BLACK, Regulus Arcturus.

[Regulus Black]

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About You - -

Name: Fief.
Gender: Female.
Age: Sixteen.
Years of RPG Experience: Four.
Other: [Removed By Staff]

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Quick Quiz - -

How did you find us? A webring. :3
What about ISS inspired you to join? Everything!
Do you have any suggestions for us? Nope.

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About the Character- -

Name: Regulus Arcturus Black.
Age: Sixteen.
Gender: Male.
Year: Sixth.
Face Claim: Drew Fuller.

Canon or Original? Canon.

Facial Properties:

• • les o e i l s.

Harsh, round, and carrying a light-sage hue with a greenish-yellow ring circling the deep ebony pupil, Regulus’s eyes have been called one of his most striking features. Having been diagnosed with Central Heterochromia or “cat eyes” at birth, Regulus knew, growing up, that he had special features. Special attractive features. His eyes were already a lovely shade of faint sage, almost blue, and the ring of yellowish-green around his pupil only served to enhance this congenital beauty of his. He knew he possessed a certain charm when he was outside playing in his yard and happened upon a lovely young girl around his age -- which was, at that time, about eight -- and engaged her in conversation. The entire time she stared at his eyes -- whether in bewilderment, attraction, or curiosity, he knew not how -- and, at the end of their chat was reluctant to pull her inquisitive, bright brown eyes away from his mysterious, dual-colored ones. Ever since that day, Regulus knew he had an edge. All he had to do was hazard one glance in the direction of a woman or girl of whom he was enamored and she would stare right back into those big, glorious eyes of his, so all-encompassing, so mesmerizing in their unique brilliance. And, soon enough, she’d be addicted. This happened countless times to Regulus -- though, he decided, the first case with the eight-year-old girl was probably one of his most successful cases. It was a shame, really, that she was a Muggle.

• • la b o u c h e.

Many, many, many women can attest to the softness and attractive plumpness of Regulus’s pale red lips. Even in his youth, the boy carried the strong facial features once displayed prominently upon the stern face of his paternal grandfather, a fact of which both his parents are proud. Having clearly inherited the dark, heavy features of the Noble House of Black, Regulus’s mouth has a full upper and lower lip and is set against a strongly chiseled square jaw and pristinely white, straight teeth. His mouth, more likely than not, is the most sensual of all his appendages, and he prides himself in that fact. He goes through extra pains every day to ensure their safety, including wearing generous portions of chap-stick across his lips in order to keep them safe from the bite of the winter chill. And, honestly, it makes sense -- would a girl want to kiss you if your lips are chapped, peeling, and falling apart? No. Of course not. So why not be fastidious in your protection of them? You’ll get kissed better and more often, that’s for sure. And that is exactly Regulus’s ulterior motive. To keep his mouth ready for kissing any time because, really? you never know what could happen.

• • la p e a u et les c h e v e u x

Regulus is a ruddy, tanned, and, overall, dark-looking boy. Comes with the territory of being a Black -- you have dark features, both of skin and of hair, and this holds true for the Blacks’ youngest boy. With his heavy curtains of dark brown hair, often confused for black, falling to his ears in barely perceivable waves, Regulus strongly resembles his older brother (to his great dismay). In fact, at times, in the hallways, they have been taken for one another by a passing classmate or friend who stops to greet them. This bothers both of them to no end, and, after two years of putting up with it, Regulus took action by wearing more of the green accessories his family had bought him over his school robes to indicate his status as a Slytherin, not a Gryffindor. If there was one thing Regulus hated most about his day-to-day school life it was being mistaken for a bright-eyed, bumbling Gryffindor. And not just a Gryffindor -- his brother, no less. He understood that with his tanned skin, dark locks, and his proud gait that he looked like his brother, yes, but the fact that their eyes were so radically different -- and are one of Regulus’s most distinguished features -- should have been obvious enough for whoever was idiot enough to think he was his brother, right? Really, were people that daft that they actually couldn’t tell the difference between his sage eyes, complete with a yellow ring around the pupil, and his brother’s navy blue ones? It never ceased to puzzle him.

