Monday was off to a rough start. He was still mad at Narcissa and didn't wait for her. He could find the Great Hall by himself.
He didn't sit with Narcissa or the seventh-years, and the burning glares from everyone else were almost too much to bear. The nerves – today was his first day of classes – drowned out any appetite and he hadn't even touch the food when he saw Professor Slughorn moving along the Slytherin table, handing them their timetables.
The professor lingered hesitantly before handing him his timetable, his eyes burning with suspicion but the teacher said nothing and moved on. Regulus did not like him. Not one bit.
He looked at his timetable and sighed. He better get his books.
He got up, but a loud flapping and hooting let him know the post had arrived. Looking up confirmed this suspicion, for hundreds of owls came swooping in, circling the tables. Some carried letters, others packages—the post was swiftly dropped into their laps.
He caught one of four letters, the others dropped onto the table. One of them fell into a bowl of porridge.
He sat back down and gathered his letters, trying his best to wipe the porridge off the parchment with a napkin.
"Is that even sanitary?"
The boy to his left looked at the porridge-letter in disgust and Regulus stuffed in into the pocket of his robes. Sure, it was a bit dirty, but it wasn't as if he was planning on eating the letter.
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"Owls... flying overhead... at breakfast."
"What did you expect? For the owls to walk in through the doors?" He laughed at the mental image of swarms of owls hopping through the corridors.
But the boy didn't seem to appreciate his joke. "Why not just get a postman?"
"A what?"
"It's a man... who delivers post?"
He rolled his eyes. That much was obvious, but that seemed like a lot of work. Who would want to deliver post? To be degraded to do the work of owls... even Squibs were above that, and that was saying something.
He looked across the Hall and saw many people express similar views—some flinched back upon seeing the owls, others ducked beneath the table with their plates. Many shielded their plates as if the owls would poo all over them. Had they never got post before? The way some looked at the owls it was almost as if they hadn't even seen owls before.
How did they get their post? Those mysterious postmen? He shook his head—no, that was impossible. There wouldn't be enough men willing to deliver post to cover all the people here with strange reactions to the owls.
So that left them never getting post at all. Never sending post. But why?
Maybe they couldn't write. That seemed to be the mostplausible of options. They were likely halfbloods, or even Mudbloods... their Muggle blood must've messed with their literacy. It was sad, in a way, having to be related to Muggles through no fault of their own. Having to deal with the consequences such as not being able to read or write...
Was that pity he felt? For Muggle spawn? He got back to his feet and left the Great Hall. Hogwarts was dangerous indeed.
Back in his dorm, he first gathered his supplies, then took out the letters. His first post at Hogwarts, wasn't it exciting?
Dear Regulus,
Thank you for your letter. Your mother and I are delighted to hear that you made it to Slytherin; it is a family tradition, after all. Say hello to Professor Slughorn for us, will you? How is he these days? Has he still got his little club? I used to love his Christmas parties...
How is Sirius? Keep an eye on your older brother, please. He refuses to write to us, but he might confide in you.
Your mother and I are truly, very happy for you, Regulus. Write back to us soon.
Love,
Your parents.
He sighed and dropped the letter on his bed. They wanted to know about his stupid teacher and his brother. Not a word of 'how are you?', 'what do you think of Hogwarts?', or 'do you want to come home?'. Stupid school, stupid parents. They didn't even answer his questions. He'd write to them about how horrible this place was, see what they'd say then—but not now. He had limited time before his very first lesson would start and he couldn't afford to be late.
He opened the second letter and instantly smiled—Bellatrix had written to him!
Hello there cousin,
You're a real student now! Welcome to the best House. I'll be sure to send some sweets over when I get the chance.
Do your best in school, try and have some fun, and I'll see you at Christmas.
Xxx Bella
He read the letter over again. Bellatrix, sending him sweets? That was just too good to be true.
Oh, how he missed her. Her and everyone else... His other two letters were his grandparents', of both sides, with more of the same: congratulating him on making it to Slytherin, promises of sweets and more letters, and a 'good luck' on his studies.
