Warning: Rated 'T' for 'Timm.'
Dissonance
The crisp autumn airs whipped up leaves and strew them across the pavement. Crunchy little things, this time of year; perfect for sweeping into a pile and jumping in. That, tempting as it was, didn't register in the mind of a young boy with fiery red hair and eyes like sapphires. Tucking his scarf around his neck securely, he stepped across the threshold of his home, and into the playful winds.
Shivering, he scrambled towards a small green car. "Dad! Dad, hurry up!" The tall man with deep mahogany tresses chuckled, casually following the excited child. "Don't worry; we'll make the train, Timothy." Timothy scowled.
"I told you not to call me that. My name is Timm." A giggle erupted from the last of the cottage's (if it could really be called that, with the nine bedrooms and six baths; five of which full) occupants. "Don't laugh at me, Mum!" Timm whined, stomping a foot childishly.
The blonde woman smiled teasingly. "Of course… Timothy." The scowl turned into a pout with "menacing" eyes (but really, the boy was too cute for his own good).
You two are horrible. Really, absolutely atrocious." His parents snickered as they all climbed into the little car, starting it up and beginning the long drive to King's Cross Train Station.
Thunder clapped through the most menacing of nights, streaks of thunder lighting up the sky magnificently. The wind and rain screamed across the county, ripping up brittle leaves and crumbling them. Timm stared, open mouthed at the ceiling as the first names from the sorting list were called, loudly to be heard over the weather.
'It's beautiful.' He decided, 'How can these people be so calm? This is amazing!' Reluctantly, he tore his eyes from the ceiling ("It's enchanted," Jeanine, a fellow first year, had informed him pleasantly), only to marvel over the banners of the houses. 'Beautiful cross-stitch,' he mused.
"Kerfluffle, Timothy."
'Really, beautiful~' Timm thought dreamily, wandering into artistic vision. Jeanine elbowed him in the ribs and he yelped, turning to glare at her. "What?" He asked.
"Kerfluffle, Timothy?"
"That." Jeanine replied, smirking. Timm's cheeks colored in embarrassment and he looked down, making his way quietly up to the stool and the 'creepy' hat, as a second year boy he'd met on the train told him ('Quinton, I believe?'). The stoic looking teacher placed the hat on his head and it fell past his eyes.
Wrinkling his nose, Timm pushed it up so he could see and so he'd look slightly less ridiculous. 'That,' He thought, 'was probably not the best idea." He paled as he gazed back at the crowd of students and soon-to-be-students watching him. Timm twitched faintly at the look most of the female population was giving him; as if they'd like to stuff him in a baby carriage or a dress.
A soft rumble sounded by his ear and he blinked curiously. "Well aren't you the uncommon enigma, my boy?" Feeling a shift of the fabric upon his head, Timm realized that the HAT was talking to him!
"Holy- oh my gosh. You're a hat. And you're talking." Timm blurted without thinking, and the hall would have burst into laughter had the teacher next to him silenced them with a warning look. Instead, they lapsed into quiet giggles.
"Wonderful perception, Timothy. I applaud you." The Hat chuckled, and Timm could feel it looking into his mind. It was a strange sensation: as if the whistling winds outside the castle were gently swirling through his mind and body. A shiver ran up his spine, uncomfortable with the chill settling through his bones.
He managed to pout, "My name is Timm." The Hat ignored the 'Aw~!'s of the female students and laughed loud and hearty.
"Of course. I can see it. Your stubbornness over your name, the way you love to study the little details and your fondness of life. You'd be quite the catch, wouldn't you?" The chill of his mind being invaded was replaced with a fierce burning in his cheeks and the want to crawl under a rock or feed himself to a Hippogriff.
"But enough of the small talk; I see bravery, hard work, intelligence, and cleverness. Really, any of the houses would suit you and raise you to greatness, but I see a habit of nit-picking and holding deep grudges. So… Slytherin it is!"
The green-tied students wrinkled their brows, but applauded politely as Timm pulled the Hat from his head and skipped down to them. He grinned widely as he sat down, ignoring them in favor of watching the rest of the sorting.
Neon: Well, that's the first chapter of my latest 'fiction and I'm going to try REALLY HARD not to disappoint you guys or drop the story like I did with my other two. ^-^" I just kind of got bored of them. *shrug* I'll try for longer chapters soon, but for now I'm just feeling it out. :D And Timm's last name is an inside joke between me and the other Theater geeks at my school ("Everything in this mansion is 100% Kerfluffle. The floor you are standing on is 100% Kerfluffle. The pictures on the walls are 100% Kerfluffle. I am 100% Kerfluffle!"). It's also meant for comic relief. :3
Anyway, read and review, if you want. :3
AND REMEMBER: Flames will be used to help hatch my own baby dragon. His name shall be Philip.