You Asked For It

The Sorting

It was strange to feel Strykers usually steady hand shaking in mine. I guess something made him nervous, but I knew better than to ask questions about his family. I thought I was doing the right thing. But I guess not. I heard a very old witch call my name and went up to the stool. I placed the old beaten hat on my head and at once its voice wrang in my head.
"Ah young Lily Potter, so glad your back. And finally getting sorted. Now let's see. Very difficult. You remind me of your Father. I had problems sorting him too. Brave and daring but there is something else." The hat said.
"I swear if you put me in Gryffindoor not even Merlin will be able to save you." I thought.
The hat chuckled.
"You are quite something Lily. I believe you will be very interesting."
I waited for a moment. No sound came. I had been sitting here for at least 5 minutes. Great a hat stall. I'm one of those kids.
"Come on just say Slytherin." I thought.
"You asked for it. SLYTHERIN!"
No clapping rang through the hall. I sighed and took a seat under the green banner. I swear I'm dads double. Open moths began to close and heads turned back to the stool where Stryker sat. Whispers of 'Dracos kid' began to circle around me. I notice everyone at the table shift and lean away from me, and toward Stryker. He looked like he was going to faint. But the hat went on his head on not 2 minutes later it open the seam that was its mouth and yelled...
"GRYFFINDOOR!"
No claps wrang through the hall. No one spoke or moved. The air itself dared not move. Stryker just sat on the stool, too petrified to move, looking like he was living a nightmare. I saw him cast a glance at me and I saw the old witch walk up to him. Take off the hat and speak while gesturing towards the Gryffindoor tables. Stryker did not move. The hat now off his head he sat there, white knuckles clutching the stool, shaking, wide-eyed and petrified. I didn't care about the other students. I didn't care about the rules or customs. I ran up to the stool and gently placed a hand on Stryker's shoulder. His wide empty eyes turned up to look at me. Fear was printed into every feature on his plail face.
"Stryker, come on, let's go outside for a while."
I'm still not sure if he heard me or not. I pried his frozen fingers from the stool, took his hand in mine, and ignoring the whispers from the other tables, led him away.