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princeblack · 4 months

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Regulus wakes to a knock at the door, followed by a creaking sound as it opens immediately. Blinking bleary green eyes open, he doesn’t see anyone standing in the doorway, so he knows it’s Kreacher. Sure enough, the house elf’s voice follows. “Good morning, Young Master… Kreacher is here to wake you on behalf of Mistress’s orders. She requests you are ready to depart for King’s Cross by nine o’clock, so you must dress and eat now–”

“Yes, good morning, Kreacher…” Regulus’s voice is groggy and his patience thin, because despite how endearing it always was that the house elf took his job very seriously, it also quickly became exhausting when at the crack of dawn. “Tell Mother I’ll be down in ten minutes.”

Kreacher walks to the edge of his room, folding his hands together as big pale eyes gaze up at Regulus, who’s still in his pajamas. “Yes, Young Master. Kreacher is happy to serve…”

Sitting up, he glances down thoughtfully at the house elf. “Go make yourself some tea and have some eggs and toast, okay?”

Sometimes his mother would ‘forget’ to give the loyal house elf his breaks, something that Regulus made sure to command him to take. “That’s an order, so you must.”

The house elf sniffs a little, the way he always does when he thinks someone might be contradicting Regulus’s mother in any way, but he ultimately agrees. “Yes, Young Master… Master Regulus is generous and will make his mother proud when he’s sorted into the noble house of Slytherin.”

Regulus smiles, unable to contain his natural reaction to the elf. “And I’m looking forward to it. Now, get out of my room so I can change.”

The small house elf bows before leaving, closing the door on his way out. It leaves Regulus in silence, contemplating the future. He’s sixteen and finally going to attend Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, just like his predecessors. He would no doubt be sorted into the same house as the rest of his family, and if his home-schooling grades were to be trusted, he would be even more talented in an official academic setting. Everyone expected him to succeed, from his parents to his extended family, including Lucius and Bellatrix. They had already placed their trust and expectations in him, allowing him to attend secret and lavish meetings with the Dark Lord at the Lestrange mansion and various hidden places. Lucius would often say that Draco had much to learn from Regulus, only ‘hoping’ his son would amount to as much both magically and academically. Draco wasn’t allowed to attend the parties or meetings yet, with Lucius claiming he had maturing to do, but Regulus had met Lord Voldemort. Lucius explained he was in a specter form after Harry Potter’s ‘defeat’, in a weakened state and requiring a body to fully walk in their realm again. From what Regulus could tell, Voldemort was smart and well-spoken, only wanting to protect the wizarding world from outsiders and even itself.

It was hard for Regulus to imagine, after living in a wizard’s village the entirety of his life, why muggles would be allowed into their society when they wanted them dead for most of recorded history. Would anyone who wasn’t brought up in their ways truly understand them, or would they be biased to their muggle roots, always defending them even when the magical world was at risk? His father always said that despite the Black family’s riches, their heritage and family was the most important valuable of them all, and they were to protect their magical blood with their lives or it would bring shame upon their fathers and their fathers before them.

He’s heard from his family about the state of muggleborns at Hogwarts, being admitted in just the same as those from wizarding families. Every student was even designated to use muggle transportation to get to the school, in the name of cohesion (“That crackpot old fool doesn’t want to admit he’s boot-licking the muggles”, as Lucius had said to his father). Regulus thought it was an overreaction on his relative’s part, but he did see the fear beneath, and he felt it all around him as muggles were integrated into their society more and more. What if their secret was to be found out, and they were hunted to extinction when their numbers were already dwindled to so few? What if magic was bred out of their bloodlines completely? Even the paintings of Grimmauld Place talked about it and it was never far from the back of Regulus’s mind.

But something else that never left his mind was Sirius’s dusty room, still untouched at the topmost landing of the mansion. There were Permanent Sticking Charms on a lot of the decorations on the wall, including the Gryffindor banners hanging everywhere. Regulus had often wondered how Sirius was the only one in the family to become sorted into Gryffindor, and what exactly had happened between him and their parents that led to his disownment. But his mother and father were tight-lipped, telling Regulus he’s a murderer and a blood traitor. This didn’t quite match up with Regulus’s research, which indicated that Sirius was immediately escorted to Azkaban upon the murder of muggles in broad daylight, all because of his maddened support for the Dark Lord. But none of his family was willing to talk of the incident, and none of the death eaters either. If Sirius ever supported Lord Voldemort or if he was a fraud who de-famed their organization with careless murder in the streets, Regulus never knew. All he knew was his brother’s image was burned from the family tree and the remains of his life here were frozen in time in his bedroom at the top of the stairs.

