Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Chapter Text
—The house of Black—
Morning dawned; the young boy as he lay flat on his forest-green silk mattress. It is the summer of nineteen seventy-seven. Regulus has just turned sixteen; two more years, and his studies will be finished, but it doesn't mean that he will finally be free, away from his parents' old pureblood traditions. He was to be married to his cousin, who was at least six years older than him, after his graduation. The thought made him uneasy. Regulus has finally decided to rise, as he hurries down the halls; every portrait of his estranged brother has been burned or shredded by their mother. Upon entering the living area, he noticed his mother enjoying— Walburga doesn't enjoy, rather, she is having her morning tea with a disdainful look on her face as she reads the morning tabloid; Walburga has set her tea aside, appearing somewhat displeased. She carefully folded the tabloid she had been reading and placed it next to her now-cold tea.
Quietly, Regulus retrieved a book and began reading books that were not meant to be accessible to anyone, yet here he is reading one of the darkest collections his family have as he tries to avoid any kind of conversation with his mother. It was his first summer without his brother, and surely his mother had a lot to say about it. Regulus discreetly glanced over his book, observing his mother's actions. It has been only five minutes since she has set aside the tea she had been drinking and the paper she had been reading. He watched as his mother retrieved her wand, rising to her feet and shattering the porcelain wedding anniversary gift; it seemed they did not value it. Both his parents were cousins and had been married off by their parents to keep the bloodline pure. He watched as his mother kept destroying everything she saw that was not valuable to her. Sparks of red shoot from her wand. She was now screaming, his father was nowhere to be seen, he is probably out with the one he so calls Lord , The only thing his parents have yet to agree on is the ideals they learned from their youth. As a Black having no power is useless, being dead is better than having no power and control over everything. Regulus didn't bother calming his mother; his father could handle her hysterics.
Finding his mother's emotional outbursts excessive, Regulus decided to leave and resume his reading in a more peaceful location. Just as he was nearing the doorframe, a shrill voice bellowed from behind him.
"And where do you think you're going?" Asked his mother, whose anger keeps rising up.
"About to go somewhere more quiet mother, could I not?" He tilts his head as he asks his mother.
Though it only provoked her anger even more. "NO!" Her loud screams echoed throughout the entire household. She started yet again firing the walls.
"You will wait here until your father comes back!" She gritted the words out.
Regulus stood in silence, quite frozen actually. He went back and sat down to where he was before, he didn't bother to say any word at all.
"KREACHER!" He called their house elf.
A popping sound was heard, and the elf apparated to where they are currently located.
"FIND YOUR BLASTED MASTER AND BRING HIM RIGHT HERE THIS INSTANT!" She commanded the elf, kicking him right there at his stomach, which made Regulus' face displeased.
Kreacher has bowed down to her, eager to fulfill his duties to the noble and most ancient house of Black. "Kreacher will for mistress."
With a snap of his finger the elf has disappeared going Merlin knows where.
It didn't take long before their house elf reappeared, this time he had been accompanied by his rather drunken father. It was before ten in the morning, yet he appears to have attended a celebratory event, judging by his inebriated state. He could barely stand, he was chuckling, all too giddy for someone who crucios the living daylight out of his own blood, his own son, he was far too happy for Regulus' liking. Walburga gave him a displeased look, scoffing at her husband's actions. She didn't say a word, not until her husband had finally settled down. Kreacher, at his mistress' request has brought his father a vial of sober-up potion so that he may act like how he is supposed to act. The fearsome father everyone knows him to be.
What a lovely family gathering. Regulus had thought.
He sunk lower on the chair he has been sitting on, he never wanted to be in their presenve ever again, but he has to, he can never do what Sirius has done. To leave the family means walking away from everything he had known. It didn't matter whether Sirius think he is a coward for not running away from this hell hole they called home. What Sirius has done gave him the burden of being the heir, the expectation Sirius has brought upon him became bigger as soon as he decided the Potters would be his new family.
Walburga kept pacing back and forth in their drawing room, distraught from whatever the Daily Prophet had published today. As for Orion a pained look was visible on his face, no doubt it's from the elvish wine he had been drinking all morning.
"Are you not going to say something dear husband of mine?" Walburga hissed at her husband who likely is having a bad case of headache.
Regulus watch his father try and grunt out a word out of his mouth. "I... Had a talk with Adélard Rosier."
Regulus sat up straight, trying to listen to the conversation more intently.
"Never mind what The Prophet says." He waved his hand out in a dismissing manner. "It has already been taken care of and I have laid out the contracts with Adélard already." He was far too pleased with whatever he had been scheming. Regulus didn't like where this was going.
"I have never been more appalled in my life." She scoffed.
"Dear... " His father tries to calm his mother.
"Perhaps you should speak with your brother, clearly it is his doing." He was now reading The Prophet that had his mother into hysterics.
" You should be the one speaking to him, are you or are you not the head of this household?" She hissed at Orion.
Clearly this is none of his concern, he doesn't see why his mother is in need of his presence. There are far more activities he rather do, maybe perhaps brewing as it takes it off his mind from a lot of things.
