I do not own Harry Potter.

Hey, anybody wanna review? Please? Anyone read this? I'm so sad nobody's said anything . . .

Yeah, yeah, I know. It's so much more fun to spite me.

After Father's demand that I still pay respect to the boy who was obviously trying to ruin the family, a small rift erupted between Mummy and Father. Mummy protected me, saying that I knew what was to be the family's undoing and should not be punished for attempting to fix it. Father, however, stubbornly clung to the traditions, however impractical. I settled happily in Mummy's support, though I knew I agreed with Father. Of the traditions were destroyed in an effort to preserve them-- there was nothing to preserve.

Sirius did not seem terribly flattered by Father's new attentions for him. They meant only more rigorous rules, and more visits to his office. He was supposed to be learning the practices and prejudices of the Black family, but he was a very unwilling pupil. Father harped on him about his posture, his attitude, his manner, his dress, and even his hair, but never gave up on that his son would one day take his place as the leader of the family-- with all the trimmings. Sirius, however, couldn't care less.

Sometimes, it seemed, Sirius tried too hard to be difficult. When Father gave his rants, Sirius would retort with Gryffindorian wisdom, often with an air that it was obvious. Father at first explained his side, hoping Sirius would take it in, but later he resorted to arguing and finally point-blank refusal to listen. It got to the point that when Sirius opened his mouth to provide rebuttal, Father would simply Evanesco his dinner and order him to his room. Straight discipline was the only thing guaranteed to stop the arguments, Father reasoned. It did stop the arguing, but instead of created a docile, accepting son, it only turned Sirius cold and brooding. He would sit at the table, frowning, listening to the conversation with a horrible frown on his face, speaking to no one, not even Andromeda. Mummy would carp that he sit up straight and look pleasant, but there was little else to demand. He obeyed the letter of the law.

While the battle raged on within our house, the real battle began outside. Bellatrix first told me about Lord Voldemort the Christmas of my second year. She was Head Girl, and finally of age as early that December. Her mother had allowed her to attend a New Years Ball with my parents and hers, held at the Malfoy residence. Lucius, the Head Boy (for the first time since Dumbledore had become Headmaster both were Slytherin), and Rodolphus would be there, as they could pose as adults as well. It was a rite of passage, this ball-- more important, even, than a coming out.

She told me about the evening in a blur when she arrived home in the early hours of the morning. the I had stayed up for the new year with the rest of my cousins, alone in the nursery with a few snacks. Sirius had gone off to owl his friends and wish them Happy New Year, and Andromeda was chatting about a book she read to Narcissa-- who seemed surprisingly interested. Bellatrix came in, her hair still immaculate up on her head, her deep purple dress so mature with the childish nursery that I still felt so much a part of.

"I met him, Regulus," she told me, taking me into my room and shutting the door. "I know you're the only one here who would really appreciate this. Cissa's heart is in the right place but she hasn't any idea what I'm talking about, and there's no use in even talking to Andromeda and Sirius.

"It was meant to be a ball . . . you know, dancing, light conversation, drinks . . . but he managed to turn it into a veritable political convention. He's a great speaker, Regulus, and so debonair . . . he was in this suave black cloak, and the way he caught your attention . . . he talked with me, and told me I had an acute sense of politics-- he said that!-- and he even danced with me for a number. Yet when he got up to speak a few words, he got everyone wound up, even your father, and you know he never allows himself to get upset about politics. He's so right about everything, how the Muggle-borns are taking over and the pureblood lines are being diluted. He's got keen plans for fixing it all . . . and you know what's terrible? He said Voldemort's not a real name, that he's had to hide his true name to protect his family, isn't that sad? The Muggle-borns and crazed anti-pro-purebloods would come after him! It's a danger, he said, and there needs to be radical action to counter it. That's just what I've been looking for, less of this chat that your Father is into and more action! He's going to start an elite league of followers, and I told him I would join up, and that I would get you in, too, as soon as you're old enough to fight, maybe even before."

I was shocked but terribly flattered. I was only twelve, and yet I was one of the first invitations to the largest pro-pureblood movement since Grindelwald.

I did not meet Lord Voldemort, however, until the following summer.

Bellatrix graduated with honors from Hogwarts, Head Girl and second in her class, behind only Lucius Malfoy (whose father, I suspected, might have given a heavy donation to encourage). It was she, however, who spoke at the ceremony, giving a brilliant account of how our generation was on the verge of great changes for all of wizardkind, capable of creating a society more perfect than mankind had ever seen. She beautifully and subtly planted very discreet-- but obvious to those who knew her well-- hints about the nature of these changes. Our new society would be powerful, advanced, elite, and perfect-- such a perfect term for the purity and aristocracy of the pro-pureblood dream.

She received a letter a week later complimenting her speech, from none other than the man himself. The letter furthered to say that Lord Voldemort was curious to know if she was interested in taking action, as she had suggested in her speech, and now.

