“Slytherin!”

The rainbow-head tugs the hat off of his head, ignoring the hat’s strangled coughs and chokes of “so much peroxide” and “chemical dye causes brain damage, you know” in favor of smirking proudly and slinking over to the table where other smirking, proud-faced douches sit.

Chanyeol wrinkles his nose. He’d hate to be forced to be one of them. He gazes longingly at the Gryffindor table, where they’re all smiling and laughing and happy.

“Hufflepuff!” the hat shouts at a wide-eyed little thing who bursts immediately into tears.

“Not so loud,” a nearby teacher chastises. The hat’s tip bows in apology as the newly-declared Hufflepuff pulls it off and sets it on the chair.

“It doesn’t even make sense for us to have the same houses as Hogwarts,” one of the girls whines.

“Professor Smentley was a Hogwarts graduate; he tries to keep their traditions alive here.”

The next in line steps up onto the stage. “Hmm,” the hat says as it is perched on the head of dark hair. “Ravencl-”

“Gryffindor,” the boy pleads, eyes turned upwards as he repeats the word again.

“Alright, alright- Kim Jongin, welcome to Gryffindor.”

“Park Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol stares blankly at the teacher who had called his name for a moment.

He steps onto the stage, tripping slightly on the edge of his robes.

The hat snorts. “We’ve got ourselves a Hufflepuff, I think,” it says to a nearby professor, who prods it in the mouth to shut it up. The table of Hufflepuffs should look indignant at the blatant insult, but instead they are all trying to mop up three goblets of spilled pumpkin juice that had been knocked over. It is placed on Chanyeol’s head as soon as he sits down, and he notes with a wrinkle of his nose that it’s rather damp from all the sweaty heads it’s been on.

“Oh,” the hat utters. “Well, well, well, Mr. Park, I do believe you’ve proven me wrong. Gryffindor!”

Chanyeol breathes a sigh of relief, happily making his way over to the Gryffindor table where he is greeted by a smiling pair. He glances down at each of their robes, noting the purple Prefect badges pinned above the nametags labelling them “Hwang Tiffany” and “Park Leeteuk”. They find him a seat right by Jongin.

“Aren’t you glad we’re not them?” Jongin leans in to ask, finger discreetly pointed at the Hufflepuff table, where one of the fourth-years has eaten himself unconscious.