The Sorting Ceremony (2nd year)
Regulus stood inside the Great Hall with the rest of the first-years. He and Sirius were separated on the platform just after Sirius had hugged him tightly and wished him good luck. Thankfully, he didn’t have to speak to the others as Hagrid had rushed all first-years to follow him down a cobbled path.
Now his brother and his friends were already seated at the Gryffindor table. Regulus tried not to stare at them, how they all laughed and joked together. It made his heart ache to watch them, knowing that he and Sirius were forced to avoid each other for the whole semester, and practically for the rest of their schoolyears in Hogwarts.
He kept his posture straight, choosing to stare stubbornly ahead instead, where Professor McGonagall was standing, wearing deep blue velvet robes and about to begin the Sorting Ceremony. Above her head, white feathers floated serenely, almost imperceptibly. She moved forward and placed a brown, worn, pointed hat on a stool, bowing slightly as she stepped back. Regulus watched as the Sorting Hat inhaled a sharp breath that charged it back to life.
“It’s about to sing,” said a girl on his left, she and her friends whispering nervously.
Regulus barely noticed them. His attention was entirely focused on the Sorting Hat; a seemingly harmless patchwork of fabric and stitches, however, with the power to soon define his future. The Hat shifted slightly on the wooden stool as if trying to find a comfortable position. It made a gravelly sound like it was clearing its throat—supposing it had one. Then, music filled the room.
When the founders were still young and strong
And magic filled the air
They built this school over these hills
A home beyond compare
But each one had a different plan
On how young minds should grow
So I was stitched to see it through
To show the way you’d go
Ser Gryffindor, a lion’s heart
Heroic, brave and bold
He sought the ones who’d face their fears
Whose spirits can’t be sold
If trouble courses through your veins
And courage’s what you prize
Then welcome to this daring House
Where flames of glory rise
Fair Ravenclaw of charm and grace
With eyes sharp and keen
She praised the minds that soared on high
In search of truths unseen
If knowledge is your path in life
And doubting is your way
The eagle guides you through the dark
Where thoughts like stars will stray
Proud Slytherin of cunning wit
His eyes shone with might
He cherished those whose whispered plans
Could turn the darkest nights
If desire drives your every step
And secrets make you whole
Then seek the serpents and they’ll lead
To ambition, pure as gold
Lady Hufflepuff, loving and kind
Her hands were warm and wide
She valued commitment, fairness too
And those who dare to try
If patience, friendship, and trust you seek
And loyalty’s your creed
The badgers will open their doors for you
And you shall serve and lead
So place me now upon your heads
And I will judge your hearts
I’ll see the dreams within your minds
And guide you from the start
For Hogwarts serves all those who dare
To thrive and to be free
But which House calls upon your name
Sit down
And you shall see
Everyone applauded. The sounds gradually faded and Professor McGonagall raised a hand. One of the floating feathers shot down on her palm and transformed into a piece of parchment.
“Abbot Laura,” she called.
Regulus searched around, his eyes landing on a short girl who approached the stool, practically shaking. Professor McGonagall brought the Hat on her head.
“HUFFLEPULL!”
Another round of applause. At the staff table, Regulus could recognise some of the professors; Pomona Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff had stood up to congratulate the first student of her House. Next to her was Horace Slughorn, Head of the Slytherin House, Valentina Morales professor of the Defense against the Dark Arts, Qadar Shafiq professor of Astrology, and in the middle of the table was Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster. Beside the stool, McGonagall waved her hand again, another feather landing and reforming into parchment.
“Ashbrook Dona!”
The girl rushed to the front of the Great Hall and the Hat was lowered onto her blonde hair.
“GRYFFINDOR!”
Cheers and shouts, once again. Gryffindors were particularly loud in comparison to the other Houses, Regulus thought. But of course, they were. Students of Godric Gryffindor had the same personality traits; most of them were a menace, some were born rebels, others were destined to be leaders, but they all shared the same mischievous smiles and stubbornness. They were untamed like lightning and thunders drummed through their veins, or so it was said.
On the next row, there were the Hufflepuffs. Regulus observed them briefly. They all seemed friendly and easy-going though everyone knew they were strong and steadfast. They had large hearts and even bigger courage to match them, and they stood absolute for what they believed to be right. That was a common trait they shared with the Gryffindors though Hufflepuffs were less self-righteous and more humanitarians.
