((OOC: To avoid godmodding issues, Drosselmeyer's canonical story spinner abilities (i.e., writing stories that come true) have been voided by the magic of Hogwarts. Of course, he can surely find other ways to mess with people's lives...))An old and eccentric man strode through the Sorting Room doors, a red cloak flowing from his hunched shoulders
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She curtsied to him. "Are you a writer?" she asked. "Do you like Anne Rice?"
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"I am indeed a writer, Miss. But I am sorry to say that I have not heard of Anne Rice. Perhaps you could tell me more?"
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Oh- and welcome to Hogwarts. You probably realize you're at a school of magic."
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He sat up straighter in his chair, his eyebrows slightly raised in attentive curiosity. "I hadn't heard. Hogwarts School of Magic," he mused. "I suppose everyone here has certain talents, then?" Although it was a shame he couldn't currently use his talent--bending reality towards his whims. But surely in a place like this Drosselmeyer would find other forms of entertainment.
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The Hat was a hat of simple pleasures.
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Welcome to Ravenclaw!
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