When the old, dingy hat called out, "Black, Sirius," Sirius was not nervous. He knew he would be sorted into Slytherin like the rest of his family, even though he felt a little strange about it. He walked confidently up to the stool, keeping his head up. He didn't want to make a fool of himself, so he sat down as poised as possible. Mcgonagall set the hat gently on his head, with a thin-lipped smile. Sirius' head was filled with the loud menacing voice, that wasn't exactly talking to him but more inside of him. Ah, interesting. A pureblood. As a matter of fact, it's a Black! Obviously a Slyther-hm...something odd about this one...a fierceness, a boldness, that must be… "GRYFFINDOR!" The room fell silent. Sirius' stomach dropped. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He felt himself stand up, leaving the had on the stool, and drift towards the Gryffindor table, a sea of red and gold. They stared at him coldly, barely making room for him to sit. Sirius already had Slytherin robes. He had cheered for the Slytherin quidditch teams when he was younger. He was born a Slytherin. What would his parents say?