He couldn't see past the white that hung before his eyes, the white that reflected the different colours—red, orange, blue...

He couldn't look away. The colours absorbed the white in front of him and blinded him and his nose protested against the scents that filled it.

He couldn't move into a better position. His body was frozen, immovable. He was stuck, stuck as his ears hurt from the deafening sounds they picked up.

Everything turned green, everything went quiet.

Regulus opened his eyes, and the green wasn't gone. The green was a deeper colour than the green that had consumed him moments ago, but even this deep green had him fighting for his life.

He groped at the green until the soft texture registered in his brain. Curtains. Behind those curtains, a dark and hollow room he'd never seen before.

Panting heavily, he jumped out of the cold bed he'd been sitting on. The room was empty—except it wasn't. Four beds, not counting the empty one he lay in moments ago, stood in a simple row.

A dull and silent world. Not one that had the threat of Aurors, not one that was overly Muggle, but also not one that could offer him what he desired. There was no comfort here. It was a bleak prospect, knowing he'd spend the next seven years stuck in this place.

Calmer now, he went back to his bed. The curtains must've been made stronger with magic, for there wasn't a scratch on them despite his wild actions earlier. The green colour was more sympathetic than threatening at second glance—they resembled the curtains back at home in colour and texture and wondered if that's why their home had such curtains. The Blacks had been in Slytherin for ages, after all.

He sat back on the bed and it sent a wave of pain travelling from his mid-back to his knees. He must've pulled a muscle or something. He was glad to hear the distant ignoring of his dormmates, at least nobody had seen his dramatics. That would have been worse than anything else he could imagine—he'd rather be a Hufflepuff.

Hogwarts. It was very real all of a sudden. The Sorting last night, the grumpy prefect who showed them around the Common Room and had looked him straight in the eye when he stressed that no-one, under any circumstances, was to share either the location or the password to the Slytherin Common Room. Doing so would be considered the highest act of treason.

It all sounded dreadfully dramatic for a school. Still, he didn't intend to do anything that would get him in trouble, so he'd just have to seek out Sirius somewhere else.

Because that much was clear to him—he had to talk to him. They hadn't spoken since he ran out on him on the train.

He looked out of the window, the water on the other side reflecting what little sunlight there was above. It was still early, and it was Saturday. Would Sirius even be up yet? Perhaps he'd better wait for noon...

He decided to get dressed—not into his school robes, of course not; it was Saturday and the uniform was plain and ugly. No, he changed into the robes his grandmother had given him for his eleventh birthday, black ones with the family crest shining in gold embroidery on the back.

Everyone would know who he was within seconds.

He grabbed his quill-and-inkset and some parchment and left his snoring dormmates behind as he entered the Common Room, which was still completely deserted.

Was it really that early?

Perhaps he should go back, wait for his dormmates to wake up. Was that the way people socialised with strangers? But on the other hand, there wasn't anything wrong with being in the Common Room alone... was there?

It had been huge last night, but without students, the Common Room was simply massive. Unlike last night, there was no fire crackling under the mantelpiece and the only source of light came from the greenish lamps hanging from the ceiling.

He sat down at one of the dark wood tables and started on his letter home.

Dear Mother and Father,

I'm a Slytherin! The Welcome Feast was really great and I already love it here. I do not have friends (yet) but I'm sure I will soon. I will be careful of course so don't worry about that. Are you both well? I wish we spent more time together last summer. Please write back to me.

Love,

Regulus

"Good morning."

He nearly jumped out of his seat from the sudden noise, he hadn't even heard anyone come in!

The Bullface girl from last night – now in bright pink robes that hurt his eyes – smiled apologetically at him. "I didn't mean to startle you," she said. "I'm Rosalinda Bulstrode."

Well that was disappointing. Bullface from last night wasn't as aptly named after her appearance as he had thought. "Oh, er... Regulus," he said, shaking her hand, "Regulus Black."

"May I sit?"

But she already pulled the chair next to him and sat down before he could answer, so he didn't say anything. Maybe this was how people made friends?

"Who are you writing? Oh, your parents-"

"That's private," he said, shielding his still drying letter with his hand. Was the concept of privacy a Black thing?

"Sorry."

Regulus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. What was the proper way to go about talking to new people? Especially new people who were girls. He couldn't spoil this now, not when she might become his very first friend.

"Shoo!"

Narcissa came running towards them, waving with her hands as if at a cat. "Shoo, get lost!"

Rosalinda Bulstrode (not Bullface) hastily got up from the chair and rushed back in the direction of the girls' dormitories.

He glared at Narcissa, who sat down where the girl had been sitting moments ago. That was his friend she chased off!

"You're welcome," she said.

"We were just talking."

She shook her head. "It's never 'just talking' with that lot—desperate, they are. Their parents, at least. I caught them talking about you yesterday, they're under orders to befriend you."

