He's nervous enough, when he's called up to the front of the hall, to wonder if maybe this was a mistake after all, if the adults he could barely understand had gotten something drastically wrong and he wasn't meant to be here at all. 

Interesting, says the hat, and it's strange to hear his own language in that accent. A hunger for knowledge, you could do well in Ravenclaw — but a hunger for knowledge. And a hunger for so much else. 

It pauses, thinks. At least, Sasha hopes it's thinking, and not realizing that he shouldn't be here after all — there's so much here to see and learn and achieve. And it means his parents won't have to worry about food or British schools for him. 

Could do well in Hufflepuff, too, the hat says. 

"I don't know what that means." He tries not to sound irritated about it, it isn't like not understanding is a new experience. He can deal with it. 

Hmmm. The hat sounds like it's a difficult choice. ...Better not Ravenclaw, then. Slytherin wouldn't be easy for you, but it's what's right. 

"I can deal with things not being easy," Sasha tells it. 

And when the hat declares "Slytherin!" to the hall, the table in green claps for him, and Sasha pretends that he believes he belongs here, pretends he's walked all his life with his head this high.