Chapter 13: Where Dreams Begin
The rain had stopped without anyone noticing. Cracks opened in the cloud cover and the last light of sunset slanted in from the west, dyeing the compartment a warm orange.
The silhouette of the Scottish Highlands was already faintly visible — dark green mountains rising and falling in the dusk.
A gentle female voice came over the train's broadcast, announcing that the train would be arriving shortly and asking all students to gather their belongings.
Regulus closed his notebook and tucked it back inside his robe.
The train hurtled along the tracks, wheels striking rail joints in a steady rhythm — clack-clack, clack-clack.
It arrived at exactly seven o'clock.
The night sky blazed with stars. There was no moon, yet the starlight was bright enough to illuminate the bobbing heads and billowing steam on the platform.
Cold, damp air surged into the carriage, carrying the distinctive Highland blend of earth, pine needles, and magic.
"First-years! This way!"
A booming voice rang across the platform. Regulus stepped off the train with the flow of students. The platform was packed. Older students streamed toward the waiting carriages while the first-years gathered around a towering figure holding a lantern aloft.
It was Rubeus Hagrid — gamekeeper and Keeper of Keys. He stood like a small, mobile hill, the amber glow of the lantern illuminating his bushy beard and friendly grin.
"Come on, follow me! Watch your step now!"
Regulus followed the first-year procession down a steep, narrow path.
It wound through dense woodland, the stones beneath their feet slick with moisture, the darkness so complete that all one could see was the outline of the robe ahead and the occasional swirl of lantern light.
They rounded a bend.
The trees parted abruptly, and the view opened wide.
A vast, pitch-black lake lay before them, its surface still as glass, reflecting a sky full of stars.
And on the cliff across the water stood Hogwarts Castle.
Towers and spires rose like a forest of stone piercing the night sky. Windows glowed with warm yellow light, as though scattered stars had been caught and sealed within the rock.
The castle shimmered faintly under the starlight — ancient, majestic, mysterious — like a living legend waiting to be entered.
The first-years gasped collectively. Some whispered in awe; others seized a companion's arm in excitement.
Regulus stood at the water's edge, face tilted upward toward the castle.
He had read countless descriptions in books, imagined it countless times in dreams, but the real Hogwarts surpassed every description and every imagining combined — grander, more sweeping, more wondrous.
It was a dream.
And the place where dreams began.
"No more than four to a boat!" Hagrid's voice pulled everyone back to reality. He pointed to a row of small boats moored along the shore — tiny, wooden, without oars, but they would move on their own.
The first-years began splitting into groups. Regulus climbed into a boat with three other unfamiliar boys — a redhead covered in freckles, probably a Weasley.
The other two were a dark-haired boy with a tense expression and a blond boy who kept fussing with his collar.
The boats glided silently toward the center of the lake.
The water was black, fathomlessly deep. Something moved beneath the surface, casting vast, slow-moving shadows. Occasionally a dorsal fin broke the water, glinting coldly in the starlight.
"That's the giant squid," the redheaded boy whispered, his voice a blend of fear and excitement. "My brother says it doesn't hurt anyone. It even rescues students who fall in."
The boat lurched, and everyone grabbed the gunwale.
Regulus sat steady. He looked down into the water — at the moving shadows, at the stars reflected on its surface.
Then he raised his head and fixed his gaze on the approaching castle.
Through the brightly lit windows, he could picture what lay inside.
Four house tables laden with food, older students deep in conversation, professors murmuring among themselves at the high table.
And at the far end of the Great Hall, atop a wooden stool, the battered old Sorting Hat waited — ready to croak its way through the Hogwarts school song.
The boats touched the shore.
They climbed a flight of stone steps and arrived before an enormous oak door. Hagrid raised his massive fist and knocked three times.
The door opened.
Professor McGonagall stood inside, dressed in deep green robes, her hair swept into a severe bun, her expression as solemn as if she were presiding over a trial.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said, her voice clear and composed, carrying far in the echoing hall. "Before you enter the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony, there are a few things I must explain..."