Ravenclaws and Slytherins were more alike than people thought them to be. Regulus could tell because some of his distinct pureblood relatives who had married into the Black family were from Ravenclaw. Rowena and Salazar were both intelligent above average, quick-witted and intellectual and had a thirst for knowledge, and so did their students. But Rowena chased knowledge as a form of self-fulfillment whereas Salazar was known for his ambition and his will to conquer whatever was far from his reach.
Despite their differences, the four Houses had many similarities. And where one lacked something, another would make up for it. That was something the Sorting Hat knew better than anyone. It was aware that some students had multiple traits that could fit into several different Houses, but at last, it chose based on which traits were more dominant.
The procedure went on for several minutes. Regulus closed his eyes, counting backwards from ten, again and again, as more names kept getting called and more children rushed to the stool and then to the tables of their new Houses.
“Aspen Penelope!”
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
“Bell Antonia!”
“RAVENCLAW!”
“Belfort Jonas!”
“GRYFFINDOR!”
“Bexley Marcus!”
“RAVENCLAW!”
“Black Regulus!”
The Hall quieted.
Regulus cast a quick glance at Sirius who smiled encouragingly. This was it. His moment of truth. He raised his chin high and started moving towards the stool with trembling legs, the world and the voices around him blurring.
As he sat down, Professor McGonagall lowered the Hat on his head and everything plunged into darkness. A voice echoed in his mind. Regulus thought that if time itself had a voice, this would be it; deep, and mysterious, like it held all the answers in the world.
“I’ve seen you before. Last year,” it said and paused. “No, no that’s wrong. You’re a Black. But this was your brother.” It paused again before saying, “You have the same aura.”
Regulus pressed his eyes shut. “I’m nothing like Sirius,” he thought fiercely.
“But you are,” the Hat replied. “Same fire, same resilience. Your brother burns for freedom. What do you burn for, young Black?”
Regulus stilled, thinking. “I need to prove myself,” he said in his head.
“That’s very bold of you,” the Hat mused. “You know who favours the bold.”
He stiffened. “I don’t belong in Gryffindor. I can’t be there.”
“And why not? You’d do well there. Courage is not always about rebellion. Sometimes it’s about loyalty, in yourself above all.”
“Don’t,” Regulus interrupted sharply. “Don’t put me in Gryffindor.” His hands gripped the edge of the stool beneath him. “My family—”
“Ah, yes, your family. I see it now. The Blacks. Slytherin’s proudest bloodline…” The Hat trailed off, searching into Regulus’ mind. Images of his mother flooded his brain against his will. “A heavy burden you carry.”
“I won’t disgrace them.”
“Is that what you want? To prove yourself to them?” it challenged. “Are you so certain your desires are your own?”
Regulus tried to even his breathing as the Sorting Hat kept weighing what lay deep inside his soul.
“You despise failure, yes. Deep down though, you crave something greater. I can feel it. Something even you might not understand, yet.”
“Place me in Slytherin,” said Regulus firmly. “I’ll thrive there.”
The Hat paused, considering. “You’re calculating, careful, ambitious. Cunning too, though not in the same way as some. I am not certain yet…”
“Last year you made a mistake,” Regulus snapped. “Now, you are going to fix it. Place me in Slytherin.”
That Hat laughed, low and whispery. “There’s a quiet strength in you that’s more Gryffindor than you realise. You can’t see it but I do. As do the stars, child, born in Leo’s season.”
Anxiety fizzed through his veins. He had to convince it. If he’d be placed in Gryffindor now, just like Sirius, he couldn’t bear to think about what would happen when he returned back home. His thoughts raced, trying to find the right words but even in his mind, they got tangled and stuck. He couldn’t be placed in Gryffindor. That was Sirius’ path, and Regulus always stayed in his shadow, always compared to him, never his own person, just a candle flickering next to a bonfire. If I’m to be a disappointment too then let me be a disappointment for my own reasons.
“No.” The Hat’s voice echoed, cutting through his thoughts. “I know exactly where you belong.”
At that moment Regulus was sure the oxygen no longer reached his lungs.
“SLYTHERIN!”
Relief washed over him in tidal waves. He was about to stand but the Hat sounded in his mind one last time, “You might wear silver and green for now, young Black, but your true form won’t be hidden forever. I never make mistakes.”
Professor McGonagall removed the Hat and Regulus slid off the stool. He watched her for a split moment and then glanced around the Hall, searching for other reactions. His interaction with the Hat must’ve lasted for only a few seconds because everyone seemed unbothered and neutral. Everyone except for his brother. Sirius clapped his hands politely but his huge smile which was there only a moment ago, had now vanished from his face.
