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"Who are they, Mama?"
"Those are the Prewetts, dear, they're blood-traitors. You don't want to associate with them."
Regulus nodded his raven-haired head, slicked back and bound compared to his brother's loose and curly mop. His hand was firmly in the grip of Walburga Black as she saw her eldest off to Hogwarts. His silver eyes darted constantly to the varying exchanges of parents and their children as droves of students boarded the Hogwarts express.
One girl hung back from the others against a brick wall very close to the entrance from King's Cross. He liked how her long dark hair hung pin-straight and was cropped neatly at her shoulders. The deep brown color made the alabaster of her skin even more pronounced. Her arms were crossed in a manner that could be petulance or devil-may-care. She was trying too hard, he noticed. Regulus had never seen her before either and was doing his best to keep up appearances for when he went to school the next year.
Following the dark girl's gaze, he saw the fiery red hair of a girl who was chatting animatedly with a couple he presumed were her parents. She had robes on. The other girl did not.
A soft tug on her hand alerted Walburga to her son. "Mama, who does she belong to?"
Walburga's eyes narrowed as she looked towards the wall her youngest son had discreetly indicated. "The dark haired one in the cheap shoes and horrid frock? Must belong to a Mudblood, darling, or she'd be wearing robes or getting on the Express."
Regulus frowned and turned to look at the girl again, but she had disappeared among the crowd of students and parents filling the platform. He wondered, after all of his mum's stories and warnings, how a Muggle or Mudblood could be so pretty?