Killua desperately tries to keep his face neutral despite the sweatiness of his hands and the storm of nerves fluttering in his stomach. Today officially marks the first day of the school year which means the once peaceful corridors will now be filled to the brim with students.
Killua can already hear them coming now. Bisky told him to wait by the front entrance while she collects the students coming from outside. He didn't ask her if he could join them, but he wishes he did. He had to stand alone by the entryway as he watched the students paddling across the lake, only flaming dots on the black expanse of water, and envied them. If only he could be on the lake too. He could imagine it as a tiny adventure. Staring at the pitch-black water and imagining something lurking within. Maybe he could've jump scared a student on the boat and laugh when they yell in fright. Maybe that person could've been Gon.
Killua will hide this fact until the day he dies but he hasn't been able to stop thinking about Gon. The amber of his eyes, the brightness of his smile. If someone were to dissect his brain in this very moment, he would be mortified at how frequent Gon shows up under their gaze. Gon has probably already forgotten about him, it's stupid. And Killua doesn't even understand why he can't get him out of his head. Luckily he doesn't know of any magic that could expose him like that, so he can keep it to himself.
He's not going to approach Gon. In fact, he'd probably prefer him to stay away. Because as enjoyable as it is thinking about him, actually talking with him would be too much for him to bear. Killua will keep his distance. If he doesn't, he won't be able to deal with the pain when Gon finally leaves. Because that's an inevitability.
He shakes his head, and focuses on the incoming students, the nerves bubbling up once again.
He feels jittery to the bones, and if he were to show such nervousness at home he would be rewarded with a poisoned meal if he were lucky, and a week in the isolation room with no food or water if he were not. The footsteps get louder, the happy chattering of fellow first years bouncing in his ears.
He must be calm. He must not show any weakness.
He bites his lip and forces himself not to jump when Bisky and a crowd of students round the corner. Bisky nods a 'hello', but otherwise doesn't acknowledge him at all as she continues leading the students to the Great Hall.
A few students glance curiously at him, a few even smile, and Killua smiles in return, albeit a lot more crookedly. As he follows, he tunes into the conversations around him; the most prominent topic being that of Hogwarts Houses.
"I hope to God I don't get Hufflepuff. I look terrible in yellow," says one boy, his brown hair shaven and short. Killua can't help but agree with him.
"But I heard the common room is near the kitchens!" pipes up another student. "How sweet is that! Being able to get food whenever you want!"
Killua thinks nothing of this boundless optimism until he sees where it comes from. Gon. He is only a few heads in front of him, looking small in his robes. Killua could go up to him right now and talk to him, but he won't. Gon looks busy talking to his friend. Instead, Killua stares as Gon continues to gush about Hufflepuff, every other student fading to the background.
Killua only knows a bit about Hogwarts houses. Hufflepuffs are the pure ones, Gryffindors are the brave, Ravenclaws are the intelligent. And Slytherins are the cunning.
Killua doesn't know how accurate those descriptors are, but stereotypes always come from somewhere.
All he hopes for is for Gon to be in the same house as him.
"I think I'd love to be Gryffindor though!" exclaims Gon. Killua can imagine it perfectly. Gon seems so kind-hearted and headstrong, he'd make the perfect Gryffindor. And then the desire to becomes a Gryffindor too surges through him. Killua thinks he could possibly be one. He risked angering his entire family by coming here. He really hopes he can, but something, deep within, tells him he's a Slytherin. From the moment he heard what makes a Slytherin, their most defining traits: Resourceful, cunning, self-preserving, he knew. But there's still hope. He heard someone say that the Sorting Hat takes your opinion into account.
"What about Slytherin?" the shaven-haired boy asks Gon. "You think you'd want to be in that house?"
Something in the way the boy says 'that house' itches at Killua. He's heard that Slytherins don't have the best reputation, but he didn't think the derision would be so prevalent. Killua bites his lip and switches his attention to Gon, waiting patiently as Gon ponders the question. "I don't think so," he says, not choosing to elaborate.
"I wouldn't want to either! My father says they're a horrible bunch."
The boy says it so confidently, like it's obvious, like every word he says is true. And no one counters him only backing up his statement. Killua waits for Gon, because surely he'll speak up, surely he'll say that Slytherin isn't so bad. But he says nothing.
That proves it. Slytherin is really that bad.
Killua doesn't even know if he's a Slytherin yet, but that fact—the fact that Gon believes Slytherins are horrible, believes they're bad—cuts deep. Something gnaws within him, something like hunger pangs. Killua knows himself. He knows he's bad. He's a Zoldyck, what else could he be. He isn't even supposed to be at Hogwarts. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't have met Gon, or explored the castle, or make it to this first day of school. He doesn't deserve to be here. He deserves to be in the dark cell that Illumi puts him in when he's bad. It's probably wide open, waiting for him right now.