"Mother," there was a pause, interrupting his mother's rage. "Surely I am not needed wherever this conversation will lead." There is nothing more than Regulus' want to escape from this nightmare of a family discussion that they we're having.
"YOU are not going anywhere!" She snarled. "This matter involves you and I say that this in fact is a family matter! This pertains to what the future of our most Ancient and Noble House of Black may be, you should be concerned as you are the heir to the house of black." Walburga huffed.
"The heir ? Me?" Regulus scoffed at the idea; being the heir was Sirius's responsibility, not his. "That's Sirius' responsibility, never mine." He shook his head.
"It's yours now." Her words were as cold as ice
"Your brother has been dallying with a blood-traitor and no less he's been playing house with that filth of a half-breed. He is no Black, he is no son of mine." Her eyes had gone wider, eyes grew darker and every second her anger grew wider.
“And is that why you're fuming with anger? Because of Sirius?”
“No, it is not, however—” The silence was loud. Enough that it feels like they can hear his heart beating. “You are no longer betrothed to her, as of this morning her engagement to Lucius Malfoy has been announced in the daily prophet.”
His heart pounded so hard that he felt that it almost did a somersault. Regulus never felt happy, he never felt so free. Well, at least he had escaped the marriage with his cousin.
Regulus maintained a poker face, not wanting to rile his mother up. He looked over at his father, who seemed still far too pleased with whatever was going on with his mind.
“Care to share what has been on your mind dearest? You seem far too pleased ever since you have arrived.” Walburga smiled wryly, her icy tone never leaving.
“Well—” Orion started, the smile that was plastered on his face was still there. “It seems that the dark lord has taken knowledge of our support.” He proudly informed his wife—cousin.
A smirk has replaced the frown the Walburga has had on earlier.
Fuck. Regulus had an idea where this one would lead, he's just hoping that he is wrong.
“The dark lord has personally requested that we are to join within his ranks and cleanse our world with him as our ideologies do match with his.” He smiled.
Regulus felt sick.
“I also informed him that our son has been exceptional in his studies.He was pleased to hear that our boy had done well, but saddened by the news about his betrothal to your niece. Though he strongly suggested the daughter of Antoine Rosier. He said that with that pairing, our family would be stronger than ever. Think about it, dear; we will gain access to connections we currently lack.” Orion pitched.
Clearly, Regulus has no say with this matter. His opinions are nothing but useless words.
“And what have you said?” Her eyebrows quirk.
“Of course I have taken in the suggestion and said that I will discuss it further with Antoine Rosier.”
“Wonderful, it seems the marriage matter has been taken care of after all.”
Fucking delightful . He did not anticipate his father would prepare betrothal contracts so soon after his previous engagement ended.
“Great, it seems that my life has already been set, wonderful.” He spoke slowly and languidly.
“Of course, it is to ensure that you marry the right family and secure our bloodline.”
Regulus, feeling overwhelmed, sought a way to escape, wishing to avoid further contact with his parents.
“Before you go.” His father stopped him. “If the dark lord is pleased with you. You are to be marked before the end of summer.”
There was no escape .
“Do not.” He drawled out the words, “disappoint.” Regulus offered no response, maintaining direct eye contact.
He didn’t want this.
There’s no way out.
“Do you understand Regulus?” That wasn't a question; it's a requirement. It is necessary for him to fully understand.
“Yes, father.” His voice lacked inflection.
“You are dismissed. Go.”
Regulus promptly departed the drawing-room without further comment.
Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Notes:
A bit of an early update fo you guys,
I woke up and chose violence foe this chapter. Also I will try and do weekly updates.
Hope you all like this chapter
p.s I haven't slept at all yet but hey at least you guys get a new chapter and it's longer than the last one!
Oh and i kinda also wrote the first half of thia chapter while drunk (i was with friends and inspiration suddenly struck me) then i fell asleep and dreamt of one of the scenes
Song recommendation for this chapter is Atlantis by Seafret
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
-The betrothal and the mark-
Regulus was drowning, unable to breathe, and despite his attempts to swim upwards, he was being pulled down into what felt like an endless abyss. He tried to fight whatever was pulling him. It was strong. He couldn't give up. Regulus needed to escape.
Regulus awoke in a state of distress, perspiring. It was merely a dream, but it felt incredibly vivid. He was breathing heavily; the dream felt so real that it made it difficult for him to breathe while asleep in his bed. Sunlight beamed upon him as his eyes fluttered. He was still breathing heavily, to be frank. Several weeks have passed since he had an unpleasant conversation with his parents. If he could call him that, offering him on a silver platter like a prize.
He glanced to his left, where a calendar was hanging on the wall. The date had been noted. He realized it was today, the day he was to be marked. It was also the day his betrothal to his best friend's sister would be finalized. A cracking sound announced its presence; their family house-elf appeared at the foot of his bed.
“Master has told Kreacher that young master Regulus is needed in his study.” Kreacher has told him.
