Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Regulus Arcturus Black is holding onto his sleeves, standing by the Black family tree. He feels the dead, cold weight of expectations wrung around his shoulder. His eyes turn to his father, Orion, then flicker to Walburga, slightly flinching at even the writing of her name. Then to Cygnus, Druella, and his older cousins.

Regulus knew those girls would never be treated right, as Cygnus desperately needed a son. No matter the dominant personality of Bellatrix, she’ll never be seen as his son, his heir, but rather a mistake and disobedient daughter. This may be the only time Regulus has a slither of sympathy for his oldest cousin.

His eyes slowly come across the line between Orion and Walburga, to Sirius being blasted off. He thought back to the fond memories of Sirius sneaking him food when his mother had starved him, taking him to muggle parks and spending the summer in Uncle Alphard’s house in Italy. These were the fondest memories he had of Sirius, how his older brother was proudly defiant and practically bragging to mother about his wreckless resistance.

Regulus thought back to a time where he saw Sirius as the greatest man alive. Now Sirius is merely a fool. He gave up the chance of being an heir to the house of Black, he gave up the money, the respect and most importantly, the legacy. However as much as Regulus scrutinised him, he knew Sirius never strived for any of these, and since his betrayal of brotherhood, he has in turn left Regulus to become the heir.

He can’t be disappointed in his brother leaving, he should be grateful that he left the position to inherit the title Lord Black, to be the one and only son worthy of keeping his name and continuing the honourable legacy.

“Regulus, why am I hearing of that Crouch boy wishing to see you?”
His thoughts of Sirius are snapped back as the sharp tone of his mother quip. Regulus felt a droplet of sweat running down the back of his neck.
“I haven’t been informed, mother.” He knew it was Barty wishing to spend time with him, considering that he didn’t know what it was like to have an overbearing parent, only an absent parent.
“Very well. You will not speak to this boy outside of Hogwarts, it will ruin your reputation as heir of Black.”

Regulus nodded as her heels clicked away. Finally, he turned back to the family tree, piercing his eyes on the freshly painted portrait of him. The painting was done on his sixteenth birthday, and the memory of it was him to throw up. He’d take anything to rip his portrait and be free of this lineage. In another universe, Regulus will live a regular life, maybe even as a muggle, he hopes to himself.

———

Regulus has felt this unbearable chill before, an incurable ache in his bones as his ribs caged his heart. He was lying on the floors of Grimmauld place, at the feet of Warburga Black. A loud sneering sound could also be heard, it was Bellatrix cackling at the sound cracking bones. Narcissa stared, lips pursed and unable to meet Regulus’ eyes.

Footsteps could be heard leaving the room, whilst the hyena hysterics slowly faded away with only the sharp tone of Walburga Black echoing the hallway. A few minutes went by as soon it became all silent, and Regulus was the only one in the hallway. Slowly, he sauntered up to his hands and knees, stumbling to be assisted by Kreacher. The only being Regulus could rely on was the kind house elf who stayed loyal to his master even if it meant secretly disobeying his mistress.

Regulus tumbled up the stairs to his room, with Kreacher following foot.

“What vials is it that master needs?” Kreacher asked, curiously. Regulus’ lips twitched and nothing but a grunt sounding like “bezoar” left his mouth, and a finger pointed at a drawer. Kreacher carefully opened the drawer, looking through the vials and pulled a small bottle labelled “bezoar”. Kreacher walked over to Regulus’ limp body and administered the draught to his lips. Regulus felt his neck slowly sew the broken skin back together.

Regulus quickly dismissed Kreacher and hauled himself onto his bedside. He was used to Walburga’s antics, but he had not anticipated the possibility of being punished today. That possibility his wretched brother had left him to endure Walburga by himself. Tears rimmed his eyes, as the betrayal of Sirius had slashed deeper than any of the wounds his mother had given him.

From this day on, I must become perfect.

I will become the perfect, sole heir of the Ancient and Noble House of Black.

Sirius has made his choice, he thought to himself, and now it is time to make his. Regulus will seek revenge and will become the embodiment of Sirius’ previous expectations. Sirius will choke on his choices when he sees Regulus.

Except Sirius isn’t entirely at fault for his choice to abandon Regulus in this cruel unloving household. No. A loud, greedy boy has stolen Sirius as a brother for himself. He’s well-loved, arrogant, good with girls, thick-headed, popular and self-centred. His name is James Potter and at this moment Regulus may just hate him more than Walburga and Sirius combined.

Nothing shall defeat the Heir of the House of Black.

No task is greater than Regulus Black, a boy who’s endured the wrath of Walburga Black, a boy who’s been betrayed by the son who swore to protect him from their mother, a boy who’s been rejected as a brother for some egomaniac who has no wits nor intelligence. He’s good with the girls, he’s popular at parties and everybody loves a good Quidditch star. Not a single day goes by without Regulus pathetically sobbing over how Sirius picked a boy who was the opposite of him for his brother.

Regulus simply has never been good enough, he thinks to himself. Maybe he should have taken more beatings like Sirius. Maybe he should have been sorted into Gryffindor like Sirius. Maybe he should have been louder in his rebellion against his parents, just like Sirius. Maybe James is more favourable because Sirius and him have more loud, eccentric personalities.

No matter, Regulus will plant this bitter seed and watch it grow into a resentment of a rose. Only the most hideous actions can make the most difference in this world. Regulus will reap revenge if it is the last thing he does. He’ll seek the slips of every sugar-coated secret, find any loose ends they forgot to take care of, and Regulus will show those that hurt him that he wasn’t unworthy of them, they were unworthy of him.

He will repeat these words for himself as he enters the train to Hogwarts for his sixth year.

———

Regulus shifted uncomfortably in his silk robes, sitting in an empty train compartment. He was awaiting his friends to find him, a very usual routine for them every year. Tilting his head back, he remembered a time where he had first met Barty on this train.

The memories of a jaunty boy with a mischievous grin swaggering into the abandoned carriage, and young Regulus wrinkled his nose at the sight of this. A memory suddenly engraved back into his head, of Sirius leaving him for James in another carriage, just moments earlier. This is why Regulus remembered it as the abandoned carriage.

“Regulus?” A soft voice snatched him of the rekindling memories of Sirius. His eyes glanced up to meet an ethereal, blonde girl who stood daintily. Regulus’ eyes opened a little more, picking at the details of Pandora. Sitting in kitschy clothing, Regulus glances at the gala of flowers complimenting her fair hair slicked into two pigtails.

“Pandora” leaves his mouth, softening his slack jaws. She beams politely and starts to ramble about her summer, how she spent time at the Rosier manor with her twin brother Evan, how she attended the Yaxley wedding. Regulus remembers the wedding of Corban Yaxley and Valeria Flint, how superfluous the bride’s gown was, the alcohol he consumed alongside the Rosier twins and Avery trailing by his side like a stray. Regulus hated how Avery had followed him relentlessly throughout the wedding, he thought of Avery as an inferi chasing onto the nearest flesh.

Soon Barty strolls into the carriage with Evan at his hip. Regulus’ eyes flickered between the two. One pale skinned boy with coloured hair, piercings and an anarchy symbol drawn with complex ink seeping through his neck, wearing some muggle band patches across his cargo trousers and a ratty jacket grinned at him with another deep skinned boy, his long blonde dreadlocks covering his face with rich blue robes covering any skin below his neck. Curiously, Regulus found the contrast of the two pureblooded boys poetic, one who is brave enough to defy the pureblood norms with a father absent at the ministry and another who is cowardice to conform to his family, the other swinging around aimlessly like a fruitfly. Still, Regulus took pity on both, he knew that Evan was simply following to be the heir to the House of Rosier whilst Barty’s dangerous stunts were to get the attention of a father who neglected him.

The three of them started to chat, but Regulus couldn’t find their voices as they muddled into the noise of the train beginning to depart and crowds of parents waving off their gifted children to such a prestigious school. He was looking for his best friend, the one he favoured amongst all. Dorcas Meadowes. A tall girl, slightly taller than Regulus, with large dark doe eyes and brown braids straight down to her chest. She has a musty scent mixed with Agarwood and Saffron.

“And then, I had seen this curious vision which I simply could not fathom.” Hearing Pandora’s visions was one of the few things that intrigued Regulus more than it should. You see, Pandora is gifted with a special ability to see visions of her dreams which are linked to fate and the future. Despite Barty’s neverending mocking Pandora’s abilities, they all know that what she envisions will warn her of what the future holds. Regulus has only known Pandora since his third year, later than the others as she was a Ravenclaw, but he has seen what she is capable of.

“Pan, nobody wants to hear nutty dreams on the first day.” Barty remarks, with Evan snickering next to him. Regulus notices that the two of them had been awfully touchy, with Evan resting his head on Barty’s shoulder, as Barty’s hand rested slung round his back resting on his thighs. Pandora bit her lip, she was always bashful about her visions.
“That’s rich coming from someone who only rambles about muggle bands and his weird obsession with defying his father.” A slick response comes from a girl leaning on the open door of a carriage, smirking with glee holding Regulus’ eyes.
“Dorcas!” Barty exclaims, another grin spreading across his face. Pandora beams at her, inviting Dorcas to sit with her opposite the boys. Dorcas takes this cue and meets the line of Evan’s keen eyes. A dark red and gold bracelet hangs on her right wrist.

“A gift from Marlene.” She says, slightly flushed. Regulus raises an eyebrow but does not utter a word. It’s not out of character for Dorcas to socialise with the Gryffindor girls, she’s not a blood supremacist like most other Slytherins. She is not loud about her defiance, she conforms enough that she is still treated with respect by her pure-blooded peers. Regulus does not believe in envy, but if he did, he might just be envious of how naturally Dorcas blends in with whoever without being an obnoxious extrovert and maintains her masks, never showing any of her dealt cards.

Chapter Text

Regulus watches Evan and Barty snicker and amble towards the two closest beds in the room; he says nothing but his expression of concern grows prominent. Instead of following suit and choosing a bed, Regulus perches on the windowsill looking out towards the quidditch fields, wondering who the captain of the Slytherin team will be this year. Between Lily Selwyn or Percival Nott, Regulus would rather Nott be captain, as in Regulus’ eyes, he could bend Nott into letting him off practice. Besides, everyone knew that Regulus was the best seeker in the whole of Hogwarts, Regulus feels that no captain should ever force him to practice with a team of inferi.

Regulus’ eyes catch focus of an overly cheerful boy in a Gryffindor jersey race around on his broomstick, with another insolent quidditch player following him. Regulus could recognise that unmistakable name on the back of the kit, “Potter”. Regulus felt his hand pinch his nose in disgust at the sight of the boy Sirius chose over him. He watched Potter aimlessly frolic around on his broomstick as some blonde girl chased after him. Recognition flickered through his eyes as he realised that this was Marlene McKinnon, Dorcas’s close friend.

