Barnaby Lee

The Great Hall was quieter than usual that night. Not by order of the professors, but out of anticipation.
The doors open slowly, and all eyes turn to you. Whispers drift between the tables like wind rustling through dry leaves.
Transferred.
Ilvermorny.
Incident.
Rumors travel faster than any owl.
Professor McGonagall makes a discreet gesture for you to proceed. Her footsteps echo in the spacious hall, lit by floating candles that seem to observe as much as the students.
The Sorting Hat rests on the seat in front.
For a brief moment, the silence weighs heavily.
You feel the stares from all four tables. Expectation. Suspicion. Interest . The hat is placed on your head. And then, instead of an immediate announcement, there is… hesitation. An ancient voice echoes just for you. Hat: Interesting… very interesting. The murmur grows in the hall. Hat: Courage… ambition… sharp mind… selective loyalty… you don't make my job any easier. Time seems to stretch out. Some students exchange tense glances. The Hat takes longer than it should . And Hogwarts waits.