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PostPosted: Fri Jun 05, 2020 3:14 pm 

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Harry genuinely believed Malfoy would have cursed him, had the doors not swung open; Harry himself jumped at the sound, the context making him expect the snap of a spell rather than the hammering on wood.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry had seen the tension build in Malfoy's shoulders and jaw, yet eventually amounting to nothing. In that moment, his brain already starting to cloud with adrenaline, all Harry could think about was whether or not Malfoy sat feeling unresolved; as if he had held in a sneeze.
With his heart in his throat, Harry finally straightened his posture, resting his forearms against the edge of the table. Getting Malfoy out of his immediate line of sight did help to eliminate one source of nauseating anxiety. Now, with his view of the Great Hall having improved, he found that the source of his nausea was his inability to meet Hagrid's eye.
Hagrid, who Harry had kept in touch with and had remained, for decades, Harry's first friend, beamed at the sight of Harry at the high table. Harry himself felt like death, unable to even direct his eyes towards the man, let alone the parade of children than followed him. Awkwardly, Harry's eyes instead dipped to his plate.


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PostPosted: Sun Jun 07, 2020 1:14 pm 

This body is a vessel for my mayhem and as long as I can perform bafoonery it doesn’t matter if this stomach is flat or not

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Draco did not at all feel done with the conversation, but he felt that it was probably for the better that he didn’t get to say more. After all, he didn’t really have anything to say to Potter, not anything either of them could do anything about at least, so there really was no reason for him to blow up in his face. Still, Draco also knew that it was going to be difficult for him to hold his tongue, especially if the two of them were going to be spending a lot of time together, thus he really hoped that they would be able to avoid one another as much as possible.
Instead, he kept his gaze locked stiffly ahead, watching as a long stream of young kids entered the great hall, every single one of them clearly intimidated by what was about to happen. It served as a nice change of focus for Draco and he was pleased that he had something to look at that wasn’t Potter.

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PostPosted: Sat Jun 27, 2020 10:14 am 

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Harry shifted minutely but restlessly. He found it hard to steady his gaze on something to ease his nausea, finding it too uncomfortable to actually look at the children. As they, inevitably, started gathering at the base of the high table, Harry finally succumbed to the mindless instinct of covering his face.
Harry's right arm bent at the elbow, thumb supporting his head by the chin, knuckles brushing against his lips as he leaned his weight forward, effectively turning his head slightly towards the left and the center of the table. The gesture wasn't out of the ordinary - if anything, it was so mundane for the gravitas of the sorting, that made him feel disinterested.
Though his gaze was vaguely directed at Malfoy, Harry's eyes only properly regained focus when McGonagall stood up to address the students.
This intuitively made Harry straighten his posture, meaning his face momentarily lifting an inch away his hand. A decade after last having seen McGonagall as acting headmistress, Harry was still taken aback by the commanding nature of her presence. Just as seamlessly as she had made the room go quiet, she had effortlessly cussed Harry out. As quietly as possible, Harry once again let his hand fall to the table.
"Welcome -" she smiled "- to Hogwarts. Welcome to our first years, and to all returning - welcome back."
The way her voice carried across the Great Hall made the hairs on Harry's neck stand. Harry's nerves were on his sleeves, and as McGonagall went on with her reception, Harry wasn't sure he was cut out for this position. Harry felt little sense of familiarity towards the castle, finding that they had grown to be strangers after the Battle; Harry didn't feel like he was included in either of the two groups, McGonagall had welcomed.
"- to which, I urge you to direct your attention to Professor Hagrid," McGonagall was concluding, once Harry yet again regained his hearing. Hagrid, who had replaced McGonagall in the task of sorting the new student body, was beaming. In one hand, he held the sorting hat, a scroll listing the students' names in his other.
"Professor, if you will," McGonagall urged once she had resettled in her seat.
Clearing his throat, Hagrid spoke, clearly despite the heaviness of his accent. "Alderton, Harry!"
Hearing his own name being called out, Harry was struck by such a severe sense of vertigo, he felt like his heart might give out. It had completely knocked the air out of him, as he, in one nauseating heartbeat realized which generation he was facing. Peering up at him were children born in the immediate wake of the war, though most of them were born before it even culminated. As if he had been faced with too-familiar ghost of children he had never met, Harry's vision went foggy. This time, however, Harry found himself unable to look away from the boy being sorted.


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PostPosted: Wed Jul 08, 2020 4:36 pm 

This body is a vessel for my mayhem and as long as I can perform bafoonery it doesn’t matter if this stomach is flat or not

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It was impossible for Draco to not notice Potter shifting in his seat, something clearly making him uncomfortable in the scenario, yet Draco had no idea what that was actually all about. After all, it was just a sorting ceremony, one the both of them had witnessed several times in their life, though Draco a lot more than Potter, so there really was no reason for Potter to be one edge the way that he was.
However, a potential source of discomfort appeared to Draco as the newest student approached the sorting hat. He wasn’t the first Harry who had appeared after the war, but Draco did also realise that it was probably going to be a lot worse from now on. The generation that had survived the war, having had their lives saved by Potter, had gotten children and those children were starting to become old enough to be at Hogwarts. It made Draco’s stomach turn as well, unsure how he himself felt about it in the first place.
It was such a strange thing to know that people were going to name their children after people he knew, people who were still alive, yet people they had elevated to some kind of hero status, just for doing what they had been forced to do.

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PostPosted: Tue Jul 28, 2020 3:13 pm 

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Harry found that, once having allowed himself to look, it was hard to look away from the sorting. Despite his growing discomfort, Harry kept meticulous track of the familiar names appearing on Hagrid's list, by tapping a finger onto the tabletop. By the time the last student had been sorted, Harry's eyes were glassy and he had tapped a total of 11 times.
5 students starting Hogwarts this year had been named Harry and two girls by the name of Hermione had both been sorted to Ravenclaw. Alongside them, Harry had watched Neville, Ginny and Albus cross the floor to be sorted. Too nauseous to stomach it, Harry hadn't tapped whenever the name Ronald had been called, though he knew in his heart three boys named Ron had enrolled this year.
The final tap was a boy named Cedric, and beyond that, Harry had lost count.
His finger had stopped mid motion, hovering an inch above the tabletop and Harry finally felt his heart break. Above all, Harry was touched, overcome with a sense of gratitude as his eyes welled up with tears. Every other familiar name felt crude, too on the nose and up close. He was, however, happy to witness that name being honored.
His eyes followed the boy as he seated himself by Slytherin house, and Harry found himself deaf to the remaining 10 sortings.
Having quickly grown tired of the task, as it only seemed to upset him, Harry shifted his posture, finally managing to look away from the child being sorted. Aimlessly turning, Harry glanced at Malfoy, barely seeming to remember where he was, awkwardly trying to regain a moment of clarity.


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