Regulus
December 31, 1975
Regulus Black loathed his mother's parties.
He despised the grotesque display of wealth, the numerous strands of pearls that adorned the necks of his mother's peers and the gold watches clasped around the wrists of Pureblood patriarchs.
He was disgusted by the thick fog of tobacco and perfume that permeated throughout his family's home—the potency of the overwhelming scents burning his eyes and his throat, cutting off his intake of fresh oxygen.
He abhorred the grandfather clock within his father's study, his skin crawling alongside every tick. The sound was nothing but a dire reminder that his father would soon disappear with a woman that was not his wife, and that his mother would drown herself in scotch as she ignored her husband's infidelity.
However, what Regulus detested the most, was that he always wound up alone.
His mother's guests never brought their children along, for good reason, leaving Regulus with the only option of mingling with those decades older.
They were a judgmental lot, always questioning why he let his hair grow out so long, why he was interested in such a barbaric game as Quidditch, why he'd refused the Durmstrang Institute's pleading offer to have a Black among their ranks—
When he was a child, he used to be able to retreat into the arms of his elder brother, Sirius.
But that was no longer an option.
Only two months prior, after an explosive argument with their mother and father, Sirius had escaped at the dead of night and never returned—forsaking his family for the company of the blood traitor James Potter.
Regulus had lost his brother to the band of idiots he surrounded himself with long ago, but the permeance of Sirius' absence, of his exile, had left a gaping hole within his soul. It was a wound that he threw a cloak of indifference over most days, but even the most secure cloaks have the tendency to slip.
A hushed silence fell over his father's study, drawing Regulus out of his thoughts.
The bodies that had congregated within the room parted to reveal the arrival of the guest Regulus had endured the entire night waiting for, the one he felt he had been waiting fourteen years for.
Lord Voldemort strode into the study, escorted by Bellatrix Lestrange.
Regulus lingered by the fireplace, silently observing the wave of bows and curtsies that the Dark Lord attracted as he greeted his followers. Their gazes roamed over his frame hungrily, pausing upon the waves of thick, black hair, and his piercing eyes.
Regulus understood that Voldemort's physicality was yet another tool at his disposal.
Purebloods craved beauty and desired to be near it.
His father and mother waited patiently for their guest of honor and their niece at his side, their standing as the host family allowing them to remain separate from the crowd of admirers.
Regulus' eyes shifted towards Bellatrix, watching his cousin intently as she hung from Voldemort's arm. She was doe eyed, her infatuation blatantly obvious even though her husband Rodolphus stood mere feet away.
Regulus was only fourteen, but he knew a fool when he saw one.
He straightened his posture as Voldemort and Bellatrix drifted over towards the fireplace and the rest of the partygoers observed with bated breath as his mother dropped low into a curtsy while he and his father bowed.
Regulus felt goosebumps form on the back of his neck as he rose.
Voldemort's jade eyes were trained solely on him.
"My Lord, it is the greatest honor to welcome you into our home." Orion Black exclaimed before turning his eyes on Bellatrix and greeting his niece with a curt, "Bella."
"Uncle." Bellatrix grinned menacingly and her eyes flicked among her three relatives. "Aunt Walburga, Regulus." Her eyes lit up with mischief at the clear absence of Sirius. "I see your eldest has yet to return?"
Orion flushed with embarrassment.
Voldemort's lips curled with amusement at Bellatrix's jest. "Bella, show our hosts, your family, some respect."
"We have but one son and one only." Walburga met Bellatrix's eyes with fury. "My Lord, Regulus is a Fourth Year at Hogwarts, Slytherin of course, and has admired your work for many years." Walburga laid a hand delicately on Regulus' shoulder, her eyes softening as she directed her gaze towards Voldemort.
"Is that so?" The Dark Lord arched an eyebrow curiously. "Tell me boy of this admiration."
Voldemort was staring at Regulus so intensely he was having trouble catching his breath.
He gulped silently as the beat of his heart sped under the weight of the Dark Lord's gaze.
"I have a desire to specialize in Legilimency and your reputation as a Legilimens precedes you." Regulus struggled to stabilize the shaking of his voice. "They don't teach Legilimency at Hogwarts, as you know, but I've been receiving lessons from a fellow Slytherin, Severus Snape. He is also an avid admirer of yours."
