At 10:47 a.m. on September 1st, 1972, Regulus Black came to a stop before the brick wall between Platforms Nine and Ten at King's Cross Station.
The eleven-year-old was tall for his age, dressed in a dark green robe pressed to perfection. A Black family crest was pinned neatly at his collar.
His hair was a deep, pure black, carrying the Black family's signature slight curl. Gray eyes swept calmly over the crowd.
In his left hand was a brand-new dragon-hide trunk. Walburga had insisted on the most expensive option. In his right, a cage holding a snowy owl.
The owl stood quietly inside, amber eyes observing the surroundings through the bars. Unlike the others nearby, it didn't flap or fuss, only turning its head now and then.
Regulus drew a slow breath in.
Beyond this wall was another world. A world he'd read about for ten years, a world he was finally about to enter.
He stepped forward.
The sensation was like passing through warm mist. Then sound rushed in all at once.
A living, chaotic clamor. Owls screeching in a discordant chorus. Cats yowling from baskets. Shrill cries as toads leapt from unfastened pockets. Parents shouting last-minute instructions. Children yelling so loudly their voices cracked with excitement.
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
The Hogwarts Express lay along the tracks like a massive crimson beast, white steam pouring from its engine and pooling beneath the arched roof in rolling clouds.
Students surged toward the doors in waves. Robes of every color blended into a shifting sea.
Regulus stayed where he was, gaze sweeping calmly across the platform.
He spotted the Potter family. Charlus and Euphemia Potter stood not far off, wearing the gentle smiles of ordinary parents seeing their child off to school.
Four people clustered around them.
James Potter stood at the front, brown hair as if it had just lost a fight with a hurricane, glasses crooked on his nose.
He was flailing his arms, demonstrating something exaggerated to a thin boy carrying a battered suitcase. That was Remus Lupin.
Peter Pettigrew hovered half a step behind James, short and round-faced, eyes darting nervously in every direction.
Sirius Black lounged against a stack of luggage.
At thirteen, he'd grown another inch since the previous summer, his shoulders starting to take on a young man's shape.
He wore the Muggle jeans Walburga despised, faded from wear, frayed at the knees, paired with a plain dark shirt. Over it all was a Gryffindor robe, thrown on carelessly.
The robe had clearly been altered. The silver trim at the collar had been dyed red and gold, and faint traces of an embroidered lion lingered at the cuffs.
James said something, and Sirius tipped his head back and laughed. It was an easy laugh, loose and unguarded, rising straight from his chest. One arm draped over Remus's shoulder, the other gesturing animatedly.
Then his eyes swept the platform and landed on Regulus.
The laughter faded naturally.
He didn't look away. He didn't nod or signal either. He simply watched, twenty feet apart, separated by the noise and the crowd.
Then James noticed too.
"Hey!" James shouted, his voice cutting cleanly through the din. "Look who it is! A little black snake slithering in early to get used to the place?"
Heads turned. Students and parents alike looked over.
Sirius rested a hand on James's shoulder. It was light, but James immediately shut his mouth. Sirius said nothing, only shook his head, then turned and pulled open a carriage door, climbing aboard first.
James followed. Remus and Peter trailed after him. Just before boarding, James glanced back at Regulus once more, curiosity and hostility mingling in his eyes.
Regulus lifted his trunk and headed toward the middle of the train.
James Potter wasn't worth his attention.
Inside, the Hogwarts Express was more spacious than it appeared from the outside, a textbook application of the Extension Charm.
A deep red carpet lined the corridor. Sliding doors stood on either side, most already closed, voices and laughter leaking through the seams.
Regulus moved quietly along the aisle.
At the third carriage, a door stood open. He caught a glimpse inside.
James had already shed his robe and was trying to stick a Chocolate Frog card to the ceiling.
Peter was hunched over his luggage. Remus sat by the window with a worn copy of A History of Magic in his hands.
