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Chapter Text

When Sirius left for Hogwarts last year, Regulus wasn’t allowed to accompany him and Kreacher to King’s Cross station. Sirius later told him all about it, of course, but now that he’s standing on platform 9¾ and sees the scarlet steam engine for the first time with his own eyes, Regulus is amazed nevertheless.

“Move along now, don’t stare.” The bony fingers of his mother claw into his shoulder, fingernails sharp like talons. Her voice is a hiss and he immediately obliges.

“Yes, Mother.”

Next to Regulus, Sirius is positively buzzing with excitement. He can feel it radiating off him in waves, knowing that Sirius looks forward to seeing his friends again and, most of all, to Regulus finally meeting them as well.

Sirius had raved a lot about them, in whispered conversations the brothers had under the covers after sneaking into each other’s rooms in the middle of the night. While Sirius was at school, their mother restricted all possible ways of communication between the two of them, monitoring Regulus’ post and the use of the floo network. Whenever Sirius was home for holidays, both he and Regulus were always closely watched by either her or Kreacher, so they had to find their own, clandestine way to talk. As a result, Regulus now very much wants to meet Sirius’ friends, but perhaps even more, he looks forward to being able to talk freely with his brother again.

The majority of students seem to be on the train already. Trust Walburga Black to wait until the last moment to arrive – to make a dramatic entrance as much as to avoid dealing with the “commoners” and “riff-raff”. It’s a miracle she’s here at all. Regulus suspects it’s to make sure he doesn’t fall into the same “unbecoming ways” as Sirius. He seems to be proven right when she firmly steers Regulus directly towards his cousin Narcissa, who’s going back to Hogwarts for her final year.

“Narcissa, thank you for your patience. One knows how these things are,” his mother greets her with a curt nod.

“Not at all,” Narcissa answers with a polite smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Of course I know, Aunt Walburga. We all prefer to avoid… mingling.”

In the brief pause before the last word, she wrinkles her nose, shooting a disdainful look at the last few people on the platform. Most of them seem to be first years like Regulus, who, unlike him, are clinging to their parents in tearful goodbyes. One small group looks like Muggles, judging by their clothes and the awed glances they cast all around.

“Stick to her,” his mother’s sharp, low voice grumbles into his ear, before she straightens up, nodding towards Narcissa and pushing her hand against Regulus’ shoulder blade.

“Yes, Mother,” he says again as he takes the hint and moves to his cousin’s side, the handle of his trunk in one hand, the cage with his owl in the other. “Hello, Narcissa.” Once they’re on the train, she’ll be “Cissy” again, but he knows his mother disapproves of nicknames. According to her, they exhibit a lack of decorum.

“Hello, Regulus,” Narcissa smiles at him, and this time it does reach her eyes. She’s always been his favourite cousin. Apart from Andromeda, that is, but she’s not considered a part of the family anymore, so Regulus isn’t sure if she still counts.

“Well, let’s board the train. Goodbye, Aunt Walburga, it was a pleasure to see you. Please do give my regards to Uncle Orion.”

“I shall.” Another curt nod from his mother, then she addresses her sons one last time, “Sirius, do conduct yourself appropriately, presuming you recall how. Regulus, you know what is expected of you.” Her icy tone sends a shiver down Regulus’ spine, but luckily, his mother turns around and leaves without waiting for an answer. And without looking back.

Narcissa watches her for a brief moment, then takes a deep breath and shakes her head the tiniest bit as if to clear it. “Go on then,” she ushers Sirius and Regulus towards the Hogwarts Express. “I’ll take care of this,” she adds and, with an elegant wave of her wand, hovers both their trunks into the train after them.

“This way!” Sirius calls out as he grabs Regulus’ hand to pull him along with determination. “I’ve already spotted James and Pete through the window!”

Even as they’re still running down the corridor between the train’s compartments, the Hogwarts Express starts to move, leaving platform 9¾ behind until the Christmas holidays. Regulus feels a bit like being caught in a whirlwind: Through the compartment windows, he can see the scenery becoming blurrier the faster the train goes, the view making him feel a little disoriented, since he and Sirius are running against the direction of travel. He can feel the train rattling over the tracks underneath them, there are so many people, but through it all, Narcissa keeps close, and Sirius’ warm, comforting hand stays around his, a steady reminder that Regulus is not alone, that his brother is right there with him, and that he’s off to an adventure he’s been looking forward to for years – off to Hogwarts.

“Here we are!” Sirius pulls open a compartment door with a flourish, “Alright, lads, meet my brother!” With a broad grin, he pats Regulus’ shoulder and then flings his arms around the neck of a boy who jumped up the moment Sirius entered.

“Sirius!” the boy shouts cheerfully, pulling him into a tight embrace.

Regulus has seen him before, in a two-way mirror, the boy had given Sirius after their first Christmas holidays last year. Sirius brought it back home with him during Easter break and that’s when Regulus was briefly introduced to James Potter. If you can call a quick “Hello” and a small wave an introduction. Either way, James looks different in real life than he did in the tiny mirror – less distorted and more… real. More present. For some reason, Regulus imagined him smaller, about the same size as Sirius. It’s not like James is outrageously tall, but he does have three or four inches on Sirius and probably five on Regulus. However, his black hair is easily recognisable. It looks just as messy as it did in the mirror.

“I’ll leave this here, shall I?” Narcissa says softly as she hovers the trunks onto the luggage rack while Sirius and James still engage in something akin to a weird arm-in-arm dance of reunion.

“Oh, yes! Thank you,” Regulus says, startled out of his reverie and grateful to still have his cousin by his side, since his brother is too distracted to pay him any mind right now.

However, as soon as the trunks are properly stored, Narcissa makes to leave. “Have a good train ride, Regulus. I’ll see you at school.” Briefly, she looks like she wants to say something else. She doesn’t, though, giving Regulus’ shoulder a gentle squeeze instead and then she walks off, likely to join her friends in their compartment.

“Thank you, Cissy!” Sirius calls after her, which she acknowledges with a wave over her shoulder. “Come, Reggie, don’t stand there, meet my friends! This is James!” Sirius says next, pushing James right in front of Regulus with a wide grin.

“Hi Regulus, it’s great to finally meet you in person.” A blinding smile on his face, James extends a hand.

Regulus feels his breath catch in his throat as his gaze wanders from the hand in front of him to find James’ eyes, twinkling behind his round glasses. This is James Potter. The boy Sirius wouldn’t stop talking about while at home during the holidays. The person his brother spent every waking moment with throughout his first year of school. Regulus’ substitute.

No.

Regulus works hard to scratch that last thought from his mind. Sirius had assured him over and over again that nobody could ever replace his brother. He’d been far away from the only place he’d ever called home, from Regulus and from everything he knew. Regulus was and is happy for Sirius to have found friends. People he likes and who like him back.

“Hello. It’s a pleasure to meet you too, James.”

Tentatively, Regulus takes the hand held out to him. The moment they touch, a kind of buzz runs from his fingers into his arm and spreads through his whole body. He figures it must be his nerves, because he wants to make a good impression on the person who means so much to Sirius. It’s probably James’ warmth, too. His hand is warm, as is the smile still on his lips, and his eyes. His eyes are warm and kind. They’re hazel. A deep, warm hazel tone.

James gives Regulus’ hand a slight squeeze the moment Sirius bangs the compartment door shut, both pulling Regulus effectively back to his surroundings. It’s a weird sensation. A bit as if time just slowed down for a moment and then sped up again.

“No need to be so formal, Reg,” Sirius grins, “Meet my other friends, that’s Remus!” He points at the boy sitting opposite where James and Sirius now take their seats.

“Hello, Regulus, nice to meet you,” he says with a nod.

His hair is a light brown, bordering on dark blond, depending on how he turns his head in the light. It’s a little shaggy as well but by no means as messy as James’ hair. Regulus is surprised, not bothered or anything, but surprised nonetheless, that Remus has several small scars on his face. He doesn’t want to stare, though, so he quickly casts his eyes around for something else to look at. Unfortunately, that’s not very helpful, because his gaze lands on Remus’ worn-out clothes, and Regulus doesn’t want to stare at those either.

He’s glad when Sirius continues, and at the same time ends, his round of introductions. “And here, we have Peter, aka Petey-boy,” he says, pointing at the last remaining boy in the compartment.

“Please don’t call me Petey-boy,” Peter sighs in a slightly distressed voice, greeting Regulus with a smile. Even as he’s sitting, Regulus can make out that he’s relatively small, smaller than Sirius at least. He’s got watery eyes and a bit of a pointed face, a stark contrast to Sirius with his defined cheekbones and bright, grey-blue eyes. In his lap, a rat is curled up.

“This is Pumpkin,” he says, following Regulus’ line of sight to the animal. “Because I like Pumpkin Pasties,” Peter smiles shyly. Then his gaze wanders to the cage still in Regulus’ hand. “You’ve got an owl, though, that’s so cool!”

“Ah, yes, that’s Izar,” Regulus confirms with a fond look at the currently sleeping bird. Sirius’ owl was confiscated by their parents the moment he got Sorted into Gryffindor, so Regulus feels a little guilty about rubbing in the fact that he’s still got Izar. But he’s already told Sirius that he can borrow the owl whenever he wants to send a letter. Apart from Andromeda or maybe Uncle Alphard, he won’t have many correspondents anyway.

“Brilliant! Mine’s called Snidget,” James says with a grin, pointing at a covered cage on the rack above him.

“You need help with this?” Remus asks, gesturing at the cage in Regulus’ hand as he stands up. Regulus already gathered that he’s lean and rather tall, but now that he’s standing next to him, he realises just how tall Remus is. If Regulus didn’t know better, he’d peg him for a third-year student at the very least. He’s almost a little lanky and definitely even taller than James. This comes in handy now, as Remus has no issue gently setting Izar’s cage down beside James’ owl.

“Thank you,” Regulus says, finally sitting down next to Sirius.

“No problem,” Remus smiles as he flops back down beside Peter again.

“How were everyone’s summer hols?” Sirius asks excitedly and the friends start talking animatedly amongst each other.

Regulus assumes that Sirius deliberately wants to head off questions about him, whether he’s excited to go to Hogwarts, what he expects and the like, and he’s grateful for it. Unlike his brother, Regulus doesn't like jumping straight into the deep end. Instead, he prefers to observe and assess first, and there’s a lot of both to be done already.

While Regulus half-listens to the holiday recounts, he can’t help but cast curious glances at Sirius’ friends. He knows that Remus is a half-blood, which he finds truly fascinating. When Sirius had mentioned that Remus’ mother is a Muggle, Regulus was flabbergasted. He’s never met a half-blood before but he’s always wondered what that would be like. Sirius told him that Remus reads a lot and likes to play chess with Peter. Other than that, Regulus wasn’t sure what to expect, but watching him now, he finds that Remus generally doesn’t come across that different from the others. Apart maybe from his somewhat old clothes, but Regulus knows that these aren’t necessarily connected to his blood status. He’s aware that there are pure-blood families with little money, too.

Peter, on the other hand, is a Pettigrew, which means that he's a pure-blood, but his family has an incriminating reputation for producing Squibs. Regulus has never met a Squib either. He knows from Sirius that Peter is a proper wizard; still, he probably knows a Squib, possibly even a few, and Regulus finds that fascinating as well.

In comparison to a half-blood and a wizard related to Squibs, James is probably the most boring of Sirius’ friends. While not held in high esteem in the Black household, the Potters are an old-established, wealthy pure-blood family. If it weren’t for their close ties to Albus Dumbledore and other progressive leaders, Regulus would’ve probably already met them at one of the Blacks’ dinner parties.

Nevertheless, James holds his own intrigue for Regulus. For one thing, he thinks it’s interesting that the Potters, despite their ancestry, lead such a different life from his own family. For another, James has somehow managed to completely and utterly charm Sirius, and even though Regulus appreciates him being there for his brother, he can’t help but wonder why exactly Sirius is so taken with the boy.

As he watches them interact, Regulus thinks he might be getting an idea why they get along so well: James has a very lively and outgoing personality, he’s full of laughter, humour and mischief. He seems to have a bit of a reckless streak, paired with a self-confidence that borders on arrogance. In short, James has a lot in common with Sirius and he brings out those parts of him that he’s always had to suppress at home, like his boisterous laugh and his penchant for jokes and fun. James is everything Regulus is not. Well, maybe that’s not entirely true, because Regulus has occasionally been told that he comes off as arrogant too. But he’s certainly neither as sociable nor as self-confident and most definitely not as funny as James.

“I can’t wait to pull that prank on Snivellus this year,” James says, catching Regulus’ attention. Sirius has told him quite a bit about his and his friends’ declared arch enemy.

“Yeah, it’ll go fantastic with those greasy curtains he calls his hair!” Sirius agrees, flicking his own, shiny black mane haughtily. Its increasing length is a recurring source of conflict with their mother, but so far, Sirius has managed to keep it growing, arguing that Narcissa’s suitor Lucius wears his hair long as well.

“You never know, Sirius, maybe he’s discovered shampoo by now,” James grins.

Sirius barks a laugh in response. “Snape? Shampoo? Never!”

“What if he finds out about the prank, though?” Peter asks in a worried tone, kneading his hands right above Pumpkin’s head. The rat merely keeps dozing in his lap.

“Nah, he won’t,” Sirius answers confidently, “Remus will help us make sure we won’t get caught, won’t you, Rem?”

Remus rolls his eyes at him. “Don’t call me that. But yes, of course.”

“See? It’s all good, Pete, don’t fret,” James tells him. “He’s too stupid to find out, don’t forget that he’s a Slytherin!”

This last sentence makes Regulus shift uneasily in his seat. What if he gets Sorted into Slytherin too? What if he doesn’t?

James seems to clock his discomfort. “What’s up? Do you fear you’ll end up with the snakes?” He laughs, then reaches over Sirius to pat Regulus’ shoulder, “Don’t worry, you seem alright, and you’re Sirius’ brother! He broke the family curse last year and got Sorted into the right house!” He turns towards his best friend, “Didn’t you?”

“Hell yeah, I did!” Sirius replies with a smug grin.

That’s certainly one way to put it. When the news about Sirius being Sorted into Gryffindor reached his parents, their mother had been livid. Regulus was upstairs in his room, reading a book, but he could still hear crystal clear what was being shouted. Nasty things about what a disgrace Sirius was to the name of Black, that he was an endless source of disappointment and that this outrageous embarrassment was the straw that broke the thestral’s back. Regulus was trembling all over when he heard her footsteps coming up the stairs and nearing his room.

His mother told him in no uncertain terms that he was to be Sorted into Slytherin or woe betide him. She also made him stand next to her when she sent Sirius a Howler, repeating the horrible things Regulus had already overheard, and adding a few more. Sirius probably hasn’t told his fun new friends this, but when he came home for the Christmas holidays, she was still furious enough to use the Cruciatus Curse on him as a punishment. Regulus had to stand there and witness it. He wasn’t even allowed to close his eyes.

You know what is expected of you.

He’s not afraid of the physical punishment. He’s not keen on it, of course, and would prefer to avoid it. What worries Regulus most, though, is that if he gets Sorted into Gryffindor too, his parents will put all the blame on Sirius again, for misguiding him or something, and maybe even split them up. A couple of days after Sirius’ Sorting, Regulus had accidentally listened in on his parents discussing sending him to Durmstrang instead of Hogwarts, far away from Sirius’ bad influence. From that moment on, Regulus always made sure to be on his very best behaviour and incessantly convince them how very much in line with their views and values he is.

He even decorated his room in Slytherin colours and banners, something Sirius derisively laughed at when he came home for the holidays. That stung, and Regulus tried to explain, but he didn’t want to tell Sirius too many details about what had happened in his absence, fearing that he might flare up and would receive even worse punishments than before. Luckily, Sirius didn’t take his brother’s choice of interior design too seriously anyway, thinking it had been their mother’s doing, but Regulus still got into the habit of always closing his bedroom door. He even hung a sign above the threshold of his room, reading “Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black”. Sirius ignored it most of the time. Regulus was fine with that most of the time.

“You’ll be trying out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team this year, won’t you?” Sirius asks James.

While Regulus was lost in his thoughts, the conversation has evidently moved on.

“Sure I’ll be trying out,” James says in an amused voice, “But let’s face it, mate, my tryout will just be a formality. I’m an excellent player, they’d be stupid not to take me on the team.”

Involuntarily, Regulus’ eyebrows fly up at this blunt statement. “What position do you play?” he inquires, curious against his will.

“Well, I’m good at Quidditch in general, but I’m a fantastic Chaser and the team needs a new one, so I’ll play that position,” James answers, leaning back in his seat and looking very convinced of himself.

Regulus isn’t sure what makes him say it, but for some reason, he feels like prodding James a bit and getting him off his high hippogriff, “Ah well, there are three Chasers on a team, so I reckon it’s easier to make the cut for that position than, say, to get chosen as a Seeker.” He shrugs and fights to hide a smile at James’ expression of surprise and incredulity.

Opposite Regulus, Remus snorts a laugh and gives him an appreciative smirk while Peter’s gaze darts back and forth between him and James.

“What’s that, young Black? Are you questioning my skills?” James asks in feigned indignance. “Sirius obviously didn’t exaggerate. You’re not the least bit inferior to your brother when it comes to cheek and audacity.”

He grins while Sirius bursts out laughing once more. Regulus merely shrugs, allowing the corner of his mouth to twitch upwards the tiniest bit.

“So you favour playing Seeker, then?” James asks him, the twinkle from earlier back in his eyes.

“I do,” Regulus states simply, focussing on his breathing. This whole exchange is making him a little nervous. It’s not really like him to go out on a limb like this.

“Brilliant! I look forward to playing with you as a Seeker next year, then. Just make sure you don’t catch the Snitch too early, let me score a few goals for our team first, will you?” James winks.

Regulus’ stomach drops. James seems convinced that Regulus will be Sorted into Gryffindor and play alongside him. It would surely be fun, but he’s supposed to become a Slytherin. Isn’t he?

“Do you also support the Montrose Magpies?” Peter inquires good-naturedly, “I know that Sirius does, but he’s told us that your family has always been more connected to the Ballycastle Bats?”

“Oh, no. I mean, yes, you're right about the Bats, but I support the Magpies,” Regulus answers, glad to be distracted from his re-emerging concerns. “They’re the best team and the most inspiring, in my opinion. Although I must say that I’m also inclined to Pride of Portree. I’ve always liked the Isle of Skye.”

“I know what you mean,” Peter nods wisely. “The Magpies are great, but I’ve always been more of a Chudley Cannons bloke myself, if I’m honest. My late grandpa was a huge fan, I reckon I got it from him.” He smiles, almost a little apologetically.

Regulus is unsure what he thinks of Peter. He’s certainly nice, and he’s pleasant in the sense that he’s not as loud and waggish as Sirius and James, but from what Sirius has told him, Peter is neither the smartest one of them nor a leader. And while Regulus doesn’t think that either makes Peter a bad person, it’s been drilled into him from an early age that being born a Black means being born a leader. And leaders don’t get friendly with followers, do they?

“How about you, Remus? Who do you support?” Regulus asks him, mostly to distract himself from his own confusing thoughts.

“Oh, I’m not a huge Quidditch fan. I don’t like flying much in general. I support Gryffindor’s team, of course, but other than that…” he trails off with a shrug. “I couldn’t care less who wins the league, to be honest.”

“I see. That’s… refreshing,” Regulus answers politely, yet completely baffled.

Sirius snorts a laugh as James leans over him to address Regulus, “Just for the record, I support the Magpies as well.”

“I figured,” Regulus answers, keeping his face deliberately neutral. Again, a smile wants to fight its way out at James’ perplexed expression, but he successfully pushes it down. It’s actually fun to poke James a little, and he’s sporting about it.

Internally, Regulus is still weighing his opinion of James. He’s clearly a bit conceited, and to a certain extent, Regulus connects more with Remus, who is quieter and likes chess and books. Then again, Sirius has a pompous side too, and there’s something captivating in the way James approaches people and perceives the world. Regulus finds it compelling. And he wants to try. For Sirius’ sake, he wants to try and be James’ friend.

As the train ride continues, several people come by and say hello to Sirius and his friends, but it’s impossible for Regulus to remember all their names. Then a witch with a trolley stops at their compartment, offering them sweets to buy. They each get their favourites: Liquorice Wands for Regulus, Cauldron Cakes for Sirius, Pumpkin Pasties for Peter, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum for James and Chocolate Frogs for Remus, and they share everything among each other. James also buys a huge box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans “for fun” and they have a real blast with those.

“Ugh, I swear that one was beetle-flavoured!” Sirius insists after bravely trying a black Every Flavour Bean.

“Don’t talk rubbish! What would a beetle even taste like?” James replies with a disbelieving face.

Regulus, who’s been carefully nibbling on a dark brown bean, confirming that it’s indeed chocolate-flavoured, grins. Just then, the compartment door opens and a girl appears.

“Hello, excuse me, is Regulus Black in this compartment?”

Eyebrows raised, Regulus looks at her. She’s probably a year or two older than him and dressed in Hogwarts robes already, the Hufflepuff emblem sticking out prominently. “I’m Regulus Black.”

“Oh, good! It’s just that Professor Slughorn asked me to give you this.” She quickly hands him a scroll of parchment tied with violet ribbon. “And these are for you,” she adds, holding out two more rolls to James and Sirius. “That’s all. Bye, have a nice day!” the girl then says hurriedly and leaves.

“What is this?” Regulus asks confused, as he unrolls the parchment and reads:

Dear Mr. Regulus Black,
I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C.
Sincerely,
Professor H.E.F. Slughorn

“Ah, just ignore it! It’s an invitation to the Slug Club. You know, those little get-togethers Slughorn holds? I’ve told you about them. They’re boring! Just a bunch of social climbers and opportunists,” Sirius explains.

“Yeah, right! We have way more fun here!” James grins, rattling the box of Every Flavour Beans in front of Regulus’ nose.

He gives in with a smile and takes a bean that turns out to be honey-flavoured.

