A/N: Although this one-shot is consistent with the timeline set up in my other story, "The Tragic Kingdom", you don't have to read that fic in order to understand this. (Unless you really, really want to please the author and take a look at it anyway. :D )
As always, constructive reviews are appreciated. Enjoy!
"Black, Sirius!"
The child in question gathers all the courage he can muster and walks towards the Sorting Hat, giving his walk an extra swagger as he gets closer. (His father used to scold: "It isn't right for a boy, let alone a Black, to seem fearful in front of strangers," and sometimes Sirius, even at eleven, still believes his words.)
Clambering onto the stool, he takes the hat from Professor McGonagall and jams it over his eyes, waiting for his fate.
"Oh ho!" the Hat remarks in Sirius' ear, as if he's just won a prize, "Another Black, eh?"
"No," Sirius retorts, snappish. "Not another; I'm not the same, I'm not just like them,"
"My mistake," the Hat replies coolly. "Though you're certainly not unlike a few of your relatives. Hmm …there's courage aplenty, I see, and intelligence…but Ravenclaw won't do…ah, and cunning as well—"
"Not Slytherin," Sirius thinks, gripping the edges of the stool with desperation; it's as if the thought has been building in his mind for years. He doesn't even understand where the words come from, but saying them – or rather, thinking them – even if it's just to the Hat…feels right.
"Not Slytherin, eh? Interesting; you could do well there, you know."
"Anywhere but Slytherin." Sirius insists quickly, before he amends the thought. "Well, not Huffle--"
"No, it isn't for you, either," the Hat snits, as if he's heard it all before. "And don't insult the other Houses."
"Sorry."
"Quite. Now let me think….you're impulsive…reckless, even…bold…" The Hat pauses, addressing Sirius directly. "You want to prove yourself, yes?"
"Yes." It's all he's ever wanted.
"Be different from your kin? Make your own way in the world?"
"Go on! I'm not afraid," Sirius whoops, although his stomach clenches with nerves.
The Hat laughs in an affectionate manner. "Good luck, my boy," he says, just before shouting "GRYFFINDOR!"