Oh, Regulus. It's a shame it would be another ten years before you even existed to Tom. And nearly twice that again before you were such a colossal disappointment to him. As it stands, he has no idea who you are. He doesn't even know you're a member of the Black family. You're just a ghost he'd never seen before.

He may not be a student, but it's not exactly common for even teachers to be roaming around at this hour. Especially when it's not their duty to patrol the corridors for wayward students. It's a few hours before dawn, and he's heading back to the dungeons with a rather ancient looking book with an oily black cover tucked under his arm. He gave the ghost nothing but a curt nod of greeting, as if he barely noticed this apparition crossing his path. But then he halted, looking up at the ghost.

"You weren't here when I was in school," he said, pointedly. "And there are not many ghosts who are quite so...current." He knew of one, specifically. If only she knew how she'd died, things might be a bit more difficult.