Chapter Text
The Hogwarts Express - 1972.
Regulus sat in the corner of a train compartment by himself. His brother and their group comprised of their closest friends were off somewhere, probably causing disruption. Mother would kill him if her perfect son did anything like what was probably happening further up the train. After all, a child is to be seen and not heard. A small, hidden, part of him longed to spend time with his big brother, but even getting onto the train was a difficulty. Sirius seemed convinced that Regulus would be in the same house as him, but he knew that it wouldn't happen. He had no proof, but knew deep down that he couldn't let it happen. He had to remain the dear and darling heir and favourite son to his parents; he had to protect his brother above all else.
Mostly, he longed to find some others and not look like such an outcast in the small room alone. He risked a glance out of the glass of the door. The compartment across from his seemed occupied, mostly by a gaggle of kids his age that looked like the type his mother would approve of. So, Regulus Black did what he thought he'd never do. He stepped out into the corridor and scored himself and invitation to the group of friends.
Using his height to his advantage as he entered, Regulus was able to look down at the sitting figures. His usual unbothered state seemed fascinating to the others as they sized him up. "So, what are we discussing?" The question broke the silence.
The boy introduced himself as Barty before answering him, "Houses. And which house we'd like to be in. Personally, I'd like to be in Slytherin to piss off my father. He's a right cunt."
Regulus raised a manicured eyebrow.
"He's a total shithead. A ministry nutter. Y'know what I mean?"
He nodded slightly, shifting his gaze to look pointedly at one of the others, choosing at random.
"Don't look at me like that, kid. I'm just on babysitting duty to make sure you fuckwits don't burn down the carriage," She rolled her eyes at him with a look of slight distain. Regulus decided that he liked her.
"Regulus Black." He extended a slim, pale hand. She shook it.
"Dorcas Meadowes. In the year above you lot. I've met your brother." He scoffed at this, looking at her tiredly.
"Who hasn't met my brother?"
"I haven't. Who is he, anyways?" Barty piped up this time, prodded by the quiet boy sitting beside him.
At this, Regulus chose to sit down between Dorcas and the window, which soon respectively became his best friend newest source of entertainment.
The Sorting Ceremony - 1972.
He met his brother's desperate eyes. He met Dorcas' welcoming, warm gaze. Both sets of eyes were then hidden beneath the brim of an old hat. A voice reverberated through his head, talking to itself.
Now, who is this? Ah, a black. Another of the inbred ones I bet. Regulus inhaled sharply, stifling a sudden need to laugh for no reason he could gather. Where would you like to go? Gryffindor, like the older brother? Or shall we mix it up and put those brains to use in Ravenclaw?
Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin. Regulus chanted the word over and over in his mind, hoping that he could get what he wanted just this once.
To his delight, it listened. As he walked from the stage in a dazed state, he wondered if the hat had messed his hair up. The silky strands felt tangled between his fingers as one by one his new friends joined my table and he steadfastly ignored his brother's look of longing and grief from across the hall. That could be dealt with later.
First things first, he had dinner to eat, friends to observe, and knowledge to overhear. Then he would go about being the perfect child and distracting his parents from his brother's abysmal behaviour and taste in friends.
Thankfully, Dorcas seemed happy to talk to him despite his lack of answer. She told him about her friends, Mary Macdonald and Marlene McKinnon, whom Regulus couldn't care less about until he realised that one of them had been Sirius' girlfriend for a few months the year before. They were always writing to each other and he grimaced at the thought of his mother reading those letters.
Slytherin Boy's Dormitories - 1972.
Regulus, Barty, and the quiet boy he discovered was called Evan, all shared a room with a greasy half-blood from the year above them. He was apparently "stuck with them" to ensure there was no trouble, but if he was to be honest then Regulus would say that he was utterly sure Snape had no friends in his own year. Either way, he was an apparent nuisance and always seemed in the way whenever Regulus needed something. Unpacking and sorting his robes? Severus was trying to get to something in the drawers nearby. Making his bed? Severus needed him to unmake it again so he could check for his lost quill. This, Regulus was not cooperating with.
Barty seemed entirely on board with the operation to retaliate against Snape's idiocy, and kept snatching things from his trunk when his back was turned. Each time Severus turned around to see what the matter was behind him, Barty had already tossed the items to Evan, whose bedside table was remarkably full already.
Sitting on his bed with a book in his hands, Regulus simply watched as the games continued. Their room was larger than he'd expected it to be, with smallish windows that showed a small sliver of the lake outside. The water was murky and there appeared to be a layer of algae growing on the outside of the windows, but Regulus found it comforting.
He was jolted from his thoughts by a loud yelp from Barty, who managed to spill ink over his head and blonde hair. He had a sneaking suspicion that Severus had... Assisted in the spill, and resigned himself to tolerating the older student whilst they shared a living space. Regulus lazily called out to Barty who was hunched over the sink washing his hair, "There's some on your left ear still. No, not the right one. Honestly, do you not know your lefts and rights?"
Barty looked up and shrugged at him, grinning lopsidedly. "I never bothered to pay too much attention to it. It's a 50/50 chance either way so I couldn't be bothered."
In his quiet corner of the room, Evan Rosier joined the conversation. Regulus was pleasantly surprised to know that he could in fact speak, and simply chose not to waste his words on the meaningless chatter of the train. "Barty, it'll stain if you don't wash it off soon. Hurry up." Regulus agreed, but wasn't fussed to add anymore to the conversation. Distantly, he wondered how Sirius was holding up now that his hopes were crushed. Sorry, brother, he thought. There can only be one black sheep of the family. The rest of us have to remain as pure as ever. Toujours pur. Yes, he thought. Toujours pur. There must always be an heir and a spare, no matter which way around it is.