Hold - d.m

003 - poor unfortunate souls

Valerie Margo Moreau
October 4th, 1999

I have to put this fucking sorting hat on my head.

Reckon it has lice?

It better fucking not or I'll sue the school.

My shoes click against the smooth floors of the great hall, an echoing sound that almost makes me wince.

My brain is thinking about a thousand things, settling on a thousand directions as I make a first impression.

First impressions.

They mean everything.

Keep your head high, I tell myself silently. Keeping your chin down will show nervousness...fear, even. And teenagers in a competitive, war-beaten school like Hogwarts....they can practically taste it on their tongues.

Keep your mouth closed. Don't gape at the arching windows or the long, dark wood tables that fill the room. Act as if nothing surprises you. You've seen it all. You've done it all. Nothing is new and nothing is impressive.

Back straight. Don't slouch. Height is an advantage when it comes to the last strand. No matter who you are, your skill, your strength; height is power. And power is...well power is fucking magnificent.

No smiling or blushing or making any type of eye contact. Don't give off signs of friendliness lest someone try to come up and speak to you. You speak to people first. You initiate the conversations.

My mind swirls and repeats over the countless "rules" that I've formed overtime to keep myself at my best, analyzing them and adjusting them for the current situation I've found myself thrown into.

As I reach the medium-sized stool that sits between the teachers and the students, I finally take a look out into the crowd. A churning mix of green, blue, red, and yellow blare before me like a sickening rainbow. From what I had heard, Hogwarts separated the students into Houses, and that was the group of people that you spent almost every waking moment with. But from what is presented to me, it seems everyone sits together, for the most part, creating an odd spectrum of colors save the cluster of green seated at the left-most table.

Rosy-cheeked and crooked-toothed children from young to old stare up at me invitingly as if hoping to get the chance to meet me or even speak to me. Like that's gonna ever happen. My eyes narrow as I scan the crowd from the stool, sitting down elegantly, ankles crossed and knees pressed firmly together, trying to find the group of people I'd like to surround myself with.

Not like I can't leave them when I want to.

From my center stage spot in the great hall, I can truly appreciate the beauty of it all. Although my face never lightens with that sweet astound, my lips never twitch into what could be translated into a sort of smile, and my head doesn't tilt back to get a better look at the magnificent ceiling above me, I still feel a sort of exhilaration at being in a place as striking as Hogwarts.

The ceiling is a starry night sky, blanketed in a deep blue that would normally cast an eerie shadow onto the great hall if not for the hundreds of candles floating along the ceiling. They bob up and down softly as if suspended by a broken spell.

The candlelight is dim in the room, but it's enough that I can observe the different facial expressions that cross the different students starting at me. The ones in blue gaze at me with concentrated, calculated faces, as if trying to solve something or another.

Like I need fucking solving.

The red-clad students seem interested, if not a bit too interested as I hear a whistle from two of them in the crowd. My head darts, unnoticeably, to find the culprits, eyes landing on two, tall boys.