None of them showed any interest in his wellbeing. He wanted to write to them all, maybe even send a Howler (after figuring out how to), to tell them how mad he was at them for this. To beg Mother and Father to homeschool him and Sirius.
But he did none of that. He had lessons to attend, and knew his homeschooling request would never be granted anyway. Mother and Father had enough reasons not to send them here as it was, but still... Hogwarts was supposedly best.
He got his bag and managed to find the Transfiguration classroon. He sat down at the front so he'd have a clear view of the teacher—a young woman in her late twenties who introduced herself as Professor Manning.
"I'll be your Transfiguration P-Professor..." she said, looking around the classroom with bug, wide eyes.
Several students sniggered, one of the students even yelled across the classroom: "Are you sure, Miss?"
"Y-yes, yes, I'm sure... erm... if you'll all just..." 'Professor' Manning's voice trailed off as she fidgeted with her long blonde hair.
Avery, who sat next to him, raised his hand. "Miss, can you-"
"Erm..." Manning looked around the classroom. "It's Mrs, o-or actually-"
"No way you're married, you ain't fooling us, Miss," one the other boys chuckled.
"Please, children, this is my first day-"
Regulus rolled his eyes. Just his luck that as he started Hogwarts, he was stuck with some new teacher who had no idea what was going on. And Transfiguration had been such a promising subject. What a shame. She probably wasn't even pureblood, not a proper one at least. He'd never heard that name before, Manning.
The rest of the lesson consisted of her trying to tell them what Transfiguration was, and the class making fun of her. So much for a promising start to his school life.
The day went on and the week passed by and before he knew it, it was the weekend again. And Regulus was pissed off—his teachers were abhorrent.
Professor Manning was, by far, the worst of the bunch. She was incapable of normal speech and she never got any teaching done at all, because she allowed the class to make fun of her instead of focusing on Transfiguration.
History of Magic was the next-worst, but it was close. Professor Binns was dead. Seriously. At first he had been excited to hear it was taught by a ghost but all excitement had disappeared the second Binns started mindlessly droning on in such a manner he managed to make goblin rebellions sleep-inducing. To make it worse, all four houses shared the class and Binns didn't seem capable to keep them apart in name or house: Slytherins gained 15 points for Gryffindor in one lesson, and a Hufflepuff lost Ravenclaw 5. Not to mention the ghost's inability to remember names—he was 'Ronald Billywig'... really?
Surely there were better teachers for hire than a dead man who couldn't even remember their names? Even his Charms teacher – the middle-aged Professor Briseis – was hardly a teacher at all since he just had them reading the textbook the entire lesson, but that was better than whatever Binns thought he was doing.
No, it was clear that Muggle-loving excuse of a headmaster had different things on his mind than actually running a school—didn't his parents say he was the one in charge of that Phoenix Order? That explained it. The headmaster was busy going after innocent families and what better way of doing that than making sure their children received a sub-standard education?
This was all one giant scheme, he was sure of it. What else could explain that Professor Williams, the Herbology teacher, seemed more oblivious about the plants she taught about than the first-years in her class? What else could explain that Potions was nothing but Professor Slughorn bragging about former students whilst Professor Cres (a young man meant to replace Slughorn once he finally decided to retire) stood in the back dying of boredom?
What else could explain that Astronomy was taught in the middle of the night with all four houses crammed together in the tower, listening to Professor Byrne trying to explain something about stars and planets that weren't even visible in the sky at that time? He had been so excited about Astronomy because it was the source of all their names... that made the disappointment hit worse that it probably should've, because nothing at Hogwarts was the way it should've been.
He was the model student, yes, even if his teachers seemed to disagree, and yet... they didn't pay attention to him. They didn't look over his shoulder to see if he was making progress, they didn't help him improve his wand-work one-on-one like he deserved—he was treated as if he was nothing more than a lowly Mudblood trying to figure things out for the first time and he was anything but! It made his blood boil just thinking about it. If this wasn't enough to be homeschooled...
He wrote all this in a letter, a letter he was about to post when he bumped into his brother, quite literally.
"Watch it, firstie!" Sirius called.
Regulus snorted. "Firstie? Really?"