The person Sirius has replaced him for speaks with the person Dorcas will replace him for.

Fascinating.

Regulus felt his heart stop at the thought of Dorcas stopping her routine of secretly rooming with the boys, to imagine her sneaking up to the Gryffindor girl’s dorm to spend more and more time with Marlene. He could not let himself get left again. Even if Dorcas had asked Regulus in advance, Regulus could not look her in the eye and tell her how he felt, but rather meaninglessly brood and imply he doesn’t particularly care, when in fact he cares more than Dorcas herself. He supposes that one of the prices to be the heir of Black is simply to be lonely as there is no other heir to such a noble house.

There are some nights where Regulus cannot sleep, he cannot escape the voice of Walburga Black’s harsh words nor the screams of his older brother as a child, begging for Regulus to be spared of the beating. Regulus has a feeling that tonight may be one of these nights. Glancing back from the window, he lays eyes on Barty laying on Evan’s lap, as Evan continues to write in his journal.
“Ya alright, Reg?” Barty asks, noticing the cold stare placed upon him. Regulus nods with no response to be heard, but simply places his trunk on the bed furthest from Evan and Barty, and begins to unpack.

Regulus hangs up his robes, uniform and nightwear, then turns to the suitcase. He pulls out a pair of muggle jeans that Dorcas had bought him a while back. He quite liked them, and knew keeping them here at Hogwarts was safer than Walburga potentially laying her hands on them. He also fished out a couple of muggle t-shirts, and then a few sweaters. Surprisingly, Regulus enjoyed collecting these muggle clothes, as if these fabrics were a sign of his slow, silent defiance. All Regulus wished for was that he could get his hands on another pair of jeans, maybe a pair less tight fitting and darker. He couldn’t borrow from Barty, whose jeans had massive rips and large band patches ironed all over them and he didn’t think Evan owned muggle clothes. By the time Regulus had done unpacking, he noticed that Barty had started to playfully curl his hands around Evan’s locks.

A bubble of anger shot up through Regulus’ mouth, for a reason Regulus couldn’t explain, but he swallowed the bubble and lay his head down. But his head shot right up, this time catching the attention of Evan. Evan snapped his journal shut, putting it to a nightstand with the fountain pen.
“What’s with you, Regulus?” Evan asked, in a calm manner. Evan has never been one to raise his voice. Regulus stopped midpace to the wardrobe, turning to Evan with a best attempt of hiding a scowl.
“What’s with you two?” He has decided to be honest today, to unconceal his feelings and get his answers.

The two boys on the bed look at each other, then look back at Regulus with an expression Regulus can’t quite read.
“Nothing.” Evan stated quietly, tilting his head so slightly to inspect Regulus. Regulus swallowed, knowing that clearly something was happening and that he had been left out of it.
“Listen, mate, it’s nothing personal. We’ll tell you when we’re ready.” Barty shot up, clearly reading that Regulus wasn’t buying Evan’s denial. Regulus took a sharp inhale and straightened up.

“Very well.” He drawled, suddenly realising how formal he had become with his closest friends, and how he spoke to them as if they were his mother. Regulus turned back towards the door of the dorm and briskly walked down before he could hear any of Barty’s protests. As much as Regulus was confused, he could not be upset with his friends staging a boundary, after all, isn’t that all Regulus has ever wanted in his life? Regulus cannot find it within himself to dislike this action, he refused to submit to hypocrisy. Instead, Regulus only felt a brunt of pain hit his chest, a feeling of being left behind on whatever Barty and Evan had been so suspicious of. No matter, he thought to himself, as he stretched into an armchair of the common room. Five thirty five, reading the hand clock sitting on the ledge of the fireplace, he had an hour and a half to read the book he’d been clutching.

Sitting on this armchair was a deliberate choice of Regulus’, only he had been anticipating sitting here after dinner. He had cleared this space for socialising with his friends, no thanks to whatever shenanigans they were pulling. This armchair was positioned at a corner of the common room, giving him a view of the door of entry, and all the stairs leading up to individual dormitories, so Regulus could observe anyone who enters and exits. There are no blindspots, and the armchair is secluded enough to scare away Avery, Mulciber and whatever other fruitflies are drawn to follow him.

Cracking open the book, he looked at the photos of the inferi in the pages. His eyes saw the writing underneath but he never paid any close attention, only scattered lucky glances over the longest words.

———

It was a dull one and a half hours, but nonetheless a productive one. Regulus knew more than he needed to know about breeds of ineferi, and how they collated in lakes together and jumped towards any fresh flesh they could see.

“I thought that you’d be in the dorms with Barty and Evan.” He looked up to see Dorcas towering over his armchair, his green eyes narrowed in surprise.
“We have been having our differences as of late.” He snapped the book shut.
“But tell me, why are you intrigued?” His voice had become bitter as he knew that this was Dorcas’ half-assed attempt to rectify the problem. He watched as she slowly took a step back and paused momentarily, meeting his stare with her large deep eyes, shades of a rich earthly brown trapped by the cage formed by her long thin lashes.

“Admit it, Reg. You’re jealous.” To these harsh blows Regulus was speechless.
“Barty and Evan are hiding something from you, and you’re afraid that means you’ll be left out.” She pauses, laughs. His eyes narrow from the sound of mockery escaping her mouth.
“God how I wish I could tell you, it’s so obvious Reg, I’m surprised how you of all people don’t see it.” Regulus’ mouth opens to make a remark but he doesn’t. Simply scowls and huffs. Regulus isn’t used to the idea that other people know his emotions better, even if it has always been true.

He hates how the only way he can express himself is by his actions, and not his words.

He will never be like his brother, a sharp defiant tongue breaking him free of his family. He’ll never be able to tell him how he truly sees the mockery of his family. Instead, he commits small acts of defiance that only he’ll know.

———

Dinner was an exhaustingly overstimulating affair, and Regulus was right about ready to go to bed. Grabbing a silk robe, he pulled it over his skinny body, shedding a glance at a large scar over his chest.
“Reg.” It was Evan, sitting on his bed. Regulus turned around, he hadn’t noticed he wasn’t the only one in the dorm. Noticing Regulus’ flickering eyes, he said
“Barty’s still at dinner.” He took Regulus’s silence as an opportunity to talk. He drifted towards the window and took out a cigarette.

“Barty and I… we’re hooking up.”

And this, ladies and gentleman, was exactly the opposite that Regulus had been anticipating. He’d practiced every possible scenario in his twisted head, where they might want space, where they didn’t want to be friends, but nothing had prepared him for this. Regulus remembered his small crush on Barty in fifth year, but this wasn’t the time to think about it. He swore he’d never tell a soul.

“When?” Regulus asked, surprised at the composure of his voice.

“Over the summer. Listen… we planned to tell you earlier, Barty even sent a letter to you but we never heard back.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. Stupid mother.

“My mother intercepted the letter asking to meet with me. Next time make sure you send it, she despises Barty.” Evan chuckles, and Regulus’ lips twitch almost into a smile-like shape.

Evan walks over to sit near Regulus but not touch him, which Regulus is grateful for. Evan has always been the one of his friends who respects his boundaries the most. They have a special bond, a silent understanding of what it is like to be the heirs to prestigious pure blooded families.

He can’t help but think back to the time he met Evan. It was the first year, and the boy he made friends with on the train was paired up with Evan for potions. On the day, Regulus was writhing with jealousy, but he won’t admit that. But despite young Regulus’ scowl and wrinkled face, Barty dragged Evan to him and slowly he took a good liking to Evan. From that day onwards, they became inseparable, a good trio.

“I’m happy for you.” Regulus said quietly, praying Evan wouldn’t hear it. Evan did hear it, a small light shining across his face making him smile, but didn’t say anything, probably because of how quietly Regulus had said it.

Regulus was safe. They weren’t going to leave his side. Not yet. Something bad is bound to happen to Regulus Arcturus Black.

Chapter Text

Everyday that goes by, Regulus is haunted by a figure which has no name. This figure comes out only at night, when he lays to sleep, and reminds him of every fault he has committed. As he tosses and turns to free himself of this man, the ghoul places his grip on Regulus’ neck, then claws dig through a fair complexion to reveal the dirty, impure crimson seeping through his body. A well-renowned healer which Regulus had seen over the summer urged the boy to see a muggle psychiatrist, as the ghost Regulus described was apparently all of Regulus’ expectations personified into man, a textbook sign of severe stress manifesting into his sleep.

And to this, Regulus can only retort. When mother was informed of this healer’s discoveries, she whipped him far away from this healer, and threw a fit because how dare this man accuse her only son of being a lunatic. But rest assured, Walburga did place Regulus under the cruciatus curse for more than usual, which taught him that if he were ever to see a shrink, it would be without his mother.

Tonight, this ghost seemed to take the form of Death himself, covered with a dark cloak with only small finger bones poking through the sleeve holes. It came and stood before Regulus, who lay on his side, and it began to tie a noose around Regulus’ cervix. Suddenly, the noose tightened and it triggered Regulus to think back to the memories of his summer.

Regulus saw himself in third person, enduring a duel with his father, then losing and collapsing on a table, shattering a vase by force. He wasn’t allowed to eat for a week after that. Walburga had informed him that the vase contained some of the ashes of his Uncle Alphard. This made him think back to the memories of his father’s brother. Unlike the rest of the Blacks, Alphard had always been a sweet soul, and may have been the only relative favoured Sirius over Regulus.

Still, he was a good uncle, who happily took both kids over to his summerhouse in Italy every summer, until Sirius ran away. His uncle was surprisingly proud that his nephew had gotten away, but he concealed this very well in front of Walburga and Orion, Regulus only realised this at the small flickers of emotion through his mannerisms. Another thing is that Uncle Alphard never married anyone, which Regulus thought was because he simply hadn’t been interested.

Regulus found out at his funeral last year that he was homosexual, from the drunken babbling of his father, and that’s why Walburga and Orion were so distant with him unlike their close relationship with Cygnus and Druella. Secretly, Regulus took pride in that his uncle didn’t conform, that he wasn’t the only Black who felt same sex attraction. For a moment, Regulus didn’t feel guilty of who he liked and how he didn’t obey the expectations society outset for him.

But as the moment passed, the guilt coiled into the noose, tightening it further. The ghost still stood as a form of a reaper, but now it was swinging an axe back and forth. Judging by the panic-stricken expression on his face, it whipped off the noose and vanished into the atmosphere, to haunt another unlucky soul.

This was the average night for Regulus, it’s just unfortunate that tonight was also the night before his proper start to sixth year at hogwarts.

———

“ANOTHER TURNING POINT-”

A loud racket started playing out of a radio followed by heinous singing, jolting Regulus awake. His eyes turned to whatever machine made this ungodly racket, sitting on Barty’s nightstand, and then Barty mindlessly waltzing around singing along with the radio.

