The Fire of The Phoenix - The Sorting

The Sorting Ceremony

THIS IS FROM THE FIRE OF THE PHOENIX'S UNIVERSE

Phoenix took a deep breath as she followed Professor McGonagall to the Great Hall to be sorted. That was it, the final line. She would wake up in her cupboard and it’d all have been a strangely nice dream that she was lucky to have had. Then it’d all return to normal, the beatings, the screams, chores and she’d go back to the life where “there’s no such a thing as magic.” and she’d pay hard for this bit of imagination - badly. Her body was stiff from the hidden bruises, her Uncle was generous enough to hit her where the clothes would cover, even if it was for his own benefit since she was still in pain. Hidden or not they still hurt the same.

She could feel the sweets she ate on the journey trying to come back to the atmosphere; her hands were shaking madly, her dark red hair falling on her face. Her heart was beating frantically, like it was about to explode. She felt someone grab her hand and recognized the touch, it was the only one who cared about her. Her twin brother, Harry, squeezed her hand and she returned. As long as he was with her, she would be okay.

-

To say that Regulus was nervous was an understandment. He knew how this worked, of course, he heard a lot about Hogwarts and about the house he should and would be in. Slytherin, the house for the ambitious and determined and for those who seek greatness. Known by three-quarters of the school – and the wizarding world - as the evil house, the house of the Dark Lord and where all bad wizards came from. That was a lie but trying to fight the prejudice was the same as trying to make a Death Eater – a follower of Voldemort – declare his love for a muggle – non-magical person.

The black haired boy wouldn’t let his nervousness show, though. It was the first thing you learned if you were raised by an old pureblood family, not to show emotions. Emotions showed weakness; your weakness could be used against you. It was just simple logic. He absent mindedly listened to his second cousin’s words, he was probably telling his troll-ish “friends” about what happened in the Hogwarts Express, about how Potter was hanging out with the blood-traitor weasel. Again.

If anyone asked him he would deny it but he was scared. He didn’t want to follow his parents’ footsteps but the boy knew what Uncle Lucius expected from him, what he wanted and Regulus didn’t think if he could do it. Regulus for once, didn’t agree with his family. Purebloods weren’t better than muggle-borns or “mudbloods” as he should call them according to the Black and Malfoy family view of things. Blood is blood; magic is magic. But even if he didn’t agree with them he didn’t want them to hate him. They were the only family he’d ever had after all. Draco’s the closest thing to a brother he ever had. “Well, let’s see if your brother will stick with you when he discovers you’re a blood traitor no better than the weasel boy. Oh, wait! He already knows.” Everyone did, so they tried to change him.

Regulus wished his parents were there his whole life, to tell him what he should do in a moment like that. Would they be proud of him if he didn’t relent to his Uncle’s manipulations? If he betrayed their beliefs? “Don’t be stupid, they were Death Eaters themselves. You’d probably be dishonoured.” That stupid voice was back.

He barely noticed the floating candles or the hundreds or heads staring at the first years. He was too busy pondering his thoughts and was only snapped out of them when he heard the stern Professor call his name.

“Black, Regulus.”

His legs carried him to the middle of the Great Hall where there was a stool and the worn out Sorting Hat. He thought he saw pain flash through Professor McGonagall’s eyes, but if he did it was gone as soon as it came.

He sat down and with shaky hands – which in the outside weren’t shaking at all – put the hat over his head.

“Hmm... the last of Blacks is finally here. Difficult, very difficult.” Said a deep voice in his head. “Where to put you? You have a good mind... Your ideas are all here.  But your ideas are great... you want to prove yourself different. Will do anything for it as well. Indeed you’re in for something great, my boy. You remind me of someone, your father precisely. He was in the same dilemma. His family’s support or his beliefs of what was right, don’t choose the wrong one, boy. That’s all I say.” Regulus barely had time to ponder about what the hat said when it shouted “SLYTHERIN” and the table on the far right cheered. He looked at Draco when he stood up and saw him smirking.