"Sirius Black!"
The boy shook back his hair and strutted his way to the three-legged stool at the front of the Hall. He didn't even have to guess what the Sorting Hat would say: he, like every Black before him, would join the house of Slytherin.
Professor McGonagall regarded him coldly as he sat down, grinning confidently at the waiting Hall. Then it was dark, and a voice was murmuring in his ear.
"Oh my," said the Hat despondently. "Another Black. Well, considering your genealogy, there's hardly even room to contempl- "
The Hat stopped abruptly, and, for a moment, silence filled Sirius's ears like a storm. But the Hat continued presently.
"Oh dear," it said, completely disconcerted, "I've almost made a mistake." Sirius wondered, heart pounding, what kind of a mistake the fabled Sorting Hat might've made. Responding to the boy's thoughts, the Hat explained calmly, "Why, I almost put you in Slytherin. Just goes to show that I, too, must consider before making a decision, does it not?" Sirius caged his breath, the word "almost" sending ripples in his mind, like a stone thrown into water. "Now that I look into it," continued the Hat, "there's no doubt about it, really." Sirius breathed again. It would be alright – the hat obviously meant that he'd be sorted into Slytherin, like everyone else.
"GRYFFINDOR!" screamed the Hat, shattering the silence. McGonagall raised it, to reveal a pale, horror-struck Sirius, eyes wide with shock. Gryffindor!
"Stand up, boy," said McGonagall, though she looked surprised too, with her eyebrows so close that they almost formed a line.
Sirius stood and dragged his unwilling feet towards the Gryffindor table. Some of the students around it, who hadn't heard of the infamous Blacks (Mudbloods all of them, thought Sirius), were applauding. The rest just stared. He sat down with his hands in his lap, yearning to disappear, to leave no trace. His relations were watching him, he knew, over at the Slytherin table. Of course they would. He had been the heir, the pride of their noble house, and now he was sitting at the wrong table, a black mark against the family.
He didn't even notice when another first-year boy landed on the seat next to him, and when another boy sat opposite to that second one, Sirius ignored him. When the two boys presented themselves as Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, Sirius gave them a morose look, and hung his head again. It wasn't until another boy joined them that he raised it again.
The boy sat down opposite to Sirius, and considered him carefully. Being a pureblood, he had obviously heard of the obnoxious Blacks. But, after all, the boy reasoned, he did get sorted into Gryffindor.
The boy held out his hand across the table. "James Potter," he presented himself, smiling kindly at Sirius.
Sirius stared for a moment at the outstretched hand of James Potter. He had been told of the Potters, but only that they were enemies of the Blacks, and mudblood-lovers to boot. This Potter, however, didn't look like an enemy. The Black pride screamed out in him for a moment, but it was silenced by the whispering ambers of a new beginning.
Feeling the glare of generations of Blacks on his back, he shook James's hand, winning smiles from all three boys.
"Sirius Black."