Whilst amusing themselves with the Every Flavour Beans, talking more about Quidditch, a conversation between Regulus and Remus about books they’ve read, and at some point, all of them changing into their Hogwarts robes, time flies by, and the train quickly arrives at Hogsmeade station. The slight unease about his Sorting never leaves Regulus completely, but Sirius’ friends are a fantastic distraction, and he soon relaxes more and more into the situation, with these new people he just met.

Chapter Text

As one would expect, the hustle and bustle of the whole student body at Hogsmeade station is far more intense than the few scattered people back at King’s Cross were. Students run into each other, some chasing after their animals, cats are meowing and a general hubbub of voices fills the air.

Regulus gets off the train with somewhat mixed feelings. He’s excited to have arrived and to start his first year at Hogwarts, but, on the other hand, he enjoyed the train ride more than he had expected, and a sinking feeling in his stomach tells him that his nerves regarding his Sorting are starting to come back.

“Have fun on the boat ride, the castle looks fantastic from the water,” Sirius tells him while he pulls him into a hug on the platform. “I’ll see you at the feast.”

As Regulus returns the hug, Sirius’ mouth ends up so close to his ear that he can hear his brother’s next words crystal clear, even though Sirius says them softly enough that nobody else will catch them.

“Don’t worry, Reg, you’ll get into Gryffindor. And even if you don’t, I’ll only be a few corridors and staircases away.”

Regulus hugs him even tighter after this, ignoring the somewhat trembling quality of his brother’s voice. He can’t deal with Sirius’ nervousness right now, for he’s enough of an anxious wreck himself.

As they part ways, Regulus waves goodbye to Remus, James and Peter as well, feeling quite alone after the warmth and laughter they all shared on the train. He even left Izar behind in the compartment, knowing that house-elves will bring the owls directly to the castle with everyone’s luggage. For a moment, he watches Sirius and his friends walk down the path to the thestral-drawn carriages. Regulus can’t see the animals, but he knows they're what the school uses for this transport, and he briefly ponders whether he’d rather be able to see them or not.

Ultimately, he falls in line with the other first-years who are being gathered by a giant-looking man. Due to his enormous size and the fact that most of his face is hidden behind a wild black mane and a huge beard, he looks slightly intimidating. But he’s got friendly eyes and his voice is kind as well.

“First-years over here! First-years!” he booms, his tone welcoming despite the volume. He looks at all of them with a smile that tugs his beard upwards in a funny way. “Everyone there? Perfect. I’m Rubeus Hagrid, Assistant Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts, and I’ll be taking you across the lake tonight.”

He gestures widely towards the boats that are already waiting on the fortunately calm lake. Regulus isn’t the biggest fan of large bodies of water, but peaceful and still like this, it doesn’t look too bad. As he moves towards the boats, passing by the teacher, Regulus spots a gleam of amusement in Mr Hagrid’s eyes.

“You must be Sirius’ brother! I’ve gotta say, he and his friends keep me on my toes!” Mr Hagrid winks at him and Regulus gives him a small smile in return.

He gets into one of the boats and sits down next to a blond boy who introduces himself as Thomas Abbott. Two more new students join them and then the boat sets off with the others, gliding smoothly over the water, towards the impressive castle. Hogwarts looks far too magnificent for a school, but Regulus always liked Scotland’s beautiful old architecture, so he simply marvels at the breathtaking sight until they arrive at their destination far quicker than he would’ve liked.

Once they’ve reached the castle, the first-year students are led into a small room where Mr Hagrid tells them to wait for the deputy headmistress.

“Professor McGonagall will be right with you. See you at the Sorting!” he says before he leaves, closing the door behind him.

The room has two doors, the one through which they just entered and another one that Regulus presumes will lead to the Sorting Ceremony. Most of the students cast around nervous glances at their surroundings, and a few, Regulus feels, even directed at him. He doesn’t have much time to think about this, however. No sooner has Mr Hagrid left them, a little man with wicked dark eyes and a wide mouth appears above them in mid-air with a loud pop.

“Aaah, ickle first-years I see!” the man grins, his mouth impossibly widening even further. He zooms down a little, trying to grab a strand of hair from a blonde girl, who shrieks in alarm.

Instinctively, Regulus moves back a few inches. Sirius has told him all about Peeves the poltergeist and his unpleasant, sometimes downright nasty, ways. There’s not exactly anywhere for Regulus to disappear to, but he might at least manage to get himself out of the troublesome spirit’s reach. Unfortunately, his albeit tiny movement attracts Peeve’s attention.

“What’s this, what’s this, little firstie? Are you trying to hide from old Peevsie?” he cackles and does a somersault in the air, blowing a raspberry as he spins.

Regulus swallows dryly, unsure what to do. He can feel his new Willow and Dragon Heartstring wand in its pocket, pressing against his side through the fabric of his robes. The few bits of beginner’s magic he’s tried with it at home went exceptionally well, but he doesn’t think he knows enough to take on a vicious poltergeist.

“Peeves! That’s enough! Stop terrorising our new students!” A middle-aged woman, likely Professor McGonagall, enters the room, eyeing the poltergeist sternly.

Disrespectful as he is, Peeves merely blows another raspberry. He does zoom away after that, but it’s not without sticking out his tongue at the still confused and partly anxious first-years.

“Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I see you’ve met our poltergeist. At least that means things are not going to get much worse from hereon.” The woman’s expression stays severe at first, but when several students give nervous little chuckles at her remark, Regulus thinks he sees the corner of her mouth twitching ever so slightly.

“My name is Professor McGonagall and I’m the deputy headmistress,” she continues. “Here, you will have the chance to learn everything you need to become a fully qualified, competent witch or wizard. Tonight, you’ll be Sorted into one of our four houses…”

Regulus zones out a little while Professor McGonagall explains about the different houses and what they mean. He knows all of this already. From Sirius, he also knows a lot about Professor McGonagall, mainly that while she appears strict with her serious face and tight bun, she’s actually a fair teacher with a surprisingly benevolent side.

However, this knowledge is not enough to calm Regulus’ nerves, which are now resurfacing. He feels his heart rate and his breathing quicken, so he tries for deliberate, deep inhales and exhales while his mind latches onto familiar routines. Standing up ramrod straight, he holds his chin high and pulls his shoulders back.

“Please follow me.” Professor McGonagall is evidently done with her words of welcome and turns to open the door through which she came in, the one Regulus already assumed will lead to the Sorting.

Stepping over the threshold, he ends up in the infamous Great Hall Sirius has told him so much about. In addition, Regulus has read his fair share about it in Hogwarts: A History – about the enchanted ceiling, the four house tables and the hourglasses with the emeralds, rubies, sapphires and diamonds representing the house points. Seeing it with his own eyes and full of students is something else, though. From where he and the other first-years come to stand in front of everyone else, Regulus looks around, trying to spot Sirius or at least Narcissa. Before he can make out either in the crowd, however, the Sorting Ceremony begins.

Professor McGonagall places the old and frayed-looking Sorting Hat on a stool and right on cue, its brim opens and the Hat begins to sing:

“Welcome new students, welcome indeed
I am the Sorting Hat and glad we now meet

My task is to sort you into one house of these four
So bear with me and listen for their qualities’ core

The brave and bold are Gryffindors, they’re chivalrous and just
In Hufflepuff the loyal dwell, here to earn your trust

A Ravenclaw’s wisdom can often be stunning
The Slytherin folks are ambitious and cunning

Be careful, though, for prejudice must not always hold true
While Hufflepuffs might be hardworking, they can enjoy the good life too

A Gryffindor might strike you as arrogant at first
But they’re the most warm-hearted friends when you’re at your worst

The Ravenclaws are smart alright, but still, better watch out
Their blend of genius and oddness, they can not do without

Now, Slytherins may often act for their own gain, it’s true
But they can also have a kind side that might just save you, too

That said, my task is still to sort you to your house
So come and sit, put me on your head and hear my verdict be announced”

The Hat’s brim closes again, and Professor McGonagall steps forward to call the new students to the stool, one after the other. “Abbott, Thomas!”, whom Regulus already met on the boat, is first and gets Sorted into Hufflepuff. After him, “Baker, Andrea!” is the first new Ravenclaw. It can’t be long now until it’s Regulus’ turn. A surname beginning with one of the first letters will do that for you, in an alphabetical sorting. And indeed, once the cheering and clapping from the Ravenclaw table have subsided—

“Black, Regulus!”

Maybe it’s his imagination, but he feels like some of the Slytherins regard him with a significantly higher interest than they did the first two students. He also senses whispers running through the Great Hall when his name is called. Palms a bit sweaty, he takes the Hat from the stool and sits down, catching a brief glimpse of Sirius, who watches him eagerly from the Gryffindor table. Then the Hat slips over Regulus’ eyes and blocks his view.

“Ah, another Black, I see!” A soft voice speaks right into his ears, startling Regulus slightly, even though he’s anticipated this. “Your brother was the first of your family I Sorted into Gryffindor, as I’m sure you know. Yes… Yes, you’d certainly do well there too. Plenty of bravery, loyalty as well, righteousness…”

Not Slytherin? Regulus thinks, torn between fear and giddy anticipation.

“Slytherin, you say?” the Hat continues, “Yes, you’re certainly ambitious enough to become a Slytherin. Smart and cunning, or should I say… extremely driven? Slytherin would be a good fit as well. And yet—”

You know what is expected of you.

As his mother’s words resonate in Regulus’ head, it suddenly becomes unmistakably obvious to him that there’s one single option only. He’d rather end up in merely a different house from Sirius than in a completely different school in another country.

Please put me in Slytherin! he thinks wildly, almost panicky, blood rushing in his ears.

“What’s that?” The Sorting Hat’s voice sounds surprised. “Well, young man, if you’re sure… be in… SLYTHERIN!”

The last word is shouted out loud and Regulus takes off the Hat to cheers erupting from the Slytherin table. Professor McGonagall takes the Sorting Hat from him to put it back on the stool and motions for Regulus to go and join his new housemates.

“Well done!” Narcissa smiles at him once he reaches the Slytherin table and sits down next to her. Regulus isn’t too sure he agrees. He feels a gnawing mixture of relief and regret, and when he looks across the Hall, finding Sirius’ disappointed expression, his heart aches. Well, he assumes there’s nothing to be done about it now, so he takes a deep, heavy breath and turns his attention back to the Sorting Ceremony.

“Hi! Can I sit here?” “Crouch junior, Bartemius!” is the next new Slytherin, motioning at the space beside Regulus on the bench.

“Sure, hello, I’m Regulus,” he answers, moving his hand in a be-my-guest gesture.

“Yeah, I figured. They called out your name, you know?” Bartemius grins impishly. “Anyway, I’m Barty,” he introduces himself as he sits down.

Regulus huffs out a small laugh at Barty’s remark. He can’t put a finger on it, but there’s something about this boy that he finds strangely endearing. Maybe it’s the way he acts slightly restrained, casting around curious glances and fidgeting with his hands. It makes Regulus feel like he’s not the only one who’s still a little on edge. It’s comforting. And somehow, Barty doesn’t look entirely happy with his new house either, but who knows? Maybe Regulus is simply projecting his own feelings onto him.

Either way, as the Sorting continues, more students arrive at their table. Dorcas Meadowes and Evan Rosier settle in opposite Regulus and Barty, Evan looking perfectly relaxed while Dorcas appears a little bewildered. Dominicus Wilkes is also among the Slytherin newcomers; he, Barty, and Evan will surely be Regulus’ dormmates. Regulus isn’t sure yet how he feels about sharing a bedroom with other people, but it’s not like he has a choice anyway, except to continue being homeschooled. Besides, Sirius has made it sound like fun, so Regulus allows himself to be guardedly eager about the experience.

When the Sorting Ceremony is over, Albus Dumbledore officially opens the feast and immediately, mountains of different foods appear on the table: Various types of roast meats, vegetables and assorted desserts materialise on plates and in dishes that automatically refill themselves as soon as they’re in danger of being emptied.

Apart from the fact that some foods, like steak and kidney pie or chips, are never served at his parents’ house because they’re considered “too common” or “too unhealthy”, especially the Blacks’ dinner parties have always been a great display of their house-elf’s cooking abilities. So despite his mother sometimes using food deprivation as a punishment, Regulus is generally no stranger to wide selections of food. Still, he’s not used to freely choosing what he wants to eat either. His mother always makes sure he has “the right things” – healthy choices, not too much and not too little. Now, he gingerly puts some lamb chops, peas and roast potatoes onto his plate and soon savours their taste.

While he eats, instead of actively participating, Regulus mostly listens to the chatter around him. He’s always found it slightly overwhelming to focus on his food and on conversations at the same time. He can do it; he’s had years of training, but he simply prefers not to.

“I think our parents know each other,” Dominicus Wilkes tells him when Regulus has nearly finished his plate. “Our fathers did a business deal some time ago?”

“Really? Yes, I guess that’s possible,” Regulus answers somewhat non-committedly. He’s never had a keen interest in his parents’ “business dealings”, which are usually connected in some way with their properties or the trade in pure-blood artefacts.

“Yes, my father thinks very highly of yours,” Dominicus presses on.

Regulus gathers as much politeness as he can, “Oh, is he? That’s nice.” That bloke seems weirdly eager to impress their connection upon Regulus, which he finds a bit pushy, leading him to gladly shift his attention to the people seated closer to him.

He already knows Evan Rosier on a superficial level, because his family is one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight in Cantankerus Nott’s Pure-Blood Directory. So is Barty’s, but unlike the Rosiers, Regulus has never met any of them; Barty’s father, Bartemius Crouch senior, is too closely aligned with the more progressive forces in the Ministry of Magic to be invited to any event the Black family would attend, let alone hold. This sparks Regulus’ interest, so he engages in conversation with Barty, who serves as a natural barrier between him and Dominicus anyway.

“Are you happy with your Sorting outcome?” Regulus asks in a neutral tone while taking not one, but two chocolate eclairs for dessert.

“Truthfully, I’m a bit surprised I ended up in Slytherin,” Barty tells him in a low voice. It feels almost like a confession, which makes Regulus frown.

“Why’s that?”

“Most of my family has been in Ravenclaw, so… I don’t know, I guess I thought there wouldn’t be another way for me,” Barty shrugs.

“Well, I reckon the Sorting Hat had its reasons for putting you in Slytherin,” Regulus says, feeling a little queasy at the realisation that the Hat would’ve almost Sorted him into Gryffindor.

“Yeah,” Barty replies with a grin spreading over his face, “Maybe it wanted us to become friends!”

This statement catches Regulus completely off-guard. Friends. He’s never really had friends before. He’s had Sirius and his cousins, and the odd superficial contact with a son or daughter of one of his parents’ associates. For some reason, it never occurred to him that he might find actual friends, just like Sirius did. But the prospect of doing so makes Regulus think that finding his own way in Slytherin might not be the end of the world, even if it means gaining a little distance from his brother.

For the first time since the Sorting ended, a genuine smile spreads over Regulus’ lips. “You’re right,” he agrees with Barty, who smiles back at him.

The longer they talk, the more Regulus grows to like the boy with the dark brown hair and light brown eyes. Barty is smart and friendly, and every now and then, a tiny hint of mischief breaks through the cracks in his self-restraint. Evan Rosier and Dorcas Meadowes also join in on the conversation at some point, with Dorcas mentioning that her father works for the Ministry of Magic. Just when Regulus wants to ask her about this, he feels the sensation of being plunged into icy water.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to float through you,” a ghost with a gaunt face is quick to apologise. This must be the Bloody Baron, Slytherin’s house ghost.

Regulus suspects that most people find him frightening with his blank, staring eyes and the silver blood-stained robes. However, probably due to the shock of the sudden rush of cold and the transparent figure’s unexpected appearance, Regulus merely blinks at him, too stunned to speak.

“It’s okay,” he finally manages to get out, “It happens… I guess.”

“Indeed. Still, I’m sorry. I was, shall we say, preoccupied,” the ghost explains, looking a little yearningly over to the Ravenclaw table, at a tall female ghost with waist-length hair and a long cloak.

Regulus’ eyebrows fly up, but before he can say anything more, Albus Dumbledore stands from his seat and the Hall quickly falls silent.

“Now that hopefully all your bellies are full, you can soon go to bed and get some good rest over the weekend, before your heads will be filled as well, come Monday. However, before I send you off, I would like to make a few start-of-term announcements.”

As the headmaster talks, Regulus watches him, thinking about his parents’ opinion of the man. In 1945, he defeated Gellert Grindelwald, whom Regulus’ family had valued greatly for his positions on the superiority of wizards over Muggles. According to them, Grindelwald was the first wizard in a long time powerful enough to finally bring back and enforce Salazar Slytherin’s views on the purity of wizarding bloodlines. Consequently, Dumbledore was and still is like a red rag to a Graphorn for most of Regulus’ family.

“The Quidditch tryouts will take place as of the second week of term. If you’re interested in joining your house team, please check with your respective team captain. Furthermore, I would like to remind you that the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds to students at all times. Lastly, Mr Filch has kindly asked me to remind you all that the use of jinxes in the corridors is not permitted.”

Dumbledore’s voice is a mix of formality and amusement as he speaks. At first glance, one might be fooled into perceiving him as kind and warm-hearted. A friendly, long-bearded grandfather with piercing blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles. For some reason, though, he gives Regulus the creeps. He couldn’t pinpoint what, but something about that man is off.

Luckily, he doesn’t need to examine this thought further, because Dumbledore now dismisses the students and everybody rises from their seats.

“Follow me, please,” a girl from the Slytherin table with a prefect badge pinned to her school robes all but shouts over the general noise.

Together with Barty, and with Evan and Dorcas close behind, Regulus obliges, trailing after her to leave the Great Hall. Before he’s even halfway to the doors, however, a hand grabs hold of his arm.

“Reggie, wait!” There it is again. Sirius’ face, the disappointment from earlier significantly reduced, but still looking a little pained. “Are you alright? I’m sorry your Sorting didn’t go as— I mean, I’m sorry you—”

“It’s okay, Sirius,” Regulus interrupts him before he can stumble on. “It’s fine. It’s just a different house. It’s not like I was sent to a different country or something.” He can’t resist the dig, even though Sirius won’t understand it, not knowing about their parents’ discussion of sending Regulus to Durmstrang.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Sirius agrees, relief in his features now. “We’ll make sure to see loads of each other anyway.”

“That’s right, we’ll make an exception to our ‘No Slytherins’ rule for you, so you’re welcome to visit your brother anytime,” James, who’s just catching up with Sirius, adds with a wink.

A feeling that Regulus can’t quite place makes his chest feel tight, all of a sudden. It’s probably indignation at James’ renewed display of audacity. He pushes it down, though, reminding himself that he wants to try and get along with him, for Sirius.

“Thank you, James. That’s very generous of you,” he agrees, unable to completely hide the sarcasm in his voice.

James doesn’t seem to notice or mind, either way. He merely laughs cheerfully, taking a deep, comical bow, just when Peter and Remus join him and Sirius so the five of them can make their way out of the Great Hall together.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Sirius gives Regulus a quick hug before turning towards the stairs leading up.

“Yes, see you tomorrow,” Regulus replies, following his fellow Slytherins on their way to the Dungeons.

“Who was that flashy git?” Barty asks wide-eyed when Regulus catches up with him and the others.

“That was my brother, Sirius,” Regulus retorts with a frown, feeling a little offended on Sirius’ behalf.

“No, not him! I could see that’s your brother, you two look quite alike. I mean the other one, with the glasses.”

“Ah,” Regulus can’t help but smile at Barty’s assessment. “That was his best friend, James Potter. And yes, he is a bit of a git.”

“This is the entrance to our common room,” the prefect tells them when the small group comes to a halt in front of a bare, damp patch of dungeon wall. “The current password is ‘Serpent’. Don’t share it with people from other houses.” A concealed stone door slides open when she mentions the password, and the girl turns to walk through it, Regulus and the other first-years following her inside.

The Slytherin common room is a place that has been mentioned often in Regulus’ presence, mainly in stories his cousins told at family gatherings – about things that had taken place here, people they met, and the like. He knew that it’s “under the lake”, so he’s always envisioned it as kind of an aquarium vaguely resembling a living room with the Slytherin colours of emerald and silver everywhere. However, what Regulus sees now is nothing like his imagination but way more sophisticated and elegant.

The room is indeed underground and it’s rather long and low. Nevertheless, there are exquisitely sculpted, elongated windows. Since they are below the lake’s surface, the little moonlight that currently reaches them casts everything into an aquamarine glow. The round greenish lamps hanging from the ceiling on silver chains take up that colour theme nicely, and in one of the rough stone walls, there’s an elaborately carved mantlepiece with a fire hissing and popping in it. Carved dark wood chairs are neatly placed next to equally crafted tables, but Regulus also spots several pristine black leather Chesterfield armchairs that he can very well see himself reading in.

“The girls’ bedrooms are this way, the boys’ dormitories down there. If you need me, ask for Hecate Eades. Have a nice first evening,” the prefect girl says and leaves the group in the direction of the girls’ dormitories.

Most of the first-years either follow her or walk towards the boys’ dorms, but Regulus stays behind for a moment, continuing to look around.

“So you’re Regulus Black, are you?” A broad-shouldered, rather tall boy holds out his hand to him. “My name is Mulciber. Argenteus Mulciber. You might know of me.”

Regulus can’t keep his eyebrow from twitching. Know of him? Is that bloke serious?

“I don’t think I do, I’m afraid I must say,” he states haughtily, standing a little straighter but not taking the hand. He’s been taught to avoid speaking to just anyone who approaches him randomly, after all.

Mulciber eyes him appraisingly, slowly retracting his arm. “You think you’re something else, do you?”

“I—”

But before Regulus can reply, a somewhat burly-looking girl with long dark hair appears seemingly out of nowhere, looking at him with wide, keen eyes. Her, Regulus knows, at least superficially. Dahlia Parkinson is roughly three years older than him, but her family has made frequent appearances in the Black’s social circle.

