"Sirius, your letter is here."
Sirius Orion Black, a handsome boy even at the age of eleven, looked up from his food at the breakfast table. His mother, who was a rude woman he didn't particularly like, was holding out a manila-coloured envelope with green scrawling on the front.
Sirius Black, 12 Grimmauld Place, Kitchen Table.
"Finally," Sirius muttered to himself, but his younger brother overheard.
"Finally what?"
"I can get out of here and go to Hogwarts," Sirius whispered. His mother walked out of the room, so he raised his voice a tad. "I can't take it anymore."
"Why not, brother?" Regulus asked, his chin quivering a bit.
"I don't know how I feel about these people anymore. I think they're getting into Dark stuff, and I don't think I want to be a Slytherin anymore."
"But all Blacks are Slytherins, silly."
"Not me," Sirius replied confidently. "Anything but, actually. Hopefully."
"Besides," the nine year old continued, as if he hadn't heard his older brother, "Slytherin is a wonderful House. Cissa and Belle are there, remember?"
"And they're a prime example of wonderful people," Sirius said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
"And mudbloods are blood traitors are in the other Houses," Regulus told him, and Sirius's jaw dropped.
"What? Reg, it's wrong to think they are any lesser than us. They're people and witches and wizards, too." Clearly his parents had influenced the boy more than Sirius had initially thought.
Regulus frowned. "Their blood is dirty, Sirius! That's what Mum says, and I believe her."
Sirius just stood there, blanking staring at the wall, thinking that September 1st couldn't come soon enough.