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Legacy of the Last Peverell

Updates: 2-3 chapters a day excluding weekends In a world where the Peverell name has been forgotten and their legendary magic is thought to be extinct, a lone heir rises from the shadows to reclaim his family's powerful legacy. Damian Peverell, the last scion of the ancient and illustrious Peverell line, was orphaned at a young age and raised in solitude within the haunting grandeur of Peverell Castle. Surrounded by house elves who serve him with unwavering loyalty, and mentored by none other than Death himself—known to him as Mortem—Damian's childhood is anything but ordinary. Gifted with prodigious magical talent, an eidetic memory, and a natural mastery of Occlumency and Legilimency, Damian learns the deepest secrets of his family's ancient magic, long before most children even begin their magical education. From the moment he is chosen as the Master of Death, the three Deathly Hallows become his to wield, binding him to a destiny far greater than he could ever imagine. Underneath Peverell Castle lies Azaroth, a dragon of unimaginable power, who grants Damian a drop of his blood, endowing him with extraordinary abilities and a connection to dragonkind. At the age of five, Damian's familiar, Azreal—a rare and majestic black dragon with golden accents—hatches and bonds with him, becoming his lifelong companion. As Damian prepares to step into the world of Hogwarts, three years before the arrival of Harry Potter, he is armed with knowledge, power, and a heritage that could reshape the wizarding world. But with Dumbledore's manipulations lurking in the shadows, and the world unaware of the true power that the Peverell line still holds, Damian must navigate a dangerous path where allies are few, and enemies abound. "Legacy of the Last Peverell" is a tale of ancient magic, powerful legacies, and a young wizard's journey to claim his rightful place in a world that has long forgotten his name. Prepare to be captivated by a story that blends myth and mystery, as Damian Peverell sets out to fulfill his destiny as the Master of Death. Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. The characters, settings, and other elements from the Harry Potter universe belong to J.K. Rowling and associated entities. The fanfiction "Legacy of the Last Peverell" is created purely for entertainment purposes, with no intention of infringing on any copyrights or trademarks.

Yash_destroyer_007 · 作品衍生
分數不夠
37 Chs

Chapter 27: The Sorting

The air was cool and crisp as the Hogwarts Express rolled to a stop at Hogsmeade Station, the last light of the day fading into the horizon. Damian stepped off the train, his friends close behind, and immediately felt the pulse of ancient magic in the air—a powerful, subtle hum that seemed to echo through the very stones of the castle towering in the distance.

"First years! First years, this way!" a booming voice called out. Damian turned to see a giant of a man with a wild beard, his eyes twinkling kindly as he beckoned the new students toward him.

"That must be Hagrid," Theodore murmured, his voice low as he took in the imposing figure.

"He's a half-giant," Daphne added, her tone curious. "I've heard about him. Groundskeeper here at Hogwarts."

Damian nodded, observing Hagrid with interest. There was a warmth to the man, an openness that contrasted sharply with the cool formality of the aristocratic circles Damian was used to. It was a welcome change, one that brought a small smile to his lips.

They followed Hagrid down a steep, narrow path, the excitement in the air palpable as the first years whispered among themselves. The path wound its way through the darkened woods, and soon, the towering silhouette of Hogwarts Castle came into view, its many turrets and towers illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns.

Damian's breath caught in his throat at the sight. There was something otherworldly about the castle, something that felt like it was alive with the memories and magic of a thousand years. It was a place of history, of power, and it called to something deep within him.

The group came to a stop at the edge of a large, black lake, where a fleet of small boats waited, bobbing gently on the water's surface. "No more'n six to a boat!" Hagrid called out, motioning for the students to climb in.

Damian, Theodore, Daphne, and Lucien quickly found a boat, with Stephen Avery joining them at the last moment. Stephen was a quiet boy, his dark hair and eyes giving him an air of seriousness, but there was a sharpness to his gaze that suggested he missed nothing.

"Ready?" Damian asked, his voice steady as he looked at his companions.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Lucien replied with a smirk, while Daphne gave a composed nod. Theodore and Stephen remained silent, but there was a sense of anticipation in the air, as if they all knew something significant was about to happen.

The boats set off across the lake, gliding smoothly over the still water. The only sound was the soft lapping of the waves against the hulls and the distant hoot of an owl. As they drew closer to the castle, its reflection shimmering on the water's surface, the students fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts.

The journey across the lake was short but magical, the sight of the castle growing larger and more imposing with every passing moment. Soon, they reached the opposite shore, where Hagrid led them up a steep path to the castle's entrance, the massive wooden doors opening with a creak to reveal the warmth and light within.

