(1972, September)
Regulus
Regulus had been looking forward to going to Hogwarts as long as he could remember – and even more since Sirius had left at the end of the previous summer. He was more than prepared, and spending day after day writing essays for his mother or learning magic from Bellatrix, or hanging around the Rosier estate with his cousin Evan was just killing time until his letter arrived.
Yule had been wretched, with Meda gone, and Narcissa hardly talking, even when it was just the two of them at Ancient House. Summer might have been worse, with Sirius alternating between rubbing in his whole year's seniority and sneaking out to explore Muggle London, and Mother alternating between tirades about what bad influences his Gryffindor friends had been on him, and how poor of an Heir he was for their Noble and Ancient House. Sirius was, of course, furious with Narcissa for 'selling him out' even though Regulus knew that most of Walburga's information actually came from Aunt Druella, who got it from Evan's older brothers, and immediately owled Walburga about how her son was on his way to becoming just as big a disgrace as Meda (and how he, as the Heir, was an altogether more important failure than one of three daughters). Narcissa had sniped about Sirius talking about family business to outsiders, without explaining exactly what she meant, and then declared that she would be spending the summer at Ancient House, unless Mother wanted her present for lessons, because even Bella's friends were better company than some cousins she could name.
Regulus had fled to join her soon after, leaving his stubborn prat of a brother to fend for himself, and they spent most of their days flying, dancing, or dueling, three activities in which, Narcissa claimed, Hogwarts' curriculum was sadly lacking. Bellatrix was busier, now, one of the main leaders of the Knights of Walpurgis. They had been more and more active as long as Regulus could remember, but there had been a distinct escalation the previous spring, just before Meda ran off: the Ministry attacked the Bacchanalia at Walpurgis, and the Dark houses had been absolutely enraged. Still, she occasionally found time to teach him and Cissy new curses or tactics for their duels, or let them practice alongside her new recruits, and he was sure he was getting better.
All in all, the days passed quickly, but unfortunately, Regulus was still expected to show up to dinner at Grimmauld. The meal was always horribly awkward, either because Sirius had skipped out on it, hiding in Muggle London, or because he appeared, and was being harangued by Mother for the last event or meal he managed to escape, while their father observed and directed his punishment with drunken, hate-filled glares. He never raised his wand against them, not since that Yule when he almost killed Sirius, but Mother was more than willing to follow through on the curses he couldn't cast.
Right up until the letters arrived and his trunk was packed, and he was being dropped off at the Platform, just like Sirius and Cissy, Regulus was excited to go. He knew he was ready – it seemed like he had been for ages, really – and Hogwarts couldn't be worse than sitting around, helpless, as his family tore itself apart around him. Boarding the train, though, it suddenly hit him: he was going – leaving home, for the first time in his life, for months. There would be no more lessons from Mother, no Bella telling him about current events, no Mabon or Samhain celebrations. He would go to Slytherin, of course – he much preferred to live up to his family's expectations than let them all down and make them hate him like Sirius, and Narcissa was better company, anyway, but it wouldn't be the same. He would have to make friends with the other boys in his year (not just Evan, though he was sure that his Rosier cousin would be in Slytherin, too). What if they didn't like him? What if their expectations were different from the ones he had grown up with? What was he supposed to do if he didn't know the right answers?
But he really had no choice: he had to get on the train. He knew that was what he was supposed to do, so he did it, finding the compartment where Evan was already sitting, and letting it carry him away to Hogwarts.
He rode across the lake in a little wooden boat, ruthlessly stomping on his awe at his first sight of the school, and followed the giant gamekeeper up the endless stair to the castle, smirking at all the people who shouted when the ghosts came floating into their waiting room. He had a brief moment of panic when the Hat tried to put him in Hufflepuff – Hufflepuff! Imagine the shame! – but managed to convince it that he was, in fact, every bit as worthy of Slytherin as the rest of his family (barring Sirius, who was obviously a fluke). He introduced himself coolly to the other first-years, trying to strike a balance between Narcissa's standoffishness and Sirius' open gregariousness that he thought he could maintain all year, if he had to, and they followed a prefect into the dungeons, to listen sleepily to their Head of House (a ridiculously obese man in striped robes that made him look like a walking sofa) give them a quick welcome speech.
The next morning, he reported to the Great Hall for breakfast (with Narcissa's help, because the castle was huge, and confusing), and was given his time-table, then left to make his way to class. He set off with a few of his year-mates to find the first, affecting unaffectedness, while hoping desperately behind his mask that transfiguration would go well. Eventually, he made it through the week unscathed, and then the month, and before he knew it, he moved with confidence through secret passages and hidden doors, and had made a reputation for himself as being quiet but unflappable, and a bit of a swot, quite unlike his older brother, thanks-very-much.
It was, he decided, a good start, even if all he had done was exactly what he was expected to do. Everyone seemed pleased enough, so he decided that he had done well.