“What in Salzar’s name-” Regulus muttered to himself, soon to be interrupted by Barty belting the lyrics to some muggle punk song. His eyes then fixed on a peculiar expression Evan’s face, his eyes were wide with joy yet his facial muscles tensed, if Regulus didn’t know them he might think that Evan was secretly enjoying this. Scanning his appearance further, he realised Evan might just be romantically interested in Barty, and this was a great problem.

He knew that Evan may be in for a heartbreak, Barty had been notoriously known to have these awful ‘fuckbuddies’ that he’d take to bed and dump as soon as he saw the next. What strikes Regulus is that Barty chose one of his friends, specifically one he cares for, so his hypothesis is that there’s a chance Barty might like Evan romantically. But he knows that Evan would love Barty more than Barty likes Evan, which may in turn scare the bold boy away.

Part of Regulus’ selfish mind resents them for being together, as he knows it’s impossible to ever achieve whatever relationship the two of them have. It requires him to maintain any grasp of emotional connection, which is the price he has to pay for his goals. It is lonely, but that is the price he pays to be Regulus Arcturus Black.

No matter his petty feelings which he refuses to acknowledge, he is happy for Evan and Barty, for having something special. He just hopes it will last.

By the time Regulus’ thoughts fade, he finds himself dressed by his body automatically, and walking down to the slytherin common room for Dorcas. She’s sitting by the fireplace, near Regulus’ armchair, holding a copy of today’s daily prophet.

“What’s with the newspaper?” He asks, finding the seat of a nearby armchair, as he looks at her elegant uniform.
“Three muggles were attacked last night in London on their way out of Camden Market.” Replied Dorcas solemnly, closing the paper and leaving it by a table.
“Who does the ministry think it is?” Regulus asked this question, even knowing that this was the work of Voldemort’s minions.

“The ministry says they too are unaware of any perpetrators.” Her tone was skeptical, hinting that she too knew that this was clear cut bullshit. This doesn’t surprise Regulus, as the dark lord had half the ministry on a leash. Take Lucius Malfoy for example, his cousin’s fiancé, who worked in the ministry and a man who had personally shown off his mark to Regulus.

He remembers at Narcissa and Lucius’ engagement party during his Easter holidays, how Lucius had been awfully excited to get close to the heir of Black, how Lucius had been waffling on and on about the ties between the Malfoy and Black family and how they would become the favoured families of the Dark Lord. Regulus could see right through him, and how he was only building an alliance with Regulus to outdo Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange.

Still, Regulus shook his hand and agreed, it was important to build alliances with certain death eaters, to observe hierarchy dynamics.

Everyone is fighting for the approval of Voldemort, to have a legacy in history.

———

The first lesson Regulus had to attend was his favourite, potions. This was because Professor Slughorn had always favoured Regulus in the sixth year class, because he was well ahead of his classmates. He had always put in an effort to be on the good side of his head of house, and the potions master, as it came with a list of benefits. This list included taking out books from the restricted section without permission slips, having a classroom to himself to practice potions, and an advantage to apply as a prefect, which he took.

All of these benefits made Regulus procuring certain books and sneaking around after curfew a lot easier, so he could focus well on his research. The downside of being Slughorn’s favourite was that he created an enemy which he wasn’t aware of, Severus Snape. Despite both of them being favourites of Slughorn in different classes, Snape had made a fool of himself attempting to become Regulus’ friend. After Regulus kindly turned him down, Snape had taken it personally and started spreading rumors about Regulus in his second year.

This lead to relentless bullying from Avery, Mulciber and Snape, but this subsided in his fifth year when they learnt the importance of the Black name socially. Now Mulciber and Avery follow him like fruit flies begging for forgiveness while Snape pouts in his hypocrisy.

Coming back to the potions class, they had been instructed to make a Befuddlement draught. Barty and Evan were a pair, and so was Dorcas and Pandora, so Regulus had the project to himself, which was good as others would slow him down. He began to brew his cauldron, chopping and measuring his ingredients as he listened to Evan and Barty’s chatter.

“Honestly I don’t see why Barty needs to concoct this draught, it’s like he has Befuddlement draught running through his veins!” Joked Dorcas, as she added some sneezewort into her cauldron while Pandora cleaned up the remaining scurvy grass. Barty pretended to be hurt, pouting and taking a hand to his chest.
“Take that back!” He barked, then turning to Evan,
“What’s the drought gonna do?” He asked in a small voice, triggering Dorcas and Pandora to burst out laughing.
“It causes the drinker to be reckless.” And at this point, Evan too lost control in laughter.

Barty stood flushed with embarrassment, but soon joined his friend’s hysterics while Regulus rolled his eyes pretending not to take joy in his friends’ nonsense. But he did, very much so, but he’s not admitting that soon.

Chapter Text

James made his way back up from dinner, Sirius and Peter following behind him. Pete was holding a spare plate of roast beef and potatoes, and Sirius was clutching a bag of chocolate that they’d bought from when they snuck out to Hogsmeade. James smiled politely to people in the Gryffindor common room, and made eye contact with Marlene.

James had made a close knit friendship with Marlene over the past 3 years, strengthening as she was a wicked beater alongside Sirius for the Gryffindor team. Meanwhile, Sirius had started chattering up his girlfriend, who looked awfully flustered by his antics, and James couldn’t blame her because who could resist bloody Sirius Black.
“Pads! For Godric’s sake, we need to get Moony his food.” Called out James, and Sirius rolled his eyes and slowly parted with his girlfriend.

When Pete opened the door, James’ eyes caught sight of Moony lying on his bed, groaning from the pain of his body. James had an unexplainable amount of empathy for Remus, he knew that it must be incredibly hard to be both a werewolf and a Hogwarts student. To help with Remus’ pain, all the marauders swore to learn how to become animagi, which they managed in third year. James mastered it first, becoming a deer, hence his nickname prongs, then padfoot followed suit and became a black dog, and finally wormtail became a rat.

Then the boys created the map, a complex piece of manage that they mastered, but most of the credit went to Remus. The boys used this for multiple personal reasons, for Moony it was to sneak into the shrieking shack without running into anyone, for Pads it was for avoiding Filch when he snuck out to see Mary. To James, the map was perfect to spy on Lily Evans during fifth year while Pete used it to go out and check on his children (plants) in the greenhouse without any disturbances.

Without a second thought, James pushed the dinner plate onto Remus’ nightstand while Sirius sat at the foot of the bed, feeding Remus chocolate, which James knew would be difficult for Remus. Remus had had a massive crush on Sirius since fourth year, even during and after the prank. He had told James and Pete in fifth year all about it when Sirius was in the infirmary, over a hot glass of butterbeer and plenty of chocolate.

“Sirius… I can feed myself-” Protested Remus, but Sirius shushed him by shoving another piece of chocolate and grinning. Peter shot James a look, translating to ‘Is moony going to be okay’ and James shrugged. Despite his eternal love for his brother, he really wondered how Pads could be so oblivious to Remus blushing and groaning at the sight of him. The problem was, James didn’t think Sirius really swung that way, and was terrified that Sirius might have internalised homophobia from his family, specifically his mother Walbitch or whatever.

But then again, Sirius was fine with James coming out as pansexual last year, but James thought it would be different from a brother to a best friend. Pete switched off the lights and the marauders called it an early night, as Moony had to recover from the full moon. James snuggled into bed while Sirius cuddled in with him, a tradition for both of them to sleep together for the first week.

“How’s things going with Mary?” Whispered James under the covers. Sirius bit his lip and looked away a little.
“Pads?” And at this, Sirius’ silvery grey eyes made contact with James’, with a worried and nervous expression.
“I don’t think we’re going to last…” he whispered, as James adjusted himself to put an arm around Sirius.

“Mary is great, she’s beautiful and she’s kind but...” he sniffed, his eyes now watering a little.
“I don’t think I actually like her… I don’t think I even like…” James cradled Sirius between his hands, pulling him closer and Sirius lost himself sobbing in his shoulders.
“You don’t think you like what?” James asked, cocking his head to a side, supportive but confused.
“Girls.” James held him even closer and Sirius sobbed muffled words into his shoulder, how Sirius cried and cried.

“What’s wrong with me?” He asked James, his eyes were now all puffy while the silver orb sat behind the thick black lashes. James couldn’t blame Remus for liking him.
“Nothing.” James whispered reassuringly, while he tangled his hands through Sirius’ hair. After a while, Sirius fell asleep in James’ arms as he too fell into the hands of siesta.

——

“You’re breaking up with me?” Mary was furious, understandably, as Sirius had just tried to break up with her in the Gryffindor common room, attracting the attention of anyone making their way to breakfast.
“Listen Mary, I just want the best for us.” Sirius reasoned, while James, Pete and Remus sat on one side watching whilst Marlene, Lily and Dorcas sat on the other side. Both of them were standing at the fireplace, and the friendship group had split boys and girls, all sitting on a sofa watching the drama unfold.

James thinks it was extremely immature of Sirius to pronounce their breakup in front of all their friends, but James can’t be upset at him as he knows that Sirius’ lack of emotional awareness comes from the torture at the hands of Walbitch. James doesn’t think Mary knows this, as they’ve only been going out since the summer, and Sirius isn’t particularly open about this kind of thing.

“God, men are unbelievable!” Mary exclaimed as she stormed off, Lily following her to the stairway to dorms.
“I’ll bring them breakfast.” Mumbled Marlene to Dorcas, as they both got up and made their way to breakfast, Dorcas wrapping her arm around Marlene. James stared at the two girls, very interlinked, wondering if this was purely platonic or if this was a romantic affair. James had always known that Marlene was a raging lesbian, she had told him at the start of the friendship thinking he was interested in her, when in reality he was just impressed by her Quidditch ability and begged the Quidditch captain to let her have a spot. This is how she became the wicked beater she is renowned for today. He thinks that she might even go pro after the wizarding war. But what was new was how Dorcas had joined the Gryffindor girls, occasionally with Pandora, and how she seemed wrapped around Marlene and the other girls.

If they were together, James was happy for them. He would do anything to have someone love him back a fraction of how much he loved them. Even his own mother told him at a young age:
“James, you have to be careful who you give your love to, you love very much, more than the other children do, and this makes you sweeter, but more susceptible to heartbreak.” This and a lot of lectures from his father about the importance of being a gentleman. He was lucky that his parents took him coming out so well. He remembers how his mother was originally confused but even happier when she heard that James has a higher probability of bringing someone home. His father needed a few days but came round to it, after all he was simply happy that his son was happy.

—---

Sirius had been coping with the breakup surprisingly well. He didn’t immediately spring back for rebound sex nor gallivant at the next girl gawking about how dashing he looks. Instead, he spent most of the time with the marauders, and eventually Mary forgave him, and he made up with the girls. Remus too was recovering from his full moon quickly, with the help of all the chocolate and cuddles Sirius was showering him. But James knew Sirius meant this platonically, and this would simply confuse Remus further.