Physique:

• • le c o r p s.

Tall, statuesque, standing at an impressive, towering height of 6’2’‘, Regulus looks every bit the Quidditch player. With his thickly muscled arms and legs, all well-proportioned, it’s really no wonder that he’s Chaser -- and Captain. He is lithe, fit, and able to juggle navigating through the air and concentrating on getting the Quaffle through the goal hoop. Regulus is extremely fastidious about exercising as well, which also contributed to his nomination as Captain. He is not afraid to go out on the pitch all day and work out, and he’s even less afraid to drag the team out with him. He’s very organized in that sense and has the capability to exercise willpower and do so many more push-ups or sit-ups or whathaveyou than everyone else. He shows no compassion toward a complaining player, yet simply pushes them harder than the rest, seeing room for improvement. And, because he works out so often, both with his team and solo, Regulus is in impeccable shape. Darned proud of it, too. His skin is tanned due to his excessive and rigorous schedule, colored light pink in some places by various scars over his shoulders and arms from when he was either hit by Bludger or took a nasty fall. His hands, roughened and calloused by the broom, often suffer the brunt of his falls as well, for he lands on them, and have many a time been presented reluctantly to Madame Pomfrey for bandages and healing. Regulus, being the innate show-off he is, never really is concerned with his physical safety during a Quidditch match and finds himself visiting the nurse very frequently following a match, whether he is conscious or not. Madame Pomfrey is glad he’s got a hard head.

Personality:

• • un homme s e d u c t e u r.

Regulus Black the womanizer. Ah, his reputation precedes him on this one. Having been in countless non-relationships with numerous females of all shapes, sizes, ages, and philosophies, the Slytherin Stud surely knows his way around romance... err... the physical side, anyway. You see, way back in his second year, Regulus was joking around with some friends after the Quidditch try-outs that he would be the first of their group to get a girlfriend. The others, of course, rose to the challenge, and they made a bet that whoever had a girlfriend at the end of the week first would get their homework done by all the losers for the following week. Regulus, being lazy, was probably the most excited about this prize, and, honestly, didn’t care which girl he picked, as long as she looked the part well enough and didn’t mind being paraded around his friends like a peacock. He picked the wrong girl. About midway through the week, Regulus was hanging out on the grounds and saw a Slytherin first year lounging against a tree, staving off the snow and cold with her ridiculous amounts of clothing and scarves and blankets and boots as she studied. She would have looked a lot prettier with her hair down and with smaller glasses. But she’d do. He approached her coolly, working the Black charm, which she succumbed to easily, and asked her to meet up with him after dinner in the Common Room. She readily agreed, and, later that evening, the two chattered away about Muggle rights and Quidditch until the excitement faded from her eyes and tiredness soon replaced it. Regulus was tired too, and bored nearly to death, and waved goodnight to the girl, Priscilla, with a cheerful smile on his face. In the morning, he asked her to be his girlfriend, and she complied, though in shock. Regulus won the bet at that point, much to the dismay of his buddies, and then promptly dumped Priscilla afterwards. She never seemed to recover fully, but he did, and ever since has been picking up girls right and left with little to no inhibition.

• • un a t h e l e t e.

