He wouldn’t ever admit he liked the thrill of hearing his victims claw at the floors to try and stop the knife that kept plunging into their flesh. Regulus Black was supposed to be the Heir of Black, and he was, but he liked to have his own little twisted game when he became a Death Eater. Well, him and Barty, that is.

Students at Hogwarts spoke so vile on his name and any other Pureblood that was rumored to be the Dark Lords trusty follower. He used to not pay no mind to it. It never mattered to him. After all, they were just words. But after so many times of clenching his jaw and rolling his eyes, he got tired of staying silent.

And with that, he started killing. Barty made the calls most times, and Regulus did the killing. Sometimes they’d switch it up, but it really depended on the victim. He grew up with Barty, and, well, you, but did that stop him from thinking about turning you into a violent little thing? No. It never did. He was a bit too obsessed for his own good.