“I think how you handled the Bloody Baron earlier was very impressive!” she says to Regulus before throwing Mulciber a pointed look. “I find him so scary,” she then explains in a lower voice, looking around, presumably for the ghost. “But you just sat there, completely unperturbed, and dismissed him! Awe-inspiring, truly!”

“Oh. Thank you,” Regulus is a little confused, but he quickly schools his face into a neutral expression. This is not how he perceived the situation, but he knows that more often than not, it’s better to confirm people in their impression of you, if it’s in your favour.

“Regulus! There you are!” As soon as Narcissa appears, the other two scuttle away, Dahlia Parkinson after a quickly whispered “I’ll see you around!”

“Cissy, hello,” he greets her, glad to let his poised demeanour relax a bit.

“Don’t worry, I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to tell you that I’ve taken the liberty of informing your mother about your successful Sorting. Though I daresay she’ll appreciate a letter from you as well, confirming how proud you are to reinstate the family tradition.”

“Right. Of course. I’ll write to her as soon as tomorrow,” Regulus answers. He’s already thought about this, too.

“Terrific, have a good night then, I’m glad to have you here,” She gives his shoulder a brief squeeze and then heads off towards the girls’ dormitories.

Unwilling to meet yet another person who wants to impose themself on him, Regulus decides to not stay in the common room either, but to find his dormitory after all.

“I secured us beds by the windows!” Barty welcomes him with a wide smile, all restraint from earlier seemingly forgotten.

There are four four-poster beds in the dormitory, two at the window through which the same greenish light as in the common room streams in, and two closer to the door where Regulus is still standing. Each pair of beds faces one another, and Barty is currently sitting on the bed under the window, to Regulus’ right-hand side.

“Thank you,” Regulus smiles, happy that Barty thoughtfully reserved him one of the nicer beds. “Where are Evan and um… Dominicus? Wilkes?”

“Evan is in the bathroom, Nicky… no idea,” Barty shrugs.

“Nicky?” Regulus grins as he moves towards his new bed and runs his fingers over its emerald green curtains. The fabric is thick and probably even a little sound-absorbing.

“Yeah, he wasn’t too pleased with the name, for some reason,” Barty smirks. “But come on, with wacky names like ours? I know I definitely prefer being called ‘Barty’ and you’ll obviously be Reggie!” He proclaims with a broad grin, before it falters at Regulus’ arched eyebrows. “Is— I mean, if that’s okay with you?”

So far, only Sirius and sometimes his cousins have ever called him Reggie and he somehow feels that the use of nicknames implies a familiarity and intimacy he doesn’t want with a lot of people. However, even though Regulus has always rather liked his name, he can’t deny that it is a little clunky.

“It’s alright, I think you can call me Reggie,” he therefore acquiesces, “Reg works too.”

Barty nods with a smile and they talk a bit about their first impressions of Hogwarts while Regulus opens his trunk at the foot of his bed and starts to unpack. Evan soon appears, joining the conversation, and the three of them keep chatting until it becomes hard to keep their eyes open.

Dominicus only comes back when Regulus has already drawn his curtains closed, finding that they make sharing a bedroom significantly more comfortable. As he lies in bed, he thinks about everything that happened today – the fun train ride, then Sirius’ later disappointment, his encouraging words, his friends. Regulus’ own potential new friends, random people scrutinising and approaching him… He’s not sure what to make of that yet, but he’s awfully tired from the day’s excitement and his bed is so warm and comfortable, the mattress so soft and the duvet so fluffy and cosy, that he soon drifts off before he can ponder any of it further.

Chapter Text

Regulus’ first morning at Hogwarts starts with mild confusion. After an exceptionally good night’s sleep, he slowly wakes to the sound of muffled voices around him and for a moment, he’s unsure where he is. But then it all comes rushing back to him – his Sorting, Sirius, Barty… The thought of the latter brings a smile to Regulus’ face, despite the early hour.

Is it early, though?

“What time is it?” he asks, pulling back his curtains and wincing as the sunlight hits his face.

Merlin, that’s bright!

“Good morning to you, too!” Barty’s voice greets him. Regulus can’t see him yet, because he’s squeezed his eyes shut. He’s always been rather sensitive to light, especially this early in the morning. Which brings him back to his initial question.

“What time is it?” he tries again.

“Why, aren’t you a right little ray of sunshine?” Barty teases, the grin audible in his voice.

Thankfully, Evan shows Regulus some mercy, “It’s half past eight. Perfect time for breakfast.”

Regulus flops back onto his mattress. “Ok, give me ten minutes,” he sighs groggily, running his hand over his face and slowly opening his eyes at last.

While Regulus gets ready for breakfast, Evan and Barty chat about their plans for the weekend. The first of September was a Friday, so they now have two whole days to explore the castle and the grounds.

“We can go check out where everything is,” Evan suggests, “The Quidditch pitch, for example, the greenhouses, and it probably won’t hurt to find the library as well. I reckon we’ll need it eventually.”

“Great idea. Do you want to come with, Reg?” asks Barty.

“Yes, I’d like that!” Regulus has been looking forward to visiting the Hogwarts library for ages, and he’s also more than excited to see the Quidditch pitch.

“Fab! How about you, Nicky?” Barty smirks at the boy.

“For a start, Crouch, I would prefer not to be called Nicky,” Dominicus informs them, disdainfully wrinkling his nose, “Nor Nick or any other abbreviation of my first name.”

“Right, okay, okay!” Barty replies instantly, holding up his hands in surrender, “Wilkes it is, then.”

“Indeed. Thank you,” Wilkes nods curtly. “Black, Rosier, I’ll see you around,” he adds and exits the dormitory, leaving Regulus and the other two looking at each other with raised eyebrows.

“Merlin’s pants, what’s his problem?” Barty’s eyes are wide, but Evan and Regulus can only shrug in response.

If Regulus is being honest, he’s a little relieved that Wilkes is displaying such a dismissive attitude. He didn’t like him much to begin with, but he does look forward to getting to know Barty and Evan better. When the three of them arrive in the Great Hall and Regulus finds their dormmate animatedly talking with Mulciber and Cenwig Avery, he likes Wilkes even less. Avery is another boy Regulus knows fleetingly from his parents’ circles and who, so far, has shown himself to be just as sycophantic and unpleasant as Wilkes. Therefore, Regulus is glad to spot the braided black hair of Dorcas’ head a little further down the Slytherin table.

Dorcas has turned out to be interesting and amiable in yesterday’s conversation during and after the welcome feast, so Regulus would be happy to chat with her a little more.

“May we sit here?” he asks when he, Barty and Evan stop next to the girl.

“Oh, sure, hi! Nice to see you again,” she motions for them to take seats.

“Are you all alone?” Barty frowns, sitting down on the bench.

“Yes, I um… The other girls from my dormitory were already gone when I woke up, so…” she trails off.

“Well, we’re here now,” Evan says consolingly, smiling at her while ladling sausages onto his plate, “Fancy joining us later? We’re going to look around a bit, see where everything is and so on.”

A smile spreads over her lips at this, “Oh, yes, I’d like that, thanks for asking me!”

In response, Evan merely waves his hand in a don’t-mention-it gesture.

“So, are you happy being a Slytherin?” Regulus asks Dorcas while cutting a piece off his fried egg.

“I was mostly surprised, to be honest. I thought Slytherin was for old-established pure-blood families. I am a pure-blood, but my parents only came to the UK 15 years ago,” she muses. “I guess Slytherin is alright, I didn’t really have a preference for any house, seeing that my parents didn’t go to school here, you know?”

His mouth currently filled with food, Regulus merely nods in understanding while Evan asks, “Where did your parents go to school, then?”

“In Sudan, where they were born and raised.” There’s a slight gleam of pride in Dorcas’ features if Regulus’ interpretation is correct. “My father went to school there and my mother was homeschooled by her mother.”

“Cool! So do you know a lot of Sudanese magic then?” Barty inquires with genuine interest.

“A bit. My mother homeschooled me before, and she’s a self-employed healer, so she taught me some healing magic from our ancestors.”

“That’s really interesting,” Regulus says, “And your father works for the Ministry of Magic, you said?”

“Yes, but that sounds more spectacular than it is,” she chuckles. “He works in the department for International Magical Cooperation, but it’s not like he’s a really big shot or anything. He’s happy with his job, though and he makes enough money to support our family.”

Regulus finds all this rather fascinating, but before he can say anything more, a large number of owls enters the Great Hall seemingly out of nowhere. As the animals deliberately target individual people and drop letters on the table or even on their plates, he quickly realises that this must be the morning post.

“Oh, hi Umbra,” he greets his parents’ long-eared owl as the bird neatly sets down a scroll of parchment in front of him on the table.

Unfortunately, Regulus hasn’t got any owl treats on him, but he gives the bird a few gentle strokes between her eyes before she takes flight again. Then he unrolls the parchment to read a letter written in his mother’s sharp and angular handwriting.

Regulus,

Your father and I were most pleased to learn of your successful Sorting into Slytherin House. We trust you understand that we likewise expect your academic performance to reflect the exalted standards befitting a Black.

Yours sincerely,
your Mother

Regulus keeps looking at the letter in his hands for a moment, glad that his parents are pleased with him becoming a Slytherin. After all, that was the whole point of asking the Sorting Hat to put him there, wasn’t it? Well, now he has more reasons to be happy about his house – Dorcas is nice to talk to, there’s Evan and above all, Barty, who—

“What’s up?” Regulus frowns as he looks up at his new friend. Barty has light skin to begin with, but his complexion now looks positively chalky. He’s holding a letter in his hands as well, slowly raising his eyes from it to Regulus.

“Nothing, um… It’s just— My dad wrote to me, telling me that he’s erm… disappointed. That I didn’t get into Ravenclaw, you know? Told you, most of my family went there. He writes that he still expects me to get good marks and… yeah…” he trails off. “I have no idea how he even knows about my Sorting yet. I reckon it got to him through one of his Ministry contacts or something.” Shrugging, Barty rolls up the parchment and puts it away in his pocket.

“I’m sorry, mate, that sounds awful,” Evan says with a deep furrow in his brow, “But look at it this way: Your dad’s not here now, but we’re here and we’re going to have a good time. Right, Reg?” After giving Barty an encouraging smile, Evan fixes Regulus with a look that clearly tells him, “Back me up on this one!”.

Regulus wouldn’t have needed Evan’s silent request either way. “Yes, of course!” he agrees at once, in his most reassuring voice.

Dorcas shows her support by nodding vigorously as well, and together, they manage to coax a hesitant smile out of Barty.

Before Regulus can go and explore the school with Barty, Evan and Dorcas, he has to send a response to his mother. It isn’t long, merely a quick note, confirming that he’s proud to uphold the family’s tradition and that he will, of course, apply himself to his scholastic pursuits with the utmost diligence.

Locating the owlery is easy enough – the top of West Tower is hard to miss. However, he does find it a bit gross. In Grimmauld Place, the family’s owls are kept in a space under the roof, which Kreacher keeps spotless at all times. Here, the circular stone room is littered with owl pellets and droppings, making the laid-out straw slippery and, in Regulus’ opinion, very unappealing. Wrinkling his nose, he’s glad that Izar is so well-trained. The bird comes soaring down to him immediately, from somewhere high up among the hundreds of other owls, most of them asleep on the perches.

“Hello, how are you?” He lightly strokes over the animal’s softly feathered chest as he lands on Regulus’ held-out arm. Izar gives a low hoot in response.

“Hey! Good to see you again!”

Regulus turns around in surprise at the unexpected greeting and sees none other than James Potter entering the owlery, a rolled-up piece of parchment in his hand.

“Hello! Yes, you too,” he answers reflexively.

“I was talking to the bird,” James winks, immediately followed by, “No, I’m just kidding. It is good to see you. Are you settling in alright?”

Regulus eyes him irritably for a moment before letting it go with a small sigh. For Sirius. “Yes, I am, thank you for asking.”

“Oh, that’s good to hear. Sirius was worried, I think, that you might… I don’t know, be sad or disappointed or something.” James’ expression shows a degree of compassion that Regulus frankly wouldn’t have expected. But maybe he’s not being completely fair to judge, because he’s only known James for less than 48 hours.

“Oh. Well, I guess I was a little disappointed at first,” he concedes after a moment, “but I think it’s like he said, isn’t it? We’ll still see loads of each other.”

“Exactly. You’re welcome in Gryffindor Tower anytime.” James smiles at him before whistling on two fingers so that a short-eared owl swoops down from up above, right onto his arm.

“Nice owl,” Regulus remarks politely. On the train, the bird’s cage was covered, so up until now, he had no idea what Snidget looks like.

“Thank you. My parents gave her to me before I left for Hogwarts. So I could always write to them, you know? I’m sending them a letter right now,” James explains casually while tying the parchment to Snidget’s leg. After a brief, gentle pat on her head, she takes off through one of the many glassless windows.

Interesting, Regulus thinks to himself. He got Izar when he was five years old and had just learned how to write. He didn’t have many people to write to, except for Andromeda and Narcissa, but his parents saw the status symbol as appropriate for that age anyway. The thought that James’ parents bought him an owl solely for the purpose so he can write to them is a little… curious.

“I like barn owls too, though,” James tells him with another smile and a nod towards Izar. “I think they’re kind of majestic, don’t you?”

“Yes, I guess so,” Regulus agrees slowly. He’s never really thought about it, but this might be why his parents chose Izar for him in the first place. Sirius’ owl is a barn owl too. Or was? Beteigeuze is alive and fine, but Regulus isn’t entirely sure if he still is Sirius’ owl, considering that he was confiscated.

“Listen, Regulus, do you want to come by today and spend time with Sirius, me and the others?” I’m sure he’d be happy to catch up with you, about how you’re doing so far and everything."

“That’s very considerate of you,” Regulus answers, not quite able to hide his surprise.

James merely shrugs, but the corners of his mouth tug upwards. “So it’s a yes?”

“Um, yes, I’d like to meet up with you, but I can’t today. I’ve already made plans with a few fellow first-years. How about tomorrow?”

James positively beams in at this, “Oh, I’m glad to hear that you’ve already found friends! I’m sure Sirius will be, too. Tomorrow works great. Meet us at the lake after breakfast?”

A warmth spreads through Regulus that he attributes to knowing he’ll be seeing his brother tomorrow. “I‘ll be there. Thank you for… you know, thinking of it.”

“Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow then!” James turns to leave the owlery.

“Yes, see you!”

As he finally ties his own letter to Izar’s leg, Regulus thinks about how nice James just was to him. He cracked a stupid joke in the beginning, but other than that, there was none of the pompous, self-indulging arrogance he displayed yesterday. Maybe he doesn’t show off as much when his friends aren’t around.

Regulus might find out more tomorrow. For now, he sends Izar off with the letter and then leaves the draughty owlery to go and meet with Barty and the others.

“There you are!” Barty welcomes him happily at their agreed meeting spot in the Entrance Hall. His worries about his father’s letter seem to be forgotten.

“Yeah, now we can finally go to the Quidditch pitch,” Evan adds excitedly.

“What about Dorcas?” Regulus asks, “Didn’t she want to join us?”

“Yeah, but she was so curious about the greenhouses that she’s already gone ahead. We’ll meet up with her later, she’s not that interested in Quidditch,” Evan answers.

The three of them leave the castle to walk towards the Quidditch pitch, anticipation bubbling up inside Regulus’ stomach. He’s been to Quidditch games before, mostly with one of his cousins or his uncle, but he’s never had the chance to play on an actual pitch himself. The closest he’s come were the summers at his family’s holiday estates in Scotland or the South of France, where he and Sirius hardly did anything else but fly over the vast, deserted grounds.

“Not bad!” Barty says appreciatively, taking in the pitch with a low whistle.

It is impressive – the high goalposts, the stands, the overall size of the stadium-like structure. Regulus already looks forward to playing for his team.

“Are you lads going to try out next year, when we’re allowed to bring our own broomsticks?” Evan looks at them both with a keen expression.

“I’m afraid I’m not good enough to make the house team, but I’m always up for a casual game with friends,” Barty winks.

“I totally get it. I’m the same,” Evan agrees, and then both their faces turn towards Regulus.

“Oh. Yes, I definitely want to try out next year. If they don’t take me then, I’ll simply try again the year after, until I make it.”

“Sounds determined,” Evan nods, brows lifted and his lower lip protruding slightly, “We’ll be in the stands, cheering you on, then.”

“Absolutely!” confirms Barty, “And my offer stands! If you ever fancy an extra training session, I’m your man!”

Shortly after this, a couple of Ravenclaw students, who apparently booked the pitch even this early in the term, chase the three first-years away. For some reason, the Ravenclaws seem to become a little more lenient once they recognise Regulus. However, since he, Barty, and Evan are mostly done looking anyway, he leaves without inquiring further.

While they head for the greenhouses, Regulus continues chatting with Barty and Evan, taking the opportunity to get to know them better. He learns that Barty has a crup named Grim that he left at home. He misses his pet but knows that the Crouches’ house-elf Winky is taking good care of him. The Rosiers, albeit being an old pure-blood family, don’t have a house-elf and Evan doesn’t own any pets either. He’d like to have a fire crab because he thinks they look cool, but for some reason, his parents never allowed him one.

“Oh really?” Barty cackles, “I wonder why that is! I mean, who wouldn’t want an animal that can shoot flames from its rear as a pet for their son?”

Laughing cheerfully, the three of them walk the rest of the way to the greenhouses where they meet Dorcas. As it turns out, she has already enjoyed an exclusive tour of greenhouses one and two with Professor Sprout. The Herbology teacher had been very enthusiastic about Dorcas’ knowledge of Sudanese healing plants and proudly showed her some of her own cultivations.

“To be honest, I don’t think Herbology will be my best subject, but it was still nice to feel appreciated,” Dorcas tells the three boys, once Professor Sprout has dismissed her, to go and continue working with the more dangerous plants in the other greenhouses.

“What will be your best subject then, you reckon?” Evan wants to know, “I think I’ll do well in Transfiguration.”

“Oh, Defence Against the Dark Arts for sure,” she beams, accepting a high-five from Barty, who agrees with her.

“Me too! I can’t wait to learn all the cool spells against curses and fight dark creatures like Dementors and such! What about you, Reg?”

Regulus feels the corner of his mouth twitch at Barty’s enthusiasm. He doesn’t think that they’ll fight Dementors for quite some time, probably not at all, but he doesn’t see the need to point this out.

“I think I’ll like Potions. And you’re often best at the things you like, right?” he shrugs.

“I’m not sure about that, actually,” Evan disagrees, “You know, I really like to sing, but I’m not at all good at it.”

This draws a proper laugh out of Regulus and Dorcas while Barty ruffles a hand through Evan’s blond hair, leaving it tousled, “I think you just made a huge mistake, pal! Now I won’t rest until I’ve heard your singing voice, which I’m sure is delightful!”

“So what kind of plants did you talk about with Professor Sprout?” Regulus asks Dorcas, while they all walk back towards the castle, with Evan and Barty still mucking about on the way.

She launches into an account about several herbs, flowers and shrubs the teacher just showed her, increasing Regulus’ excitement about Potions as he thinks about all the draughts and concoctions he’ll be able to brew with them.

Besides the Quidditch pitch, the library is one of the places Regulus has looked forward to most at Hogwarts. Upon entering it, he’s greeted by the wonderful scent of old and new books and parchment. Looking around, he spots Remus, huddled over a table with a red-haired girl. When he looks up, Regulus nods at him in greeting and sees Remus nodding back before whispering something to the girl. She looks over at Regulus as well and although she briefly seems to crease her forehead, she ultimately gives a small wave that Regulus returns.

“Mind the books, please! What are you doing here, waving around in the library?” A thin woman with sunken cheeks and skin like parchment, who Regulus suspects is the librarian, appears at his side, scolding him, “If you need movement, go to the Quidditch pitch!”

With her long, hooked nose and looking down at him like this, she reminds him forcefully of a vulture. Still, since he’ll probably be spending a lot of time here and might need her help in the future, Regulus figures that he should try and get on her good side.

“I’m terribly sorry, of course I will stop behaving like this immediately. I can assure you, I am always mindful of books, especially in a magnificent library like this one,” he answers, putting on his most demure yet charming smile, “I only came here to look for some books on Herbology. I assume you’re the librarian, so if you could by any chance point the way for me, I would be ever so grateful.”

Unexpectedly enough, this seems to placate her. She huffs a little disbelievingly at first, but ultimately indicates a direction.

“Thank you, …” he looks at her, raising his eyebrows a little.

“I’m Madam Pince. The librarian and guardian of these books,” she tells him, proudly waving her hand over the volumes and parchment rolls.

Regulus inclines his head politely. “Thank you very much, Madam Pince,” he says before swiftly moving to the shelves she pointed towards. As he goes, he notices Remus’ impressed gaze from the corner of his eye.

He does look for Herbology books after that and comes across a particularly interesting one that he’ll definitely flick through, sometime. When he browses the other shelves, he finds Evan and Dorcas, who fled from Madam Pince. Dorcas appears just as appreciatively fascinated as Remus.

“How on earth did you manage for her to leave you alone?” she eyes him incredulously, “I know you’re a wizard, but you didn’t hex or jinx her or anything, did you?”

“Years of practice,” Regulus shrugs. When she merely stares blankly at him, he elaborates, “I’ve been to a lot of social gatherings where I had to interact with important acquaintances of my parents, cultivate contacts and that sort of thing. So I reckon I’ve kind of learned to influence people.”

“Oh, I know what you mean,” Evan muses, “Those kinds of parties and events are always boring as hell, aren’t they? It’s good to know they can come in handy.”

“Right, listen up!” It’s Barty reappearing out of nowhere, whispering excitedly just when Regulus is about to agree with Evan, “See that aisle over there? It leads straight to the Restricted Section! The books that they have there? Crazy!”

“How do you know?” Dorcas frowns.

“Yes, I thought you needed a teacher’s note to get books from the Restricted Section,” Regulus agrees.

“I didn’t go in, obviously, but I saw an older student coming out with a book on the Dark Arts. I bet there’s loads of fascinating stuff in there!”

