Aaaaand I'm back with another fic. I managed a drabble!

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This was written for some Hogwarts stuff (where I am a Slytherin... Hiss hiss)

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Marauders Map:

- #163 The Ministry Press: (object) Newspaper

- #59 The Great Hall: (setting) Sorting Ceremony

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Button Bonanza Yellow #2. Great Hall

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Writing Club:

- Character Appreciation #26: (Location) Hogwarts

- Lyric Alley #12: So just let me be myself

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Warnings: Very slight hint of a poor home life, and general people being rude, judgy people.

Summary: As a member of the Black family, Sirius has quite the roll to live up to; frankly, Sirius doesn't care about his roll... he just wants to be who his is.

Word Count (excluding a/n): 698

Rating: Probably K... maaaaybe K+ but I don't think so

Unexpected

"Black, Sirius!" Professor McGonagall's voice called out, and all the students present seemed to quiet down, curious about the fate of the boy from the infamous family.

Sirius took a deep breath before he walked to the stool, feeling the eyes of Hogwarts on him with every move he made.

He heard the whispers too:

"The Blacks are all menaces—"

"His mother is mad—"

"Privileged pureblood—"

"He'll be in Slytherin. All Blacks are—"

It was enough to drive anyone to the brink of insanity, but Sirius just clenched his hands into fists and sat himself on the stool, not daring to glance at Professor McGonagall—she was sure to have just as disproving of a look set into her face, just like everyone else.

You're afraid of something, a soft voice sounded out, seeming to project straight into Sirius's mind. It wasn't his own conscious, so Sirius let himself assume that it was the hat that had just been placed atop his head.

Everyone is afraid of something, Sirius replied, closing his eyes, his feet awkwardly propping up on the sides of the stool—it was too tall for him to sit with his feet on the ground.

The hat chuckled softly, the sound reverberating throughout Sirius's head. True. Are you scared of what your mother would do if I don't put you in Slytherin?

Sirius's muscles tightened; he wouldn't deny that he was afraid of that… of her. Yes, but I'm more afraid of losing myself if I were to be put in Slytherin, he thought, forcing his body to relax. Hogwarts has been a place where I've dreamed of being myself, so let me be myself.

But of course. "GRYFFINDOR!"

The hall was silent; nobody clapped, aside from the polite applause from the professors and a few prefects; nobody had been expecting this. Sirius straightened his spine as he stood up, his chin raised slightly.

He walked to the Gryffindor table with pride, but he didn't talk to anyone. He didn't even look at anyone.

"Black," a voice said to his left, and Sirius turned his head to see a young boy with hazel eyes, a large grin, and horribly messy hair.

When they made eye contact, the boy's smile grew. "About time. I've been trying to get your attention for… five minutes, wouldn't you say Lupin?" the boy said, looking past Sirius, who turned his head to see a boy with tawny curls and more than one scar.

"Sounds about right," Lupin said, giving Sirius a small smile before turning to his plate of food.

Sirius frowned; when had food appeared?

"Professor Dumbledore told us to dig in, and you're just staring at your empty plate," the first boy explained, taking initiative and beginning to fill up Sirius's plate for him. "Anyways, my dad made it into today's Prophet. Want to see? Pettigrew! Pass it back!"

A boy who was sitting across the table looked up and nodded, his straw-colored hair bouncing slightly with the movement. "Sure," he said before leaning over the table and passing a newspaper to Sirius, who took it just a little hesitantly—it was open to a story about Fleamont Potter and an award he had won for creating the best haircare potions.

"He's been showing everyone he has met since getting on the train," Lupin said, and Sirius turned slightly to look at him before turning back to the newspaper.

"You're the Potter boy, then?" Sirius said carefully, praying he didn't say the wrong things. "I'm not supposed to talk to you. You and your family would be a… bad influence on me."

Potter laughed, filling up a cup of pumpkin juice and setting it in front of Sirius. "Who told you that?" he asked, his eyes bright.

"My mother," Sirius replied softly, turning to look the boy, a shaky smile on his lips.

The boy raised an eyebrow, placing another roll on Sirius's plate. "You gonna listen?"

Sirius narrowed his eyes just slightly, though he couldn't hold it for long—he only saw sincerity in the other boy, and sincerity was something he craved. "No. Call me Sirius."

"Siriusly?" Potter said, his grin widening. "I'm James. Let's take Hogwarts by storm, eh?"