The rain had stopped at some point; the clouds parted, and the setting sun's afterglow slanted in from the west, painting the carriage in a warm orange.
The silhouette of the Scottish Highlands was already faintly visible, with dark green mountains undulating in the twilight.
The train intercom broadcast a gentle female voice, announcing that the train was about to arrive and asking students to pack their luggage and prepare to disembark.
Regulus closed his notebook and tucked it back into his robes.
The train sped along the tracks, the wheels rhythmically striking the rails with a steady "clack-clack—clack-clack—" sound.
The train arrived at exactly seven o'clock in the evening.
The night sky was thick with stars; there was no moon, but the starlight was bright enough to illuminate the bobbing heads and rising white mist on the platform.
Cold, damp air flooded into the carriage, carrying the scent unique to the Scottish Highlands—a mix of earth, pine needles, and the breath of magic.
"Firs'-years! Over here!"
A booming voice rang out on the platform, and Regulus followed the crowd off the train.
The platform was crowded; older students surged toward the waiting carriages, while the new students gathered around a tall figure holding a lantern.
That was Rubeus Hagrid, the gamekeeper and Keeper of Keys; he was like a moving hill, the orange glow illuminating his thick beard and friendly smile.
"C'mon then, kids! Follow me! Watch yer step!"
Regulus followed the line of first-years down a steep, narrow path.
The path wound through dense woods; the stones underfoot were slippery, and it was so dark that they could only see the outlines of the robes in front of them and the occasional flicker of the lantern's glow.
They turned a corner.
The woods suddenly parted, and the view opened up.
A vast, pitch-black lake lay there, its surface as calm as a mirror, reflecting the star-filled sky.
And on the cliff on the opposite side of the lake stood Hogwarts Castle.
Towers and turrets pierced the night sky like a stone forest, and warm yellow light shone from the windows, looking like scattered stars captured in stone.
The castle shimmered faintly under the starlight—ancient, solemn, and mysterious, like an old legend waiting to be entered.
The first-years let out a collective gasp; some whispered in awe, while others excitedly grabbed their companions' arms.
Regulus stood by the lake, looking up at the castle.
He had read descriptions of it countless times in books and imagined it countless times in his dreams, but the real Hogwarts was grander, more majestic, and more mysterious than all descriptions and imaginations combined.
It was a dream.
And it was also where the dream began.
"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid's voice pulled everyone back to reality; he pointed to a row of small boats moored by the lake—small, wooden, without oars, but they moved automatically.
The first-years began to board the boats in groups; Regulus got onto a boat with three other stranger boys—one was a red-haired, freckle-faced boy, probably a Weasley?
The other two were a dark-haired boy with a nervous expression and a blond boy who kept adjusting his collar.
The small boat glided silently toward the center of the lake.
The lake water was pitch-black and bottomless; something was swimming beneath the surface, casting large, slow shadows, and the occasional dorsal fin breaking the surface glinted coldly in the starlight.
"That's the Giant Squid," the red-haired boy whispered, his voice a mix of fear and excitement. "My brother says it doesn't hurt people; it even saves little wizards who fall into the water."
The boat suddenly rocked, and everyone grabbed the gunwales.
Regulus sat steadily, looking down at the lake water, watching those swimming shadows and the starry sky reflected in the water.
He looked up, turning his gaze back to the approaching castle.
He could imagine the scenes inside the brightly lit windows.
The four House tables laden with food, older students talking, and professors at the High Table discussing in low voices.
And on the wooden stool at the end of the hall, that tattered Sorting Hat would be waiting, ready to sing the Hogwarts school song in its harsh voice and tune.
The small boat docked.
They climbed a flight of stone steps to a massive oak door; Hagrid raised a huge fist and knocked three times.
The door opened.