Ever since he was a kid, Regulus has adored Quidditch. His parents bought him his first broom at age seven, and he was on it so often that it seemed like his bum was glued to it. He carried it around the house with him, played outside with it, and even slept with it. Walburga had to go as far as adding another chair to the dinner table for the broom, dubbed ‘Sticks,’ to sit beside Regulus as he ate. Yes, Regulus was obsessed with Sticks. But, even more so, he was obsessed with Quidditch. Every day he would go outside, mount Sticks, and fly around the neighborhood a few times, trying not to fall as he wove in and out of houses and trees. However, after a few weeks of the monotony of flying solo and with no real objective, Regulus soon grew bored and enlisted the help and guidance of his father to teach him to play Quidditch. Orion had been a player on the House team in his days at Hogwarts, so he was happily obliged to teach his son the ropes. As it turned out, he was a little rustier than he’d thought, having not ridden a broom in almost ten years (he preferred the Floo network for travel). After getting padded up from head to toe, Orion was ready for action, and mounted his broom while a nervous Walburga and a jealous Sirius stood by down below. As they soared into the air, Orion began tossing a Quaffle back and forth to his eager son, who appeared to be quite a natural at catching and passing objects while in flight. Orion, however, was not so skilled at this (having played Beater in his day) and ended up getting creamed in the face more often than he would have liked by an overzealous Regulus, whose ego was steadily inflating with his father’s every failed catch. Walburga, at the end of their practice, had run out of bandages for Orion’s myriad sores and was tearing apart the house in trying to find a substitute; though Orion, being stoic, brushed it off with a slight whimper and congratulated his son on his... unique talent for catching objects in mid-air. He prophesied that his son would be a Chaser for his House team, and, when Regulus was awarded this position in his second year, was thrilled to learn his prediction had been correct.

• • un garçon s û r et c o m p e t i t i f f.

Ever since his youth, Regulus has been a very confident boy. Most likely stemming from his early favoritism of him over Sirius, the younger Black brother honestly believes he’s better than most people around, and, what’s more, deserves better treatment as well. He’s confident in his supremacy and the supremacy of his prestigious and noble family and doesn’t require the opinions of others or the lapdog chauvinists who chase him around all day to tell him so. Honestly, he doesn’t care about others’ opinions of him. Unless they’re not good. In which case, he’ll put on his charm and attempt a reconciliation. If they’re Slytherin, that is. If not, well, then... that’s just too bad, isn’t it? Because really, it doesn’t matter if a little Huffie or Gryffie or Raven is out to get you. It’s not like they’d get too far, especially when it comes to breaking through his protective ring of outer friends and die-hard Black fans who would give their lives to protect him. In Regulus’s vain little opinion, he has nothing to worry about when it comes to people and their grudges against him. He’s confident in his support system and his own magical strengths and abilities, and doesn’t think twice about failure. Speaking of failure... he’s competitive, too, and doesn’t take well to losing. Not at all. In fact, when Slytherin loses a match, or, Merlin forbid, the House Cup, he’ll seclude himself for days in his dormitory, refusing to come out even at the pleading of his closest friends. And, when he does come out, he takes out his residual anger on everyone else around him and pushes the team harder. He calls more meetings, more workout sessions, and more practices than usual, striving to make the team remorseful of their failure -- because, of course, it has nothing to do with him.

• • un homme r é s i s t a n t et h o n n ê t e .

Despite his being a terribly sore loser and an extreme competitor on all fronts, Regulus is a resilient little soul physically, having suffered through myriad injuries via his countless falls and hits from Bludgers during Quidditch tournaments and yet with little to no pain. He just has a very high tolerance for pain -- a thing that never ceases to amaze Madame Pomfrey and only serves to facilitate his pigheadedness. He considers himself as a step above his fellow teammates for this reason, classifying them as ‘weak’ in accordance with their various pain-causing bruises and scratches. Whenever any of them whines about a so-called ‘injury,’ he lashes out at them, displaying his scars and bruises and bragging about how they don’t pain him, therefore the complaining teammate shouldn’t be bothered by his or her wounds. Regulus rationalizes this for himself in these strange ways described above, and this rationalization often disturbs the rest of the team (as they are shown no mercy during matches where they injure themselves and are asked to get right back on the broom whether or not blood is gushing from every orifice -- it can be theorized that this is why Slytherin has such bad luck in winning matches, for on occasion their team is half-dead by the time the game is three quarters of the way over). Although Regulus is a bit hard on his team because of his own resilience, he is very honest with them and with all those he knows and trusts because he sees lying as cowardly. If thinks his team needs re-evaluation, he’s not about to candy-coat it for them or lie to them in the hopes of eliciting a self-induced improvement. No, Regulus is very hands-on. He gets right in their faces and tells them they ‘suck’ and there’s loads of room for improvement. He cuts right to the chase with no hesitation, doesn’t care if they’re offended, doesn’t worry about their feelings -- as long as he got his point across that’s all that matters. Besides, Regulus enjoys to anger people. It really is quite amusing.

