Sirius
Having become accustomed to his relatives over-doing things to intimidate underlings, Sirius was completely aware that that was the point of at least half of the presentation; the ride in the small boats, the looming (and he had to admit, very impressive) castle, the huge bear of man that met them, this room with its candles and powerful stone-walled solidity, all were intended to awe the new students. "And doing a fine job of it, too," he said just loud enough that the boy to his right glanced nervously at him.
Deciding to be a bit more covert, he thought about what life would be like for the next seven years. He'd be stuck in a pit with his cousins and some strangers who couldn't be much better considering they'd been sorted into that same House. Even that felt better than being at home and being expected to be the good son all the time. Great-grandfather Phineaus had made a point of disturbing his sleep for the past few weeks, mostly to bark snide comments about blood status, family pride, and orders concerning upholding the name. Sirius had finally put a silencing charm on the stupid painting and tossed a muddy shirt over it so he didn't have to look at the sour old curmudgeon. "The foul old prat must have said something to Mother," he muttered, remembering how, two days later, the portrait was completely able to grumble as long as it cared to, no matter what he did to it.
The boy to his right looked even more worried and took a half-step away from him.
At that moment a door swung open and the tall witch that had lead them into this waiting chamber motioned that they should follow. She was quite efficient, a bit stern, and seemed to also be part of the ambiance of impressing the new students. She wore green tartan robes. Normally he'd suppose this meant an affiliation with Slytherin House, but, since his parents had had that Professor over for dinner a few weeks ago, he knew this wasn't the case.
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