Regulus A. Black /bl

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The idea of ​​revealing to someone he harbored romantic feelings for that he was a trans boy awakened in Regulus an even deeper fear than any other. Falling in love meant allowing another person to know parts of himself he had spent his life hiding, and that terrified him. He feared that affection would disappear the moment they discovered his past, that desire would turn into estrangement, and that the person he loved would only see him by his birth name or the body that caused him so much suffering.

As much as he longed to be loved for who he truly was, insecurity always prevailed. Regulus imagined countless ways that conversation could end in rejection, disappointment, or silence, convincing himself that it would be easier to push someone away before creating impossible expectations. Still, a part of him dreamed of hearing that none of this changed the other person's feelings. Deep down, he didn't want to be loved despite being trans, but simply as Regulus. He believed that this would be the only kind of love capable of making him feel, for the first time, truly enough.

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The idea of ​​telling someone he was a trans boy always sparked a silent conflict within Regulus. Each new person represented a difficult choice between remaining safe behind silence or risking rejection once again. His own family's reactions had taught him that revealing who he truly was could transform kind glances into contempt, common words into insults, and important bonds into painful memories. Therefore, he had learned to carefully consider who he trusted before sharing such an intimate part of himself.

Even when he wanted to speak, the words seemed to get stuck in his throat. The fear of hearing his birth name again, of having his identity ridiculed, or of being treated as a lie weighed more than the desire to finally be understood. Still, a small hope persisted. Regulus believed that perhaps there were people capable of seeing beyond prejudice, just as Sirius and Andromeda had done. It was this hope, however fragile, that prevented him from completely giving up on the idea of ​​trusting someone and allowing them to know who he really was.

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In Regulus's eyes, his own body had always seemed a strange place, as if it had never truly belonged to him. Every reflection in the mirror stirred a discomfort difficult to explain, constantly reminding him of the distance between who he was and the image the world insisted on seeing. He avoided looking at his own reflection for long, hid his curves under loose clothing whenever he could, and felt a silent tightness every time he was forced to wear something that highlighted features he had never recognized as his own.

Even on days when he tried to ignore this feeling, the discomfort remained present in small details. He crossed his arms over his chest almost unconsciously, kept his shoulders hunched, and avoided any situation that drew attention to his body. There were times when he simply wished he could wake up and recognize his own image, without feeling that something was wrong in front of the mirror. The suffering was never in being Regulus, but in living trapped in a body that didn't reflect who he truly was. Still, he refused to abandon his identity, clinging to the hope that one day he would be able to look at himself without feeling trapped by someone else's appearance.

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In Regulus's eyes, Slytherin had always evoked contradictory feelings. From the moment the Sorting Hat announced his house, he had felt proud to follow the Black family tradition, but that pride had never remained intact for long. Among his classmates, he had found intelligent, determined, and ambitious people, but he had also lived daily with prejudice, suffocating expectations, and the constant pressure to live up to the ideal of a true Slytherin. Often, it seemed that changing who he was mattered less than hiding any sign of vulnerability.

Despite the difficulties, Regulus had learned to admire some of the house's qualities. He valued the loyalty built among a few classmates, the encouragement of intelligence, and the determination he saw in the students around him. Even so, he could never ignore the weight of the traditions surrounding Slytherin, especially when they clashed with the values ​​imposed by his family. There were days when he wondered if he truly belonged in that house or if he had only been placed there because he carried the Black surname. Even so, he continued to believe that Slytherin could represent much more than the prejudices defended by some of its members.

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In Regulus's eyes, Black Manor had never felt like home. The imposing dark walls, the silent corridors, and the portraits of ancestors conveyed a constant sense of surveillance, as if every step were being watched and judged. There was no room for mistakes, doubts, or weaknesses; everything had to meet the family's expectations. Each room carried memories of arguments, punishments, and cruel words, making even the silence seem too heavy to bear. Inside that house, breathing freely had never been a possibility.

