Welcome to your life
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Regulus Black was a boy with storm-grey eyes and an expression always guarded, as if he carried the weight of a world no one else could see. The Black Manor, with its darkened halls and ancestral tapestries, was a place where silence was louder than any scream. To outsiders, Walburga and Orion Black were model parents: flawless and proud of their lineage. But to Regulus, they were something far different.
From an early age, he learned that love in the Black household came with conditions. Walburga, sharp-tongued and steel-eyed, demanded perfection. Each mistake, no matter how small, was corrected with words that cut deeper than any curse—her specialty was mental torment. Orion, on the other hand, held the role of enforcer. The violence in their home, though veiled, was physical; Sirius bore the brunt of his father’s wrath through hexes while Regulus faced the cold force of discipline. Orion’s cruelty was quiet, detached, as if fulfilling his role were no more than a duty.
Regulus tried to be the perfect son. He memorized the names of their ancestors, recited the tenets of pureblood supremacy, and maintained an impeccable composure. Yet it was never enough. Sirius, his older brother, openly defied their parents and mocked their rules. For every rebellion, Regulus felt the burden double on his shoulders—he wasn’t only tasked with being perfect, but with compensating for Sirius’s failings.
One night, after Sirius had been locked in his room following yet another explosive argument, Regulus overheard Walburga whispering to Orion in the drawing room below. “He’s a disgrace to our lineage. But Regulus... Regulus will be our legacy.” Those words should have been reassuring, but to Regulus, they felt like a sentence. There was no escape for him. He was their legacy, and his life was no longer his own.
The abuse was subtle, masked by gestures that appeared innocuous on the surface. A grip on the arm that left marks, a glare that made his heart race with dread, or words spoken so quietly they carried more venom than a shouted curse. Regulus learned how to conceal his feelings, how to smile when it was expected, and how to never, ever show weakness.
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"You know I’m going to leave, Reggie. One day, I’ll walk out of here, and if you don’t come with me, you’ll be trapped here forever," Sirius said, his voice heavy with determination and despair. The night seemed to hold its breath, the air pressing close as if the world itself awaited Regulus’s answer.
Regulus wasn’t naive; he had always known this day would come. Every argument, every slammed door—it had been building to this. But knowing didn’t make the dread any easier to bear. Leaving was a terrible dream—both desired and unthinkable. Freedom had always been tantalizingly out of reach, and the price seemed impossibly high.
"Sometimes," Regulus murmured, his gaze fixed on the void beyond the window, "we have to sacrifice something to bring happiness to others." He didn’t dare meet Sirius’s eyes, but he could feel his brother’s intense stare on him. "If we both leave, they’ll come after you. And when they find you… you know what they’ll do. I can’t let that happen."
Sirius shook his head slowly, unwilling to accept the truth but unable to fight it. The fire of rebellion burned bright in his eyes, but beneath it was something softer—sorrow, perhaps even guilt. He knew Regulus was right. And Regulus knew that to save Sirius, he would have to stay.
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Regulus Black woke to the muffled sound of hurried footsteps in the corridor. The Black Manor, usually suffocated by an oppressive silence, felt alive that night—but not in a way that brought comfort. He knew something was wrong. Rising from his bed, his bare feet met the icy floor as he carefully opened the door just enough to peer out.
Sirius was there, standing at the end of the corridor, a bag slung over his shoulder, and an expression torn between rage and resolve. Regulus’s chest tightened. He knew what this meant. Sirius was leaving.
For a fleeting moment, Regulus wanted to call out, to run to him, to beg him to stay. But he knew it would be futile. Sirius had always been the rebel, the one who confronted their parents head-on, the one who never bowed to the family’s rules. And deep down, Regulus understood. He understood why Sirius had to leave, why he couldn’t endure the suffocating weight of their home any longer. But understanding didn’t make the ache in his chest any less sharp.
"You’re really going to do it?" Regulus’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it was enough to make Sirius pause. His brother turned to face him, his storm-grey eyes glinting in the dim light.
"I can’t stay here, Reg. I just can’t. They’ll destroy me if I do," Sirius said, his voice heavy with emotion yet unwavering in its resolve. It was clear—his mind was made up.
Regulus stepped further out of his room, closing the door softly behind him. He wanted to say so much, but the words clung to his throat, unspoken. He wanted to tell Sirius that he understood, that he felt the weight of the house too, that he also dreamed of running. But he couldn’t. He knew that if they both left, their parents would never rest until Sirius was found. And when they did, there would be no mercy.
"If you go, they’ll hate you even more," Regulus said, his voice trembling. "But if I go with you… they’ll kill you, Sirius. I can’t let that happen."
Sirius took a step forward, placing a hand firmly on Regulus’s shoulder. "You don’t have to stay here for me, Reg. You don’t have to carry that weight."
"But I do," Regulus replied, his gaze fixed on the cold floor beneath them. "If I stay, they’ll focus on me. They’ll mold me into the perfect son, the one who follows the rules. And that will give you time. Time to be free."
Sirius opened his mouth to protest but closed it again, defeated by the truth of Regulus’s words. "You don’t deserve this, Reg. You deserve freedom too."
