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Regulus Black felt as if he was living in a soul sucking shadow. Sitting at the end of the Slytherin table with a good three feet between him and the next person, Regulus felt the weight of being the new heir of the Most Ancient and Nobel House of Black sitting on his shoulders.
It was horrible.
No wonder Sirius had run away.
Regulus was bitter, even after having a good two months to get used to it. Sirius left him alone in that horrible house with their crazy mother. Mother had always been…harsh. She was worst now that she’d blasted Sirius off the family tree. She had driven Father away as well. He would vanish for days at a time, leaving Regulus alone with Mother.
Mother expected things of Regulus now to uphold the family honor to the extreme, since Sirius had so abysmally failed. Mother wished things out of Regulus, things Regulus wasn’t sure about. Regulus would never admit it out loud, but his mindset was similar to Sirius’ mindset. He rather liked a few Muggleborns in a few of his classes. After watching his fellow first years carefully, he failed to see the difference in magical ability between a puerblood and a Muggleborn. He was forced to draw the conclusion the philosophy that his blood effected his magic was a load of crap. The more he watched in the following years, he began to think the purebloods were at a slight disadvantage. The line of insanity and paranoia in the Black family was proof they needed to do something other than to marry another pureblood distant cousin.
Their blood was poisoning them.
Genetics was something Walburga Black didn’t prescribe to, as it was a Muggle science. Regulus thought it was rather fascinating and studied it in secret. It was why he had settled on the fact Andromeda was a genius for marrying a Muggleborn. For the first time in three generations, they had a Metamorphmagus in the family. It was a magical trait Blacks had been known for, but they’d bread out of themselves. It had become a recessive gene, one that needed some new material to reappear.
It needed some new blood. That that wasn’t genetically similar to, related to it.
Regulus was a rebel in secret. He kept his thoughts within the confines of his mind. In public, he would never be brave enough to stand up to his mother and go against her wishes. The Black name was important to him and was something he could not turn away from. He had to protect the family name.
It was up to him. He was the last one left. He did have pride in his name, pride in the past of the Black family even if he did not agree with their…blood beliefs.
Regulus wasn’t Sirius: brave to the point of recklessness. Unfortunately, he was Regulus: honor bound follower.
Regulus had long ago accepted this and did not feel sorry for himself. It was who he was, who he had been bread to be. He was the second child. He was never meant to lead.
He was the spare.
Only now he was not. He felt ill equipped and wrong footed. He had been play acting for five years. He’d seen Hogwarts as simply another extension of his home life as he was surrounded by people who were so like his mother and his family it was stifling. He loathed most of his housemates. But, he was a follower. The Hat had known it, hence why he was sitting at this table below the green banners with the silver snakes.
He had been hopeful the charade would end in two years. As the spare, after his education was complete, no one could care what he did, as long as he wasn’t an embarrassment.
Casting his blue-grey eyes around the Great Hall, they landed where they often did: on Sirius Black.
He wanted to hate his brother, wanted to be mad and angry and spiteful. He wanted to scream hexes at him, curse him with the worst Dark Magic, but at the same time, Sirius was still his brother. One he missed with an ache in his chest. One he wished he could be more like. But there was a reason the Sorting Hat had put the charming, loud, outgoing Sirius Black in Gryffindor rather than Slytherin.
Sirius was brave.
Regulus— not so much.
Sirius had left home in a blaze of screams, thumps and magic. His exit from the House of Black had been Gryffindor down to the loud slamming down announcing his final exit.
Regulus had never slammed a door in his life. Sirius slammed doors ten times a day.
The moment Regulus heard that door slam for the final time, it was a death sentence. The box snap shut over his head and he was trapped, destined to be suffocated by the pureblood mania that was breaking out all around him.
He wasn’t brave like Sirius. He wasn’t rebellious or loud. He would quietly allow himself to be frog-marched to his pre-planned future.
He followed the rules, he was the good child, the Proper Black Child who sorted into Slytherin.
Ah, the last Black, the Hat whispered into his ear all those years ago. You’re not like you’re brother, are you? Not as strong. No, you’re not a coward, but you’re not your brother. Your bravery is quiet to his loud. You are not reckless. While you’re not as cunning and ambitious as the usual Slytherin, you know what is expected of you. You know your place, so better be SLYTHERIN.
Regulus had found Sirius at the Gryffindor table after the Hat was taken off his head and knew things would never be the same between them. Sirius took House pride seriously and he’d never freely socialize, associate or acknowledge a snake.
Regulus’ quiet manner was mistaken for arrogance. His fellow Slytherins were bitter that Sirius had sorted into Gryffindor and used his so called arrogance as reason to make Regulus’ life hard. The “Little Prince” was shown his place often, hence why he sat alone at the end of the table with the first years and not with his fellow classmates.
