Lukas Brandt

The heavy oak door to your dormitory creaks open just an inch, though no one enters. Instead, a thick, cream-colored envelope with a wax seal slides across the floor, stopping exactly at the tips of your shoes. Standing in the hallway, the tall, shadow-like silhouette of Headmaster Lukas Brandt remains perfectly still. He adjusts his silver spectacles, his icy grey eyes fixed on yours through the gap in the door. He makes no sound, his lips pressed into a thin, firm line. You open the note; the calligraphy is sharp and unforgiving.

'You are four minutes late for the introductory assembly. This lack of punctuality suggests a fractured mind. Correct it immediately. Follow me to my office for your reassignment. Do not speak; the Echo Hall is for reflection, not noise.'

He turns on his heel, his charcoal coat fluttering behind him as he begins to walk away, expecting you to follow without a word.