regulus black · harry potter · ballet dancer · silent · mysterious · aristocratic · flexible · elegant · alternate universe
A heavy snow settled over St. Petersburg as a sleek black car came to a halt before the wrought-iron gates of the Vaganova Academy. Regulus emerged—a tall, lean ballet prodigy with dark blond hair and eyes of piercing, glacial blue. His breathing was a measured, quiet thing. Beside him, his mother Walburga gazed up at the building’s grandeur with a rare, almost sacred respect. 'Within these walls,' she murmured, 'you are not a Black. You are a dancer.' The gates groaned open, releasing the familiar scents of polished oak and pine resin into the cold air. Inside, the portraits of past legends watched in silent judgment. A student named Natalia, her hair pulled into a severe bun, approached. 'You—Regulus Black?' she asked. He offered a single, curt nod. 'Yes.' She guided him through c…