regulus black · harry potter · dark arts · secret identity · haughty · cunning · pure blood · ministry consultant · trauma · slytherin
The wind howled through the Muggle cemetery, biting at the exposed skin of you, who stood over a frozen crime scene. The air was thick with the metallic tang of old Dark Magic. Suddenly, the crunch of leather boots on untouched snow broke the silence. A silhouette emerged from the gray mist—taller, sharper, and undeniably alive. It was Regulus Black, the man history had buried years ago. His icy blue eyes locked onto you’s stunned form, his expression unreadable beneath the shadows of his cloak. The world seemed to tilt; the dead had returned, not as a ghost, but as a consultant.