i am a forest fire

→ NAME: regulus arcturus black ii → NICKNAMES: reg → AGE / D.O.B.: 20 years old / 31/12 → SPECIES: pureblood wizard  → GENDER / PRONOUNS: cis male / he&him  → SEXUALITY: bisexual  → RELATIONSHIP STATUS:  single

FAMILY 

→ PARENTS:  orion black, walburga black, amycus carrow → SIBLINGS: sirius black → COUSINS: bellatrix black, andromeda black, narcissa black, evan rosier, ? → PETS: elara (black fluffy cat), perseus (pallas cat, gift from amycus)

LIFESTYLE 

→ BORN:   london, england  → RAISED:   london, england  → CURRENT RESIDENCE: london, england (in his own flat, not grimmauld place tyvm) → NATIONALITY: english  → LANGUAGES: english, french, german → OCCUPATION: trainee healer (almost finished!), healer for the Death Eaters → DRINK | SMOKE | DRUGS: yes / yes / yes → RELIGION: no

PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES 

→ FACE CLAIM: timothee chalamet → HEIGHT: 5ft 10in → BUILD: thin, athletic → HAIR: dark brown, slightly curly → EYE COLOR: grey-green  → DOMINANT HAND: right  → SCENT: disinfectant, pine soap → NERVOUS HABITS: tends to study/work to avoid everything else, drugs

CHARACTER 

→ MORAL ALIGNMENT: true neutral → MBTI: INTP → WESTERN ZODIAC: summer said he’s a capricorn  → SONG: 

MAGIC 

→ WAND: elm, dittany stalk core, 10 in, inflexible  → PATRONUS: can’t make one, but it’d be a cat → BOGGART:  various family/friends dead from injuries he tried and failed to treat

BIO (tw drug abuse)

 you know the drill: heir and spare, reg was definitely the spare, learned to be seen & not heard / to do what was expected of him / to not get caught

he never understood why sirius felt the need to talk back-- obedience didn’t mean agreement, just fewer consequences. reg was a good liar from a young age, certified sneaky bastard by the time he started school

school went well. reg liked he predictability of it: if he worked hard, he’d get good grades. if he got good grades, he got more privileges and praise. he went all in on being top of the class, quidditch star, prefect, slug club, etc etc etc

less good with people-- tended to want almost everyone at arms’ length & used insults and arrogance to keep them there. looked down on those he thought weren’t putting in enough effort. 

because everything will be okay if you work hard enough, yeah?

always was good at potions, maybe too good. by the time he graduated, he’d started depending on them to keep his life together-- one to go up & one to come down, all that deal

got the dark mark right after he turned 16 (thrilled that the adults around him considered him worthy for the honour), older death eaters encouraged his interest in healing magic due to potential usefulness

started his traineeship the day after he finished school, working overtime to qualify as a healer as quickly as possible. specialises in emergency medicine.

started healing non-serious injuries for death eaters immediately, getting into more complicated things over time. so he’s seen his friends and family hurt on a regular basis, is often the one dealing with the aftermath when things have gone wrong

Bellatrix did not lower herself to manual labour. She most certainly didn’t partake in cleaning up a mess that she had a hand in. And frankly she thought any Black working on their hands and knees was a disgrace….and they had thought her cousins would be more appropriate heirs than her, the very thought of Sirius or Regulus being up to the task made her want to roll her eyes.

She slithered into the seat facing him, her head turning as she motioned to the bartender for a fire whiskey and a look on her face that told the man to be quick about delivering it to her before swivelling back to look at her cousin. This time her face let him know just how disappointed she was. “Idiots, honestly. Some bloody wizards, it’s taken them all day to clean this place up.” She shook her head at the incompetence she saw all around her. “I don’t see why they are expecting us to help with this wreck anyway.” As though she hadn’t been at least partially to blame for the chaos lining the street. “That’s what house elves are for.”

---

“I spend all my shifts fixing careless wizards,” Reg pointed out mildly, long since used to Bellatrix’s particular manner of speaking. It was blunt, always had been, but it was at least usually somewhat honest. “A while back, Sirius came in with a deep cut on his hand from some bar trick. Am’s gotten more critter bites than I can count, it’s a miracle he still had all his fingers.” Maybe Reg’s cat was the primary culprit, but that still counted for something-- Amycus had given him the damn cat. “If it makes you feel better, I got dragged out here to help sort out the Mulcibers’ shop. I wasn’t going around fixing ice cream parlours.”

 . 

Rodolphus had not been to see the aftermath of the explosions and the attack at Diagon Alley, and when he showed up that day, he could see why those in his closest circle had been so excited. The damage was extensive and the people lingering in the alley ways and neighboring shops seemed visibly distraught. His boots crunching on the broken glass which seemed to be everywhere, he recognized Regulus with all the people, spells cast and bandages aplenty, he chuckled darkly at his cousin by marriage’s offering of a suggestion. “Sometimes limiting the casualties to one instead of the masses makes the effect that much more prominent, don’t you think Regulus?” 

---

Regulus looked around, surprised that his cousin was speaking so openly. But the street was empty, or at least empty enough to talk so long as neither of them caused a scene. “I won’t pretend I know much about that kind of strategy,” he said evenly, as if he was discussing chess. Maybe he didn’t much like what’d happened, but that was something he was long used to hiding. “But I know that the system can handle one death and some broken windows. They’ll investigate, they’ll probably not find anything, and it’ll be forgotten about. But we only have one hospital, and only so many healers. A real raid on Diagon Alley, a daylight raid, is probably more than we have capacity to treat. I don’t think anyone’s going to like finding that out.”