"Orders?"

"From home. Some parents think they are matchmakers."

"Oh." Example one of girls being the strangest creatures on the planet Earth.

"What do you say we get some food?"

"I don't remember the way back to the Great Hall... or what time breakfast is... or anything, really."

"Well, lucky for you, this is my seventh year doing this. I remember a couple of things from the previous years," she smiled. "Come on, and then we'll get that letter of yours posted."

He got up from the chair and rolled up his letter, stashing it in his robe pocket. He rushed back to the dorm to put his quill and ink away and met his cousin by the door leaving the common room.

"Ready?"

He followed her out of the dungeons, up to the Great Hall and was very relieved he had her to help him out with these things. Once more his mind went to Sirius, last year, all alone in Gryffindor with nobody to help him... oh, he must've felt so lost. No wonder he sought the help of others, even if those others were questionable beings.

They entered the Great Hall and sat down near the doors. There were a couple of other people eating quietly, but Sirius wasn't there yet. It could wait. Surely his brother would come eat breakfast sometime. He just wouldn't leave until he did.

Whilst he ate his breakfast, Narcissa was filling him in on the details—Herbology was out on the grounds, Potions was in the dungeons, Charms was all the way up on the seventh floor, and so on. She told him about the different teachers (some of which he had seen at the feast yesterday), how she was doing NEWT Transfiguration and her teacher was the same emerald-robed witch who had let them in last night: Professor McGonagall.

She was the Head of Gryffindor House (theirs was Slughorn, who taught Potions) and ridiculously strict. To make it worse, she kept forcing Narcissa to pair up with mudbloods last year. He really didn't like the sound of that teacher, so it was a relief to hear she only really taught NEWT level. He made a mental note not to take that class when the doors to the Hall opened and Sirius walked by.

"Psst! Sirius!"

His brother looked up and grimaced, but kept walking.

"Sirius," he hissed again. "Sirius, please."

"What?" His brother spat, turning around. "What do you want from me?"

"I want to talk..."

"What would a perfect little Slytherin like yourself want to talk about with such a horrible, disappointing Gryffindor like myself?"

Regulus jumped to his feet and Cissy grabbed his arm. "Regulus!"

He shook her off. "I have to talk to him."

He ran after his brother, who was still steadily walking towards Gryffindor table. He caught up with him at Hufflepuff and grabbed his arm. "Sirius! I have to talk to you!"

"What?!"

"I'm sorry, OK? I'm sorry. About all this. Just talk to me. Please."

"Save your breath. You've chosen your side."

"What do you even mean by that?!"

"You could've chosen Gryffindor like I did but instead you're off gossiping with dear Cissy, aren't you?"

"I'm not gossiping, I'm not a girl!"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "You might as well be, you milksoppish pansy!"

"I'm not-"

Sirius gave him a shove and yelled: "Then why didn't you choose Gryffindor?!"

The entire Great Hall fell silent at once, their eyes burning into his back. Two Blacks fighting each other, wonderful show! There were only about a dozen people there, but that was a dozen too many.

Sirius, however, didn't seem to care.

"WE COULD'VE BEEN TOGETHER!"

He backed away from his brother and saw there were several students gathering around them, which only heightened his discomfort as Sirius went on. It reminded him of Mother's outburst a few months ago, and that frightened him.

"YOU'RE JUST AS BAD AS THE REST OF THEM!"

He couldn't help himself. Not really. If he wouldn't listen to reason... "At least I'm not friends with Mudbloods," he said coolly, and that caused Sirius to stop yelling, snort, shake his head and walk away from the Gryffindor table.

He couldn't go after him. It happened before he could register what was going on—his face swelled up and his skin was burning. His eyes were shut by the swollen skin around them and his body was forced to the floor. He couldn't think, he couldn't move—there were screams, yelling, and he was shivering on the floor, curled up in a tight ball, trying desperately to stop what was happening. There were flashes of all sorts of different colours flying before his closed eyes, going towards him. He fell, his body threatening to tear itself apart as the flashes grew more frequent and brighter and he went blind as a flash of green ended his pains.

Was he dead?

He was levitated, or maybe this was what ghosts felt like. The sounds had died out but now there were footsteps, whispers. A stern voice saying something his ears didn't pick up on. He was tired, so tired...

Regulus' eyes snapped open. The plain white walls surrounding him were closing in on him, suffocating him and made the room feel smaller than it was. It was as if he was submerged in water, his senses distant and his memories just out of reach.

Everything went back to black as he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, everything came back in full force—his head was throbbing, but no longer swollen. His vision was clear as day and he saw his brother's lips move before he heard the words: "you're awake!"

He was lying in a bed with white linen sheets. He propped himself up in a sitting position and managed a slight smile.