• • sous une forte p r e s s i o n.

Though he never usually likes to admit it, Regulus is extremely pressured by his family. He’s the sole male heir to the Black family and there are expectations that accompany that title. His mother and father try to cut him breaks every so often but the rest of his family expects him to be perfect every second of every day. He receives owls from his grandparents and aunts and uncles almost weekly and is required to scribble down responses about his schooling, about his grades, about Quidditch... even about his girlfriends (hey, they’ve got to familiarize themselves with the possible candidates for Regulus’s future wife). He usually gives cryptic answers and tries to squirm out of the most uncomfortable and pervasive questions, but, honestly, it’s hard to get away from a Black on a mission. Really, the only owls he likes getting are those from his mother, where Kreacher often is included as saying ‘hello.’ Regulus and Kreacher share a very special bond, being playmates as far back as he could remember, and serving as the amiable companion that his brother never was. Regulus knows that Kreacher is but a mere house-elf and therefore a slave, but he can’t help but love him. He’s one of the only people -- er, things -- he can trust. Walburga and Orion he can also trust, usually, yet they also have excessively high expectations for their ‘only son’ and provide much of the pressure haunting him everyday. Regulus is just that -- haunted -- by the heaviness constantly weighing down his shoulders. And he sees Sirius so light and happy and carefree and can’t help but wish the stupid Gryffindor hadn’t turned out to be such a sop. If he hadn’t failed, Sirius, being the elder brother, would’ve had to deal with the incessant owls, with the poking and prodding, with the matchmaking, with the tutoring, with the public appearances, with the reputation to uphold. He would’ve had to sit in bed and look at his life, all laid out before him, conventional and boring. He would’ve had to live with the knowledge that the entire weight of the family is dependent on him. He would’ve be filled with self-doubt and would push himself to be better and better so that he can live up to his family’s expectations. And Regulus wouldn’t have had to be bothered with any of it. Yes, sometimes Regulus finds himself wishing Sirius hadn’t been such a failure. Because then he would have had the chains around his neck.

