Spring, 1966. Regulus turned five.
Five years old in the Black household marked the beginning of formal education.
Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at three o'clock in the afternoon, Walburga conducted lessons on "Family Glory" in the small study.
A massive Black family tapestry hung on the wall, draping from ceiling to floor. Gold and silver threads embroidered a web of matrimonial alliances spanning a thousand years upon the dark fabric background.
Monday: Genealogy.
"Look here," Walburga said, using a slender ebony pointer to indicate the top of the tapestry. "Linfred Black, a healer from the twelfth century, the acknowledged patriarch of our family..."
Regulus sat on a hard-backed wooden chair, hands on his knees, his gaze following the pointer.
"Regulus, repeat what I just said." Walburga's voice pulled him back.
"From 1578 to 1623, the Black family intermarried with the Rosier family four times and the Fawley family three times, interspersed with unions with the Crouches and Traverses, forming a stabilized structure," Regulus answered fluently.
Walburga nodded with satisfaction and turned to Sirius. "And you?"
Sirius squirmed in his chair. "Who can remember all that! They're just names of dead people!"
"They are your ancestors!"
"Dead is dead," Sirius muttered.
Walburga's face darkened, and she was about to explode when Regulus interrupted just in time. "Mother, I have a question."
"Speak."
"Why is it that after the fourteenth century, we only intermarried with the Sacred Twenty-Eight families?" Regulus pointed to an earlier section of the tapestry. "It shows here that between the twelfth and fourteenth centuries, the Black family married into the Prewett, Macmillan, and even the Bones families, but then it stopped."
Walburga's expression stiffened slightly. "Because those families fell from grace."
"Fell how?"
"They began accepting Muggle-borns, even intermarrying with Muggles," Walburga's voice turned severe. "Their bloodlines were polluted. The House of Black must remain pure. That is our duty."
"But the Prewetts are still on the list of the Sacred Twenty-Eight," Regulus pointed out.
"That is a compromise! A stupid list made by the Ministry!" Walburga smacked her pointer against the tapestry, causing several portraits to flinch. "True pure-blood families are becoming fewer and fewer. We are the last beacon in a defiled world."
Extremely narrow-minded, Regulus thought. But understandable. In a world where magic is hereditary, bloodlines do have significance. But to attribute everything to blood is far too simplistic.
Regulus glanced at Sirius, knowing his brother was destined never to accept this theory. And perhaps that was for the best.
A thought suddenly occurred to him: Maybe it would be better for Sirius to leave the Black family.
The thought startled Regulus for a moment, but upon closer reflection, the logic held up perfectly.
The Black family would eventually side with Voldemort, with the exception of Sirius and Andromeda.
If Sirius was destined to resist, he should leave early. Joining the opposing camp sooner might give him a better chance of survival in the coming war.
As for himself, Regulus Black, his identity destined him to be swept into the darkness.
He needed the Black family's resources. He needed the pure-blood status. He needed to get close to the core of the Death Eaters to acquire knowledge.
He and Sirius were walking two paths that would, sooner or later, diverge into opposition.
Wednesday: Blood Supremacy.
"Muggles are defective creatures," Walburga paced the study, a habit of hers when she was emotional. "They have no magic. Like birds without wings, or fish without gills. They are evolutionary failures."
Sirius raised his hand. Regulus had taught him to do this, raise a hand when Mother asked questions during lessons to avoid direct confrontation.
"Speak."
"But Muggles can build airplanes," Sirius said. "Planes can fly. They can fly without wings."
Walburga sneered. "A clumsy imitation. Using metal and fuel, noisy as death, polluting the air. A wizard's broomstick is elegant, quiet, and clean."
"But airplanes fly higher, faster, and carry more people," Regulus added calmly.
The room fell silent. Walburga stared at her second son. "Are you defending Muggles?"
"I am stating facts," Regulus said. "Mother, if we are truly superior to Muggles, we should surpass them in all aspects.
