Agyness had to stop a cackle from escaping her mouth. So Potter had finally met his match, it seemed. Ariadne Malfoy was quite the fiesty prude, and Agyness had never had the urge to keep civil conversation with her. Agyness knew that she herself was vain, but Slytherins were the epitomies of conceit. They simply oozed vanity wherever they went, leaving the scent of it behind. As for Potter, he definitely wasn't as bad as the Slytherins. But in Agyness's eyes, his ego was definitely too big for his britches. Scroungy little Ginny Weasley had fallen for him, but to Agyness, it seemed as if Harry had secretly longed for a woman of higher standards, knowing that he could catch bigger fish if only little Ginevra would release her iron grip. That was Agyness, always reading between the lines and analyzing people down to the brittle bone. Maybe Ariadne and Harry would make a lovely little couple, after the shock of the hat's pronouncement had subsided.

Neville's jaw dropped along with the rest of the Hall. Harry and a Malfoy? Impossible! He turned to look at Ginny, his expression conveying the deepest amount of sympathy that he could nonverbally muster. He knew that they were head over heels for one another, and by the looks of it, Ginny was split between being crushed and being ready to crucio the Malfoy if she dared step forward to claim Harry at that moment. Neville's expression quickly changed when McGonagall barked his name. "Me?" He squeaked. McGonagall swiftly nodded, promptly Neville to quickly rise from his seat.

He shuffled across the stone floor with his eyes glued to the ground, his face already reddening as he felt the eyes of many transfixed on him. It didn't help that the situation brought back embarrassing memories of when he was a mere boy of eleven, the Sorting Hat having been so big that it had fallen over his eyes. He even recalled feeling the lump that was Trevor in the pocket of his cloak, trying to keep the toad still as he sat in front of the entire student body while being judged.

Those memories quickly faded as Neville took a seat, McGonagall jamming the hat on his head. As if a twist in fate, this hat was now a bit too small for his large head, causing McGonagall to pull at the brim with force to keep it situated on his noggin. Neville was breathless for a moment, his heart thumping as he knew that the hat couldn't possibly pick anyone for him. Neville was a clumsy knight, his damsel in distress being herbology. He was married to his hobby; how could a woman possibly fit into the picture?

"Luna-LOVEGOOD!" The hat roared.