"He has such an interest in me," she glowed, showing me her congratulations.

It was not far after that the Malfoys held another gathering, though this time a more casual dinner party. I was welcome, too, but was dressed so much more casually than Bellatrix, who was dressed to the nines in hopes she might attract attention, her deep green robes low cut and tight at her waist. Sirius, too, was advised by Mummy to chat up some of the girls there; it would not be long before he was due to start courting. He appeared positively irked in his pine green dress robes, his hair charmed by Mother to be so sleek it couldn't be flipped attractively as he liked, and the girls, to Mummy's dismay, all knew him from school as the arrogant Gryffindor who frowned on their house, and he had a rotten antisocial evening.

It's not as if he didn't try a little, though. He used his usual sly, flirting tactics, and might have won over a couple girls-- who might forgive him for his pure blood and suave words-- if Mummy hadn't caught him at it.

"You're coming off as entirely too fast," she hissed in his ear as I stood by. "Look at your brother; he just politely TALKS, while you have to attempt to persuade them to get UNDRESSED."

"Bella does even more than that," Sirius sniffed.

"Bella," Mummy growled, "is three years older than you. She is entitled to be a little more--"

"Slutty?" Sirius suggested. "Whorish?"

"Watch your mouth!" Mummy's wand, point-down in her hand, jerked upward and Sirius slammed his hand involuntarily to his thigh, where she must have hexed him.

Andromeda, at sixteen, though hopelessly plain next to her older, more eligible sister, was still resplendant with her pink cheeks and pale blue robes-- her parents tolerated the Ravenclaw theme-- and Narcissa, only fourteen, outshone her with her large eyes, framing perfect golden curls, and flowing pink robes. I was in simple black; there was little attention needing to be paid to me yet. Narcissa was meant to be kept in the shadows, too, out of respect for her older sisters, but her mother couldn't help dolling up her beautiful daughter.

I avoided conversation, fearful I might embarrass myself by slipping up the rigors and rules, and spent the first half of the evening wandering the lavish Malfoy manor with Narcissa. She was captivated by the luxury, which, like the lighter hair of the Malfoys, was decorated in a much lighter Rococo style-- though it did little to mask the obvious dark culture that was embedded too in our own house.

I observed Bellatrix with her companions, the now-grown Lucius and Rodolphus who had always clung to her. Most of the time, it seemed, Lucius argued with her and Rodolphus agreed-- and though Rodolphus was duller, as well as weak and shifty-looking, he held more favor with her than the radiant but opinionated Lucius.

I stopped in my tracks, peeking out from behind a vast white pillar, when I saw a man in flowing, thick black robes appraoch Bellatrix's threesome. He carried an aura that radiated out to me; I knew him at once.

"My lord!" Bellatrix greeted him, kissing the hand he raised and giving a little bow. Rodolphus and Lucius both nodded their heads. They began an animated conversation that I could not hear but watched intently, feeling the essence of power pouring through me as I watched the tall and aging but still energetic man.

I noticed that Bellatrix had noticed me. Her eyes fell on me behind the pillar, and she turned Lord Voldemort to look at me. I stepped out from behind the pillar and she walked over, sweeping me to the man I held such fascination for.

"And this is my young cousin Regulus," Bellatrix introduced me. "He is only thirteen, but he shows such devotion to the cause already. He wrote several essays for the Daily Prophet-- a few rejected, such a scandal-- but all championing the pro-pureblood ideal. He truly understands what we are up against. He has even," she raised her eyebrows for effect, "denounced his own brother for his less-than-rigid feelings for impure blood."

"But Bella--" started Lucius.

"Bellatrix," Bella snapped to him acerbically. "To you, it's Bellatrix."

Lucius glowered at her. "BellaTRIX," he coughed lightly, "family and family loyalty-- the ideal of pure blood-- is one of the greatest causes we hold."

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "You know Sirius," she hissed. "You know what type of stance he takes. Regulus is wise. None of that type should be deemed as family."

Lord Voldemort laughed, a high, cruel, cold, mirthless laugh that gave me chills. It caught everyone's attention. He laid a thin white hand on Bellatrix's shoulder and turned his chilling dark eyes on me. "Regulus . . . " he whispered. "Well, if you are a loyal follower, perhaps when you are of age we can find use for you. Until then, however, there is little that can be done but spread the world . . . and perhaps train?" He raised his eyebrows at Bellatrix, Lucius, and Rodolphus.

"We are out of school, now," Bellatrix said gently.

"Rosier still remains. Avery, Crabbe, Goyle, Jugson, Mulciber, Travers, your brother--" he motioned to Rodolphus. "Have them take this boy into their inner circle. They know much already, and they may share what they have gained."

I felt myself growing tingly with excitement. Bellatrix sidestepped closer to Lord Voldemort. "I can take periodic visits back to the school," she cooed, oozing the charm she always did around men. "After all, I have four cousins there."