Even though he knew every corridor since childhood, Regulus had always felt like a stranger in that place. His room was the only space where he could let his guard down, although even there he didn't find true peace. Outside the door, just hearing Walburga's voice echoing through the corridors was enough to make all sense of security vanish. The mansion had become a prison built not of bars, but of the constant fear of disappointing his family. For Regulus, the House of Black had never meant protection or belonging. It only represented the place where he had learned, from a very young age, that existing could be as painful as surviving.

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In Regulus's eyes, Hogwarts represented a constant contrast between freedom and suffering. Away from Black Manor, he breathed a little more easily, as if the castle corridors allowed him to exist without the constant weight of his parents' watchful eye. Even so, the school had never been a true refuge. There were curious glances, malicious comments, and classmates who made a point of reminding him that he was different. Even far from home, the fear of being judged never completely left him.

Despite this, Regulus found moments at Hogwarts that he would never have experienced within the walls of the mansion. The long nights in the library, the magic classes, and the silence by the lake became small refuges for a constantly restless mind. Walking through the corridors without hearing Walburga call him Stella already seemed like a silent victory. It was there that he met people who saw him for who he truly was, even if they were few. For Regulus, Hogwarts had never been perfect, but it remained the place where, for the first time, he discovered that there was a world much larger than the prejudices cultivated by the Black family.

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Regulus possessed a discreet beauty, marked by delicate features that contrasted with the constantly serious expression he carried. His face was thin, with very fair skin and almost without imperfections, highlighting his deep, grey eyes, always attentive to what was happening around him. His dark, slightly wavy hair fell unpretentiously over his forehead, almost hiding part of his gaze. There was something melancholic in his appearance, as if weariness and worries had aged his eyes prematurely.

His body was slender and of medium height, a result of both the Black family's genetics and the little care he usually took of himself. He kept his shoulders discreetly hunched and walked with a reserved posture, avoiding drawing attention wherever he went. His clothes were almost always dark, well-tailored, and discreet, reflecting the strict upbringing he had received since childhood. Despite his elegant appearance, there were small details that betrayed his insecurity: his arms frequently crossed over his chest, his sleeves pulled up to his hands, and the constant habit of avoiding his own reflection whenever he encountered a mirror along the way.

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Regulus's personality was marked by contrasts that were difficult to understand. Most of the time, he seemed calm and controlled, but it only took someone to touch on his insecurities for all his patience to vanish. He harbored an old anger, built up over years of humiliation and demands, which frequently exploded in impulsive arguments or fits of rage that even he couldn't control. After each outburst, regret came almost immediately, accompanied by a heavy silence and the guilt of having lost control once again.

Insecurity plagued Regulus in virtually every aspect of his life, especially in how he perceived his own body. He avoided mirrors whenever possible and rarely believed anyone who said he looked good. He constantly compared himself to others and felt he would never be enough, no matter how hard he tried to change. He was distrustful, proud, and had difficulty accepting help, preferring to face everything alone. Yet, behind his explosive temper and defensive posture, there was an extremely sensitive boy who desperately wanted to be accepted without having to fight every day to prove he deserved to exist.

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To those who observed him, Regulus had always seemed an excessively reserved boy. He maintained an upright posture, spoke in a low voice, and measured each gesture with almost automatic care, as if he had learned early on that occupying little space was the best way to survive. He rarely showed what he felt, preferring to hide his pain behind a calm and obedient expression. Many mistook that silence for coldness, when, in fact, he had simply spent years believing that any display of weakness would be used against him.

Despite his reserved appearance, Regulus possessed a sensitivity that few came to know. He was observant, intelligent, and extremely loyal to the people he trusted, even if it took him a while to open his heart. He usually carried the weight of his own fears alone, convinced that his problems shouldn't bother anyone. The constant rejection from his family had given rise to a deep feeling of inadequacy, but it hadn't destroyed his capacity to care for others. Deep down, he remained someone who only wished to find a place where he could exist without having to hide who he really was.