Regulus stood among the first-years, listening as Professor McGonagall outlined the house system, the House Cup, and the rules of conduct. His eyes, however, drifted through the crack of the open doors to the scene beyond.
Inside the Great Hall, over a thousand candles floated in midair. Four long tables were packed with students, silverware reflecting the candlelight, robes forming rivers of color.
Scarlet and gold. Yellow and black. Blue and bronze. Green and silver.
At the high table, he spotted familiar faces. Dumbledore sat in the center, the blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles regarding the chattering young witches and wizards with gentle warmth.
Slughorn reclined with his great belly, beaming broadly.
The tiny Professor Flitwick perched on a high chair, deep in conversation with the kindly Professor Sprout beside him.
Regulus's gaze swept across the Slytherin table.
Nearly everyone sat with studied composure, working hard to maintain an air of noble dignity.
At the Gryffindor table, James Potter sat bolt upright, eyes locked on the door.
Sirius sat beside him, not looking toward the door, talking to Remus.
Lily Evans sat not far off, excitedly telling a dark-haired girl beside her something.
"Now, form a single line," Professor McGonagall said. "Follow me."
The first-years nervously straightened their robes and lined up. Regulus stood near the middle — ahead of him, a sniffling girl; behind him, a boy who would not stop trembling.
They walked into the Great Hall.
Hundreds of eyes fell upon them. Whispers surged and receded like waves. Regulus could feel the scrutiny, the curiosity, the anticipation, the disdain within those gazes.
He walked calmly, eyes fixed straight ahead.
At the far end of the hall, Professor McGonagall halted beside a tall stool upon which sat a ragged, patched, pointed wizard's hat.
It moved suddenly — the brim splitting open like a mouth — and began to sing.
The song was ancient and raspy, recounting the history and character of each house. Regulus listened, but his thoughts had already drifted far away.
He was thinking about the train — James's stunned face, Remus's look of awe, Peter's terrified trembling.
About Sirius not speaking to him.
About the stars outside the window.
The song ended. Applause filled the hall, and Professor McGonagall unfurled a long scroll of parchment.
"When I call your name, please step forward and put on the Sorting Hat."
The first name was called. A girl walked up, shaking, and the hat dropped over her head. A few seconds later it bellowed: "Hufflepuff!"
The yellow-and-black table erupted in cheers.
Name after name. House after house.
Regulus waited.
"Regulus Black!"
The murmuring swelled abruptly. Nearly everyone knew the name — even the Muggle-borns were aware that his brother had shattered five centuries of Black tradition the year before by going to Gryffindor.
All eyes were on the young Black, waiting to see where he would go.
Regulus walked forward calmly and sat on the stool.
Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head.
The hat was large — it slid down, blocking his vision and shutting out the light.
Then a thin voice spoke directly inside his mind:
"Hmm... another Black. Clever — very clever... Far more mature than your years... What are you thinking about? Not power, not glory... You are looking toward somewhere farther... very far indeed..."
Regulus kept his mind calm.
"Ravenclaw would suit your intellect. You do not lack courage, either. But you need access to that knowledge... In that case, best place you in —"
The hat drew a deep breath and bellowed: "Slytherin!"
The green-and-silver table burst into fervent applause. Rabastan led the clapping; Avery and Mulciber joined in, though their expressions were complicated.
Boos rose from the Gryffindor table — James loudest among them — but Sirius made no sound.
Regulus stood and walked to the Slytherin table. He sat down beside Rabastan.
"Welcome," Rabastan said.
"Thank you," Regulus replied.
The Slytherins around him offered handshakes one by one.
The Sorting continued. Regulus watched other familiar names called, watched new students drift toward their houses.
But his attention was no longer on any of that.
He lifted his gaze to the ceiling high above the Great Hall — enchanted to mirror the sky outside at this very moment.
The Milky Way arced across it, stars beyond counting, infinitely deep.