He is the epitome of a Gryffindor, all reds and golds and loud mouthed passion.
Some people, the Sorting Hat must hesitate over, picking between one house or another.
Not him. He was put in house almost before the Hat had touched his head. And no one had ever doubted where he would be, not even him.
He is the spirit of Gryffindor. He hates Slytherins with bordering on irrational hatred, but at the same time he has an incredible capacity for forgiveness. He's gentle and strong and loyal, blindly, stupidly loyal. He'd walk into the throne room of Voldemort himself if his friends asked him to, and he'd never question the wisdom of it.
He also wouldn't look past his own superficial judgements. His world came in exactly two colours, black and white, and he couldn't see the shades of grey that made the world a real place. It was naive and bull headed and so typically Gryffindor that I could expect nothing else from him.
Life has kicked him a lot but he keeps going and keeps on proclaiming how great life is, except when he's stuck in Potions and trying to avoid blowing up his cauldron. He's proud, not prideful, and strong willed to his own detriment.
And more than that, he looks like a Gryffindor. He looks like he was woven out of the the banner. All gold skin and red hair and freckles. He burns in the sun, but he still manages to be a pale gold, like sunlight on the marble floors.
He is the spirit of Gryffindor. For better or worse.