Chapter Text
Twenty-eight households, all alike in dignity (in modern-day London, where we lay our scene) are fighting against what they consider a common enemy: extinction. And while some of them consider it important to preserve the magical world itself, others are fighting to ensure that magicians do not spoil their aristocratic “pure” blood by marrying wizards without a centuries-old heritage. These are the last families we will narrate about.
Despite the fact that the scenery obviously depicts the twenty-first century, the heads of pureblood families are in no hurry to abandon their usual way of life. Still living in their family estates and arrogantly turning up their noses, they are proud of their titles, enter into dynastic marriages and send their children to Hogwarts so as not to break traditions. The children of these families, whether they are the Rosier twins, the Black brothers or the one-and-only Crouch Jr., from the first day hear only about their superiority over Mudbloods and Muggles, and in the speeches of their parents only contempt, misunderstanding or outright hatred. It is not surprising that children who receive such an upbringing grow into young men ready to unite under the leadership of an older student who promises the magicians to “regain the lost greatness and recognition that they rightfully deserve”.
Regulus Black is sickened by these speeches. No more centuries-old traditions will save one outside the narrow circle of twenty-eight pure-blooded magical families, most of which have nothing to boast of other than blood status. The only thing a well-known surname can do now is to hang the reputation of one’s entire family on their shoulders, which means society stops seeing one as a person and begin to see only the continuation of the family, as soon as someone finds out who one’s relatives are. When fourteen-year-old Regulus found himself in the ranks of the Death Eaters ( that’s how the fanatics of the new greatness of magicians began to call themselves) he did not experience delight and decided to sit out in the back rows of this theater of the absurd for as long as he could. And the company in these “back rows” turned out to be appropriate: golden-haired prince-like Evan Rosier and Barty Crouch Jr. disheveled like a sparrow.
All three of them planned to sit quietly until the Death Eaters quarrelled at the first trouble.
And how very wrong all three of them were.
As soon as the Death Eaters began to graduate from Hogwarts, one by one they began to find positions in the Ministry of Magic and other strategically advantageous places. As far as the trio knew, their comrades were mainly engaged in political work, but the longer time passed, the more it began to remind all three of them of subtle, but very successful propaganda. By his senior year, Regulus was surprised to find in the ranks of the Death Eaters not only pureblood offsprings, but also very talented ones who were usually called “mudblood”. And also his brother Sirius and his entire friend-group, although these were the ones who were highly prone to oppose the idea of “making magicians great again”. Regulus tiredly rubbed his face and wanted to return to his quiet, inconspicuous corner, but the leader of the Death Eaters had other plans for him. And Regulus began to need friends vitally.
By the age of nineteen, Regulus has two best friends who have gone underground: Evan Rosier, with his duelling skills, potion-making talent, and penchant for prophetic dreams; and Barty Crouch Jr., the fugitive son of the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, famous for his explosive, neurotic temper and the fact that he passed all twelve OWLs possible with “excellent” marks. By the age of nineteen, Regulus had enough of the Death Eaters’ missions under his belt to never sleep well again. By the age of nineteen, Regulus knows and can do enough to stop this madness, but he cannot do it alone.
Even the three of them cannot do it; this fortress must open from the inside.
So Regulus, following his two friends, disappears for some time from all radars of both the Death Eaters and the Aurors, who oppose them on behalf of the Ministry. But when there is a guerrilla war outside, and both sides are trying to find you, you won’t be able to even dream of any quiet life. But for his own choice to leave and hide, Regulus does not mind giving up peace and sound sleep. Just to live his life a little.
He packs his backpack and does not stop until the very outskirts of London.