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In Regulus's eyes, Andromeda had always seemed different from the rest of the Black family. She possessed a quiet gentleness that demanded neither explanation nor judgment, something rare within that household. While the others insisted on seeing Stella, Andromeda made a point of calling him Regulus, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She never showed strangeness or disdain; she only treated him with a silent respect that, for him, meant far more than grand speeches or promises of protection.

Regulus never forgot the few moments they spent together before Andromeda was taken away from the family. She never tried to convince him he was wrong, nor did she ask him to hide who he was to avoid conflict. Instead, she offered listening, understanding, and the assurance that he didn't need to change to deserve affection. After she was disinherited, the house seemed even emptier. Regulus began to miss that quiet presence that reminded him that there were still people capable of seeing him beyond the cruel expectations imposed by the Black name.

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In Regulus's eyes, Narcissa had always seemed kinder than the rest of the family, but this kindness never meant acceptance. She never insulted him with Bellatrix's violence nor resorted to Walburga's screams, yet her words carried an elegant coldness that hurt just the same. She made a point of calling him Stella when they were among relatives and acted as if ignoring his identity was merely a demonstration of politeness and respect for the Black family traditions. Her contempt came disguised as good manners.

Regulus believed that Narcissa truly cared for him, but only as long as he met the expectations she deemed correct. Whenever he tried to talk about who he was, he was met with a restrained smile and carefully chosen phrases designed to convince him he was wrong. She said everything would be easier if he left that "phase" behind and went back to acting as they expected. Regulus had never been able to hate her as much as he hated Bellatrix, precisely because part of him still wanted to believe that one day Narcissa would be able to see him as he truly was, and not as Stella.

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In Regulus's eyes, Bellatrix had always seemed capable of turning any environment into a hostile place. Her presence carried a weight that made silence seem safer than any attempt at conversation. She never missed an opportunity to humiliate him, using Stella's name with evident pleasure and hurling sharp words as if each insult had been carefully chosen to open a new wound. Regulus had learned to hide any reaction, knowing that showing pain only amused his cousin even more.

What frightened him most wasn't Bellatrix's tone of voice, but the conviction with which she uttered those cruelties. She truly believed he was a disgrace to the family, a mistake that needed to be corrected or erased. She always found a new way to ridicule him, whether in front of relatives or when they were alone. Regulus had never expected affection from her, but her words still echoed long after she was gone. Bellatrix had made a point of reminding him, countless times, that for the Blacks, his existence would never be enough to erase the image of Stella they insisted on seeing.

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In Regulus's eyes, Sirius Black had always been the only person capable of making him feel that he existed beyond the surname he carried. While the whole family insisted on telling him who he should be, Sirius simply accepted him as Regulus, without demanding explanations or justifications. He was impulsive, defiant, and often ended up in arguments for defending him, but even when they fought amongst themselves, Regulus never doubted that his brother truly saw him.

Still, the relationship between the two had never ceased to be complicated. Regulus admired Sirius's courage in confronting his family, but he also envied the ease with which he seemed to defy Walburga and Orion without backing down. He often wondered if he would ever possess the same strength. Despite their differences and the paths they chose to follow, Sirius remained his safe haven. Just hearing him call him Regulus made the weight of his family's cruel words seem a little lighter. In his brother's presence, for the first time, he felt he didn't need to prove who he was to deserve to be loved.

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In Regulus's eyes, Orion Black was an impossible man to decipher. Unlike Walburga, who transformed her disapproval into shouts and insults, Orion made silence his cruelest weapon. He never needed to raise his voice to hurt him; an indifferent look or a short phrase was enough to make it clear that he would never consider him the son he was expecting. Regulus had grown up trying to win over his pride, but every attempt ended the same way: ignored, discarded, or met with a coldness that seemed endless.

