The Forbidden Four: Year One

Chapter Six - Harry Potter's Anxiety

Chapter Six - Harry Potter's Anxiety

     Harry watched the boy -- Castor was his name -- walk over to the cheering Slytherin table. Now that he thought about it, the house fit the boy perfectly. From what Ron had told him, they knocked down anyone to get their way, traitors, followers of Voldemort, racist, he had heard the most horrible of things about them; and from the way Castor had glowered at him and shoved his hand away when he was only trying to help, he was a perfect fit. Harry wondered for a moment if Castor was with the people who had killed his parents. Robbed him of ever experiencing a true family, was Castor like them? Were all of the Slytheirns?

He tore his attention away from him, his heart only aching the more he thought about it.

     "Granger, Hermione!" Hermione ran over eagerly to the hat, jumping up on the stool and practically forcing it onto her head. Moments later the hat loud out a loud yell, "GRYFFINDOR!" and Ron groaned lowly.

As he watched her run over to the table, earning claps on the back and wide grins, a haunting realisation struck him, his stomach twisting. What if he wasn't placed in a house? What if the Dursley's were right and this just. . . wasn't the place for him? What if he sat there for ages and ages, until Professor McGonagall got sick of it and ripped the hat off his head, telling him to leave and never return? What if he really was just some boy who lost his parents? Nothing special about him, just a lightning scar on his forehead. 

     Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, hearing Ron's name being called faintly as he delved deeper and deeper into the pool of anxiety that was his mind. He clasped his hands behind his back, his face feeling hot, like he would burst into tears the moment something went wrong. He felt like all eyes were on him, like if he made one wrong move he would crumble into the ground. Ron ran over to the Gryffindor table, giving Harry a large smile and a wave as Fred and George squished and pinched his cheeks. I want to be here, he thought, as if the castle could hear him. Please let me stay here.

"Longbottom, Neville!" The boy who had lost his toad ran up to the platform, tripping slightly on his own two feet before he managed to sit down. Not a moment later the hat shouted out yet another Gryffindor, and the boy ran off with the hat still on his head, blushing profusely as he shyly returned it.

     "Malfoy, Draco!"

Harry was getting sicker and sicker, and he was sure his face had to be green by now. The hat didn't even touch the wicked boy's head before it yelled out "SLYTHERIN!" that's to be expected, Harry nodded to himself as he clapped slowly.

     The crowd of first years around him was slowly dwindling, leaving him feeling exposed and quite naked. Nervous sweat dripped down the back of his neck as he counted down the moments until she got to his name, and when she did, he was worried he'd soil his trousers by that time.

"Potter, Harry!"

     Just as Harry had feared, the Great Hall went silent as he stepped forward, feeling like the hat was a million miles away. Don't trip, don't trip, don't trip. Whispers broke out amongst his peers, tension filling the room like a bomb waiting to explode. The closer he got to the hat, the further away it seemed. He blinked quickly, shaking his head slightly to rid himself of the dizzying feeling before taking the last step forward to the hat and plopping himself down on the seat hesitantly. He wouldn't lie, when the hat draped over his eyes, he was slightly relieved that he was unable to see the shocked faces of those around him. His anxiety had gotten the better of him.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a voice speak in his head. "Hmm, Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes -- and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting. . . so, where shall I put you?"
Harry clenched his hands into fists around the edges of the stool, practically screaming one thing in his mind, "not Slytherin, not Slytherin, not Slytherin."