Reguls has not yet responded verbally, only with a groan of displeasure.
“What should Kreacher tells master?” The elf asked.
“Tell him that I will be there shortly.” He groaned as he slams his back on his bed.
The elf didn’t say a thing but bowed before disappearing with a sound of a crack.
Regulus had been dreading this day, and his schedule was quite full. He, his mother, and father were to have brunch with the Rosiers to finalize the betrothal contract. And after that, he is to be marked as he is to be presented to the dark lord. He proceeded to his father's study without attending to his appearance beforehand.
As he entered his study he noticed from the corner of his eyes the contract that his father had drawn upon. The stipulations were that he marry before his seventh year and that his wife produce an heir within five years of their marriage.
Great, even his sex life has already been drawn for him.
“Ah, you're here.” His father has acknowledge his presence
“You summoned me, father?” His eyebrows rise slightly.
“I have your betrothal contract ready for later.” He has informed him. “We’ll meet the Rosiers later in Diagon Alley for lunch. Mr. Evan Rosier,I anticipate his presence and expect your best conduct. I trust there will be no mischief from either of you.”
“Of course father.” He nodded, “if that’s all then I will be preparing for brunch.”
Regulus didn't waste any time; he made himself acceptable to the Rosiers so that their family name would remain respected.
When it was time for them to depart, he took some Floo powder and announced their destination as the Leaky Cauldron, their gateway to Diagon Alley.
He brushed the dust from his robes as he exits the Floo Network.
Shortly afterward, his parents arrived, followed by Rosier, whom he greeted warmly; his best friend and twin sister, Pandora, were also present.
Pandora offered him a warm smile, which he graciously returned, offering his arm for her to take. Diagon Alley was relatively quiet, although some curious witches were present. Regulus suspected one of them would likely sell this to the Daily Prophet. Who doesn’t like gossip? Surely the bumbling witches of the ton do.
The two families entered Rosa Lee Teabag, a shop his mother considered most appropriate for those of pure lineage to dine in too.
Regulus was relieved that his friend, Evan, and his family had also come, lessening any potential awkwardness between him and Pandora. Not that they had any awkwardness with each other, no, Pandora was one of his good friends, she is different, caring, understanding, smart, she was a Ravenclaw.
“Ah, young Mr. Black, so pleased to finally meet you. My Evan and Pandora here had sing you praises, I believe that you are all friends at school. Is that right?” Mrs. Rosier spoke eloquently.
“Please, Mrs. Rosier, Call me Regulus.” He insisted. “And yes, you are indeed correct. Evan, Pandora and I along with Barty, I assume you know of him, have been good friends at school.”
“My, what a charming young man you are, Regulus.” Mrs. Rosier commented.
“Well, now that pleasantries have been exchanged.” His father had started. “Let’s get to business shall we?” Antoine Rosier nodded, agreeing.
As they ordered through their meal courses, clauses for their betrothal contract were being discussed.
“Don’t you think that marrying them off by the end of their sixth year is too early?” Antoine said.
“Nonsense, the dark lord.” He whispered his name. “Is wanting our boy to join within his ranks and wish for young Regulus here to sire an heir. You don't want to disobey him now Antoine, do you?” He raised his eyebrows, his tone has a hint of threat in it.
Antoine merely nodded as he hummed in response. Regulus is to be married by the end of sixth year, the dark lord has personally requested this. He glanced at the Rosier twins, noting that Evan's jaw was tight and Pandora seemed to be shrinking in her seat. Naturally, the responsibility of producing an heir would weigh heavily on one's shoulders, and knowing Evan, he would strongly disapprove of the dark lord's plans, especially if it’s towards his sister.
“Is that all of what the dark lord has asked Orion?” Drawled Antoine.
Orion said nothing but took a sip from his champagne.
“I see,” Antoined had understood whatever his father had made.
Lunch had been quiet, it was too formal. It has never been this quiet with Evan and Pandora around, but of course it would be like this. After all this is some sort of formality for purebloods bethroting their children, but this—this is far too public. They want to show that the Blacks will be more powerful as they tie themselves with the Rosiers.
Regulus didn’t think that he’ll be able to go through all this, let alone keep his lunch in his stomach.
“It was lovely to meet you Regulus, I’m sure that you’ll be a wonderful husband to our Pandora.” Mrs. Rosier smiled as he cupped Regulus’ cheek, she was sweet unlike his mother.
“See you on the first of September mate.” Evan patted his shoulder before walking beside his mother. He glanced a look at Pandora and gave her a smile. Well, it was more of an ‘I’m sorry you have to go through this bullshit’ kind of smile. Regulus is lucky enough that it was Pandora, they understand each other in some sort of way.
The Rosiers had disappeared in a blink of an eye, they had apparated, of course.
Regulus, obediently followed his parents and he complied with everything that his father had ordered him to do. Every order had been barked at him.
“Why are you not dressed?” Orion drawled out the words. “The dark lord wouldn’t be pleased if we were late!”
“I don’t want this father, I—” he was interrupted, his father didn’t even let him finish his sentence.
