Regulus spots Narcissa as he's brought into the hall. It's the first time he's ever seen her in Hogwarts robes, and they suit her nicer than he thought they would. His cousin seems to have been searching him out, because when her eyes fall on his face, she smiles.

Narcissa is prettier than many of the other Black women, Regulus thinks. There is something calmer, softer about her features. Granted, compared to Bellatrix, it could be said anyone would appear soft and calm. He's grateful Bellatrix graduated two years ago. Saddened that Narcissa only has two years left herself.

But seeing her, Regulus has all the more reason to keep his chin held high and his shoulders squared, refusing to look nervous or overly excited, like the boy to his right does, who keeps breathing—noisily—through his mouth and wiping his nose on his sleeve. Regulus is a Black and he is noble and composed and proud and...

"Regulus Black."

...he's being summoned.

To the front of the hall he goes, taking a seat on the stool, grateful he doesn't have to practically climb the bloody thing like others have had to because the men in his family are never short and already, Regulus is a bit on the tall side for his age.

The Sorting Hat smells of dust and time and old things, worn fabric and a bit of sweat, like it needs to be given to Kreacher for a good scrubbing. In fact, its gravelly voice reminds him a little of Kreacher, makes him homesick.

Except then Regulus catches Sirius watching him from the Gryffindor table and he tries to straighten up, to vanish any trace of uncertainty or fright from his face. Sirius' expression is so calm, so expectant, and tinged with something Regulus does not recognize and therefore cannot place but it makes his stomach twist all up in lumpy knots all the same.

"Another Black," the Hat rumbles. "I've placed many a Black family member in Slytherin, you know."

He feels foolish, talking to a Hat, but Regulus murmurs so soft his mouth scarcely moves, "I know."

"But your brother, he went elsewhere, did he not? Gryffindor."

"He did."

"And where is it little Regulus Black wishes to go?"

Regulus' heart stops. Just...stops. He can't breathe. Would the hat truly make him choose? Between Slytherin—his parents, his cousins—and Gryffindor—his brother?

And at first he thinks Sirius Sirius Sirius I just want to be with—

Then he hears his mother's voice, shrieking until the walls tremble and Regulus cowers in his room with Kreacher trying to sooth him, as Mum calls Sirius a blood-traitor, a disgrace to the family, how could you run around with a bunch of mudbloods, letting them place you in that house how dare you how dare you and Sirius is calm, completely calm, which tells Regulus he's so far beyond angry and he just...

"Calm yourself," the Hat says. Before Regulus can say anything at all, it shouts to the waiting students, "Slytherin!"

The Hat is removed. Regulus rises. The Slytherin table give him bright smiles because, yes, the Black family belongs there. Narcissa has scooted over to make room for him, applauding, yet looking as though yes of course, I had no doubts. Even the boy from the train, Snape, seems to have thawed some.

But as he crosses the room, Regulus' heart won't stop thundering in his ears, and Sirius won't look at him anymore.