“Please stop that!” I say to my mother as she tries to fix my hair for the umpteenth time.
“You are a Black! I will stop when your hair looks presentable,” Walburga says whilst continuing her incessant adjustments, “You need to represent our family with pride and dignity. I will accept nothing less.”
“I still don’t see what’s wrong with it!” I say defensively. I happen to like my hair, thank you. I think it makes me look rather like a stud.
“What’s wrong with it, you ask?” she snaps angrily, “No son of mine will have their hair sticking up in all directions! Look at little Regulus,” She gestures toward my younger brother who stands quietly beside her. “His hair looks dashing.” She looks at him with what should be an affectionate smile, that is, if she were capable of that emotion.
Deciding there is no point in arguing, I just stand there, letting her “fix” my hair and any other imperfection she spots. I’ll be lucky to make any friends at this rate, everyone is going to think I’m a Mummy’s boy. If only they knew the half of it.
While waiting for her to finally be finished, the shrill noise of a train whistle fills the air. It must nearly be time to go! Yet, here my mother is, trying to straighten my tie. I loathe ties. I’ll be sure to be rid of it as soon as I’m out of her sight.
“Mother, that loud noise we just heard means I have to leave.” My tone is sarcastic, not the smartest thing to do. Walburga doesn’t take kindly to sarcasm. She shoots me one of her trademark angry glares.
If looks could kill, I would be dead right now.
“Walburga, I think the train is about to leave, you best let the boy go,” my father says in a bored tone, not looking at either of us, but rather staring off vaguely in the distance.
“Oh all right, all right. But just remember son, Toujours Pur.” She says our family motto with such pride. Why this is, I’ll never know. Personally, I don’t see why being a Black is something to be proud of. But I’d never dream of saying that to her. If I did, I’d probably have to endure an hour long lecture on the wonderfulness that is our family.
The Hogwarts Express lets out yet another whistle, pulling me back into reality. I nod my head at whatever my mother is saying, and then mutter my goodbyes. Walburga pats me on back, as does Father. Obviously, we don’t have the closest of relationships. I shake hands with Reg and then board the Hogwarts Express for the first time.
~
Is there any compartment that isn’t full? I swear, I’ve been looking for nearly a quarter of an hour and it seems there isn’t a single place for a kid to sit around here.
I make it to the last compartment, fearing that I may not have anywhere to sit, when I see that there is only one occupant. A young boy who looks my age, with dark messy hair and glasses. I slide open the door and take a seat. The boy looks at me, probably surprised I didn’t ask first before I sat down. Though, it’s not like there was anywhere else for me to sit.
“I’m Sirius,” I say, holding my hand out to him.
Instead of being perturbed by my abrupt entrance and introduction, the boy seems rather amused. He smirks and shakes my extended hand, “I’m not.”
I let out a loud, boisterous laugh. “I meant my name is Sirius.”
The messy haired boy laughs in return. “Oh, well in that case, my name is James. James Potter. Are you in first year too?”
“Yes, I most certainly am.”
“What house do you think you’ll be in? I’m rather nervous to be sorted myself,” James asks.
“Slytherin,” I say with finality, though there is a distinct bitterness. I don’t want to be, but there is no way I won’t be. Walburga’s only told me every day of my life that Black’s are always in Slytherin.
Always.
“Slytherin? I’ve heard they’re a right nasty bunch. You don’t seem nasty,” James says skeptically, giving me a once over.
“Well, I’m a Black. There’s not a single one of us that hasn’t been.” As soon as I say this, a knowing look sweeps his face. It’s well known in the wizarding community that Black’s are the Slytherin elitists.
“What house do you suppose you’ll be in then?” I ask with genuine interest. Not everyone is predestined, like myself.
“Gryffindor. Anything other than that would be catastrophic. I’m pretty sure I’ll get in though, I’m the bravest eleven year old in all of England!”
I smile sadly. If only I had a chance at being a Gryffindor.
~
By the time we make it to the Hogsmeade station, James and I have become fast friends. We played Exploding Snap, ate half the treats on the trolley, and pulled some pranks on this little red haired girl. I believe her name is Lisa? No, that isn’t it. Hmm, Lucy? Nope. It was a flower… Lily! That’s it. Her name is Lily.
I’m not sure why James insisted on bothering her, but it was fun nevertheless. Not to mention, she’s not too sore on the eyes. James even went so far as to call her a babe. She did not appreciate that too much. That one’s temper is as flaming as her hair, I tell you.
