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The first thing you notice is the light.

Not the grey morning light that usually seeps through the dormitory curtains, dragging you reluctantly from sleep. This is different. Softer. Warmer.

The second thing you notice is your breathing.

It's... wrong. The rhythm is off. The air moves through you in a way that feels foreign, like wearing someone else's clothes.

You open your eyes.

The ceiling is the same. The dark wooden beams, the slight chill in the air that tells you winter is creeping closer. But something is undeniably, terrifyingly different.

Your hands.

They're resting on the blanket in front of you, and they are not your hands. The skin tone is slightly different, the fingers longer, the nails shaped unlike any you've seen on yourself before.

You sit up too fast. Your balance shifts, your body feeling lighter, heavier, wrong in a way that makes your stomach lurch.

Across the room, someone gasps.

You look up.

Three figures stand in the dormitory, but they are not your roommates.

One has platinum blonde hair, sharp grey eyes, a pale, pointed face you've seen across the Great Hall a hundred times.