Disclaimer - I don't own Harry Potter. This is yet another alternative method for Regulus living which came about from reading a lot of other Regulus lives of which there were quite a few involving him time traveling to live, but this got stuck in my head, not to mention the fact I could actually have discussion of autism during the late 90s was something I couldn't pass up. Arcturus and Lucrettia are also alive in this. Eventual Draco/Hermione, Regulus/Luna, slow burn.

Old Magic
Grimmauld

Nothing stirred in Grimmauld place except for the wispy cobwebs, which resulted from a breeze blowing through the entryway while the front door of the ancestral Black Family home lay on the floor, blasted inward by some overzealous Death Eaters in search of information regarding the Dark Lord's enemies. Ensuing weather created even further damage to the already worn carpets and peeling wallpapers.

It was into this setting one Regulus Arcturus Black appeared quite unexpectedly with a loud crack, his small body landing with a resounding thud against the wooden door which in turn resulted in screaming emitting forth from Walburga Black's portrait. For a moment, he lay there lifeless while dirty water began pooling around his small, soaking wet frame. Blood from various injuries mingled with the water, helping to make an even bigger mess of the entryway.

After a few seconds, his open mouth clamped shut while his eyes stirred wildly behind his closed eyelids, then Regulus' body began twitching, his lungs aching for air. Instinctively a hand reached out, scratching, and pulling at the door in an attempt to pull himself up, but when Regulus did, he began couching and retching the dreaded water up, his entire body trembling as he did so. His eyes kept fluttering while he slowly found himself in a sitting position leaning over the palms of her hands.

Eventually, Regulus found himself breathing, taking in the fact he was alive despite the fact he shouldn't be, yet as his vision cleared he found himself looking down the long hallway while Walburga continued yelling, her own voice yelling about the filth she hated much blending with the voices in Regulus' head making him unable to tell the difference between the two, but he did know what he saw in the entranceway was his worst nightmare.

Leaning forwards slightly, letting his forehead go down so he might cover his ears he attempted to scream, yet only a strangled sound – to him utter silence – came out. "It's my fault they're dead. It's my fault they're dead. It's my fault they're all dead!"

Instinctively, Regulus knew he couldn't stay there and he stood up, staggering slightly, failing the first two times and succeeded the third, although he remained unsteady on his feet. He backed out of the house, slowly stepping down the steps of Grimmauld place before turning and following the railing to the right of the house, his hand gripping to the railing as guilt for getting his family killed now echoed as yet another regret in one of his hands.

As such, Regulus didn't notice when the railing ended as did the sidewalk, but he did hear the screeching of tires as a car braked. His eyes blinked, taking in the two Muggles who got out of the car. "Are you alright, hun?"

"Of course the boy's not alright. It looks like he's been mauled by some kind of creature, a dog perhaps." The man looked him in the eye and he adverted eye contact, swallowing in panic. "Was it a dog?"

"Poor thing's in shock. Better call an ambulance and the police," the woman said, although Regulus wasn't sure what that meant beyond the fact pulled out a cellphone which to him looked like a strange box which the man spoke into the box asking for an ambulance for some reason. He watched warily until two more of the strange metal contraptions showed up, but the flashing lights on top made him physically flinch. Two Muggles got out of the smaller contraption with matching uniforms while three Muggles came in the larger one, but one of them pulled out what looked like a portable cot from the back end.

Questions were asked. "Are you alright?"

He wanted to tell them someone already asked the question and that the answer was obvious, yet no words came out, but he'd managed to back himself up so he was against the last fenced area of Grimmauld allowing him to prop himself up.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

Regulus couldn't open his mouth to say anything so that right there was an answer, but then there were the laws ensuring magic remained secret along with the voices in his head telling him what a failure he was. His hand gripped one of the bars on the fence a little tighter.

"Look, kiddo, we're just trying to help you out. Where are your parents?"

Regulus was definitely not a child, but the mention of parents… he leaned up against the metal fence, hands lifting up to clap over his ears, but his eyes clamped shut in an attempt to prevent himself from crying in front of the Muggles. The voices in his head kept telling him the death of his family was in fact his fault, yet he heard through all of that the Muggles saying he didn't want to hurt himself.

Which felt strange given the pain which racked his entire body, what with how the Infiri attempted tearing him apart along with the painful effects both mentally and physically caused by the potion he drunk. He kept his eyes closed, trying to block out extra stimuli, knowing his magic going off accidentally would do nobody any good, but his sudden inability to speak meant not being able to cast a spell to obliviate memories, let alone being able to apparate way.

Not that he could obliviate the memories of what was now seven Muggles, particularly with how weak he felt.

"Look, we need to treat your injuries and get you to a hospital."