"Oh—it's you."
"Yes, it's me."
"Well... still, watch where you're going. Speaking of, where are you going?"
He waved his letter. "Owlery."
"Ah, bragging to the parents again, I see."
"Not bragging. Just talking."
"Slytherins don't 'just talk'."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You always do things for a reason. What's your reason? What do you want?"
He felt himself go red. "I want to go home," he admitted. Surely Sirius would understand? Surely he'd agree the quality of education here was absolutely horrible?
But he didn't. He just shook his head and laughed.
Regulus pushed past him. He wasn't worth his time if he laughed at him like that. It wasn't nice.
"Oh, come on, Reg! It's funny!" Sirius hurried after him, up the steps towards the Owlery.
"It's not."
"It kinda is, though. Was your first week really that bad?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact—it was!"
He quickened his pace but Sirius was faster and caught up with him. "Reg-"
"No!" He ran faster, taking two steps at a time as he continued on to the Owlery. He didn't want to talk to someone who laughed at him for having a rough first week.
"Reg, just talk to me!" Sirius called after him and he pushed back the tears that threatened to fall. Talk to him? Talk to him?!
He reached the Owlery and darted between the owls to find a good one.
"Reg!"
"Just shut up!" he called back as he handed his letter to one of the school owls. It flew away.
"No," Sirius said. They stood face-to-face now and it reminded him awfully much of last week.
"Do you really want to fight again?" Regulus asked, "wasn't last week enough?"
"You can't be mad at me for that."
"Why not? You didn't help me!"
"You were asking for it."
"I wasn't!"
"You were! You can't just say Mudblood all willy-nilly like that, you're not at home. Even if you were ag home you shouldn't be saying that."
"Why not?"
Sirius' grasped his own hair in frustration. "Are you thick? It's a nasty word, Reg, honestly!"
"Everyone uses it."
"No, they don't. Only bad people say that."
"I'm not bad, Mother's not-"
"Oh, Mother's very bad," Sirius said. "The whole family is."
"You have no idea what you're talking about."
Sirius laughed grimly. "I don't know what I'm talking about? That's rich. You weren't there last summer. Don't tell me I don't know what I'm talking about."
He didn't say anything to that. He just stared at his brother. What had happened last summer? Whatever it was, he didn't recognise his brother.
"Yeah, thought as much," Sirius muttered and turned to walk away.
"Wait..."
"What?" he snapped back.
"I want to talk to you more..."
"What's there to talk about?"
He shrugged. "We always used to talk when we were little."
"Things were different back then."
"They don't have to be."
"They are," he said firmly, "you made them so when you chose Slytherin."
Tears pricked his eyes again. "I didn't choose anything. The Hat did."
Sirius crossed his arms and glared at the floor. "If you could, would you join Gryffindor?"
No. "Maybe."
"Liar."
"But you're my brother... it shouldn't matter I'm not in Gryffindor..."
"It does, though, doesn't it? It mattered to you when I was Sorted into Gryffindor. Don't be a hypocrite and say I can't be bummed about your Sorting."
"But we can still talk! I rarely see you any more."
"Gryffindors and Slytherins don't hang out at school. You know that."
"But you're my brother!" he protested again. "Our bond can't be broken, remember? You said that!"
Sirius didn't meet his eye. "I have to go," he said, "my friends are waiting for me."
Regulus was one of the first students there for his History of Magic class. He wasn't all too sure why he still bothered to show up, considering he used it mainly as naptine, but there he was. Not going to class would make him look bad.
Regulus picked a seat in the front row as he always did. It was easier to focus in the front, and he was less likely to be bothered. Most pupils preferred to sit in the back.
His dormmates (aside from Avery, who sat down on his right with a grin) fought for seats as far away from him as possible. The way they looked at him as he watched them rushing through the classroom, their faces filled with nothing less than contempt... it made him curious more than anything. Whatever had he done to warrant such treatment? They had disliked him from the start for no good reason! Of course, he gladly returned their glares, but at least he had a good reason to do so; he had no intention of getting cosy with halfbloods.
