Fic: Regulus Arc Snippet
Finally, more Regulus Arc Regulus. Or at least a snippet.
A number of people have protested RA Regulus' re-Sort into Gryffindor, saying that they thought the tension of having a decent Reg in Slytherin would be much better than placing him in a house where he can live happily ever after.
People! You should know me better! Me, give Regulus a happily ever after life? ::very evil grin::
Gryffindor itself creates enormous problems. So do the other third years. So does Regulus, just by being Regulus. This is NOT going to be easy for the boy.
Here's Regulus, alone in the third-year Gryffindor dorm, thinking about the difficulties and consequences of the re-Sort:
***
Regulus later calculated how long he'd been pleased to be re-Sorted into Gryffindor, and came to the conclusion that he'd been happy for about an hour--the duration of the January feast. After that…well, after that, there had been a party in Gryffindor, during which he'd been eyed suspiciously and largely been ignored, and during which Sirius was outed as a homosexual by a hostile ex-girlfriend.
It was not, perhaps, the most auspicious of beginnings.
And the auspices did not improve. Quite the contrary.
By the time that Regulus had gone to bed--and Sirius had dropped by the third-year dorm to give his little brother some extremely well-meant counsel as well as a welcoming hug--Regulus had managed to piece together a picture of his new house. It was so alien that he might as well have landed on another planet.
One of the biggest changes was to the sanguinary breakdown of Gryffindor. In Slytherin, he'd been one of a number of purebloods--not a particularly well-liked pureblood, but nevertheless acknowledged to be the bearer of an illustrious family name. Now…well, he was the only pureblood in Gryffindor's third year. The others were all halfbloods and Muggleborns.
His new year-mates would think that matters of purity of blood were quite unimportant. Regulus acknowledged that. He also knew that they were dead wrong. It was going to matter, and in ways he didn't want to think about.
Socialising, for instance. Regulus was sure that halfbloods and Muggleborns did...well, Muggle things together, even if he didn't know what those things were. Since his birth, his own social contacts had been limited to family gatherings, holidays such as Christmas, and his cousins' birthday parties. Aside from a few brief conversations with Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, he'd never spoken to a halfblood. And he'd never spoken to a Muggleborn. Well, he couldn't very well speak to any of them, could he? Quite apart from anything else, he didn't know any.
The upshot was that he had no idea what non-purebloods talked about, or did for amusement. He'd heard a few of the Gryffs talking about "sinny-ma" and "telly," but the words had no meaning. Not for him.
He'd heard a few of them trading other odd terms. West End. TARDIS. Fanzine. Morris Minor. Double-oh-seven. It was a whole different language, and Regulus doubted that he could ever learn to speak it. I'm going to need a professional translator just to say 'Hello.'
And then there was the small matter of class. Not to be mean about it, but even if he didn't always like his parents or his cousins, they--and he--were a cut above the rest of the human race. They were the elite, the best, the crème de la crème. They were Blacks, after all.
A simple fact that none of the Gryffindors seemed to appreciate.
Regulus had no illusions about Gryffindor Tower being the source of all etiquette in the wizarding world. If it had been, Sirius would never have been Sorted into it.
He could have dealt with rudeness. But ignorance was another matter. The Gryffindors didn't seem aware of the rules as they applied to Blacks. Like Bill Weasley, who'd expected him to say "You're welcome" when being thanked.
None of it made any sense.
And he knew he was going to run into trouble because of Sirius. Well, that was nothing new. He'd been paying the penalty of being Sirius Cyon Black's brother for a number of years in Slytherin. But now he was going to pay for being the brother of Sirius Cyon Black, shirt-lifter. And it wasn't going to help that he and Sirius looked disturbingly alike. Some idiot was going to assume that just because the two of them looked alike, they also shared the same sexual orientation.
The scary part was, he couldn't swear that they didn't.
Logically, he should have felt more secure. He liked girls (especially girls with shapely legs) and he wanted to date and have mind-blowing heterosexual sex…and, eventually, get married and have kids of his own.
But Sirius had gone the same route. Sirius had dated and pulled dozens of girls, all dead gorgeous.
And then Sirius had turned around and taken up with Remus Lupin, with whom he appeared to be besotted.
Their cousin Bellatrix had molested Sirius when he had been thirteen, Regulus knew. But Sirius had got over that. He'd dated for three years with no apparent problems. Regardless of what Sirius had said about being attracted to his own gender, Regulus had a hard time believing that Sirius had been faking it for three years.
So even though he thought he knew what he wanted, he might be wrong.
