Chapter Text
Regulus had always wondered what his sorting would be like. Ever since the day of his fourth birthday, when Sirius had told him stories of the school he had heard from Andy and Bella.
Now, standing on the platform, straight backed and emotionless mask in place, he was terrified. Regulus Black, youngest son of Walburga and Orion black, was scared. After the disaster of Sirius’ sorting the year before, their parents had been pushing them even harder than before. Snapping and bending parts of their sons to make them fit into the perfect pureblood heir box they were supposed to fill.
So yes, Regulus was scared. Part of him desperately wanted to join his brother in Gryffindor, but the larger, more cowardly part screamed for him to join Slytherin, and to finally make his parents proud. He wasn’t brave, or chivalrous. He wasn’t kind, and the only person he had any reason to be loyal to was Sirius. He was smart, and he loved learning, but he was also cunning and proud. Realistically, the only houses he had a chance in were Slytherin or Ravenclaw. Given how his parents had reacted to Sirius being a Gryffindor, there was really only one safe option for Regulus. Even if he liked the sound of Ravenclaw much more than Slytherin, he was a coward. He would always pick the safe option, because he was a coward.
Behind him, to his right, Walburga shifted to bring her mouth down by his ear. Regulus tensed reflexively. Nothing his Mother could say to him now would be good.
“Vous ferez la bonne chose. Vous serez réparti à Serpentard, ou vous subirez les conséquences de votre faiblesse, vous me comprenez ?” Her voice was soft, and so sweet for someone so cruel.
“Oui, Maman.” Cold, detached. Nothing to betray his fear. No weakness to provide an opening to his Mothers favourite pastime of curt remarks and cutting curses.
“Vous devez vous asseoir avec vos cousins dans le train. Ils vous présenteront ceux qui valent la peine d'être connus. Vous ne devez pas fréquenter des traîtres à votre sang ou des sangs de bourbe. Est-ce que tu me comprends?” So many orders. Not a single thing left to chance.
“Oui, Maman.” Trojan horse. Lock it all inside. No weakness. No reprieve.
"Reggie, es-tu prêt à partir?" Sirius’ voice filters through the walls in his mind. "Le train est sur le point de partir." Why is everything so loud? Why are there so many people? Regulus can’t breathe. Trojan Horse. Why isn’t it working? Trojan Horse. It’s too much, there is too much, so many bodies, Regulus can’t breathe.
“Reggie?” Sirius. His only reason. The only one he trusts. Nod. Walk. Board the express. Trojan Horse. Time is an odd thing, Regulus thinks. It warps and stretches when you least want it to. When you want to remember, to savour the moments, it flies. When you ache from the pain of your Mothers wand, it crawls. Suddenly, he is no longer on the platform, listening to his mother lecture him on the correct things to do. Regulus is in a train carriage, sitting opposite his older brother, trying to savour the last calm before the storm.
The door slides open and both brothers look up. Two boys darted inside, one small and blond, with shimmery blue eyes; and one tall and lanky, with erratic black curls and honey brown eyes. Sirius’ eyes light up. Regulus' heart sinks. So these must be the friends Sirius had so much to say about.
“Pete, James!” His brother jumps out of his seat and launches himself at the two boys. The laugh, clinging to each other and looking far too happy, according to Regulus. Only after they finally break apart do the boys spot Regulus. They stare at him, totally oblivious to his inner turmoil at seeing his brother so happy with someone other than him.
“This is my little brother, Reggie.” Sirius cuts in, magically dispelling the awkward silence that had settled momentarily. “Reggie, this is Peter and James.” Way to state the obvious.
“It’s Regulus.” He snaps without meaning too. Too mean. Sirius wanted them to get along. “Sirius had a lot to say about you all.” Too sharp. To direct. Get yourself together Black.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Regulus. I’m James Potter. Sirius had a lot to say about you as well.” The taller boy, James, meets his gaze, brown eyes shining with curiosity. Potter. Pureblood, but blood-traitor. Of course Sirius would befriend him. On the surface, he looks confident, radiates popularity. Even so, Regulus has only just met him, and he can tell there is something hidden below the bright smiles and warm voice.
“Yeah, nice to meet you. I’m Peter Pettigrew.” The smaller boy does not make eye contact with Regulus. A pureblood. The Pettigrews have a rather unfortunate reputation for turning out squibs. Not this one evidently. He seems jittery. Not very Gryffindor, Regulus thinks. Still, nice enough. He gives the boys a nod, deciding he can at least be civil, if not friendly with the ones who stole his brother from him.
