The days before the event felt heavy, weighing down everything in Ravenclaw. It wasn't loud or clear, but it felt like a warning before bad weather.
Workers hurried through the hallways, carrying piles of clothes and shiny silver trays. Material sparkled in the light as sewers rushed to complete special robes. The kitchens were loud with banging pots, and the strong smell of spices and cooked meat floated down the halls. Soldiers practised longer than usual, their yells echoing across the grounds, and more guards watched the borders.
From the outside, the group seemed full of happiness.
But Evelyn felt the stress under it all.
Everywhere she went, people watched her. Some looked curious, others doubtful, and some were openly unfriendly. No one dared talk to her directly, but whispers followed her like a shadow. She heard enough to know what they thought. She was a problem. A danger. A girl who shouldn't have been picked.