Regulus forced his legs to start moving until he reached the Slytherin table. He sat down and was instantly greeted by his fellow housemates, most of them eager to shake hands and speak with him.
“Crouch Jr. Bartemius!” Professor McGonagall called.
A boy with spikey brown hair stepped forward. He seemed almost…bored. Like he had places he’d rather be. The Hat was placed upon his head.
“SLYTHERIN!”
Everyone near Regulus started shouting. The boy didn’t even wait for McGonagall to remove the Hat; he tossed it off his head and started walking towards the Slytherins, heading for the seat next to Regulus with a frustrated expression.
“Bartemius,” he muttered as he slumped on the wooden bench. “What kind of person names their kid Bartemius?”
“It means ‘son of honour’,” said Regulus. “Bartimaeus. From the Greek word timi, meaning honour.”
The boy turned his head towards him with a smirk. “Son of honour, huh? Guess my old man overlooked the meaning before giving me his own bloody name.” He scoffed. “Or he thought he was the honour himself, the pretentious prick.”
“I suppose you’d like to be called something else instead?”
“Barty’s fine. And what do you go by, I-know-dead-languages boy?”
“Greek’s not a dead language. Latin is— actually it’s evolved into regional dialects.” He watched Barty who was now staring at his fingernails. “Never mind, I’m Regulus.”
“You don’t say!” Barty exclaimed, his attention snapping back to him. “You’re the little brother of that boy everyone talked about last year. The one who got into Gryffindor?”
Regulus adjusted his tie awkwardly. “Sirius, yes.”
Barty shrugged. It was a remarkably expressive shrug, managing to convey several different kinds of not caring all at once. “Well, I s’pose he was a pain in the ass. That’s why he was sorted there. Just like my father.” His eyes darkened just slightly. Regulus was having a hard time keeping up with the way Barty’s mood seemed to change within seconds. “Suits him well that I’m a Slytherin now.” He leaned closer to Regulus with a smirk as if he was sharing a secret. “Poetic justice, I say.”
“You don’t like him much, I suspect,” said Regulus.
“Like him?” Barty laughed. “I hate the guy. But enough of my family business.” He got more serious. “Do you like your family, Regulus?”
What kind of question is that? “It’s my family.”
Barty watched him closely for a moment. “I see,” he said. “Well, we’re far away from home now so I say let’s make the most out of it.”
Professor McGonagall’s voice rang from the front of the room. “Cresswell Dirk!”
“Must she shout like this?” Barty asked, annoyed. “Who even cares about this stupid process?”
“What are you talking about? It’s the most important ceremony,” Regulus protested. “It literally defines our next seven years in this place.”
“It’s an illusion, that’s what it is. They tell you that the Hat chooses your best match based on bollocks like your personality, your character traits, your dreams— your zodiac sign!” He clicked his tongue. “As if any eleven-year-old knows what their dreams are about. As if you have any choice at all. But in the end, someone else is making that choice for you. As always.”
“GRYFFINDOR!”
Barty groaned, slumping his head onto the table.
The names kept getting called: Dearborn Cadaroc in Gryffindor, Diggle Dedalus and Fawley Marshall in Hufflepuff, Fenwick Benjy in Gryffindor, Flint Isolde in Slytherin, Foxgrove Lucretia in Ravenclaw, McMillian Cormac in Slytherin, Moonvale Thessaly in Ravenclaw, Podmore Sturgis in Gryffindor.
“Rosier Evan!”
The boy approached.
Barty perked up. “This one seems interesting,” he said.
Regulus nodded. He recognised him from the train. There was something calm and serene about him, in the way he held himself as he moved towards the stool. His appearance was also captivating; his fair complexion and silver-blond hair made him look like a ghost but not in a creepy way. The Hat rested on his head.
“SLYTHERIN!” it announced with no hesitation.
Their table cheered loudly. Evan reached the Slytherins and sat opposite Barty and Regulus, his attention still on McGonagall.
“Barty Crouch,” Barty introduced himself, extending a hand. “And this one’s Regulus but please, don’t ask him anything about Greek and Latin.”
“Evan,” he said, grabbing Barty’s hand almost mechanically, his eyes glued on the Sorting Hat. He quickly dropped his hand. “Wait a sec.”
“Rosier Pandora!”
She reached the stool with the same serene grace of her brother.
“That’s your twin, right?” Barty asked. Evan hummed in response, barely hearing his question. He fumbled with his hands nervously, staring across the room as his sister sat down on the stool. The Hat twitched slightly as if trying to solve a difficult puzzle. Then it declared: “RAVENCLAW!”