He tunes out of the conversation after that. He has no interest in discussing whatever they deem conversation material. By the time the train had pulled out of the station, Regulus was well and truly in his own world. A couple of hours pass in relative calm. Sirius and his friends are loud, because of course they are. The only time Regulus looks up is when another boy slips into the carriage. Immediately, the other boys leap up, chattering incessantly and flitting around the new arrival.
The new boy is tall, taller than Potter, with wavy light brown hair, and amber brown eyes. He has a lot of scars, and there are no doubt more covering the rest of him. His clothes are slightly thread-bare, and he looks a little ill, Regulus thinks. Despite all this, he is really quite attractive which, Regulus reminds himself, is exactly what his mother would punish him for thinking about.
“Reggie, this is Remus.” Sirius’ voice cuts through his daydreaming, smacking him head first back into reality. “Remus, this is my brother Regulus.” Finally his brother is using his full name. Thank the Lords of Black.
The boy nods. “Remus Lupin. Nice to meet you.” He has a slight accent. Welsh, Regulus thinks. Remus Lupin. Definitely a wizard's name, though not one he recognises from his parents' teachings. A half-blood perhaps? He seems smart. And at least a bit less insane than the rest of his brothers friends.
“Regulus Black.” He says with a curt nod. His Mother would have a fit if she knew that the only one of Sirius’ friends Regulus actually liked was a halfblood. Case in point, Sirius’ expression after he actually spoke to someone.
He turns to his brother. “Je devrais aller retrouver nos cousins. Sinon, maman serait ennuyée. Tu sais comment elle va.” Sirius blinks at him. Just stares in utter shock. Why? Regulus has no idea.
“Euh, bien sûr. Je veux dire, si tu veux. Vous n’êtes pas obligé. Tu peux toujours rester ici.” Sirius seemed genuinely shocked. Literally why? What did Regulus do to warrant such confusion?
Besides, even if he wanted to stay and chat to his brother's friends, that would not please Walburga in the slightest. “Non, je devrais y aller. Mieux vaut rester sous son radar. Je serai de retour avant notre arrivée.” Really, he would much rather stay with Sirius, but oh well. If seeing their cousins and being introduced to some random kids is what it takes to stay safe, he’ll do it.
Sirius sighs. "Très bien, assure-toi juste de revenir avant que nous nous arrêtions, je ne trimballe pas ta malle pour toi." he hesitates, looking as though he wants to say more. That’s odd. Sirius never hesitates. He appears to steel himself for a few seconds before speaking again. “Reggie? Tu es vraiment gentil aujourd'hui. Est-ce que tout va bien?” Lord Black’s cape on a pole. Is he seriously asking if Regulus is alright??
Rolling his eyes, Regulus stands, only stopping just before the door to reply to his brothers incessant worrying. “Oui mon frère, tout va bien. Je serai bientôt de retour. Arrêtez de vous inquiéter.” Honestly. One would think Sirius was his mother, not Walburga. Regulus finds his worrying annoying, but also quite nice sometimes. Sirius cares, even if no one else does.
The walk down the train is nice, quiet. Everyone is in their carriages, so there is little to no noise in the corridor. Regulus learnt from Narcissa that the Slytherins sit up the front, most of them in a shared open carriage, so they can flaunt their blood-status to each other without having to wander through to different rooms all the time. Upon entering the carriage he sees his cousins, sitting up the front, lording over everyone else, just as a good little Black heir should do. Andy left Hogwarts three years ago, so now the eldest Black at the school is her sister Bellatrix.
She’s chattering loudly to a group of older students, practically sitting in the lap of one Rodolphus Lestrange, who Regulus recognises from all the pure-blood balls he has been forced to attend. This year is Bellatrix’s last, so Regulus will only have to deal with her for a small amount of time. Next to her is Narcissa, just one year below Bella, speaking quietly to a man with platinum blond hair that Regulus remembers as Lucius Malfoy.
The chatter comes to an abrupt halt as Regulus moves over to them. People stare, people murmur to those around them, waiting to see what will come of the youngest Black.
“Reggie!” Bellatrix squeals, jumping up off of Lestrange’s lap to pull him into a suffocating hug. It’s awful. She smells of smoke, something sweet, and dark magic. When she pulls away, he has to blink several times to bring everything back into focus. Over her shoulder, he catches eyes with Narcissa and she gives him a small smile. At least one of his cousins respects boundaries.
