Neville Longbottom's Sorting Ceremony by FargoLevy, literature
Literature
Neville Longbottom's Sorting Ceremony
"Longbottom, Neville!" Professor McGonagall called.
Neville walked shyly down to the three-foot stool in front of the Professors table. He felt incredibly nervous.
When he finally reached Professor McGonagall and the stool, he sat, and he saw momentarily all of the faces in the Great Hall looking at him. He felt the hat being put on his head and slipping to his nose, covering his eyes. The only thing he could see now was the inside of the hat.
"Hmm very interesting " a voice said in his ear. "I have no doubt about you You would give a great Gryffindor."
Gryffindor? Neville thought. I'm not a Gryffindor! I'm not brave
A cloud of oil-black smoke drifted ashen over the horizon, like a spilled ink-pot gone ignored. The air tasted of burning, thick and greasy, like the inside of a restaurant where soap was only a myth. Hundreds of thousands of little sharp grass points bit into his feet at some point, his boots had come off during the run, and he'd just kept running, and running, to avoid having to look back and think, learn, understand.
In the ovens, great big bloody clouds of burned-up human belched out to join the great big bloody clouds of already burned up humans. His stomach clenched, disgusted; and Crowley skidded to a stop, clutched his hand at