Today, James and Sirius were walking out after a long hour of Transfiguration with Minnie last thing on a friday. Everyone was bored out of their minds and exhausted, the only thing that they were looking forward to was the party on Saturday. The marauders were throwing it, and they invited all the seventh year Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs. Dorcas had also been invited by Marlene as a plus one, and she asked James if it was okay if she brought her own small circle of friends. James of course agreed, after all Dorcas was practically dating (probably) the beater for his team, and James considered her a gryffindor in his eyes. Unlike the rest of the Slytherins, she wasn’t bigoted and didn’t seem to have any problems with muggleborns, so her friends must be similar to her, James thought to himself.

When Sirius swung open the door of the dorms dramatically, Pete and Remus were stacking various bottles of liquors and butterbeer.
“Pete, you did stack the muggle Irish Whiskey?” Yelled out Sirius, flinging himself on James’ bed. Pete sticks his head up from the bottles and nods.
“I need it, Lily told me it was liquid luck to flirt with the ladies.” Pete and Remus exchange laughs, while James bites his tongue shooting Sirius a look. James knows that Sirius is pretending, he saw the raw emotion on Sirius’ face and he cannot fathom that Sirius didn’t mean what he said. James supposes now all he can do is wait it out until Sirius’ next sexuality crisis.

Chapter Text

It was the first weekend of sixth year, and Regulus had intended to spend the day pent up in the library over research, but that came to a screaming halt when a certain doe-eyed friend came to his dorm to ask for a favour. Dorcas was sitting on the spare bed, catching the eyes of Regulus, Pandora at the doorway, Barty and Evan.
“I’m not sure how I can explain this but… there’s this girl I’m interested in.” This caught the attention of Barty whose head shot up from Evan’s shoulders. She ignored this and continued.
“I don’t know if she likes me.” She spoke nervously, her tone jittering.
“I’ll decapitate her if she breaks your heart.” Replied Regulus grimly, with Barty laughing and Evan observing. He wasn’t joking. Pandora smiled sweetly with a nod.

“No no- whatever, it’s not about that. She invited me to this Gryffindor party and I asked Potter if I could bring some of my friends. He agreed and now we’re going to a party in the Forbidden Forest.” Barty let out a cry of laughter while Evan looked mortified, and Regulus sighed and pinched his nose in disgust.
“Well I’m not sure about these two prudes but I personally would die to go to a party!” Exclaimed Barty in a maniacal tone, as he jumped straight for the wardrobe and started pulling out every item he owned.

“Dresscode is that you need to dress as a mythical creatures or characters.” Announced Dorcas.
“But I don’t own any costumes for the gryffindor’s silly party.” Protested Regulus, now vividly scrunching his nose in disgust.
“Good thing we can use spells to help us.” Replied Pandora, who Regulus had forgotten was standing at the doorway. Dorcas looked at her with a smile.
“Dorcas and I have decided we’re going as whimsy muggle witches.” Pandora declared softly.

“I'm going as a gargoyle!” Yelped Barty, getting out his wand and chanting complex utterances. Evan and Regulus exchanged glances.
“Please guys, I want you to meet Marlene and her friends! I promise you’ll get along.” The tone of Dorcas’ voice was the only reason why Regulus agreed to this. Regulus got up and took out his wand. He thought to himself of any mythical characters or creatures he had read of, his mind stumbled across the song of Achilles. It was a tragic novel, Regulus didn’t exactly spill any emotion over it but he felt Achilles’ pain.

He decided he was to dress as Patroclus.

———

In about an hour, Regulus stood in a simple tunic, with an olive branch on his head, a leather chord bracelet on his wrist, and a necklace with a bronze shell charm. Pandora came over to him in the Slytherin common room dressed in a cream crochet top and a patchwork maxi skirt, as well as a crocheted multicolour witches hat, paired with quirky beaded jewellery.
“I like your Patroclus costume.” She beamed, and he knew why she was especially happy, as she was the one who recommended to him the Song of Achilles. An unique thing about Pandora was that she loved muggle literature, especially Greek mythology, as that’s where her name came from.
“I’ll be right back, I need to fetch something.” She said as she disappeared out of the Slytherin common room.

Soon after Pandora left, Dorcas walked in wearing a dashing black dress embedded with small red gems and silver chain, with silver jewellery and a black witch’s hat. She and Pandora had truly dressed as a whimsy and muggle witch duo, which Regulus found oddly poetic as a reflection of their dynamic. Dorcas had always been one to silently defy her family, to dress up as the daughter of a renowned pure blooded family, while Pandora loudly defied this expectation for girls, she dressed as kitschy and whimsy as she wanted.
“You look pretty, Reg.” commented Dorcas, smiling at her success in getting Regulus to dress up.
“As do you.” Said Regulus in a less enthusiastic tone but still overall positive.

Soon, Barty and Evan sauntered down. Evan was wearing an elf costume, given his shabby clothes and elf ears, while Barty wore a ragged suit, with red stains over the shirt, holding a trident and wearing red devil horns.
“Who are we waiting on?” Asked Evan, nervous we’d miss the party.
“Pandora said she’d gone to grab something.” Replied Regulus, slouching on an armchair lazily.

Pandora soon arrived back holding a miniature golden lyre, and handed it to Regulus.
“Be careful, it’s my special lyre. But I trust you not to break it.” Pandora said softly, her butterfly braids flowing down to her waist. Regulus thanked her and his lips twitched into an almost smile, as they set foot to the forbidden forest. Regulus guided them through passages that the prefects didn’t patrol, luckily he didn’t have duty tonight, and they arrived at a grand clearing far from the main building.

Dorcas and Pandora were greeted by Mckinnon, McDonald and Evans and ushered away. Regulus then watched as Barty started downing shots of Irish whiskey as if they were water, with Evan standing supportively at his side. Regulus decided he did not want to watch his best friends’ drunk makeout, so instead walked in the other direction, towards a crowd of hufflepuffs. A few of them whispered as he passed through them, but Regulus rolled his eyes. Some dimwit seventh years didn’t scare him.

A bunch of half naked girls passed him, giggling and making eyes. Regulus ignored their antics and headed towards a quiet edge of the clearing, holding his drink and clutching a pack of cigarettes he fished from a pocket in Evan’s elf costume. Regulus exhaled a string of smoke as his eyes quickly caught attention of a whiny sound.
“Prongsss why have you dragged me away from-” whined his traitor brother, hooking his fingers around Potter’s armour. He noticed that Sirius was decked out in armour and had dressed as a night, while Potter’s armour was of a greek style, with a large helmet covering most of his head. He was dressed as Achilles.

Regulus felt as if he was to throw up.

But his eyes were strained onto the boy’s brown muscle peeking under his armplates, as well as his thick brown hair and those hazel honey eyes. His eyes continued to stare, picking apart every piece of Potter’s skin showing under his costume. A cheeky grin slid from Potter to Sirius, which made Regulus’s chin slack from desire, as he watched Potter converse with his unworthy brother.

Regulus realised that he might have feelings for Potter, and it felt weird as this was the boy Sirius had replaced him for.

Could anyone blame him? He was wearing some slutty golden plates extenuating his muscles for Salzar’s sake.

——

Regulus soon retreated back to the dorm, after spending an hour staring at his replacement. It was late at night, and Regulus had drunk more Irish whisky than Walburga would approve of. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from Barty’s drawer and walked towards the window. He looked out towards the moonlit quidditch fields, absolutely deserted with not a particular player flying. He looked up to find Sirius in the night sky. Sirius, the brightest star in the sky while Regulus closely trailed behind without a shred of notice. He felt that quiet, timid Regulus would be nothing without loud, brave Sirius.

“What has he got that I don’t?” He cried aloud to the star looking down at him. He saw how his brother and James had gotten along, jealousy coupled deep within him.
“I’m smarter than him, I’m on the Quidditch team too for Salzar’s sake, I’m the best seeker in Hogwarts.” He muttered, failing to compose himself.

Why brother, would you choose him over me?”

The cut that Sirius made that fateful night will always be deeper than anything Walburga was capable of. Regulus will resent his brother from failing to protect him, as was once promised.

“Reggie, today I shall make you a promise!” He had exclaimed, as they were at a muggle park that Sirius had snuck them to.
“What is it, Sirus?” Asked four year old Regulus, mispronouncing Sirius’ name.
“I, your big brave older brother, will always protect you from our mother and father.” Shouted an overly enthusiastic five year old.
“Will you leave?” Asked Regulus. Sirius shook his head.

The night that Sirius ran, Regulus cast his mind back to this promise and how even his own brother had failed him. Regulus endured the wrath of his parents by himself. Regulus Arcturus Black was simply destined to be alone, to be the sole heir to the house of Black. Sirius made his decision and Regulus must learn how to survive on his own. The mourning of his alive and well brother is something that he will carry with him forever, a burden he cannot delegate.

No matter how much platonic love he receives, it will never compare the brotherly love he received.

Chapter Text

“Why don’t presidents fight wars?” Asked Barty as they sat at the great hall for breakfast. It was the Sunday after the shenanigans of the marauders party. Regulus cast his eyes towards the Gryffindor table to see all of them slumped and hungover, barely touching their food. Suddenly Potter made eye contact with him, a weird grin across his face. Regulus looked away quickly, making the disgusted scowl on his face more prominent.

“Because we live in a far-right capitalist society.” Replied Evan, taking a bite into his hashbrown.
“You know how corrupt the Wizengamot are. I bet Voldemort has half of his death eaters infiltrating it as we speak.” Dorcas’ voice had quietened, it was obvious to at least Regulus that she too was scared of her family’s pressure. She may be pureblood but her family was not part of the Sacred 28, as the surname Meadowes was common amongst muggles hinting at muggle ancestry, so he knew that her family had been pressuring her to create good ties with death eaters, and to marry one.

—---

Interlude: Dorcas POV

Another breakfast with the slytherin skittles, and it calmed her anxiety a little, but being surrounded by future death eaters didn’t. Her eyes picked apart the slytherins around her who weren’t part of the skittles. Firstly there was Avery, who used to pick on Regulus but then started following him like a piece of meat, then secondly Mulciber who was far too ugly for Dorcas’ liking. Then there was Dolohov, a year older than her, he seemed too muscular and brute-like for her liking, he had muscles but they really didn’t look too good on him, but Marlene… Oh Marlene. Sweet innocent Marlene. Whatever they had going on— which Dorcas didn’t want to use the term relationship in case it would freak out Marlene but definitely counted according to Pandora —was bound to end the day Dorcas was to be arranged off to a death eater of her father’s choosing.