Evan got on his feet, whistling through his fingers. Pandora looked over at him, beaming, and ran towards her House. She was instantly met with tight hugs from some older students.
“You don’t mind that you’re separated?” Regulus asked. “I thought there was a twin-thing.”
Evan sat down with a broad smile, his attention finally on the boys before him. “No, of course not. I mean, yes, we have a twin-thing but look how happy she seems. I can practically feel it.”
Regulus’ eyes drifted to Sirius across the room. His brother was laughing and shoving James at his sides. His huge grin had returned.
“Besides,” Evan said, “it’s not like I won’t see her around. We have many classes in common with the Ravenclaws and the breaks so I won’t miss her much.”
How very lucky of you, Regulus thought.
“Stop staring,” Barty said, nudging Regulus with his elbow.
“What?”
“Your brother. And the boy next to him. Why are you trying to burn a hole through him with your eyeballs?”
Regulus cleared his throat and his eyes fell on his hands instead. “I’m not.”
“Whatever you say,” Barty smirked. “I can smell jealousy from miles.”
“I’m not jealous!”
“Sure thing.”
“I’m going to hex you.”
“Perhaps I’m going to like it.”
Regulus pretended to reach for his wand and Barty shoved him, laughing. “We should share a dorm,” he said. “You, me and Evan. Right Rosier?”
“That’s fine by me,” said Evan. He grinned. “If you can handle two people talking about dead languages.”
“Hell no,” said Barty.
“Greek’s not a dead language,” said Regulus with a martyred sigh.
* * * * *
The castle was huge. Regulus knew that beforehand but it still shocked him as he gazed around from where he was standing. Massive marble staircases extended above his head, moving magically to reconstruct themselves (an innovation of Rowena Ravenclaw who obviously had a knack for making everyone’s life more difficult than it needed to be). Each floor was accessible through the staircase system. Regulus didn’t remember how many floors existed but he was certain Gryffindor’s common room was on the top floor right below the owlery. Slytherin’s common room was in the dungeons so the chances of frequently running into his brother and his friends were pretty slim, and he was quite relieved with that fact.
On the walls of the Great Staircase hung thousands of enchanted portraits with famous warlocks, past students, bards, knights, and nobles, the animated figures chatting and greeting the students. Regulus could have sworn that pairs of eyes were staring at him, the feeling of being watched doing little to ease the uneasiness that had settled over him from the moment he arrived at Hogwarts. He glanced up. The ceiling was so high that it made him dizzy to stare for longer than a few seconds.
The first-year Slytherins were already moving towards the Entrance Hall, following their prefect…Narcissa. Regulus smiled. Finally, a familiar face. It suited her being Slytherins’ prefect; she had put her blonde hair in a tight ponytail that brought out her blue eyes which were both serious and warm as she guided all first-years down the stairs. He was about to follow his cousin too when he heard someone calling his name. He turned around to see Sirius running towards him, followed by Remus, Peter, and James who stood a little farther behind near the wall.
“There you are,” said Sirius as he stopped before him. “You were gone the moment people started heading out and I wanted to speak to you.”
“What are you doing?” Regulus asked with gritted teeth, glancing around him. “You shouldn’t—”
Then Sirius’ arms were around him. “I’m so proud of you,” he murmured against Regulus’ black hair. “I told you, Slytherin or not, you’re my little brother. Nothing’s ever gonna change that.”
Regulus could feel the lump forming in his throat as he wrapped his own hands around his brother. “Thank you,” he said, burying his face into Sirius’ chest.
After a moment, Sirius let go of him, placing his hands on his shoulders. “Everything’s gonna be all right, I promise. I’ll be seeing you around, yeah?”
“Okay.”
“Right then. I should let you get going.” He motioned towards Narcissa who was staring at them with her arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently on the floor. “This one seems like she’s about to bite me.” He smirked. “Tell her I say hi.”
Regulus snorted. “Yeah, sure.”
Sirius was about to leave.
“Sirius—”
He turned to face his little brother.
“I’ll miss you,” Regulus whispered.
Sirius smiled faintly. “I’ll be right here, Reggie. Right here with you. Always with you.”
“Regulus!” Narcissa called from behind. “Curfew starts in ten. And I really don’t want to give you detention on your first day!”
Sirius rolled his eyes. “Go on, then,” he said. “Or she’ll bite us both.” He walked over to his friends.
“Have a good start, Regulus!” James shouted over his shoulder as he and the others started ascending the Great Staircase to their common room.
Regulus sighed. He spotted Evan and Barty among the rest of his housemates and began walking towards them.