I just imagined Sirius being called out to sorting and the hat getting ready to shout SLYTHERIN! almost before even touching one of Sirius’ hair - just like it has done for every Black and Malfoy for centuries- and then suddenly all he hears is this eleven year old thinking “Don’t you fucking dare”
And the Hat is like.
“Well. That’s a ballsy move if I ever saw one. Your family’s going to murder you.”
“I don’t care,” Sirius mutters under his breath.
“Well, if you’re sure…better be GRYFFINDOR.”
The Hall is dead silent as this skinny little eleven year old marches to the Gryffindor table and sits his ass down.
There’s muttering at the Slytherin table about it having been some kind of mistake. At the Gryffindor table too. McGonagall gets the Sorting back under way, and people are a lot less interested in who’s under the Hat now–everyone knows about the Ancient and Noble House of Black by their second year, and the batch of confused first year Muggleborns is being educated rapidly by their pureblood and halfblood peers.
James Potter goes up–there’ve been two more boys Sorted into Gryffindor, three girls, and the Lions barely remembered to cheer–and to the shock of absolutely no one, gets Sorted into the House of the brave as soon as the Hat touches his head, just like the rest of his family. It’s the first thing that’s really gone to plan so far.
He hands the Hat back to McGonagall and proves his Sorting almost at once when he sits down next to Sirius and raises his voice to be heard over the resumed Sorting when he says, “So you got Gryffindor just like you wanted, that’s great! Ignore those tossers,” he continues with a broad gesture to the Slytherin table, where almost Sirius’ entire family is glaring at the pair of them, “they’re just sour.”
“No shouting during the Sorting, Mister Poter,” McGonagall says.
“Yes, Professor,” James says, and immediately turns back to Sirius.
Sirius lets James needle him into a grin, and James scowls pointedly at the rest of Gryffindor House when Sirius’ back is turned, dragging the other boys from their year into the conversation as soon as food is placed out.
McGonagall feels what a more superstitious woman would call a premonition of doom.
(via lilypcttr)
