[Hp]nobody Else Our Story

Dear Rowling gave us a magical world, but did not give Regulus a complete story. This article is dedicated to Regulus, the unknown hero from Slytherin. --------------- Things to note: This article is excerpted from Sunnylemon116 Post Bar. The editor accidentally discovered that I really like the character RAB, and excerpted it for the convenience of reading. I would like to recommend to you the unknown story of Regulus Black. Tribute to the original author. ---------------------------------- Perhaps, before going to Hogwarts, before knowing the evil of pure blood theory, before being exposed to the cruelty of reality, before becoming a Death Eater, he naively thought that he and his brother and mother would be happy until the end. He naively thought that everything could still go back to the way it was before. Perhaps, he has always loved his mother deeply. Although she is a blood believer, she is still a mother after all. When Mrs. Black screamed at Sirius, he would rush to dissuade her, and then desperately maintain the balance between these two polarizing people. He chose to be a Death Eater, perhaps just to protect the safety of his pure-blood family, or perhaps just because of the wonderful promises and illusory future given by Voldemort. Perhaps, he has also imagined so many beautiful, attractive, and untouchable futures. Whether it was the powerful and generous salary from the Ministry of Magic, or just a moment of lazy happiness in the afternoon, the cat was sleeping lazily on his knees, the shadow of ivy crawled across the floor-to-ceiling windows painted golden by the sun, and the moist and fragrant writing left on the parchment by the quill after it was soaked in ink would still reflect slightly. Maybe he might have a few more children, and he would watch them grow, and then time would make his hair grow white... At least nineteen years later, there would still be such a long, long time. Maybe he likes to go to Three Broomsticks on weekends to drink butterbeer, and likes the cream-colored foam that refracts dazzlingly in the sun, as unreal as his future. Maybe he also had a few friends who would play pranks on others, and then several boys would hold up their wands and laugh. They were sitting in the Slytherin common room, talking about the so-called dark arts like games or Quidditch. There is no such thing as a heartfelt oath. Perhaps, some of them became Death Eaters, losing their humanity behind the cold masks and betraying the innocence of youth. Some shrewdly and tactfully avoided this world of disputes, and were not heard from at all in the long period of time afterwards. Perhaps, he helped Slytherin House catch the Golden Snitch many times. James sat on the broom and scratched his head unwillingly. The Quidditch field was full of laughter and cheers. He stayed quietly in the air, looking down at the crowd, holding the Snitch that was trying to break away, and standing at a distance from the laughter until they were gradually blown away by the mountain wind blowing from the other end of the Forbidden Forest. The golden Snitch flew away. Maybe, as a kind man, he had raised a cat, an ugly owl, or even an ordinary mouse, or a snake exactly like the one on the Slytherin badge, but he still doted on it like he doted on the elf Kreacher. He knows that every life, good or evil, has its meaning. Perhaps, he had hesitated after learning Voldemort's secret, but he had no choice. He wrote the note, leaving it to the Dark Lord, with the persistence of a young man, and every word was sonorous. "I know I will be dead long... I face death in the hope..." He looked at his death calmly and declared with childish pride that he had discovered Voldemort's secret. He was no longer his slave, his servant. He would never use the life of an innocent house elf to further his own ends. Perhaps, one year during the cold and humid winter in London, he was walking in the wind, with the rustling of gray ice water under his feet. He wrapped his robe tightly in the wind, raised his head and looked at the clean pure gray sky, and began to dream about the next spring, and then in the fantasy, more fantasies sank to the bottom of the deep lake at the age of nineteen. … … We have no way of knowing this. R. A. B., We speculate about the owner of the note, but this is all Harry's story. Dear Rowling gave us a magical world, but did not give Regulus a complete story. This article is dedicated to Regulus, the unknown hero from Slytherin. Purpose: Give Mr. R. A. B a complete story