Sirius ignored Regulus. He had replaced his real little brother with a better version: James Potter.
“Potter,” he grumbled, noticing the messy haired kid sitting next to his brother.
It was easy to blame James Potter for the negative changes in Sirius. Regulus knew that Sirius was different from the rest of the family, but Sirius wasn’t that different, was he? He was still a Black. The same blood flowed through his veins that flowed through Regulus’. The two boys had been there for one another, till the day Regulus suddenly bleed green instead of red.
It had taken Regulus a few weeks to figure out it was likely Potter’s fault. Potter’s dislike for Slytherins seemed to drive the idiot. Regulus felt that if Sirius hadn’t befriended Potter, he wouldn’t be hateful and spiteful to a single house. Or have morphed into such a bully.
Remus Lupin was never spiteful and hateful towards Slytherins. He was actually friendly. To everyone.
Peter was just a nob.
So, at the end of the day, it was the spoiled, arrogant Potter’s fault.
Regulus hated James Potter.
“You look grumpy.”
Regulus startled, realizing there was a person filling the normally empty space between him and the person who dared to sit near him. It was common knowledge the Little Prince of the House of Black wasn’t to be bothered unless he was being mocked, jerked, beaten, or hexed.
“Sorry,” the girl said.
She didn’t look very sorry. She appeared curious. Regulus stared at her and found he was having issues breathing, as she was rather pretty. Why was she talking to him? Girls, especially girls his own age, did not talk to Regulus.
“I think you’re a Black, am I right?”
“Yes,” Regulus said, somehow managing to find his voice and keep it steady. “Regulus Black.”
He gave her a short head nod. Her eyebrow went up a bit. She was dressed obscenely and even the first years were inching away from her. Regulus would have, but he’d sat at the end of the bench. There was no where to go other than down. A Black didn’t sit on the ground.
“I’m Lanta, though, with the way gossip flies all over this place, I bet you knew that already,” she went on in what might have been some sort of American accent. Regulus didn’t know much about American accents. Americans wizards were almost as low as Muggles as far as his family was concerned. There had been an American wizard claiming Black heritage a few years ago that sent Mother into a conniption.
Regulus gave the girl a short head nod again and went back to his plate. His heart was beating out of control. He poked the contents of his plate for a moment.
“Ah, yes, you Slytherin purebloods have no need for an American witch,” she went on, though the tone of her voice remained light. “Only one Slytherin has actually spoken to me. I think it was your cousin who actually spit in my face.”
Regulus sat up straight, feeling outraged. “She wouldn’t do that. It’s unbecoming!”
Narcissa was officially his favorite cousin. And not just because she was pretty. She was nice and not mentally unbalanced like Bellatrix. Or kicked out like Andromeda. (Who happened to be his unofficial favorite. No one was supposed to know he was still in contact with her, or had met her daughter. And husband. Or eaten at the same table with him.)
“Well, she did. I’m not even sure why,” the girl mused. “Ah, I’m freaking out the firsties. Brilliant. I thought it was just something about you, as you’re totally broody. Most girls seem to find hot.”
Regulus blinked at her a few times, having no idea what she was trying to tell him. While he did feel hot, he doubted it was due to his so called brooding. Nor did he understand why girls would find the fact he was hot a good thing. Hot meant sweaty and sweaty usually led to smelling.
“Hot?”
“It means you’re very good looking and make other people feel warm under the collar,” she explained.
Regulus grunted, feeling his ears heat up. There was a good reason Regulus made sure his hair always covered his ears. They always gave him away.
He pushed the food around on his plate. Lanta pulled out a rather thick book, swished her wand and levitated the book. While reading, she began to fill her plate with food and eat, every now and then flipping pages with a finger that had a fingernail painted the brightest shade of orange Regulus had ever seen. Shaking his head, Regulus went back to pushing his food around his plate. He tried utmost not to glance at her out of the corner of his eye.
She was, if he dared, hot. The description felt off in his mind. He looked back at his plate. He found her very attractive. And he was rather warm.
He stabbed a potato.
“You might want to eat,” she said without looking at him. “You’re rather slight and sickly looking. You’re not ill are you?”
She turned to him, putting him under her full gaze. He slowly looked up at her, meeting her eyes. She had the most interesting eyes he’d ever seen. They were a shade of green that looked a lot like jade stones he’d seen in some of the jewelry his relatives wore. Lanta’s eyes even glittered like a gem.
“No. It’s…nothing.” Regulus squared his shoulders and carefully cut up his food and began to eat.
Fact was he’d been so stressed out from his mother, he hadn’t been eating. Kreacher was in a right state. Regulus had assured the old Elf his cooking was not off, it was just Regulus.