“If you want books on the Dark Arts, I can lend you some from my home. My parents’ library is full of them,” Regulus retorts, not finding the subject overly exciting.

Barty seems thrilled about this, but Regulus is much more interested in learning about new topics. Things he doesn’t know anything about yet. His cousin Bellatrix may be barking mad, but she once told him that knowledge is power and somehow, this had sparked his curiosity, and his thirst for said knowledge never subsided after that.

Regulus spends the rest of Saturday with his new friends in the library, and afterwards they roam parts of the castle to find the Astronomy Tower, talking to several paintings along the way. On Sunday, Regulus goes to meet Sirius and his friends, like he agreed upon with James. 

It’s a late-summer day, not hot, but still just warm enough to stay outside with a light jacket. Regulus doesn’t like heat much anyway. With skin as pale as his, he does much better staying out of the sun. Overcast but dry, like today, is just perfect, in his opinion. He does like the rain too, but not necessarily for sitting out in the open.

“I think it’s sad that summer’s coming to an end now. I love spending time in the sun by the lake with you lot, tickling the Giant Squid, thinking up practical jokes,” James sighs, a reminiscent smile on his lips.

It’s the first thing Regulus catches as soon as he comes within hearing range. He suppresses the urge to snort and shake his head, because of course James, who appears quite the sunny boy, would prefer the summer. Instead of dwelling on this, however, Regulus waves at Sirius in greeting.

“Reggie, hey!” he shouts, jumping up immediately to hug Regulus tightly.

Regulus has never been much of a touchy-feely person, this is one thing he and Sirius differ greatly in.

“Hey, Sirius.” He hugs him back nevertheless because he knows it’s important to his brother.

After saying hello to Remus, Peter and James as well, Regulus sits down on the blanket the others have spread out under a beech tree at the edge of the Great Lake.

“How are you doing, Reg? Remus here told us that you’ve already made friends with Madam Pince?” Sirius smirks gleefully.

Regulus rolls his eyes but can’t quite keep his mouth from twitching, especially when Remus grins a little sheepishly, his added shrug confirming yesterday’s interpretation that he was indeed impressed. So Regulus tells the group about his encounter with the librarian and how he was able to smooth everything over.

“I think Madam Pince is kind of scary,” Peter admits when Regulus has finished his story.

“She is something, I’ll give you that, Pete,” James agrees, “But I’m sure if Regulus has only half his brother’s knack for charming people, it wasn’t exactly difficult to talk Madam Pince around.” He looks at Sirius with a smirk, “Although you’ve never managed to get into Pince’s good graces, have you, mate?”

A pleasant warmth unfolds in Regulus’ chest as he watches Sirius and James mock-arguing after this, hopeful anticipation building inside him that he’ll develop a similarly close friendship, possibly with Barty. He couldn’t really put it into words, maybe the alchemy between them is simply right, but in any case Regulus feels a connection there.

“Who was the girl I saw you with yesterday?” Regulus asks Remus while Sirius and James keep bantering with each other.

“Oh, that was Lily. Lily Evans, from our year. We became friends sometime last year and did a lot of studying together. She doesn’t like James and your brother much, though, I’m afraid. They’re too um…”

“Much?” Regulus provides helpfully.

A startled little laugh escapes Remus at that, “Yeah, I reckon that’s pretty much bang on, to be honest. They’re a little too much for her.”

“I don’t think I can blame her,” Regulus replies, eyeing his brother with a small but fond smile. Sirius now has James in a playful chokehold, ruffling his hair to make it even messier.

“Lily simply can’t handle our brilliance,” James croaks, “She and Remus are total swots. To me and Sirius, being the best in our year just comes naturally.”

There it is again – James’ arrogant streak. Regulus was already wondering when it would resurface.

“Who were you with anyway?” Remus prompts Regulus, completely ignoring James’ remark. “Fellow Slytherins?”

“Yes, Barty Crouch junior, Evan Rosier and Dorcas Meadowes. We decided to explore the castle and the grounds a bit. Saw the Quidditch pitch—”

“Yeah, James mentioned that you made plans with someone,” Sirius, evidently done horsing around, turns his attention back to his brother, “I’m glad you found friends already, Reg.” He gives him a genuine smile that Regulus happily returns.

“Yes, we really get along well.”

“And did I hear that right, you went to see the Quidditch pitch?” James inquires, “How did you like it?”

Remus lies back on the blanket contentedly while Regulus engages in a conversation on Quidditch at Hogwarts with the other three. Afterwards, all five of them spend a good part of the afternoon talking and having fun together, and Regulus even catches a glimpse of the infamous Giant Squid, at some point.

While chatting more with Sirius’ friends, he discovers that Peter has a sister named Penelope, who is ten years older than him, but that Remus and James, like Barty, Evan, and Dorcas, are only children. Regulus finds this remarkable, because having grown up with a brother, he somehow always thought siblings were a given. His cousins are three sisters too, after all.

What he deems more important, though, is that Sirius’ friends quickly become Regulus’ friends too as they take him into their fold. He’s still happy to have found his own friends and looks forward to deepening those connections, but he has been looking forward to freely talking with Sirius again. Now, he’s relieved that Remus, James and Peter aren’t getting in the way of this at all. On the contrary, spending time with his brother and his friends in the last remnants of Scottish summer is certainly one of Regulus’ highlights of his first weekend at Hogwarts.

Chapter Text

Classes start rather anticlimactically. Sure, Professor Binns entering his classroom through the blackboard is an interesting sight, but that’s about the most exciting thing that can be said about History of Magic. After this, however, it’s Transfiguration and Potions on Mondays, and Regulus finds both to be much more intriguing than Binns’ monotonous dronings on the Gargoyle strike of 1911. In fact, the first Potions lesson, while a little awkward in the beginning, turns out to be just as enjoyable as he hoped.

Regulus’ initial thought about Professor Slughorn is that he looks like a very strangely-dressed walrus. Of course, any dressed walrus would look strange, but either way, Slughorn’s appearance is nothing like Regulus would’ve expected. The teacher has a well-known reputation for surrounding himself with influential people, his invitation on the Hogwarts Express for Regulus to join the Slug Club being a confirmation of this. Since Slughorn is the head of Slytherin House, several members of the Black family have crossed paths with him too, though none of them is particularly fond of him, which is probably why Regulus hasn’t met him yet.

This being said, after everything he’d heard about the teacher, the image in Regulus’ head resembled a tall, slender man, thick hair neatly styled. Someone charismatic, elegant, with smooth manners and an effortlessly confident stance. That’s not to say Slughorn isn’t well-mannered or self-assured, but his very thin, greying blond hair barely covers the shiny top of his head that merges into a rather vast forehead. He’s not very tall either, although he certainly makes up for this in girth. However, the main feature responsible for Regulus’ walrus analogy is Slughorn’s huge moustache that looks just like the animals’ vibrissae, especially since the greyish colour with a few faint wisps of ginger also has something walrus-like. On top of all this, instead of dandy-like elegant, the teacher’s embroidered dark-green waistcoat and purple velvet smoking jacket, both studded with shiny golden buttons, come across as rather tacky, even a little tasteless, in Regulus’ opinion.

Now, Regulus truly doesn’t judge the man by his looks, he’s just surprised to discover the exact opposite of what he imagined. Unfortunately, he’s not quite as surprised by Slughorn’s reaction to him during their first in-person encounter.

“Ah, Mister Black, we finally meet at last!” The teacher booms so loudly that Regulus flinches in his seat in the Potions classroom.

Most of the Slytherins around him smile approvingly at the recognition, a couple of Gryffindors, with whom the Slytherins share the Potions lessons, roll their eyes, presumably irritated about Slughorn favouring someone from his own house. Instinctively, Regulus sits up a little straighter, lifting his chin and schooling his face into a slightly defiant expression.

“I was ever so disappointed when you didn’t join me in my compartment aboard the Hogwarts Express,” Slughorn continues, “I assume someone as distinguished as you had other engagements to fulfil?”

He doesn’t seem angry or offended as he says this, but rather a little prying, like he expects Regulus to tell him some juicy story about who he spent his time with instead. Well, there isn’t anything scandalous to tell, so Regulus settles on the simple, albeit a little embellished, truth.

“Yes, Professor, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to follow your invitation. I spent the train ride in my brother’s compartment and made so many new acquaintances there that I lost track of time. We arrived at school far too quickly, I’m afraid.” He says all this in his most pleasant small talk voice, combined with a polite smile. Regulus hates small talk with a passion, but he’s been trained in it by his parents ever since his first words, and this practice certainly comes in handy now.

“Oh, of course, your brother Sirius!” Slughorn replies enthusiastically, “I must say, losing him to Gryffindor was quite the disappointment, but I’m all the more proud the Sorting Hat decided to put you into my house, Mister Black. Very proud indeed.”

“Thank you, Sir. I appreciate this.”

“Oh, not at all, m’boy,” Slughorn waves him off, while twiddling the end of his moustache with his other hand, “However, I do hope you’ll live up to the expectations your cousin Narcissa has instilled in me. She’s quite the talent in Potions, whereas your brother…” he hesitates briefly to give a small chuckle, “He isn’t doing badly in my classes, of course, but I daresay Sirius’ greater talents lie elsewhere.” He finishes with a genial little smile.

“Yes, Professor, I think his best subject is Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

It drives our mother mad, Regulus doesn’t say out loud. Sirius confided in him that he deliberately puts the most effort into the subject because it annoys her so much. But Slughorn doesn’t need to know this. He doesn’t seem to care much anyway.

“Certainly another important subject,” he merely concedes, “In any case, I would be delighted to welcome both you and your brother to my next little gathering. You will receive an invitation in due course, Mister Black.”

“Gladly, Sir. Thank you,” Regulus replies, and that’s that. After this, Slughorn proceeds to talk about his subject and introduces the class to the basics of potion making. He’s not unfriendly by any means; Regulus actually finds him rather affable, but it’s still a bit of a relief when Slughorn moves on from him. Regulus has never liked the spotlight much, that’s always been Sirius’ forte.

What Regulus does like, or rather whom, is Dorcas. When Slughorn tasks the class to brew a simple beginner’s potion, Regulus gets the chance to chat with her a bit, since they share a cauldron next to Barty and Evan.

“Do you have any experience with potion brewing?” she asks while she fills the cauldron with water and Regulus crushes a handful of snake fangs.

“Yes, I’ve done a couple at home. Easier ones, but they all turned out fairly well. How about you?” he replies, grinding the fangs into a fine powder, “Your mother must be good at making potions if she’s a healer, I assume?”

“Oh!” Dorcas looks up at him in surprise, “I didn’t— I mean, that’s great. It’s great that you have experience. My mum never let me brew anything myself. My parents are very strict about underage magic, you know? I was allowed to help, though, cut ingredients, sort good beetle eyes from bad ones and things like that. And mum let me watch her, of course.” She frowns slightly, then adds playfully, “I’m surprised that you’re allowed to use magic at home, Mister Distinguished.”

“Ha-ha,” Regulus mumbles awkwardly, “Please don’t call me that, I have no idea what Slughorn was on about.”

In truth, he’s got a very good idea what Slughorn meant. Regulus’ parents taught him that being a Black meant bearing a particular responsibility – raising and fulfilling certain expectations, setting examples and so forth. Up until now, he’s never been able to fully grasp this concept, but somehow he senses it’s about to become a lot more tangible.

“We aren’t generally forbidden to use magic at home,” he continues reluctantly, when Dorcas nudges his side and motions for him to keep talking. “My parents— They allow it, but it’s not like my brother and I could do very much, could we? Without proper training and everything.”

“No, I suppose not,” Dorcas agrees, lighting a fire under their cauldron and looking very happy about the result. “But you have brewed potions before, so you for sure are ahead of me in this.”

Regulus drops a few horned slugs into the water before he answers, “Yes, easy potions, as I said. But they don’t require a lot of spellwork. You just need to have magic in you in general, and then use the right ingredients in the right amounts. Well, and maybe take the cauldron off the flame at the right time or reduce the heat when—”

He’s interrupted by her laughing. It’s bright and joyful, her eyes crinkle when she does it. Regulus also finds it to be a little contagious, because his lips pull up into a smile of their own accord.

“What?” he asks, trying – and failing – to convey some indignance about being laughed at.

“Oh, it’s nothing, absolutely nothing, Reg,” she’s grinning now, stirring their potion as she talks, “Just you stating casually how much experience you have, without even being aware of it, apparently. I think it’s funny. In a good way, though.” She says this with a twinkle in her eyes, and Regulus thinks she probably has a point.

He’s never thought anything of it, because he didn’t know any different, but he supposes that he might have some advantage over Muggle-born students or even just students with strict parents, like Dorcas. As strict as his own parents are in several aspects, they never cared too much about what he and Sirius did magic-wise. In fact, their tutor, Mister Roberts, didn’t only teach the siblings maths as well as how to read and write in both English and French, but he also taught them some simple spells. Regulus was used to it even before he knew there were regulations about those kinds of things.

However, Dorcas' reaction just now made him a little unsure whether he should admit openly that no one at his home is too bothered about complying with the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. He’s not even sure why his parents are so lenient in this matter. Maybe they’re simply not interested, but Regulus finds it more likely that they don’t believe in prohibiting wizarding children from learning magic from an early age, much like they don’t buy into the “forcing wizards into hiding agenda” that Dumbledore and his circles promote. Then again, maybe it’s just Dorcas’ parents who are so strict about underage magic; maybe his parents’ approach is more widespread after all? Regulus makes a mental note to ask Barty about it, maybe Evan, too.

For now, he decides to change the subject, but right when he’s about to do just that, Professor Slughorn passes by their table and inspects their progress quite enthusiastically.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or did you add the horned slugs before the water was boiling?” he asks, his prominent eyes widening as his gaze flicks between Regulus and Dorcas.

“Um…” Regulus begins slowly, an uneasy feeling spreading through his stomach, “Yes, Professor, I— I found that I get better results this way than if I wait until the water is boiling. I’m sorry if—”

“Well done, Mister Black, very well done indeed!” Slughorn interrupts him loudly, so that several heads turn in their direction. Regulus finds himself straightening up reflexively as relief sweeps through him. “Most people can brew a potion by recipe, young man. However, for a true potioneer to improve his skills and master the fine art that is potion making, it takes talent, keen powers of observation and a willingness to experiment. I am delighted that you seem to possess these important qualities. Ten points to Slytherin, Mister Black!” Slughorn exclaims rapturously, puffing out his massive belly before he moves on to Barty and Evan.

“So all it takes is using the right ingredients in the right amounts, is it?” Dorcas smirks at Regulus, who feels uncomfortably hot at Slughorn’s exuberant praise. Unwilling to let anything on, however, Regulus merely glares at Dorcas, but it’s without much heat.

“Evan tells me you’re not interested in Quidditch?” he crudely changes the subject instead, “How come?”

“Oh, I am too!” she corrects him, “I like watching the sport, but I don’t find visiting an empty Quidditch pitch overly exciting, and that’s what you lads were doing, wasn’t it?” Dorcas thankfully goes along with the new topic, even as she’s smiling amusedly, “I thought the greenhouses were more interesting.”

The greenhouses turn out to be very interesting indeed. It’s not so much the plants, though, nor the different kinds of fertilisers Professor Sprout tells them about in their first Herbology lesson on Wednesday. Regulus does appreciate the new things he learns, but even more fascinating is one particular new person he meets.

He’s in the process of sitting down on a stool next to Evan and opposite Barty and Dorcas, when a thin girl with waist-long blonde hair slides onto a stool on his other side.

“You have beautiful eyes,” she states bluntly.

Her voice is a little dreamy and even apart from this, she appears somewhat… unusual. Her many intricately crafted golden crystal necklaces, matching bracelets, and long, dangling earrings give her a rather esoteric air, in Regulus’ opinion.

“Er… thank you?” he answers slowly, unable to keep his eyebrows from flying up.

“You really do, you know, Reg?” Barty agrees with a smirk, “I never know if they’re more grey or more green. What do you think, Ev?”

“I think they’re striking either way,” Evan answers with a grin.

The blonde girl seems unperturbed by this banter. “You’re Regulus Black,” she says to him. It’s another statement, not a question.

“Yes… I know I am.”

He quickly casts his gaze around for help, but Dorcas has turned her attention to Professor Sprout, even though most people are still settling down and class hasn’t actually started yet. Barty and Evan are now immersed in a whispered conversation that Regulus catches only snippets of, like “dotty” and “chance”.

“My name is Pandora Delacroix,” the girl – Pandora – informs him, extending her hand, “I’m in Ravenclaw.”

Regulus already gathered this from her school robe, of course, so it’s something else that catches his attention.

“Oh, ‘Delacroix’ you say? Are you French?”

“No,” Pandora answers with a serene smile on her lips, “Well, my ancestors on my father’s side were, but they came to Britain a few hundred years ago. I feel more connected to Sweden than to France. My mother’s Swedish, she works with crystals.”

That explains the choice of jewellery.

“Do you mind me sitting here?” she continues, her pale-blue eyes briefly wandering over the other, occupied, three before landing on Regulus again, “I’m afraid I did not make a lot of friends in my own house yet. One, but he’s not in my year, sadly.”

“Oh, um—” Regulus frowns, unsure how to reply to this statement. His initial reaction is to feel embarrassed on her behalf, but this is quickly replaced by some kind of sadness. It’s not pity, because Pandora doesn’t strike him as someone who needs to be pitied. It’s just that Regulus himself only learned very recently what it’s like to find friends or people who might become such, and he feels bad for Pandora that she didn’t get to experience the same. Then again, maybe Pandora does have friends back home. What does he know?

She keeps looking at him with a questioning expression until he realises that he hasn’t properly answered her yet.

“Oh, shi— sorry, Pandora, of course you can sit here! By all means, please feel free to stay.” For good measure, he adds what he hopes to be an inviting smile.

“Thank you,” she smiles back happily, “You know, I don’t find you as intimidating as people claim you are.”

Barty, evidently done talking with Evan, snorts a laugh that he quickly tries to cover with a cough.

“I didn’t joke,” Pandora informs him, “A lot of people say that Regulus scares them.”

“They do?” Regulus asks, completely dumbfounded by this news, “But why?”

I think it's because you appear rather arrogant. I don’t get the feeling you are, but you do seem really self-confident. People often find that off-putting,” Pandora tells him calmly.

Regulus doesn’t know what to do with this information. Sirius is self-confident, sure. But he himself? Regulus? If you’d ask him, he’d tell you that most of the time, he doesn’t feel confident at all. He merely puts on a show so people will think he’s the well-bred offspring he was trained to be.

Oh.

Wait.

He wouldn’t tell you this, would he? That’s the point of putting on that show in the first place, isn’t it? Well, good to know his act is working.

“Ok, wait,” Evan says to Pandora, pulling Regulus from his revelation, “You say people call Regulus intimidating and are scared of him, and yet, you just walked over to him?” He looks mildly impressed.

“I like to form my own opinion about things and people,” Pandora shrugs, “An open mind is a gateway to knowledge.”

With that, she turns to face Professor Sprout, who just asked the class to be quiet. Regulus is left more intrigued by Pandora than he’d have thought possible after his first impression of her. Seems to prove her point, though, doesn’t it? Judging by their looks of awe and slight befuddlement, Barty and Evan are in the same boat as Regulus; Dorcas merely smiles at Pandora and whispers a friendly “welcome” to her before returning her focus to Sprout.

As it turns out, Pandora is not only open-minded but she’s not half bad at Herbology either, which transpires as soon as they all get to work on individual flower pots, filling them with dragon dung fertiliser. She babbles on about the herbs she grows in her parents’ garden back home and soon falls into conversation with Dorcas about the topic. While Pandora does utter some questionable remarks about magical plants and creatures Regulus has never heard of, her views are certainly entertaining and she appears anything but stupid. Regulus would rather describe her as “widely interested”, and this is a trait he can appreciate. He shares it, after all.

In Thursday’s Charms class, Regulus and Barty are the first to master the “Vingardium Leviosa” spell. This earns each of them five points for Slytherin from Professor Flitwick and also leaves them free to chat a bit among themselves while the rest of the class is still trying to get the incantation right. They keep it down to not disturb the others, but they’re conveniently sitting right next to each other, and the class is in general hubbub anyway.

“So, um… have you heard from your parents again, Reg? They’re happy you’re in Slytherin, right?” Barty asks while absent-mindedly twirling the feather he levitated before in his fingers.

“Yes, they’re happy about my house. I haven’t heard from them again, though. Not yet anyway. We don’t um… We don’t write that much.”

Regulus leaves it at this. It’s his first year at Hogwarts, so naturally, he doesn’t have much experience regarding how often people usually write home or receive post from their families. As far as he knows, communication with Sirius the previous year only happened occasionally; his parents solely sent word when they were dissatisfied in some way, and Sirius never bothered to use one of the school owls to write at all. He tried sending a letter to Regulus once, but their mother intercepted it. She burned it right before Regulus’ eyes, telling him that it was part of Sirius’ punishment for ending up in the wrong house and that Regulus was forbidden to contact his brother.

Despite all this, Regulus has noticed that a lot of students, especially the younger ones, seem to exchange letters with their families more often, even though it’s only the first week of school. He isn’t exactly sure why – he himself doesn’t feel a strong desire to write home – but he senses that it might come across as odd to ask the others about it. So he chooses to keep his answer to Barty brief, hoping it will sound as if not writing home all the time is completely normal. Which it is to Regulus, after all.

Barty doesn’t seem to notice anything unusual anyway. “But they let you use magic at home, yes? Your parents are laid-back about it? I didn’t mean to listen in or anything, but I overheard you and Dorcas talking about it in Potions the other day,” he says with an apologetic smile.

“No worries, it’s fine,” Regulus says immediately. He’s been meaning to ask Barty about this anyway, so it’s kind of handy that he has now brought the subject up. “I wouldn’t exactly call my parents ‘laid-back’ about anything. They’re frankly rather strict. But my brother and I…” He hesitates briefly, wondering whether talking too openly might cause his parents trouble. But since Barty already heard him talking about it, Regulus settles on, “We can use some magic at home. Um… I’m not sure how common that is, actually?”

