He sat in a compartment with a small group of his house mates and their friends, half listening to their conversation but feeling withdrawn from it all. The sound of the train running over the tracks was a comforting background noise, helping to ground him and control his scattered thoughts. He watched the scenery fly by the window; empty field after empty field entering his vision, turning into an endless blur of different shades of green.

This summer was the first that he would be spending alone, without his brother – the only sanctuary he had from the constant disapproving glares of his mother. Sirius had chosen that Potter boy over him – his own flesh and blood – preferring instead to spend his time with Mudbloods and Blood Traitors.

The noise of the Trolley Witch passing by brought him abruptly out of his musings, his breath catching in his throat slightly as she called out loudly over the quiet murmurings of his acquaintances.

"Anything sweet from the trolley, dears?" She was an elderly witch, slightly hunchback, with a bright dimpled smile that she directed at the group of solemn looking Slytherins without appearing to notice their annoyance at the interruption.

She was quickly dismissed by a somewhat irritable seventh year girl, who immediately turned back to the boy sitting next to her to resume their rather heated conversation. Regulus could remember a similar conversation held on this same train back in his first year at Hogwarts.

"He will be our saviour; he will rid the world of all Mudblood filth." Bellatrix was almost shouting, seemingly uncaring as to who could overhear their conversation.

"I'm not disagreeing with you, Black. I just think that others have come before him and others will come after who have the same idea. There's no guarantee that this man – what did you call him? Vallemort? – will succeed where so many before have failed."

"He has done so much work already; he has removed countless pests from our society, and works tirelessly so that one day he may rid them all. Every day there are new recruits to his cause – this is something that will last; this is something that will persevere."

It was a conversation that he couldn't recall consciously memorising but could nevertheless recount now, nearly five years later.

It was a conversation that would define the path that he was going to take, leading him to make decisions that would either lead to his salvation or demise.