This was not a pleasant thought.
And then there were the third-year Gryffindors themselves. Or rather, the other third-year Gryffindors.
Who most emphatically did not want him here.
Well, no. That wasn't fair. There had been one or two who had looked at him with curiosity, at least. But most of the younger Gryffindors had regarded him with cold, unwelcoming eyes. There had been remarks about Dark wizards invading Gryffindor, as well as pointed comments about toadies and bullies and cowards who had no business being in the house of courage and daring.
And they were right. He was a coward.
Sirius was the fearless one. Always had been. Regulus couldn't recall a single thing that had ever scared his brother. He, on the other hand, had been terrified of thunderstorms and lightning since babyhood, cringed whenever he saw their house elf, Kreacher, and over Christmas vacation had acquired two new phobias: snow and dogs. And this list didn't take into account other, more amorphous fears, such as being afraid of his mother's temper or feeling chill terror run through him when Bellatrix smiled in his direction.
And yet he'd been re-Sorted into Gryffindor?
Regulus shook his head in the darkness of his empty dorm room. The Hat had to be mad. He'd never felt less brave or daring in his life.
If he'd had the nerve, he'd have fled the Gryffindor dorms and retreated to the Slytherin dungeons. Slytherin hadn't been an unmitigated joy by any stretch of the imagination--in fact, it had been awful most of the time. Narcissa had never been kind, Severus had been sarcastically cruel for years and Rabastan had been, not to put too fine a point on it, a sadistic bastard.
But, like Twelve Grimmauld Place, it had been a familiar awfulness. He'd only been in Gryffindor a few hours, and he already missed Narcissa's constant primping before reflective surfaces, and Snape's vicious and cutting remarks…which could be quite funny if they weren't directed at you.
Rabastan--oh, there had to be something good about Rabastan. Even if he couldn't think of anything at the moment.
The only things keeping him from racing back to Slytherin were an unwillingness to look stupid and the certain knowledge that he would not be welcomed. He'd betrayed them, after all. They knew it; he knew it.
The rest of the school year, and the next four after that, stretched out before him bleakly like an endless desert.
He would endure it. Somehow. Even if he couldn't see how he would manage. He'd survived a childhood at Twelve Grimmauld Place, hadn't he?
Regulus sighed, and rolled over, willing himself to get some sleep. Morning would come soon enough.
***
A number of people have protested RA Regulus' re-Sort into Gryffindor, saying that they thought the tension of having a decent Reg in Slytherin would be much better than placing him in a house where he can live happily ever after.
People! You should know me better! Me, give Regulus a happily ever after life? ::very evil grin::
Gryffindor itself creates enormous problems. So do the other third years. So does Regulus, just by being Regulus. This is NOT going to be easy for the boy.
Here's Regulus, alone in the third-year Gryffindor dorm, thinking about the difficulties and consequences of the re-Sort:
***
Regulus later calculated how long he'd been pleased to be re-Sorted into Gryffindor, and came to the conclusion that he'd been happy for about an hour--the duration of the January feast. After that…well, after that, there had been a party in Gryffindor, during which he'd been eyed suspiciously and largely been ignored, and during which Sirius was outed as a homosexual by a hostile ex-girlfriend.
It was not, perhaps, the most auspicious of beginnings.
And the auspices did not improve. Quite the contrary.
By the time that Regulus had gone to bed--and Sirius had dropped by the third-year dorm to give his little brother some extremely well-meant counsel as well as a welcoming hug--Regulus had managed to piece together a picture of his new house. It was so alien that he might as well have landed on another planet.
One of the biggest changes was to the sanguinary breakdown of Gryffindor. In Slytherin, he'd been one of a number of purebloods--not a particularly well-liked pureblood, but nevertheless acknowledged to be the bearer of an illustrious family name. Now…well, he was the only pureblood in Gryffindor's third year. The others were all halfbloods and Muggleborns.
His new year-mates would think that matters of purity of blood were quite unimportant. Regulus acknowledged that. He also knew that they were dead wrong. It was going to matter, and in ways he didn't want to think about.
Socialising, for instance. Regulus was sure that halfbloods and Muggleborns did...well, Muggle things together, even if he didn't know what those things were. Since his birth, his own social contacts had been limited to family gatherings, holidays such as Christmas, and his cousins' birthday parties. Aside from a few brief conversations with Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, he'd never spoken to a halfblood. And he'd never spoken to a Muggleborn. Well, he couldn't very well speak to any of them, could he? Quite apart from anything else, he didn't know any.