Professor McGonagall stood inside, wearing deep green robes, her hair pulled into a strict bun at the back of her head, her expression as serious as if she were attending a trial.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," her voice was clear and calm, carrying far in the echoes of the hall. "Before you enter the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony, I have a few points to explain…"
Regulus stood in the line of first-years, listening to Professor McGonagall explain the House system, the House Cup, and the rules of discipline; his gaze drifted through the open crack of the door, looking inside.
In the Great Hall, thousands of candles floated in the air, students sat at the four long tables, silverware reflected the candlelight, and the colors of the robes merged into rivers.
Scarlet and gold, yellow and black, blue and bronze, green and silver.
At the High Table, he saw familiar faces; Dumbledore sat in the center, his blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles gently surveying the noisy young wizards.
Slughorn sat with his large belly protruding, his face full of smiles.
The tiny Flitwick sat on a high chair, talking with the kindly Sprout next to him.
His gaze swept across the Slytherin table.
Almost everyone sat there with reserve, striving to maintain a noble dignity.
At the Gryffindor table, James Potter sat bolt upright, his eyes fixed on the door.
Sirius sat beside him, not looking at the door, but talking to Remus.
Lily Evans sat not far away, excitedly saying something to a dark-haired girl beside her.
"Now, form a single file," Professor McGonagall said. "Follow me."
The first-years nervously straightened their robes and lined up; Regulus stood in the middle of the line, with a sniveling girl in front of him and a boy who wouldn't stop shivering behind him.
They walked into the Great Hall.
Hundreds of eyes fell upon them; whispers rose and fell like a tide. Regulus could feel the scrutiny, curiosity, anticipation, and disdain in those gazes.
He walked calmly, looking straight ahead.
Reaching the end of the hall, Professor McGonagall stopped by a high stool, on which sat a tattered, patched wizard's hat.
It suddenly moved; a rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and it began to sing.
The song was ancient and raspy, telling the history and characteristics of the four Houses; Regulus listened, but his thoughts had already drifted away.
He was thinking about what happened on the train—James's shocked face, Remus's awe-struck gaze, and Peter's terrified trembling.
He thought about how Sirius hadn't spoken to him.
He thought about the starry sky outside the window.
The song ended, applause rang out in the hall, and Professor McGonagall unfurled a long roll of parchment.
"When I call your name, please step forward and put on the Sorting Hat."
The first name was called; a girl walked forward trembling, the hat covered her head, and after a few seconds, it shouted: "Hufflepuff!"
The yellow and black table erupted in applause.
Name after name, House after House.
Regulus waited.
"Regulus Black!"
The whispers suddenly grew louder; almost everyone knew this name, even the Muggle-borns knew that his brother had broken five hundred years of Black family tradition last year by going to Gryffindor.
Everyone was watching to see where Black would go.
Regulus calmly stepped forward and sat on the high stool.
Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head.
The hat was large, blocking his vision and the light.
Then a tiny voice rang out directly in his mind:
"Hmm… another Black. Intelligent, very intelligent… far more mature than your peers… What are you thinking? Not power, not glory… you are looking further… much further…"
Regulus kept his thoughts calm.
"Ravenclaw would suit your wisdom, and you don't lack courage either, but you need to acquire that knowledge… well then, better be—"
The hat took a deep breath and shouted: "Slytherin!"
The green and silver table erupted in enthusiastic applause; Rabastan led the cheering, and Avery and Mulciber clapped as well, though their eyes were complex.
Boos came from the Gryffindor table, led by James, but Sirius remained silent.
Regulus stood up and walked toward the Slytherin table, sitting down beside Rabastan.
"Welcome," said Rabastan.
"Thank you," Regulus replied.
The surrounding Slytherins shook hands with him one after another.
The Sorting continued; Regulus saw other familiar names being called and other first-years heading to their respective Houses.
But he was no longer paying attention to that.
He looked up at the high ceiling of the hall, which was enchanted to reflect the starry sky outside at that moment.
The Milky Way stretched across, thick with stars, infinitely deep.
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