Nick Darling was by no means calm as he followed the rest of the first year students into the Great Hall.
He was perhaps the farthest thing from calm; bouncing up and down as he walked, shaking his hands as if he were trying to get water off them even though they were completely dry, rocking back and forth on his heels. He was a bundle of pent up energy, both excited and terrified at the exact same time. The eyes of the older students on them didn't exactly help his nerves; his heart beat like a hummingbird's wings in his chest and his hands were trembling so much that he had to ball them into fists to keep others from noticing. Hoping to put himself a bit more at ease, he took to looking about the Great Hall to distract himself.
It wasn't called the "Great Hall" for nothing. It was huge, larger than any single room Nick had seen in his entire life. The ceiling was so very high that it lay in shadow―no, that was the sky that he saw, an inky darkness splattered with tiny diamond stars. It was as if the walls simply faded away into the night sky, though Nick suspected that it was in actuality some sort of enchantment. The room was lit with an innumerable amount of candles that hovered in mid-air over the four, long tables that stretched nearly the length of the hall. At the very far end, a table not near as long sat horizontally along the wall on a slightly raised platform, and sitting behind it were a number of unique-looking witches and wizards that Nick took to be the teachers. The four tables each sat hundreds of black-robed students, though from snatched of colours in their ties and on their robes, Nick gathered that each table sat a single House. Upon the walls, four large tapestries―two on the wall to his left and two to his right―each boasted a Hogwarts house and their crest; Gryffindor's lion, Hufflepuff's badger, Ravenclaw's eagle (wait, what?), and Slytherin's serpent.
"Awesome," Nick breathed, positively giddy.
Professor McGonagall, the tall, spindly witch dressed in emerald green, lead the first years to the front of the hall to stand before the teachers' table. While Nick was still gawking at the rest of the hall, she placed a three legged stool on the stone ground and atop it a tattered, frayed wizard's hat.
The hall fell silent, every pair of eyes fixated on this hat, as if waiting for something. A few heartbeats later, to Nick's uttermost surprise and delight, the brim of the hat ripped open of its own accord and the bloody thing began to sing.
" Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, if you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"
The entire hall burst into applause, Nick very much included. However amazing the hat's song was, it did very little to reassure Nick of his insecurities. He doubted that he'd fit into Gryffindor if they truly valued bravery; Nick was quite possibly the most cowardly person he knew, though he was much braver than some―or much more stubborn, more like.
Ravenclaw still seemed very much like a place that his brother Chase would excel in, the nerd, but unfortunately Chase was attending Beauxbatons per request of their―ugh―mother. Nick quickly pushed aside thoughts of his brother―they'd never been more than a mile apart before, and the absence was unbearable. Twins had a special bond that other siblings just didn't, and Nick missed Chase terribly. If he needed more of a reason to hate their birth mother, this was it.
Hufflepuff didn't seem too bad; Nick certainly liked to think he was loyal, though he'd never really had the chance to test it. Also, he'd overheard from another student that the Hufflepuff dorms were right next to the kitchens, which was always a plus. There wasn't much at all that Nick could find wrong with Hufflepuff House other than the fact that he looked absolutely horrid in gold―another reason he wasn't too big on being in Gryffindor, either.
And then, of course, there was Slytherin. Perhaps in Slytherin you'll find your real friends; those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends. Nick was admittedly good at getting what he wanted, but 'cunning?' 'Use any means'? He was suddenly feeling less and less sure of his belonging here.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," announced Professor McGonagall, who was now holding a large roll of parchment that had not been in her hands a few minutes previously. "Abbott, Hannah!"
Nick watched uneasily as a blonde girl with pigtails stumbled up to the hat and put it on, only to join Hufflepuff a few moments later after the hat declared it to be so. Within the first dozen names, Nick had quickly worked out which tables were which; the one to the far left end of the hall (or far right, if one were facing the teachers' table instead of the grand doors, as Nick was) was Gryffindor, the next one over Ravenclaw, the next Slytherin, and finally the closest to them was Hufflepuff.
Soon, far too soon, Professor McGonagall called out his name.
"Darling, Dominic!"