His spiralling thoughts are cut off by Bisky stopping them all, with stern eyebrows and a firm "Shhh!" He doesn't have the thought to do anything but obey, as does everyone else. And then she opens the door.
Killua is hit immediately with the image of hundreds of students packed within staring at their huddle of scared first-years.
Killua has seen the Great Hall before. He loves staring up to the ceiling to see a sky instead of a roof. It makes the space less confining. But it's even better tonight. It's beautiful. A dark starry night looks down on them, lighting every first-years' eyes up with wonder.
He's so busy staring up at the sky that he bumps into the back of a student in front of him who has suddenly stopped. He mutters a 'sorry' and looks up to see what stopped them.
There's the sorting hat. Ancient and plain placed on a stool. It will seal Killua's fate.
A name is called, and a nervous girl goes up. It's quickly followed by a shout of "Ravenclaw!" and an applause. Then another girl goes up, then a boy. It takes five students' names being shouted for Killua to realise they're going in alphabetical order by last name.
Something twists in his gut at what that realisation entails.
Killua will be one of the last to go up, possibly the very last. And he feels more exposed with each person's name being called, the bundle of students waiting getting smaller and smaller.
When Gon's name is called, time slows down. Gon essentially skips up to the hat, so unlike the nervous kids who hesitated their approach. Gon doesn't look worried at all. Perfectly content. Killua's heart bursts just looking at him. Killua wishes he could be like him. And when the Sorting Hat is placed on Gon's head, his expression doesn't waver, a pleased smile lining in his face. A split second later, the Sorting Hat roars "Gryffindor!"
Gon's face breaks into a wide grin that Killua wishes he could capture in his mind forever and then he claps along with the rest of the hall as Gon makes his way to the Gryffindor table.
It was expected. Gon really is the perfect Gryffindor. The Sorting Hat didn't even have to think for a second.
A warmth fills Killua for a few seconds, happy for Gon. It evaporates as soon as the next person is called upon, and Killua remembers his turn is yet to come.
He has to bite his inner cheek to stop himself from shaking when the second-to-last person is called, leaving him alone in the middle of the hall.
"Killua Zoldyck!"
He freezes, his heart almost stuttering to a stop. The Hall goes deathly silent and not one person moves. There's no scraping of chairs, no shuffling of feet, no mischievous student talking to their friend. Only a suffocating blanket of silence, and the penetrating stare of hundreds of people on him at once. It's paralysing.
Stop being so weak. If you can't even do this, you're useless. Get up and go.
Killua somehow gets his limbs to work and makes his way toward the manky-looking hat, which stares at him menacingly from its position on the stool. Killua's movement is like a trigger. Suddenly, the whisperings of hundreds of people start at once. It would almost be comical how in sync they are if it weren't for it being him on display. Killua can't make anyone's words out, but he can imagine what they're saying. There's no room for positivity. He's a Zoldyck, meaning he's a dangerous, lethal and ruthless wizard, and he's sure they all have quite a lot to say about it—he shouldn't be here, he should be expelled, he should go before he hurts someone.
Killua can't help but agree with it all.
Despite that, he doesn't care about what they think either. He doesn't care about their hate. He only cares about one person's opinion.
He doesn't let himself look for Gon at the Gryffindor table. He couldn't bear what he could possibly see there. As Bisky places the Sorting Hat on his head, Killua shuts his eyes, and then a voice, as real as anything, as if it were right next to him, echoes in his ears. "So you want to be a Gryffindor, eh?"
Killua's mind screams yes. Killua would do anything. He wants to be with Gon. Even if the boy hates him now for being a Zoldyck.
The voice chuckles. "Ah, such a sweet reason, poor boy. You've been through a lot, haven't you?"
Killua thinks that's an understand, earning another laugh from the hat.
"Yes, quite. Your desires are quite clear. But I have to insist. Slytherin is the perfect house for you."
But Killua doesn't want Slytherin. He thought the hat took wishes into account. He thought all he had to do was ask.
"That's true. I do take a student's requests into account. But that is only for the more difficult cases. You are not one of those. If it weren't for you screaming Gryffindor in your head, I would've called Slytherin out in less than a second."
No.
"You should be proud of your passion to change. Desire is the first step to achieving greatness. And you will be great in Slytherin, Killua. I wish I could grant your wish, but there is no other house for you. I see you. I see your mind, your thoughts. You're not a Gryffindor. No matter how much you want to be. You are a Slytherin through and through."
