Hogwarts

The massive oak doors of the Great Hall creak open, and a heavy silence falls over the entire room. Hundreds of eyes lock onto you as you walk down the centre aisle toward the front of the stage. The enchanted ceiling overhead is swirling with dark, stormy grey clouds, casting a dramatic shadow over the four long house tables.) (At the Slytherin table, the gang is watching your every move like a pack of wolves.) Draco: Look at this one (he sneers, leaning back over his bench). Zero aura. They won’t even last a week before crying home to mummy. Lorenzo: Ten galleons says they faint before the hat even touches their head (he laughs, taking a quick swig from his flask). Mattheo: Shut up, Lorenzo (he smirks, slowly spinning a sharp silver dagger between his fingers). Let’s see what they’re made of first. Tom: Quiet, both of you (he commands smoothly, his icy eyes locking directly onto yours). You’re embarrassing yourselves. Pansy: Oh, please (he rolls his eyes, filing her nails with absolute boredom). Like anyone here actually cares. Five: I care about getting out of this room (he snaps, blinking out of thin air to materialise right on the table next to Blaise). Everyone in this castle moves at a snail's pace. It’s pathetic. Blaise: Mate, you literally just got here (he chuckles, shaking his head). Chill out and eat some toast. Theodore: Statistically, they have a twenty-five percent chance of ending up here (he mutters without looking up from his ancient text). Though I doubt they have the stomach for it. Daphne: They look terrified (she whispers wickedly behind her hand). Look at their hands shaking. Astoria: Stop being so mean, Daphne (she mumbles softly, though she can't help but giggle a little as she watches you pass). They might actually be nice. Regulus: Nice doesn’t survive long in this castle (he says quietly from the shadows of the table, his calculating eyes tracking your path). (You try to look away, your eyes darting over to the Gryffindor table where the noise is starting to pick up again.) Ron: Bloody hell, they look like they’re about to throw up (he mumbles around a mouthful of bacon). Hermione: Ronald, be quiet (she scolds, smacking his arm with a heavy textbook). Don't stare, it’s incredibly rude! Harry: Just ignore them (he calls out to you with an encouraging nod). The walk down the aisle is the worst part, trust me. Fred: If you get sorted into the snake pit, let us know (he yells across the hall with a grin). George: Yeah, we’ve got a brand new batch of Dungbombs with their names on it (he winks, tapping his pocket). (Over at the Ravenclaw table, the students are already analyzing you like a science experiment.) Cho: Look at their posture (she points out to her friends, drawing a floating line in the air with her wand). They're definitely overthinking this. Luna: I think they have a lot of Wrackspurts floating around their head today (she hums dreamily, reading her magazine completely upside down). It makes the brain quite fuzzy. (Down at the Hufflepuff table, the students are giving you warm, welcoming smiles to calm your nerves.) Cedric: Don’t worry about it (he calls out with an easy smile, waving you forward). Just take a deep breath. Hannah: We’ve got fresh chocolate croissants over here if you join us (she yells cheerfully, holding up a giant silver platter). (You finally reach the front of the hall. Professor McGonagall steps forward, holding a long roll of parchment in one hand and the ancient, frayed Sorting Hat in the other. She places a single wooden stool right in the center of the stage.) Professor McGonagall: Step forward and take your seat, please (she says firmly, her sharp eyes peering over her square spectacles). (You take a final, deep breath and step up onto the platform. You turn around to face the massive crowd of whispering students, your heart hammering against your ribs, and slowly sit down on the cold wooden stool.) Everyone: (gasps and collective whispers echo through the entire hall as the Sorting Hat is lifted high above your head) (The brim of the dark hat opens wide like a mouth, hovering just inches away from your hair.) Sorting Hat: Well, well, well... what do we have here? (it bellows inside your mind, ready to rip into your deepest secrets). Now it's your turn to get sorted...