"Moron," Sirius said, plopping back on the chair to his right.

"That's not nice," he croaked.

"Neither is saying Mudblood."

He didn't have the strength to argue with him. Sirius was too brainwashed to listen anyway. Father was right. Gryffindor was dangerous.

"How's he supposed to know the entire student population would throw a fit?"

He turned his head, seeing Cissy on his left, coming to his defence.

"It's ridiculous," she went on. "Two years in a row I have to spend the entire morning sitting in a hospital wing looking after you two because others can't behave."

"They did overreact," Sirius agreed. "But with everything going on..."

Regulus just lay there, his head was pounding and it was hard to think, and this arguing didn't make it any better.

"Nonsense. We're in school. Especially boys your age shouldn't be concerning yourselves with that sort of things, and older students should know better than to attack a first-year over a silly word."

"It's not just a silly word though, is it, Cissy? It's very much a serious word!"

This was too much for him now. "Can you argue somewhere else? My head hurts."

Thankfully, this seemed to make them shut up, and he sank back into a deep sleep.

When he next woke up, Sirius and Narcissa were gone.

He groaned and checked his watch. It was nearly time for supper. Had he really slept all day? He hadn't even had a proper conversation with Sirius!

All trace of previous hurt or exhaustion was gone now so he slowly got out of the bed, grabbed his wand from the table and was nearly at the door when he was called back by the matron.

"But I'm hungry!"

"You need rest."

"I need food. I'm starving."

"You can eat here," she said stiffly.

"But-"

"Mr Black, in bed, now."

He had to admit defeat and hobbled back to the bed. This was worse than getting beat up. He ate the porridge Madam Pomfrey called supper and lay in bed some more, 'resting'.

He woke up the following morning to the sound of a door slamming shut and nondescript whispering. He blinked a few times, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Right. He was in his bed in the Slytherin dormitory. Madam Pomfrey had allowed him to leave at half past six last night and somehow, he'd actually found his way back to the Common Room.

"He's asleep," he heard someone say. "I just checked."

"So what do we do?" someone else asked.

"We should go to what's-his-name, ask to change dorms..." that was the first voice again.

"And leave others to deal with Mr. Bigotry? That's just mean," said the second.

"But he could kill us," a third person added in a quavering voice. "He's a Black, he's dangerous like that."

A Black? He was a Black... it made him feel weird. He hadn't had people talking about him like this before.

The foor creaked open again and slammed shut.

A fourth voice. "Slughorn isn't in his office."

A collective groan followed, and the third voice added: "Great. Now we're dead."

"Such dramatics," said the fourth voice.

Regulus wished he could see through the curtains around his bed, he wished he could see the dormmates that wanted to get rid of him. Wasn't he supposed to go here and make friends? Wasn't school supposed to be a fun time? Yet he was stuck with dormmates who wanted him gone. Just his luck.

"Well you have nothing to fear, do you?" the third voice argued loudly.

"Shut up," said the fourth voice, "you'll wake him."

Silence. Regulus squeezed his eyes shut as he heard footsteps approach his bed. He heard the curtains open, he felt the breath of someone leaning over him...

"Black," said the person in his ear, "we know you're awake, your face is all funny."

He didn't answer, hoping he'd just go away, think he was mistaken, or something. He didn't want to talk to them. They were stupid and talked about him behind his back and wanted to get rid of him by asking for a change in dorms.

"Black this is the least convincing fake sleep I've ever seen," the boy said again, a bit farther away from his ear this time.

But Regulus didn't give up. He'd go away. He'd leave him alone if he tried hard enough, he was sure of it.

"Mental, that one," said the first voice.

"I heard they're all insane, those Blacks," said the third voice.

"Well I don't know about that, but this one is, at least," agreed the second.

There were footsteps moving away from him. The door creaked open and slammed shut again and he opened his eyes.

"Good morning, Black."

Be stared right into the hazel eyes belonging to the boy he'd tried to speak to at the Sorting. Avery. He was the fourth voice.

He mumbled a 'good morning' in response, hoping he didn't seem too upset.

"Now, now... didn't your parents teach you not to mumble? Tut-tut, how disappointing."

Regulus just stared at him. Avery laughed.

"You may think you're all tough getting beat up on your first day, but I know you. I know your family."

"You do not know my family," Regulus said, coming back from his initial shock. "Whatever you heard, you don't know them."

"Oh but I do," he said, "you see, my father says your parents are cowards-"

"They're not cowards!"

The boy laughed again. Regulus did not like that laugh. He hadn't said anything funny, and the laugh didn't sound very genuine. It was almost like he was laughed at. Surely it couldn't be? Had he done anything to make himself the laughing stock? No. So it had to be something else.

