Tresses of Fate

As Professor McGonagall, the venerable Deputy Headmistress, took her place at the head of the Great Hall, her usually stern expression softened imperceptibly as she surveyed the sea of expectant faces before her. But when her gaze fell upon Harry Potter, a brief flicker of surprise danced across her features—a testament to the unexpected deviation from the description provided in the papers, also from what she had seen of the boy as a babe
The Sorting Ceremony commenced with the age-old ritualistic fervor that had become synonymous with Hogwarts. Names echoed through the hall, each one met with fleeting glances and hushed whispers from the assembled students. But when Harry's name resounded in the cavernous space, a collective gasp rippled through the crowd, sending a wave of incredulity coursing through the assembled masses.
"Is that truly Harry Potter?" whispered some in hushed tones, their voices tinged with disbelief. Others couldn't help but marvel at the unconventional spectacle before them, their curious gazes lingering on the boy with the fiery locks.
Or:
Harry Potter looks much more like lily than James, and that changes everything.