Marlene had no idea that whatever they had would be put to a screeching halt when Dorcas would get word of her suitor. But in the meantime Dorcas is free to play around, make out after Marlene’s Quidditch practices in the broomshed, play with her hair in the Gryffindor common rooms all while the guilt chips away at her conscience. It was silly, but a small part of Dorcas hoped that they would never end, to hope that they would move far away to a cottage off the east coast of England. It would have these pretty tiles on the roof, and inside would be cosy and covered in those crochet blankets Pandora would give them on their unofficial wedding. Dorcas’ eyes shot up at her father’s owl flying overhead, dropping a piece of mail on her lap. She smiled at it as the kind creature who was owned by a man who did not deserve that pureness. Other owls soon joined her owl, swarming around the tables dropping off various packages and letters with no apparent aim.

A package flew into Regulus’ empty plate. It was wrapped in a black and silver wrapping with the Black family crest. Regulus’ hands reached for the letter as he opened the letter. She watched as his face grew paler and a glint of fear sparked in his eyes.
“I’ll be back.” His voice quivered ever so slightly, very out of character for the Regulus that she knew. The Regulus she knew was eloquent, whole and never threw his feelings out, meaning that the letter had contained something disturbing. He folded up the letter and walked out of Dorcas’ sight. Evan let out a loud sigh while Barty played with his food, rolling around a piece of bitten toast.
“Should I go after him?” Dorcas asked, looking towards a boy with a tired expression and another boy who was mentally a toddler, now seeing how much orange juice he could chug without spilling it all over himself. Even though Barty seemed to act like a little boy, Dorcas had to give it to him that the man was not stupid. In fact, Dorcas reckoned that he was a genius considering his incredible attention to detail and ability to recall the most randomest things, not to mention his impeccable marks on the NEWTs. Before she could hear Evan protest, she got up to follow him.

Dorcas walked down the stairs into the dungeons with the Slytherin common room, far away from all the other common rooms. She said the password to the portrait of the pretentious man, who asked for the surname and hiss every time he heard a name that was not part of Sacred 28. He absolutely despised the half-blooded students or pure-blooded students without a surname to match their blood status.
“What’s your name, young girl?” He asked, turning his head sideways to inspect Dorcas as if he didn’t see her entering and exiting the dorm everyday.
“Fawley.” She lied, as he grinned and opened the portrait door welcoming her. She walked through and paced through the common room to Regulus’ dorm. She knocked, waiting for an answer.
“Who is it?” Asked a cold sneery voice from the other side.
“Dorcas.” She answered, barging open before he could protest. In front of her stood a boy in his evening robes, pink rimming his eyes and a certain flush to his cheeks. His pretty green eyes looked up at her, scanning her with a glaze of judgement that even Dorcas could feel.
“What did Walburga say?” She asked, sitting on the foot of Barty’s bed as Regulus sat at the other side of the bed.

“Father’s health has worsened, the family healer doesn’t think he’ll live to see November. Mother has insisted that I am pulled out to come spend time with him so he can show me the family legacy before it passes.” Every word that came out looked as if it stung him. Dorcas was cautious with her response, but words left her before she could choose.
“I am so sorry Regulus, but I don’t understand… Last year you told me his death was inevitable and you wouldn’t mourn- but I understand it is different how that you are living through this period-”

“It’s not about the death of my father, Dorcas. My plan to be Lord Black starts here, with the legacy. No more freedom, no more emotion. Pure wrath and power-lusting.”

—---

Regulus’ POV:

After escorting Dorcas out of his room, he stood by on the window ledge. He looked out under the Black lake. After clarification with Evan, Regulus had been hallucinating that the dorm overlooked the Quidditch fields, this was impossible and silly of him looking back. Regulus always knew to himself that he had an unique ability to derealise without knowing and others had to snap him back to reality. He of course never told anyone this as he could not be classed as mad or ill in the head, it is simply not something the heir of Black would ever be. If mother and father knew, he would be straight to the cellar for a month until he went so far that he’d be ‘right as rain’ while if Dorcas or his other friends knew they’d whip him out to the best healer that the Rosiers would foot the bill of. Regulus will keep this strange hallucination to himself, and ignore how he thought that Barty or Evan would occasionally open the window to take a cigar.

Regulus went and fished a handful of cigarette packs from his own nightstand. Over the second week his friends had gone to Hogsmeade and bought him a pack. Deciding it was not enough, he grabbed another handful of packs and lit them as he lay on his bed. The scent of nicotine calmed him, he shut his eyes and inhaled the ghost looming over his face. It smiled tenderly and Regulus tried to smile back. Smoke lingered, soon clouding the ceiling as Regulus ripped open another pack. He lit the stub and puffed it again, and again, until the light of the chandelier finally shone on his face. His hand itched for another cigarette but he could only find an empty pack, he’d just spent two hours chainsmoking. He had missed lessons, but he had been given permission anyway by Slughorn who had authorised this as time to pack his trunk.

It was only the second week of Hogwarts and he already had to leave and go back to Grimmauld place. He had until the end of today to pack as Walburga would escort him outside of the grounds by herself. When he returns, he will be Lord Black. He turned to the radio and pulled a Radiohead CD from Barty’s pile of clothes and CDs. He carefully took the disc out of its case and slotted it into the built-in CD player. He adjusted the dials and it started to play let down.

He sat on the end of his bed for a moment, just hearing ‘one day, I will grow wings’ as a surge of lachrymose drowned him, he felt as if he could not breathe as splints of water streamed down his face. He clutched onto the pillow and sobbed again, he wasn’t ready for the wrath of Walburga Black just yet.

“One more day…” he begged to an imaginary voice above him, most likely taunting him for the cruel actions he carried out in his past life.

Chapter Text

Regulus, Evan and Barty were relaxing on the Friday evening before Halloween on Sunday, Regulus was smoking a cigarette from Hogsmeade while the other two boys were tangled in their bedsheets. He had walked in on the other two having sex and had unfortunately committed the mental image of the two boys in his head.

Desperate to find something to free his mind, he turned to his nightstand with a paperback copy of Metamorphosis and other short stories by Franz Kafka which he had borrowed from Dorcas. He started to read the part from where had been until a sharp knocking came the door. The door slammed open with a nervous Pandora followed by a stern Dorcas.

“Regulus. We need to speak to you.” Demanded Dorcas, and at this, he knew it was serious. She never spoke so hastily, she even sounded like Walburga. Regulus threw the cigarette at the ashtray on his table and closed the book shut. He hurried outside to them fastening the sashes of his robes.
“What is it?” Asked Regulus, tilting his head scanning them both. Dorcas was wearing her outing robes over her nightdress and Pandora wore a whimsy woolen sweater over a mini plaid skirt and dark translucent tights, which looked beautiful over her dark legs. It was clear she had come from the Ravenclaw victory party against their match with Hufflepuff.

“I’ll cut out the bullshit.” Which was one of Regulus’ favourite sayings of Dorcas’ vocabulary.
“Pandora here had a vision.” This was nothing out of the ordinary, she had visions all the time.

Finally, Pandora spoke up.
“Regulus, I saw you standing over a number of unidentifiable corpses. Your left arm was out with the dark mark, your right hand bore your wand. You then stood over them, I couldn’t make out your expressions as the perception was overhead.” At this point, Regulus watched as his friend rambled nervously, clearing trying to find a way to communicate as quickly as possible.

A minute of silence passed between them.

“Then, you cast an incantation turning all the corpses, turning them to ash.” Muttered Dorcas.

Another pause. No words, only glances.

“How many?” Regulus asked, shattering the silence with his sharp tongue.
“I didn’t count but about ten, give or take.” She whispered, then looked away, not holding Regulus’ cold glance.
“We think they’re muggles you killed, for Voldemort and you tried to dispose of the evidence.” Dorcas’ tone flared with anger, which Regulus supposes she was oddly attached to muggles.
“What is it to me?” Regulus drawled. He was confused as to why they seemed angry.

“Regulus we are here to make an unbreakable vow-”
“I will not be swearing shit.” The cruelty of his tone shocked even him. He stared deadpan at Pandora, then Dorcas.
“No, as your best friend, I will vow to stop you from hurting anyone unless crucial.”

———

After what felt as if a painstakingly long hour, Regulus was standing by the windowsill dressed in his uniform waiting for thirty minutes to start his patrol. He had just spent time with Dorcas swearing to stop him from inflicting pain or whatever in an empty classroom. Just as Dorcas turned to leave, Pandora cupped a hand around his ear.

“When you are not fed love on a silver spoon you learn to lick off knives.” Her voice was eerily quiet, as she blew a kiss and disappeared off to the Ravenclaw tower.

Regulus stood back, he had heard this quote by Lauren Eden but it stuck with him for a while. He stood watching the green light of the Black Lake as small little fishes bobbed around outside the bolted window. He wondered if the little fish would understand how deep this quote had hit him. Between the pressure of taking the dark mark, the beating he endured when he returned home last month from mother, or the ill health of father, this quote was the least of what Regulus had needed.

A month ago Regulus had to suddenly leave Hogwarts for his father, and when he was back at Grimmauld place before leaving. From then on, Walburga had permission from Dumbledore himself to pull her son out whenever she felt he was on a declining path. This nonstop anxiety of being pulled away from Hogwarts at any time terrified him. In terms of what his father said to him, he had told Regulus that he was to receive a scroll after he died explaining how to access the Black Grimoire and how he could use it to ascend the ranks.

His father’s healer also stopped by as well to speak to Regulus and how this nutty healer promised to save his father for as long as was possible, which was stupid really because if Regulus was the healer, he thought he would end it quickly and painlessly. An uneasy scale tipped every time Regulus remembered that his father would die soon, as this meant he would become Lord Black, have to pull out of school and Walburga would make him bear the tattoo.

Still, according to the whack healer his father had 6-8 months to live, but that’ll come quicker than he can anticipate.

———

He stood out outside the dungeons, waiting for the Gryffindor prefect to show up. It was Lupin, the man who had been making an ass of himself unknowingly by befriend Potter, pushover-Pettigrew and obviously his traitor brother. It was a wonder how the boy even got the prefect role considering the number of expulsion-worthy pranks they pulled in their fifth year. Soon enough a tall rugged boy appeared from the stairs wearing ratty tarnished clothes, which Regulus wrinkled his nose to in fashion distaste. He thought that Remus looked so dishevelled he might mistake him for homeless. He assumed the reason the Gryffindor prefect dressed like this was due to his lack of money. He had heard tales of Lyall Lupin from the pure-blood family occasions, the man had apparently eloped with some muggle woman and had his son, then lost his marbles and returned back to the Wizarding World in Azkaban after manic-killing his own wife and nearly his nine-year old son.

Apparently it was all over the papers when Regulus was eight and Sirius was nine, an infamous scandal. He remembered hearing of how the boy had been sent to a muggle orphanage while the father had killed himself in prison.

