In the spring of 1966, Regulus Black turned five years old.
For most children, turning five meant games, toys, and perhaps the first day of school. But for a child born into the House of Black, it meant something very different.
It meant the beginning of formal family education.
Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at exactly three in the afternoon, Walburga Black conducted what she proudly called Family Glory Lessons in the small study on the second floor of Grimmauld Place.
The study itself felt more like a shrine than a classroom.
Covering the entire wall opposite the desk was the Black family tree tapestry, a massive woven record stretching from ceiling to floor. Gold and silver threads glimmered faintly against the dark fabric, tracing a thousand years of marriages, alliances, and births. Names overlapped and branched like a living web, connecting the House of Black to countless other ancient wizarding families.
Every thread represented blood.
Every name represented heritage.
And every omission represented disgrace.
Monday: Genealogy
"Look here."
Walburga pointed her slender ebony pointer toward the uppermost corner of the tapestry.
"Linfred Black, a twelfth-century Healer," she said with clear pride. "The acknowledged progenitor of our family."
Regulus sat straight on a hardwood chair, hands neatly placed on his knees. His dark eyes followed the tip of the pointer carefully as it traced lines across the tapestry.
"Regulus," Walburga said suddenly, "repeat what I just explained."
Without hesitation, the boy answered calmly.
"Between 1578 and 1623, the House of Black intermarried with the Rosier family four times and the Foley family three times. These alliances were further strengthened through marriages with the Crouch and Travers families, forming a stable network of pure-blood relations."
Walburga nodded approvingly.
Then she turned toward the other child in the room.
"And you, Sirius?"
Sirius Black squirmed in his chair, his expression clearly miserable.
"Who could remember all that?" he groaned. "They're just names of dead people."
Walburga's eyes narrowed immediately.
"They are your ancestors."
"Dead is dead," Sirius muttered under his breath.
Walburga's face darkened instantly. The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
Just as she looked ready to explode, Regulus spoke calmly.
"Mother, I have a question."
Walburga paused, her anger momentarily interrupted.
"Speak."
Regulus pointed to an earlier section of the tapestry.
"Why is it that after the fourteenth century, the Black family only intermarried with the Sacred Twenty-Eight families?"
His finger traced several older names.
"According to the tapestry, between the twelfth and fourteenth centuries, the Black family also intermarried with the Prewett, Macmillan, and even the Bones families. But those alliances stopped later. Why?"
Walburga's expression stiffened.
"For a very simple reason," she said coldly. "Those families fell into degeneracy."
"How did they fall?"
"They began accepting Muggle-borns," Walburga replied sharply. "Some even married Muggles themselves."
Her voice became increasingly stern.
"Their bloodlines became contaminated. The House of Black has always upheld its duty to maintain purity."
Regulus tilted his head slightly.
"But the Prewett family is still listed among the Sacred Twenty-Eight."
"That list was a compromise!" Walburga snapped. "A foolish document created by the Ministry of Magic."
Her pointer struck the tapestry sharply, making several nearby portraits flinch.
"True pure-blood families are becoming fewer and fewer," she continued with fervor. "We are the last lighthouse standing in a corrupted world."
Regulus listened quietly.
The logic was understandable, at least within the context of a magical society where abilities were inherited through bloodlines.
But attributing everything to blood purity alone was far too simplistic.
Out of the corner of his eye, Regulus glanced at Sirius.
He already knew something important.
Sirius would never accept this ideology.
And perhaps… that was for the best.
A strange thought suddenly crossed Regulus's mind.
Maybe Sirius should leave the Black family.
The idea surprised even him.
But the more he thought about it, the more logical it seemed.
In the future, the House of Black would inevitably support Lord Voldemort.
Almost all of them.
Except Sirius… and Andromeda.
If Sirius was destined to rebel, perhaps leaving early and joining the opposing side would increase his chances of surviving the coming war.
As for himself…
The identity of Regulus Black was destined to walk a darker path.
He needed the resources of the Black family, their political influence, their connections within the pure-blood aristocracy.
Only by standing close to the core of the Death Eaters could he learn what he needed to know.
He and Sirius were already walking down two separate roads.
Roads that would eventually collide.
Wednesday: Blood Supremacy
"Muggles are deficient creatures."
Walburga paced back and forth across the study, as she often did when becoming passionate about a subject.
"They possess no magic," she continued. "Just as a bird without wings cannot fly, or a fish without gills cannot breathe underwater, Muggles are failures of evolution."
Sirius raised his hand suddenly.
This was something Regulus had quietly taught him: raising your hand made Mother less likely to see the comment as outright defiance.
Walburga stopped pacing.
"Speak."
"But Muggles can build airplanes," Sirius said.
"They can fly even without wings."
Walburga sneered dismissively.
"A crude imitation. A noisy machine made of metal and fuel. It pollutes the air and lacks elegance."
She lifted her chin proudly.
"A wizard's broomstick is far superior — graceful, quiet, and environmentally friendly."
