Of Smiles and Expectations

I hate conflicts. Sirius apparently loves it, though. Whenever he writes or comes home, Mother shouts and Father scowls. I hate it. Hate it. Hate it. Hate it. Whatever it is he has to say, he finds the most outrageous way to say it so our parents will get in a fit. He must love it. I can't see why. I never know what to do when he's home. If I tag along with him, I get in trouble too. Then Mother looks at me with that disappointed glare, and my heart constricts. Why would I want to do anything that would make her look at me this way? It is so much easier when Sirius is not there. I don't get in trouble when he's at school. Mother never gives me that look when he's at school. Life is just so much better when Sirius is not around to muddle everything.

Did I really say that? Well, it is true, but it is so unfair, too. I love him. He's my brother - an arrogant meddlesome prat, but my brother all the same. Sometime he'll pounce on me and we'll play roughhouse a bit, and then we'll lie on our back on the floor and he'll smile at me. A true smile that reaches his eyes and brightens his whole face. For that moment, that rare and precious moment, we're truly brothers. Then Mother will call, or Kreacher will come in, and he'll close up. If only he could get along with Mother, those smiles wouldn't be so few and far between. Is it really so hard for him? Can't he just keep his big mouth shut and play along? He doesn't even have to believe any of what they say, just nod and keep quiet. Are his friends really more important to him than I am? They must be. I can't help being impressed by the passion with which he defends them. Wouldn't it be great if he'd talk about me the same way? Maybe once we're both at school...

Well, I'll know soon enough. The Hogwarts Express is slowing down. Sirius is calling me. He thinks that I'm asleep. I let him believe it.

* * *

Uh, what an ugly hat! Am I really expected to put that thing on my head? Is this frayed, patched, dirty hat responsible for putting Sirius in Gryffindor? It is revolting to think that such an important decision as the House I am sorted in is left to that. Can't they at least clean it? Oh, now what? It can sing? What a shrilled voice it has. Quite found of itself it is - "a clever hat you will never find." Humph. Doesn't tell anything new: Gryffindor's for the brave, Ravenclaw for the bright, Slytherin for the ambitious, Hufflepuff -. Oups. People stare at me. Sorry, but I couldn't help snorting when it said Hufflepuff is actually good for something. Everyone knows it's the leftover's house. Hey, funny enough - now I know what would be even worse than Gryffindor in Mother's eyes.

The stern witch who welcomed us - Professor McGonagall, I think her name is - is now calling us one by one. I will not have to wait very long, being a Black. There it is, my turn. Argh, do I really have to put that thing on my head? Better not give me head lice! Oh well...

"Hum, another Black. Welcome to Hogwarts, young man."

What a strange feeling, to hear the hat's voice and know no one else hears it. This is between the hat and I.

"Indeed it is, young Black. I can see you are just as disgusted by me as your cousins were."

"Hey, if this is only between the student and you, shouldn't you keep quiet about how my cousins and my brother were? I already don't trust you much, don't go and dig your own grave."

The hat is laughing at me! How dares it? What an unsufferable magic artefact!

"I cannot get one past you, isn't it? Clever and quick, I see. Would Ravenclaw...?"

Ravenclaw? That's Andromeda's house. The way Mother and Aunt talk about her, it doesn't seem to have done her any good.

"Don't worry, young man, you don't have the fabric of a Ravenclaw, anyway. Now, lets see..."

Am I a Gryffindor like Sirius? Do I want to? He'd smile at me if I were sorted with him, I'm sure. Am I ready to go against Mother and Father for a smile of his? Against the whole family's expectations? They told me, before I left: I am to uphold the name of Black. Toujours pur. I am to be a Slytherin. I am to show the Muggle-born what a true wizard is. I am to make them proud. Not like Sirius.

"Remember, young Black: this is between you and I. What do you want?"

Is it really between the hat and I? Once I take the hat off, I'll have to live with the consequences of my sorting in one house or the other. Gryffindor would mean more smiles from Sirius, but being called a disgrace by Mother and Father. I don't want a Howler like the one Sirius was sent.

If I were sorted in Slytherin, the whole family but my brother would be pleased. I'd be with my friends, too. Rabastan will be a Slytherin without any doubt.

Sirius's smiles and Mother's disappointed glares on one hand. Mother's and Father's pride and Rabastan's friendship on the other. Am I ready to put my head in the lion's mouth for Sirius's smiles? I can feel Sirius, Andromeda, Bella, and Narcissa staring at me, even through the hat. Everyone has expectations for me. No, it is not only between the hat and I. Unfortunately, definitely not.

"You've made your choice, I see. Know that you would have fit in both houses, young Black. Now go and join your comrades in SLYTHERIN."

Ah, what a relief not to feel the hat's weight on my head anymore. Light's flooding, it's a bit disorientating. On what side is the green and silver dressed Slytherin table, again? Left? Oh. There, amongst the red and gold: Sirius's condemnation. It hurts. Can't he understand? I'm not like him. Ah, there. Right side, of course. Slytherins are always on the right side, after all. Their cheers are genuine. They welcome me with open arms. It is as should be. I am a Black - a real Black, not like my dozy brother.

He will not smile to me anymore; I know it. I have made my choice. I have to live with it, now.