“Oh, my father would never let me use magic! He’s very strict about rules and laws and such,” Barty replies wide-eyed, “My mum is much softer most of the time, but she doesn’t want to upset him, and she asked me not to use any magic at home, so I don’t.”

“Ok, but maybe that’s normal? Parents being strict about underage magic, or at least not allowing it? I wouldn’t know, it’s just always been like that with my parents,” Regulus admits.

“I mean, what is normal, at the end of the day? As I said, my father is strict, my mum usually isn’t. Is one of them more normal than the other?” Barty shrugs, “But I think it’s not that uncommon for wizarding children to use magic at home. Evan told me that his dad is quite tolerant of the matter, too. Ev’s not supposed to blab about it, but apparently, he’s free to use simple spells at home, like ‘aguamenti’ and the like.”

Regulus feels a little easier upon hearing this. “Ok, so Evan’s parents are more easy-going in general, do you think?”

“I’m not sure about that,” Barty frowns thoughtfully, “I think they expect good marks, but I reckon they’re more… supportive of Evan. Not like my dad.” The last sentence comes out a bit quieter than the rest, almost a little subdued.

Regulus doesn’t want to pry, but he can’t deny that he’s a little curious now, “How do you mean ‘more supportive’? How are Ev’s parents different from yours in that regard?”

“Well, I mean,” Barty begins slowly, “Evan said for example that his dad explains all about his work to him, he’s kind of a lobbyist for influential people, you know? And he teaches Evan about it too, asks his opinion and things like that. He takes Evan seriously if he comes up with ideas himself, and if the idea isn’t great, his dad will explain to him why and think of another way to make it work, together with him. My father… he’s different. He works a lot, but he rarely talks about it. He keeps telling me that the only important thing is for me to make sure I get good marks, but he’s not interested in what I think of… anything,” he finishes with a shrug.

“What about your mother?” Regulus asks with a frown, “You made it sound like she’s… more caring?”

“Oh, I reckon in a way she is, yeah. She frequently tells me she loves me and everything, but she’s kind of sickly, you know? She’s often tired and er… not in the best condition, physically. I was mainly raised by our house-elf, Winky.”

“Right, you’ve mentioned your elf.” Regulus frowns, thinking about what he just heard.

His mother never tells him that she loves him, at least not in so many words. He assumes she does, because, well, she’s his mother. And she always makes sure that he does well, that he knows how to behave and everything. That’s what mothers are supposed to do, isn’t it? Barty’s father, on the other hand, reminds Regulus of his own. He doesn’t work, exactly, because the Black Family has enough money, so he doesn’t have to go into an office or something every day. He does a bit of trading and manages their properties, though, meets with important people, and the like. But he never explains too much about it either, not in detail. And he’s certainly not interested in his sons’ ideas about anything. Children are supposed to be seen, not heard, after all.

For all the similarities between his and Barty’s father, Regulus wonders whether all parents are as severe as his own when it comes to punishments, but he doesn’t dare ask. His mother has drilled into him and Sirius that the Black Family’s affairs are a strictly private matter, to be handled with discretion. Being a Black means upholding a certain image, after all. In the end, Regulus figures that it’s probably similar to the use of underage magic. Parents are simply different, and some – like the Blacks – have a more traditional approach to parenting, while others are more what his mother would call “progressive”.

“Sorry about your mum,” he ultimately says to Barty, “That must be hard, her being sick.”

“Yeah, but it’s alright. As I said, Winky takes care of me,” Barty replies and then his face breaks into a smile, “And now I also have you and Evan, right?”

“Right,” Regulus agrees, finding himself smiling back.

Other than his and Barty’s spellwork success and their amiable talk, which Regulus feels brought them a little closer, Charms is also nice because the Slytherin first-years’ lesson is right after the Gryffindors’ second-years’. This means, of course, that Regulus inevitably bumps into Sirius every Tuesday and Thursday.

“Reggie, hi!” Sirius greets him happily when this happens the first time.

“Hey, Sirius! Why are you so out of breath?” Regulus frowns in response because his brother is panting and a little sweaty.

“It’s James’ fault,” Sirius laughs, clapping his best friend on the shoulder. “We’ve learned the Tarantallegra spell today and he overdid it a bit, didn’t you, mate?”

“I said I was sorry!” James replies, also laughing. “I had your brother dancing for… was it 20 minutes straight?” he explains to Regulus, who arches his eyebrows.

“Dancing might be a bit of an overstatement,” Remus smirks.

“Yeah, Sirius couldn’t stop his legs from moving and James was too busy laughing at him to perform the counter spell, so Professor Flitwick had to jump in, in the end,” Peter adds, snorting.

“Okaaay…” Regulus makes a mental note to be careful when they start with that spell next year. And to maybe learn the counter spell beforehand, to perform it on himself if necessary.

“We should spend time together soon, Reggie! Are you free this weekend?” Sirius grins, unbothered by his friends’ ridicule. He’s always been one who could laugh about himself; Regulus assumes people like that about his brother.

“Yes, I think we could meet on Saturday,” he answers, quite liking the idea of catching up with Sirius again.

“Sounds great! We can meet in the Great Hall and I’ll show you the way to our common room, how’s that?”

“Um… yes, alright, sure.” Regulus is a little nervous about visiting the Gryffindor common room, but he won’t be able to avoid it forever, and he does want to see how Sirius lives at school.

“Cool! I’ll see you on Saturday then!” Sirius looks truly happy about it, which makes the knot of nerves in Regulus’ stomach subside slightly. James, Remus and Peter add that they look forward to seeing Regulus as well, and then they leave together with the other Gryffindors while Regulus enters the Charms classroom.

Before the weekend rolls around, there are also Flying Classes on Regulus’ timetable. After looking forward to them, he can’t deny that he’s a little disappointed, because during the first lessons they’re only doing the very basic stuff in class, like how to pick up the broom using magic, how to sit on it properly and how to hover a bit above the ground but not too high. It makes sense, because especially among the Gryffindors in their shared flying class, there are a few people who’ve never sat on a broom before. Regulus doesn’t blame anyone for this, especially not when he realises that one or two of the presumably Muggle-borns are rather skilled with their brooms nonetheless; it’s just that he simply can’t wait to do some proper flying again.

A class that comes as a bit of a surprise is Defence Against the Dark Arts, because despite its name and focus, it’s darker than Regulus anticipated. His parents keep criticising Dumbledore for “turning the school into a sentimental institution, diluting the curriculum in subjects he considers too rigorous for present-day coddled children”. So, naturally, Regulus expects Professor Grimstone’s approach to be tame or even a bit wishy-washy. However, what the teacher, an austere man in his mid-fifties with already greying hair, tells the class in their very first lesson doesn’t sound wishy-washy at all.

“If you want to defend yourself against the Dark Arts, you need to know the Dark Arts,” he informs them in a gruff, almost threatening voice. “I will teach you everything you need to defend yourself, should the need ever arise. This class will focus on the darkest aspects of magic, on Werewolves, dark enchantments, Boggarts, and the Unforgivable Curses. Later, when you’ve done your OWLs, I’ll teach you about creatures like Dementors and Inferi. This class is not for wimps.”

Regulus raises his eyebrows at this announcement, but he reckons that there probably simply is no lacklustre approach to the Dark Arts. He finds himself to be rather intrigued by Professor Grimstone’s words, so he’s not complaining either. It’s not like Regulus has a particular love for the subject matter, but he likes being prepared, and dark magic is certainly no rarity in his family.

Overall, Regulus’ first week of school passes pleasantly enough, he mostly finds his classes interesting and challenging, but not overly difficult. Nevertheless, he notices that some teachers seem to regard him with particular interest. Apart from Professor Slughorn, where this was foreseeable in advance, also Professors Grimstone and McGonagall, for example. Regulus attributes the Transfiguration teacher’s interest mainly to the fact that he’s Sirius’ brother, while Professor McGonagall is Sirius’ head of house.

As to why fellow students approach him as well, however, Regulus is at a loss. Students from other houses repeatedly throw the odd “You’re Regulus Black” his way, and not in a friendly-interested manner like Pandora, but often rather disdainfully (mostly a few older Gryffindors) or in an intimidated tone (one or two scared-looking Hufflepuffs – yes, now that Pandora has told him, he notices it too).

One evening, Mulciber and Severus Snape walk up to Regulus as he’s reading a book in one of the leather armchairs by the fire in the Slytherin common room. Regulus has seen Snape before and has heard even more about him from Sirius, who calls him “Snivellus”. He’s in Sirius’ year and for reasons unknown to Regulus, his brother’s archenemy. Sirius never could explain it satisfactorily, so Regulus assumes it’s just one of these things. He’s also met people before whom he instantly disliked.

“Black. I’ve noticed that you spend an awful lot of time with Crouch junior,” Mulciber states harshly, “What is that all about?”

“What do you mean?” Regulus replies with a blank gaze, slowly looking up from his book, “He’s in my year and he’s my friend.”

“So you befriend blood traitors now, like your nitwit of a brother?” Snape asks, a mean smirk on his lips.

“Excuse me?” Regulus shoots back haughtily, “I do not think who I choose to spend my time with is any of your business, and we will please leave my brother out of this discussion.”

Who does Snape think he is, talking this way about Sirius?

Mulciber merely snorts in response, but Snape glares at Regulus and says, “Suit yourself, Black. But be aware that mingling with mudbloods and blood traitors doesn’t go over well in Slytherin. You might want to revisit the Sorting Hat to make sure you’re in the right house.”

This last remark hits Regulus particularly hard, and he briefly questions his own choice. But Snape doesn’t know about his conversation with the Sorting Hat, now, does he? Not letting anything show, Regulus merely asks in his most condescending, weary tone, “What in Salazar’s name are you even talking about?”

A spiteful sneer appears on Snape’s face. “Barty Crouch senior? Ever heard of him? Father of your new friend. He’s a known blood traitor. Famous for it, in fact. Completely brainwashed by the Dumbledore agenda.”

Regulus has to work hard not to groan out loud. Doesn’t that greasy-haired slime ball have anything else to occupy himself with? At least he understands Sirius’ hatred for the boy now.

“Well, I’m sure your father is an exemplary pure-blood,” Regulus smiles smugly, then adds with a thoughtful frown, “Oh, wait… why have I never met him at my parents’ social gatherings? I might need to confer with them about that. When I care enough, which will probably be never.” Dropping his charade into a stony expression, he turns back to his book and registers with some satisfaction that Mulciber pulls the grumbling Snape away, muttering something to him about his father as they go.

All in all, it’s not like Regulus hasn’t learned to deal with attention focused on his person, but getting it on his own, without his parents or brother present, is new. To deal with it, he simply acts as he usually does under such circumstances and carries himself with all the nobility and status awareness that has been instilled in him. If he scares other students with this or if they perceive him as arrogant, so be it. He much prefers spending his time with Barty, Evan and Dorcas anyway. In their company, Regulus feels free to relax a bit and take his facade down a notch.

And then, of course, there’s still his brother.

On his way to Sirius the next Saturday, Regulus unfortunately runs into Mr Filch, who’s mopping the staircase leading from the Dungeons to the Entrance Hall.

“You!” The caretaker screams, pointing an accusing finger at Regulus, “What are you up to? Did you leave this mess on the stairs, boy?”

“What? No, I just got here.” Regulus gapes at him, slightly startled.

So far, he’s only seen Filch briefly, during the welcome feast. Other than that, Regulus didn’t particularly care about the man, but is now finding him to be very unpleasant and distinctly un-respectworthy. He’s not even that old, as far as Regulus knows, up until a few years ago, the caretaker was a man named Appolion Pringle. Still, Filch somehow looks tired of life, a little like Madam Pince, who struck Regulus as rather stressed-out. Smirking, he thinks the two of them would make quite the couple.

“Don’t you smirk at me, boy!” Filch spats at once, “I know your number, you can’t fool me! You’re the brother of that Sirius Black, aren’t you?”

Lovely. Another person who recognises him because he’s a Black, or rather, Sirius Black’s brother. Fortunately, Filch doesn’t seem to expect an answer. He merely continues shouting about how he’ll be watching Regulus because of Sirius’ misdeeds. Unperturbed, Regulus keeps walking, shaking his head in mild annoyance.

Luckily, Sirius is already waiting for him, at the bottom of the Grand Staircase. This lights Regulus’ mood considerably.

“Hi, Reggie!” Sirius welcomes him in his usual fashion, with a bone-crushing hug. Regulus hugs him back a lot lighter. Then Sirius suggests taking advantage of the sunny weather by going for a walk outside instead of sitting in the Gryffindor common room, and Regulus gladly agrees, happy about the prospect of having his brother to himself.

“So? How are things? How have your classes been so far and, most importantly, how do you like my friends?” Sirius asks, once they’re out on the grounds, walking side by side. The fresh air is nice, but the floor is a little damp from yesterday’s rain. Despite the sun, Regulus is glad he chose to put on a thick jumper today.

“Your friends?” he smirks, suspecting that Sirius wanted to talk to him in private, because he didn't want to ask this question in front of said friends. “I like them for the most part, I guess,” Regulus says slowly, then pauses. He was about to say that James seems a little arrogant, but hasn’t he just learned that he himself comes across as arrogant too? Maybe he should wait a little longer before judging James. “Remus seems nice,” he says eventually, figuring that Remus is a safer topic than James, in this context.

“Oh, he is nice,” Sirius agrees, “And he likes you too. Pete and James do as well, mind you.”

“Hm,” Regulus merely gives a non-committal shrug, not letting show how pleasantly warm Sirius’ words make him feel.

“Tell me more about your friends!” Sirius urges him next, “Crouch junior and Evan Rosier? And that girl… Dorcas?”

“Well, what do you want to know?” Regulus shrugs again, “Evan is cool, I reckon he’s not the most outgoing person, but that’s rather suitable for me, isn’t it? He’s usually pleasant enough, always wants to make sure everyone feels included and things like that. Barty is way more outgoing. At first, I thought he was a bit tense, but that was only because he was nervous, I think. He’s really nice and he shares… things with me. Personal stuff, you know?”

Regulus hesitates briefly. It’s not his place to share any details about Barty’s personal life, but he still wants to make sure Sirius understands that Regulus might have something good going on here. And yes, Regulus also would be happy about some validation from his older brother. Sirius has more experience with friendships, after all.

“That’s great, Reggie,” Sirius replies, like he’s read his mind, “You can always come to me, of course, but I reckon it’s also good to have someone you can see more often and with whom you can share what’s on your mind.” He smiles and nods, indicating for Regulus to continue.

“Right. That’s kind of what I thought, too. And there’s also Dorcas, of course. She’s cool, really interesting. Her parents are very strict about underage magic, that surprised me a bit,” Regulus admits, waiting for how Sirius will respond to this revelation.

“Yeah, I realised that too, at some point, that other families… handle things differently than ours,” Sirius confirms, “Pete’s parents are quite strict as well, he’s not allowed to use any magic at home. James’ and Remus’ parents are a bit more relaxed, but I think they still make sure it doesn’t get out of hand.” He shrugs, then his lips spread into a grin as he puts his arm around Regulus’ shoulders, “So, Reggie, about that girlfriend of yours, Dorcas…” Sirius wriggles his eyebrows.

“Ha-ha.” Regulus rolls his eyes and jocularly pushes his cackling brother away. “Dorcas is not my girlfriend. She’s just a friend. I can be friends with a girl, can’t I? As a matter of fact, I also met another girl. She’s in Ravenclaw and she’s a bit funny, but in an oddly nice way. We have Herbology together.”

Now, Regulus wouldn’t call Pandora a friend yet, but he does want to prove a point. Unfortunately, his brother seems intent on teasing him.

“Aha! Well, well, well, my little brother, quite the ladies’ man, are you?”

Regulus merely heaves a sigh and keeps walking. “Her name’s Pandora Delacroix,” he says flatly.

Fortunately, this has Sirius calming down slightly. “Delacroix? Isn’t that a seer family or something? It rings a bell,” he muses with a frown.

“Could be,” Regulus concedes, “Would make sense. Her mother works with crystals, so I reckon she’s got kind of an esoteric thing going on.”

“Anyway,” Sirius says in a warm, more conciliatory tone, “I’m glad you made friends, Reg. Truly. I’m sure the girls are nice, and Crouch and Rosier sound great too. Better than Wilkes in any case. That’s your third dormmate, right?”

“Yes,” Regulus looks up in surprise, “Do you know him? He spends a lot of time with Argenteus Mulciber, because their parents know each other, apparently.”

“Ugh, Mulciber!” Sirius mimics vomiting onto the path they’re walking on, “Snivellus is part of his entourage, that should tell you everything you need to know. As for Wilkes, his father is a close acquaintance of our father. Apart from that, I don’t know much about him, but I think it already says plenty, if I’m honest. He’s not giving you a hard time, though, is he? Or Mulciber?”

“Nah, I’ve handled them. Snape was being an arse, the other day. Insulted me for being friends with Barty, because of his father, you know? Insulted you for befriending blood traitors. I told him he should go fuck himself,” Regulus finishes with a shrug.

“Regulus!” Sirius' eyes go wide as his jaw drops, “You said what?”

“No, I mean— Not in so many words, of course. I did kind of mock his father, though, if that counts?” Regulus smiles hesitantly.

Sirius releases an audible breath. “I was about to say! You had me clutching my pearls for a moment there, Reggie. Imagine Mother’s face if she heard such a filthy word out of her precious son’s mouth!” He barks a laugh while Regulus feels his cheeks getting a little warm. “Anyway, I’m proud of you for insulting Snape’s father. I’ve always said Snivellus is a prick.”

“Yes, and I get that now.”

They briefly lock eyes, sharing a knowing grin, and continue walking. After a few moments of further reminiscence about his first week of school, a question creeps into Regulus’ mind.

“Hey, Sirius?” he asks as they take the turn on the path that leads them back towards the castle.

“Hm?”

“When you started school, did you notice… I don’t know… that people treated you differently?”

Sirius furrows his brows as he looks at him, “How do you mean?”

“People… recognise me. I feel like teachers are looking at me— Well, not in a funny way exactly, but like they do a double-take when they hear my name, you know? Students as well. And I don’t think it’s only an I-know-your-brother sort of thing.”

“Ah, well, you are a Black, I’m afraid,” Sirius gives a half-shrug. “What did you expect?”

Regulus can’t deny that his brother’s got a point. What did he expect? The thing is, before he came to Hogwarts, Regulus’ thoughts had revolved around which house he would be Sorted into, his anticipation of properly spending time with Sirius again, and around learning new things outside his previous horizons. He’d never given much thought to the reality of actually being here. However, thinking about it now and considering Sirius’ reaction, he can only conclude that his surprise about people’s reaction is quite nonsensical.

“The teachers are alright, though, yes? They’re still fair to you,” Sirius asks, prompting Regulus to return to their conversation.

“Oh, yes, absolutely! I mean, it’s only the first week, so I don’t know how fair they’ll grade me, but so far, it’s just that they seem to know me, or rather, our family. Filch scolded me because I’m your brother, when I was on my way to meet you today. But he’s not a teacher, so I don’t think that matters much.”

“Naah,” Sirius waves his hand dismissively, “Filch doesn’t matter at all. He’s just a Squib anyway.”

Regulus eyebrows fly up at this statement. Besides curiosity, he doesn’t have any kind of feelings or opinions regarding Squibs, neither negative like his parents, nor overwhelmingly positive. He’s simply never met one. Sirius, however, has kind of developed a thing for minorities ever since he started school, so Regulus is surprised by his outburst of bluntness.

The surprise doesn’t last long, though, because Sirius quickly backtracks, “I mean— I didn’t mean it like that, obviously. I’ve got nothing against Squibs, you know Peter’s family is full of them. But… Filch is just an idiot in general. If he were a proper wizard, he’d still be an idiot.”

As he lets his brother’s words sink in, Regulus cannot help noticing once again that Sirius does have a bit of a conceited streak. Not for the first time, he thinks that this might be why Sirius and James get along so well. Speaking of James…

“Do you already know when the tryouts for the Gryffindor team will take place?” Regulus asks, reminded of the subject by his thoughts about the Gryffindow would-be chaser, “Will you try and get onto the team?”

As was to be expected, Sirius is completely on board with this change of subject. He loves talking about Quidditch and is probably grateful for Regulus moving on from the Squib topic.

“I don’t think I will. I’d like to be a Beater, but Gryffindor already has two excellent ones. I think one of them finishes school this year, though, so I’ll try to join the team next year. I can play together with James then,” he smiles excitedly.

“So you’re sure he’ll make it onto the team?”

“Oh yes, absolutely! James is an excellent flyer, you’ll see for yourself soon enough. Hey! Here’s an idea, why don’t you come and watch the Gryffindor tryouts together with me? Remus and Pete will be there too, it’ll be fun!” Sirius looks at him expectantly.

“Am I— Is that allowed?” Regulus asks slowly, “People from other houses watching, I mean.”

“Yeah, sure, students do it all the time! James, Peter and I watched all house tryouts last year, and Slytherins and Gryffindors watching each other’s tryouts is probably even the most common, given the houses’ rivalry.”

Regulus figures that even though he’s still undecided about James, it’ll be fun to watch a tryout if someone he knows participates. Besides, it can’t hurt to know your competition, right?

“Ok, sure, I’ll be there.”

Sirius looks delighted.

Chapter Text

Regulus is in pain. It’s not really his pain, though. It’s Sirius’. Sirius is screaming. Sirius is screaming and Regulus feels like he’s on fire. He’s burning up, every nerve in his body aching, hurting, suffering, twisting in on itself, as Sirius’ horrifying screams keep filling the air around them.

“Crucio!”

“Abomination!”

“Utter disappointment!”

“You are not my son! CRUCIO!”

Each terrible screech comes with a sharp lash of their mother’s wand. Each time, Sirius’ cries become more wrecked, more pleading, and, most terrifyingly, more silent.

