CHAPTER 1: THE COMMON ROOM
Ron, the orange-haired boy, sat on his orange bed with orange sheets and orange hangings and orange posters hanging near his orange trunk. He was writing on a yellow piece of paper, which he thought clashed terribly with the rest of his decor. Harry, wearing all black, sat next to him, writing poems about death and darkness that didn't rhyme. Ron thought this very tacky, and said so. "Harry, black in this room is tacky. You need to wear some white. Clashing is in. Those poems are really too depressing. You should know these things." Ron shook his head and folded his paper neatly into a square, so that it would fit in his khaki pockets. Would Harry never learn?
"Shut the fucking hell up, fag." Harry said, straightening his sunglasses.
"Dude, that's not cool." Hermione said quietly, setting her tie-dyed bag on the table. She pulled out her knitting needles and set to work knitting hemp pants for the house-elves. "Where's the love? And where'd the color go?" she added, grabbing the end of Harry's black shirt. "Be careful, brother, or I'll steal this in the middle of the night and dye it white."
"That's what I told him!" Ron said, looking up from ironing his white shirts.
"Right on." Hermione made a peace sign with her hands and nodded before Harry shoved her off the couch.
"Would you both fuck off? I'm having a MOMENT." Harry hissed, and started writing furiously on his piece of grey paper.
"Oh my God, Harry, where do you get your paper? I've been DYING to find some pink, or maybe even some ORANGE paper. This yellow paper is all bad feng shui." Ron clucked his tongue and walked his neatly folded shirts up to his room.
Harry turned to Hermione. Actually, he couldn't see anything, so he turned to his left before he remembered she was on his right. "What is wrong with that guy?" He asked. "Those bright colors hurt my eyes."
"Dude, you're wearing black sunglasses. How do they hurt your eyes? At least my purple ones let me see."
"What are you talking about?" Harry glared in the wrong direction.
"Whoa! Awesome! I finished another pair of pants! I gotta go give these to Winky. She keeps burning them, somehow, man..." Hermione walked out, her brown sandals slapping annoyingly against her heels.
Suddenly, Harry had another moment, and wrote down a line that didn't make it to the paper because of his black sunglasses: Normal people scare me.