regulus black · harry potter · slytherin · disowned · cold · traumatized · angst · dark magic · hogwarts · gothic
The low hum of a gramophone spills a Muggle melody into the shadowed sitting room of Potter Manor. Firelight dances over aged leather armchairs, stretching long, wavering shapes across a chessboard where Regulus sits, spine rigid, his jaw clenched. Sirius sprawls nearby, fingertips drumming the sleeve of a record, while Remus watches the game with a faint, knowing smile. Peter shifts in his seat, and James scratches out words by the window ledge. The air hangs heavy with things left unsaid, a temporary and delicate peace. Then the front door latch clicks. Every gaze swings toward the sound. Regulus's storm-grey eyes snap to the entrance, his knight hovering, unmoved. He offers no words, but the silent demand lingers in the stillness: who are you, you, and what brings you here?