Regulus finally looked up, and there was a quiet strength in his eyes that Sirius hadn’t seen before. "Maybe one day. But not today."
For a moment, the brothers stood in silence, locked in an unspoken understanding. Then Sirius took a step back, adjusting the strap of his bag. "I’ll come back for you, Reg. I promise."
Regulus nodded, unable to say anything more. He stood frozen as Sirius descended the stairs and disappeared into the night. When silence reclaimed the manor, Regulus felt the crushing weight of responsibility settle over his shoulders. He knew his life would never be the same again.
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The Hogwarts Express pulled out of Platform 9¾, and Regulus felt his heart pounding as the station faded into the distance. It was his first chance to escape, even if only temporarily, from the constant pressure of the Black household. Yet even here, he knew his family’s expectations would follow him like shadows.
Sitting alone in a compartment, Regulus stared out the window, his thoughts swirling. The door slid open quietly, and two boys entered. The first had sleek blond hair and bright, curious eyes that seemed to shine with an infectious energy. The second was taller, with dark hair and a calm, almost protective demeanor.
"You’re Regulus Black, aren’t you?" the blond boy asked, dropping into the seat beside him without hesitation. "I’m Barty Crouch Jr., and this here is Evan Rosier. We saw you at the station."
Regulus hesitated before replying, but there was something disarming in their casual confidence that put him at ease. "Yes, that’s me."
Evan gave him a kind smile, his tone steady and reassuring. "Good to meet someone our age. Don’t worry, Regulus. Hogwarts isn’t as scary as it seems—at least, that’s what they say."
Barty nodded enthusiastically. "And since we’re the same age, we’ve got each other. No matter what happens, we stick together. We’re like family here." He grinned, and his words carried a sincerity that warmed the air around them.
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When Regulus placed the Sorting Hat upon his head, he already knew what he must do. Though a small part of him longed for something different—yearned for freedom—he understood he could not defy expectations.
"Hmm… mysterious and intelligence… perhaps Ravenclaw?" murmured the Hat.
"No! Please. Slytherin. That’s where I need to be," Regulus whispered urgently.
The Hat fell silent for a moment before speaking again. "Ah, it is not about what you want, but what you feel you require. Very well. Slytherin shall be."
As Regulus descended from the stool, Sirius’s gaze from the Gryffindor table struck him like a spell. There was hurt and disappointment there, but nothing stung more than the look of betrayal. Regulus averted his eyes and made his way toward the Slytherin table, where Barty and Evan shifted to offer him a seat.
"Let’s be housemates! And who knows—maybe even throw a slumber party," Barty exclaimed with youthful exuberance, his words spilling out between hurried bites, as he chewed without decorum.
"You sound like a complete animal. Could you wait until you finish eating?" A dark-skinned girl with expressive, judging eyes fixed her gaze on him, exuding an air of authority. "My name is Dorcas. Should you ever need lessons in etiquette, I’m here."
Barty theatrically wrinkled his nose. "You’re so meddlesome, that’s what you are!" he retorted, his tone laced with exaggerated superiority—only to be interrupted by a firm elbow from Evan, who stood by his side.
"Thanks, Dorcas. He’s just overly excited," Evan responded with a gentle smile that seemed to ease the tension, though it couldn’t completely mask the disapproving grimace that still played on Dorcas’s face.
Regulus, seated quietly as an observer, felt something unexpected stir within him. Amid the gentle laughter and playful barbs swirling around, a warm glow began to spread through his chest—a sensation of belonging he had never known before. Perhaps, just perhaps, this was the beginning of something new.
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Later that night, as Regulus walked along the corridors, he encountered Sirius. His brother leaned against a wall, arms crossed, and a stern expression etched onto his face.
"So, that’s it. You’ve chosen their side," Sirius said, each word dripping with resentment.
"It’s not like that," Regulus began, striving to maintain his composure. "I needed to do this, Sirius. I had to survive."
Sirius scoffed bitterly. "Are you surviving, or are you bowing to them? Because from where I stand, you’re just another cog in their machine."
Stepping closer, Regulus wanted to say more, but the words felt too heavy in his throat. "You think it’s easy for me? I don’t have your courage, Sirius. I can’t simply ignore everything and walk away. If I did, they’d find you. And you know what happens next."
Sirius remained silent for a long moment before finally shaking his head. "They’ve already begun to destroy you, Reg. No matter what you say, you’re sinking into what they want."
Regulus stood rooted as Sirius drifted away, leaving the corridor steeped in silence. When Regulus returned to the Slytherin common room, Barty and Evan greeted him with concerned eyes.
"He's upset, isn’t he?" Barty asked, his tone void of judgment and filled only with worry.
Regulus nodded as he sat beside them. "He thinks I’ve chosen the side of our parents. But he’ll never understand."
Evan offered a warm smile, placing a reassuring hand on Regulus’s shoulder. "Maybe he won’t understand now, but you have us. No matter what happens, we’re with you."
Barty added, his smile gentle yet determined, "And we’ll show everyone that being Slytherin doesn’t mean being cruel. We can be strong and loyal—our way."
For the first time that night, as Regulus gazed at his new friends, a small spark of hope kindled within him. He was not entirely alone.
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