Sirius sat across from him, boots propped on an empty seat, idly flicking a Golden Snitch model he'd acquired from somewhere.
Sirius looked up.
His gaze met Regulus's through the open door.
Then he looked down again and kept playing with the Snitch, as if nothing had happened.
Regulus walked on.
Several carriages later, most were full. Near the seventh, he spotted two familiar figures.
A red-haired girl with green eyes and faint freckles. She wore a simple black robe, clean and well-kept, with a plain silver pin at her collar. Lily Evans, a second-year.
Beside her stood a black-haired boy with greasy hair and sallow skin. His robe was clearly secondhand and hastily altered, the cuffs worn thin. Severus Snape, also a second-year.
They were speaking in low voices. Snape leaned forward as he talked, words tumbling out quickly, fingers tracing shapes in the air. Lily listened intently, nodding now and then.
As Regulus passed, Snape glanced up.
He noticed the trunk in Regulus's hand. The owl cage. The finely tailored, expensive dark green traveling robe.
His lips pressed together slightly. Something sharp flickered through his eyes, a mix of hostility and wariness.
Then he looked away and continued talking to Lily.
Regulus reached the ninth carriage.
It was empty.
He stowed his trunk on the rack, slid the owl cage beneath the seat across from him, and sat down. From inside his robe, he took out a notebook.
He flipped to the most recent page.
The relationship between ancient runic variants and magic flow efficiency.
Below it sprawled dense symbols, formulas, and diagrams. Some were standard ancient runes. Most were his own refined variants.
He dipped his quill and began recording the thoughts he'd had the night before.
The train pulled away from London's outskirts. Dense buildings gave way to scattered farmhouses, then wide, rolling fields. The sky hung low and gray, heavy with the promise of rain.
The compartment door was suddenly yanked open and slammed against the wall with a dull thud.
Regulus looked up only after finishing a complex curve.
He didn't need to see who it was. He'd sensed it before they even reached the door.
"Well, well, look who it is!" James Potter's voice rang with theatrical exaggeration. "Little Lord Black, sitting here alone, studying Dark Magic?"
Regulus didn't react. He simply watched the performance.
To him, even as a second-year, James Potter was no different from a child.
James stepped inside. Remus and Peter followed. Remus looked uneasy. Peter clutched the doorframe, tense, as if ready to bolt.
"I'm talking to you!" James leaned down in front of Regulus, glaring. "I hear you push Sirius around at home. Play the good kid and steal all the attention, is that it?"
"James," Remus said quietly. "Don't."
"Don't what?" James straightened, his hand already slipping toward the inner pocket of his robe.
Regulus found it faintly amusing. He had no idea how Sirius had described him to his friends, for James to believe he'd been bullied.
"James!"
Sirius's voice came from the corridor. He appeared in the doorway, breathing slightly hard.
He looked at James. "I told you not to come."
"I'm just looking!" James shot back. "It's not like he bites—"
At that moment, two more figures hurried over.
Lily Evans and Severus Snape.
Snape took in the scene with a single glance, a curl of mockery tugging at his mouth. "Lively as ever. Potter picking on first-years again?"
James spun around. "What's it to you, Snivellus?"
Then he noticed Lily behind him, his tone turning sharper. "And you. Always sticking your nose in, Evans."
Snape's face darkened instantly. His hand went for his wand.
Lily grabbed his arm. "Severus, don't!"
James was faster.
"Expelliarmus!"
A red bolt shot toward Snape.
The compartment was narrow. They stood less than ten feet apart. The spell reached Snape almost instantly.
A wand slid into Regulus's left hand as if it had always belonged there.
He gave the slightest flick of his wrist. No force. No drama.
The spell stopped.
Frozen in midair.
The red light took shape, the Disarming Charm now a glowing ribbon, one end tethered to the tip of James's wand, the other hanging half a foot from Snape's chest, utterly still.
The entire carriage fell silent.