“I will hear none of it Regulus, the dark lord has chosen you and you shall comply!” Orion spatted all of his words out, displeased with Regulus for just being late.
“Get dressed, I shall see you by the floo in five minutes, no later than that.” With a slam of the door Regulus was left alone inside his bed chambers.
Of course he followed his others, he wasn’t given the freedom to choose on his own. He wore a black suit, quite appropriate for the occasion, it felt like attending his own funeral. Well, that's a possibility he might consider if it offers a way out.
He took a handful of floo powder on his hand and called out Nott Manor, it is where the headquarters of the dark lord.
“My lord,” With a bow, Orion offered a greeting, whimpering to the person he addressed as his lord.
Regulus stifled a scoff. He had never seen Orion… Scared? Was that it? Orion is scared of the person he so calls lord.
“M-may I present to you my heir.” He bowed. His father tilted his head, eyeing on him to do the same. And he did as he’s supposed to.
“Ah, young Regulus.” he hissed at the last letter of his name.
He raised his head, as soon as he saw the face of the dark lord he began to occlude. This man— snake. No, he doesn’t even look human at all.
“M-my lord?” Regulus wasn’t even sure what he should call him.
A cackle, the dark lord was cackling with how he responded.
“Your father told me what a remarkable person you are.” A smile was creeping up on his face. It was disgusting.
“I’m flattered by my lord, but I must say that I still have plenty of things to learn about.” He kept it humble.
“Do you think you will be a great asset to me?” He asked.
“I— what’s mine is yours my lord.” Regulus kept his head down.
“You amuse me young Black, I can see that you’ll be in good use within our ranks.”
Regulus can feel how proud Orion is right now. But this? This is the end for him. Nothing will be the same after whatever happens here.
“Give me your arm.” He instructed.
Regulus didn’t have a choice.
No, he did have a choice but what will his consequence be? Will it be death? At least his suffering will come to an end.
But he was a coward, he did what his parents wanted him to do, he reached out his hand and the dark lord had casted some sort of spell on it.
Regulus screamed, the pain was excruciating, the room echoed only his screams as he branded him.
Regulus hoped someone might intervene, rescue him, and offer him protection from these terrible monsters, but it was merely a wishful thought, a rather improbable one.
He must have passed out. Regulus had woken up inside his quarters. He moved his left arm and winced at the pain. It wasn’t a dream, he was now forever branded. Regulus crawled over to the side of his bed, grabbing his cypress wand. With one quick swish from it, he had casted a strong silencing charm. His left arm twitched from the pain, he shakily rolled up his sleeves slowly. He stared at the mark. He dug his nails onto it. He appeared to be screaming silently, as if his vocal cords had been removed.
“FUCK!” He screamed. A sob came after his agonizing scream.
“I‐ fuck this shit!” He sobbed out his pain.
“H-he’ll never look at me the s-same.” He cried to himself.
“He’ll n-never fucking forgive me, he’ll loathe me until I die.” He wept, his tears flowed endlessly, and he was unable to stop them.
“FUCK!” He yelled, this time in anger.
The stack of books from the corner of his room burned; Regulus couldn't care less if this very house burned.
It’s just him, not even his friends could sympathise with what he had been through. Regulus is all alone with this.
He thought of his brother, what would Sirius even say when he finds out? Or Ja— Potter?
Fuck.
Fuck
Fuck
He had forgotten all about his boyfriend with everything that had happened. Eventually he needed to end things with him as soon as term started. His engagement with Pandora will soon make it in the papers and he doesn't want him to discover it through the prophet. He would need to find a way to speak to him and end things as painless as possible. He would have to occlude so that he wouldn't break.
From his bedside, he reached over to the drawer of his nightstand and carefully pulled out a photograph. It was a cherished memory from the previous year—one that never failed to stir a whirlwind of emotions within him. The image captured a moment between him and James, frozen in time. James had draped his arm casually over his shoulder, exuding warmth and familiarity. Just as the camera clicked, James had leaned in, pressing a gentle yet unexpected kiss against his cheek. A deep flush had instantly spread across his face, betraying his surprise and the flurry of emotions that surged within him at that very moment. Even now, as he gazed at the picture, he could almost feel the heat rising to his cheeks once more.
A fleeting smile touched his face at the recollection, but it vanished quickly. Regulus inhaled deeply before softly whispering an incantation. “Incendio.” He quivered at the word.
He watched in silence as the edges of the photograph curled inward, blackening under the relentless hunger of the flames. The image, once so vivid—James' easy smile, the warmth in his eyes, the way his arm had rested so effortlessly over his shoulder—was now being consumed, devoured by fire until only charred remnants remained.
His fingers trembled at his sides, clenched into fists as the heat of the fire licked at his skin, but he made no move to stop it. He had thought that destroying the picture would make it easier, that if he erased the physical proof of that moment, maybe—just maybe—he could do it without breaking apart.