"If we can only comfort ourselves by saying magic is more 'elegant,' while they surpass us in speed, load capacity, and altitude, then who is truly superior?"
Sirius sucked in a breath, waiting for their mother to explode.
But Walburga didn't explode. She stood there, stunned, her lips moving but no sound coming out.
Regulus continued, "Perhaps the question isn't who is superior, but what we choose to develop. Muggles develop technology; we develop magic.
"But if we rest on our laurels and only guard our traditions while Muggle technology advances constantly, there will come a day when the gap is too large to ignore."
"The Ministry has the Statute of Secrecy..." Walburga's tone weakened slightly.
"The Statute of Secrecy is built on the premise that Muggles won't find out," Regulus said. "But what if one day, Muggles invent technology that can detect magic?
"What if they invent instruments that can see through Disillusionment Charms? If we are still arguing about blood purity while they can already break Muggle-Repelling Charms, what then?"
Walburga remained silent for a long time. Finally, she said, "That is all for today."
She left in a hurry.
Sirius leaned over and whispered, "You scared her."
"Maybe," Regulus hopped off the hard chair. "But someone has to speak the truth."
"Why did you speak up for Muggles?" Sirius asked curiously.
"I wasn't speaking up for Muggles," Regulus looked at him. "I just hate lies. If we are truly strong, we don't need to belittle others to prove it."
Sirius nodded, seeming to understand yet not fully grasping it.
At dinner, Walburga brought up the latest gossip. "The Nott family's daughter actually wanted to marry a Mudblood! Mr. Nott was so furious he locked her in the tower. They say he's sending her to a convent in France for the rest of her life."
Sirius was cutting his steak. Upon hearing this, his knife and fork stopped.
"Why?" he asked. "She likes that person, doesn't she?"
"Likes?" Walburga sounded as if she had heard the most ridiculous word. "Can 'like' put food on the table? Can 'like' maintain the purity of the bloodline? She has lost her mind!"
"But if two people like each other..."
"Shut up!" Walburga's voice turned shrill. "Sirius, how many times have I warned you? Do not pollute your mind with those filthy Muggle ideas! A member of the House of Black must have responsibility! Must have duty!"
"Responsibility is locking up your own daughter?" Sirius stood up excitedly, his chair scraping harshly against the floor. "Responsibility is tearing apart two people who love each other?"
"She doesn't love him! She was just..."
"How do you know?" Sirius shouted back. "You aren't her! You don't even know that person!"
Orion put down his knife and fork. "Sirius, sit down."
"I won't!" Sirius's eyes were red. "It's not fair! Why can't we choose the people we like? Why must we marry someone from the Sacred Twenty-Eight? I don't know anyone on that list! Maybe I won't like any of them!"
Walburga stood up as well, her wand already sliding into her hand. "Say that again?!"
Regulus watched the scene, feeling utterly speechless. Sirius's rebellious nature was on full display. Even if he didn't understand what love was, he simply opposed this method of control.
And Mother... she only knew oppression, forcing Sirius to accept her pure-blood ideology.
"Mother," Regulus's voice was calm. "Sirius means that affection is one of the important factors in choosing a partner.
"However, from the perspective of family continuity, blood stability is indeed the priority. Perhaps the two can be balanced. For example, choosing someone you like within the Sacred Twenty-Eight."
Walburga paused, her anger subsiding slightly. "Well, of course... if it is within the appropriate circle, having affection is better."
Sirius, however, stared at his brother, his eyes hurt. "You're speaking for them too? You also think blood is more important than liking someone?"
"I am speaking of reality," Regulus met his gaze. "The reality is, the House of Black will not accept Muggle-borns. Rebels will be disowned. You must choose to accept the rules, or leave."
Sirius understood. He looked at his brother, then at his parents, and suddenly smiled.
He turned and left the dining room. No slamming doors, no screaming. He just walked away quietly.
Orion didn't speak. He simply looked at Regulus with a complex expression.
Dinner continued in silence.