Gryffindor's halloween party
Regulus was a child born from neglect and rage.
This resulted in him being terrified in becoming anything like those who created him. When they looked at him, he knew they saw versions of themselves. But, whenever he'd return a glance, he saw everything he hated.
This fear, often times, caused him great paranoia. He made conscious desicion to never walk like them, talk like them, be anything remotely close to them. Sometimes, he thinks the best thing to do with neglect and rage is to completely ignore it.
Entirely avoid it. Run away. Be a coward.
Other times, he liked to confront it. Prove that he is nothing like what conceived him. Although the potential to be so is there.. he simply refuses.
Walburga and Orion were so obsessed with having a heir that when they had Sirius they were naturally thrilled and proud. Then, they decided to have Regulus as a back up plan.
So, when Sirius turned out to be the exact opposite from their expectations, they felt betrayed and they grieved quite abnormally. Not because they lost a son, but because they lost a heir.
For once, Regulus knows what it feels like to have the weight of the expectations the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black on his shoulders, and the pressure is too much to handle. It was a new yet a familiar feeling, one he surely has felt before.
It's all too much that he unconsciously finds the Greek myth of Atlas relatable, a titan who is condemned to hold the sky for eternity as punishment.
He was a leader of the titans in their war—Titanomachy—against the Olympians. After the defeat of his side, he was to bear the heavens upon his shoulders, be guardian of the pillars which held the earth and sky asunder. Every movement dare he make and earthquakes start to form among, stars abruptly falling off the sky, creating what humans named; shooting stars.
If Regulus was like Atlas, then what was he being punished for?
He finally understood. He knew the second Sirius left Grimmauld Place that he was alone. That he was to be the new source of his parents anger. When he finally had enough, he decided to speak out, just to be punished.
“You are not to turn from us like he did, understand?”
That day was when Regulus realized that being named after a star wasn't enough for Atlas' sky to include him.
It was the 31st of October, when something remarkably unexpected happened that sent him over the edge.
“No. No, absolutely not.” Regulus declares loudly to himself, walking out of Potions and towards his friends—minus Barty—who were waiting for him. He had been the last to exit the class, seeming that Slughorn had requested of him. “I've literally never heard such bollocking. That—that old nutter has finally bloody lost his marbles, I'm telling you.”
“Regulus,” Pandora says, strained, “I adore you—I truly do, and you know this, and the whole castle knows this—but can you please drop that foul language? Thank you.”
Evan smirks, looking as smug as ever “Let him be, surely he has a reason.”
Regulus blinks, feeling taken aback. The girl snorts, “Really, Evan? And here I thought we were on the same side.”
“Sure, sure you did. If it wasn't for Barty—”
“Can you guys, like, not,” Regulus interrupts, making them both jolt and spring apart from where they'd orbited closer together in the midst of their bickering. “I really want to tell you what happened but I won't if you two keep bringing him up.”
“Why?” Pandora asks wearily.
“Because he's bloody frustrating,” Regulus insists, as he has apparently insisted multiple times by now. "Is he being a prick on purpose? Pardon me, actually, that seems to be his default lately. Being a prick.”
“Knowing Barty, yeah,” Evan confirms. “So does that mean you will you tell us what happened? I tried asking him yesterday in the dorm, minutes before you came, but he kept his mouth shut. This wanker.”
Regulus rolls his eyes and then proceeds to scoff. “If he keeps his mouth shut then, great, be my guest, so do I. Two can play the game.”
“Regulus—” Pandora starts.
He quickly spits, “No.”
She knows not to push him when he is unwilling, they both do. Evan sends a quick glance at her and she returns it. They mutually feel as if walking on eggshells around Regulus at moments like these. One wrong word or action and they will be either left alone for the rest of the day or hexed in no time.
“So, James Potter was right then. What did Slughorn want?” Pandora finally asks, breaking the silence.
Hearing James' name so suddenly, Regulus starts walking down the corridor and towards the Great Hall, making the other two rush to keep up. It's something he does a lot lately, shuffling away as fast as possible. “Sluggy wants me to start tutoring someone.”
Evan gapes. “Merlin's sake, I mean, I knew that you were good at Potions, but not that good,”
“Who's the lucky student, then?”
“No clue. He didn't tell me. Reckon he will?” Regulus shrugs, gaining a few dismissive sighs from the others.
“Honestly? Nah. Guess we'll have to wait and see.”
“Yeah.”
