Chapter Text
Regulus felt strangely calm as he made his way to the Ravenclaw table. Perhaps he was in shock, because he really didn’t feel the desperate, frantic anxiety he ought to have at the inevitable Howler he’d get the next morning.
He sat down in an open spot, and barely even registered that Bartemius Crouch, Jr. was sorted into Slytherin, or any of the sortings that came after.
It wasn’t much later that he caught his brother’s gaze.
Sirius was making some sort of face that Regulus couldn’t read, but moments later he got up and walked over to where he was sitting at the Ravenclaw table. “Anyone mind if I borrow my baby brother? No? Great.”
And with that, Sirius dragged Regulus out of the Great Hall and down to a corridor.
“What was that?” He asked.
Regulus shrugged, still feeling strangely numb. “The hat said I was a Ravenclaw.”
“And you just went along with it?” Sirius asked. Then he sighed. “Of course you did. I’ll talk to Narcissa, make sure she’s not too scathing in her letter.”
“Mum will be angry,” Regulus said, and it wasn’t a question.
Sirius grimaced. “Look at the bright side – you’re not a Gryffindor, so you probably won’t get a Howler like I did.”
He’d known, of course, on some level, that Sirius must’ve gotten a Howler when he’d been sorted into Gryffindor. A Black, in the house of blood traitors and mudbloods? Their mum wouldn’t have been able to stand it. Ravenclaw, though… there were respectable Purebloods who’d been in Ravenclaw. Not nearly as many as Slytherin, of course, but it wasn’t Gryffindor, and it certainly wasn’t Hufflepuff.
Regulus nodded numbly. His brother clapped him on the back. “Go back to your table and make some friends. Let your big brother take care of this.”
So Regulus did. He walked back into the Great Hall with Sirius, but while Sirius made a beeline for Narcissa at the Slytherin table, Regulus made his way back to the Ravenclaw table.
“You’re Regulus Black, right?” one of the other first-years asked when Regulus sat back down.
“I am,” Regulus said, and when he tried to find Sirius and Narcissa, he found his view had been blocked.
“I’m Max Scamander,” the boy said. He was skinny and freckly with a mop of curly reddish-brown hair, and the bluest eyes Regulus had ever seen. He looked friendly enough.
And that name did mean something to Regulus. Scamander was a Half-Blood, Regulus knew, but his father was one of the most famous wizards of the age. And his father had been the first wizard to capture Grindelwald, had fought actively against Grindelwald in the War… Regulus knew his mother would have a fit if he befriended Newton Scamander’s son, but in the moment, he found he didn’t care.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Regulus said.
“Dad was in Hufflepuff,” Max said, “my older brother, too. Mum went to Ilvermorny, of course… but I can’t imagine they’ll be too disappointed about this.”
“My whole family’s been in Slytherin,” Regulus said.
“Well, not your brother,” Max said, as if this were common knowledge, and maybe it was.
Even his blood-traitor cousin Andromeda had been in Slytherin, Regulus thought idly. What did that make him?
“Anyway, this is Isaac Goldstein,” Max said, nudging the boy next to him, who was rather chubby with mousy brown hair and dark brown eyes. He was glaring daggers at Regulus. “I think we’re… something like third or fourth cousins.”
It was an affront, as a pureblood, to hear someone so unsure of their relation. Regulus knew the entire Black family tree by heart, and a good part of pureblood genealogy in general. Was this something that half-bloods didn’t care for?
Isaac mumbled something in a language that sounded vaguely like German, but not enough for Regulus to understand. Not that his German was much to write home about; French had been seen as far more important. But the possibility of going to Durmstrang had been there, especially after last year, so Regulus did have the basics down.
Whatever it was, Max laughed and replied in the same muddled German. Perhaps a new dialect.
“You can’t understand us,” Isaac said, and it wasn’t a question.
Still, Regulus shook his head. “I’ve only learned French and standard German.” He didn’t ask why a son of Newton Scamander would know German.
“It’s Yiddish,” Max said with a grin. “Close to German, I suppose, but my mother taught me. Wanted to make sure I could continue our heritage.”
Isaac snapped something in - in Yiddish, Regulus supposed. Max shrugged, and Regulus suddenly felt very, terribly lonely. He imagined a different timeline - the right timeline - where he was over at Slytherin table making friends and asserting his position as the most important first year.
“Okay,” Max said. “Here’s the thing. Isaac is paranoid.”
Isaac snapped something that even Regulus could understand: “Ikh bin nischt!”
“He doesn’t seem to remember that we all had family on both sides,” Max continued, not paying Isaac any mind. “Besides… it’s not like my family never got in with the Sacred Twenty-Eight, or what have you, and he’s fine with me.”
“You know,” Regulus said, “I really don’t want any trouble.” Not on his first night, at least.
“Nonsense,” Max said. “You’re in desperate need of friends, from the looks of it, and while Isaac can make his own decisions, I feel as if I’m absolutely up to the task.”
“Your father would be fine with you befriending someone whose cousin just married a Lestrange?”
Max shrugged. “As long as your parents would be fine with you befriending someone whose father personally contributed to Grindelwald’s downfall. We’re not our parents.”
Regulus was entirely certain that his parents wouldn’t be fine with it, but… no one else seemed to even be willing to make eye contact with him.
“Just give Isaac some time. He’ll come round.”
Regulus nodded and turned back to his meal when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Hello again, baby brother!”
Regulus rolled his eyes but turned to his brother nevertheless. “Yes?”
Sirius leaned in and whispered, “I spoke with Narcissa. She’s agreed to highlight some prominent, pureblood Ravenclaws in her letter. She doesn’t believe dear old Mum will have the heart to send her favorite child a Howler.”
Regulus blushed and jerked away from his brother.
“You ought to write her, too,” Sirius said. “Take it from me. After the feast, sit down at a desk in your new common room with a quill and some parchment and tell Mum you’re a Ravenclaw.” Sirius glanced across the table to Max and Isaac. “I’m not sure I’d mention befriending a Scamander, but that’s up to you.”
Max frowned. “How’d you know who I am?”
Sirius grinned. “You’re a dead ringer for your dad. Anyway,” Sirius said, turning back to Regulus. “I’ve got to get back to my friends. Write Mum tonight. If you’d like, I can do it, too, and throw in some lines about how Ravenclaws are all pretentious wankers.”
Regulus blushed again, and shoved at his brother. “Go back to your stupid friends.”
Sirius ruffled his brother’s hair and then ran off to join his fellow Gryffindors.
“He seems… nice,” Max tried.
“He’s an idiot,” Regulus said, trying desperately to fix his hair. But, well, Regulus could tell that Sirius was trying to help. He certainly hadn’t gone over to talk to Narcissa out of his own desire to catch up.