Likes:
+ Girls. “What’s not to love?”
+ French. “The language of seduction is my partner in crime.”
+ Purebloods. “There’s no room on this Earth for any others.”
+ Quidditch. “My hobby and constant occupation. I love being able to relax into my passion after a hard day. Plus, I’m Captain of the Slytherin House Team, so it’s even better.”
+ His family... minus the unnamed traitor. “I’m proud to be the sole male representative of the oldest-standing Pureblood family in the wizarding world.”
+ Dueling. “It’s one of my fortes, you know, kicking peoples’ sorry asses.”
+ Slytherin. “I swear to Merlin they’re the only decent people in this entire decaying castle.”
+ Being a rebel. “It gets me attention. I love the adrenaline rush that accompanies being up to no good.”
+ Annoying teachers. “I never cease to be amused by their befuddled expressions as I screw with their heads.”
+ Starting fights. “I always feel more powerful when I’m the instigator.”
+ Drama. “It’s great when things get twisted and sour. I love watching the cat fights that inevitably ensue.”
+ Attention. “Um, really? Who doesn’t want it?”
+ Winning. “Losing is not an option for me.”
+ Showing off. “I’m a pretty impressive guy. Lots of ladies can attest to that...”
+ Kreacher. “Sometimes I think he’s the only sane one around.”
+ The Dark Lord. “A flipping awesome wizard if I ever saw one.”
Dislikes:
– Losing. “I’m incapable of it. Whenever something goes wrong, it was someone else’s problem, not mine.”
– Rivals. “Who wants to have a jealous boyfriend breathing down your neck as you court their girl? Seriously. It’s annoying.”
– Boredom. “I’ve made it a goal never to suffer through an idle time.”
– Detention. “It’s just a formality, so why even bother to show up?”
– The unnamed traitor. “The moron I will never recognize as my kin. He doesn’t deserve to carry the surname.”
– Humiliation. “It sucks, simple as that, and totally wrecks your reputation.”
– School. “It would be a lot more tolerable if I didn’t have to attend with other houses besides my own. And who likes school? Honestly? It’s a drag. Responsibility is a drag.”
– Any other house besides Slytherin, especially Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. “Muggle-lovers. Every single one of them.”
– Family gatherings. “I mean, it’s great showing off, because I’m the favored child... but after a while it just gets old.”
– Making choices. “I’ve always been a bit indecisive.”
– Being broke. “Having no money is really not fun. Especially when you want to take your girl to Hogsmeade, grab a butterbeer... can’t ask her to pay for it if you want her to talk to you!”
– Reading. “I reached my reading quota for life when I was three, thanks very much.”
– Muggles and Muggleborns. “They really don’t deserve to exist. The Dark Lord’s totally got the right idea.”
– Homework. “Boring. Lame. Crap. Never will I waste my time on it.”

History:


• • && il etait une fois. . .

. . . there was a man named Orion and a girl named Walburga. They were second cousins. And -- they fell in love? Okay, wait, stop. They were cousins and they got it on? I’m going to interrupt this tale to say that, really, that’s so sick. No wonder they had deranged children (at least one, anyway).

Ahem. But. To continue with the story.

Orion and Walburga attended the same school. At that time, Walburga was a talented Slytherin witch with the traditional dark features of her future husband’s family. Perhaps this is why he was attracted to her? In any case, she was, despite the unattractiveness of her name, a lovely girl... on the outside. On the inside, not so much; at least, in the eyes of all others save Slytherins. Being a sympathizer with the designs of Pureblood radicals and their leader, the Dark Lord, to take charge of the wizarding world and instate a series of laws restricting Muggleborn rights, she was quite popular with the members of her House. Particularly with Orion Black, who was in her year and saw quite a bit of her -- enough to decide she was sufficient wife material -- and lost no time in diverting her attention from other male hopefuls and directing it, instead, toward himself. Which, in itself, wasn’t such a hard task, for Orion was a moderately handsome fellow with passing wit, intelligence and casual charm. Not to mention the fact that they’d been childhood playmates -- you know, being second cousins and all -- and hence got to see a lot of each other prior to their schooling. Heck, Orion had probably already pegged her as a future spouse when they were still in diapers. But the point is that sometime during their youth, they fell in love and, upon graduating from Hogwarts, were wed in a gargantuan, lavish ceremony (the Blacks were never to be outdone) with all the living Blacks in attendance. The reception that followed was just as lavish and gargantuan as the wedding itself, and everyone had an exceptionally wonderful time. Everyone, that is, except for Walburga and Orion, for they had just discovered she was pregnant.