The past was not so easily burned away. The ghosts of what once was, of what could have been, still clung to him like a haunting melody, whispering in the spaces between heartbeats. Even now, as the last embers faded into nothingness, he could still feel the ghost of James’ touch, the phantom warmth of lips against his cheek, and the weight of everything they had lost pressing down on his chest, suffocating him.
He swallowed hard, his throat tight, his breath uneven. The room was silent now—too silent. The photograph was gone, but the pain remained, heavier than ever.
He needs to let him go.
Notes:
Was that a forshadowing of events? 👀
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Chapter 3: Chapter 3
Notes:
Hello! Another suprise update for you all!
I try not to make the chapters far too long so that updates will be faster.[Note: This has not been BETA READ]
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tiktok: ellemille
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
CHAPTER 3
– The Hogwarts Express –
It had been an unbearably long and grueling month. Regulus remained cloistered in his room, only emerging when his father’s demands left him no choice but to attend those wretched meetings. The horrors of Nott Manor clung to him like a second skin, sinking into his very bones. Each time he returned home, the weight of it all made him sick—physically, utterly sick. Kreacher was the only one who tended to him, offering pepper-up potions to force strength back into his limbs and dreamless sleep to keep the nightmares at bay. But no potion could truly erase what he had seen. More than once, Regulus had considered obliviating himself—erasing it all, if only to free himself from their suffocating grasp.
The Dark Lord had bestowed upon him his first task. It was simple—deceptively so. There was no bloodshed, no torture, nothing that would stain his hands just yet. His duty was to seek out and secure loyalty, to gather as many devoted followers as he could. And once they left the halls of Hogwarts behind, they would be marked, bound to the cause in a way that left no room for escape.
He could do it. He had to do it.
Regulus had arrived at the platform, and from the corner of his eye he spotted a familiar messy dark-haired wizard. His— or at least he was his.
He wasn’t alone. The wizard in question was accompanied by his brother, both laughing at something. The mark stung on his left arm. It’s a perfect reminder of his brother’s hatred— was he being too mean? Ridiculous? He pondered the possibility of Sirius resenting his decision to stay.
He handed his luggage to the train conductor before proceeding to find Barty and Evan. The train corridor was congested, with an excessive number of individuals standing and engaging in conversation. As he advances, he inadvertently collides with a certain individual.
Regulus froze, his body stiffening as his eyes met the other’s, an unspoken tension settling between them.
“You're avoiding me.” Potter stated, obstructing his path. Regulus didn’t reply, he’s looking for a way to get past him.
“Why haven't you answered my letters? I owled you about a hundred times this summer!” Potter fixed his gaze on him, patiently awaiting an answer.
He observed as Potter tilted his head towards a compartment filled with first-year students and gestured for them to exit, which they did. Potter didn't take too long before he decided to pull Regulus towards the now empty compartment. With a flick of his wand he muttered privacy charm as well as a muffliato before facing Regulus again.
“Care to explain Reg?” He had his arm folded onto his chest, waiting for a response.
“There's nothing to explain.” He coldly said.
“That's bollocks! I know you want to say something! Just go ahead and say it!”
Regulus hesitated for a moment, though he knew this is the only way he can protect him. Besides, he is expected to be married by the end of the school year, anyway. “I believe it is best for us to bring this to an end and part ways in our relationship.”
“I– I don't understand?” James furrowed his brows, confusion flickering in his eyes.
“I am to be married, James, we can't be together anymore.” His face remains emotionless as he looks into James’ eyes. Pain had struck on James’ face when he said these five words in an icy tone. “I don't love you anymore.”
It was a lie—most of it, anyway—but the part about the marriage? That was the only truth buried in the mess of deception.
“You don't mean that.” He was shocked, tears threatened to pool down his face but James managed to suppress it. “Reg, don’t go.” He begged.
“Petrificus Totalus” He modified the hex to have a duration of approximately five minutes before he unfreezes and comes back to normal. It was honestly a dick move, but it was the only way he could walk away from him without breaking.
It was easier this way—better, even—for James to let his anger fester, to let resentment wrap around Regulus like chains, holding him at a distance. Hate was simple. Hate meant James didn’t have to worry, didn’t have to care. Because caring—truly caring—meant acknowledging that Regulus was already slipping through his fingers, that no matter how tightly he held on, he was bound to be left with nothing but ghosts.
I love you. He whispered in his mind
Three words. Just three simple words—left unspoken, left unheard. And now, he’ll never get the chance to say them to him again. Not in this lifetime. Not in any lifetime.
“We are done.” Regulus cast one last glance back at James, who remained motionless, before leaving the compartment.
He made his way down the extended corridor of the train and eventually located Barty and Evan snogging in their compartment. He plopped down across from them and wasn’t shocked they didn’t notice him walk into the compartment. They seem to be so absorbed in their own fantasies that they fail to notice anything else, let alone Regulus enter.
He retrieved a book from his bag to occupy himself during the lengthy train journey. After a few moments, the sounds of snogging cpame to an end, and Regulus raised his head as Evan began to speak to him. “Have you been with us the entire time while we were snogging?”
Regulus merely shrugged, offering them neither a yes nor a no.