Regulus had to give it to him that the man seemed fairly composed after all that, especially compared to his dimwit friends. He knew that the boy had worked hard in Hogwarts, often hearing professors chat about the boy’s incredible academics, especially given the circumstances. They started to pace through the non-forbidden parts of the dungeons which reminded him of the Catacombs that his parents had taken him to in Paris. They were where apparently all the mad wizards and witches sent off to which they had no hope for recovery, at least the non murderous ones unlike Lupin’s father. It was rather disturbing the more that Regulus thought about it. He wondered what criteria they’d have to fit to be sent there, as they walked up the stairs past the painting of St Barts, a pureblood supremacist of the Gaunt family with lineage to Salzar himself.

Soon they reached the Quidditch fields, the final part of their prefect duties. Lupin took out a cigarette and lit it with his wand, and took a deep inhale, then another exhale. Guessing from Regulus’ eyes lingering on the snout, he took out a packet from his pockets and offered it to him. He took it, lighting it with his own wand and copied the notion of Lupin as they walked the cold Quidditch fields. They walked around to the Quidditch shed without uttering a word, just the occasional exhale of smoke, as they got to the shed. He began to hear moaning noises from inside the shed, and Lupin swung open the door. Regulus’ eyes laid upon a blonde girl bent over with a naked Sirius behind her.

“Ten points from Hufflepuff and 15 points from Gryffindor.” Drawled Regulus, glaring at the obscenity he has found his brother in. Before his traitor brother could protest, he slammed the door in his face and walked off leaving Lupin to deal with that trainwreck. This unexpected sighting of Sirius annoyed him, why did his brother have to go hook up with some hufflepuff the night that he was on patrol? He hated Sirius and his silly antics. Why could he not for once stay in line with curfew so he didn’t need to partake in this painful interaction. It reminded him how free Sirius was, how he was such an aimless idiot with no responsibilities in his life, how he had wasted it all for a senseless freedom. He took pride in how the Black brothers contrasted, how he will be nothing like his incompetent older brother.

As he trudged back down to the dormitory, all he could think of was the words Pandora had said to him, the girl had unintentionally pushed Regulus into a state of deep unwanted self reflections and for him to take a trip down to his core values, which is the opposite of what he wanted right now. The heir of Black has only six to eight months before he must step up to bring more grace to his noble family name.

Chapter Text

Halloween was unsurprisingly one of Regulus’ most favourite times of year. Walburga never let him celebrate it in their firmly catholic household which gave it a defying edge to it, quiet enough that he will somewhat enjoy its celebration. However what he hated was that most people in Hogwarts didn’t actually wear costumes, and this disappointed him even if he would never admit it. Most girls would dress up with their cleavage out in tight corsets and miniskirts while guys just wore casual clothes.

Tonight Barty had dressed up as spiderman and Evan matched with him as Batman, he was not particularly listening to them talking about some muggle comic characters. Dorcas had reused her dress as a witch which he judged and did not hide it, while Pandora went as a whimsy fairy, with an enchanted printed dress flowing to her ankles which was to his liking and lilac wings made from complex spells with fairly lights taped to them.

As for Regulus himself, he had dressed as a goth. He wore a long leather overcoat, a sharp black undershirt and dark slacks held by a chunky silver belt. Over his undershirt, he wore a dark grey vest for his cinched waist, the waistcoat playing the role of a corset. He slid rings on both of his index and middle fingers, along with two layered chains that he had borrowed from Barty.

As for makeup, Regulus sat on a chair applying his concealer under his eyes. He decided he didn’t need foundation as he already looked pale naturally. He then applied a charcoal-coloured eyeshadow over his eyelids, blending it with a small makeup brush he borrowed from Dorcas along with the eyeshadow palette. Then he applied his kohl on his waterline and dragged it out to form a sharp wing. He then took a greyish colour from the eyeshadow palette and used it as a sharp contour, applying it on his cheekbones.

Finally he took a black lipstick which Dorcas had used for her witch costume, and applied it gently. Soon Pandora came from her dormitory and the five of them walked over to an abandoned classroom, which Regulus had to admit was beautifully decorated with intricately decorated candles, floating pumpkins and fluttering bats. He felt as if he were at a muggle party. Barty soon disappeared off to the self-stirring cauldron of bottomless butterbeer, while Pandora ran off to speak to McDonald who had dressed as a black cat, which was quite basic in his opinion.

He watched Evan listen to Nearly Headless Nick who had been telling a crowd of people some horror stories, but then his eyes caught on to Evans casting illusion charms of blood spattered all over the walls, while Lupin followed her casting the Muffiliato charm in order to avoid Filch. Regulus decided to stand on the edge of this crowd of sixth and seventh years, his eyes judging the costumes with a scowl engraved on his face. He grabbed a pumpkin pastry, as Dorcas followed him.

“How do you find the party, Reg?”
“Not as nauseating as I thought.” At this, she chuckled, but he did mean it seriously. This might be the first party that he had been dragged to that he might enjoy. McKinnon soon came into sight as she stuffed her face with treats from the candy cauldron. Dorcas soon joined her and he watched the two of them laugh and interlink hands which confirmed for him that they were definitely in a relationship.

Regulus began to get lost in thought, he wondered how different his life would be if he wasn’t born as himself. He might even begin to enjoy parties, have a healthy relationship with his brother and even fall in love, which seems like the bare minimum to vast majority of those at Hogwarts. He wondered if any of the people here were thinking about the same thing he was; the war. In the Wizarding World, the subject of the Dark Lord alone was very hushed and often dismissed as a rumor, people refusing to believe that blood supremacy could be this extreme.

He thought people that think like this are idiots, cowards who couldn’t face reality, the harsh truth that muggles, muggleborns, and even halfbloods are in danger. Instead, anyone who speaks out about this injustice is silenced-

Suddenly Regulus felt a large thud against his back, jerking him forward and prompting him to lose balance. But before he could fall forward, hands grabbed onto either side of his hip, putting him in an awkward position. Regulus froze, then shoved off the other person’s hands and whipped around. His eyes caught sight of an embarrassed, blushing Potter.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to-” before he could finish, Regulus had walked away. Potter quickly started to follow him so he made his way out of the classroom. It was a shame, he was actually enjoying the party. Potter continued running after him which surprised him, and he stopped and turned to him.
“Do you have to be such a dickhead to ignore my apology?” panted Potter, now catching up to him seventh floor corridors.
“Isn’t Sirius going to be mad that you’re speaking to his brother, Potter?” The boy grabbed onto his arm but Regulus continued.

“With your hand on my arm,” he drawled in a mocking manner, stepping closer to the other boy’s body
“Sirius might just get the wrong idea.” Regulus whispered, pressed up against Potter’s ear. Potter backed away flushed and frightened. Potter mumbled some inaudible words and turned back to run to the Gryffindor common room located on this floor. Regulus smiled to himself, Potter was bound to tell his brother and the thought of Sirius squirming was enough to keep him happy.

———

“Regulus!” Barty shouted from across the dorm, making him lose the small grasp at sleep he had.
“What?”
“You can’t sleep in all that makeup!” He yelled back, throwing him a dampened towel. Regulus sat up, scrubbing his makeup off and feeling the sharp terry loops bite at the pores of his precious skin. While sliding out of bed, he watched Evan snatch Barty by the line of his boxers and tugged him into bed. Deciding that he did not want to watch the aftermath of that, he decided he would go on a soothing midnight walk through the Hogwarts dungeons and maybe stop off at the library to return his book on pure-blood lineage.

Regulus slammed the door shut and made his way through the common room, which felt like walking through an active battlefield as he had to avoid judging stares from other slytherins given his Halloween costume. To be fair, gothic style and male pure-blood fashion was not too different, both had dark fitted clothing. At least Regulus had scrubbed off his makeup except for the kohl which wouldn’t budge despite the towel. Finally he made it out to the dungeons, there was barely any light which was just how he liked it.

He walked through the narrow corridors, every step he took being light in order for Filch and Mrs Norris not to find him. Even if they did, it would be fine as Regulus could say he was returning from prefect patrol. Just as he turned the corner, his eyes glimpsed the sight of Potter walking towards him.

“Regulus.”
“Potter.”

They stood in a silence which Regulus was more than comfortable in.

“Were you seriously flirting with me earlier?” Asked Potter, standing too close for his liking, he could practically hear Potter’s frantic heartbeat.
“And what if I was, Potter?” Asked Regulus, suddenly his mouth uttered words that he hadn’t permitted. Suddenly he enjoyed how he confused the other boy, again noticing how enticing he looked in that zombie costume. He blushed and quickly dismissed the idea of him sleeping with Potter.

“And I’m telling you right now that I have absolutely no interest in sleeping with a pretentious inbred prick who’s the brother of my best friend.” Potter was clearly drunk and angry, but the way he stood leaning over a wall, wand in hand, seemed somewhat appealing to him. Regulus looked up at him, making eye contact for the first time, his green eyes piercing the other boy.

Was the infamous golden boy of Gryffindor being mean? Regulus was honoured, he might just be the first. A small slither of Regulus found this raw insolence sexy but he’ll never admit it. Drunk and angry Potter might just be all he thinks about for the passing days. He scowled at the other boy and left, retreating back to the Slytherin common rooms while he heard Potter protest.

———

Last night was a blur from Regulus’ head, all he could remember was an angry Potter, a flirty drunk Regulus. He sat up on his bed and looked himself in the mirror, his eyeliner had now disappeared from his waterline and his skin was drier than the Sahara. He looked at the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand showing it was 5AM, Barty, Evan, and Dorcas were fast asleep. He slipped away into the cupboard grabbing his snail mucin moisturiser and quickly changed into a fresh pair of robes. He sat by the dresser, staring at the mirror opposite his bed that he’d seen his reflection in earlier, and began to apply the disgusting paste.

All he could think about was how Potter looked last night in rags and face paint, he felt silly for feeling attraction to a boy yelling at him for how he’d never sleep with him. Regulus was confused how Potter had even thought that he wanted to sleep with him, he had never said anything implying it.

Potter just seemed to be the type to hear one witty quip and think it automatically means sex. So egoistical. Yet so mouth-watering

Even if Potter liked him and wanted to be involved with him, even though Regulus doesn’t, he knows that he cannot be emotionally vulnerable. He feels things to a capacity that nobody will ever see.

To harness great power, devoid all emotions.

That’s what the Heir of Black must be.

Chapter Text

It was the middle of November and Regulus had already been driven insane by a variety of unexpected factors. He was hurriedly walking from Transfiguration to Potions, his favourite class. Since he had already covered the sixth year syllabus over the summer, Slughorn had authorised him to use spare potions classrooms for whatever he wanted. Regulus had told him that he was brewing a variety of difficult potions, which was true but he was experimenting more than brewing. Today however, he was brewing a notoriously dangerous potion.