Regulus wasn't sure what happened next beyond the fact in the back of his mind he knew going to a Muggle hospital was a bad idea. His mother would kill him if she knew, Muggle hospitals couldn't treat magical maladies, yet there was the guilt of being the reason his family was all dead. The voices in his head got really loud, though he did hear someone asking that he not hurt himself over and over again, which he didn't understand the reason behind.

Eventually, the voices started quitting to a dull thud to the point he realized he was now on his back staring up at a bright light while a couple of Muggles looked down upon him, reminding him of a scary story Sirius once told him about Muggles abducting wards, but he also realized said Muggles cut away his clothing leaving him feeling highly exposed. One of the Muggles noticed his anxiety and squeezed told him yet again things would be okay, but escaping wasn't an option, what with how he was strapped down. His ears – they didn't like the loud noise which sounded very much like an alarm of some kind. He tried opening his mouth, only for the two to look at each other.

Wherever he was also moved, but when it stopped Regulus saw some doors opening up and whatever bed he found himself on being pulled out of the mobile room to the outside and into a much larger building.

"Patient appears to be fourteen and sixteen years of age," someone said, along with mentions of being attacked by a dog, how he was found soaking wet and might have hypothermia, but there also seemed to be dehydration on his part. A clear mask was placed over his mouth, his mind objecting to them getting his age wrong and that, for a while was the last thing he remembered.

When Regulus woke up, the voices telling him it was his fault his family died were back, while the other voices weren't; his mind still struggled with the fact his family, his parents were gone, but he, who wasn't supposed to be, was actually alive. Glancing around, he found himself in a hospital room but knew it wasn't a room at St. Mungos. The scratches from the Infiri were in fact bandaged up and something was attached to his arm which led up to some kind of bag. He still felt very thirsty.

Sitting up. His hand reached for the object, meaning to pull it from his arm when someone said, "don't do that."

He looked up and saw a man dressed in a white robe with a clipboard. Another person dressed in Muggle clothing was right behind him, carrying some items with them. Regulus opened his, mouth, but nothing came out.

"This here is a social worker."

Which of course didn't sound good in Regulus' mind, his mouth clamping shut tightly, but he found himself pulling back, so his knees were against his chest and his hands over his ears, not paying attention to the fact he only wore a robe and slippers.

"So, the issue here is we don't know anything about you," the social worker spoke up. They took a trey attached to the bed and swung it around so it was in front of him, placing papers and some colored sticks in front of him, making him wonder if they wanted him to do some kind of magic tricks for them.

He would not perform magic tricks.

"Can you draw a picture for me?"

The question of course confused Regulus as he watched them warily, but he was sure that, despite the fact they did treat his injuries, that they'd not treated them properly. He frowned, unsure of what he was supposed to draw a picture with.

"Here. Let me show you." The woman picked up one of the colored sticks and drew a horribly awful flower on the piece of paper. Regulus' eyes widened in surprise, his hand reaching for the color stick, only to hesitate. "You've not seen a crayon before?"

Regulus of course shook his head, his child self really wanting to mess around with the colored sticks, mentally cursing the fact his mother would most definitely kill him for having done so, for also being the reason they were all dead.

"You have permission to use the crayons, so can you draw a picture for us?"

"Why?" Shaking his head he pulled a piece of paper close to him, at first unsure of what to draw, but then the idea of what to draw popped into his head, one that felt childish, yet he couldn't open his mouth to say the name he so desperately wanted to say, so he decided to draw the person again.

A rather well-drawn picture of Kreacher appeared beloved sour face and all. The person calling themselves a social worker hummed in amusement. "Well, you certainly have quite the imagination on you, don't you." She then asked. "Does your friend have a name?"

In amusement, Regulus wrote down one word. The doctor's eyebrow lifted up. "So, the creature's name is Kreacher?"

"Can you draw us a picture of your family perhaps?"

That of course made Regulus push the trey away, but he shook his head before going back to covering his ears, wanting the Muggles to go away.

"I don't know if he's been abused or…"

Regulus' eyes blinked, realizing they were looking into whether he was some abused child. He pulled the trey back and on the paper, she drew the flower on, wrote the words, "no" then pushed it away again.

"Okay. Can you tell us where your parents…"

Regulus again went to cover his ears, not liking the voices which kept telling him it was his fault they were all dead, the memory of landing on top of the door which in his mind was obviously kicked in by the Death Eaters, though on a slight chance the ministry blew the door down; it was most likely Bella. The thought of his cousin made him squint his eyes closed. "I believe there might be some development issues, but we'd need to further evaluate."

Regulus' teeth gritted together, biting lightly at the tip of his tongue. In the back of his head, he definitely knew what that meant.