“Nooo! Stop! Aaaah! ”

“Please, Mother!”

“Please!”

The last outcry is more of a wailing sob. Whether she’s satisfied with her punishment or whether she’s disgusted by Sirius’ tears, Regulus doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. He’s standing there, feeling paralysed, but as soon as their mother turns on the spot and leaves the room, he darts over to his brother. Walburga Black doesn’t even look back as Regulus kneels down next to Sirius.

“Sirius!” He gently places Sirius’ head in his lap, cradling it with trembling hands.

“Sirius?”

Sirius smiles weakly, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t respond at all. His eyes are closed, sweaty hair is sticking to his forehead. He looks so pale.

“Sirius!”

Regulus grabs his shoulders and shakes him. Carefully at first, then harder with every cry of his brother’s name.

“Sirius?”

“Sirius!”

“Sirius!”

He shakes and shakes and shakes.

Shouts and shouts and shouts.

Until he wakes up.

The world shifts and Regulus is the one being shaken.

“Regulus!” A voice whispers frantically. “Hey, Reg! Reggie?”

The shaking continues.

“Mate, wake— Oh, you’re awake, thank Merlin!” The shaking finally stops as Regulus’ eyes fly open, finding Barty’s. They’re wide with… fear? Shock? Worry? Slowly, the world comes into focus, and Regulus notices that he’s drenched in cold sweat. His face is wet with tears, and his heart is beating violently and far too quickly in his chest.

“Did I— Did I scream?” he whispers, breathing heavily as he slowly sits up.

Barty’s hands, that have until now been a comforting source of weight on Regulus’ shoulders, let go of him, and Barty eyes him with— Yes, that’s definitely some form of concern.

“No, you didn’t scream. I just heard you thrashing around like mad in your sheets and… Well, you started to… whimper, I guess. So I figured you were having a nightmare or something and came over here to check on you.”

“Okay.” Regulus’ pulse is still racing frantically, but he tries breathing deeply to calm himself. It doesn’t help that his forehead is feeling hot, now that humiliation washes over him. He whimpered ? And Barty heard. At least he didn’t scream. He’s learnt to keep quiet. Good to know that it works in his sleep as well.

“So the others…?” he trails off with a question in his voice.

“They’re still asleep. It’s all good, Reg. It’s just you and me. May I?” Barty slowly sits down on Regulus’ bed, and when he meets no objection, pulls the curtains shut around the two of them. “Do you— Would you like to talk?” he offers.

“I— It was a nightmare. My mother… My brother… She punished him for being Sorted into Gryffindor.” Regulus presses his lips tightly together. His breathing and heart rate slowly return to normal, but the ugly feeling of embarrassment remains.

This wasn’t his first nightmare, but it’s the first time someone else witnessed it. Someone who isn’t Sirius. Or his mother, that one time. He bloody whimpered! And he cried, evidently. Regulus feels extremely uncomfortable. Small. Only weaklings cry, and it was all just because of a silly dream! He hides his face behind his hands in shame, but that doesn’t stop Barty’s consoling voice from reaching his ears.

“It was just a dream, Reg. It’s okay, it happens,” he says softly.

“Right.” Regulus’ voice is muffled by his palms. He flinches when he feels Barty’s hand on his knee through the duvet and the fabric of his pyjamas.

The hand retracts at once. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s okay,” Regulus says quickly, lowering his hands again, “It was just a reflex. I—”

“It’s fine,” Barty says firmly, shaking his head. “I just— If you need a hug, let me know, okay?”

Regulus’ first instinct is to say “No, thank you”. He’s not Sirius. Then again, a hug from Sirius would be nice, right now. But his brother isn’t here, is he?

“Actually…” he trails off, ashamed to ask for what he wants. What he needs.

Miraculously, however, Barty understands. He leans in to put his arms around Regulus’ shoulders, pulling him closer into a gentle embrace. At first, Regulus is too mortified to relax into it, but Barty is warm and comforting, and he makes Regulus feel like he’s not being judged, not in the slightest. At this very moment, he’s a welcome shoulder to lean on, and to his own astonishment, Regulus slowly feels himself letting go. All humiliation and embarrassment gradually fade away as he hesitantly wraps his own arms around the other boy’s back.

“Better?” Barty asks quietly after a moment, arms still around Regulus, lightly squeezing him.

Regulus takes a deep breath, inhaling Barty’s scent of apple shampoo and cotton. It’s nice; it reminds him of the times he and Sirius shared hand-picked apples on a blanket in their garden in Scotland. They stopped after their mother found out and punished them by denying them supper that day. He pushes that last memory aside.

“Yes, thank you.”

When they let go of each other, Barty smiles at him, “Anytime.”

Feeling much calmer and collected again, a thought hits Regulus out of nowhere. “How come you’re awake?” he asks with a frown, “If I didn’t scream or anything.” Surely, the movements of his sheets won’t have been loud enough to wake Barty?

“I… couldn’t sleep,” Barty replies a little sheepishly, “Sometimes it just takes me a while to doze off. Or I can’t stay asleep.” He shrugs.

“Do you have nightmares too?” Regulus whispers tentatively.

“Sometimes. Not tonight, though.” Barty swallows. “I dream… about my mum getting worse, sometimes. Or about my father… berating me. Things like that.”

“Does he hurt you? In your dreams?” Regulus’ voice is barely audible at this point, but Barty hears him nevertheless.

He shakes his head. “Not physically, no.”

Regulus nods in understanding, and silence falls between them. Despite the situation and the topic of their nightmares, it’s the comfortable kind. Regulus is glad that Barty is here. He’s not happy to learn that he gets nightmares too, but it’s still consoling for Regulus to know that he is not the only one.

“Are you okay now?” Barty asks eventually, “Can I get you anything? A glass of water maybe?”

Regulus can’t help the tiny smile that spreads over his lips at Barty’s readiness to help. “No, I’m good. I have water.” He points towards the jug on his bedside table. “And I feel much better now. It was kind of you to check on me, though. Thank you.”

“As I said – anytime,” Barty replies sincerely, “I’m glad I could help.” He shifts to leave Regulus’ bed. “I’ll go back to my bed. Try and get some sleep after all. You better rest too, alright?”

“Okay.”

Barty pulls the curtains back and puts his feet on the floor to stand up.

“Barty?”

“Hm?”

Regulus isn’t sure what makes him say it, but he feels the urge to get this off his chest. “It wasn’t only a dream,” he admits in a low voice.

Barty looks at him, a solemn expression on his face. “Yeah, I figured.”

In the morning, neither Regulus nor Barty explicitly acknowledges what happened the previous night. However, from the way they act towards each other, the reassuring smiles, and the gazes they start sharing afterwards, Regulus senses that their conversation helped build a deeper mutual understanding between them.

The Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts take place later that day. It’s the end of the second week of term, and Regulus has mixed feelings about watching his house team’s competitors. The Slytherin tryouts already happened two days ago, but since there was only the need for one new Chaser and no prospective player with whom Regulus had a personal connection, the whole thing was more or less uneventful. Unfortunately, it showed him that the team not only needed a new Chaser, but rather someone with outstanding abilities at all.

Sirius, James and Peter hadn’t been able to watch the Slytherin tryouts because they were in detention (Merlin knows what for, this early in the term!), but Regulus bumped into them on his way back to the castle. They told him that he’d simply have to cheer on the Gryffindor team, which did nothing to lighten his mood. He spent the rest of the day being annoyed about having wasted his time outside in crappy weather instead of making better use of the day by staying inside, warm and dry, like Barty, Evan and Dorcas.

Luckily, at least the weather is better today. It’s overcast and grey, but dry and not as cold and windy as during the Slytherin tryouts. When Regulus reaches the Quidditch stands, he spots Sirius, Remus and Peter at once.

“Hello,” he greets them, sitting down between Sirius and Remus when the latter immediately scoots over to make room for him.

“Hi, Reggie! It’s cool of you to come,” Sirius replies a little absent-mindedly. He’s already focused on the pitch, where the Gryffindor captain is apparently giving instructions to the tryout participants.

“I have to keep track of the competition, don't I?” Regulus says with a shrug, not minding Sirius’ lack of interest in him right now. He prefers it over talking about Slytherin’s abysmal team.

“Mate, I don’t think we’ll be your competition this year,” Peter grins, not taking his eyes off the pitch either, “Slytherin will simply stand no chance against us, especially not with James on the t— oi!” He looks up indignantly at Sirius, who just elbowed him roughly in the side, “What in Godric’s name was that for?”

“Sorry,” Sirius replies casually, “Big brother protective instinct.”

At this, Regulus’ eyebrows fly up, but Remus is quick to inform him about the actual source of Sirius' behaviour, “Sirius is still a bit upset, because he blames Pete for the two of them and James getting caught and ending up in detention during the Slytherin tryouts.”

Regulus has always found it the best course of action to simply refuse any knowledge of his brother’s shenanigans, but he can’t hold back an obvious question: “Why weren’t you caught, Remus? Weren’t you in on whatever the other three were up to?”

“Oh, I was! But I’m smarter than them,” Remus smirks mischievously.

“Yeah, Remus is so smart,” Sirius confirms without any irony, eyes still glued to the Gryffindors on the pitch, who are now splitting into two groups. “I don’t know why he spends so much time studying!” he then adds, sounding like it would make much more sense for Remus to devote his time to misdeeds rather than mundane things like schoolwork – which Regulus suspects is what Sirius actually thinks, too.

“Yes, I see your point,” Regulus says to Remus, earning himself a nudge into his side from his brother.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sirius demands.

“Well, studying is smarter than— Oh, you know what? Nevermind. What’s Gryffindor’s team looking for? Only a new Chaser?” Regulus diverts from the subject, seeing no point in trying to convince Sirius of the benefits of studying.

“No, we need a new Keeper as well,” Peter answers the question, kneading his hands excitedly in his lap as the team below mounts their brooms and takes off into the air.

It quickly becomes clear that Regulus’ question and the corresponding answer were both unnecessary, because it’s obvious which position the first person is trying out for: The other players place themselves opposite the Keeper candidate, taking turns in aiming the Quaffle at the goal hoops.

“Is anyone else from your year trying out? Besides James?” Regulus inquires after watching the proceedings in the air for a few minutes.

“Yes, Marlene McKinnon,” Peter replies, “She wants to try out for Beater.”

Regulus looks at him in surprise, “Oh, do you need a new Beater as well, then?”

“No, but she can still try out, can’t she?” Peter shrugs.

“Her brother Daniel is already on the team as the other Beater,” Sirius adds, pointing at a tall and sturdy-looking boy, who, at that very moment, throws the Quaffle at one of the goal hoops for the Keeper candidate to block, “That’s him right there.”

“Interesting,” says Regulus, eyeing Daniel McKinnon, curious to see his sister. Beaters need to be strong to hit the Bludgers with the maximum amount of force, if necessary. McKinnon sure looks muscular, alright, but he’s not quite as broad and burly as the Slytherin Beaters Marcus Stripe and Anton Flint. Regulus has a hard time imagining that McKinnon’s first-year sister will be able to compete with her brother, let alone keep up with the Slytherin sixth-year and seventh-year Beaters.

Before the tryouts move on to the Beater position, however, Clara Wood becomes the new Keeper for Gryffindor. While the Gryffindor captain, who Regulus learns is called Frank Longbottom, discusses the result with the team and the unsuccessful Keeper participants, Peter and Sirius end up arguing with each other. They disagree on whether another tryout called Eli Zimmermann would’ve been the better choice (Regulus doesn’t think so, but wisely keeps quiet on the matter).

“How are you finding your classes so far?” Remus asks Regulus lightly, making use of the waiting time by starting a conversation.

Generally speaking, Regulus finds it exhausting when people constantly feel the need to talk and are uncomfortable with shared silence. Remus is different, though. He can endure the quiet, possibly even cherishes it the way Regulus does. So Regulus doesn’t mind chatting with him, because he knows Remus’ question comes from a place of genuine interest, and is not just meant to fill the silence.

“Oh, they’re good, thanks for asking,” he replies, “They’re not always easy, but I don’t have any issues with the coursework, either. In fact, I’m planning to find out how I can earn some extra credit with some teachers.”

“Swot,” comes Sirius’ casual remark, even while he’s still in the middle of his dispute with Peter.

Completely undeterred, Remus continues his conversation with Regulus. “You remember Lily, right?” he asks, simply ignoring Sirius, “We have a small study group, she and I, together with a few other students.”

“Oh?” Regulus utters blankly, not sure where Remus is going with this.

“Yeah, you could join us if you like. I mean, we’re mostly doing second-year stuff, obviously, but if there’s anything from your materials that you want to study in more depth, I’m sure no one would mind a little revision. We might also be able to help you get ahead on a few things.”

Regulus is surprised, but not unpleasantly so, by this offer. “Thank you, Remus, I think I’d like that. I wouldn’t want to hold you lot back, though.”

“Nah,” Remus waves a dismissive hand, “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’re at least as smart as Sirius, and if you, unlike him, are interested in studying, I don’t see how you could hold us back. On the contrary, I think you’d be a great addition to the group.”

“Well, in that case, let me know where and when.” Regulus smiles at him.

He’s not sure what he’s done to deserve such kindness from Remus, but he decides to take it. Having study partners can’t hurt, and if Regulus should ever have any difficulties with his subjects, it’ll certainly be helpful to have the support of older students.

“Terrific! We’ll probably start in early October,” Remus informs him, “I’ll get back to you as soon as we’ve found a date.”

“Marlene McKinnon is next! There she is!” Peter shouts excitedly, shifting Remus and Regulus’ attention back to the tryouts. He’s pointing at a girl who now takes off on her broomstick to join the other team members in the air.

Right, no, Regulus doesn’t see it. He feels his previous assumptions confirmed, because there is no way this thin and rather small girl can exert a similar force as—

Except she can. And she does.

Daniel McKinnon hits a Bludger at his sister, and she swings her bat with such surprising strength that the ball not only zooms back towards Daniel but, when he dodges it, whooshes straight into the stands opposite, smashing their wood into splinters. Apparently, it doesn’t even lose any of its momentum, although the distance the Bludger flies is easily 20 to 30 metres.

Regulus is impressed.

However, while Marlene’s force might be astonishing, her technique unfortunately needs some work. Frank Longbottom seems to feel the same way, because in the end, Daniel McKinnon and Charlie Sloper get confirmed in their positions as Beaters.

“Oh well, better luck next year,” Regulus comments with a shrug.

“Hey! I’ll be trying out for Beater next year! You want her to win over me?” Sirius asks indignantly.

Regulus suppresses a smirk, “I won’t say anything without legal counsel.”

“But I’m your brother!”

“Lads! It’s James’ turn!” Peter interrupts Regulus and Sirius’ argument before it can escalate.

“Wohoo! Go James!” Sirius shouts excitedly, which James acknowledges with a grin and a wave in their direction before turning his attention to his tryout.

As he watches him fly, Regulus quickly realises that James’ cockiness about his skills was very much justified. He really is an incredible flyer, pulling off various manoeuvres that Regulus knows take a lot of practice to perform as smoothly as James does. However, the most impressive part is that he makes them all seem completely effortless.

It’s exciting to witness several times in a row how James weaves his way through the other players, dodges all their attempts to steal the Quaffle from him, and ultimately throws the ball neatly through one of the goal hoops. Regulus is already looking forward to playing against him next year. Slytherin’s seeker, David Gamp, doesn’t have the right build anyway.

Two other hopefuls try out for Chaser as well, but neither comes even close to James’ abilities. Once the tryouts are over, Regulus and the others leave the stands but remain close to the pitch, waiting for James to join them.

“He was awesome! Wasn’t he, Remus? Reg?” Sirius says happily, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Yes, he was,” Remus says wearily but with a smile, “I’m glad he made it onto the team.”

“Are you sure you still want to play for Slytherin next year?” Peter asks Regulus with a grin. “You must be afraid to play against James, aren’t you?”

“Not even in the slightest,” answers Regulus lightly. There’s excitement, anticipation, keenness. Fear, however, is one emotion he does not feel at the thought of playing against James.

“But—”

“I did it, lads!” James interrupts Sirius with a war cry, running towards him, and they both end up in a weird hugging dance around each other.

“You did it!”

“I’m on the team!”

“You’re on the team!”

“Wohoo!

“Go James! ”

“He’s pretty excited for someone so sure he would make it onto the team,” Regulus remarks dryly, yet unable to keep the amusement out of his voice.

“Would you like to go back up to the castle with me?” Remus answers with an equally amused tone.

“No, no, don’t leave without us!” Sirius cuts in, evidently having jumped around with his best friend long enough.

“Well done, mate!” Peter now has the chance to tell James. “I’ll be your personal trainer and strategist!”

“Thanks, Pete! I look forward to working with you,” James winks at him.

“Well done,” Remus pats him on the shoulder, then James turns towards Regulus.

“Congratulations,” Regulus says earnestly, then frowns in confusion when James extends a hand to him.

“I look forward to watching your tryout next year! To good sportsmanship?” he asks with a friendly smile.

Regulus cannot help but smile back when he takes the hand to shake it. “To good sportsmanship”, he replies as warmth spreads through him, the anticipation of a worthy opponent, up in the air.

The group makes its way back up to the castle together, but Regulus parts ways with the others for supper. When he goes to bed later that night, it’s the memories of watching the tryouts with his brother, of Remus’ friendliness, and of witnessing the others’ joy that alleviate Regulus’ fear of bad dreams before he falls asleep. A bit of it is probably also the knowledge that Barty is there for him. He hopes Barty knows that, should he ever wake from a nightmare, Regulus will be there for him too. 

Chapter Text

After his first month at Hogwarts, Regulus navigates the castle quite confidently and effortlessly: Whether it’s the moving staircases or the occasionally vanishing steps, Peeves, or Filch – all these obstacles become easier to avoid with each passing day. Regulus does wonder why they exist at all (what purpose do vanishing stairs serve, apart from confusing people, and why does no one banish that poltergeist?), but he decides that there are more important things to focus on – first and foremost, his education, but also his friends.

Now that classes are in full swing, Regulus doesn’t find many opportunities to spend time with Sirius, but he’s happy to see Barty, Evan and Dorcas every day during classes, in the library and in the common room. Pandora also joins some of their studying sessions in the library, since the four Slytherins get closer to her as well, through their shared Herbology lessons. In fact, when she casually mentions during one Herbology class in late September that she should be lucky with planting the Bouncing Bulbs because it’s her birthday, Regulus and the others stop what they’re doing at once.

“It’s your birthday? Congratulations!” Dorcas says excitedly, pulling Pandora into a hug.

“Happy Birthday,” Regulus smiles as well, but it’s Barty and Evan who draw everyone’s attention to them.

“Listen up, everyone, it’s Pandora’s birthday today! How about a little song?” Barty shouts, all heads turning in his direction and then to Pandora.

Professor Sprout protests indignantly, “Mister Crouch, you cannot interrupt my lesson like this!”

“But Professor, just one song? It’ll be quick,” Evan says, giving her a very charming smile.

So far, the Herbology teacher has proven to be rather humane and kind, and this time is no different. “Oh, alright. Let’s all take a short break and sing a birthday song for Miss Delacroix,” she gives in with a smile.

When the class does as it’s told, Professor Sprout even joins in and playfully conducts everyone with her wand. Barty serenades Pandora the loudest and most enthusiastically, and even Regulus sings along, albeit much softer. However, he thinks it’s just loud enough for her to hear and that’s all that counts, right?

“Thank you all!” she smiles, as she happily claps her hands, once the song is over. "No one has ever sung ‘Happy Birthday’ for me before.”

Regulus’ heart twinges a little at this and he’d really like to hug her or something. He’s a little uncertain because he doesn’t want to give the impression that he feels anything but friendship towards her, but lucky for him, Barty and Evan hug her too, after the song, so Regulus simply joins the queue. Except for Sirius (and Barty, that one night), he’s never hugged anyone, though judging by Pandora’s still delighted expression, he doesn’t do too badly.

After the enjoyable experience of delighting Pandora, Regulus’ day takes somewhat of a turn later in the evening. He’s had no further nightmares requiring Barty’s help after that one in his second week. However, Regulus’ mother can evidently still pop up, even if not in person.

“How do you do, dear cousin of mine?” Narcissa asks, sitting down in the armchair opposite Regulus.

He’s been reading by the fire in the Slytherin common room, as he has developed a liking for doing whenever he finds the time. Now he slowly closes the book and places it in his lap, hands on top of it.

“Splendidly, thank you,” he answers, not bothering to keep the sardonic tone out of his voice. “How about you, Cissy?”

Regulus and Narcissa have always been on comparatively good terms. She knows that he doesn’t like being disturbed while reading, so the fact that she does it anyway is a bad sign.

“I’ve been in contact with your mother,” she states plainly. She appears calm and quite unbothered, like they’re simply making chit-chat over the weather.

“Oh?” Regulus tries to keep his voice and face neutral. He appreciates Narcissa’s straightforwardness, but he’s still a little wary as to what’ll come next.

“Yes, she kindly asked me to keep an eye on you for her.”

Of course she has.

“That’s lovely. And what did you observe with said eye?”

“Let me put it this way,” Narcissa says slowly, examining her perfectly manicured nails absent-mindedly, turning her hand this way and that in the greenish light of the common room, “Walburga wasn’t exactly amused when I told her that you and Sirius went to the Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts together.”

Regulus fights back a frustrated groan. He takes a deep, calming breath, making a conscious effort to keep his hands relaxed and not clench them into fists. “But I went to the Slytherin tryouts as well.”

Narcissa looks back up at him. “Sure. But not with your brother,” she says with a shrug.

“Only because he was in detention at the time.”

“I hardly think that’s the point,” she sighs.

Regulus can’t keep his eyes from narrowing slightly at this. “What is the point, then? And why would you tell her in the first place?”

Narcissa merely arches an eyebrow at him. “I know you’re smarter than this. It’s just how we operate. Always have, always will.”

Regulus doesn’t say anything. He looks down at his hands that are still placed on the book he was happily losing himself in, minutes ago. There’s a heavy feeling in his chest, spreading into his stomach and somehow even into his head, making it all woozy.