"You may take the lead on this, Bella, if you like," Lord Voldemort nodded to her. Lucius frowned behind him, but he sensed it and turned to him. "Lucius, my friend, I have other uses for you. Your father's connections at the Ministry . . . and I assume you shall be accompanying him at times? You have a way with persuasion, my apprentice, that Bella often lacks the patience for."

Lucius smiled as Bellatrix sniffed.

So began my training.

Bellatrix was perfectly welcome in her visits. It was my job to warn everyone concerned beforehand; she would write me to say she was visiting soon, and I would relay the message. Some of the teachers might have found it odd for most of Slytherin house to be so excited by one alumna's visits, but those who knew her-- and her charm-- accepted it. Besides, she was a clever, intelligent girl, and no one would object to being exposed to her.

Unfortunately, not everyone quite understood the code.

"Bella's visiting?" Barty asked me, wide-eyed, one day at dinner when I announced with a smile to the table that she would be in Hogsmeade the next weekend we were allowed to visit.

"BellaTRIX," I said through clenched teeth. He had not been given permission. "Yes, she is, but, er--"

"Can I see her? Where are you meeting her?"

"It's just a family--"

"You told Evan. And Severus. And-- hell, you told everybody, Regulus."

I sighed. Barty was, after all, my friend-- the only one in my year. "Fine, you can come along. Just . . . just . . . " I lowered my voice. "Whatever you do, don't tell your dad about it."

Barty's eyes grew wide. He understood-- somewhat.

When the weekend came, Bellatrix gave me an unpleasant look when I walked into the Hog's Head-- our meeting place (in which I was not allowed but was graciously shielded by the others) with Barty, but it soon abated when Barty humored us all with a detailed account on his father's plans for reforming the purity laws.

Bellatrix accosted me after the meeting. "Have you considered visiting Bartemius over holiday?" she asked. "Or is your Mummy being picky about the Crouches? They're not exactly . . . elite pure." She grinned, alighting the fanatical gleam in her eye that had become more and more prominent the more she worked with Lord Voldemort. "Infiltration," she whispered intriguingly. "Perhaps having Barty Crouch, Jr. on our side won't be so bad. His father is one of the key opponents to our cause, and if he tells his dear son everything . . . " she sniggered, a humming rumble in the back of her throat.

She beckoning Barty, who had been standing off to the side of an enclosed conversation between Rabastan Lestrange and Evan Rosier, and he came over willingly. Bellatrix leaned into him, grinning, dripping with her charm. "Barty," she said, "how would you like to join our cause? Ever considered that you're superior to all these folks your father works with?"

Barty glowered. "I've told my dad before he wouldn't even NEED to work if we were still in with high wizard society. We've got a pure line, but he insists on being so touchy-feely-everybody's-equal that he spends more time at work than at home."

Bellatrix smiled. Barty's pale blue eyes scanned hers, taken in. She put her hand under his chin and pulled even closer. I saw a faint blush spread throughout his pale face, bringing out his orangey freckles. "You truly understand, don't you?" she cooed. "You have the blood of your forefathers and the respect for them they would have wanted you to have. How would you like to bring Crouch to the top again? You know what you need to do."

Barty nodded as if entranced. Bella had recruited yet another.

By the end of second year, I had written my first editorial to the Daily Prophet. For a twelve-year-old, I thought I had done quite well. Those that agreed with me wrote in in response, saying that if a child knew this to be true, it must be so. Others wrote in about brainwashing and propaganda. Bella told me that this was good; controversy would stir up interest. Lord Voldemort, who had been working subtly behind the scenes all this time, would be very proud.

Proudest of all were Mummy and Father.

Dear Regulus,

I can't express how proud we are of you. Your article was very well-written and intelligent. You clearly understand our society and its needs. It's regrettable Sirius has not learned as you have. It is a great relief to have a son that understands.

-Mother

I couldn't wait for breakfast to be over so I could run over and flaunt my win to Sirius. However, Mummy had already got it covered. As I had rushed through my letter, the last few owls arrived-- including one with a red envelope clutched in its beak, that landed right in front of Sirius.

He put his face in his hands as it exploded.

SIRIUS BLACK! HOW IS IT YOUR YOUNGER-BY-TWO-YEARS BROTHER CAN GRASP EVERY CONCEPT WE'VE EVER TAUGHT YOU, BUT YOU CANNOT? HE HAS WRITTEN TO THE PAPERS, HE UNDERSTANDS SOCIETY SO WELL! HE TAKES INTEREST AND ACTION IN SOCIETY! WHAT DO YOU DO? SIT ON YOUR BUTT AND FORGET EVERYTHING WE TEACH YOU! WHY CAN'T YOU BE MORE LIKE REGULUS, AND GIVE A BLOODY DAMN ABOUT THINGS???

The letter curled up into smoking shreds, and Sirius lifted his face, upon which I could detect just the faintest of pink. He blinked, trying to clear the screaming from his ears. From what I could tell, he didn't give a bloody damn about Mummy's letter, either.