Regulus Black

The Great Hall buzzed with the usual morning chatter, the clinking of cutlery against plates, and the occasional laughter ringing through the air. Regulus Black sat at the Slytherin table, his gaze wandering idly across the room as he listened half-heartedly to the conversations around him.

Who is she? The question struck him like a sudden bolt of lightning, freezing him in place as his eyes settled on a figure near the Gryffindor table. She was surrounded by a diverse group of students, her voice carrying through the air with a lightness that drew every ear. Yet, she seemed entirely oblivious to the attention she commanded, her focus solely on the conversation she was engaged in.

Her words flowed effortlessly, captivating those around her as if each syllable were a charm cast to ensnare the senses. Merlin, Regulus thought, his heart inexplicably quickening. She's the most beautiful person I've ever seen. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, entranced by the way she moved, the subtle gestures of her hands, and the way her eyes sparkled with life.

But there was something else, something that gnawed at him, a familiarity he couldn’t quite place. She’s not new, but... why can’t I remember her? He leaned forward, trying to catch more of her words, hoping a stray detail would unlock the mystery. Unable to shake his curiosity, he leaned closer to Evan Rosier, who was sitting beside him, poking at his breakfast with little enthusiasm. “Who is she?” Regulus whispered, his voice laced with a subtle urgency that caught even him by surprise.

Evan looked up, following Regulus's gaze before scoffing, a sneer twisting his lips. “Some Mudblood,” he spat out dismissively, as if the very thought of her was beneath him. “Not important enough to know her name.”

Mudblood. The word hit Regulus like a physical blow, and for a brief moment, his heart seemed to stop. The realization settled in, heavy and cold, as the conflicting emotions tore at him. Of course. Of course, the first woman I feel anything for would have to be a Muggleborn. The thought was bitter, laced with the venomous teachings ingrained in him since childhood. Yet, something within him recoiled at the idea, a part of him that was revolted by his own prejudice.

The tension in his chest tightened, constricting his breath as he watched her laugh at something one of the students said. The sound was light, melodic, completely at odds with the storm brewing inside him. I can’t... this can’t happen.

His decision was made before he even realized it. Regulus stood abruptly, ignoring the curious looks from his housemates as he strode toward her. The crowd around her parted as if sensing his intent, and he wasted no time, grabbing her by the shoulder with more force than he intended, spinning her to face him.

She looked up at him in surprise, but Regulus couldn’t meet her eyes. The words tumbled out of his mouth, harsh and unforgiving, as he pressed her against the wall, his hand still gripping her shoulder. “Stop drawing so much attention to yourself,” he hissed, the venom in his voice masking the conflict tearing him apart inside. “It’s a dangerous world for Mudbloods like you.”

He could feel her tense beneath his grip, but he didn’t dare look at her face, didn’t want to see the hurt he knew he’d caused. I have to leave, I can’t stay here, I can’t look at her. The shame and self-loathing were almost unbearable, and before she could respond, before he could give in to the urge to apologize, Regulus turned on his heel and stormed out of the Great Hall, his heart pounding painfully in his chest.

The moment he stepped outside, the cool air hit him, but it did nothing to quell the turmoil raging within. He felt as though he were suffocating, the weight of his actions pressing down on him like a boulder. What have I done? The question echoed in his mind, relentless and unforgiving. All he wanted to do was go back, to apologize, to take back the cruel words he’d spoken. But he was a Black, and she was a Muggleborn a Mudblood. The lines were drawn, and he was trapped within them.

Why did it have to be her? The thought haunted him as he leaned against the cold stone wall, the coolness seeping into his skin as he tried to calm his racing heart. Why did it have to be her?