“You’re at Hogwarts now,” Narcissa tells him, her voice kinder than before. “Your mother has expectations and so does the rest of the family.”

Like he didn’t know that already.

You know what is expected of you.

“Including you?” he challenges, trying for a defiant glare, but the pointed look Narcissa gives him tells Regulus he’s failing. He is smarter than this and knows the answer already. “So essentially, I’m not supposed to spend time with Sirius, is that it?” he asks, the unpleasant heaviness settling deeper, making itself at home in his body – and mind.

“Oh, as far as I’m concerned, you can do what you want, Regulus,” she says lightly, “But I know you’re not stupid. You know what is expected of you.”

He frowns at her as she uses the exact same words his mother said to him at King’s Cross Station. Regulus had been pleased to note that the murmurs of “You’re Regulus Black” and the like slowly died down after the first two or three weeks of school. However, he’s very much aware that he’s still a Black. He never forgot, he just… blocked it out for a little while. Enjoyed the time with his new friends instead. Enjoyed his newfound freedom.

“Look,” Narcissa continues, pulling Regulus from his thoughts, “I’ve already withheld certain information from your mother about how much time you and Sirius really spend in each other’s company. But the Gryffindor tryouts were quite a talking point in Slytherin. It would’ve gotten around to her anyway.”

Regulus furrows his brow at this. “They were? I mean, the Gryffindor tryouts were such a huge thing in Slytherin?”

He’s genuinely surprised by this piece of information. Obviously, Regulus knows about the houses’ rivalry, but if the Gryffindor tryouts were that big of a deal, why weren’t there more Slytherins to watch them? He only saw a handful of people from his own house when he went there.

“Well, you being there, and with Sirius at that, certainly was,” Narcissa explains.

Great. So that's what Regulus gets for choosing blissful ignorance over engaging in gossip. While he was happily spending his time reading or being with his friends, other people apparently had nothing better to do than talk about him. Undoubtedly, unpleasant people like Mulciber, Avery, Wilkes and the like. Or Rabastan Lestrange, come to think of it.

“Cissy!” Rabastan says, walking up to her.

He’s in her year, and Regulus knows him because his brother Rudolphus is in a relationship with Narcissa’s sister Bellatrix.

“Do you fancy—” Rabastan’s gaze briefly flickers over to Regulus, then back to Narcissa, “joining me, Anton and Cecille… at the greenhouses?”

“Yes, why not?” Narcissa replies casually, standing up. Then she addresses Regulus once more, “Think about what I just told you. It’s up to you to make your own life easier.”

“Right,” he replies before she turns to leave with Lestrange.

Regulus feels torn. He sometimes wishes that being a Black wasn’t all about the public image and fulfilling other people’s expectations. On the other hand, it does have its merits, as his parents continuously remind him: Regulus never, not one day in his life, had to worry about a roof over his head, clothes to wear or about being fed. Of course, food was withheld from him every so often, but that happened only because he had misbehaved. Either way, he sometimes wishes his mother weren’t so difficult to handle. He always has to be cautious around her and pay close attention to what he’s doing, how he’s acting. But he knows she only wants the best for him, because she’s told him so repeatedly. So is it fair of him to feel this way? Probably not.

Instead of dwelling on these conflicting thoughts, Regulus opts for distracting himself. He figures that going to Remus and Lily Evans’ study group will be alright, since Sirius won't be there, and he can justify it to his parents as prioritising his education. If they were to forbid him from participating in the group anyway, he can always just stop going.

Before the study group starts in early October, however, Regulus finds other means of distraction: First and foremost, there are his lessons, of course. He keeps up with his schoolwork, succeeds in winning over his other teachers besides Slughorn with his good performance (combined with the fact that Regulus is completely unlike Sirius when it comes to playing the class clown) and even manages to establish a courteous arrangement with Madam Pince. The librarian accepts his existence and overall refrains from bothering him, which, of course, proves to be extremely useful whenever Regulus studies in the library with Barty, Evan, Dorcas and Pandora.

Barty is another fantastic diversion. Undeniably, he’s much more than that by now, but either way, Regulus is happy they’re allowed to use the training grounds one late afternoon. In their Flying class, everyone has now mastered summoning and mounting their broom, as well as taking off and landing. Regulus still finds all this rather lame, so he successfully convinced Madam Hooch to let him and Barty borrow school brooms for a bit of flying after lessons.

“You sure you don’t want to come?” Regulus asks Evan in the common room just before leaving for the training grounds; Barty is already waiting for him by the door.

“Nah, Dorcas and I still need to finish that Defence essay,” Evan replies from his chair at one of the tables, several books and parchment spread out in front of him, “She’ll join me in a minute. Next time, though, okay?”

“Alright, suit yourself.”

So far, it appears that Regulus and Barty are the best in their year, at least judging by the performance of those students they have classes with. Evan and Dorcas are not at all stupid, of course. They just need a tad more time for most assignments and tasks. To Regulus and Barty, it all seems to come quite naturally – Regulus might be a bit like Sirius in that regard, even though he’d never share this impression with him. Sirius’ head is already big enough.

“I can check your essay afterwards, if you like,” Regulus offers, rearranging the protectors he’s holding under his arm.

First-years might not be allowed to have their own broomsticks, but he felt the need to at least bring his own Quidditch gear. It’s a bit much for some simple flying, but he wants the experience to be as close to real Quidditch as possible.

“That would be lovely,” Evan replies with a grateful smile, “I’ll see you later!”

Regulus bids him goodbye and joins Barty by the door. Together, they walk to the training grounds and get two of the school broomsticks out of the storeroom.

“What broom did you say you have at home?” Barty asks as he takes the one Regulus holds out to him.

Like most of the school brooms, it looks a little worse for wear, with the wood of its handle chipped in some places and quite a few bent twigs at its tail. However, compared to the other available brooms, it appears rather well-maintained.

“A Comet 200,” Regulus answers absent-mindedly, browsing the other brooms in the storage for another somewhat decent one.

“Cool,” Barty says approvingly, “Does it already have the Horton-Keitch breaking charm?”

“No, that’s the 210. Sirius got one when he received his Hogwarts letter.” Regulus has found a broomstick he deems acceptable and takes it out of the storage to mount it after putting on the protectors.

“Did you get a new broom too, when you got your letter?” Barty asks with a frown, also getting on his broom and hovering in the air next to Regulus.

“I didn’t. I reckon my parents thought it would motivate my brother to be a better son or something. Get into the right house.”

Barty’s frown deepens at this. “Your parents are weird.”

Regulus doesn’t respond as he briefly thinks back to his recent nightmare and to what he told Barty that night.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Barty says quickly, evidently taking Regulus’ silence as some form of sulking, “I don’t understand why they would get Sirius something for receiving his letter, but not you. But I don’t have siblings, so I’m not one to talk, am I?”

“It’s fine, Barty,” Regulus assures him. He’s not sulky, nor has he taken offence. He briefly wondered whether Sirius’ reward was objectively weird or wrong in some sense. But that’s exactly the kind of confusing thoughts Regulus wants to distract himself from, so he decides to leave it at that. As Barty already pointed out, he doesn’t have any siblings. What is more, he probably couldn’t comprehend the whole concept of the heir and the spare and all that comes with it. The Crouch family doesn’t work that way.

“Let’s just fly a bit, alright?” Regulus suggests, so that’s what they do.

The school broom Regulus uses has nothing on his beloved Comet 200 back home, but at least he’s flying, so he won’t complain. He and Barty spend some time throwing an old Quaffle from the storage to each other, and Regulus even does a few manoeuvres and dives that Barty tells him he wouldn’t dare attempt himself (and that Madam Hooch would probably not approve of). When it gets too dark to fly and they put the brooms back into the storeroom, Regulus feels lighter and pleasantly tired out at the same time.

On their way back to the castle, they run into James Potter, who’s carrying a Cleansweep 4 under his arm.

“Oh, hello there!” he greets mainly Regulus happily, nevertheless smiling at Barty as well. “Did you just fly?” he then asks with a curious glance at Regulus’ protectors that he’s now carrying under his arm again.

“Yes, Madam Hooch allowed us to use the training grounds after classes today,” Regulus answers.

“I see,” James says slowly, “We could do some flying together, next time. I’m sure Sirius would lend you his broomstick, so you wouldn't have to use one of the school brooms. I reckon we could also use the Quidditch pitch, since I’m on the team now.” His gaze wanders over to Barty. “You’re welcome to join as well, of course.”

“Thank you, I’m good,” Barty replies politely.

“Yes, thank you, James. We’ll see, okay?” says Regulus hesitantly.

James’ offer certainly is kind, and Sirius probably would indeed lend him his broom, yet somehow Regulus feels that flying with his brother’s best friend is a whole different thing than going to a study group with one of Sirius’ other friends.

“We need to get going now. Say hi to Sirius from me, will you?” Regulus forces himself to smile at James, not letting his doubts show too much.

“Oh, sure! Will do, I just need to take this back to the storage shed by the Quidditch pitch first,” he answers, motioning at his broomstick and eyeing it with a fond smile. “Took it up to the castle for some polishing.”

Regulus can’t hold back a small, genuine smile of his own. He understands James’ sentiment for what, to the inexpert eye, might just be a wooden stick with some twigs. He himself is just as attached to his own broomstick.

“You do that, I’ll see you around, James,” he says, then leaves the Entrance Hall for the Dungeons together with Barty.

Regulus goes to Remus and Lily Evan’s study group on the first weekend of October. He had wondered whether it would actually take place, because Remus looked rather ill the week before. However, Remus confirmed the meeting, so Regulus is here now, opening the door to the library. He spots the group of six immediately, gathered around a table, and walks over to them.

“Hello, I’m not late, am I?” he says to Remus by way of a greeting.

“No, not at all, you’re right on time,” Remus replies with a welcoming smile and motions for Regulus to sit down next to him. “Everyone, this is Regulus Black. Regulus, these are Lily’s dormmate Emmeline Vance, Ian Bones and Sarah Wenlock from Hufflepuff, and Stephen Williams from Ravenclaw,” Remus explains, gesturing to each person in turn as he goes through their names.

“Hello, everyone.” Regulus feels slightly awkward, being the only first-year and Slytherin, but then again, Stephen Williams is the only Ravenclaw, so they at least have that particular odd-one-out trait in common. “Thank you for letting me join you. I greatly appreciate it.”

“We’re glad to have you, Regulus,” Lily answers, a kind smile on her face. “Let me tell you how we usually do this, alright? We all bring the topics we need to discuss, get help with, or have checked for mistakes, and if someone can help, they do. The others may contribute as well, of course. Any questions on the process?”

“No, seems pretty straightforward to me.”

As it transpires, it’s Sarah Wenlock’s first visit to the study group too, but she doesn’t have any questions either. The others all joined some time during the last year, as Emmeline Vance informs Regulus.

“Alright, who would like to begin?” Lily asks the group.

Ian Bones is the first to present his topic, “I need help with Transfiguration. I can turn my beetle into a button, but then the button keeps crawling away. I’m not sure whether I’m getting the spell wrong or—”

“I can help you with that,” Stephen Williams offers at once, “Most of the time it’s a combination of sloppy spellwork and a lack of concentration, I think.”

Emmeline needs someone to read her Charms essay on engorgement spells, and Lily offers to help her when Remus cuts in.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you to check my Potions homework, Lily. Maybe you can do it after?” he asks, a slightly desperate tone in his voice.

“What is it about?” Regulus asks. “What potion or type of potion?”

“Oh, um…” Remus turns to look at him, “Fire Protection Potions. Do you know anything about those?”

“I grew up with Sirius,” Regulus deadpans. “Let me have a look.”

“Lovely, you check on Remus’ homework, then. I can skim through it as well, when Emmeline and I are done,” Lily says approvingly, getting to work on Emmeline’s Charms essay.

Remus seems surprised but pleased by Regulus’ unexpected offer, so he slides the parchment over to him.

“This is what I’ve got so far. I must warn you, though, I really suck at Potions.”

Regulus merely waves a dismissive hand and starts to read Remus’ homework. As it turns out, Remus does suck at Potions, but it also becomes clear that Regulus can work very well with him. He crosses passages out, writing his own comments down instead and frowning occasionally, to which Remus grimaces in what Regulus interprets as embarrassment. All in all, everything goes smoothly, however, and Regulus enjoys working alongside the others. He even overhears a few interesting snippets from the different conversations – on topics he wants to research later.

“How come you already know so much about second-year Potions?” Remus asks at some point, clearly impressed.

Regulus shrugs as he looks at him, putting down his quill. “I’ve always liked to read. About everything, really, and also about all kinds of magic. I never tried really complicated stuff, but brewing simple potions seemed easy enough, so I started to give it a go… I think about two years ago?”

“Blimey! I mean, I know Sirius knew a lot of magic already when he came to Hogwarts, but I think he’s never been one for Potions, has he?” A fond smile tugs at Remus’ lips at the mention of his friend.

“No, he most certainly hasn’t,” Regulus laughs. “But you’re allowed to use magic at home too, aren’t you? Sirius told me.”

“Hm, well, my parents don’t scold me when I do it, but it’s not like my dad ever taught me anything, either. He always worked a lot, still does. And you already know that my mum is a Muggle. So most of the stuff I knew before I came here, I’d just picked up from my dad. You and Sirius had proper training, though, didn’t you?”

“Yes, a bit. Listen, I need to read something up on two ingredients. I’ll be right back, okay?” Regulus stands to find an Herbology book, wanting to confirm the best moon phase for harvesting the bursting mushrooms and thistle leaves for Fire Protection Potions.

He enjoys chatting with Remus about Sirius, but he’s not in much of a mood to talk about his private tutor, sensing that certain aspects of his upbringing might come across as overly posh. It’s probably stupid, because everybody knows his family, and Remus certainly knows Sirius very well, but still. Regulus has gathered from the odd overheard conversation between other students, as well as from Dorcas and Pandora, that things like private tutors, family estates or even house-elves are considered rather fancy by people outside his usual social circles. He wouldn’t want to be tarred with the same brush as Mulciber, Wilkes or other people like that.

When Regulus returns to the table, Herbology book in hand, Remus and Lily are talking about who appears to be Lily’s sister.

“Petunia was awful about it all summer. I mean, growing herbs is nothing out of the ordinary, but she suspected I’d use it to concoct something awful,” Lily is saying as Regulus sits down on his chair and opens the book to find the page he’s looking for.

“What did your parents have to say about it?” Remus asks her, his voice compassionate.

“I didn’t want to bring them into it. You know that Petunia always goes on about how I’m their favourite child, which is total bullshit, obviously. Still, I didn’t want to upset her even more by involving our parents, you know?”

Regulus looks up at Lily, “Petunia is your sister? Does she go to Hogwarts too?” he asks, propping the book open on the right page.

“Oh! No,” Lily chuckles, “I’m the only witch in my family. Which is why my sister thinks I’m our parents’ favourite. She can’t deal with them being proud of me. But they’re just as proud of her for getting good marks and for being really talented at sewing and everything, you know?”

“Oh, sure.” Regulus is a bit confused because he doesn’t know what sewing is, but he goes along with it. Must be a Muggle thing. He didn’t know Lily was Muggle-born; that’s even more interesting than Remus being a half-blood.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this. We’re here to study, not to talk about my sister’s sensitivities,” Lily says, shaking her head slightly as if to clear it.

“No, it’s fine,” Regulus is quick to tell her, “I have a sibling too, remember?”

“Right.” Lily doesn’t seem overly pleased by the thought of Sirius, but she quickly puts on a friendly expression again. “I’m the younger sibling too, I guess we have that in common, huh?”

“I reckon we have,” Regulus agrees. “So you’re Muggle-born? No other relations to witches or wizards?”

“He’s just curious,” Remus interjects.

“Oh! Yes, obviously!” Regulus says immediately, startled by the thought that he should’ve made this clear. “I just— I don’t meet a lot of Muggle-borns,” he adds, feeling his face getting hot.

“It’s alright.” Lily is full-on smiling again. “But no. No other connections to wizarding families. I mean, apart from Severus. But we’re not related or anything.”

Regulus’ eyebrows shoot up of their own accord. “Severus Snape?”

“Yes, we’re… childhood friends, I guess you could say,” Lily informs him with a shrug.

“Why?” Regulus blurts out before he can stop himself.

Lily raises her eyebrows, the smile replaced by a cool expression. “Well, he lives not far from us, so we met eventually, and when I showed Petunia some magic, he told me I was a witch. Told me quite a bit about Hogwarts, the wizarding world and everything.”

“But—”

“You mean to say she’s Muggle-born and he’s Severus Snape?” Remus asks helpfully, an amused smirk pulling at his lips.

“Well… yes? Kind of?” Regulus grimaces, still trying to wrap his head around all this. Lily is clearly anything but pleased with the turn of this conversation.

“Listen, Regulus, I’ve had this discussion with your brother and his friends,” she throws Remus a pointed look, “... multiple times. And I’d be grateful if you wouldn’t team up with them. I know that Sev’s a nice person and that’s good enough for me.”

Regulus severely doubts that Snape’s a nice person, and he’s fairly sure Lily would too, if she heard the way he talks about Muggle-borns and half-bloods in the Slytherin common room. But. He’s not here to discuss Severus Snape, is he?

“Of course. I’m sorry. I won’t bring him up again,” he therefore concedes.

“Ah, well, it’s okay. You didn’t bring him up, after all, I did. But I appreciate your understanding,” she replies, accepting the olive branch. “I don’t mean to offend you, but you know your brother and I aren’t exactly close.”

Remus snorts at this, quickly covering it up with a fake cough that fools no one. Regulus has to bite back a grin.

“But I still like Remus,” Lily continues pointedly, “Even though he’s friends with Sirius. If you leave me alone about Severus, I might develop a liking for you as well at some point, Regulus. Sometimes people are friends with people you don’t like, but you don’t have to understand it. You just need to accept it, right?”

“Right,” Regulus agrees, effectively restoring the peace between them.

He’s not sure how important it is to him whether Lily likes him or not, but it would surely complicate matters within the study group if she didn’t. And, after all, it’s none of his business who she’s friends with.

Regulus goes back to finishing his revision of Remus’ Potions homework, and when he’s done, Lily has no objections or additions to make. All in all, he considers his first study group meeting a success.

Chapter Text

Crush dried Beetle Eyes into a fine powder and mix with the pulverised Venomous Tentacular seeds.

Regulus diligently follows the instructions in Magical Drafts and Potions, while Dorcas keeps stirring the half-done draught in their shared cauldron.

They've gotten into the habit that, whenever they’re required to work in pairs, Regulus partners with Dorcas, and Barty with Evan. Sometimes they switch it up and Regulus works with Evan, but either way, all four agree that it makes sense for the two better students to support the two slightly slower ones. This way, they all achieve quick and excellent results that have Slughorn raving about their skills. The teacher still never misses an opportunity to express his enthusiasm for especially Regulus’ abilities, which his friends find completely justified, for there’s no doubt that Regulus is the best of them in Potions. Barty’s and Dorcas’ strength lies in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Evan is hard to beat when it comes to Transfiguration.

In this Potions lesson, Regulus and Dorcas are working together once again, amicably making conversation on the side.

“You really have a knack for that sort of thing,” Dorcas tells him when the mixture he’s blended incorporates perfectly into the solution she’s stirring. “I guess it’s in your genes, huh?”

There’s a playful smile on her lips and a twinkle in her eyes as she says this, but Regulus doesn’t want to think about his genetics too much. He’s studied the Black family tapestry more often than was good for him.

“I don’t know about that…” He clears his throat, feeling uncomfortably warm, all of a sudden. “What’s next?” he asks, going back to consulting his Potions book. “Stir twelve times clockwise and two times counter-clockwise until the potion turns a light shade of green, approximately ten minutes,” he reads aloud.

Dorcas nods and does as instructed while Regulus keeps an eye on the progress.

“I was just kidding, you know?” she says to him while she continues stirring, “About your genes, I mean. I don't know much about your family, to be honest, except that you're something like wizarding royalty.” She briefly looks up, gauging his reaction.

“I think you should stir a bit more slowly,” he informs her, eyes on the cauldron. With a nod, she follows his suggestion.

“I don’t mean to offend you or anything, it’s just that my parents never cared much about… society or high society or whatever. They came to England to make a better life for themselves, and they did. They always tell me to treat everyone with kindness, no matter their background.” Dorcas falls silent as she keeps stirring, evidently waiting for Regulus to answer in any way.

“I’m not offended,” is what he starts with. “Really. I think approaching everyone impartially with kindness is a great goal.”

A smile pulls at his lips as he thinks of Pandora, who seems to have a similar mindset. He couldn’t explain why, because he certainly wasn’t raised that way, but Regulus likes the thought of giving everyone the benefit of the doubt until proven otherwise. He’s tried it with Sirius’ friends too, and while his main motivation for this was, of course, his brother (and his own inexplicable interest in half-bloods, squibs and everything he doesn’t know much about), he’s found that it turned out to be an overall beneficial course of action.

“And maybe you’re even right,” he ultimately admits. “In the sense that my family is certainly old and has strong magic, I mean. But I don’t think it has anything to do with being wizarding royalty, because there’s no such thing.”

His parents have taught him that being a Black means being special and better than everyone else. Yet, Regulus’ point stands – even if there were something like true wizarding royalty, Barty’s family probably wouldn’t be part of it, and yet, he’s already proven to be a more than able wizard. The Pettigrews certainly aren’t what’s considered high society either, but Peter is here, at Hogwarts, a wizard like any other, squibs in his family or not. And Remus? He’s a half-blood, but he leads a bloody study group, and together with a Muggle-born at that!

“Okay, Regulus,” Dorcas concedes, although she doesn’t seem wholly convinced.

Neither of them has time to pursue the matter further, though, because Professor Slughorn stops at their table at this moment.

“Mister Black!” He smiles broadly at Regulus before inclining his head to Dorcas, “And Miss Meadowes, of course.” After a brief glance into their Cauldron, he exclaims, “Ah, doing splendidly, as I expected!”