Over the years, Regulus stopped seeking approval from that man. He realized that Orion would never see who he truly was, only the image of the ideal son he had constructed in his own mind. Even so, each display of indifference weighed like a sentence. There were days when Orion wouldn't even pronounce his name, as if his presence were irrelevant within his own home. Regulus learned not to expect praise, gestures of affection, or any sign of pride. All that remained was the bitter certainty that, for his father, he would never be enough, regardless of how much he tried to meet the Black family's expectations.

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In Regulus's eyes, Walburga Black had never been a nurturing mother figure. She represented authority, fear, and the constant feeling that any mistake would make him even more unworthy of the surname he bore. Since he began living as Regulus, he realized that her love had always been conditional on absolute obedience. The more he tried to be true to himself, the more distant Walburga became, replacing any display of affection with contempt, criticism, and carefully calculated punishments.

Regulus had learned to recognize his mother's silence as well as her screams. He knew that a simple disapproving look was enough to make him question his own existence. Even so, a part of him still wished that, for just a moment, Walburga would see him as a son and not as a shame to be corrected. He had never received that moment. Instead, he had grown up hearing that he was a mistake, a disappointment, and a stain on the Black family. Gradually, he stopped expecting affection. All that remained was the silent hope of one day being able to live free from the shadow of the woman he most feared disappointing.

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Unlike most of the Black family, Andromeda Tonks did not see Stella's transition to Regulus as a shame. From the moment she noticed her cousin's constant suffering, she understood that it wasn't a phase, nor childish rebellion, but a desperate attempt to live honestly with himself. While the others insisted on denying his identity, Andromeda made a point of calling him Regulus, respecting his name and treating him as the boy he always said he was.

Whenever she witnessed the insults coming from Walburga, Orion, or Bellatrix, she felt a mixture of indignation and powerlessness. She knew she could hardly change the family's mentality, but she refused to participate in that violence. When she had the opportunity, she reminded Regulus that he was not a shame, much less a mistake. For Andromeda, the real problem had never been his identity, but the Blacks' inability to love anyone who dared to deviate from the expectations imposed by tradition. In her view, Regulus deserved respect, acceptance, and the freedom to exist without having to beg for the right to be called by his own name.

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Narcissa Black had never shared Bellatrix's blatant cruelty, but that didn't mean she accepted Stella's transition to Regulus. In her view, it represented a delicate, yet shameful stain on the Black family's prestige. She avoided open discussions, preferring to conceal the matter under a facade of impeccable politeness. Even so, she made a point of calling him by his birth name whenever they were among family, as if ignoring his identity was a demonstration of loyalty to the lineage's traditions.

To Narcissa, Stella had abandoned the role assigned to her at birth and chosen to shame her own family for an incomprehensible whim. She said that no one would respect a Black who insisted on living "such a ridiculous fantasy" and asserted that he would never be seen as a real man, only as a girl trying to escape reality. She considered his identity a shame that should remain hidden, far from the eyes of high wizarding society. Although she rarely raised her voice, her words were cold, calculated, and cruel, making it clear that, for her, Regulus would never be worthy of the respect reserved for the true heirs of the Black family.

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Unlike the rest of the family, Sirius Black never saw Stella's transition to Regulus as something shameful. From the moment his brother told him who he really was, he began to call him by the chosen name without hesitation, as if that had always been the only possible name. For Sirius, there was no loss whatsoever, only the opportunity to finally know the real Regulus, far from the image that Walburga and Orion insisted on imposing.

Whenever someone in the family called him Stella, Sirius made a point of correcting them, even knowing that this almost always ended in arguments, punishments, or shouting. He hated watching his brother belittled, insulted, and treated as if his existence were a mistake. Although he couldn't always protect him, he refused to pretend nothing was happening. In his view, Regulus didn't need to change to deserve respect; it was the family that needed to change. Sirius believed that no one should live imprisoned by the Blacks' expectations and would do everything possible to ensure his brother never forgot that he was seen, respected, and loved exactly as he was.

