‘Why was I the one to bear the family legacy?’
The question had always been an ever present thought in my mind. Swirling around and infecting everything it came into contact with. Everything I did revolved around my need to live up to the reputation. Every interaction I made. Every grade I received. But as the youngest son, why did it fall down to me?
I had an older brother, so why wasn't he the one to shoulder the burden. As the eldest child it would be his right as heir. I mean sure, he acted out a bit and got in with the wrong sort of people. But it shouldn't matter. It doesn't mean the burden should immediately fall to me when he steps out of line.
He looks happier at school. Laughing with his friends about the prank he just played. Or clowning around in charms class. Letters are constantly sent home for his behaviour But he knows the price at home for disgracing the most ancient and noble house of Black.
I remember all the night where he would be on the floor in agony while mother stood above him, screaming incantations. The broken sobs that echoed through the empty house. My constant pleas to stop. The hours after that I would spend tending to his wounds and dragging him up the stairs to his room. Muttering to myself that he would be okay.
I never thought I’d have to hear words I dread hearing.
“I’m leaving Reggie. I’m sorry.” Sirius said to me one night. “I can't stay in this house any longer. Every night I’m told, “I am worthless.” and beaten down because of it. I can't let you have to watch that. I can’t let Them win. If I break and keep my head down, then that is their success. I-I just can’t do it anymore.”
That was all it took for my whole world to come crashing down.
The night Sirius left became the night when I was put into the limelight of Black heir. My Ravenclaw friends were no longer acceptable to be seen with. Suddenly my As and Es were no longer accepted in my work. Everything had to be Os. And when they weren’t, I suffered the same abuse I helped my brother from every year previous.
Though there was one difference that I noticed between the torment. Never did Mother resort to physical abuse. Sure I got degraded and tormented. Locked for days in my room. But Mother never allowed her perfect little heir to have any marks. I had to be in pristine condition for every social gathering we attended.
Speaking of parties.
I spent weeks on end being taught the proper etiquette that I was expected to use whilst sitting in the corner and being introduced to people I hate. Watching my family make connections and look for possible wives to spring me off on.
Then I was introduced to the Dark lord. That was where I spent the worst hours of my life. Most of the time I was able to stay out of his wrath. Become the grey man in the army. And that's where I found all the information I needed to know that I did not want to be under the rule of this man. I needed a plan.
One of the things he constantly talked about was a locket that he owned and how it was “special” to him. Now, being brought up in the Black house did have one advantage. And that was that I am very good at getting information out of people.
I learned from a couple of his inner circle, that he was genius enough to take a part of his soul and cram it into his locket. Now if something like that were to be destroyed, let’s just say that it would be very detrimental to his health.
Here you find me now. Standing atop the cliffs of the seaside cliff. Watching the waves pound down onto the rocks. Felling the seconds tick past. Keeping the steady flow of time running. Every second I waste looking back is another second he can use to track me down.
Turning to Kreacher, I gesture for him to lead the way into the cave. If I’m going to be a Black, I might as well make the name something to remember. Something worth knowing. Regulus Arcturus Black would be someone worth knowing.