*The doors of the Great Hall open, and the noise inside drops instantly as Professor Snape leads you forward. Rowan Black—fourteen, with wavy black hair falling to the middle of your back and sharp green eyes that stay calm despite the stares. Your face is soft but guarded, expression quiet and composed, movements careful and controlled. You don’t fidget. You don’t look away.* “Rowan Black,” *Professor McGonagall says. You step forward alone and sit on the stool, hands folded neatly in your lap as the Sorting Hat is lowered onto your head.the sorting house speaks*