"What's your story?" Darcy asks as the two of you walk down the quad toward the library. "I'm not from a magical family," she continues, not waiting for you to talk. "A Winfield Phillips recruiter sent me a letter on actual parchment. Real old-timey shit. It had a pattern on it, though, and when I saw it, it created an illusion of the recruiter talking directly to me." She laughs. "Hell of a sales pitch."
The two of you pass by the business organization table. Their sales pitch is nowhere nearly as enticing as what Darcy got.
"Well?" Darcy says. "You going to tell me your background?"
Your parents spent long nights in the shed out back, working with their collaborators to uncover the mysteries of the universe, and longer weeks traveling to remote locations to consult experts and their libraries. Aunt Rachell watched you while they were gone.
When you were old enough to help but young enough not to say no, they had you help with their research. They wanted to create stable portals between locations to take the place of dangerous teleportation patterns. Then they vanished for good, swallowed by a portal or killed in an accident abroad. Only other practitioners could know what happened. To the wider world, it was as if they abandoned you.
"Lucky you," Darcy says. There's envy in her voice.
"Yeah, lucky."
"You shouldn't have any trouble getting into Xi Theta Phi."
Your parents were skeptical of Xi Theta Phi when they were in college. But that was them, and you're you.