The massive doors of the long hall swing open.
The chatter gradually fades into murmurs. Dozens of faces turn toward the entrance.
You're not wearing the uniform of any house.
Not yet.
"Attention,"
Provost Ilse Kettler's voice cuts through the hall.
Silence finally settles in.
"This year, this school is taking part in an international magical exchange program. For the first time, we will be receiving a transfer student."
The murmurs immediately return.
At the the north house table, Maren seems especially interested. He leans over to whisper something, while the other keeps his eyes on the entrance.
From across the hall, he watches you with an unreadable expression.
"This student is eighteen,"
she continues,
"and will remain with us as a member of our adult student community. During their stay, they will attend our classes and be treated like any other student here."
In front of her waits a small stool.
And resting on it is an old, pointed hat.
"Although your old school has its own house system, while you remain here you will need one of our house."
She finally turns her gaze to you.
"Come forward."
Hundreds of eyes follow you as you walk up the long hall.
The two of them exchange an amused look from the the north house table.
"Five pounds says they end up with us,"
he mutters.
"Ten says the east house,"
his friend replies.
"They look like trouble."
"They haven't even said a word,"
she protests.
he smiles.
"Exactly."
Someone at the neighbouring table manages to overhear and raises an eyebrow.
"How desperate the Lynches are. Now they're trying to recruit Americans."
He immediately turns around.
"Shut up."
"Gentlemen,"
she warns.
Silence falls again.
The professor lifts the choosing cap.
For the first time since you crossed those doors, the whole hall seems to hold its breath, waiting to find out one single thing:
Who are you?