Disclaimer: Anything you recognise does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling – I'm just borrowing them all right now. However, anything you do not recognise does belong to me, unless stated otherwise.

Bits and Pieces

By ForeverSirius77

Date: February 2008

Contest/Occasion: MWPP Class: Week II – Sirius Black – Assignment

Title: Just Like Every Other Day … Or Not

Summary: He would wake up and see that his Sorting hadn't happened how he remembered … right?

Warnings: None

Words: 732

Note: This is sort of a continuation from my one-shot, Broken Legacy: A Snake in the Lion's Den, which is basically the story of Sirius's Sorting into Gryffindor. However, it isn't necessary to have read that fic before reading this bit here.

Just Like Every Other Day … Or Not

Bright, early morning sunlight streamed through the windows in the red and gold clad dormitory. The sounds of birds chirping crept through the slightly opened glass panes and attempted to combine their power with the sun's rays to wake up the four young boys still sprawled out in their beds, all soundly asleep as they had been throughout the night.

At a first glance, it seemed like there would be a need for more power (and noise) to wake the boys than the sunlight and small bluebirds provided. The sun shone and the birds sung continuously (and, really, quite annoyingly), but not a single one of the boys made any movement to awaken.

But, just like with everything, the perseverance of nature paid off in the end as first one boy, and then another, started to stir. Morning's sunlight beamed down on the boy nearest the door as he swung open the scarlet hangings surrounding his bed, rubbing his eyes tiredly before picking up his glasses from the bedside table, looking all the while like he would much rather remain under his blankets in the blissful dream world that his mind had conjured.

The next boy to greet the morning did so with a bit more enthusiasm, though nothing that would make him appear as a happy morning person. He lifted his arms for a stretch, squinting his eyes as the sun shone on his face, and ran a hand through his sandy-coloured hair before leaving the bed. A shorter, blond-haired boy was the third to rise, and his enthusiasm could be used to describe him as a morning person. Though not quite 'perky', he was indeed awake enough to not trip over any of the objects around the beds (like the first boy did) as he headed toward his trunk and removed the correct uniform for the day (unlike the second boy, who picked up four pairs of socks and the wrong robes).

Only one more boy had not yet risen from his bed in the Gryffindor dormitory, though he had since left the blissful world of sleep behind shortly after the second boy. The scarlet hangings still hid him from the rest of the world, so the sunlight was not unbearable and he would not be bothered; the black-haired boy was free, for the moment, to keep his eyes closed and feign sleep.

It didn't happen, he thought as he lay there. Last night was a dream, that's it. I will wake up, and the hangings will be green – or, better yet, the Sorting hasn't even happened, and we'll be going to King's Cross later today. The Sorting was just one very vivid dream, that's all it was. Right?

Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Sirius, and just maybe it will turn out to be true.

And he opened his eyes, the bright, red colours of Gryffindor glaring back at the Black heir.

But before the groan of displeasure escaped him, his memories of what happened after the Sorting returned. He had laughed more than he'd laughed in a long time, and he had enjoyed himself. Once the feast had began, he had forgotten all about Slytherin (well, all right, he had mostly forgotten) and realised that Gryffindor wouldn't be so bad —

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the scarlet hangings being torn aside and a bespectacled boy staring at him. "Hey, Black, are you planning on getting up this morning?"

"Yeah," he said, smiling. "I'm awake."

The morning of 2 September was just as normal as every other day in the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. The Blacks arose quite early and breakfast was served in its normal, immaculate manner. Orion perused the Daily Prophet as he ate, while Walburga retrieved the morning's post from Kreacher.

The dainty handwriting of her niece, Narcissa, instantly caught the woman's attention. It must be about Sirius's Sorting, she thought, unrolling the letter to read. But, unfortunately for Mrs Black, the words were not quite what she had expected.

Uncle Orion and Aunt Walburga,

I think there was a mistake with the Sorting Hat last night; that is the only explanation I can think of right now, at least.

Sirius was Sorted into Gryffindor …

Walburga dropped the letter to the floor, turning to look at her husband. Surely she had not seen what she thought she saw, after all …

Author's Note: Well, there's another part to this drabble collection, and unlike several of the previous bits, it's a recently-written one. As I mentioned this story's connection to Broken Legacy, a good deal of Sirius's characterisation in here ties into his characterisation in that previous fic, just so you know. I've always envisioned a young!Sirius as being a certain way; that's how I wrote him in Broken Legacy and that's how I continued in here.

Thank you to everyone who's reading, and please, share your thoughts! A 'Thank You' also goes out to SWChica2005 for reviewing the last bit.

--ForeverSirius77