With that, they reach the Great Hall. Waving Pandora goodbye as she walks to the Ravenclaw table, they immediately flee to their house's assigned table, sitting down where they usually sit. The only difference is that Regulus ends up sitting opposite from Barty than beside him like he usually is, given the fight they've been having lately. They're just mutually growing to hate eachother. He is quite thankful no one brings it up nor comments about it, although he can't fail to ignore the piercing glances Barty offers him now and then.
He soon resorts in eating whatever appears on the plate in front of him, desperately in need of a distraction.
As if on queue, Dorcas—who happens to be sat next to him— nudges his arm, “We're going to the Gryffindor Halloween party tonight, right?”
“Hello to you too.”
“Whatever. We're going, right?”
“What about Slug Club?”
“Oh, not this year,” Dorcas complains. “Come on, it was bloody dull! We're meant to be having fun, yeah?”
“So, we're going, then?” Evan suggests with his mouth full, chewing loudly and almost choking. Barty snickers and offers him a glass of water, his presence now being acknowledged by the others.
“Brilliant,” Dorcas announces grandly. “Regulus, invite Crouch.”
“He's right in front of you—”
“Reg,”
He groans in defeat. Is this how his friends decided to attempt to cheer them up and get them talking to eachother again? As if it all will magically cure their disagreements and so they could move on.
And maybe he was selfish and egotistical. He was a professional when it came to holding grudges against someone, no doubt, his brother had helped him with that, after all. Maybe his friends were tired of the bickering and gloomy energy that radiated to all of them and wanted to get the group back together, because it was obvious miles away that they were, in fact, experiencing a fall out.
And so, he turns to look infront of him, doing his best efforts to ignore the boy's piercing gaze. “Fine. Bartholomew, you're coming.”
“Cheers, Reginald.”
This apparently is the longest conversation they are able to hold without gouging eachothers' eyeballs out, because they fall silent and look away. He can't help but notice Dorcas' dissapointing look. He turns his gaze elsewhere.
“If I dress up as Mulciber again, he will have my head,” Evan says, grimacing. “And, you lot, remember how he charmed my pillow to bite everytime I laid my head down.”
“Yeah and I wouldn't dare show up as Snape, once more. That little freak made sure it reached Slughorn's ears and demanded I get punished for—however he said it? Harassment?”
“You got detention every week,” Regulus says, amused. “That was a new record for you, wasn't it?”
She grins at him. “It is, yeah. Do you reckon they'll put me in some sort of history book?”
“For the worst Severus imitation? You'd like that, wouldn't you?”
“Oh, I'd love it. So would you, Reg, don't deny it. Imagine how proud your parents would be.”
“Ah, yes, my one and only life purpose, to dress up as a half-blood to make the noble and most ancient house of Black proud,” Regulus says sagely, lips twitching, and Evan wheezes so loud that he's pretty sure it reaches the Gryffindors, to the other side of the room.
He shifts his gaze over Barty's shoulder, towards the Gryffindor table from across the hall, eyes drifting immediately to his brother's obnoxious friendgroup.
He spots Sirius sitting next to that Lupin boy, the half-blood, who can't seem to look anywhere else than his brother's face. He notices the red-haired girl, Potter's girl, chatting loudly and giggling with two others, and a boy who's desperately trying to include himself in their conversations. He knows this one, the pureblood, Pettigrew.
And then he makes the grave mistake of letting his gaze linger on the boy with the tanned skin, messy long black hair that's sticking to every direction, defined jawline with trails of trimmed facial hair, nose curved like the Gods', and those stupid glasses with silver frames that oh so well go against his dark toned skin.
Their eyes suddenly lock and he allows panic to consume him, picking up his fork and stabbing a piece of perfectly boiled potato, abruptly raising it and bringing it towards his open mouth, only for it to fall back on his plate. How embarrassing.
He looks over his friends, relieved to find that no one paid enough attention to him to notice such embarrassing moment. He didn't want to give them reasons to tease him, and he knew Evan wouldn't let it go so easily.
But then he raises his eyes, meeting James' from the other side of the Hall, who is trying so hard to suppress his laughter. “I saw that” is what he mouths at him and Regulus feels his face heat up in an instant.
Suddenly Barty clears his throat, and with eyes full of suspicion, he makes Regulus yelp and jump on his seat.
“So, what are we dressing up as, then?”
Barty squints, shoving a potato in his mouth, “I've got mine and Rosier's covered, don't bother. Right, baby?”