Nick flinched at the use of his full name but willed his legs, which had turned to some painful mixture of jello and lead while he'd been waiting, to carry him up to the front of the hall. He felt eyes on him, so many eyes staring openly at him, and his heart decided to run a marathon in his chest. He was shaking so badly when he took the the hat that it was a miracle that he didn't drop it. Positively collapsing onto the stool, Nick dropped the hat onto his head, where it slipped down over his eyes and nearly knocked off his glasses. The last thing he saw before his vision was obscured was the flaxen-haired Draco Malfoy peering at him from the crowd of yet-unsorted first year students.
"Hmm… " said a small voice in Nick's ear, nearly startling him out of the wits. It took all he had to not fall off the stool and embarrass himself in front of the entire school, though by the faint snickers, his shock hadn't gone unnoticed. His cheeks grew quite warm as the hat continued to speak in his mind. "Interesting… Not a bad mind, not at all. Strong-willed, I see. Plenty of ambition as well… I know just where to put you ―"
Nick was hardly surprised when, a moment later, the hat proclaimed "SLYTHERIN!" to the entire hall. However, it seemed that everyone else was a bit stunned; besides a bit of sparse applause here and there and the heckles of a pair of red-headed older boys sitting at the Gryffindor table, the room was completely silent. Nick had half a mind to flip the pair off as he shucked the hat and headed for the Slytherin table, but decided that he'd rather not get in trouble on his very first day of school here, so he settled for sticking his tongue out childishly at them. The two boys shared a look and fell silent, and when they looked back at Nick they were grinning.
Feeling a bit uncomfortable, Nick took a seat at the Slytherin table next to a large, bullish girl he recalled to be "Bulstrode, Millicent" and glanced around at his fellow Slytherins. Quite a few of them gazed back at him coolly, appraising him as if he were some sort of jewel―or perhaps as if he were a bug and they were looking for the best way to squash him. Defiant, Nick glared back at them until they all looked away, though he really just wanted to curl up and disappear. Most of Slytherin house seemed to be very high caliber―or at least, they acted as though they were very high caliber. Nick would bet that a majority of them were from wealthy, distinguished wizarding families, like Malfoy.
What was he doing here? He was just a farm boy from small town America. The only reason he was even attending Hogwarts instead of Ilvermorny was because his father was originally from England, and had attended Hogwarts in his day. Nick sighed and stared down at his hands, knitting his fingers together in his lap. His father's ring shone out, silver and heavy, on his right hand.
It was strange for me when I was sorted into Slytherin, Nick's father had said, weeks previously, when Nick had voiced his concerns about being sorted. This was at a time when Voldemort was still at large, you know, and many of my housemates were avid supporters, or from families that were. I felt like the only Slytherin there who didn't care for all the blood-purist hype, despite my being from a distinguished Slytherin family. Things have changed, surely, since my time there, but should you be sorted into Slytherin, never feel like you're out of place. Worry not; you'll find friends as I did, even if they are not in your house.
Sure, Dad, Nick thought glumly, turning to look back at the Sorting.
Draco Malfoy, unsurprisingly, soon came to join Nick at the Slytherin table. He sat on the opposite side with two blokes that were built like boulders―"Crabbe, Vincent" and "Goyle, Gregory", Nick remembered, though he wasn't certain which was which anymore. Draco's gaze swept over and met Nick's for a single heartbeat; Nick offered a smile that wasn't reciprocated, and then Draco looked away.
Nick scowled. It seemed that his first chance of finding a friend was dashed against the rocks. He hardly glanced up when "Mors, Trygve", a hyper kid with curling dark hair and olive skin, was called up to the hat and announced a Hufflepuff a moment later. He hardly blinked when the infamous name of "Potter, Harry" sent the rest of the hall into fits. He hardly moved or said a word for the rest of the night, not bothering to eat much at all―he found that he'd quite lost his appetite. Even when the rest of the hall had started to sing the school song, per request of Dumbledore (and seemingly to the annoyance of the other teachers), Nick remained uncharacteristically solemn.
What a fantastic start to his first year at wizarding school, Nick thought sarcastically as Dumbledore dismissed them back to their commons. What would befall him next?
Author's Note: The name mentioned above, "Mors, Trygve", is a reference to the original story I'm working on. Actually, all three of the original characters in this so far, Nick, his brother Chase, and Trygve, are characters from my book, but I decided to throw them into the Harry Potter world for the hell of it. I dunno how important Tryg and Chase will even be in this fanfiction, but *shrugs* oh, well. I'm kind of making this up as I go, so I haven't a clue what I'm planning for this fic-if anything, really.