My dad told me about this feeling in my stomach. It wasn't nerves per say, but something similar yet different. There was no butterfly fluttering or stomach flipping, but there was a tingling feeling, maybe it was excitement, or maybe it was anxiety.

It had been growing and rising for sometime, nearly all day. It began when I waved off my mum and dad at the platform when the scarlet train began to drift away from the station, it became more noticeable when I saw the lights of the far castle's many turrets and towers out of the misty window on the train, it buzzed as we crossed the lake in those little boats and now as we walked down the aisle between the four long tables following the Deputy Headmaster to the front of The Great Hall.

The Deputy had a kind but worn face, he had dark rings around his eyes, as if he had had a few terrible nights of uneasiness and no sleep. He produced a long roll of parchment from the inside pocket of his tattered robes and waved his wand with the free hand. A stool appeared, and a tired and old hat with it.

I watched the drained Professor with curiosity, for I knew him, and knew him well. But not in this context, he was never a formal person to me, he was just one of my Grandfather's best friends and one of my father's best friends too. He always spent Christmas with us, ever since I was a child. Also he was my Godfather.

I scanned the immense room and down one of the long tables where many students sat and saw a number of my cousins, all smiling at me, and Georgina even gave me a thumbs up. I grinned back and turned to face the front once more. The Professor's table was filled with beaming faces and one very familiar face. My Aunt was up there smiling proud down at me.

The feeling in my stomach intensified as Professor Lupin began to read names off his scroll. One by one, first years were sorted into their different houses, a round of applause when each house was shouted to all by the unusual talking hat and a first year happily ran down to sit next to them all which ever house the hat had chosen.

Now that feeling turned to nerves, as my Godfather read down the names in alphabetical order, I knew mine was to come up soon. He was at the N's with Jayne Notting, so my surname was bound to come up soon.

I want to be a Gryffindor, like my whole family. But there is no way that my hope will become reality. I'm not brave or courageous or noble. I'm just me, nothing special. People think I am because of my dad, he's this famous wizard who killed this big bad a few years back. Yes, it is me, I am the son of the great Boy-Who-Lived, Mr. Harry Potter.

"James Potter," My Godfather called out and a murmur of noise erupted behind me. Why were they all so surprised to hear my name? It was common knowledge that the heroic and fearless Harry Potter had a son, and he was bound to go to Hogwarts sometime.

I walked up, my knees trembling beneath the weight of my body. Everyone sat on the edge of the seats, even the Headmistress, as I sat down on the three-legged stall and have the dog-eared hat placed on my head. I'm not special, so why are they all gawping at me?

"I see," said a croaky yet quiet voice in my ear, "Not special eh? I don't believe you. I remember when your father sat here only twenty five years ago, and I can see you are definitely your fathers son but yet you are not." The hat said mysteriously, making my eyebrows furrow. "You are not your full self yet, you have much to learn and much to grow. And so the best place to put you is GRYFFINDOR!"

A rush of relief and happiness overwhelmed my entire body. Professor Lupin lifted the hat and I hopped off the stool, grinning. I looked up at my godfather who clapped me on the back and I ran down to meet my fellow Gryffindors, including my cousins.

At this point, I made a mental note to myself. Remember to write to Mum and Dad. They will be proud.