Norvel glared at the floor sullenly as he made his way towards the Hufflepuff table, something akin to a pout plastered on his face. Things definitely weren’t going his way today – not that he had a problem with the house he’d been sorted into – but his parents had just abruptly decided without him that sending him off to one school while the rest of his friends were sent off to who knows where was a good idea. That, for him, was definitely enough to dampen the mood for… a while, to say the least.

He’d tried to cheer himself up with mild success on the train ride on the way to Hogwarts, but the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to do something ridiculously reckless just out of frustration. So he’d just stuffed those thoughts into the back of his mind for now. (…Not that they’d stay there for long, anyhow.)

The announcements the headmistress had made earlier all flew right over the boy’s head as he’d gazed blankly at some of the Gryffindors who’d been making a ruckus. Something about Weasley products…? (He'd been able to pay at least some attention during the sorting ceremony, but now he was just starting to feel bored.) Norvel was pretty sure none of this concerned him anyway, so he’d zoned out for a while as the headmistress prattled on and on about rules... the Forbidden Forest... staff members...

Then he zoned right back in as the smell of food reached his nostrils. The boy perked up with alarming speed and started to shove all manner of food onto his plate. When he finally looked up, he realized some of the other first years were moving to other tables. Norvel gave them a rather suspicious look, but didn't say anything. Were they really allowed to do that, or were they just breaking the rules…? (Not that he was against breaking the rules or anything, he reassured himself. He’d break the rules if his friends insisted they had to, but otherwise, he wasn't particularly working towards breaking the rules, either.) 

He eventually decided to just stick to the Hufflepuff table. [i]Right,[/i] he thought, expression lighting up as he eyed the other first years at the table, [i]Uh… friends. Yeah, friends. Um…[/i] Norvel wasn’t particularly picky when it came to friends (pretty much anyone would do, actually) so naturally, he shuffled towards the first person who looked talkative enough and tried his best to slap a smile on his face. (Although it did come out looking more like a really thin, forced one. Maybe even a grimace is you looked closely enough.) “Hey,” he said tentatively as he took a seat beside Alex, eyeing her curiously, “You’re a first year too, right…?”