We are having such a good time bothering her that we don’t even realize the train has stopped. We quickly retreat to our compartment, gather our things, and exit the Hogwart’s Express.
Upon exiting the train, I see an extremely large man calling the first years to follow him to the boats. At least I think it’s a man, he’s so large that he may not be human.
James and I go with the rest of the lot and get into the boats. There’s a boy in the boat we choose. He has sandy blond hair, a few light scars, and a timid smile. He says his name is Remus Lupin.
“Why do you have all those scars?” James asks him.
Remus turns a light pink color in the cheeks. “Oh, those are nothing. My mum’s cat is mad, attacked me just last week.”
Hmm, a mad cat? Better than a mad family, I suppose.
“That’s rotten luck mate,” James says sympathetically. Remus smiles with what looks like relief.
“It’s not so bad” He says simply.
When he doesn’t say anything else on the subject we move on to more important topics,such as which Quidditch team is going to win the cup this year. We all agree that the Irish have a good chance, but I also argued that the Russian team is doing really well. I guess we will just have to wait and see.
Somewhere between talking about Quidditch and throwing stink pellets at the greasy haired boy with Lily, we have made it to the entrance of the Great Hall.
An intimidating looking woman walks towards us. Her pace is brisk, but somehow her rather large hat stays perfectly in place.
“Hello students, I am Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor house. Gryffindor is one of the four houses at this school. The other’s including Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.” The professor seems to say Slytherin with a bit of contempt.
Is it really that bad?
She continues to talk, “You will walk in silently, single file. Once we have reached the front of the hall, you will be sorted. You’re house will be like your family during your years at school here. Please sit at the respective table for your house after being sorted. Any questions?”
McGonagall talks quickly, not giving anyone enough time to ask their questions before turning and opening the door. “Good, now let’s go.”
Stepping into the hall, my eyes instantly travel to the table with green and silver banners are hanging overhead. I see a handful of my relatives sitting there: Bellatrix, Narcissa, and Andromeda. Out of the three, the only one I can stand is the last. Bellatrix is a prick, and Narcissa is well, a narcissist. I’d wager she spends more time in front of a mirror than I spend eating.
I wave to Andromeda, relieved that I will have at least one person I like in my house. She smiles back warmly, mouthing the words “I’ll save you a seat!” I nod back gratefully; Andy has always been good to me.
“Who’s that?” James whispers in my ear.
“My cousin. The only decent one that I have,” I reply, frowning slightly. Surely it is not normal to only have one family member you can stand? Well, I guess Uncle Alphard is all right, but I don’t see him much…
My thoughts are interrupted when I realize the sorting hat has already been brought out and sung it’s song. James says it mostly described the houses and how we need to be united, and blah blah blah. Not very interesting.
Professor stands up with a role of parchment, ready to read off the names of the first years.
“Aubrey, Bertram.”
After about a minute of silence, the hat yells out, “RAVENCLAW!”
He scurries off to the Ravenclaw table with a smattering of applause.
“Avery, Typhon.”
A shifty looking boy walks up, instantly being placed in Syltherin. The hat hardly even touches his head.
“Belby, Anthony.”
This boy is sorted into Ravenclaw as well. Oh no. My name has to be coming up soon. I feel a little warm. Is it hot in here, or is it just me?
“Black, Sirius.”
Oh Merlin. Oh Merlin. I think I’m going to vomit. I don’t want to be in Slytherin. I’m happy here, standing by James, holding onto the little bit of hope that I might be the Black that’s different.
So I stand there. I just stand there, looking like a complete fool. It isn’t until a full minute later and many throat clearing noises from McGonagall that I actually make it to the chair.
She places the hat on my head as I sit, waiting to hear my fate.
“Hmm, a Black I see. Well, the obvious house for you would be Slytherin.” I let out an audible sigh; my worst fears are being confirmed.
“But, you’re different than your family, aren’t you, boy? Yes, there’s a lot of knowledge in here, and a large amount of ambition. Undoubtedly, you’re a very brave boy. Yes, yes. This is a difficult choice.”
A soft murmur of talking begins to fill the Great Hall. Everyone must have think my sorting would have been done within a matter of moments, but it’s been about four minutes and I’m still sitting here.
“Hmm yes, I’ve made up my mind. Your path, I feel, is different than those in your family. It’s up to you what you do with this information, but remember, even those who come from darkness can find the light.”
Before I can figure out what any of this means, the hat shouts out which house he has chosen.
“GRYFFINDOR!”
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