the sorting
Chapter 3
Regulus’s first impression of the great hall is that this mother would hate it.
After a short boat ride across the lake that resulted in Regulus getting quite damp, and a long, stressful wait outside the large oak doors to the castle while people shivered and whined around him, he thought he was ready to retire wherever he would be sleeping tonight. Professor McGonagall, a strict looking woman with a kindly glint in her eye, escorted them into a small chamber just outside the hall where the first years huddled together anxiously.
“I just know,” a girl next to him whined. “I'll be sorted into Slytherin.” her friend shrieked in horror. “No, they wouldn't do that to you, not with all those creeps in that horrible dungeon.”
“I don't know…” the whining girl said. “Last Christmas I stole my brother's chocolate and ate it before he woke up, if that's not Slytherin behavior I don't know what is!” her friend looked horrified. Regulus sighed.
“First years.” a no-nonsense voice said sharply to the cluster of students. A room of heads snapped up. Professor McGonagall was standing at the door, looking impatient.
“In your sorting, you will be placed into one of four great houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin. Each of these houses carries a legacy of honor that you are expected to uphold during your years at Hogwarts. House points will be awarded for good behavior, and deducted for misbehavior. Whichever house has the most points at the end of the year is awarded the House Cup, which is very much prized by our older students. So I would advise you-” she looked over the rim of her glasses meaningfully. “Don't be the reason your house loses.” the students shifted uncomfortably, and the whining girl let out a soft gasp. Regulus didn't move, kept his back bone straight and met McGonagall's gaze squarely. He watched her eyes scan his face, and saw a look of recognition dawn on her quickly before she resumed her expression of severity.
“Do we have any questions?”
The room was silent but for the sounds of ragged breathing.
“Excellent.” the professor said briskly. “It is now time for your sorting, please follow me into the Great Hall in an orderly fashion. Your names will be called alphabetically, so there is no point in forcing your way to the front.” she said this specifically to a short, straw haired boy that had shoved past multiple people and now stood in front of the door eagerly. He lowered his head, embarrassed.
The door swung open suddenly, light flooded the room, and Regulus lost his breath for the second time that day.
The first thing he thought was how much his mother would hate it, the second was that he had never seen this many people in one room. Four great benches filled the Hall, all set with gleaming gold plates and goblets and lined with chatting students. Thousands of voices filled the air as people talked animatedly to their friends and laughed loudly. Regulus stood on his tiptoes, trying to pick out his brother's dark head from the crowd, but couldn't find him among the many Gryffindors sitting at the long oak table beneath a scarlet banner. Countless candles floated above the students' heads, some of them dancing slightly to the faint music Regulus thought he could hear drifting through the air. The ceiling was impossibly high, the candlelit walls disappeared into an inky black spotted with stars. Regulus had to remind himself of the enchantment Sirius had told him made the ceiling mirror the sky outside, and still wasn't convinced the walls didn't just open up to the heavens. His mother would probably respect that, at least, he thought with bitter amusement. Whatever complicated enchantment took to do that would be enough for Regulus to earn her approval for at least a few days.
Slowly, all the chatter in the hall was drawing to a stop as students noticed the first years huddled in the corner, and nudged their friends to be quiet and watch. Regulus suddenly had a horrible feeling of having thousands of eyes being trained on him. His back straightened instinctively.
“Welcome, First Years.”
A kind, strange looking man in sweeping robes had stood up from the teachers table in the front of the hall. He was impressively tall, with an auburn beard that almost reached his waist and hair halfway down his back. “For those who do not know me, I am Professor Dumbledore. I know everyone is tired from their journey, and rather hungry. So, I say, let the sorting commence!”
A cheer rattled the hall, Regulus flinched. The tall man was watching them curiously. Regulus saw Professor McGonagall lean and whisper something to him, and Dumbledore's eyes found Regulus’s curiously. Regulus ignored the shiver that went down his spine and stared back.
Blue eyes met gray. Regulus thought inanely of his chocolate frog card, and how this man had defeated Gellert Grindelwald, one of the greatest dark wizards of all time. His mother had loved him. Something in Dumbledore’s eyes made Regulus think that he probably knew that. He suddenly didn't like the tall man very much.
“Abbott, Crispin.” Dumbledore called. A nervous looking boy walked shakily forward and sat on a small wooden stool next to Dumbledore. The Headmaster flicked his wand, and a worn hat appeared in the air above Crispin Abbotts head. It landed softly, covering the boy's eyes with a small squeak from him. The Great Hall was silent for a few moments, all eyes fixed eagerly on the quivering boy, and then the hat opened a strange sort of flap and shouted:
“Hufflepuff!”
