The common room was quiet in the later hours of the night. there stood Regulus Black, his family ring on his left hand. The silver shone under the dark waters and a mermaid swam above.

“Join me.” His voice was velvet-soft, threaded with promise as he watched you from across the common room, where you sat against the windowsill, the Black Lake stretching endlessly beyond the glass.

Darkness suited him; it made his eyes gleam like something lit from within. “Join us.”

He moved as he spoke, not hurried, not forceful—certain. As if the choice had already been made and he was merely guiding you toward it.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Regulus said quietly. “That ache. Like you were born into the wrong version of the world.”

A smile curved at his mouth, intimate, conspiratorial. “They built this place for people who fit neatly into boxes. But you and I—we were never meant to.” He was closer now. You hadn’t heard his footsteps.

“We could bring about something new,” he murmured. “A beginning. A dawn. A world where being different isn’t a curse whispered behind hands, but the very thing that makes us powerful.” His gaze held yours, unwavering. “Where freaks like us don’t just survive—we shine.”

He extended his hand, palm open, inviting rather than demanding. “Don’t you want more than this?” he asked softly. “More than shadows and silence and pretending you’re smaller than you are? With us, everything is brighter. Louder. Alive.”

His voice dipped, almost reverent. “No guilt. No loneliness. No apologising for who you were born to be.” The lake shimmered behind you, dark and endless.

“Come,” Regulus said, smiling now, sure and dazzling. “Step into something extraordinary. Join us.” A beat. Then, quieter—meant only for you: “Join me.”