A stern-looking witch with a pointed hat and sharp features stood waiting for them in the entrance hall. "Welcome to Hogwarts," she said, her voice carrying authority and warmth in equal measure. "I am Professor McGonagall. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts."

She went on to explain the four houses—Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin—each with its own noble history and tradition. As Professor McGonagall spoke, Damian could feel the excitement building in the room, the nervous energy of the first years as they wondered where they would be placed.

"Now, follow me," Professor McGonagall instructed, turning on her heel and leading the group through the grand doors into the Great Hall.

Damian's breath caught once again as they entered the hall. The ceiling was enchanted to look like the night sky, complete with twinkling stars and a crescent moon. Four long tables filled with students stretched the length of the hall, while a fifth, smaller table sat at the front, where the professors were seated.

But it was the Sorting Hat that drew Damian's attention—the tattered, ancient hat resting on a stool at the center of the hall. There was an air of mystery about it, as if it held the secrets of the ages within its worn fabric.

The first years were lined up, and one by one, their names were called. The hall fell silent as each student took their turn sitting on the stool, the hat placed on their head. Some were sorted quickly, while others took a bit longer, the hat seemingly deep in thought before calling out the name of their house.

"Daphne Greengrass," Professor McGonagall called out.

Daphne stepped forward with the grace and poise of someone who had been raised in the highest echelons of society. She sat on the stool, her expression calm, and the hat was placed on her head.

There was a brief pause, and then the hat shouted, "Slytherin!"

Applause erupted from the Slytherin table as Daphne made her way over, her steps measured and controlled. Damian watched her go, feeling a sense of satisfaction. Slytherin was the house of ambition, of cunning and resourcefulness, and it was a place where he knew he could thrive.

"Stephen Avery," Professor McGonagall called next.

Stephen moved forward, his face a mask of concentration. The hat was placed on his head, and after a moment of deliberation, it announced, "Slytherin!"

Stephen joined Daphne at the Slytherin table, his expression still serious but with a hint of pride in his eyes.

"Theodore Nott."

Theodore walked forward, his posture confident, though his face remained impassive. The hat barely touched his head before it shouted, "Slytherin!"

Damian felt a small smile tug at his lips as he watched Theodore join the others. So far, his companions had all been placed in the same house, and he had no doubt where he would be sorted.

"Lucien Malfoy."

Lucien moved with the same grace and confidence as the others, his blonde hair catching the light as he took his place on the stool. The hat deliberated for a few moments, then declared, "Slytherin!"

Lucien smirked as he made his way to the Slytherin table, his eyes briefly meeting Damian's with a look of satisfaction.

Finally, it was Damian's turn. "Damian Peverell," Professor McGonagall announced.

The hall seemed to hold its breath as Damian stepped forward, the weight of a thousand eyes on him. He sat on the stool, feeling the rough fabric of the hat settle over his silver hair. There was a moment of silence, and then he heard a voice in his ear—quiet, contemplative.

"Interesting… very interesting," the hat murmured. "I see great power within you, and a deep sense of purpose. Ambition, yes… but tempered with wisdom and a desire to protect those you care about. You would do well in many houses, but…"

Damian's heart raced as the hat seemed to ponder its decision.

"But I believe Slytherin is where you belong!"

The Slytherin table erupted in cheers, and Damian felt a surge of pride as he stood and made his way over to join his new housemates. He took his place beside Theodore and Daphne, feeling a sense of belonging settle over him. This was where he was meant to be.

As the Sorting continued, the first years watched with a mix of anticipation and curiosity, the names and houses blending together as the final few students were sorted. The Slytherin table was abuzz with excitement, whispers of plans and ambitions already beginning to form among the newly sorted.

Damian allowed himself a moment to savor the victory. He had been placed exactly where he wanted, surrounded by those he believed he could trust. The next seven years would be challenging, no doubt, but they would also be filled with opportunity—opportunities to learn, to grow, and to shape his future.

As the last student was sorted and the hat was taken away, Damian glanced around the Great Hall, taking in the faces of the students at the other tables. There was an unspoken understanding that the real work would begin now, that the friendships and alliances formed here would shape the rest of their lives.

But that was for later. For now, Damian was content to simply enjoy the moment, to relish the sense of excitement and possibility that filled the air.

As the food appeared on the tables, signaling the start of the welcoming feast, Damian couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation for what was to come. The journey had truly begun, and he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

With a final glance around the hall, Damian turned his attention to his plate, ready to enjoy the feast and the company of his new housemates. The future was bright, and Damian Peverell was ready to embrace it with open arms.