“What's wrong with you?” Barty asked as he adjusted his button-up shirt.
“Nothing, pay no attention to me.” He murmured.
Barty dismissed the response and expressed his disdain towards it. “Clearly, it's not nothing.” He scoffed. “It’s like there are some sort of wanksprouts all over you or something; I can’t remember what Pands call those things.” He huffed and slung his arm over Evan's shoulder.
“Hang on, are those even real? The wanksputs or is your sister just insane? Looney if you coul— ow! Salazar’s arse.” Barty rambled on, as Evan and went to nudge him.
“Oi, shut it.” Evan gave a stern look at Barty.
Evan looked at Regulus. Make this make sense
Evan clearly understands the events that have transpired. He was present the day his best mate became betrothed to his sister, and the day the dark lord had extended an invite for rhim to join his ranks.
“You ended things with him, didn't you?” It was Evan who had asked.
Regulus nodded in agreement, confirming Evan's question.
“No.” He gasped, Barty's face displayed a look of surprise. “But you were both supposed to spawn cute arrogant nonchalant babies.” Barty teased.
Evan delivered a forceful nudge to Barty’s abdomen, causing him to wince slightly.
“Fucking hell babe,” Barty whined to Evan as he rubbed his abdomen, soothing his pain.
“The d-dark l-lord has chosen me to—” He grimaced. “Recruit slytherins to join the cause.”
“Are you mad!” It was Barty who raised his voice as he half-stood from his seat, but was stopped by Evan.
“My father has told me he's a madman, why on earth will you bow to him?” Mixed emotions traveled through Barty.
Barty's father held a position of power and was well-respected by his colleagues. He currently leads the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
“I don’t have much of a choice do I?” He yelled at Barty.
“Mate, calm down.” Evan was doing his utmost to soothe them both. Evan sighed gently, rubbing Barty's back in a soothing circular motion.
“His parents—” Evan stopped to look at him. It was not his place to tell his story, after all.
Regulus subtly nodded, signifying that Evan could inform Barty of what had happened.
“His parents, they practically serve him on a silver platter to the dark lord.” Evan sighed heavily, as if burdened by a weight.
“No.” Barty was in disbelief, though he knew he shouldn’t be. After all, Regulus' parents were staunch blood supremacists, firmly believing in the superiority of pureblood wizards. They viewed Muggle-borns—whom they derisively called ‘Mudbloods’—as little more than leeches, tainting the purity of ancient bloodlines. To them, the growing number of Muggle-borns was not a natural occurrence, but an alarming threat, a sign that their world was being corrupted by those who had no right to wield magic.
They clung to the belief that Muggles had somehow discovered a way to steal their magic, taking what had never belonged to them. The idea that a child born to non-magical parents could possess the same power as a pureblood was unthinkable. It was easier for them to believe that muggles had stolen the magic.
“Is this the reason as well as to why you’re engaged to Pands?” It was Evan who answered with a nod, while Regulus had stared outside the train window.
“Fuckin’ hell.” Barty muttered under his breath. “We’ll help you.”
It wasn't a question where he asked if they could help; it was more of a demand that Regulus can’t say no to.
“Barty, mate.” Regulus tried to protest, but it was two against one.
“It's two against one, mate. You won't be alone in this. I know that we aren't marked, but we won't let you suffer alone, alright.” Evan said, reaching out to pat his shoulders.
“But—”
“We’re not really taking a no for an answer here, mate.”
“Fine, have it your way.” Regulus slumped further to his seat, giving in to Barty and Evan who snickered at one another in triumph.
“Oh, by the way, I’ve gotten twelve outstanding O.W.Ls.” A subtle smile played on Barty's lips.
“You’re shitting.” Evan rolled his eyes. Barty handed him a piece of parchment; it was the result of the O.W.Ls they had taken last year.
“How in Salazar’s name did you even manage that?” Regulus snatched the piece of parchment from Evan.
“What can I say boys, I’m just too smart for this school.” He relaxed on his seat.
While Evan tries to interrogate Barty, his voice sharp with suspicion, Regulus remains silent, his gaze fixed on the scenery beyond the window. The world outside felt distant, almost serene, a stark contrast to the tension simmering in the room. Yet, no matter how much he wished to lose himself in the quiet stillness of the view, his mind refused to grant him peace.
He had a task to accomplish—one he never asked for, yet one he could not refuse. Recruiting his classmates to serve a cause he resented felt like shackles tightening around his wrists, each passing moment drawing him deeper into a fate he loathed. How could he persuade others to swear loyalty to something that left a bitter taste in his mouth? And more importantly, how could he do it without losing himself in the process?
His fingers curled slightly at his sides, the weight of expectation pressing down on him. He needed a plan—something clever, something subtle. But with each passing second, the walls seemed to close in, and the path ahead remained as uncertain as ever.
He might’ve earned the title as the Slytherin prince, though he barely indulges in a conversation outside his circle. How could he possibly persuade them to join?
