Three Heads is Better than One
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The words echoed all the way to the back of the hall, unencumbered by any other noises. It probably had something to do with the acoustics of the room, as well as the fact that the hall had gone completely silent.
I lifted the Sorting Hat off my head and saw that everyone was staring at me in shock. I saw mouths hanging wide open, eyes bulging from their sockets and looking about ready to simply roll out of their skulls in surprise. No one even blinked as they stared at me, and I suppose I can't blame them, my sorting did take a good deal of time.
Deciding not to let the stares bother me, I stood up and placed the sorting hat back on the stool. I spared a glance at Professor McGonagall. Her emotions were masked much better than everyone else's, but I could see her surprise as well. The other teachers were the same, except for two. The man I recognize from my card as Albus Dumbledore, who stared at me with an expression of intrigue, and the Professor with greasy hair and a hooked nose, who leered at me like I was the dirt beneath his boots.
I almost got angry at that leer. It reminded me of how Vernon Dursley used to look at me before I put the fear of god into him. But I simply took a deep breath, held it, allowed my mind to clear of any emotions that could cloud my judgment as I breathed out, and turned away.
It wouldn't do to lift one of my professor's and hurl them through a wall or, heaven forbid, one of those stained glass panels on my very first day of school. I hear it's bad form.
I walked toward my designated table, the one where children are decked out in red and gold. Gryffindor. The House of the Brave. Everyone was still gawking at me, their eyes wide and mouths open.
For a second, I wonder if I made a mistake in choosing this House to be the one I'll live in for seven years. I squashed the impulse to analyze my decision to join Gryffindor. The choice has now been made. Second guessing would only serve to distract me from my goals.
It was not until I am nearly halfway to the Gryffindor table that said table erupted into a frenzy. All of the students stood up and begin clapping and cheering. I saw the two Weasley twins chanting, "we've got Potter!" as loudly as they could. They looked like they'd just won the lottery.
I guess I can't blame them. Much as I detest the thought, my fame alone makes me a desirable asset for any of the four houses. Just another reason to dislike the house system, I guess.
I finally reach the table and am swept in a round of laughs and back slaps as everyone tried to greet me at once. I smiled and greeted those around me, presenting them the image I wanted them to see. First impressions are everything, and I need to make a good first impression on these people. I'll be living with them for the next seven years, after all.
Eventually, I managed to nudge my way to an empty seat, one right next to the boy who was the very reason I decided to be sorted into Gryffindor.
"Hullo, Neville!" I greeted the boy with the same friendly smile I've used on everyone else. Neville stared at me in shock, like he couldn't believe I was talking to him. With what I've seen of him so far, I'm not surprised. The boy doesn't seem to think much of himself. At least he managed to snap out of his stupor quickly.
"Oh! Um, erm, hullo, Harry."
I wanted to say more, engage the boy in conversation so I can determine the best method of earning his allegiance, but Professor McGonagall decided to restart the sorting ceremony and called up another first year. I payed close attention to everyone who was sorted, putting each name to a face and memorizing which house they went to.
"Weasley, Ronald!"
I watched the red haired boy sit down on the stool and the hat cover his head, drooping down to his ears. My mind went back to our first encounter on the Hogwarts Express. Truth be told, I still wasn't quite sure what to think of that meeting. It really left a bad taste in my mouth. But I also couldn't deny that I overreacted. Perhaps I should apologize to him later on? While I have no intention of being friends with him, I also don't want to alienate anyone who may prove potentially useful.
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
I blinked in surprise as the youngest Weasley was sorted into the House of Badgers. I watched the boy's face turn redder than his hair as he yanked the hat off his head and nearly threw it away, before angrily stomping to the Hufflepuff table. None of the Hufflepuff's clapped, probably because of the angry look in his eyes, and Ron, ignoring them, shoved himself into a seat with an almost audible growl.
I shake my head and focused my attention away from the boy. My eyes scanned the Gryffindor table. All of the other Weasley's are there, and from my understanding, the Weasley's have been consistently Gryffindor for many many years. Much as certain children from darker pureblood families like the Blacks are almost always consistently Slytherin, it was tradition for certain families to always be Gryffindor.
Then again, Sirius Black was a Gryffindor, so it's not like traditions couldn't be broken.
The three other Weasley children looked most disappointed to see one of their own being Sorted into another House. Percy looked mournful, as if someone had just told him he was no longer a prefect. The twins were shaking their heads pityingly.
"A real shame about our dear brother's Sorting, right Fred?"
"Too right, George. I am most disappointed to see Ronikkens being Sorted into the House of Cowards. Then again, he always has been easily intimidated by us."
"Well, we did turn his teddy bear into a spider when he was younger. Maybe it's our fault he got Sorted into Hufflepuff?"
"Nah!" They both finished together.
I frowned as I heard the slight dig on Hufflepuff. It was one thing to hear from Andromeda how everyone thought Hufflepuff was the house of duffers, cowards and left overs, but it was quite another to hear two students talking about the same thing. Was this truly how everyone saw that house? It almost made him wish he could take back his decision and get sorted there just so they could have some claim to fame.
The only other person I took a personal interest in was Blaise Zabini, who got sorted into Slytherin. My eyes trailed the dark-skinned boy as he sat down next to Tracey and Daphne, the former gave the boy a dazzling smile and a pat on the back while the latter settled for a nod. Blaise seemed to take both gestures with poise. He was very in control of himself, I noted. He would make a good ally.