Authors note: I do not own any characters created by J.K. Rowling. Full credit goes to her for all situations and information mentioned in any of the 7 books or interviews, etc. as well. However, the storyline of this fanfic is all me and the little voice in my head.
*year 1 - age 11*
"Gryffondor!"
I watched as the boy started smiling.
I'd read about this
The house of the brave, of those with plenty of courage and a right amount of rule-breaking tendencies.
And now I'd be one of them.
And apperently so would he.
I remembered him and his friend from the train.
They'd seemed nice.
Him more quiet than his friend, his friend just a tinge more… Irrational than him.
But nice none the less.
Most people here did.
That boy with the white hair, I'd heard him being nasty at the redhead, actually was rather polite when he spoke to me.
When I told him who my parents were, he suddenly left though, but oh well…
Those two bulldozers who, apparently, went everywhere he went, didn't seem a bit nice though.
Nor did they seem to have anything filling their heads…
It was the redhead's turn now.
I saw three more boys with the same red hair and freckles sitting at the table where I sat, looking a bit nervous.
Almost as if they were waiting to jump up at the least sound, at the very first word, whether that be good or bad, glad or angry, proud or upset.
I noticed the redhead had seen their expressions too – he now looked positively terrified.
They probably were family, and obviously very eager to have him in the same house as they all were.
The boy frowned, and then looked utterly relieved.
And indeed, mere seconds later:
"Gryffondor!"
A new home.
Hmm, for once I don't really have anything to say (and that IS special :D) so I'll just keep it to this: please let me know what you thought in a review, by following, by favoriting. Or you can just do all of those. Till the next update, I do great you!