𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝐬𝐭, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟏
The Great Hall hummed and rattled with conversation. Flags of red, green, blue, and gold all swayed from where they had been suspended midair above the masses of students. Shrieks of excitement rang out every so often and you could feel the vibrations rising up through your feet from where you stood in the midst of a sea of black cloaks and matching cone caps. Most of the voices had been compelled into silence under the stern yet welcoming gaze of Professor McGonagall.
"RAVENCLAW!"
The sorting hat cackled, startling you out of your daze. A girl happily hopped down from the ancient looking wooden stool and skipped over to the long table at the far side of the room. She was one of the first Ravenclaws to be sorted that evening and the table was roaring with applause, much to her delight.
Your eyes desperately darted back over to the table draped in red and gold fabric, desperately seeking out the eyes of your brother, James. He was one of the first to be sorted, despite the fact that you shared a last name. He'd gotten Gryffindor, same as your mother and father. Same as your great-grandmother and great-grandfather, and same as the loud, friendly boy you'd both met on the train who'd introduced himself proudly as Sirius Black.
Despite only being introduced a few hours prior, he and your brother seemed to get along famously. They shared the same sense of excitement for everything they did, the same never-tired longing for adventure that you could never offer.
The closer you inspected the Gryffindor table, the more it seemed that James had already made friends with a number of other boys seated beside him on the long bench: A taller, gangly boy with a head of near-auburn hair, and a shorter, timid looking one who seemed to cower where he sat, hands folded before him.
"Bellatrix Black."
McGonagall called out the next name, ruffling the stretched roll of parchment in her hands, though her tone was stale and void of expression. The girl who had been standing just beside you, with wild black hair and an upturned button nose, shoved her way past the remaining first years to the very front, hopping up onto the platform and spinning around confidently. She looked proud, chin tilted toward the enchanted ceiling that was twinkling with stars and wisps of grey clouds.
The new gaping space at your side where she had been standing made you even more aware of the fact that you were one of the remaining five first-years yet to be sorted. You tried to seek out your brother once more, desperate for his soothing nod of approval that all older brothers seemed to possess. Even if he were only ten months your senior, he had an air of regency that not many other eleven year-old boys possessed.
Just as you were about to give up, you caught his hazel eye with a flicker of candle light reflecting from his wide-brimmed wire glasses. He'd been quite proud of them before school started, parading himself through Diagon Alley with his hew eyewear perched high on his nose. But you could see him twitching to remove them now, surrounded by other boys of his age. Knowing James, he'd likely rather be rendered blind than deal with any sort of scrutiny from his peers.
"SLYTHERIN!" the hat bellowed after only seconds of being placed onto Bellatrix's head.
The green and silver donned table erupted into a fit of cheers and belted laughter. The other houses were painfully silent, excluding the Gryffindors who booed and groaned loudly. Though the bodies of students were ever-shifting, you could make out just enough of their table to see James and his new gang of buddies joining in, sticking out their downward pointed thumbs to the poor girl who looked on with an unknowing grin.
"(Y/N) Potter."
The scroll trembled in McGonagall's hands. Your name seemed foreign in her accented voice and it took you a moment to realize it was your name she had called. The Great Hall went painfully silent; so much so that you could hear your own footfalls clacking against the flagstone floors as you tiptoed down the path that the other first years had carved out for you without being asked.
With wobbling knees, you stepped up onto the platform. As you did, a wave of whispers reached your back. It seemed that everyone else was aware of the unspoken Potter legacy. The Potters' were the family of Gryffindors.
The family of lions.
The family that bled red and gold.
And you stuck out like a sore thumb as it was.
Your mother reassured you several times over throughout your life that your appearance was nothing to be concerned over. She said that when you first magicked your hair to grow (Y/H/C) instead of chocolate brown, the family held a celebration. It was the day they knew you were magic. But no one else knew that. All everyone else knew was that you looked different.
Despite how many times you held staring contests in your bathroom mirror at home, wishing and praying to somehow reverse its effects, nothing ever changed.
"Sit, dear," McGonagall chided softly, the words rolling off of her tongue. Your face flushed, realizing that you had been standing still, staring awestruck at the hat hanging from her grasp. Even James and Sirius, who'd been chuckling hushedly to each other this entire evening, had gone completely silent once you sat down.
You nearly jumped as the hat was placed down onto your head. The Great Hall was holding its breath, not uttering a single chant or cheer that echoed in your mind from earlier.