Surely he can just waltz in and say. ‘Hello, how are you this fine morning? Are you perhaps interested in joining the cause of our dark lord? Surely you know his name, as everyone is starting to fear him.’
He would sound mad—perhaps completely unhinged—but that was a small price to pay. Better to be seen as a raving lunatic and locked away in Azkaban than to carry out the twisted orders of their wretched, noseless master. It’s Better to be in chains of iron than the invisible ones that bound the others, forcing them to obey without question. Well, not entirely invisible. The mark was there, etched into his skin—a skull with a serpent slithering from its mouth, a constant, inescapable reminder of the chains he wore. It burned like a brand, not just on his arm but in his very being, a silent testament to the choices he never truly made.
Notes:
Next update will probably this weekend!
Chapter 4: Chapter 4
Notes:
Happy weekend everyone, here's chapter 4 as promised, I'll fix the layout of the chapter later on.
Chapter Text
-The Daily Prophet-
The Black Heir, Wizarding World’s Most Eligible Bachelor?
By Yazan Ryder
Whispers echo through the hallowed halls of pure-blood society, and this writer has it on good authority that the next heir to the esteemed House of Black has been named. And no, dear readers, it is not the rebellious, ever-infamous Sirius Black. Instead, the coveted title falls to none other than his younger brother— Regulus Arcturus Black , a mere sixth-year student at Hogwarts.
Was this a long-planned move, or a desperate bid to erase a certain disgraced son from the family tree? (See page 6 on Purebloods who had been disinherited.) One thing is certain: The Black name will remain as dark and enigmatic as ever. Stay tuned, darlings—this tale is far from over.
The Black family has once again given high society something to murmur about over their goblets of elf-made wine. Insider whispers confirm that Regulus Arcturus Black—yes, that Regulus—has officially reclaimed his status as one of pure-blood society’s most eligible bachelors.
Curious why? Well, if you haven’t been keeping up (shocking, really), his engagement to dear cousin Narcissa Black was rather abruptly called off in July. As for the reason? That remains a well-guarded secret. Some claim it was a mutual decision, while others insist it had everything to do with Narcissa’s increasingly close ties to a certain Malfoy heir.
It had barely been a week since his return to Hogwarts, yet every meal, free period, and Quidditch practice had turned into a spectacle. Girls from every pureblood family flocked to him, eager and relentless, their presence a constant, cloying nuisance. It was exhausting—tiresome beyond belief. But if the attention grated on him, Barty and Evan, have found endless amusement in his predicament.
Of course, he had The Daily Prophet to thank for this mess. The paper had seen fit to declare him the most eligible bachelor in all of wizarding Britain, ensuring that every pureblood daughter with a marriage-minded family was now throwing themselves at his feet. It was insufferable. Random witches throwing themselves at him.
“Ah if it’s the most eligible bachelor of wizarding Britain!” Evan teased as Regulus dropped into his seat at the Slytherin table for breakfast, looking thoroughly unimpressed.
“Tch, you no I am not really up for grabs by anyone , Rosier. Might you forget, I’m actually betrothed to your sister.” Regulus let out a quiet huff, irritation clear on his face as he reached for the teapot. "If I ever get my hands on the idiot who wrote that article, they'll regret it," he muttered, pouring his tea with practiced precision, as if the simple act could somehow restore the peace that had been stolen from him.
It was peaceful—far too peaceful for his liking—until a random Ravenclaw, who looked like a seventh-year, tapped his shoulder.
Regulus eyed the ravenclaw girl, waiting for her to speak.
“My father has written to your father about betrothal contracts.” Regulus ignored her, resuming back to his breakfast.
Though he ignored the girl, she still went on. “I think it’s best for us to get to know one another, you know? I’m sure your father will gladly accept it as my family is sacred twenty-eight .”
Regulus couldn’t care less.
“Scram.” His tone was mono, his eyes were fixed on his breakfast not caring for the Ravenclaw’s presence.
“Have you not heard of what I just said?” Asked the girl.
“I heard you, and I am not interested therefore leave. Otherwise I’ll hex your hair to fallout.” He threatened and sooner after his threat the girl quickly fled, away from him.
“At this point,” Regulus couldn’t make out what Barty was saying as he was stuffing his mouth with bits of everything. “You’ll drive the entire female purebloods away with that attitude of yours.”
“Then let them. Least I’ll have peace and quiet.”
The familiar rustle of wings filled the Great Hall as the morning owl post arrived, a flurry of feathers and parchment descending upon the students. Dozens of owls swooped down from the enchanted ceiling, their sharp talons releasing letters and parcels with practiced ease. Regulus barely spared them a glance—until he noticed an alarming number of them heading straight for him. One after another, owls landed near his plate, dropping scented envelopes, elaborately sealed letters, and even a few small packages. It was obviously gifts from witches who had no interest in him except for the title of Lady Black and the vault that comes along with it.
He sighed, setting down his teacup with an air of practiced indifference. "Brilliant," he muttered under his breath, watching as the pile of unsolicited correspondence grew before him. "Just what I needed."
“Looks like fame has come upon you, mate.” Evan smirked.