“Bella.” He sounds stiff, tense, to tense. Relax. Trojan Horse.
“Come, come, let me introduce you to the real wizards!” Her overly cheery demeanour is somewhat overshadowed by the all black dress and frizzly bun she has for some reason decided to wear. Fashion. Bellatrix has clearly never had a sense of style, and likely never will, but even so, she is a Black, she looks good. It’s incredibly annoying.
“Reggie, this is Rodolphus and his brother, Rabastan, from the year above you. Over here is Lucius, obviously…” The list goes on.
It’s a lot. There are so many people, and only a few he actually likes. Rosier and Meadowes seem nice enough, so at least he has one good dorm mate and someone else to hang out with. Of course, there is the possibility that Evan or Regulus might get sorted into a different house, but most likely no. Rabastan is ok, but he enjoys social interaction a bit too much for Regulus to like him. Regulus is pretty sure he won’t ever become anything more than acquaintances with anyone else. The only other person he found was a girl called Pandora Lovegood, who was sitting alone in a corner until Evan introduced her to Dorcas and Regulus.
Regulus sits in the Slytherin carriage until the sun is almost set and he has secured three good friends, and lots of envious old students. Dorcas is a Slytherin, though apparently she was almost placed in Gryffindor. Evan will most likely be a Slytherin, Regulus thinks. He’s smart, quiet, and if he doesn’t get Slytherin then he’ll be a Ravenclaw. He’s also unfairly good looking, not that Regulus will ever tell anyone that. Pandora is ethereal, her head is in the clouds most of the time but she’ll occasionally spout out such in-depth knowledge it makes Regulus wonder if she’s some sort of deity. She’ll be a Ravenclaw. Regulus is sure of it. It’s a shame, because they won’t be able to see her as much, but it is what it is.
Only when he feels the train beginning to slow down does Regulus bid goodbye to his friends and make the trek back to his brother’s carriage, this time adorned in plain black school robes. He nods to Lupin, ignores Potter and Pettigrew, and grabs his trunk from the rack above the seats. The chattering is starting to get louder again, with everyone moving around gathering their belongings.
“Salut, Reggie. Avez-vous trouvé Bella et Cissa?” Sirius’ voice grounds him, brings him back from the buzz of noise around them. They’re about to arrive. The nerves are back.
“Évidemment” His voice is tight. Why can’t he calm down? None of his friends were freaking out about their sorting. Regulus is unreasonably glad that Sirius is here.
"Grossier. Est-ce que tu t'es fait des amis?” His brother is still talking. Why is it so loud? Why are there so many people? “Reggie?”
It takes him a moment to realise Sirius is still waiting for a reply. "Quelques." Trojan horse. Regulus needs to calm down. Why is it taking so long for the train to stop? It feels like hours since he was sitting with his friends, getting to know each other and chatting about subjects.
"C'est bien. Je suis sûr que tu en feras plus plus tard, allez, il est temps d'y aller.” Sirius starts herding him towards the door, shoving him unceremoniously out after Potter. The four of them are all buzzing with excitement. Adding to the noise of the station. It’s colder outside, a welcome reprieve from the stifling atmosphere of the train corridor.
“Firs’ years over ‘ear. Firs’ years this way!” The shout booms over the rest of the noise. Regulus stops only for a moment to hand his trunk off to a porter before he’s moving. Following the voice, Regulus finds himself standing in a crowd of other first years. The voice belongs to the most massive man Regulus had ever laid eyes on. He remembers Sirius telling him about the gamekeeper once, in one of his stories when Regulus couldn’t sleep.
The Gamekeeper leads them all around a bend in the path, bringing the castle into view for the first time. It’s huge, regal even. Built out of weathered grey stone, with turrets and towers all over. There are lights on all throughout the school, lighting up the sky with a golden glow. Regulus has seen many pictures of Hogwarts, some from his brother, some from books. Somehow, it already feels more like home than Grimmauld Place ever has.
They continued down the path until they reached the edge of the lake. The Black Lake, if Regulus remembers correctly. Weaving to the front of the gathering crowd, he comes face to face with a small fleet of boats. The boats have no oars, no visible way to steer, and are made of dark wood. Regulus wonders why they’ve been brought down here. Surely it would be easier to take the path over the hill rather than around?
Oh.
Oh no.
Surely not.
Regulus hates water. Hates boats.
Surely not. They wouldn’t.
