The green and silver table erupted in cheers, but I barely heard them. My eyes were locked on the Gryffindor table, where a boy with messy black hair and round glasses was staring at me like he'd seen a ghost.

Harry Potter.

My twin brother.

I forced myself to look away, to walk toward the Slytherin table with my chin held high, the way Durmstrang had taught me. Cold. Unapproachable. A weapon disguised as a student.

The hall buzzed with whispers. "His sister?" "She looks just like him." "Where did she come from?"

I slid onto the bench between a boy with sharp cheekbones and a girl with a sleek black bob. They exchanged a glance before the girl spoke.