Regulus stared blankly at the growing pile of letters and gifts before him, his expression unreadable. The scent of expensive perfume and enchanted parchment clung to the air, sickly sweet and suffocating. With a quiet sigh, he drew his wand, barely lifting his wrist as he muttered, "Incendio."
Flames erupted at once, consuming the heap in a bright, crackling blaze. The scented parchment curled and blackened, wax seals melting into nothing as the letters turned to ash before his eyes. He watched impassively, expression never wavering, as the last remnants crumbled into a pile of soot.
Across the table, Evan let o ut a low whistle. "Dramatic," he remarked, sounding far too entertained. “Though it looks like your problem has been solved, I guess.” Evan shrugged, handing over today's Daily Prophet.
By Yazan Ryder
It has come to this writer’s most delighted attention that none other than Regulus Black, heir to the esteemed and noble House of Black, is now officially engaged! And his betrothed? The lovely Pandora Rosier, a name just as illustrious in pureblood circles. Sources whisper that the two have been friends since childhood—could this be a love story years in the making?
But wait, dear readers, the most scandalous detail of all comes from none other than Mr. Antoine Rosier himself, who was positively beaming as he shared the news exclusively with The Daily Prophet! The wedding, he revealed, is set for the second week of July next year. The date is set, the families are pleased, and now only one question remains: Could we be expecting a new Black heir before the end of their Hogwarts years?
And if you think this is all mere speculation, think again! A most reliable witness has come forward, claiming to have personally seen the Black and Rosier families dining together at Rosa Lee’s Tea Shop. But here’s the juicy part—Regulus and Pandora were said to be especially close, their touches lingering just a bit too long, their glances filled with something unmistakable. I daresay, dear readers, if this isn’t love, then what is?
Regulus’s gaze swept over the crowded table, searching—needing—to see him. And then, there he was.
The wizard sat among his peers, posture tense, his fingers gripping the Daily Prophet like it had personally wronged him. Regulus watched as his expression darkened, his jaw clenching, the creases between his brows deepening. Then, with a sudden, sharp motion, he crumpled the paper in his fists, as if trying to erase the very words printed on it, then setting it on fire.
“You two are alike.” Bart snorted. “A match made in heaven as muggles say it, but unfortunately it’s not what fate wants.” He shrugged.
Regulus didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Instead, he just looked at him—at the wizard that wears scarlet red, who had once been his, the wizard he had once belonged to. But no, not anymore. Not ever again.
He stared, his mind spinning with ghosts of a future that would never be. What would they have been like if he had been given a choice? If the world wasn’t carved into lines he could never cross? Would they still be together—truly together? Would they have grown old side by side, their lives entwined, their children carrying echoes of their love?
A bitter laugh slipped past Regulus’s lips, quiet and hollow. What a foolish, impossible dream. Love like theirs had no place in the world they lived in. Reality was cruel, and he had never been given the luxury of choosing anything.
His mark burned on his left hand, a reminder of the dark lord seeking for progress with his recruitment. It was barely more than a week, let alone he hasn’t come up with any sort of plan of how he’ll pitch it to the others.
Of course, Barty and Evan had come up with the most outrageous plan yet—kidnapping them, dragging them into a nearby broom cupboard, and forcing them to take the Mark.
Regulus almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. Almost.
Because, as ridiculous as it sounded, if they didn’t come up with something better soon…
This might actually have to do. Not that Regulus liked the idea, but with the amount of pressure he is in and the amount of school work he has, there is no way he could fit his dark duties in between classes, homeworks, and practices. Let alone there’s still the slug club he has to attend, not that it’s important.
Though, as absurd as Barty and Evan’s idea was, it did spark something in him—a far better plan.
The members of the Slug Club weren’t just any students. They were heirs to some of the most powerful, well-connected wizarding families in Britain. Their names carried weight, their influence stretched far beyond Hogwarts, and—most importantly—many of their family ideals were already aligned with the Dark Lord’s vision.
Hell, some of their parents were likely already seated within his inner circle.
If he played this right, he wouldn’t need force. He could make them want to join.
It was a sound plan, Regulus could only hope that he won’t fuck it up.
Regulus began to observe his fellow Slytherins with renewed purpose, his sharp eyes scanning the faces around him. It didn’t take long for his gaze to settle on the Carrow twins—a year younger than him, yet already notorious for their cruelty. They reveled in tormenting younger students, their wands quick to cast hexes just for the thrill of it.
Convincing them to join the Dark Lord’s cause? That would be almost too easy.
They already enjoyed power, and already took pleasure in watching others cower before them. All they needed was the right push—the promise that under the Dark Lord, they could wield their magic without restraint, without consequence.
Regulus smirked to himself. Some pieces were already falling into place.
lord_niggle on Chapter 1 Sun 02 Mar 2025 03:02AM UTC
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ellemille on Chapter 1 Wed 05 Mar 2025 09:44PM UTC
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lord_niggle on Chapter 3 Sat 08 Mar 2025 02:28AM UTC
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