Killua doesn't get a chance to respond. The roar of "Slytherin!" sounds through the Great Hall before Killua can argue back, and then the hat is ripped off his head, greeting him with the sight of hundreds of students staring at him.
No one claps, no one makes a noise, and the world seems hazy as he wobbles down the steps. He's a Slytherin, so much so the hat couldn't even take his opinion into account. That just proves it. If Killua is a Slytherin, that means he's bad, and horrible, and doesn't deserve to be apart of a group so good Gon is apart of it.
Killua is taken out of his thoughts by a burst of clapping. It's loud in the otherwise silent room. Killua's heart falters when he sees where it's coming from. A lone figure stands clapping, grinning at him like Killua being placed in Slytherin was the best thing in the world. Gon.
It's embarrassing how unashamed and oblivious Gon is clapping for him. He's clapping so loudly and unabashedly, with a grin on his face that could make flowers bloom. Killua can feel the back of his neck and cheeks heating into volcanic temperatures as Gon continues without sign of stopping. Killua can't deny the flutter of happiness that ricochets throughout him. Gon clapping like this means everything. It means that Gon doesn't care about any of it—he doesn't care that Killua is a Zoldyck, he doesn't care that Killua is a Slytherin, he doesn't care about the students currently snickering at him. Gon single-handedly has switched Killua's entire mood. It's almost too much. But Killua feels himself smiling back at Gon anyway.
Gon stops clapping eventually when Bisky shooshes him, but he doesn't look happy about it. He pouts as he sits back down at his seat. It makes Killua grin. He doesn't know much about Gon, but he can tell Gon is stubborn, never-backing-down type.
Killua sits at the end of an unhappy looking table of Slytherins. A few congratulate him out of politeness and Killua finds it in him to nod and thank them back.
Gon's ridiculousness plays in his mind again and again, bubbling throughout him so that he feels warm and giddy. He's so happy he doesn't even care that he can now hear every student's derision so clearly around him:
"Of course, he'd be put in Slytherin. He's a Zoldyck after all!
"I heard that the Zoldycks can speak Parseltongue, there's no wonder he's a Slytherin."
"I'm surprised the hat took so long to decide, it was a no brainer."
"What was up with that kid clapping? What a weirdo."
Killua's blood boils at that last comment, but it gets lost in the crowd. Eventually the chatter dies down when Netero stands to give a speech, but Killua's not listening. He's not focusing at all, not even when the feast appears. He just watches Gon, who sits two tables away from him eat his own food up like a pig. It's disgusting but for some reason Killua's not disgusted. He didn't know it was possible to think those two things at once before. An unfamiliar but not unpleasant feeling settles in his chest as he watches Gon happily eat and talk to the students around him. Killua wonders if Gon knows how bright he is, if he knows how much his smile can affect people. Killua watches and wonders for a long time and before he knows it, the night has ended, and students are getting up to leave the hall.
Killua loses sight of Gon amidst the wave of moving students and is ushered into a group of fellow Slytherin first years by a bored looking teen with a badge on his robes. Everyone seems tense, hesitant, and Killua knows why. He catches a few students sneaking a glance at him. They're subtle, he must give them that. But he knows what they're thinking; he's a threat.
Killua doesn't worry about having to protect himself, he could beat them limbless. But the thought that he might not ever be comfortable here, that he might not ever have friends here, because of their fear of him, saddens him to a degree.
The rest of the night goes by in a blur. He acts cautious and distant to protect himself, so much so that by the time he's in his green bed, staring up at the green ceiling, surrounded by green curtains, not a single soul has spoken to him.
He can't help but wonder if Gon would.
Killua almost dozes off in a warm haze, thoughts of Gon replaying in his mind, happy despite the fact he doesn't share a house with Gon. It would've been such a nice sleep. Which is why he so wishes he could've forgotten Gon's reaction, or more specifically his lack of reaction, to the shaven-haired boy saying Slytherins are horrible. The memory strikes Killua right down to his core. Gon didn't deny the claim, he didn't protest a single word.
Yes, Gon clapped for him. But how genuine can his actions be when he never contradicted those words?
Killua stares up into the darkness.
Why would Gon do such a thing? Why would he clap in front of everyone if he thought such a thing? Does he have some ulterior motive?
Maybe Killua was wrong to trust him. Maybe he was wrong to become so caught up in Gon's brightness he forgot to protect himself. He told himself he would avoid Gon, but Gon was just so bright he couldn't help but stare.
He should've known. He should've known he didn't deserve Gon.
He's bad, after all. His status as a Slytherin just proves it.
Shattered, Killua falls into a restless sleep.