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chapter eighteen,
turning point
A couple of hours later, Beatrice was sitting in between Sirius and Peter at the Gryffindor table, waiting for the first-years to come through the entry-way to be sorted. For some unknown reason, Remus was still in an awful mood, and sitting about fifteen places down the table next to Lily and some third-year called Frank Longbottom.
"What house do you think your brother will be in?" James asked Sirius.
Sirius shrugged, "Probably Ravenclaw — he's a massive nerd."
Beatrice shot Sirius a reproachful look, "You shouldn't make generalizations like that. Lucius says it builds unnecessarily onto house rivalries."
"Lucius says it builds unnecessarily onto house rivalries," Sirius imitated in a high pitched voice. Beatrice punched his shoulder.
"Besides, Regulus could be a Gryffindor too. You never know." But even as Beatrice said this, she couldn't help but hear a nagging voice at the back of her head saying otherwise. If Regulus Black wasn't the perfect Slytherin, who was? She shook her head and reminded herself that houses don't really matter — she still got on perfectly well with Lucius, even if he had obliterated her in the House Cup last year.
A few more minutes passed, and Professor McGonagall finally led the first-years into the Great Hall.
"Look, there he is!" Beatrice whispered to Sirius, who just rolled his eyes.
With the last name Black, it shouldn't have been surprising that Regulus was one of the first-students to be sorted, but Beatrice would have sworn that she didn't even have time to blink before Professor McGonagall lowered the hat down onto her friend's head.
Regulus Black wasn't a Hatstall, but the sorting hat didn't call out his house as soon as it brushed against his head. In fact, his sorting seemed entirely average to everybody around him. The hat whispered away into his ear for about twenty seconds before it finally called out his response — and Regulus wouldn't share its words with anybody else for another seven years. "SLYTHERIN!"
Regulus refused to meet Beatrice's eyes as he made his way over to the Slytherin table, sitting down next to a second-year boy she vaguely recognized to be Severus Snape.
"Tough luck then," James said, patting Sirius on the back.
But Sirius looked surprisingly pleased. "He was a Hatstall!" the young Gryffindor exclaimed happily. "It didn't sort him as soon as it touched his head, it had to wait a bit first!" Beatrice and James exchanged hesitant eye-contact.
