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Aug. 20th, 2012 10:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
witticasterJames was only barely acquainted with the options when the Sorting Hat fell down over his eyes, but he thought he had them well enough to make a decision. Before he could mumble his opinion to the Hat, however, it spoke to him. It was no less unnerving than when the Sorting Song came slipping from its gash-like mouth.
"Your mind's all made up, isn't it?" said the Sorting Hat, a tickling little voice in his ear. "You don't have to be a Ravenclaw, you know. I can see quite a bit of Gryffindor in you."
"I'm not brave," James said automatically. If he were brave, he wouldn't be the same person at all; everything about him would be different, from the way he carried himself around his peers to the things he allowed other people to do.
"No one's taught you the difference between cowardice and cautiousness." The Hat made a tsk, tsk noise, almost as though it had a tongue hidden somewhere in its patched old fabric. "I'm afraid I haven't the time to do it myself. Are you sure you don't want to be a Gryffindor?"
"Quite."
"Then I think it'll have to be RAVENCLAW!" The Hat bellowed James' house out, and his new housemates welcomed the announcement with cheers.
As he walked over to join them, his own wizard's hat under one arm, James felt a strange warmth spreading through his chest. It was joy, strange and alien and unbidden, the pure pleasure of being wanted, regardless of how superficially.
"Well done. Hathaway, was it?" asked one of the older students, a bright-eyed girl with masses of dark curly hair and a prefect's badge. Other boys and girls congratulated him as he passed, all smiling as though they really were pleased just to have him in their House.
James nodded mutely to all of them and sat down at the nearest bit of free bench. Across from him was one of the other first-years, the only boy James had ever seen who was paler than he. His face was too thin by half, and though his hair was dark, there were thin, silvery strands running through it. Buoyed by the gay expressions on his other housemates' faces, James held his hand out across the table. "James Hathaway."
The boy stared at James' outstretched hand as though he'd never seen a handshake in his life. After several awkward moments, just before James decided to give up, the boy reached out and gingerly shook his hand once. "I'm B-booth."
"Your mind's all made up, isn't it?" said the Sorting Hat, a tickling little voice in his ear. "You don't have to be a Ravenclaw, you know. I can see quite a bit of Gryffindor in you."
"I'm not brave," James said automatically. If he were brave, he wouldn't be the same person at all; everything about him would be different, from the way he carried himself around his peers to the things he allowed other people to do.
"No one's taught you the difference between cowardice and cautiousness." The Hat made a tsk, tsk noise, almost as though it had a tongue hidden somewhere in its patched old fabric. "I'm afraid I haven't the time to do it myself. Are you sure you don't want to be a Gryffindor?"
"Quite."
"Then I think it'll have to be RAVENCLAW!" The Hat bellowed James' house out, and his new housemates welcomed the announcement with cheers.
As he walked over to join them, his own wizard's hat under one arm, James felt a strange warmth spreading through his chest. It was joy, strange and alien and unbidden, the pure pleasure of being wanted, regardless of how superficially.
"Well done. Hathaway, was it?" asked one of the older students, a bright-eyed girl with masses of dark curly hair and a prefect's badge. Other boys and girls congratulated him as he passed, all smiling as though they really were pleased just to have him in their House.
James nodded mutely to all of them and sat down at the nearest bit of free bench. Across from him was one of the other first-years, the only boy James had ever seen who was paler than he. His face was too thin by half, and though his hair was dark, there were thin, silvery strands running through it. Buoyed by the gay expressions on his other housemates' faces, James held his hand out across the table. "James Hathaway."
The boy stared at James' outstretched hand as though he'd never seen a handshake in his life. After several awkward moments, just before James decided to give up, the boy reached out and gingerly shook his hand once. "I'm B-booth."