“Four t’ a boat. Move on, move on.” The Gamekeeper’s voice drifts over the crowd. Terror courses through Regulus’. Why boats? Why water? Why the bloody lake???
People begin clambering aboard the little boats. Despite their size, they don’t tip as the kids dutifully file aboard. Regulus sighs. There’s no getting out of this is there?
“Hey, Reg!” Pandora waved from where she was already sitting in a boat with Evan and a small brown haired girl. “Come ride with us!” Regulus desperately wanted to refuse, he didn’t want to go on the lake at all. Better to do it with his friends than with anyone else.
He scrambled into the boat with none of his usual grace, flopping down behind Evan and Pandora. The boat rocked gently, making Regulus’ stomach churn.
“You alright, Reg?” The genuine concern in Evan’s voice honestly startles Regulus. No one but Sirius had ever really cared that much about him. A strange warmth flooded him at the thought. Someone cared.
“Yeah, I just.” Breathe. “Boats aren’t really my thing.” He forces himself to breathe, he cannot have a panic attack over a boat ride. Regulus Black does not get scared, he tells himself. Liar. Somehow it’s easier to lie to himself than to actually feel his emotions. Of all the fears in the world he had to get water. Regulus doesn’t even know why he’s scared of it. He has a vague feeling something may have happened when he was younger, too young to remember. But if he doesn’t remember it why is he scared of it?
He allows these questions to consume him, sweeping him away from reality. He ponders over his fears and what could have possibly caused them for several minutes, completely missing when they started to move. By the time he comes back to himself, they’re already in the middle of the lake. Oh, Lord.
Shit.
Shit.
Whatever Ancient Headmaster of the school decided what a grand idea it was to have the first years enter the school via boat must have been an evil, evil person because what in The Ancient Lord Black’s name, and why is the water so dark!
His panic continues for the whole rest of the journey across the lake. Even after they leave the boats to begin the walk up to the castle, Regulus still feels like he might be sick at any moment. He shoves his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking, and schools his face into an expression of cool boredom. Bored is much better than terrified. If his mother knew the extent of his fear of water he would be done for. Gone. Adios. Ciao. No reprieve.
By the time they reach the front doors of the castle, Regulus is finally calm again. Trojan Horse. Nothing to show even a hint of weakness. Everything is fine. Everything is fine right up until the doors open to reveal a stern-faced witch with wired rimmed glasses and an impossibly neat black bun nestled on top of her head. Her appearance reminds Regulus of his mother, he can sense that her personality is about as far from Walburga Black’s as possible.
“Good-evening students. My name is Professor Mcgonagall, and I will be escorting you to your sorting ceremony this evening.” Words, rehearsed and repeated over the years, spoken sternly in a contrast to the witch’s kind personality. Or so Regulus thinks. He’s rather good at reading people, which comes in handy when trying to find the right people to consort with at stuffy pure-blood events believe it or not. Professor Mcgonagall is kind, if a bit stern and very competitive. Regulus would bet a lot of money that she was nearly placed in Ravenclaw, despite being head of Gryffindor house.
The nerves were back in full force now. Crawling up his throat and threatening to choke him before he even stepped foot in the Great Hall. The only sound to be heard as the first years followed Professor Mcgonagall through the castle was the swishing of cloaks and tap of shoes against stone. Regulus walks with Pandora on his left, and Evan on his right. He’s more grateful than they will ever know for their presence. It’s the only thing that helps to ground him in this unfamiliar place.
They’ve arrived.
The doors to the Great Hall stand, tall and imposing, carved from a rich mahogany in front of them. Sounds drift through the gaps in the doors, the older students chattering away, waiting for the sorting to start. There’s a loud scraping sound, and the doors begin to move. The chatter from inside dies out immediately. All the other students craned their necks to see this year's new arrivals. Terror coursed through Regulus’ veins. Too many people.
“Follow me please.” The stern voice of Professor Mcgonagall guides the first years up to the front of the hall. They all shuffle around, trying to take up as little room as possible in this massive place.
Sat on a three-legged stool on the raised platform at the front of the Great Hall, is the Sorting Hat. Old, frayed, and looking quite like it could fall apart at any moment, the famous hat looks incredibly sad. Decrepit. Walburga Black would have a fit.
Professor Mcgonagall cleared her throat. “One by one, you will be called up for your sorting. You will put on the sorting hat, and it will give you a house. Do not be disturbed if it does not give you your house immediately, you will be fine.” Well. Here goes nothing. He’s here and it’s time to see where he really belongs. Nigel Abbot goes first, getting sorted into hufflepuff before the hat even sat fully his head, then;
“Black, Regulus.”