Even if it's a pet name he uses on nearly everyone, Evan's face wears a mask of exasperation. Mildly flustered the way he is, he snorts and spills the pumpkin juice he was sipping from his nostrils. It makes Regulus want to empty the food he just consumed.
“And here I was, thinking that only me and Marlene would have matching outfits.” Dorcas notes, amused.
All heads rapidly turn to Regulus, seeing as he's the only one without a costume plan, which is obvious since he's never been to a Halloween party other than Slughorn's before, where you don't have to dress up at all.
“You are coming, right? We won't have to abduct you or force you to drink Sleeping Draught to dress you up?” Dorcas asks for confirmation, nudging his arm with her elbow once more.
“It's not like you leave me any other choice.” Regulus admits. “Also, I don't want to miss Evan making a sight out of himself. ”
From the other side of the table, Evan flips him off, extending his middle finger.
“Then, I hope you're good at Transfiguration spells, Black. Come on, eat up, we have a party to attend.”
Approximately five hours later, it's nearing midnight and most of everyone in the Gryffindor common room is either drunk, stoned or underage and sober. He suspects that the Gryffindors charmed the drinks so that no one under the age would be able to have them, resorting to drink not of the alcoholic variety. First through third years have gone to bed by now, followed by many fifth years, appreciating every bit of sleep they can get around studying for their OWLs.
Oh, how Regulus wished he was one of them.
No one really pays the invasion of four Slytherins and one Ravenclaw any mind, too wrapped up in their own things to care. The people that do notice see Regulus and have to do a double take, immediately confusing him over his brother. That or maybe the costume Dorcas chose for his sake was too embarrassing. Some are peering curiously at him, and some just go right back to what they were doing.
Regulus turns to Pandora, who was wearing her finest pastel pink gown, with little flowers embroider on its tulle. On her head, she wore a flower wreath made out of Peonies she grew herself, without using any magic. Her long silver-blond hair flattering gracefully amongst her every step. She truly was a sight for sore eyes. What she dressed up as, Regulus had no idea.
He takes in to his surroundings and then mutters to her, “Whatever happens, we have to make sure we don't do anything stupid.”
“And ridicule ourselves infront of a bunch of Gryffindors?” She attempts to joke, only to find Regulus glancing around for what seems to be the millionth time. He's not really the party type.
“There goes my self dignity with my costume..” he admits to himself quietly.
Interlocking their hands together, she gives his a light squeeze and he turns to look at her again,
“Don't say nonsense, Reg. Dorcas knows what she's doing, and she sure was right about your costume this year. Cat ears suit you.”
Regulus' cheeks turn slightly red as he nods shyly and with uncertainty, feeling quite thankful that Dorcas didn't make him transform a tail and paws to match his pitch black cat ears. Had she done that and he'd be almost identical with professor McGonagall's animagus form.
Dorcas, rather predictably, leads them all over to a group consisting of a pissed Potter, who seems to be dressed normally if one excluded the stag antlers that were attached to his head. He's jumping up and down on a table, a pathetic excuse of dancing, with Sirius next to him. His brother is in a pair of blue, high waist and tight bell pants with a white flannel that's tacked in. If mother was there, she'd disown him for a second time, he immediately thought, cheeks flaming up at the unproper sight.
On the squashy sofa next to the table—occupied by the two daft wankers— is sat Lupin boy and a figure covered by a white sheet with holes for eyes. He assumes that's Pettigrew, only by the way he fiddles with the cloth and looks around nervously. At least he's not the only one.
Lupin's face and scars are covered by a huge red lighting bolt, but other than that, he seems normal. By now, Regulus is too worn out to figure the two muggleborn girls' costumes, but from the looks of it, they're dressed as devil and angel.
Except McKinnon and his own underage friends, everyone else is clearly well on their way to being pissed, even Lupin—though Regulus doesn't know why he finds the statement surprising. The two girls obviously are. McDonald is hanging off of the ginger-haired girl, laughing loudly at something McKinnon has said, and the ginger has her eyes closed, swaying ever so gently to a song that doesn't really call for swaying.
“I can't make you that promise.”
“And I don't care.”
“I'm going to get us drink. Boys, behave.” Pandora declares softly, giving his hand a last reassuring squeeze, then stumbles off to do just that, apparently.
Barty and Evan exchange a look before following right behind her to, presumably, get drinks of their own. Regulus found Barty's idea of Halloween-party-costumes... infuriating, if not attractively so. Crouch had dressed himself up as a shark, the big blue costume leaving space only for his face so that he could see. It was funny.
