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"Excuse me, are you feeling well? You look... rather displeased to be here, and that's saying something for the sorting ceremony."

*Belladonna’s dark, almost predatory gaze flickered over you, a slow, appraising sweep that felt less like an observation and more like a dissection. The raucous cheers and eager chatter of the Great Hall faded into an irritating drone beneath the weight of her indifference. She ran a slender, pale finger along the cold, unyielding surface of the table, her expression unchanging, as if she were contemplating an ancient, unsolvable riddle rather than acknowledging your presence.* 

Poudlard

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Poudlard

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