He thinks about all of these things as he gets dressed, wearing a dark brown cable knit sweater and a black cashmere coat. It isn’t until he finishes getting ready, stopping by his bathroom, before he finally goes downstairs to greet his mother at the dining room table.

There are two plates of food already placed, his mother waiting, giving him a thin smile as he approaches. ”Well, go on. Hurry and eat up before you make your father late. He’s leaving work to pick us up in the ministry car to see you off, but he needs to get back to the office in a timely manner. There was a duel between two goblins in downtown London that needs cover-up… Blew out the side of a residential building and the muggles are in an uproar.”

A portrait of Regulus’s great grandmother, who was positioned near the entrance to the dining room, gives a derisive cough. “I say leave it blown up… The Muggle scum deserved it.”

“I quite agree, Hesper,” Regulus’s mother says, starting to eat her eggs. “But they can’t know of us, so Orion does his job dutifully.”

“I don’t have much left to pack, anyways,” Regulus says, moving to sit down. “I’ve been waiting for this day my entire life, so I’m a little over prepared…” It’s hard to even worry, he’s so prepared. He knows exactly what happens when he gets to Hogwarts and he’s positive he’ll be in Slytherin.

“Nonsense,” his mother shakes her head. “There’s no such thing as over prepared. But, Regulus, we need to talk about your priorities when you get there. I don’t want any distractions, or assosiacting with blood traitors. I hope to be able to trust you, and not lose you like we did with your brother.” Her tone is brittle, but he can see in her eyes that even the thought of Sirius has made her upset. “If I hear of you fraternizing with any of those muggle-loving fools, I’ll bring you straight back home. Do you understand?”

Regulus stiffens, not eating for a moment as he glances up at his mother. “I understand. I’m only interested in my studies, anyway.” Truth be told, he’s never liked her iron grip, telling him what he can and can’t do. But he respects his family and doesn’t want to end up alone (or worse, in Azkaban) like Sirius. Besides, she knew better, didn’t she? And the Dark Lord was a powerful wizard with influence and a community; someone he wanted to be like.

So he finishes his breakfast as his mother rattles on about his first semester, thinking about all of the belongings he needs to put in his trunk before they depart.

His father arrives late in the ministry car afforded to him by being Head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. His mother ushers them all in, bickering with his father the entire way to King’s Cross. They just barely make it to the platform in time, his mother planting a kiss on his cheek and his father giving him an encouraging pat on the back before sending him on his way.

Regulus already knows what to do; pushing his trolley to the bricked barrier and running through it, magically appearing onto platform nine and three-quarters. The Hogwarts Express is exactly as he expected it to look; a large, red steam engine with billowing steam. There was a chattering crowd around him as other students said last minute goodbyes to their parents closer to the train, something that made Regulus jealous as he passed by. Instead, his father had been more concerned with his job, rushing back to the car to return to the ministry, as usual.

Compared to his family, formal and strictly business, a lot of these families seemed close almost. One girl clung to her mother in tears, as if she couldn’t bear to let her go for the term. There were animals everywhere, from cats wandering the platform to owls hooting in cages. Most everyone was starting to file onto the train, Regulus finally bringing in the rear.

Just as he reaches the stairs, he notices someone else struggling with their trunk, trying to get it up the steps. He can only see her back, but she’s wearing an orange sweater and a dark plaid skirt, matching her small brown boots. She has auburn curls and he can see flowers woven into them, which catches his interest.

Finally seeming to realize she was standing in the entrance for too long, she turns to look at him and he’s stunned into silence for a moment. She has the prettiest face he’s ever seen; a small, delicate chin, high cheek bones and big blue eyes that almost sparkle. Remembering he should probably say something, he quickly tries to cover up his reaction. “Hello,” he starts, almost nervously. This is the first person he’s spoken to that’s going to Hogwarts and isn’t from Grimswood like the Malfoys or Greengrasses or Rosiers. How was he supposed to know if she was from a pureblood family? He pushes aside the thought of his family, instead focusing on the present. “Let me help you with that,” he offers, stepping forward to take the trunk from her. His hand brushes hers as he takes the handle. Lifting it, he puts it on the top step before turning to get his own luggage so he can follow behind her. / @devcted

#Ⅰ. ⸻ / 𝑹.𝑨.𝑩. ( prose ) .#Ⅰ. ⸻ / 𝑹.𝑨.𝑩. ( 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. bexley ) .#Ⅰ. ⸻ / 𝑹.𝑨.𝑩. ( canon thread ) .

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