"Aha," the hat snarled, considering you beneath it. You winced and dipped your head into your chest before straightening your shoulders once more. It's words were drawn out and slowed as it pondered just exactly what it wanted to do with you. Looking up, you could see the brim of the hat wobble and warp in front of your face and instantly, a phrase came to mind.
Hatstall.
You had heard it on the train, just hours earlier. The older students used it to describe someone whose brain was so muddled that the hat had to sweep away all of the nonsense before it could get to your defining characteristics. Sirius told you not to listen to them, that they were all silly stories, but after more than a minute under the hat's judgement, you could almost hear the taunting names as you cowered down the halls to your classes.
Hatstall. Hatstall. Hatstall.
"A curious case..." the Sorting Hat rumbled. "A Potter you say? A Potter indeed." You winced at its mocking tone. The eyes of the other students felt like pins and needles on your face. "I see...trusting and practical...wise and resourceful. You value fraternity and friendship. These traits might be misconstrued but I am no fool, your sense of pride is all but none. The courage inside of you is barely outweighed by your own self-preservation."
You had no idea what this meant, but you knew for certain as another hush fell over the crowd and students leaned forward in their seats to hear the hat better, that it must've been telling.
"A kind soul with a healing heart. A student like you will change the face of...SLYTHERIN!"
The table shrouded in green and silver inhaled and a jumble of fellow first years with cone-shaped hats raised their hands to clap but were stopped short by the upperclassmen who held them back from making a single sound.
Slowly, then all at once, mortification washed over your face and your jaw went slack. Years, decades, centuries of tradition now broken. By you. You barely noticed as the hat was swept off your head but you rose to your feet all the same, daring yourself to tilt your head a fraction to the side to steal a glance at James.
His jaw was nearly making contact with the wooden table in front of him. The gentle-looking tawny-haired boy was whispering something in his ear, but it didn't look as though it was reaching him completely. The shorter boy was playing with a fork at his placemat and Sirius...
Sirius was the only one without disappointment swimming in his eyes. His gaze ran deeper. His eyes were pools swirling with understanding and what you could have sworn was excitement.
"Thank you, Ms. Potter." McGonagall said, clearing her throat softly. She placed her hand on the back of your robes and nudged you toward the Slytherin table, all of whom seated there were watching you with expectant eyes. The second you shifted off of the platform, a low-hanging hum of conversation rose up again and another name was soon called.
"Frank Longbottom."
But you were barely paying attention anymore.
There were rows of open seats reserved for freshly-sorted first years at the very end of the table. Without looking anyone directly in the eye, you sat down and began fumbling with a loose string on the sleeve of your robes. There was a boy seated directly at your right with shoulder-length steely-blonde hair. He shot you an unassuming look as you took your seat beside him, but he didn't seem to pay you any mind after that.
He'd been one of the first to get sorted after James. Something Malfoy, you thought.
The green and silver table cloth shimmered and shone like snake scales in the candle light. You didn't understand why being in Slytherin was such a taboo, or why your brother had booed as the other first-years were corralled into this corner of the Great Hall. All that you knew was that you were dreading having to face him again.
A single hand shot out and obscured your vision, compelling you to glance upwards.
"Potter, is it?"
Your eyelashes fluttered as you blinked furiously. Sitting directly across from you at the table was none other than the girl who had been sorted right before you, Bellatrix. Unlike before, where she carried an air of importance and disdain for those around her, she seemed comfortable at the Slytherin table. Like she'd been waiting her entire life to claim her seat at it.
"Y-Yes," you chirped nervously. She beamed and reached down for your hand, taking it in hers and shaking it wildly. "Bellatrix Black. Are you a pureblood?"
"Bella!" A timid voice cried out.
You looked beside Bellatrix where two other girls were seated in her shadow. Neither of them bore a house crest across their robes so you knew right away that they were first-years also. The girl who'd raised her voice licked her lips and drew herself back. She had straight near-white blonde hair that fell just under her chin and a mousy complexion. "You cannot simply ask someone to reveal their blood-status after just meeting them!"
"I'm terribly sorry, Cissy, but it appears you're the only one who paid attention during mother's etiquette lessons." Bellatrix chided with an evil grin before turning back to you, gripping your hand tightly in her manicured fingers. "Are you?"
"I-I, yes I am."
"Brilliant! We will get along nicely then." She let go of your limp hand and you tucked it back into your sleeves. Bellatrix's smile reminded you of a vulture circling over the head of a poor animal that she knew was about to die. "These are my sisters," she introduced, pointing to the girl who'd criticized her just moments before. "Narcissa is the youngest, but you may call her Cissy as we do."
