Work Text:
The Sorting Hat had barely called out “GRYFFINDOR!” the day before when whispers about Sirius Black spread through the castle like wildfire.
“Not Slytherin?!” someone had gasped in the hallway.
“Can you imagine?” another whispered. “He’s a Black. He’s supposed to be in Slytherin.”
Sirius, of course, had grinned and flicked his hair, pretending he didn’t care. But inside… oh, he cared. And he had a feeling his mother cared a lot too.
The next morning, the Great Hall buzzed with sleepy chatter.first-years clustered nervously by the tables, still adjusting to their new houses.
Sirius slid into his seat at the Gryffindor table, chin high, hair wild, robes slightly askew. He caught James Potter staring at him, wide-eyed.
“You’re… not crying, are you?” James whispered.
Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Crying? Me? Please. I’m a Black. I don’t cry.”
Then—WHOOOOOSH!
A bright red envelope shot down from a grey owl and smacked Sirius squarely in the chest. It vibrated. Loudly. Threateningly. Like it had intent.
Sirius froze. The hall went quiet for a fraction of a second—everyone sensing the magic.
James leaned over. “Uh… that’s a Howler.”
Sirius stared at the envelope. “…My mother…?”
The Howler exploded.
“SIRIUS ORION BLACK! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! I HAVE HEARD OF THIS OUTRAGEOUS NEWS AND I AM ABSOLUTELY FUMING THAT YOU, OF ALL PEOPLE, ARE NOT IN SLYTHERIN! GRYFFINDOR?!! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING? THINKING FOR YOURSELF? YOUR FATHER WILL HEAR OF THIS, AND I EXPECT YOU TO STRAIGHTEN UP IMMEDIATELY! AND IF I EVER HEAR OF YOU FLIPPING THE TABLES OR PRANKING—”
The scream went on. And on. And on.
Sirius yelped and ducked, narrowly avoiding a piece of toast that had jumped off his plate in surprise. The Howler thumped angrily on the table, vibrating like it had just discovered how much fun it could be.
James Potter was doubled over in laughter, tears streaming down his face. “I think your mom literally just yelled from another room across the country!”
Remus Lupin, sitting calmly, whispered, “That’s… a first-day welcome to Gryffindor, I suppose.”
Peter Pettigrew was pale. “I… I think it’s going to follow him…”
The Howler let out a final shriek:
“AND YOU BETTER NOT EMBARRASS THE FAMILY, SIRIUS ORION BLACK! GRYFFINDOR DOES NOT SUIT YOU, AND YOU KNOW IT! I AM WATCHING YOU!”
Sirius blinked, shaking the last echoes of the Howler from his ears. Then he set his jaw.
“…Fine, mother,” he muttered under his breath. “If this is how you greet your children, then Gryffindor is going to be legendary.”
He looked around at the Gryffindor table, which was now shaking with barely contained laughter. James grinned.
“Oh, mate,” James said, “you have no idea what you’ve started.”
Sirius smirked, picking up his goblet. “Oh, I think I do. And honestly? I’m looking forward to it.”
The Howler sat there, ominously quiet now—but Sirius knew it wasn’t done.
And neither was he.