“I’m glad you’re talking to me,” the girl said quietly, looking like she was pushing the words out of the side of her mouth. “It’s been three days and I was beginning to worry no other Slytherin would talk to me. Your cousin spit in my face and Snape only speaks to me in Potions class.”
Regulus put his fork and knife down. “I’m not sure why my cousin spit on you. It was uncalled for and as head of the Family, I apologize.”
Lanta jerked. “You’re head?”
“More or less. Father is very old and not all that concerned,” Regulus admitted. “And Mother…is unwell.”
“Oh,” Lanta said, nodding her head.
Regulus got the distinct feeling she already knew this information about his mother. He did not feel uneasy when she let that slip through her facial expression, rather he felt more at ease.
Which, unsettled him a little.
“So, you’re a…fifth year?”
Regulus nodded. “That is right. What House are you staying in while you’re here?”
She gave him a look. Truth was, Regulus hardly ever heard gossip. He knew there was an exchange student, but he had not heard much passed that. He deduced she was this exchange student due to the fact she was wearing strange robes that were clearly a uniform.
“I’m not. I don’t like how…divided y’all get after you’re sorted. The Slytherines hate the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. The Gryffindors hate you Slytherines with a passion. The only neutral ground is Ravenclaw, but I doubt if I put that ratty hat on my head I’d be put there. None of you socialize across House lines. You sit at one long table together as a House, you hang out together in your closed off rooms…you go to classes with mostly your House, or one you hate.”
Regulus felt something well up within him and he opened his mouth to defend Slytherin and tell her how House pride was important, but nothing came out of his mouth because at that moment he caught his brother staring at them out of the corner of his eye. Regulus cast his grey-blue eyes towards his bother’s grey ones to find his brother looking at him for the first time in five years— really looking at him. There was a frown on Sirius’s handsome face as his eye bore into Regulus.
Sirius was jealous Regulus had gotten the attention of the new girl. Sirius was upset that the new girl wasn’t sitting at the table with him at the Gryffindor table, because to Sirius that was the best House and the only House the new girl should want to dine with.
Regulus quickly looked at Lanta, who was waiting for him to say something.
“You’re right,” he heard himself say. “My brother hasn’t bothered to look at me for five years until tonight.”
Lanta looked over to the other side of the room, her eyes slowly scanning. Regulus enjoyed that she had no clue where Sirius was. Regulus knew for a fact that over three-fourths of the female population spent each meal staring at Sirius Black and James Potter.
“Ah, so he is,” she said, looking smug. “He’s so freaking full of himself. I never imagined…well, we only had a short interchange. Or two.” She shrugged. “This table is much quieter.”
Regulus nodded. “That it is.”
“Do you like your brother?”
“No,” he lied. He could have told her it was complicated. He could have spent hours explaining the complex relationship and circumstances that lead to his current problems.
But, he felt she might have already known.
She nodded, looking thoughtful.
“You seem to have….have formed a rather strong feeling on him.”
Lanta snorted. “I doubt you’d believe me if I told you how I judged him so quickly. I wasn’t all that shocked when your cousin spit at me, either. I made a mental note to never approach a Slytherin girl in the loo.”
Regulus frowned.
“Anyways, you wouldn’t believe me. But, yeah, I’ve got a handle on him. I know the four-one-one.”
“Excuse me?”
Atlanta chuckled, sticking the fork into her mouth. She let it hang there before she tugged it out. Regulus stared at her mouth as she chewed and swallowed, for some reason finding it fascinating.
“Never mind.” She looked over at him and smiled. She had very straight, white teeth. “Your brother thought I was simply mad. Coo-coo.” She made a noise and crossed her eyes. Snapping her eyes back to normal, she locked eyes with Regulus. It felt like she was staring into his soul. “But, you’d believe me.”
She turned back and finished off her dinner. She grabbed the book and shut it, slamming it into her satchel.
“Well, Regulus Black, it was lovely to meet you. If you’d like to talk to me further, I’m sure you’ll find me.”
She gave him a rather dazzling smile and gracefully got up off the bench. Regulus watched her walk across the Great Hall towards the door, her leather bag swinging. She didn’t get far before she was accosted by Sirius. Frowning, Regulus almost leapt up to pry his older brother off her, but she ducked Sirius and veered off, leaving Sirius looking rather baffled. She tossed herself down at the Gryffindor table across from Remus Lupin. Sirius hurried to sit down near her, but she finished whatever she wanted to say to Lupin and walked off, leaving Sirius behind.
Again.
Potter and Lupin proceeded to mock and poke fun at Sirius for a while till Sirius slumped out of the Great Hall, more than likely to search for Lanta.
He wouldn’t find her, Regulus realized.
“I will,” Regulus said, feeling a compelling need to go grab his Tarot cards and head to the seventh floor.