Not that they didn’t want children, of course, because one of the Black family’s major priorities was to spawn more of their kind -- no, it was due to the fact that they didn’t want to be slammed with responsibility so soon after their marriage. And, really, who would want to have to deal with a baby right after being married? That would really be no fun, especially considering the fact that Walburga and Orion were so young and naive in the ways of parenting. How could they ever manage!? they wondered together on endless nights. They didn’t want this child. At least, not now. Not so soon. So, when they sent out the formal announcement to all their family members with heavy hearts and sagging smiles, they weren’t surprised to be given all kinds of various parenting books written by Pureblood celebrities who probably knew nothing about parenting but were great for marketing purposes. Walburga, being slightly more concerned with the raising of her child, read these books and took copious notes from them, relating what she’d read to her reluctant-father-grouch of a husband, who, in turn, shrugged them off with a grimace and grunt and returned to their couch with a dismayed look on his face. Kreacher, eager to please, tried various different things to cheer up his master, not the least of which includedserving him assorted meals with horrific and gruesome names to excite his appetite (such as ‘Mudblood Pie’ or ‘Intestine of Muggle’), but nothing seemed to work. Kreacher and Walburga even teamed up and organized a surprise party for Orion’s birthday, but the shock just gave him the runs for the next few days (his bowels had always been rather sensitive, especially after Kreacher’s horrendous meals got to them). Feeling miserable and alone herself, Walburga turned to Kreacher for parenting discussions and advice, despite his status as her slave, and the two bonded strongly over this.

When Walburga’s water broke, she was cooking another meal for her husband with Kreacher in the kitchen. Kreacher, having gleaned some passing knowledge from his mistress's parenting books, knew what this meant, and subsequently succumbed to a panic attack. Thus, it fell to Orion to escort Walburga to St. Mungo’s through the Floo Network, and, of course, he complained about his fear the entire way. Walburga suffered through particularly violent contractions, and, by the time they’d arrived at her bed in the hospital, she’d already crowned. The child, a boy, as it turned out, thankfully did not want to stay in his mother for very long, and the birth was mercifully short and swift. However, even more wonderful than that was that Orion, upon seeing the face of his mewling babe, suddenly grew out of his funk, took the reddened child in his arms, and named him without hesitation: Sirius Orion Black. Walburga, heavily drugged and in no condition to argue with his choice, merely nodded and drifted off into a heavy sleep, only to wake up several hours later in the confines of her house with Kreacher and Orion huddled around her bed discussing the various adorable qualities Sirius possessed. That Walburga was enthralled by her husband’s sudden enthusiasm for fatherhood goes without saying, and the fact that Orion had now emerged from his emotional immaturity added a whole new dimension to their marital relationship. One that produced their second son, Regulus Arcturus.

However... to backtrack: the first year of Sirius Black’s life was anything but what Orion and Walburga had expected. The child simply did not go by the books! He threw tantrums whenever Kreacher came near him, he defecated all over his clothing and crib, he bit visitors... he was like an untamed animal. They tried everything, from changing his diet to leaving him outside for a few hours to pump some air into his brain, and nothing worked. Walburga was starting to develop ulcers and Orion was losing weight. Both decided that raising a baby was much more difficult than they’d anticipated, and, though they loved Sirius, they were incessantly annoyed by him and his uncouthness. They were embarrassed to present him at family gatherings and often left him in his room (though his agonizingly loud screams could be heard echoing throughout the entire house), hoping their parents wouldn’t ask about his well-being, or if he’d improved at all since their last visit to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Walburga, being faced with such an inquiry, would often fiddle with her dress and try to concoct a sugar-coated response. Orion, however, just told it like it was. Which usually meant something along the lines of “He poops green, he screams like a hyena, he teethes on my fingers, he sprays me with urine when I change his diapers and keeps me up to ungodly hours at night with his annoying mewling. So, in short, he’s just the same as last time.” Of course, this bothered Walburga, who always chided him for saying such things to their already horrified parents, but Orion felt so apathetic toward his son that he couldn’t help it. To him, keeping up a calm exterior didn’t even matter anymore. He was stuck with a failure of a son and he knew it, and, as far as he was concerned, Walburga was just in denial.

