Every eye was fixed upon the eleven year old. His jet black hair, emerald eyes and the lightening bolt scar on his forehead had heads turning. The appearance of his new surroundings had not quite settled in. He couldn't help but notice a candle which was floating right beside a teachers head. It was so close to his black, greasy hair he was convinced it would seen be ablaze. The hall had four long tables, filled with older students who were all looking at him, whispering.
He admired the hall around him. The ceiling was a velvety colour and looked like the night sky. He heard a female voice behind him say "It's charmed to look like the night sky, you know?" To her friend. He nervously fixed his glasses.
In his daze, he had not heard what the elderly witch had said. Nearly all the students were gone and sitting at their new house tables. "Parkinson, Pansy." The witch said.
Harry swallowed nervously, he was next. The hat barely touched her head before it yelled out "Slytherin!"
"Potter, Harry."
All the heads in the hall turned to look. They all watched eagerly to see where he was going to placed. He looked at the ginger boy he had been talking to on the train. His eyes widened as his new friend gave him a gently shove forward. He sat down on the stool, gripping it nervously.
He closed his eyes and listened to the hat talk "Hm, difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There's talent, oh yes and thirst to prove yourself. But where to put you?"
The boy chewed nervously on his bottom lip. The hat bellowed "Slytherin!"