You waved and Narcissa nodded sheepishly, looking down at her empty place setting. Bellatrix pointed past her at the other girl who was twiddling her wand between her fingers with no regard for the current conversation. "This is Andromeda, or Andy. She's the middle child. I'm the eldest and you may call me Bella."
Andromeda looked up from her wand and eyed you indifferently before going back to her own business. "It's nice to meet you all," you offered, not knowing what else you were expected to say. You didn't feel nearly as alone now, but the deep-pitted feeling of mortification lingered in your gut long after Headmaster Dumbledore excused you all for bed and Bella once again grabbed your hand, yanking you to your feet and out into the corridor.
She and her sisters chattered loudly to each other, excitement for the schooldays to come brimming in their voices. You lingered back, struggling to keep pace with the rest of the crowds that moved through the expansive halls of the school like a single organism. You told yourself that you could face James at breakfast just to quiet the anxious feelings brewing inside of you.
Just as you were about to turn the corner and continue on through the corridor, you felt something strong secure itself around your elbow and yank you backward into a deep alcove between two meticulously carved sandstone podiums. "Hey—" you went to cry out before getting a good look at your aggressor.
"Just me!" James chuckled, though his voice was strained. He ran a hand through the back of his hair, letting go of your arm so you could adjust your robes with a huff. "Well," he chuckled, stepping aside so you could see the short parade of boys lingering behind him. "And these blokes."
You looked on in confusion as he threw his arm around the taller boy's shoulders. "This here is Remus. Remus Lupin."
The lanky boy offered you a lopsided half-smile and you nodded in greeting. James ruffled Remus' hair and then reached behind him to clap the shorter boy on the arm. "And this is Peter Pettigrew."
He was certainly the least assertive of the four boys in front of you and only raised his hand in a meek half-wave upon being introduced. Behind him, Sirius loitered with his arms crossed, face half-hidden in the shadow of a massive bronze portrait frame that hung above the five of you.
"You didn't forget that you promised to meet up with me after the feast, did you?" James asked, drawing your attention back to him. "No," you lied, when the truth was that you'd planned on avoiding him ever since the hat announced your fate. "I just...I got lost."
"Well be glad I found you," he grinned, untangling his arms from his friends to pull on your wrist once more. "Come with me."
"What—hey!" you tried to yank yourself out of your brother's grasp as he pulled out out of the alcove and into the now emptied corridor. You looked behind you to see the last of the green-robed Slytherins disappearing around the corner. "Where are we going? I need to stay with my group."
"Don't you worry about them," he dismissed. "Remus and I talked to McGonagall. She said she'd make a special case for a Potter. We're getting you re-sorted."
You halted, digging your heels into the stone floors. "Re-sorted?" You parroted, a look of disbelief flashing over your features. James frowned and whirled around to study you. "C'mon, (Y/N). You don't actually believe that you belong with those scheming snakes. That girl before you must've tainted the hat with her wickedness. It was just confused."
A string of chuckles made its rounds through the boys, ending with Sirius who's eyes darted between you and James. You smiled nervously but still shook your hand out of his. "It's fine, James, really."
"Fine?" He repeated. "This is the opposite of fine. I'm not going to stand around and let my baby sister believe that she's a Slytherin when she's clearly not."
"Why must you say it like that?" You spoke, voice barely wavering above a whisper.
"Like what?" He tested.
"Like it burns your tongue just to admit it. Is it so awful that I'm a Slytherin?"
Just like when McGonagall called your name in the Great Hall, it went dreadfully silent in the corridor. Sirius cleared his throat behind you, drawing the attention of Remus and Peter. "C'mon, boys," he said, grabbing both of them by the scruff of the neck and dipping away further down the hall. "We've got unpacking to do."
You listened as their footsteps grew softer and softer, not daring to speak until it was just you and James left alone. You took a shallow breath, watching the torch-light flicker in his eyes. It reflected off of his glasses and made you feel even further from him then you already were.
"Hundreds of years, hundreds of Gryffindors. How could you possibly believe yourself to be anything different?" There was no malice in his voice, just concern. And you knew that he was only acting in the best interest of his family. Despite this, you were prepared to defend yourself and this new piece of yourself that your brother hated for no apparent reason.
"I don't know, but I am."
James' face went sticken. "You're not. End of story."