Regulus swallows. Moves forward, climbs up the steps. Sits on the stool. Mcgonagall places the hat on his head. It fell down below his eyes, obscuring the gazes of everyone, pinning him in place.
“You’re certainly an interesting one aren’t you?”
What. He didn’t know the hat would talk??
“Yes, yes. Plenty of brains up here. Smart one aren’t you?”
Well, yes. Regulus is smart, but so are all the Blacks. Even Sirius is smarter than the average person.
“Mmm, you’re loyal, that’s for sure…”
Loyal? To Sirius maybe. Probably his friends as well, now.
“Kind, but only to those who have earned it.”
Well, yes. Why would Regulus be kind to random strangers who have done nothing to deserve it?
“Been using your brains for your own gain over others haven’t you?”
They’re Regulus’ brains. Of course he’s been using them for his own gain. Dimly he wonders how long it’s been by now.
“Mmm, there’s plenty of ambition, a thirst for knowledge, a fierce loyalty to those close to you…”
Yep, that pretty much sums Regulus up, he thinks.
“But where to put you?”
Well not Gryffindor for sure. Regulus is many things but he is not brave or chivalrous. Not Hufflepuff either, his first instinct is never to be kind. He’s loyal, sure, but having one trait doesn’t cancel out others.
“Lets see… got to be Slytherin, or perhaps Ravenclaw?”
Way to state the obvious. Regulus wants Ravenclaw. But his parents…
Tell me, young Black. Would you rather have a riddle or a puzzle? What test would you take?”
Isn’t a riddle just a puzzle though? Aren’t they one in the same? Both have to be solved, and both have only one correct answer, most of the time. They’re similar, at least, parallels at most.
“Very well. Better be…”
“RAVENCLAW!”
Abruptly, the hat is pulled off his head, dragging him back to the present. Regulus stands on shaking legs, moving silently off to the cheering sea of Blue and Bronze at the table on the far left. There’s a clear space for first year students to sit, and Regulus slides in, the first to be sorted there this year. His heart was pounding, beating so hard against his ribcage he feared it might give out. He forced himself to focus on the sorting, to watch who would be sorted next. The next girl was sorted into Gryffindor, followed by a brown haired boy into Hufflepuff, and then finally, another Ravenclaw.
“Crouch, Bartemius”, Sat on the stool for a good five minutes before the hat declared him a Ravenclaw. Crouch stalked over to the table and dropped down into the seat opposite Regulus. Curly brown hair and blue eyes, he was a picture-perfect pure-blood. They eyed each other curiously, his expression made Regulus want to squirm. He didn’t though, Blacks do not squirm. Regulus averted his eyes back to the sorting. No point in talking now.
Regulus ignored anyone who wasn’t in Ravenclaw. He’s not going to get to know them anyways. Bar Dorcas and Sirius’ friends, Regulus had no plans to talk to people outside of his house. The next to join him and Crouch was “Green, Olivia.”, the brown haired girl from the boat. Then, Pandora sat at the stool for around three minutes before sliding into the seat next to Regulus. He hoped Evan would be joining them. It would be very unfortunate if one of them was separated now that everyone else was here.
A few more people were sorted, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, Slytherin, Gryffindor. Next, “Rosier, Evan.” Regulus tensed, trepidation curling in his stomach. The hat dropped over Evan’s eyes, obscuring his expression, making it impossible to discern what the hat might be saying. Time seemed to slow. Minutes passed and the hall grew antsy. People knew better than to talk, but there was a lot of fidgeting. Fidgeting is a sign of weakness. Walburga Black would have a field day. But then again, her second son had just been sorted into Ravenclaw, she would be having a fit regardless.
“RAVENCLAW!”
Thank all the ancestors and gods above, Evan was a Ravenclaw. He jumped up off the stool and swept over to join the small crowd of first years already at the table. He looked relieved, but also slightly terrified, which was exactly how Regulus felt. Relieved, because his friends were in the same house, but terrified of what his parents would say. Regulus could feel the stares of the Slytherins burning into him from here. Bellatrix would no-doubt rush off to owl his parents as soon as the feast was over, how they would react could be anywhere from a letter stating their disappointment, to an immediate removal from the school. But that was a problem for future Regulus. The sorting finished up reasonably quickly after that, with only one more first year coming to join the sea of blue and bronze. Robin Casselberry. There would be three to a dorm, boys in one, girls in the other. It would be Regulus, Evan, and Crouch; and Pandora, Olivia, and Robin.
