlet wove silently toward a future neither sibling yet understood.
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and then Add to home screen.