That was why he hadn't befriended them, after all. He just didn't understand why they hadn't tried to befriend him. Not that he wanted such friends, oh no—why would he be friendly with filthy halfbloods? Why would he even spare them a second thought? But he was a Black. They should have been kneeling at his feet begging him to talk to them, at the least.
But even Avery didn't like him, so all hope was lost.
Binns took roll call and it was amusing as ever to hear what he made of the names this time. It was almost the highlight of the day. Almost.
Dipping his quill into the inkwell, he doodled on the parchment in front of him, drawing nothing in particular as he listened to the chatter around him, from other students who were clearly just as fed up with the drones of a teacher who, again, was wholly unfit to be a teacher.
"What are you writing?"
He looked to his left to see the bull-faced Bulstrode girl trying to look at his doodles.
He shrugged and wanted to say he wasn't writing anything, just drawing, really, when he saw his drawings had turned into words.
Sirius.
Avery, to his right, let out a giggle. "Looks like he's in love!"
In love with his brother? That was ridiculous. He was about to say as much when he noticed something else—half blotted under the continuing pressure of the quill on the parchment, beneath the ink stain, he was sure it read Andromeda.
"Is that your girlfriend's name?" Bulstrode asked, and Avery laughed again.
The walls were closing in on him. Andromeda and Sirius. Why were they on his mind at all?! Andromeda shouldn't be on his mind ever!
His breathing quickened and he couldn't think of another way to fix it, to erase Andromeda's name especially, so he 'accidentally' knocked over his inkwell, spilling the ink all over the parchment. He was only just able to save his wand which lay half across the page.
Only when it was covered in ink did he let out his breath and the world cleared up a bit. "Oops."
"You're weird," Bulstrode said. Avery just laughed.
Regulus didn't mind. He had bigger things to deal with, such as him not thinking about And—her ever again. She was not worthy of his thoughts. As for Sirius, well, he'd just have to talk to his brother again, try and make amends. That would work.
He stuck out his tongue in the most mature way possible, and focused on cleaning up the mess he had made.
After Binns finally shut up and the class came to an end, Regulus ran out of the room to the Hogwarts grounds. Sirius often hung out with his friends outside, so it was the best place to try and find him.
He caught him and that horrible Potter at the Whomping Willow tree, trying to avoid its branches and reach the trunk... incredibly dangerous, of course. It didn't get more Gryffindor than that.
"Sirius?" he called out once Sirius was at a safe distance away from the tree again.
"What?" he snapped, not even looking up.
"Can we talk?"
"We spoke like two days ago."
"I just miss you."
Sirius didn't answer. He watched Potter dive beneath one of the branches which swatted at him, narrowly missing him. Unfortunately. "Go make your own friends."
"But-"
"Just leave!"
He balled his fists. Fine. If Sirius wanted him to leave, he'd leave. He went back to the Common Room, stomping as he did. He sat down at the table and got his inkwell and quill from his bag.
Dear Mother
Sirius is best friends with that Potter boy whose parents tried to take him for the summer.
There. He'd add onto it any time Sirius did something bad, see who would be laughing at the end of the year!
Weekends were the worst. It allowed far too much room for thought. The rest of the week had passed and his opinion on the teachers wasn't any different than before—they were still the same incompetent bunch as they had been the first week. Sirius avoided him and he avoided Narcissa... so he was all alone.
Well, he could always count on Avery to pester him about one thing or another. It had become routine by now—any time he was working on homework, Avery would sit next to him and be annoying. Sometimes he'd drip ink all over the page, other times he'd hide his textbooks. Most often, though, he'd just laugh about how bad his essays were.
Bulstrode and her friends Morgan Stretton and Emily Mather all tried to get his attention, in which her friends were even more annoying than Bulstrode herself. Didn't they understand that he wasn't interested in talking to them? He wasn't interested in talking to anyone. He didn't know half the people in his year and he was happy about that, couldn't they see? Those people weren't worthy of his attention—most were likely halfbloods or something. Besides, he'd leave this school soon enough. No need to get attached to people when he wasn't planning on sticking around.
Mother and Father might not care about letters, but there was no way he was returning to school after the Christmas holidays.