𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬

Treating Green and Silver

As the warm glow of the Great Hall's enchanted ceiling shimmered above them, the noise of students chattering and clinking silverware filled the space. Tonight's dinner seemed like any other – until a certain professor's voice rose above the buzz, catching the attention of those seated.

"Gryffindors welcome everyone with open arms," the professor declared, his tone almost self-righteous.

For a moment, the words hung in the air without challenge. Then, from the Slytherin table, a figure stood. Regulus Black's expression was icy, his dark eyes gleaming with indignation. He spoke, voice clear and cutting through the murmurs like a blade.

"Ha, please! Haven't you noticed how, for the past few years, every time a first year gets sorted into Slytherin, people boo?" The hall went silent, as if the very walls had paused to listen. Regulus continued, his tone growing sharper, laced with a frustration that had clearly been simmering for some time. "I shouldn't have to tell children on their first day at Hogwarts that they're going to be bullied, outcast, and hexed in the hallways for the next seven years just because they wear green and silver."

His gaze swept across the room, resting on the professors’ table for a moment, lingering on each of the adults who watched him with varying degrees of surprise, unease, or, in some cases, discomfort.

"As you all know," he said, with a bitter edge to his voice, "I have quite the issue with people who antagonize eleven-year-olds. And then you have the bloody audacity to wonder why all the Slytherins are joining the Dark Lord’s side?" Regulus let the question hang for a beat, his eyes hard and accusing. "They spent years at school being harassed and belittled by their peers—sometimes even staff members. So when someone offers them power and revenge, it’s no wonder they accept."

A hushed silence followed his words, heavy with a mixture of shame and reflection. Some of the Gryffindors shifted uncomfortably in their seats. A few Slytherins exchanged glances, a glimmer of appreciation flickering in their eyes for the young Black who had dared to speak the truth.

Regulus sat down without waiting for a response, his piece said and his defiance noted. The atmosphere of the Great Hall had shifted, a tension rippling through the students and staff alike. It was as though Regulus had peeled back a long-standing veil, revealing the uncomfortable truth that many had been content to ignore.

The professor who had spoken looked flustered, uncertain of how to respond, and the headmaster’s stern gaze swept over the tables, his brow furrowing ever so slightly. Yet no one else spoke, no one dared challenge what had just been said. In that moment, it was clear that Regulus had made his mark, and the conversation about what it truly meant to wear green and silver had only just begun.