     Ivy looked in the direction of his voice and she stared at him one moment in disbelief. It was only one man, yes but Ivy felt like this was just the beginning and apart from that, he was so young still. Barely an adult. How could he speak of it in such a way like it wasn’t a big deal? She bit her tongue and remained silent as she looked away. She wasn’t sure if it was even worth her time to explain how it shouldn’t have been anyone. She decided against it. Her usual spark wasn’t there and she felt a sort of heaviness that she didn’t have the patience for this.     She listened to what he said next and cleared her throat as she took a sip of her own drink. “People tend to react without thinking in times of tragedy. To be honest, that’s a good thing. Someone else could have died. A broken toe is ideal, isn’t it?” 

---

“It is a good thing,” Reg agreed. As much as he wanted to make some flippant comment about not wanting to be stuck at work for a century, that wasn’t quite true and so he put it aside. “A broken toe is nothing, it took longer to get his boot off than to heal it. He’ll barely have a bruise by morning and he’ll forget about it by next week. It just doesn’t seem.. fair, I guess, that someone died and the next worst thing was a broken toe that was the man’s own fault.”

who: @arctuurusregulus​ where: outside the leaky cauldron

Stevie is already sufficiently inebriated by the time she stumbles out of the leaky cauldron to have a cigarette. There is only one way to deal with the SOUL CRUSHING GUILT that sits heavy within and that is to drown it out with cheap shots and anything else she can get her hands on. She should have known - she should have warned someone - wasn’t that the reason she signed up for this role? to HELP, to PREVENT, to WARN. Yet all she does is FUCK UP again and again and again. The cost is getting greater and she is only getting weaker. stupid girl. She crouches against the pavement, glass in one hand and wand in the other - shaking fingers prevent her numerous attempts to light the stick dangling from her mouth. Mascara runs down her cheeks as frustration at everything only grows. 

When she spots a familiar head of hair, however, her entire face changes ‘‘ Reg ! ’’ Stevie calls, balancing her drink against the curb as she wipes her eyes ‘‘ Reg Reg Reg - I missed you ! ’’ a pause for a moment - I’m scared, help me, I’m drowning - the words linger unsaid.  ‘‘ can you take me home? ’’

---

Regulus was outside of the Leaky, having been taken away from his pint to heal what seemed to be the millionth broken-glass-related injury of the day, when he heard his name. He ignored it the first time, thinking that the latest glass-grabbing idiot could wait their damn turn, but then someone called again. And damn, he recognised that voice.

He mumbled something about going to Mugo’s if the cut reopened at the person he’d been healing, already turning away to look for Stevie. What he saw wasn’t great-- could be worse, had been worse, but certainly could be a hell of a lot better.

“Missed you too. It’s been a hell of a day, hasn’t it?” Reg took the cigarette from her, lighting it easily before handing it back. There was one problem solved, the exhausted gears of his mind turning everything into a checklist of things to fix. Just keep moving and it’ll all be fine, right? “My flat’s only a couple blocks from here-- think you’ll be okay to walk if you hold onto me?”

for: open (related to plot drop 001) location: diagon alley, outside flourish & blotts

For the past few nights, Sybill had felt undeniably uneasy. Sleep was troublesome- hardly coming at all, and when it did, less restful than simply staying awake would have been. Her appetite had been up and down, and there were many times (more than usual) in which she found herself needing to sneak away and clear her head. Really, the signs should have been obvious, and yet she forced herself to believe her restless state was nothing more than her own mind playing tricks on her. Arriving at work that morning, however, stopped her in her tracks, feeling as though her blood had turned to ice. Suddenly, it all made sense- everything she’d been feeling and experiencing. The sight of the destroyed shops, the knowledge that a young man had lost his life…Sybill felt nothing more than sick. Leaning her back against the brick’s of Flourish & Blotts exterior, Sybill ran her fingers through her curls, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. Hearing a set of approaching footsteps she glanced up, shaking her head before dropping her eyes once more. “We’re closed for the day, at least. If you’re in desperate need I can probably sneak you something out the back, but…I’m hoping you’re not in desperate need.”

---

“I’m not here for books,” Regulus said, looking around at the destroyed alley in a way that he hoped conveyed ‘obviously’. He had half a mind to be offended that she thought he’d be shopping right now, amidst all the chaos-- it wasn’t as if Diagon Alley was the only shopping street in the world and it wasn’t as if he didn’t have eyes. “My dad's on some Habitat for Humanity kick, so he told me to ask around to see if anyone needs healing.”

Regulus had many other things he’d rather have done on a day off, but Amycus had kept going on about cleanup and the Mulcibers’ shop and the owl shop. Next thing Reg knew, it was evening and he’d spent the entire day casting repair spells and healing the ten thousandth person who’d tried to pick up broken glass with their bare hands. The pint in his hand was well-earned, goddammit.

“At least it was only the one man, right?” he said, making a face once he realised how that sounded. “I mean, I heard about the attack and thought it’d be all hands on deck at Mugo’s. Diagon Alley, y’know? But the worst thing I healed today was a broken toe-- someone dropped a brick on their foot.”