He stood at the front of the Great Hall with the other first years – fidgeting nervously, and shifting his weight from foot to foot before reminding himself what his mother had taught him about posture and poise – waiting for his name to be called. He had never felt a terror like this in his life – what if he wasn't good enough for any of the houses? What if there had been some sort of mistake and he was actually a squib?
He wasn't standing there long before his name was called out and he was walking calmly towards the three-legged stool, head held high; he had been raised a Black, and it wouldn't do for the entire school to see him quaking in fear.
He sat gracefully on the slightly wonky stool, remembering to keep his back straight at all times, and the hat was placed on his head. A brief frown escaped past the indifferent facade he had adopted as the Hat covered his eyes and rested on the bridge of his nose.
He could almost feel it rummaging around in his head, and it was a sensation he was definitely opposed to. He tried to steer it in the right direction – to the Pureblood traditions and beliefs that were embedded in his very being – but the Hat would not be deterred.
"You would do well in Ravenclaw," A low, gravelly voice intoned inside his head, unnerving him slightly. He didn't attempt to respond, but the Hat must have picked up on his slight displeasure as it was quick to move on.
"How about Gryffindor; a second Black amongst its ranks in the same generation – completely unheard of," He showed the Hat images of green and silver, of his cousins – Bellatrix, Andromeda and Narcissa – sitting at the same table and watching his sorting. Still the Hat missed nothing and could sense his slight indecision.
"No; you would do best in Hufflepuff. You have a strong sense of loyalty, no matter how misplaced," The Hat continued, only serving to infuriate the youngest Black child.
"No!" He hissed aloud, hoping that no one in the Great Hall had heard, choosing to ignore the slight hint of desperation that his voice held.
"Very well, then. SLYTHERIN"
Thunderous applause erupted from the Slytherin table, but Regulus heard none of it. As he made his way over to his House table on shaky legs, the only thing he noticed was the glare he was receiving from his brother – a glare that didn't quite manage to cover the hurt and betrayal at Regulus choosing their parents over him.
He wished he could make them all proud of him.