"Oh but they are. Hiding away like they do... tut-tut," the boy went again, shaking his head with that same sickening smile on his face.

"What do you want?" he said, trying to sound tough.

"Awk, look at you. I just want to talk. The others, they're scared, you see. They've heard rumours and think you'll jump them for being halfblood."

"They're halfbloods?!" he didn't even try to hide the disgust from his voice. He shared his dorm with halfbloods. He'd share his dorm with halfbloods for seven long years. Suddenly he didn't mind them trying to swap dorms any more—he wanted them to. He needed them to. He couldn't live with halfbloods...

Avery cackled. "See? You don't even know anything! You couldn't hurt them even if you wanted to. No, you're cute, Black. Almost like a toddler, just more stupid."

"I'm not stupid!"

Avery just shook his head. "See you around, Black," he said as he went over to the door, "and here's some advice your parents couldn't be bothered to give you: don't act tough unless you're willing to play the part."

He left, and Regulus stared at the door in confusion. That was the longest conversation he had ever had with anyone new... and it was also the most confusing conversation he had had with anyone at all. What was all that acting tough about?

He sighed and got ready for the day, dressing again in robes that proudly displayed his family's crest, and met Narcissa in the Common Room.

"Ready?"

They left the Common Room for the Great Hall, just as they had yesterday.

She put a protective arm around his shoulders and guided him to the Slytherin table, where she sat him in between herself and some other seventh years. Regulus could feel the glares from many of his own and the other house tables—the news of yesterday's squabble must've travelled fast. He just couldn't understand why everyone cared so much about him and his brother fighting.

He ate his breakfast in silence, thinking about Hogwarts so far. Beaten up, halfbloods to share a dorm with... it's almost as if his parents sent him here as punishment.

The Slytherins around him discussed their days, expressed their excitement about classes starting tomorrow (and their sadness, because this was their last year). At least they seemed to largely ignore him and Narcissa instead of glaring at them.

After breakfast, she guided him back out of the hall. "Let's get that letter of yours posted," she said.

Right. The letter. "It's still in the dorm..."

"Let's go get it, then."

He shook his head. "I never want to go back there."

"Why not?"

"I share my dorm with... with halfbloods," he said, barely getting the word out.

"I used to," she mused, "of course, Bella was great help."

"Can't we ask her to come back here?"

She chuckled. "Bella has bigger things on her mind nowadays, Regulus. Even you must know that."

"I know... I just don't want to have to live with... with... with that."

"You're at Hogwarts now. It's unfortunate, but the headmaster still won't listen to reason and keeps inviting filth into this school. Be glad you're in Slytherin, the other houses have it far worse."

He didn't want to be glad to be in Slytherin for that. If even Slytherin was infected then they had to make a new house, easy as that. Expecting people like him to share dorms with halfbloods, ha! Or maybe they could separate them by blood status instead of traits. That could work. Purebloods in Slytherin, halfbloods in Ravenclaw... Mudbloods in Hufflepuff, of course. And let's get rid of Gryffindor altogether. That way Sirius had no other option but to join him in Slytherin. Perfect.

"Come on. Let's get your letter."

Begrudgingly, he followed her back to the Common Room. A few students glared at them along the way.

"Why's everyone acting like this?"

They stepped through the hole. "Nevermind that," she said. "They're not worth your time."

"But I want to know. I need to know."

She shook her head. "You're too young..."

"I'm eleven."

She smiled. "You are too young," she repeated.

"Old enough to get jumped on..."

"That was wrong. Even the teachers thought as much."

"Even? Why wouldn't they think so?!"

"Don't worry about that," she said, waving it away as if she hadn't said a thing.

"Stop saying that!"

"Just get your letter. You're causing a scene—again."

"We're the only ones in here!"

"Not if you keep acting like an overgrown baby."

"I'm not a baby!"

"Yes, you are."

"I hate you!"

She remained calm. "You don't mean that."

"I do! You don't even tell me anything! You had Sirius all summer and you won't even tell me how he's doing!"

"You're-"

"I'm not a baby!" he cried before she could say anything. "I'm NOT!"

She flung her arms around his neck, drawing him in close as the tears kept falling from his eyes, rolling down his cheeks. He let them fall, clinging onto her. He missed Mother, he missed Father. He missed Sirius and Kreacher, too. He missed the way things smelt back at home, missed the familiar aura of his parents' magic.

Narcissa and Sirius were all he had left here, and Sirius wasn't even acting like himself. Nobody wanted to tell him anything about what happened last summer. He just wanted things to go back to normal. He just needed things to be OK again.

"Shhh..." Cissy hushed him gently rocking him.

"I want to go home..." he whispered against her robes.

"I know. I know... it's not easy being away from home like this." She pulled back and wiped away his tears. "You'll be OK."

He swallowed hard and nodded. "I'll get my letter."