I've been doing muggle work for the past week. Tending the bar at a small muggle pub. I should be ashamed, but I'm not. I don't really care at all. The man who owns it is old and can't handle the work himself anymore. He said if I work out he'll allow me to live in the room above the bar, but the rent alone would take up nearly all my wages. He won't cut me anymore of a break, either, the geezer. 

So maybe I'll stay at Hogwarts for a bit longer, if it's allowed. Save some money. That sort of thing. Normal things.

I was given this journal, but I have to say I haven't been entirely sure what to write in it. I suppose I'll start with the obvious; my name is Regulus Black.

Perhaps that was too obvious, or maybe not. I suppose it depends on who reads it. If I'm to be honest, I have to say I've never been less sure of things in the entirety of my life. Everything is a bit surreal. I've been told, though, that I need to find a job so that I may support myself. I suppose I'll go start on that now. Maybe find a library and do some research.