HOGWARTS — After weeks of anxiously awaiting the Hogwarts sorting ceremony, young Harry Potter was elated to finally be in the great hall awaiting that glorious moment.
“My mum told me if I get put into Hufflepuff I might as well just kill myself. I reckon she was only half-joking. Both parents were Ravenclaw so I’ve got my fingers crossed.” whispered fellow first year Terry Boot.
“Potter!” called Professor McGonagall snarkily.
Harry stumbled awkwardly up to the stool in front of the Great Hall hoping to Merlin he wouldn’t be put in Slytherin. The sorting hat was placed gently atop his head.
“Not Slytherin. Not Slytherin,” whispered Harry to himself.
Not Slytherin eh? Hmm.. let’s see.. you’re hard-working and loyal, but that’s about all I can see. You’re not smart enough to be a Ravenclaw and you’re too big of a pussy for Gryffindor. If you were more of an asshole I’d throw you in Slytherin but you are truly just a middle-of-the-pack type of kid. You’ll likely end up a secretary at the Ministry or a bartender somewhere in Diagon Alley. Better be… HUFFLEPUFF!!
“Fuck me,” Harry whispered to himself as he found a spot at the Hufflepuff table next to the most average looking and annoyingly content kid he’d ever seen.
“Hey, guy! Welcome to Hufflepuff! Name’s Justin Finch-Fletchley. Wanna play some Mancala in the common room later?”
Mancala? Jesus Christ. I’d rather lick Ollivander’s wrinkly ballsack than play fucking board games with this douche.
After the rest of the Hufflepuff house fell asleep, Harry broke into Snape’s storeroom and nicked a kilo of black tar heroin.
Not including Christmas Holidays, this should be enough until after I get through my O.W.L.s. Not like those will matter anyway since I’m destined for mediocrity.
“Incendio! Well, I guess this is my fucking life now,” sighed Harry cynically as he began to melt his first hit over a rusty cauldron spoon with his wand.