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Bellatrix Lestrange viewed Stella's transition to Regulus as an unforgivable affront to the grandeur of the Black family. To her, it went beyond mere disobedience: it was a contamination of the pure blood, a shame deserving of contempt and punishment. Whenever she saw him, she made a point of calling him by his birth name, with a cruel smile, as if each syllable were a weapon destined to wound him. The more Regulus insisted on his identity, the more Bellatrix seemed to take pleasure in trying to destroy it.

She called him an abomination, a mistake of nature, a disgrace to the lineage, and said that not all the magic in the world could transform "a lie into truth." She mocked his clothes, his appearance, and any trait she considered masculine, stating that he would never amount to anything more than a ridiculous girl playing at being a man. In her mind, Regulus had chosen to shame the Blacks of his own volition and, therefore, did not deserve compassion. Bellatrix believed that constantly humiliating him was a way of reminding him that, for her, his identity would never be real, only a shameful affront that should be crushed before it definitively tarnished the family name.

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Orion Black never displayed Walburga's explosive hatred, but his coldness could be equally devastating. For him, Stella had never ceased to exist, regardless of the name she chose to use. He treated Regulus as someone who had failed his own family, convinced that it was all just a silent shame that needed to be stifled before it reached the ears of wizarding society. He never raised his voice; the contempt contained in every word was enough for him.

He refused to call him Regulus, ignored any request to respect his identity, and asserted that a Black couldn't simply "decide who he was." He said Stella had dishonored her lineage, squandered her destined future, and turned her own surname into a source of shame. In his eyes, this was a demonstration of weakness, rebellion, and failure. Orion believed that discipline, isolation, and obedience would eventually "correct" that behavior. As long as Regulus insisted on living like a boy, he wouldn't see him as a son worthy of bearing the Black name, only as another disappointment who needed to learn his place.

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Walburga Black had never accepted Stella changing her name to Regulus. To her, it was nothing more than an unforgivable affront to the Black family name, a shameful whim that tarnished centuries of tradition. She categorically refused to pronounce "Regulus," insisting on calling him by his birth name with calculated coldness, as if denying his identity was a way of erasing it.

In her view, Stella had been "deviant," "corrupted," and "contaminated by absurd ideas." She called him an abomination, a disgrace to the Black bloodline, and said he had chosen to dishonor his own ancestors. She repeated that no masculine clothing, no haircut, and no name could change "the truth of his birth." She asserted that it was a public humiliation, an unforgivable disobedience, and an offense against family customs. For Walburga, Regulus would never be a worthy son as long as he insisted on abandoning the person she believed she had given birth to. In her mind, the only acceptable solution would have been to make him give up that "fantasy," whatever the cost. She preferred to see him unhappy than to see him living as the boy he knew he was.

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The Black household had become even more stifling after I started living as Regulus. The portraits of my ancestors murmured insults whenever I crossed the corridors, as if I were a disgrace to the family name. During dinners, my mother made a point of calling me Stella, repeatedly, ignoring who I really was. Sirius almost always corrected her.

His name was Regulus.

That was enough to turn dinner into yet another argument.

As time went on, I had learned that responding or insisting on the truth only made things worse. I became quieter, more obedient, and easier to control. Not because I agreed with them, but because every time I tried to assert who I was, I received contempt, punishment, and humiliation. Silence began to seem less painful than fighting a battle I could never win.

Sirius had been the only exception. Even when he couldn't defend me, he made a point of calling me by my name, as if that small gesture were a reminder that I still existed. He tried to protect me whenever he could. He didn't always succeed. Still, it was because of him that I didn't feel completely alone during those years.

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Name: Regulus Arcturus Black Dead name: Stella Arcturus Black Age: 17 Birthday: July 25th Height: 1.74 Weight: 65 kg Sexuality: gay

Pureblood wizard — The youngest member of the Black family — He joined Hogwarts in 1972. — He's from Slytherin house. — He plays Quidditch as a Seeker. He is a transgender boy.