When the food appeared on the tables, all hell broke loose. At least, that's what it felt like to Regulus. People talking, moving, eating, laughing. So much noise. He mindlessly filled his plate, determinedly not looking at the other tables. He didn’t want to see his family’s reaction to this new turn of events. The food was good, cooked by house elves, Regulus assumed. He wondered where they lived? What else did they do around the castle? How many of them work here? Regulus likes house elves, they’re simple beings. Simple as in they lead an easy life, working and living. They’re actually very intelligent, for the most part, and their magic far surpasses that of humans. Most people don’t care about those they think are beneath them. A lot of pure-bloods don’t care about half-bloods and muggleborns, despite the fact that they’re all witches and wizards. Humans also like to believe that they’re above species such as elves and merpeople, just because they command the most territory.
Again, Walburga Black would have a fit. But she never has to know. Regulus is good at shielding his mind. He has to be. If she knew what he was thinking it would be a near-death experience at least.
He’s vaguely aware of the other students socialising, talking to each other, making connections. Regulus can’t bring himself to join them. He has plenty of time to make friends and get the lay of the land.
The feast slips away fairly quickly, and then they’re moving again. They follow a Ravenclaw prefect, Millicent Bagnold, if he remembers right, up to the tower. The door to Ravenclaw Tower is large, made of rich brown wood, with a bronze eagle door knocker.
Bagnold shushes the excitable crowd, “Each time you come to enter the tower, you will be asked a riddle. If you cannot figure out the answer, that’s your problem. We do this so that we are always learning.” A riddle? Every Time they enter the tower? That should be fun. He assumes that if you don’t get the answer you have to wait for someone who can figure it out. “Let’s see what this riddle is.”
An aerie voice drifted from the door, light and dreamy. “No one ever empties me, but I am never full for long. What am I?” Well that one’s easy.
“The moon, obviously.” Regulus finds himself speaking before he can stop it. Whoops. So much for not embarrassing himself. Surely that has to be wrong.
“Correct.” The door opened. Oh. He got it right. He can sense the other first years looking at him. He pushes everything else back and focuses on this new place. They file inside, staring around at the royal blue and deep brown wood furnishings. He thinks it’s much nicer than Grimmauld place. It feels warmer, more like a place he can live in, rather than just exist. There are tables dotted around the room, books on every wall. It smells of parchment and ink, with an undertone of something sweet, like boiled sweets. The walls are covered in large windows, with deep blue drapes sweeping across the stone. The ceiling is high and vaulted, with spots of dancing light flitting through it.
Opposite the door is a huge stone statue. Rowena Ravenclaw. An ethereal figure, with the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw nestled in flowing stone curls. Not the actual diadem obviously. It’s just a stone replica, but the effect is the same. It draws the eye, commanding the room. Bagnold is explaining the layout, showing everyone where the dormitories are. Regulus isn’t listening. He takes in the room, gazing around at the brilliance of it all.
“C’mon, Reg.” He looks over to where Evan was standing by a staircase leading up to where he assumes the boys' dorm rooms are. He trailed up after Evan, already dreading tomorrow. His parents. Walburga and Orion Black. They already had Sirius in Gryffindor, now Regulus was in Ravenclaw. He was well and truly fucked. Given how they had reacted last year to Sirius sorting, he could only imagine what they would do now that both of their sons were ‘A disgrace to the Noble and Ancient House of Black’. Crouch was already in the dorm, having claimed the bed closest to the door. Evan immediately took the one furthest from the other boy, leaving Regulus to the middle. Great.
They unpacked in silence, each boy lost in their own head. Regulus wondered what Crouch was thinking. His parents were about as different from Regulus’ own that it was possible to be. He wondered about Evan’s parents as well. He had met them a few times, because Ms Rosier was Regulus’ Aunt Druella’s sister. He guesses this makes them related by law in some way. Like some kind of messed up second cousin. Sacred 28 blah blah blah.
Regulus glanced around reflexively as he clambered into his four-poster bed. His wishes Sirius was here. The awkward atmosphere had dissipated for the most part, what with all the boys asleep, or pretending.
Sleep came late for Regulus on his first night, worried about his parents, his dorm mates, his classes, and Sirius, to name just a few things. It curled in his stomach, festering, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth as he drifted into peaceful oblivion.