"Stop it!" You squealed when he tried to grab you again. You jumped back at his advancement, ignoring how his eyes softened at your fearful expression in favor of spinning around and sprinting back down the hall, putting as much distance between you and your brother as physically possible.
A set of stairs appeared before your bleary eyes and you didn't think twice before reaching out to grip the handrail and start bounding down them three steps at a time. You had no idea if that was the correct way to go, but you honestly didn't care as long as it got you someplace private where you could cry without being disturbed.
Bellatrix had said something at the feast about dungeons, so you weren't half as surprised when the stairs bottomed out into a cool labyrinth of glistening dark stone and tall windows that only allowed filtered green moonlight to slip through.
After walking for another few minutes, you sat down on a dry ledge within an empty alcove that was much smaller than the one James had yanked you into earlier. It was only then, seated amongst the moss and cool breezes, that you finally allowed yourself to cry.
Why couldn't James just pretend to be happy for you, even if he were lying to himself? You could always get re-sorted, cheat your way into Gryffindor, but you would always know exactly where you were supposed to be. Where you truly belonged.
"(Y/N)?"
Your breath hitched, head snapping upwards to see the silhouette of a dark figure at the end of the hall. His footsteps had slowed significantly, but it was obvious by his wracking shoulders that he'd ran a long distance. "Sirius?"
His eyes were dark in the dimly-lit dungeon. You could hear the faraway tapping of dripping lake water on mossy stone as it synced up to his approaching footsteps. "What are you doing here?" you choked. You'd only met this boy today and he'd already seen you at your worst point. Brilliant.
"James sent me to find you," he offered. There was no trace of persuasion in his voice and you knew right away that he didn't come to convince you of anything.
"Whatever would he do that for?" You quipped, watching cautiously as he sighed and sat down on the ridge beside you, ducking so that the brick arch barely brushed against the top of his head.
"Because he figured I would understand how to address the situation best."
"Understand?"
Sirius chuckled, but it was a sad sound. "I'm the only Gryffindor in the Black family."
Your mouth gaped open like a fish out of water. He certainly hadn't alluded to this background when booing the first-years sorted into Slytherin, or when James was insisting you get yourself re-evaluated. Sirius took your silence as an invitation and cleared his throat, leaning back against the wet stone. "My parents, cousins, even my brother. All Slytherin. Not a single speck of red or gold."
And suddenly you understood why your brother had sent him.
"Oh."
"And don't you mind James," he said with a grin, suddenly emerging from his saddened state. "He means well, surely."
"Yeah," you scoffed. "He's got a foul way of showing it, then."
"Brothers are like that sometimes, yeah?"
You looked up from your lap to see that Sirius was looking right at you, eyes blinking steadily against the darkness. As if sensing that you were deep in thought, he chuckled lowly once more and leaned back. "The hat knows what's best. You were right to trust it."
Before you could even consider replying, a beam of bright white light cut through the shadows and made you squint, bringing up a hand to shield your eyes from the glare. Both you and Sirius looked up to see a boy standing there, wand drawn and emerald green robes on full display.
"Sirius," said the mysterious boy, lowering his wand. "What are you doing with one of my first years?"
"Your—" the boy beside you started to question before pursing his lips together in a thin line and turning his head to the side. "Nothing, Regulus. Absolutely nothing."
Sirius rose to his feet and dusted off his black robes before turning around to face you once more. "I'll let James know that you're in good hands."
You watched him leave, footsteps slapping against the wet stone of the dungeon floor. After only a moment or two, it was just you and the strange boy, Regulus, standing alone in the dark. Despite the limited light, you could tell that he was an upperclassmen. He had intense dark circles under his smokey-grey eyes that were only further illuminated by his pale skin. But he resembled Sirius in the vaguest way. They had the same air about them; important but not willing to admit it.
"Follow me," he spoke suddenly. "First-years aren't permitted in this part of the dungeon. I'll take you back to the common room."
Regulus spun back around, his robes billowing in the non-existent breeze behind him as he stomped briskly back up the way you had come originally. You didn't know how to reply so you just remained silent, practically running to keep up with his lengthy footfalls.
(A/N: I apologize for making this so massive. It's like pushing 4000 words but I didn't want to do two chapters in 1st year and cut directly to 6th year so...boom, massive chapter. Next one is shorter, obviously. But I hope you enjoy so far! I really like writing this story and I have a lot of content planned for the future! Let me know if you see anything that needs fixing. Also yes, I plagiarized the entire sorting hat speech from SOD because I only ever have an original thought once a century. That's all! Happy reading!)