"But airplanes fly higher," Sirius insisted.
"They're faster too," Regulus added calmly.
"They can also carry hundreds of people."
The room suddenly fell silent.
Walburga slowly turned toward her second son.
"Are you defending Muggles?"
"I'm stating facts," Regulus replied.
His tone remained calm and analytical.
"If wizards are truly superior, then we should surpass them in every field."
He folded his hands neatly.
"If the only advantage we claim is that magic looks more elegant, while they surpass us in speed, altitude, and transportation capacity… then who is truly superior?"
Sirius inhaled sharply.
He was absolutely certain their mother would explode.
But surprisingly—
Walburga did not explode.
She simply stood there, stunned.
Her lips moved slightly, but no words came out.
Regulus continued.
"Perhaps the issue isn't superiority at all. Perhaps it's simply a difference in development."
"Muggles develop technology. Wizards develop magic."
"But if we remain satisfied with tradition while Muggle technology keeps advancing, the gap between us may one day become impossible to ignore."
Walburga struggled to respond.
"The Statute of Secrecy protects us," she said weakly.
Regulus shook his head slightly.
"The Statute of Secrecy only works as long as Muggles cannot detect magic."
"What if they develop instruments capable of detecting magical energy?"
"What if they invent devices that can see through a Disillusionment Charm?"
"What if they create machines capable of bypassing Muggle-Repelling Charms?"
He paused.
"While we are still arguing about blood purity."
Walburga remained silent for a long time.
Finally she said quietly,
"That's enough for today."
Then she left the room rather quickly.
Sirius leaned toward Regulus.
"You scared her."
"Perhaps," Regulus said as he hopped down from his chair.
"But someone needs to say the truth."
Sirius frowned.
"Why are you defending Muggles?"
"I'm not defending them," Regulus replied.
"I simply dislike lies."
"If we are truly powerful, we don't need to belittle others in order to prove it."
Sirius nodded slowly.
Though it was clear he only understood half of what his brother meant.
Dinner That Evening
During dinner that night, Walburga mentioned some gossip she had heard.
"The Nott family's daughter intends to marry a mudblood."
Her tone was filled with disgust.
"Mr. Nott was so furious he locked her in a tower. It is said she will be sent to a French convent for the rest of her life."
Sirius stopped cutting his steak.
"Why?" he asked.
"She likes him, doesn't she?"
Walburga looked as though she had heard the most ridiculous thing imaginable.
"Likes him?"
She scoffed.
"Can 'liking' maintain the purity of a bloodline?"
"Can it preserve family honor?"
"She has simply been deluded."
"But if two people like each other—"
"Enough!"
Walburga's voice became shrill.
"Sirius! How many times must I warn you? Do not let that filthy Muggle thinking pollute your mind!"
"A member of the House of Black must uphold responsibility!"
Sirius suddenly stood up.
"Responsibility means locking your daughter in a tower?"
His chair scraped loudly against the floor.
"Responsibility means separating two people who love each other?"
"She doesn't love him!" Walburga snapped.
"How do you know?" Sirius shouted.
"You're not her!"
"You've never even met the man!"
At that moment, Orion Black finally spoke.
He set down his cutlery calmly.
"Sirius. Sit down."
"I won't!"
Sirius's eyes were red with emotion.
"It isn't fair!"
"Why can't we choose the people we love?"
"Why do we have to marry someone from the Sacred Twenty-Eight?"
"I don't even know those people!"
"What if I don't like any of them?"
Walburga stood abruptly.
Her wand was already sliding into her hand.
"Say that again?"
Regulus watched the entire scene quietly.
Sirius's rebellious nature was fully visible now.
He didn't even understand what love truly meant yet.
He simply instinctively resisted oppression.
And Walburga—
Walburga was applying constant pressure, trying to mold him into the perfect pure-blood heir.
"Mother," Regulus said calmly.
"Sirius only means that feelings are an important factor when choosing a partner."
"But from the perspective of family continuity, bloodline stability is also important."
He paused thoughtfully.
"Perhaps the two can be balanced."
"For example… choosing someone you like within the Sacred Twenty-Eight."
Walburga hesitated.
Her anger slowly cooled.
"Well… yes," she admitted.
"If affection exists within the proper range, that would certainly be preferable."
But Sirius stared at Regulus with a wounded expression.
"Are you on their side too?"
"Do you also think bloodlines matter more than love?"
Regulus met his brother's gaze.
"I'm talking about reality."
"The reality is that the Black family will never accept Muggle-borns."
"Anyone who rebels will be disowned."
"You have only two choices."
"Accept the rules…"
"Or leave."
Sirius looked at him for a long moment.
Then he looked at their parents.
Suddenly—
He smiled.
Without shouting.
Without slamming the door.
He simply turned and walked out of the dining room.
Silently.
Orion said nothing.
But he looked at Regulus with a strange, complicated expression.
Dinner continued.
In silence.