"I see." Voldemort narrowed his eyes curiously before shifting his gaze towards Bellatrix. "Bella, aid your uncle in assembling the inner circle to the drawing room, we have much to discuss, but I must steal a moment with young Regulus beforehand."
Regulus stomach tied into knots at the Dark Lord's words.
"My Lord—" Bellatrix began to huff, affronted at the dismissal.
He fixed her with a dangerous glare, and she shrunk into herself like a wounded animal.
"We await your arrival." Orion bowed, agreeing to the Dark Lord's demand without sparing a glance towards his son. He offered Bellatrix his arm and she accepted it with great reluctance, her eyes full of longing for Voldemort as she was led away.
The Dark Lord's dismissal of the host signaled to the guests gathered that the party could resume as before, and Walburga squeezed Regulus' hand, pride shining in her eyes, before she too drifted away.
"Come, let's put distance between us and those sycophants." Voldemort commanded, his repugnance for the others nearby clear upon his face.
He shifted his gaze back to Regulus and that revulsion morphed into intrigue. He beckoned for Regulus to follow him and the pair retreated to a corner of the study, bookcases framing their position on either side.
"As you are aware, your mother and father have refused my proposal to actively participate within our cause. Their monetary support has progressed our efforts nonetheless, but their hesitancy to reveal their allegiance, to cut certain social ties, is disheartening." Voldemort locked gazes with Regulus before continuing, "But you are not your parents, Regulus. Where do you fit? Your brother has chosen his side, have you?"
"Yes." He answered without hesitation. "I have."
"And?"
"My mother and father were born with weak wills and faint hearts. They have never sought a real purpose outside wealth and social status. I am not the same." Regulus asserted. "And I refuse to be led astray like my brother. My allegiance lies with you, with the cause, within the fray."
Voldemort's eyes lit up victoriously.
"That is what separates you from your family, that is what separates your generation from that of your parents, from my own." Voldemort explained. "You seek a purpose, a calling, not riches or power. No, you understand that those come later, but first, you must belong."
Regulus' heart swelled, the Dark Lord's words resonating within his bones.
"Yes, my Lord." He agreed wholeheartedly. "You will find you have many supporters among the youth at Hogwarts, within every House."
"Good, good. Become acquainted with those that wish to join our cause—remember their names, their faces." Voldemort leveled his gaze at Regulus determinedly. "Can you do that? Can I trust you, Regulus?"
"Always."
"Splendid." The Dark Lord's lips curled with delight. "Now, I must leave for the drawing room, but, before I do, I must ask something of you. Call it a test if you must."
He motioned for Regulus to escort him towards the door, his voice dropping to a hushed tone as he continued, "I regret to inform you that there is a traitor among us this evening, someone that been passing information regarding our recruitments efforts along to the Ministry."
Regulus' eyes widened as he and the Dark Lord sauntered near the furthest edges of the study, away from the swarm of guests.
Voldemort eyed Regulus out of his peripheral. "I am aware of their identity, but what I am curious about is, are you?"
Panic shot through Regulus' veins. "My Lord?"
"I sensed your abilities the moment we were introduced. Do not underestimate your power." Voldemort asserted. "You are an observant boy, identify the traitor."
With a slight nod of understanding, Regulus' gaze drifted towards the other guests.
To the ordinary eye, the ordinary mind, there wasn't a difference to be found from one witch and wizard to the next. They were of the most prestigious Wizarding families, decorated with wealth and blessed with beauty. They moved through life seamlessly with privilege, an air of arrogance and superiority weaved within their auras.
But Regulus Black was not ordinary.
His eyes darted to a wizard that had caught his attention earlier.
"Mikael Blishwick." Regulus declared. "He bowed to you when you arrived, but he refused to meet your eyes. He's observed your every move since and has failed miserably at pretending not to do so. He's also on his fourth glass of firewhiskey, leaving his mind vulnerable."
Regulus furrowed his brow as struggled to press into Mikael's mind without his wand. He and Severus had only just begun delving into the study of wandless Legilimency before Hogwarts let out for the holidays.
His breath hitched as he stumbled upon a few of Mikael's most recent thoughts.
"He's anxious, afraid even. He's afraid because, somehow, he knows he won't be leaving here alive."
Voldemort's grin of approval was serpentine.
"We're going to work well together, you and I."