But, shortly after Walburga had recovered from Sirius’s birth, the unthinkable happened: she was pregnant again. Orion, having gotten a taste of parenthood via his first son, was undeniably perturbed by this information. Walburga, also, was slightly unnerved, as mothering one troublemaker was difficult enough and to undertake a second provoked her ulcers and spread her stamina thin. She loved Orion, she really did, but after her second pregnancy was well underway, he moved permanently into the guest bedroom, and she remained in the master suite (it was her idea, of course). Throughout her pregnancy, Kreacher catered to her more than ever, thinking the emotional strain due to Orion’s depression during her first pregnancy had caused Sirius to turn out the way he did. So Kreacher cooked her meals, changed her clothes, tucked her into bed at night... all the conventional stuff she normally would’ve done herself. And then some. It really creeped Orion out, like he had to compete with a house-elf for his wife’s attention, but Walburga adored Kreacher and loved him even more when he catered to her. However, this didn’t satisfy Orion, who tried to out-cater Kreacher when it came to his wife. This battle of catering contributed to Walburga’s steady gain of weight, and, after nine months of lying in bed all day and eating, she’d grown heavier than Orion desired.

When she went into labor, Walburga noticed that something was different. Somehow, it felt as though the pain wasn’t as intense, wasn’t as acute, as it had been with Sirius. The pain was there, of course, but not nearly as cleaving. She attributed it to her newly formed blubber, wrathfully, and made a mental note to throw a fit as soon as she recovered. Orion, being more apathetic than ever about the new addition to his family, simply waited in the lobby of St. Mungo’s while his wife gave birth to his second son, a beautiful baby boy she’d dubbed Regulus Arcturus Black. With his bright, sage-green eyes, pale skin, and dark fringe of the traditional family brown hair atop his head, Walburga instantly liked him better than Sirius. He was quieter as well, having emitted much softer cries than Sirius upon entering the world. His mother held him for a while, cooing to him as she cradled him in her arms, waiting for Orion to come and see their second son. And come he did, as the Healers had notified him of a successful, smooth birth promptly after Regulus was cleaned and given to his tearful mother. Orion, feeling slightly more optimistic at the mention of a ‘smooth and successful birth,’ promptly arrived in his wife’s room and, after meeting with his baby boy’s eyes for the first time, arrived at the same conclusion as his wife had: this boy was different from Sirius. Better. Calmer. Handsomer. And his heart swelled with pride as he gathered the child in his arms and sat next to his blubbering wife, discussing Regulus’s wonderful features in comparison to Sirius’s not so favorable ones. And this, dear friends, is where the brotherly rivalry began.

Growing up, Regulus and Sirius had never been close. Well, okay, maybe up until they were five and six they played together, but after Sirius turned seven and Regulus six, things changed forever. First of all, Regulus discovered his capability to perform magic when he was five, a year before Sirius did. This, of course, only fueled Sirius’s jealousy of his younger brother, who had been the favorite since birth, and further served to handicap their already fragmented companionship. Secondly, when Sirius discovered his ability to perform magic, it was due to his anger regarding an unfair punishment he was to suffer (Regulus had beaten him at a game of wizard’s chess because he’d cheated and Sirius had subsequently stuffed his brother’s smug little head face-first into the toilet and flushed) for providing retribution for his brother’s cheating. He got into a heated -- literally -- argument with his father and set his pant leg on fire. Of course, Regulus was there with a vase filled with water at the ready to put it out. So, Sirius was to be punished, despite his parents’ happiness at his discovering his magical ability, and Regulus was praised. This, you see, was the way it always was. Regulus could do no wrong. Sirius could do no right. And, together, they were a diabolical drama-creating team. Walburga swiftly lost all the weight she’d gained and then some in trying to constantly police-force them every second of every day. She was hospitalized several times for her bleeding ulcers, and decided, along with Orion, that there were to be no more children for them in the future. Two boys were more than enough for the rest of her life.