The upshot was that he had no idea what non-purebloods talked about, or did for amusement. He'd heard a few of the Gryffs talking about "sinny-ma" and "telly," but the words had no meaning. Not for him.
He'd heard a few of them trading other odd terms. West End. TARDIS. Fanzine. Morris Minor. Double-oh-seven. It was a whole different language, and Regulus doubted that he could ever learn to speak it. I'm going to need a professional translator just to say 'Hello.'
And then there was the small matter of class. Not to be mean about it, but even if he didn't always like his parents or his cousins, they--and he--were a cut above the rest of the human race. They were the elite, the best, the crème de la crème. They were Blacks, after all.
A simple fact that none of the Gryffindors seemed to appreciate.
Regulus had no illusions about Gryffindor Tower being the source of all etiquette in the wizarding world. If it had been, Sirius would never have been Sorted into it.
He could have dealt with rudeness. But ignorance was another matter. The Gryffindors didn't seem aware of the rules as they applied to Blacks. Like Bill Weasley, who'd expected him to say "You're welcome" when being thanked.
None of it made any sense.
And he knew he was going to run into trouble because of Sirius. Well, that was nothing new. He'd been paying the penalty of being Sirius Cyon Black's brother for a number of years in Slytherin. But now he was going to pay for being the brother of Sirius Cyon Black, shirt-lifter. And it wasn't going to help that he and Sirius looked disturbingly alike. Some idiot was going to assume that just because the two of them looked alike, they also shared the same sexual orientation.
The scary part was, he couldn't swear that they didn't.
Logically, he should have felt more secure. He liked girls (especially girls with shapely legs) and he wanted to date and have mind-blowing heterosexual sex…and, eventually, get married and have kids of his own.
But Sirius had gone the same route. Sirius had dated and pulled dozens of girls, all dead gorgeous.
And then Sirius had turned around and taken up with Remus Lupin, with whom he appeared to be besotted.
Their cousin Bellatrix had molested Sirius when he had been thirteen, Regulus knew. But Sirius had got over that. He'd dated for three years with no apparent problems. Regardless of what Sirius had said about being attracted to his own gender, Regulus had a hard time believing that Sirius had been faking it for three years.
So even though he thought he knew what he wanted, he might be wrong.
This was not a pleasant thought.
And then there were the third-year Gryffindors themselves. Or rather, the other third-year Gryffindors.
Who most emphatically did not want him here.
Well, no. That wasn't fair. There had been one or two who had looked at him with curiosity, at least. But most of the younger Gryffindors had regarded him with cold, unwelcoming eyes. There had been remarks about Dark wizards invading Gryffindor, as well as pointed comments about toadies and bullies and cowards who had no business being in the house of courage and daring.
And they were right. He was a coward.
Sirius was the fearless one. Always had been. Regulus couldn't recall a single thing that had ever scared his brother. He, on the other hand, had been terrified of thunderstorms and lightning since babyhood, cringed whenever he saw their house elf, Kreacher, and over Christmas vacation had acquired two new phobias: snow and dogs. And this list didn't take into account other, more amorphous fears, such as being afraid of his mother's temper or feeling chill terror run through him when Bellatrix smiled in his direction.
And yet he'd been re-Sorted into Gryffindor?
Regulus shook his head in the darkness of his empty dorm room. The Hat had to be mad. He'd never felt less brave or daring in his life.
If he'd had the nerve, he'd have fled the Gryffindor dorms and retreated to the Slytherin dungeons. Slytherin hadn't been an unmitigated joy by any stretch of the imagination--in fact, it had been awful most of the time. Narcissa had never been kind, Severus had been sarcastically cruel for years and Rabastan had been, not to put too fine a point on it, a sadistic bastard.
But, like Twelve Grimmauld Place, it had been a familiar awfulness. He'd only been in Gryffindor a few hours, and he already missed Narcissa's constant primping before reflective surfaces, and Snape's vicious and cutting remarks…which could be quite funny if they weren't directed at you.
Rabastan--oh, there had to be something good about Rabastan. Even if he couldn't think of anything at the moment.
The only things keeping him from racing back to Slytherin were an unwillingness to look stupid and the certain knowledge that he would not be welcomed. He'd betrayed them, after all. They knew it; he knew it.
The rest of the school year, and the next four after that, stretched out before him bleakly like an endless desert.
He would endure it. Somehow. Even if he couldn't see how he would manage. He'd survived a childhood at Twelve Grimmauld Place, hadn't he?
Regulus sighed, and rolled over, willing himself to get some sleep. Morning would come soon enough.
***