Regulus: The Untold Story

My name is Regulus Christopher Black.

This is the story of my life.

The true story.

My mother is Diana DeAngelis-Black. My father is not Kevin Antonio Black.

That is the family's best kept secret.

My mother had an affair with a Malfoy (I will not reveal the bastard's name), a few months before her marriage to Kevin Black. It's extremely complicated, however, Kevin, signed my birth certificate.

That was the end of the fairytale.

Fearing anger from the Malfoys, my mother sent me to a convent in France. I lived there for about fourteen years, when I fled. I was heading for Germany, but I got on the wrong train and ended up in Russia. I speak no Russian, and didn't realize I was in Russia until I was about fifteen, which is pretty stupid, I know.

By this time, I was alone, hungry, poor and I spoke only English and French. It was freezing in Russia. My mother never discovered where I was, I got maybe one or two letters a year from her. The nuns were afraid to tell my family I was missing, my family is a rather powerful one, to say the least.

I became so invovled in the Russian nightlife. By sixteen, I was addicted to drugs and alcohol. It was so easy to get a bag of weed or some coke. Many of the Russian drug dealers took pity on the "frantsuzsky syn" (french son), so I was given leftovers from drug deals.

For a while, I lived on alcohol and cigarettes. I managed to live in a former bomb shelter. It wasn't very decorative, but it worked out well.

I had a Russian girlfriend for a while, Yelena, she was a beauty. I was in love at seventeen. She was too. However, I sent her to get me some opium one night and she didn't come back. She ran away with another man.

The hookers took pity on me. Those girls with the spirit of a saint and the life of a sinner. I am so in debt for their charity.

I am extremely religious, which I suppose is understandable, coming from a convent. I know adultery is a sin, but the women there were angels, not sinners. I was praying to God to help me survive when I arrived in Russia. He answered, and though He sent me down a path of sin, I know He understood of the circumstances.

When I turned 18, I enough of the Russian language to communicate flawlessly. Russian is a very difficult language, and I am proud to consider myself a linguist now. I was living in a room above a brothel in a town maybe seven hours from Moscow. It was partying all day and night, drinking and drugs all around, and enough beautiful women to make me feel I was in heaven.

I will never forget my days there.

Anastacia, Irina, Raisa, Svetlana, Yana, Zhanna, Zoya, my angels.

The seven Russian prostitutes who taught me everything I ever needed to learn.

They brought me to the top and led me to my downfall.

This is not a tale with a happy ending.

This is a tale laced with opium, alcohol, crime, and beautiful Russians.

A dangerous mixture of pleasure, I suppose.

If you're prepared, I will tell you the story.

My story, the untold version.