He loved his privilege, as this means he can perfect his already impeccable potions skills as well as brew potions without a care for conventional safety precautions. He used his wand to make a thin layer between his hands and the surroundings, essentially gloves but so thin that he couldn’t feel it yet still freely move all his fingers, because the ingredients for his draught required physical labor. He had already added two cups of Wormwood infusion, it was bubbling the cauldron already. Grabbing a pestle and mortar, he began to grind roots of Asphodel until all that remained was a fine powder. He carefully poured it into his potion, then stirred it clockwise twice and it turned a metallic grey shade. Just like Sirius’ eyes.

He then took a preprepared cup of sloth brain and transferred it into the black cauldron. Turning away, he paced to a matchbox and took out a pod of Sopophorus beans. He carefully cracked it open and plucked a singular bean out and held it over the cauldron. A bubbling sound was heard as he squeezed the juice, finally discarding it dried. He stirred seven times anti-clockwise.

The potion bubbled vigorously, meaning that the draught of living death was ready.

———

After a tediously long time of vial cleansing and pouring, he was finally done for the day. He tucked the ten vials away in his uniform robes and headed back down the corridor. He had to make it to the kitchens to grab scraps of dinner as he had missed the allocated time. He liked this blissful silence at around 10PM, it was curfew so no students were out other than the occasional prefect, and Regulus could simply lie and say he was returning from prefect duties.

He turned the corner to the kitchen before he saw a figure, they had their back turned to him and he was crouching over what looked like a black dog. Regulus stopped his step and hid behind the corner with only his eyes peeking out.
“Good boy!” Exclaimed the figure with short hair, presumably a boy. In turn, the dog barked but then quickly transfigured back into a human. As he blinked, the figures had gone as if invisible.

He was clearly hallucinating things again, he thought to himself as he quickly paced back down the stairs, back to his dorm. He was going mad, he had luckily prepared a draught for his hallucinations hours before. As soon as he entered his dorm of sleeping Barty, Evan, and Dorcas, he sat at the foot of his bed and took a quick sip. He knew that a small dose of the potion would knock him out for only a night, which was perfect. The reason why he did this was because he suspected these images were from his lack of sleep, or in muggle terms insomnia. He rarely got sleep and when he did, it was bad quality of sleep as it was mainly nightmares where he’d wake up with an adrenaline rush in an hour, terrified.

As he set the vial on the nightstand, he was consumed with a blackness as his eyes fell shut, all he could see was a younger version of him staring right back at him, tears rolling down his cheeks.

———

Regulus’ dreams POV:

A young boy ran around a field full of lilies of the valleys, carelessly frolicking with pollen in his long dark hair. That boy was followed by another, only smaller with shorter, curlier hair and sharper features. The younger one chased the older one, both toppling over each other and holding onto one another, as if they were the last on earth.

Sirius began to pick his brother up in his arms, Reggie smiled and giggled as his older brother ran around simulating as if he was flying.
“I’ll never drop you, Reggie!” He exclaimed but his words were lost in the sound of a breeze, and suddenly Regulus fell out of his brothers arms, onto the ground as his brother flew away with the breeze, far away.

A simple black screen and then the young boy was back, locked in the basement hearing the sounds of Walburga speaking to Bellatrix. Bellatrix was manically cackling, while Narcissa's voice just made short comments. The boy lay down at the edge of the basement, shivering as he was stripped naked.

“You should’ve thought about it when you let hour brother run!” Yelled Bellatrix from outside, with a continuous sound of wicked laughter. The young boy looked down to his wrist, his veins were practically invisible from how dehydrated he was. The boy sat, the room spun and spun until it was dark again.

The door opened, and revealed Walburga dressed in a black gown, her pedicure was blood red just like her nails. Her veins on her eyelids were so prominent they were bulging out of her pale eyelids, her lips paper thin drawn to a resting scowl. Bellatrix barged in beside her, wearing a black corset and a black maxi netted skirt, with leather combat boots. Her dark curls were wild, untamed, which he thought was a reflection of her mad personality.

Finally Narcissa made an appearance, pushing her head over to reveal her black short hair, straight as an arrow and whipped over her shoulder, no blonde highlights like now. He could only see her top half wearing a white peplum top which rather suited her, her eyes held a glint of misery but her silence spoke for itself.

Bellatrix screamed some inaudible words, her boot crushing his nose and a sound of cracking bones echoed throughout the house. Blood ran down his face mixed with the tears of young Regulus, he looked up at the ceiling wondering how the Potters treated him. He was so lucky he wasn’t beaten every night, wasn’t groomed to be the heir, and had no responsibilities. He truly hated his brother on that day, more than the Dark Lord himself

Regulus had trapped himself in a cycle of nightmares in which he could never wake up.

———

Eyes wide open, he had finally escaped the terror dreams, as he saw it was 6AM. His body was gushing with adrenaline, it felt it was about to go fight Walburga herself. He inhaled deeply, wishing the mattress would swallow him whole before he had a panic attack.

It was too late.

He was sweaty, anxious, breathing crazily, nauseous and exhausted. Dorcas woke up suddenly, looking worried and rushed over to him.

“Regulus? Regulus! Breathe. Breathe in, then out.” She repeated this last phrase over and over, and surprisingly he found it helpful. He crashed into her shoulders, shutting his eyes and pretending she was Sirius. Droplets glistened from his eyes, as he slowly regained his control and bolted up straight.

“Forget this ever happened and go to sleep.” He commanded, his tone back to its usual frigid tone.
“But-”
“Go.” With no more insolent protest, she climbed back into her bed and shut her eyes. She knew better than to question him on his own wellbeing. She must know he was truly a lost cause when it came to panic attacks.

This was the fourth time she’d seen him panic so much, he could expect a questioning later. He sat up in his bed, grabbing the copy of Metamorphosis. He flickered on a light with his wand, and held it so he could read more.

“I only fear danger where I want to fear it.” This line felt so resonating with him, he realised he must adopt the mindset of this great man, even if muggle, he was ahead of his time. Regulus even doubted whether Kafka was halfblood, this was better than whatever bullshit the pretentious pureblood philosophers wrote. Nothing from his family’s library could compare to this.

The book was so horribly graphic but so beautifully written, he hated the fact that he loved it. Regulus had never really fell in love with muggle literature, he’d brushed a little Camus once or twice but only because he was a halfblood but still counted as a muggle author, there was a bit of Plath that he truly enjoyed as well but she was a pureblood but published muggle literature.

He thought back to her beautiful illusion of the fig tree, how life was full of choices and how she slowly saw the figs shrivel. Regulus was disappointed that Plath had committed suicide, she had no more novels but only poetry which he didn’t complain about. Her poetry was written in such a style that she truly understood what it was like, as if she were living in his skin.

Regulus doesn’t think he’ll ever find an author like Plath. Kafka and Camus are good too, but they’re works can’t compare to his first book of muggle literature, the messy metaphors and trickery of illusion, it all felt surreal to him.

Chapter Text

It was the end of November, and Regulus had lost his will to live. Late at night he had been having these rather disturbing thoughts, and did not know whether to tell anybody, maybe his friends or perhaps a healer, but he knew that truly he had no capacity to share and be a burden in someone else’ mind. At the end of the day, he is destined to die alone with only his thoughts and words, things that will never be uttered to anyone. Nobody will know if he is drowning in his thoughts or just uptight frowny Regulus. The beauty of all of his thoughts that they were so morbid that they can just float around at the back of his mind, in his subconscious while he goes insane on a long time frame and slowly plot his own suicide.

He refuses to die at the hand of anyone but his own.

The only human that could take him down was his personified conscience.

This conscience knew that Regulus Arcturus Black was destined to do evil, that the cold heart beating inside him was truly incapable of healthy affection. Instead, it simply reaped to destroy and spoil every small opportunity that was given to him, whether it be as insignificant as his prefect title or something as important as being the Heir of Black. These thoughts were the main reason he struggled to get out of bed, to eat or to take a shower, it was as if they had paralysed him, he was no longer the master of his own body. It had gotten to a point in the first week of November that he stopped getting up on weekends, instead he would just rot in his bed and silently weep.

Barty and Evan haven’t noticed a thing as they are too busy exploring Hogwarts to find new places to hookup, and Pandora has been very busy with her various whimsy projects, it was only Dorcas he had to lie to. It wasn’t easy, but he got the hang of the routinely lies every time Dorcas wanted to spend time on the weekends, but eventually she got the hint that he was busy, and she stopped asking.The excuses ranged from homework to being unwell to having prefect duties, the latter he mostly skipped now and he was sure that nobody noticed, it's not like he socialised with any of the prefects he patrolled with. In fact, he was sure that the other prefects dreaded being paired with Regulus as they would bore themselves in the silence.

All he knew was that nobody loved the boy, or at least not enough to see what he was going through. Regulus was no genius but he knew that he was suffering from depression, but even if he told people nobody would believe him, and again he would have to be a burden to others. Truly, he was simply alone and stuck with his thoughts and he missed not being paralysed and sleeping for sixteen hours each day of the weekend, not that it was really sleep as he would wake up from a nightmare every forty five minutes, he missed seeing Dorcas and the other skittles, hell he even missed the privilege of being able to get into costume and go to parties, now he could barely walk for five minutes without feeling light-headed.

What irritated him the most was how most people just assumed he couldn’t feel anything, after all he was a “perfect” pureblood in most people’s eyes. All because he had good grades after meticulous hours in the summer of studying, he was good looking because he starved himself most days, and that the boy seemed so unwaveringly neutral which was because he could never express his feelings outwardly. He had never been in an environment where it was safe to show your true feelings when he was growing up, so he wore the mask and could never take it off. The tongue of the boy learned to lie to please those around him, to never be truthful and to always say what is expected, be it around his parents or his friends.

Whoever assumed that he didn’t feel much, they’re wrong. He felt. He cared. Just too much for anyone’s liking, after all the last person that he was emotionally vulnerable and truthful with ran away leaving him behind. Not a slither of consideration for him, no doubtful glance or empathetic hesitation. Every man for himself is what Orion had drilled into both of their son’s heads, and it was clear that at the very least Sirius took it to heart that night. Nobody on this planet, muggle nor wizard, had the capacity to understand what he meant with his complex body language, muffled speech or bizarre behaviours, not even his own brother nor best friend.

That is why he will be alone, dying at his own hand with his desire to be unconditionally loved choking him.

—---

Thursday night, Regulus has come back from his patrol duty. It was solo patrol tonight because Remus had food poisoning, leaving him to deal with the fifth year slytherins terrorising the third year Hufflepuffs. He was proud of himself for not skipping prefect duties today, but he was becoming weak and tired, so he slumbered to the dresser and his fingers hooked around Dorcas’ muggle deodorant. He applied it just like she had done, spraying it under his armpits. It smelled pretty strong in the room afterwards but did stop him from smelling too bad from not taking showers. His eyes glanced upon his reflection without permission, and a boy with scruffy greasy curls, five different breakouts and horrible under eye bags stared back at him.

