Disclaimer I don't own Harry Potter or any of J.K.'s characters.
The entire Hall was silent after the Sorting Hat called out Gryffindor. Everyone was in shock. The small black haired child walked to his table with out a sound. He just sat down and put his head on the table. He was in no mood to answer questions. Then, as though nothing odd happened, the teacher began to read names once again.
The boy knew that he was in trouble.
He knew he was different but he never knew why. At eleven, something like that was impossible to explain; you had to live it. And the boy had just lived it. He looked up just as a redhead was sorted.
Later, during the feast, he could hear people whispering about him. How could a child that came from a family so evil be sorted into Gryffindor? If it weren't for the fact that he was a First Year, he would have left ages ago. But he just sat there; he listened to the whispers. He didn't even say a word; not even to the redhead.
He just wanted friends. But while a lot of people looked at him, no one said a word to him. It might have been better to stay at home. There, at least, he had someone to talk to. He really wanted to talk but being who he was he didn't know how.
He was very isolated when he was younger. He was told to stay from other children, though he didn't understand why. The only reason he could think of was that his family was putrid. That was obvious though. He didn't know how to react to other kids his age.
At first, he thought he was going to be homesick. But that wasn't the case he was just lonely and scared. He needed someone. Anyone.
When he looked up again he saw that the feast was winding down and everyone was looking quite tired.
Then the headmaster rose to make his speech and spoke of forbidden areas and forbidden items. It seemed quite normal, especially for the known eccentric professor. Then he sent them all to bed. It was normal.
Up in the dorms, the boy still hadn't said a word. But sitting across from him was another dark haired boy. He wanted to talk to the unnaturally quiet boy.
"Hey Black, what's your story?"
"Nothing you would understand Potter."
"Then why don't you try me."
The boy, Sirius Black, just smiled at James Potter and knew that he had a friend.