Evan, on the other hand, made him feel drool drip over his mouth. Barty had dressed him up in a loose white button-up and ripped jeans, corset clinging tightly onto his waist, creating the illusion of a tall and slim boy. His right eye was covered by a black eye patch, and his left arm had a hook on it. His honey-blond hair was covered by a tricorn hat.
Evan Rosier was, no doubt, the most handsome pirate he had ever seen. If he and Barty weren't on this idiotic fight, then he'd get on his knees and worship him for his brilliant ideas.
Regulus doesn't dare move, staying close to Dorcas, and oh, this is going to be one big disaster of a fucking night.
“Ah, finally, I thought you'd ditch us!” Marlene announces when he catches sight of Dorcas.
That's when Regulus sees it. Trying his best to suppress a laugh, he eyes a beard-ed Marlene McKinnon, who was wearing a pair of bright red dress robes and was swaying a sword in the rhythm of the music.
“Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor? Merlin, both of you—” He wheezes, then chokes on his words as he gets mentally reminded to keep composed, appearing the way he should be appeared.
Dusting off her dark green dress robes and twisting the long white beard she had transfigured on herself an hour ago, she smirks. “We should burn in the pits of hell for this, right baby?”
“Oi, Godric.” McDonald bellows, finally taking a notice of them, raising her cup as she peels away from the ginger. “Brave lad, Gryffindor, brave lad you are! To Godric Gryffindor!”
“To Godric Gryffindor!” Dorcas, Marlene and Lily shout in agreement, raising their glasses as well. James, who hadn't stopped dancing from up the table since Regulus stepped in, does the same, which prompts other people around the room to join in the sentiment, even if they're not quite sure why they have to shout Gryffindor's name, but they're drunk enough to do it anyway.
Regulus wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
Music pours over the room, rattling their bones, someone has charmed butterflies to fly about above their heads, changing colors in a bright pop of light in the hues of several shades of red; associating with the house.
From the corner of his eye he spots Sirius swinging himself silly while a devastated Remus Lupin tries his best to get him to stop. His whole attention turns to them as his brother's voice reaches his ears.
“I wasn't raised by them, no. I was raised by a God, Moony. I was raised by David Bowie—there's a star mannn waiting in the sky—”
“A'right, my starman, get down from the table, yeah?”
He gulps and turns his attention elsewhere. He notices some of the portraits being empty, in no mood to participate in the festivities, but others are more than happy to dance and celebrate along with the students. The fire in the fireplace crackles and warms the room, casting everyone a glow.
“I only found Butterbeer, sorry,” He hears someone whisper in his ear, about thirty minutes later. He turns around to find Pandora holding up two cups, tension immediately dissolved; he feels relieved.
“Blimey. Thank Slytherin it's you, I thought... people keep confusing me for Sirius. At least four blokes and girls each tried hitting on me.”
She laughs, offering an apologetic smile when he glares her way. “Regulus, I don't think it's because they mistake you for your brother.”
He rolls his eyes, ready to bite back, when suddenly his attention is drawn by the messy-haired boy, once again. Everyone around him does the same, jaws dropped and faces painted with smirks.
He spots James holding his wand over his mouth, singing along the lyrics of the song that's echoing through the common room. Regulus is dumbstruck by the sight of him, looking careless and lovely the way he swings and clutches his chest.
Following James' line of eyesight, he comes across Lily Evans—the ginger seventh year muggleborn girl that her choice of costume represents her so, so, so much; an angel. Evans, for the first time, seems very interested. He wonders how long it'll be before they're snogging in a corner.
Regulus feels too much. All the sounds, all the lights... He feels like he's being overloaded and there's nothing he can do to stop it.
That's when he realizes he has free will; he doesn't want to stay long enough to see this.
“A real nutter, this one—Regulus?” Pandora whistles, her observation is quickly dismissed as she catches sight of a grumpy Regulus.
“I—uhm, I remembered—I have studying to do.” He spat desperately, hands twitching slightly.
“But it's not even past curfew yet—”
He doesn't give her time to whine anymore than that. Her protests are going to waste. He grabs what he hopes to be a bottle of firewhisky, wishing the underage charms that Prefects had produced to the drinks had faded by the time and began walking out of the tunnel, towards the portrait.
Finally, he reaches the exit and carefully steps outside. If there's one thing he's sure about, then that is where he's going to spend the rest of his night. With the bottle in one hand and his wand in the other, he walks down the stairs determined.
Like usual, the astronomy tower welcomes him with open arms.