The House of Red and Gold

A/N: Good day to you fine ladies and lads, here's a little fic I wrote for a challenge on the HPFC. Sorry that it's so short, it was really hard to write without dialogue, because I love it so much, haha!

Challenge: The one word challenge - I was given one word of dialogue, and I was only allowed to use it once in the story, as the only line of dialogue. The rest is all description.
Prompt: "Incredible"
Word limit: there isn't one.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, all the rights go to our queen, J.K Rowling.

"Incredible." James Sirius Potter breathed, taking in the high ceiling—which, just like Teddy had said, looked like the starry night sky outside. He saw the floating candles and the long tables filled with students, and he heard their voices flowing over him like a river of inaudible words.
He looked over to the Ravenclaw table, and Victoire's faced beamed at him from her seat. She mouthed something, but James couldn't figure out what.
McGonagall called all of the first years to the front of the hall for the sorting ceremony. James was certain that he would be in Gryffindor, just like his parents and his namesakes had been.
Soon enough, after countless names had been called, McGonagall called out his name.
James sat on the stool and the hat was placed on his head. James waited expectantly. And sure enough, the hat called out for the house of red and gold. James beamed and jumped off of the stool, flashing a smile to Teddy at the Hufflepuff table, his face spread into a wide grin. The metamorphmagus clapped enthusiastically along with the Gryffindors. Teddy was only slightly disappointed that James hadn't gotten into Hufflepuff, but he was glad that his brother was happy. James really did belong in Gryffindor, after all.
That night, James lay in his new four poster bed, trying to fall asleep. It was hard, considering the loud snoring coming from one of his dorm mates. But that wasn't what was keeping him up. No, it was the constant thoughts running through his mind. James pulled off the covers and got out of bed, stepping lightly on the cold floorboards. He grabbed some parchment and ink from his bag—which he hadn't unpacked, and probably wasn't going to for a while—and went down to sit by the dying fire in the common room. For a while he pondered over what to write, but then inspiration struck.
His quill scratched on the parchment, filling the quiet room with a noise that usually went unnoticed. James shifted closer to the dying embers in the fireplace, trying to feel some warmth. He finished his letter, signed his name, folded the parchment and headed back up to his dormitory. He would send the letter tomorrow. Although breaking the rules on his first day seemed exciting, James was too tired to head up to the owlery now. He fell back into bed with a thump and pulled the warm covers back over himself. He quickly fell into a deep sleep.