He looked demented and deranged, as if he was on a transformation into that creature from the Kafka book. He looked at himself more and more, noticing how clogged his pores were, how dry his skin was, and how he looked so repulsive generally. This skeleton had been showing up to class everyday and barely making it alive in the end, not showering and only eating scraps of snacks he could find at the dorm, he wondered how everyone was so ignorant. If Barty, Evan, Pandora, or Dorcas looked like this he would check up on them, but all of them had assumed by his non-affectionate demeanour that everything was fine. He despised it. He despised his idiot ignorant friends. But most of all, he despised himself, because the only person to blame for this emotional asphyxiation was himself.

He sat there for a while, dissecting every part of him that his eyes would present him with. He noticed how his eyelids were ever so slightly asymmetrical, how his nose was protruding and large, how ugly his unplucked eyebrows were and how they were growing to become united. Soon he slumped back into his bed, throwing the sheets up and removing his hot pillow, taking his scruffy hair and running his hands over that oil. He started wondering if getting a healer would help this issue, but rebuked the idea at once because he would never be able to open up to them and he’d only be wasting their time with their pointless interrogations, another potential burden he could be. A small part of him just loved the attention others would give him, most likely because growing up Sirius was always expected to be the heir so he would get all of his parents' care, leaving him to suffocate in neglect. But his conscience was deeper and would never let him say a word to anyone, he couldn’t bear to shackle anyone with his problems and have them waste their energy worrying about him, after all every man is on his own.

—---

It was coming to the end of November, he had already wasted his three months at Hogwarts with not much progress to show for it. All he’s found is that it is rumoured that Voldemort is a parseltongue, and every Slytherin worth their word knows that the ability to speak parseltongue comes from the descent of Salazar Slytherin, and in modern sacred 28 family with that lineage is the Gaunt family. The trouble was that there was no trace of a Gaunt for a long time frame, and he knew that Voldemort could not be that old. The last descendant of the Gaunt family was Merope Gaunt, she had died in childbirth, but there were no muggle records of illness or the files. This meant that the father was most likely a muggle which is odd considering how Voldemort believed in blood purity. He knew that there would be files about that child somewhere in Hogwarts, considering that the Dark Lord is confirmed to have been a student here, but they were all concealed and he had no clue how to get ahold of them.

For now, his trail on the Gaunt family runs cold, but Regulus is persistent on getting answers, after all his sole purpose is to take the Dark Lord down himself, and in order for that he must get the most information. For now, all he knows is that Voldemort most likely is the child of Merope Gaunt, and a halfblood. Obviously this is not enough for him, but this purpose in life is the only thing helping him get over his mental paralysis, it is something to free his cruel mind of other than gruesome fantasies and realisations of how painfully pathetic that the boy was emotionally.

Chapter Text

Tonight was the night which separated November and December, one glum month to another. Dusk had fallen in between these dry days, and this was the only time that he felt alive, the only time his invisible illness failed to paralyse his desire to consume the knowledge surrounding the circumstances of Voldemort. He was making his way estraying prefect route and up into the library. His eyes centred towards the ginger girl holed up in her potions textbook. He walked over to her, his eyes glimpsing at her appearance, scanning and scrutinising every small imperfection of her. See, he would not typically judge someone on their looks but this was different. Lily was his direct opposition for James.

Her hair was up into a messy bun, she wore a plain hoodie and sweatpants, which he had to wrinkle his nose in disgust at her.
“You have to return back to the dormitory. It is a curfew, even for 7th years.” Her sharp green eyes glanced up at him, and he took time to scan over her puffy eyebags, which he swore were honestly larger than her eyes. Despite her scruffy clothes and serious lack of sleep, she still remained enchantingly beautiful, she was the same sort of pretty that Regulus would class Pandora as. The features which exemplified this were her dimples of her cheeks, the long frail lashes protecting her eyes from his gaze, and the slight yellowness of her teeth.

Her lips pursed at the sight of him, she quickly glanced up at the clock and slipped off into the silent corridors outside. He muttered lumos under his breath, his wand harnessing a small white light as he made his way to the restricted section. His fingers hooked onto the Hogwarts students' records, and he laid out the scruffy papers along an empty desk. His eyes scanned onto the pages. There had to be something he was missing, and he knew that there was nothing that would slip from his sight.

Tom Riddle 5th Year 194

Riddle has been awarded a Special Award for Services to the School. He has discovered the culprit behind the attacks that are harming students, Rubeus Hagrid who has been expelled. The creature in question is named a Basilisk, rumoured to be lurking under a chamber installed by Salzar Slytherin. Only an heir to the line of Gaunt may open this chamber, and this basilisk had petrified numerous muggle-born students. When Hagrid was expelled, these attacks stopped.

Regulus paused his reading. This made absolutely no sense, while Hagrid may have been of the Gaunt lineage, Riddle was a direct blood relative. From his own understanding, Riddle framed Hagrid for unleashing the vicious monster, saving his own reputation while tarnishing another. He had aligned this as a definite suspect to be Voldemort, after all Riddle was a muggle name, and whoever opened the chamber must have been part Gaunt. Now all he needed was to find this alleged basilisk, but for this he was stumped. There must be more evidence, somewhere and somehow he will attain them if it is the last thing he does in his life.

—--

After a painstaking week, he found himself allowed to spend the weekends at the Black Manor. This was for the Black traditions party of his cousin Narcissa just before the wedding in December, and Walburga had specially requested that he would be pulled for this ‘momentous occasion’ as Slughorn put it. He found himself in slim black slacks, a black vest with a white undershirt, and a green tie with a blazer slung round to pull him together. He knew that his family had odd traditions when one of their own female members, and he had already done this when his cousin Bellatrix married Rodolphous Lestrange. This was a perfect opportunity to cuddle up to Lucius who would also traditionally attend, and to maybe rummage his private office for any clues.

In tradition, the women invited would flock to the manor of the bride’s family, while the men would go to the husband’s family manor. The last time he had done this, he went with his father to the Lestrange castle, and had drunk much more than a thirteen year old should, recalling how Sirius was not with him to hear the graphic descriptions of muggle purging, hearing men brag as if it were an awardable affair. He made his way to the fireplace to apparate, only to be stopped by the cruel eyes of Walburga Black.

“Regulus.”
“Mother.” The exchange of blows was more in the eyes than their words, he found his eyes daunting between the cold stare of Lady Black and the large emerald necklace covering her neck.
“Use this event to socialise with Lucius, the man is highly ranked amongst the Dark Lord. It is only a foreseeable future until you will join him.” He watched as she came to a halt, her eyes flickering to the hearth. He was dismissed as he apparated to Malfoy manor.

Upon first glances, he could tell that the Malfoys were clearly well off, from the ornate Christmas decorations to the house elf, they were loaded just like the Blacks. Momentarily, he got lost in thought about how superfluous the nature of it all was, how he questioned his own motives for this.

A surge of numbness swallowed him whole as he found a hatred burning at the back of his mind. He found himself analysing everyone who laid eyes on him, how he had to wear a mask to whoever he spoke to, whether it be the snobby bootlickers or his best friends, he always naturally hated them. Truly, he was simply a selfishly manipulative man who socially engineered more than anyone would credit him for. Of course, the skittles had figured this manipulative side of him but they all considered just a simple flaw and glossed over it, ignoring the extent of his problem and how much it affected their lives. A blissful innocence stemming from ignorance which is the only reason he had friends. Truth be told, he hated them just as much as the blood purists, because generally he hated hypocrites.

Regulus hated how he never really felt heard when he spoke to Pandora, how she was always living in a different reality and would never really take a word he said seriously, only saying “me too” or “relatable” to any problem that he had. She also would always complain too much about the hundreds of commitments that she voluntarily took and let people down due to her disorganisation but never did anything about it but complain. He despised how Dorcas was so controlling and so hellbent on every single detail of everything, how she was so quick to jump to opinions and so close-minded. Evan would often always have a horrid temper, it was only things that would go his way or the highway, constantly snapping at everyone when they got stressed and deeply lacking emotional intelligence. Barty was too unstable for his own good, constantly manic and never really understanding boundaries, how he always blabbed about secrets as if it were nothing.

A part of the reason why they were so quick to overlook Regulus’ flaws was simply because he was a good listener. It made him feel good that he knew everything about everyone but they all only had small fragments of his life. They never knew what was currently troubling him, only past problems. He had learnt well enough that the skittles were only temporary floater friends, for him to get through Hogwarts before he took down the Dark Lord. All he knew was that these hypocrites squawked too much for their own good, and he was a manipulative, scheming, deceptively judgemental man who posed himself as the perfect victim. Because in front of these true desires, he was simply just a people pleaser, and his friends loved this facade more than he did. They loved speaking to him about their problems, but if he ever even tried to open up about James, they would shut him down and call him repetitive despite their constant rants. The idea of him being stuck with them forever mortified him, he’d rather change his name and travel to France.

He still liked his friends, but he always just kept them at an arms length. He knew they all hated each other and probably equally hated him, so it was justified in his twisted conscience. Still, rage churned at the thought of them, they all just got on his nerves with their immature habits. You see, the difference between them and him was that he would never hurt someone for his own selfish means, just position them to suit his desires. While they constantly hurt each other and do not even realise it to the massive ego bubble forming a shield of ignorance around their social acknowledgement.

—---

About two hours into the party, Regulus found himself sitting in Lucius Malfoy’s personal office with a drunk babbler yapping to him about the Dark Lord.

“And then, that sickly looking mudblood had the nerve of asking me to spare him! I mean, you wouldn’t believe-” And at this point, he stopped listening to the disgusting animal of a man, but his eyes gleamed at the sight of a safe in the corner of his peripherals, and Regulus trained himself to avoid looking at it to be devoid of Malfoy’s suspicion.

Malfoy continued to ramble about his family wealth and how captivating the idea of combining two noble pureblood families by marriage was, how he found his bride-to-be an “ethereally divine seraph” with her “virtuously domestic nature” all the while Regulus could not stop thinking about how to unlock it.

Finally, some pretentious-looking old man entered and ushered away Lucius to discuss political affairs, Regulus assumed he was one of Malfoy’s allies in the ministry.

The minute that Malfoy had followed the corrupt man, he took out his wand and approached the safe cautiously. He muttered a few basic incantations which surprisingly opened it. A small black book sat inside an empty locker, it was obvious to him that nobody had touched this in a long while.
“Wingardium Leviosa!” as the book slowly floated above his wand, and he held it in his arms protectively, he made his way to the other fireplace to discreetly use the floo network back to Grimmauld place.