The Great Hall exploded into applause. Crispin, looking quite relieved, took off the hat and hurried over to the Hufflepuff table, where he was greeted with handshakes and laughter. The rest of the hall broke into chatter for only a few seconds before resuming their attention on the hat, as the next person was called. Regulus thought he might throw up. The first years all around him were anxiously looking around and whispering.
“I'm a Patil--” one boy said worriedly. “I won't go till nearly the end!”
“At least you're not a Wood.” his friend shot back. “I'll likely be dead last.”
I'll be going any minute now. Regulus thought flatly. They had almost gone through all the A’s. Time seemed to move impossibly slow, the sorting punctured by rounds of applause, some louder than others. Regulus noticed the only Slytherin sorted so far was greeted with almost complete quiet. Finally, Dumbledore looked down at his list and called:
“Black, Regulus.”
Regulus walked out on shaking legs, but forced his face into one of indifference.
He was a boy of ice.
He was a sculpture.
He was just flesh and bones.
Regulus didn't dare look at the rest of the school, but gracefully lowered himself onto the stool and placed the hat on his head.
“Well, well.” a sly voice said. Regulus forced himself not to jump. “This one seems to want to be a Slytherin rather badly.”
Yes.
“Family line, I suppose?”
Yes. Regulus thought again, but an image of Sirius in his crimson scarf flashed through his mind. The sorting hat let out a chuckle.
“Oh, I remember that one. He was a Gryffindor, no question. Don't you want to follow him?”
No. Regulus thought. He felt slightly sick.
“It seems, by dear boy, that you aren't so sure about that.”
Please. Thought Regulus. Please just put me in Slytherin.
“But you seem so very clever. A Ravenclaw, that's what you are. You would make plenty of friends, boy, I can tell. Reading to your heart's content…”
Longing stabbed through Regulus, he squeezed his eyes shut against the tears. ‘I think I'm going to be a Ravenclaw.’ Pandora had said.
“Oh, so you already made a friend, didn't you?” the sorting hat said curiously.
Regulus wanted to rip it off. The way it seemed to read his thoughts, his desires, his deepest secrets, reminded him of his mother. He was being violated, his privacy was infiltrated. He didn't have any privacy at all, actually.
Get out of my head. Regulus thought fiercely. He could feel his walls breaking down, his ice melting. He didn't know how long he had been sitting there, it felt like hours. The whole school was watching him, he remembered. He couldn't fall apart.
Please.
He tried again.
Just put me in Slytherin.
'
Even in his thoughts, Regulus could hear his voice break.
The hat sighed.
“Very well, my boy. If you insist.” and without a further word, it shouted:
“SLYTHERIN!”
Regulus ripped the hat off his head in relief, and met the staring eyes of the entire school.
A scatter of applause came from the Slytherin table, speckled with a couple cheers. Nobody from the other houses clapped. Cheeks burning, Regulus turned to leave, pleading with himself not to break his mask. He wondered where Sirius was. Shame burned through him again at the realization that he had been hoping his brother would clap. Regulus forced back the image of Sirius tackling him with a hug as he was sorted into Gryffindor, the whole hall exploding in applause and promise of never being alone again. He was a Slytherin now. He was a Black.
He gathered the courage to face the school and straightened his back, his eyes fixed on the Slytherin table, but a sudden whoop distracted him. In the center of the Gryffindor table, a single figure was on their feet clapping resolutely. They reached down and grabbed their friend's arm, dragging them to their feet. Regulus thought the world may have stopped and held its breath, because the air seemed impossibly still when he met James Potter’s eyes from across the room as the other boy let out another echoing cheer. Regulus blinked. The rest of the hall was now fixed on James, and the other boy that Regulus now recognized as Sirius. His brother was looking quite uncomfortable, but applauded softly with his friend while avoiding eye contact with Regulus. James, however, looked unabashed, and looked at his friends expectantly, who one by one got to their feet. The Slytherin round of applause had died out, but slowly, the entire Gryffindor table joined James in a deafening cheer as Regulus walked, starstruck, over to the Slytherin table. Even the Slytherins looked mildly ashamed at their less than friendly welcoming, and a few older boys patted Regulus on the back as he made his way down the table. When he passed James and Sirius, James gave him a beaming smile that made Regulus’s heartbeat in a funny way. His face crimson, he looked at his brother, who grinned at him with a mixture of embarrassment and confusion.
“Hey, Reg.” Sirius said. Regulus paused. “Congratulations.” but Regulus caught the shadow of disappointment on his face. As Regulus walked away, he heard James say to Sirius: “He deserves to be welcome too, Sirius. Remember the great clap we got in our first year? I felt like I was flying. Regulus deserves that too, you know.”
Regulus hurried away and slid onto the bench to watch the rest of the sorting, but his heart felt oddly light, and he couldn't stop replaying James Potter’s words in his head.
Regulus deserves that too.