jegulus ♡

6:the reveal of true colours

Regulus found himself ensnared in a sea of eager first-years and a smattering of students from neighboring years, all heading toward the Sorting Ceremony much like he had during his initial year. The anticipation of a fresh start pulsed through him, mingled with apprehension. He silently yearned for a new beginning, one that would not echo his past experiences.

"Ravenclaw," he mused with a flicker of hope. "Or perhaps Hufflepuff." The thought of Slytherin, with its serpentine whispers and manipulative shadows, was enough to make him shiver. But Gryffindor? That was anathema to his very being. The loud, courageous, and vivacious nature of the Gryffindors seemed like a nightmare to him—too social, too bold, too everything he was not. And above all, the thought of his family’s potential disapproval was a specter that loomed ominously. Maybe—just maybe—it would be a relief to be disowned. No, Regulus, stop thinking such things. He berated himself silently. It was stupid, utterly foolish. Yet the pang of longing for Sirius’s presence was undeniable. He wouldn't admit it, but the silence and estrangement were a gnawing ache.

“Regulus Black,” Professor McGonagall’s voice cut through his reverie, crisp and authoritative.

He moved to the front of the room and seated himself upon the ancient, worn stool that was destined to reveal his fate. The Sorting Hat was placed upon his head, a shadow of ancient wisdom and endless intrigue.

“Hm, a ready mind,” it murmured, its voice a blend of aged tones and eerie echoes. “Certainly cunning. Brilliantly brave—”

“Brave?” Regulus interjected, a note of incredulity in his voice.

“Bravery is not the absence of fear, child, but the triumph over it,” the hat intoned sagely.

“Please, not Gryffindor,” Regulus implored, desperation lacing his tone.

“Why not? You have the potential to be truly great, you know...” The Sorting Hat’s voice was almost coaxing, as if it could see the inner turmoil of the boy before it.

“No,” Regulus whispered vehemently.

“Very well.” The Hat seemed to acquiesce, its tone final.

“BETTER BE RAVENCLAW!” The Sorting Hat’s declaration rang out, and a burst of applause and cheers erupted from the Ravenclaw table.

The blue and silver of Ravenclaw enveloped Regulus as his robes transformed to reflect his new house colors. Exhausted, he made his way to the Ravenclaw table, the weight of the day’s events pressing heavily upon him. He sank into a seat, feeling the collective relief and exhilaration of his new housemates. Yet, beneath the surface of his tired demeanor, the day seemed interminable, each moment dragging as he longed for it to end.

The Sorting Ceremony was a reveal of true colors—Regulus’s inner conflicts, his desires for something different, and his complex feelings about his past and future all laid bare. As he sat amidst the cheers of his new house, Regulus could only wonder what the future held and how the day’s revelations would shape his journey ahead.