As Regulus and Sirius aged, it became even clearer that Regulus was the favored child. Whenever their grandparents visited, they gave the biggest hugs and the biggest gifts to him and slighted Sirius with diminutive presents and curt pats on the back. They would always inquire after Regulus’s travails, and Regulus’s thoughts and theories and likes and dislikes and hobbies and friends and life. Sirius usually faded into the background whenever Regulus was around, and slowly began to separate from the family’s ideals. Regulus, however, being thus pampered, became rather fanatical about blood purity and the Dark Lord, much to his parents’ delight, and devoted much of his free time to studying genealogical tables of the Black family, reading books on theories of blood purity and memorizing articles about the Dark Lord and the rise in the number of his followers. By the time he’d reached the age of ten, his entire room was covered in magazine and newspaper clippings about the Dark Lord and various other Pureblood demonstrations and radicals. That, of course, and posters of his favorite Quidditch teams. Regulus adored Quidditch, and his parents bought him an extremely expensive broom for his seventh birthday for him to practice with before he went to Hogwarts.

Speaking of Hogwarts... Regulus’s brother, Sirius, was preparing to attend at the end of the summer, having been formally invited and having purchased all his things, and, much to the relief of his family, was sent off to the Scottish castle within the first few weeks of August... and was sorted into Gryffindor. Yeah. His family wasn’t so pleased about that. To say the least. Walburga had an emotional breakdown, Orion left the house for a few days to collect his thoughts and notify the family, and Regulus sat on his bed for a few hours, thinking about how awful the whole thing was for Sirius and yet how happy he was that his brother was in trouble. Regulus always got a little thrill when Sirius got punished. It made him feel dominant, like the alpha male, though he was a year younger. And that thrill came back in full swing when Sirius disappointed the family in such a severely grave manner. Regulus couldn’t wait till he could go to Hogwarts and get sorted into the family House, Slytherin, and further win the love and support of those around him (and further steal that love and support from Sirius). And, soon enough, Regulus received his embossed invitation from Hogwarts. A large going-away party was thrown in his honor, and many of the Blacks attended, gifts at the ready and money stuffed into the accompanying cards. At the end of it all, Regulus had gotten the fanciest school supplies and was filthy rich... for a kid, of course. All his school supplies were green of course, to match his House colors; his entire family knew he would get into Slytherin. He just had to. He was Regulus Arcturus Black -- he was the perfect heir.

And, sure enough, when Regulus arrived at Hogwarts as a first year and had the Sorting Hat placed on his tousled hair, he was sorted instantly into Slytherin. He sent an owl to his family right away describing the entire process, and how happy he was in his new home, but that, of course, he missed them and couldn't wait to go home for the holidays, and received a prompt response from them, obviously elated and relieved that Regulus hadn’t messed up like Sirius had. They were even more elated and relieved to learn of his further accomplishments -- his good grades, his promising Quidditch talent, his popularity... all this was good news, and, as Walburga and Orion became entangled with his affairs, they soon forgot about their other son, Sirius, who was fast on the path to Gryffindor greatness. And, as the years went by, Sirius became even more estranged from his family until, finally, he abandoned them to live with the ridiculous Gryffindor prankster, James Potter, and was removed via flame -- courtesy of Walburga -- from the family tapestry in the living room. And, as Sirius entered his last year at Hogwarts and his first year away from home, Regulus became Captain of his Quidditch team. His parents, of course, were ecstatic at this news, and bought him a brand new broom for the momentous occasion.

Ever since then, Regulus has been walking on sunshine. He is the sole male heir to the Black fortune, his brother is finallyseparated from his life, and he’s Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch Team. So, what could go wrong? In Regulus’s mind? Nothing. Nothing at all.


Sample Post: See my other posts as Priscilla Pryce and Alice Logan? Thanks! <3

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And Finally - -

I, Fief, have read the rules, understand clearly what my responsibilities are now that I am joining ISS, and will abide by these standards set by the staff.

[Narcissa Black]

accepted!