red and gold and a touch of warmth
He clenched his fists into his robes as he walked up to the hat. It was placed on top of him and almost covered his entire head, save for his chin.
He didn't know what he would do if he actually ended up in a house that wasn't practically a family spot at this point. Plus, Gryffindor sounded like a very good option at the moment.
But he wasn't very scared, the Sorting Hat was almost always right. But...he wanted Gryffindor as his house. That place where his parents and family had grown up in, it sounded almost like heaven.
"Not Slytherin then, heh? Are you sure? You could find greatness in Slytherin, you know. No?" The hat repeated and Harry shrunk in on himself as the hat pondered about, "Well if it's a no then I suppose, GRYFFINDOR!"
The hat was taken off of him and he joined the red-bannered table.
All the people there clapped as they welcomed him into their house. They seemed to be cheering louder than normal. He felt almost dizzy at all the attention he was getting.
More names were called, two ginger boys who looked like twins were yelling out their guesses on what house the student walking upto the hat would be put in.
Harry realised with a start they looked alot like Ron. His older brothers, then.
A few older students were exchanging sickles and knutts at the houses the kids were being put in. Students with younger siblings getting sorted leaned forward to see the event.
Unlike all the other houses, who were either indifferent or bored, Gryffindor seemed to make sorting an actually fun event among one another.
Hermione sat across to him, chatting away in wonder at the beautiful place, "The roof with candles isn't actually an open space. It's spelled to look like the sky! I read it in a book." She exclaimed facts.
"And the candles aren't floating on their own, they have enchanted invisible strings, I think." Harry replied to her. His sister Debbie loved to ask and spout out facts.
She nodded her head in excitement, "The strings are also spelled to not break or sway, the candles aren't spelled to float." She seemed happy at having a conversation with him.
She seemed lonely, chattering facts nobody was interested in. Harry supposed with the way she acted like such a potential teacher's pet, nobody really enjoyed her company much.
Ron's turn came and surprise surprise! He was sorted in Gryffindor. He bolted to the seat next to Harry as soon as the hat was taken off of him.
"Merlin, the hat has a weird way of talking. You'd think an old man was floating above you." Ron claimed.
"Are you calling me old, kid?" A ghost from right above him questioned.
All the first years gasped at the old-stylishly dressed man that came floating down and going right through the table.
A fifth year greeted him like he was an old friend, not a literal ghost.
"You know, I hope Gryffindor wins the House cup this year, Slytherin's won since the last six years. Someone ought to knock the Bloody Baron down a notch." He conversed with a student.
"My brothers told me about you! You're Nearly Headless Nick!" Ron gasped.
"Oh well I'd rather not be called that-" The puffy-sleeved ghost tried to voice himself.
"But how are you nearly headless?" Seamus Finnigan asked.
"Oh, well you see..." He irritably grumbled as he grabbed his own head by the hair and pulled until his head was detached aside from a tiny piece of skin sticking it together.
Guts and blood made for a gruesome sight Nick recovered by sticking his head back again. Harry tried not to gag at the man. He almost failed. Almost.
"I would prefer for you to call me Sir Nicholas De Mimsy-" He tried to introduce himself again but was interrupted.
The sorting ceremony was completed and the Headmaster got up from his chair, "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddmeant! Tweak! Thank you."
He had purple robes and a matching hat. His half-moon glasses seemed to shine brightly in the Great Hall and his long white beard went right up to his feet.
He sat back in his chair as the entire hall applauded and cheered. Harry wasn't sure whether to laugh or not.
"Oh, and Mr.Argus Filch here-" He gestured towards a sickly old man with a balding head and rotting teeth,
"-wishes for me to remind the first years that the fourth floor, where the Hogwarts staff keeps cursed or unused items that could prove harm to you students, is strictly forbidden to enter."
That seemed sensible enough, although why they would make an entire floor a staff attic, he didn't understand.
Mr. Filch, as the Headmaster- Professor Dumbledore - seemed to call him, cleared his throat and the long-bearded headmaster continued,
"Also, the Dark Forest is strictly forbidden as well for all those who wish to not die a painful death. That being said, I do hope you students will enjoy another year at Hogwarts and end the year a little taller, a little braver, and I hope a little more smarter. May the Grand Feast begin." He commanded, blue eyes glinting warmly at the school he called his own.
Harry made a mental note to keep an eye on Debbie when she entered the school. Entering a deathly dangerous place that had a lot of magical aspects was something she would do.
She was the type of kid to put a lemon in the microwave just to see what it would do (it would explode, Harry speaks from witnessing it).
The table in front of them was suddenly served with tons of food.
It was the most British food you'd ever lay your eyes on, with boiled potatoes, roasted pork, roasted potatoes, buttered peas, plain chicken and so much more.
Harry was confused on whether he was even allowed to eat all of that but then he saw Ron excitedly shove chicken in his mouth like it was his last meal on earth and Harry grinned and carelessly dug into the food.
"Am half and half. Me mum's a muggle, dad's a witch. She didn't tell him until they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him." Finnigan narrated and everyone laughed. Because Jk Rowling making a catholic and protestant Irish joke that I barely know about since I skipped history is funny. Because Seamus Finnigan, the Irish kid, being reputed for blowing shit it up is so laugh worthy. Haha. (Future author here:WHAT WERE YOU ON ELEVEN YEAR OLD ME???)
The Great Hall was filled with excited chattering of the kids, old and new, and the professors seemed to have quite a good time as well.
He caught the green-dressed lady with the pointed hat staring fondly at him a few times.
She had bright eyes underneath the wrinkled face that were bright like a cat's in the light of the Great Hall, her black hair was tied in a tight bun as she shook her head at a much shorter professor.
He smiled back at her once and they nodded at each other like they were communicating in a secret code.
Nobody he was close to before entering the school was present at the moment but he didn't mind.
He had the stern witch from the professor's table smiling at him and the freckled boy talking through a mouth full of chicken next to him and the bushy haired girl making conversations the likes of which only someone who grew up with Debbie could appreciate.
Harry had, atleast at the moment, more than enough.