Folding his hands over his belly, he then says to Regulus in an almost conspiratorial voice, “Mister Black, I would be ever so pleased if you cared to join me and a select circle of other promising students for supper in my office. I hope you’re free on Saturday, the 21st of October?”

“Oh, um…” Regulus isn’t exactly surprised by the invitation itself, but the timing of it is a bit out of the blue. “I think I am free that day, yes. Thank you, Professor, I’ll be glad to come.”

Slughorn claps his hands together in a satisfied manner, like he just received some long-awaited positive news. “Wonderful! I look forward to having you, Mister Black! Now, Mister Crouch…”

“There’s no such thing, huh?” mutters Dorcas under her breath while she keeps stirring in their cauldron, a grin on her face.

“Well, there are no wizarding Queens or Princes,” Regulus grumbles, fully aware of the irony that his first name literally translates to little king. He decides to ignore this and follows Slughorn and Barty’s ensuing exchange instead.

“Your abilities are second only to those of Mister Black here,” Slughorn tells Barty indulgently, “So I would be more than happy to welcome you as well. And Mister Rosier, if you’d also do me the honour? How is your father doing, by the way? I was ever so pleased to hear that he had a hand in pushing through the new inheritance and estate reform at the Ministry of Magic! I’d like to hear what’s next on his agenda. I hope you will tell me all about it on the 21st?”

“Oh, certainly, thank you, Professor,” Evan answers. He’s smiling in what might be considered a polite way, but Regulus knows him well enough by now to see that Evan is barely holding back a snort and an eyeroll.

Slughorn doesn’t seem to notice. “Marvellous!” he says with another pleased clap of his hands. “And you, Mister Crouch? Do you need more time to have a look at your schedule, or can I count on you as well?”

“Oh, no, I’ll be there too, Professor. Thank you for the invitation!” Barty replies, in an equally amused way as Evan, that, again, only Regulus seems to notice. “What attire is expected, Sir?” Barty adds courteously.

“Ah, nothing formal, it’s just a simple gathering. Although the company will of course be everything but.” Slughorn flashes Barty another broad smile before he moves on to the next table.

“So you’ll both go as well?” Regulus asks his two friends in a low voice. He’s heard their answers, but he wants to make sure he won’t be going alone.

“Sure, why not?” Evan shrugs. “Can’t hurt to check it out, can it?”

“If you two go, I’ll go,” Barty agrees with a smile, “Besides, I’m sure the food’ll be great!”

There may not be an official dress code, yet Regulus makes sure to look decent when he follows Slughorn’s invitation together with Barty and Evan, wearing black plain but premium robes and silver emerald cufflinks. He’s certainly not overdressed, because Professor Slughorn welcomes the three of them at his office door as exuberantly and tastelessly but high-quality dressed as usual.

“Ah, Mister Black, Mister Crouch and Mister Rosier! Welcome to the Slug Club, as I like to call these little gatherings!” the Potions Master greets them jovially. “Please come in and make yourself at home in my humble abode.”

His office is surprisingly cosy. Regulus hasn’t seen any teacher’s office yet, but he expected something rather functional – a desk, seating options for the teacher and possibly for guests in meetings, and, especially in a Potions Master’s office, cupboards with a private stock of ingredients. However, at least in this case, Regulus’ expectations are quite wrong. There is a desk, but it’s placed discreetly at the side, the more prominent piece of furniture being a large round table with several cushioned chairs around it. The table top is filled with a wide selection of piled-up food, no doubt courtesy of the Hogwarts house-elves. There’s also one medium-sized bookcase with Potions books, but ingredients are nowhere to be seen – apparently, the teacher keeps his private stock elsewhere. There are, however, several shelves with pictures of Slughorn with various famous witches and wizards, and even a Quaffle with a signature on it (even though Regulus can’t decipher whose it is). Next to a crackling fireplace, Regulus notices a comfortable-looking sofa set with a couch and two matching armchairs as well as several large pouffes.

He wonders briefly whether all teachers’ offices are as comparatively large as Slughorn’s or whether he’s put an extension charm on it for the occasion. However, the already present guests Regulus discovers upon entering take his mind off this particular thought: Lily Evans is deeply engaged in conversation with an older girl Regulus doesn’t know, but who he’s seen in Gryffindor robes before. Narcissa, unsurprisingly, is also there and talking with none other than Rabastan Lestrange. Severus Snape is sitting next to them with his trademark surly face – no surprise here either. There are a couple of other students Regulus has never noticed before, but he assumes Slughorn will introduce everyone at some point.

Two chairs will remain empty, even if Barty, Evan and Regulus sit down, so he suspects they’re not the last guests to arrive. Right on cue, a very familiar voice confirms this assumption.

“Good evening, Professor Slughorn!”

“Mister Black, how lovely of you to join us this fine evening! And Mister Potter followed my invitation as well!” Slughorn welcomes Sirius and James the moment Regulus turns around to come face to face with his brother.

“Hello, Sirius,” he says with a small smile. Joy blooms in his chest instantly because he knows that no one can blame him for running into his brother, just because Regulus accepted an invitation from his teacher.

“Hi, Reggie, it’s good to see you,” Sirius says under his breath while Slughorn talks to James beside him. “We’re only here because of you.” Sirius winks, then clarifies, “Or rather, I’m here because of you, James is here because of me.” He grins.

“How did you know I’d be here?” Regulus asks with a frown.

Sirius gives a dispassionate shrug. “Figured, didn’t it? I was there when you received Slughorn’s invite on the Hogwarts Express, remember? Also, you’re a Black. And I know you’re good at Potions.”

Right. He’s a Black. And still not sure whether this is more of a burden or a benefit. Before Regulus can think about this any further, though, Slughorn ushers him, Barty, Evan, Sirius and James to their seats and, as expected, begins to introduce everyone.

The people Regulus doesn’t know yet turn out to be a sixth-year boy and a seventh-year girl from Ravenclaw, who both won several Potions awards, and a fifth-year girl from Hufflepuff whose father apparently is somewhat of a luminary when it comes to Muggle artefacts. Overall, the selection of guests confirms Regulus’ impression that Slughorn primarily values how much influence someone has, or how much influence Slughorn thinks a person has, or can achieve based on their abilities.

In this, the Potions Master, to Regulus’ knowledge, makes no distinction between pure-bloods and Muggle-borns, as long as the person is beneficial to him. Regulus’ family dislikes that about the professor, but privately, he finds this is a bit hypocritical, given that they have used Slughorn’s connections in the past, when it was to their advantage.

“I’m more than happy that you all were able to follow my invitation,” Slughorn concludes his round of introduction, clapping his hands together with a benevolent smile on his face. “I’m especially flattered that Mister Potter and Mister Black the elder can finally join our esteemed circle tonight,” he adds, inclining his head to James and Sirius, the smile never leaving his lips.

“We’re honoured to be here, Professor,” James replies politely, flashing Slughorn a charming smile while Sirius looks a bit disgruntled.

Regulus assumes it’s because Slughorn just called him “Mister Black the elder”, a title that Sirius surely doesn’t appreciate because it’s usually reserved for their father. Lily, who has stopped talking to the other Gryffindor girl to focus on Slughorn, is eyeing both Sirius and James with a rather vexed face. Judging by the little Regulus knows of her, he imagines that it’s because she’s not happy about the nepotism that’s clearly at play here. Remus told Regulus that, for all his good marks, James is not exactly a Potions prodigy, so he was likely invited because of his old and influential family. Just like Sirius, who has no spectacular Potions skills either. Nor has Evan, if Regulus is being honest.

However, Regulus clearly differs from Lily in one regard; While he does see the unfairness in it, he’s happy that Evan and Sirius are here with him, so he decides to focus on this.

“Yes, yes, this is quite the gathering!” Slughorn seems to say more to himself than to the students he’s assembled, oblivious to Sirius’ or Lily’s displeasure. “Please, don’t be shy! Do indulge in this fabulous feast that the house-elves have so kindly prepared for us,” he invites the group with a grand hand gesture, then helps himself to a roast turkey leg and leans back in his chair, sticking his belly out prominently.

Slowly, everyone follows suit. They put food on their plates and start to eat while general chatter ensues. In the beginning, Slughorn does most of the talking, addressing individual people and inquiring about things that interest him. This suits Regulus very well, because he still doesn’t like talking while he eats, and Sirius answers most of Slughorn’s questions about their family willingly, albeit without much enthusiasm. However, Regulus thinks he’s the only one to realise this, apart from James maybe, because Sirius does know how to fake politeness. He can play the well-bred heir if he wants to. Regulus knows this, it’s just not often that he gets to witness it.

“And what are your plans, if I may ask?” Slughorn eyes Regulus expectantly, “Besides setting yourself apart from your brother when it comes to potion-making, of course?” He chuckles and then nods towards Sirius with a wink that conveys he’s just making light conversation.

In contrast to before, Sirius doesn’t seem at all peeved. Quite the opposite – he smiles back in an amused manner, granting Regulus his success. But either way, this question of Slughorn is one, Regulus has to answer himself. He doesn’t mind too much, though, because by now he’s almost finished his main course, and has no issues to indulge his professor.

“Well, of course, I strive for good academic performance first and foremost,” he answers after swallowing his last bite, placing his knife and fork neatly on his plate. “Next year, I would also like to join the Slytherin Quidditch team, and later, when the time arrives, I would naturally be grateful for the opportunity to become a prefect.”

“Oh, those are high aspirations, m’boy! And after all that, I’m sure you’d be happy to become Head Boy too?”

“Obviously.” Regulus inclines his head in an affirmative way, ignoring Sirius’ smirk and James’ snicker.

Everything that’s expected of me.

“It’s wonderful to have a new rising star in my house, Mister Black! I’m sure you’ll achieve great things!” Slughorn says excitedly before moving on to interview Barty about some motion his father apparently facilitated at the Ministry of Magic.

Once they’ve had dessert, the group loosens up a bit and they start talking in individual, smaller groups or pairs, some people moving over to the comfier seating by the fireplace. Slughorn encourages all this, fostering a relaxed atmosphere. He connects guests, nudging them to mingle, and makes sure everyone feels comfortable and talkative. Nevertheless, he also partakes in different discussions in varying constellations.

When Slughorn is busy talking to Evan about his father’s work, Barty seizes the opportunity to gently poke Regulus’ side. They’re still sitting next to each other at the table, glasses of pumpkin juice in front of them.

“What’s your impression so far?” Barty whispers.

“Could be worse, I think,” Regulus replies with a shrug.

“What are you whispering about?” Rabastan, who sneaked up behind them without Regulus noticing, interjects, ironically also in a whisper. “Why are you here at all, Crouch? Flaunting your blood-traitor father like it’s something to be proud of.”

Barty’s face pales, and Regulus is about to put Rabastan in his place, but Narcissa, appearing next to them, intervenes before he can do any such thing.

“Rabastan, please,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Consider what’s prudent and what isn’t. Is he really worth making yourself look bad in front of our teacher?” she then hisses, sparing Barty a rather disdainful look.

Snape, who apparently has the hearing of a bat and has followed the conversation, snorts a small laugh at this.

“Got something in your nose, Snivellus?” Sirius teases with a mean grin as he walks past Snape and straight over to Regulus and Barty. He grabs a chair, turns it around and sits down next to Regulus, forearms resting on the backrest.

“Hey, Reggie,” he says, greeting Barty with a nod as well. Then he adds, “Bye, Cissy,” flashing her his broadest grin.

“Oh, charming as always,” she replies in a haughty voice, but her lips twitch ever so slightly as she turns to leave, pulling Rabastan with her.

“So? What’s up, little bro? I haven’t seen you much lately,” Sirius cocks his head in a scrutinising manner.

“Yes, um… I was quite busy,” Regulus says slowly.

Sirius’ lips pull up into a teasing smirk. “I believe that, with those high aspirations of yours,” he winks.

“Ha-ha.”

“Ah, come on, Reggie, I’m only winding you up,” Sirius says warmly, nudging his elbow against Regulus’ arm. “Seriously, though. How are you? All good?”

Regulus takes a breath and looks at his brother. He knows Sirius means no harm. “Yes, Sirius, I’m fine.” He even manages a small smile.

“Excellent!” Sirius sits up a little straighter, his grin broadening again as it takes on an excited quality. “Will you join me to watch the next Gryffindor Quidditch practice? I’ve been meaning to ask you for some time, but… somehow I never managed to get a hold of you.” His eyebrows pinch together slightly at this last statement.

Regulus’ stomach feels heavy with guilt. He did evade Sirius these past few weeks, made sure to leave the Great Hall quickly after meals, avoided bumping into him before Charms, and generally stayed clear of Sirius’ path ever since the most recent exchange with Narcissa in the Slytherin common room. Regulus had needed time to think, but he didn’t exactly use it for this purpose, did he? Now he glances over to his cousin, who’s still busy talking to Rabastan. Nevertheless, her eyes briefly meet Regulus’ and Narcissa pulls one eyebrow up just a tad.

“I saw her smoking behind the greenhouses the other day, with Lestrange and some other Slytherins,” Sirius says with a small laugh.

Regulus looks back at him, realising that Sirius followed his line of sight and is watching Narcissa as well.

“Oh? Hm,” Regulus utters very creatively.

“Yeah. So will you come and join me?” Sirius presses on. “You can bring your friends too,” he continues with a friendly smile towards Barty, who acknowledges this with a casual nod of thanks.

Barty seems to have processed the unpleasant encounter with Rabastan, because he’s looking considerably less spooked again.

“Yes, alright,” Regulus ultimately gives in, trying to appear less reluctant than he feels. “I’ll ask Evan whether he wants to join us also, maybe Dorcas, too.”

He does want to spend time with Sirius; maybe this way, he’ll be able to pass it off as running into his brother by accident. His hopes aren’t high, but he clings to them.

“Terrific!” Sirius beams. “I’m sure James will be happy too. Where is he, anyway?” He looks around and quickly spots his best friend in conversation with Lily and the other Gryffindor girl. “I’ll better go and step in, Evans doesn’t look too happy, does she?” Sirius snorts a laugh and stands. “I’ll see you, Reggie. I look forward to watching the Gryffindor practice with you!”

“Yes, me too,” Regulus replies, allowing himself a smile in return. From the corner of his eye, he can see that Narcissa is distracted by Rabastan, and Snape is talking to Slughorn now.

Evan rejoins Regulus and Barty after this, and they all spend about 30 more minutes in Slughorn’s office before the gathering starts to dissolve.

Chapter Text

Dear Regulus,

I hope you do not mind my writing to you, but I could not help wondering how you are doing these days. Your first two months at Hogwarts have almost passed now. I do hope you like your classes.

It has been brought to my attention that you have been Sorted into Slytherin. I believe congratulations are in order, and I sincerely hope you are happy with your house. I also hope that you are still able to see a lot of your brother. If you do and if you deem it appropriate, please give him my best wishes.

If there is anything you need that I might be able to provide, please feel free to let me know.

My warmest regards,

Your cousin
Andromeda


Regulus is pleasantly surprised when he receives Andromeda’s letter during breakfast. She’s always been one of his favourite family members, but sadly, contact with her ceased after she married a Muggle-born and was shunned from the family. His mother even blasted her off the family tapestry and forbade Regulus and Sirius any form of contact with their “renegade” cousin.

Regulus adhered to his mother’s directive, but that never stopped him from missing one of the few people who’ve always shown him nothing but kindness. Sure, he gets along with Narcissa as well, and of course he has Sirius, but Andromeda’s warm and caring presence had been special. Being eight years older than Regulus, she’d always felt a bit like a combination of a big sister and a mother figure whenever his real mother got too… complicated.

He re-reads the letter twice, zoning out a little while Barty, Evan and Dorcas chatter next to him. He’s not sure how Andromeda knows about his house, but there are many ways the news could’ve gotten around to her. Other than that, the letter doesn’t contain much personal information, neither about her nor does it inquire about Regulus.

He can’t blame her for her hesitant tone. It’s obvious that she doesn’t want to ask too directly about anything, that she wants to keep some form of courteous distance. After all, he never gave her any indication that he didn’t feel the same way about her as the majority of their family – he simply didn’t know how. Therefore, Regulus feels all the more grateful that she now wrote to him anyway, and decides to write a letter back after watching the Gryffindor Quidditch practice.

Regulus makes his way down to the Quidditch pitch with Barty, Evan and Dorcas. They can already make out Peter from afar, seated in the stands; Sirius is mercifully deep in conversation with some bloke Regulus doesn’t recognise, a couple of feet away. They’re out of earshot, but from their faces Regulus can deduce that they’re up to something he probably doesn’t want to know about.

“Hello, Peter,” Regulus says politely while sitting down next to him, his three friends following suit. “Where’s Remus? Is he still coming?”

“Nah, he’s not feeling well. No need to worry, though!” Peter says quickly when Regulus frowns, “It’s nothing major. But, he’s in the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey won’t let him leave before tonight.” He shrugs and rolls his eyes with a small, fond smile.

Regulus nods curtly. He’s heard about the very overprotective ways of the school matron. It’s probably for the better, too. This way, it’s only Peter and Sirius, while Regulus came with three other Slytherins – he might really pass it off as a coincidental encounter.

The illusion of a chance meeting establishes itself even more when Marlene McKinnon shows up as well. She arrives at the same moment Sirius leaves his conversation partner and settles on Peter’s other side.

“All’s sorted,” he murmurs to Peter before smiling up at Regulus. “Hey, Reggie, it’s good to see you! And you brought friends! Hey there!” He waves at them all in greeting, receiving smiles and waves back.

“Oi, McKinnon! Get over here, we need some backup in the face of four snakes,” Sirius then shouts to his housemate, grinning at the Slytherins immediately after. “No hard feelings.”

Barty snorts a laugh in response, shaking his head, just like Evan, who adds a humorous eyeroll. Dorcas, however, watches with a welcoming smile as Marlene indeed comes strolling over to them, blonde hair pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, a self-assured smirk on her lips. Dorcas is probably glad she’s not the only girl in this group of unpredictable male Quidditch fanatics.

Regulus finds this a perfect situation. They’re a bit of a motley crew now – surely no one will be able to hold anything against him for being here?

“McKinnon, meet my brother Regulus and his friends—”

“Dorcas, Barty and Evan,” Regulus takes over from Sirius, gesturing to each one as he introduces them.

“Hiya!” Marlene nods and smiles, but there’s something sharp behind it. It’s nothing unfriendly, just some kind of calculated attentiveness, like nothing escapes her. It reminds Regulus faintly of Pandora, but the Gryffindor appears more prickly, the glint in her eyes more piercing than his friend’s.

“I saw you trying out for Beater,” Regulus tells Marlene once she’s taken a seat in the row above them. “You were truly impressive. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

“Oh, thank you!” she replies, surprised but clearly pleased. “Frank told me that if I refine my technique a little, I’ll have good chances to become a Beater next year. I mean, I would’ve liked to play with Danny, of course. My brother, you know? But I can still cheer him on now, and then replace him next year.” She shrugs lightly, but the spark in her eyes tells Regulus that she’s serious.

“Careful, McKinnon, I’ll try out for Beater too, next year, so you’ll have competition!” Sirius cuts in, raising his eyebrows in challenge.

Regulus then learns that Marlene McKinnon truly is something. She merely looks Sirius up and down, then back up again, entirely unimpressed, only to finally utter a weary, almost lazy “I don’t think so”, before turning her gaze back to the pitch. After a brief, incredulous moment of shock, Sirius barks a full-belly laugh, the others around him joining in successively. Even Regulus can’t bite back a grin of his own, especially when he spots the tiny twitch in the corner of Marlene’s mouth.

They all watch the commencing practice for a while after this, and Regulus quickly memorises the names and positions of the players, looking for their individual strengths and weaknesses. Annoyingly enough, there aren’t many weaknesses to spot. Frank Longbottom, Captain and one of the Chasers, has really assembled a great team. Even the new Keeper, Clara Wood, fits in seamlessly from the start. The Beaters, Daniel McKinnon and Charlie Sloper, complement and balance each other effortlessly, and the three Chasers, Longbottom, Alice Fortescue and, of course, James, already fly in perfect sync like they’ve never done anything else.

The only weak link seems to be Gryffindor’s Seeker. Sarah Bell is a third-year student, and Regulus can’t help but scoff several times when she flies different manoeuvres way more sloppily than he ever would. His confidence to beat her next year is solidified when she spots the Snitch a full ten minutes after Regulus has.

She’s no match for me, he thinks to himself.

Regulus has always been far less cocky and complacent than Sirius, but when it comes to Quidditch, he just knows he’s got what it takes to win: Talent, willpower and self-discipline. Two of these three traits he shares with his brother.

When there is a short break because Longbottom calls his team over to explain something, Regulus uses the pause to ask Sirius about their cousin.

“Andromeda sent me a letter,” he says in a low voice. The others are talking among themselves anyway, but Regulus doesn’t particularly feel like sharing this with anyone else at the moment. “Are you in touch with her as well?”

“Oh, Andy wrote to you? That’s lovely, Reg,” Sirius replies cheerfully. “Yeah, we write every now and then. She sends me Muggle stuff I like.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Regulus asks, frowning.

Sirius’ expression turns a bit sombre, almost sad. “She um… asked me not to,” he confesses slowly. “She doesn’t have any contact with the rest of the family and only wrote back to me after I sent her a letter first. I wrote to her after I got Sorted into Gryffindor. You know that Mother and Father weren’t pleased, and I couldn’t contact you, so…” he shrugs. “I keep her updated from time to time. I also told her about you ending up in Slytherin, but I also mentioned that we still spend time together, so… I don’t know, maybe she wanted to test the waters by writing to you? You two always got along well too, right?”

Regulus mulls this over for a moment. He reckons it makes sense. Andromeda’s letter wasn’t very warm or personal, yet reading it felt like a hand being extended to him. A hand he can probably take, given that Andromeda seems keen on keeping her distance from any family member who could backstab him.

“She told me to say hello to you,” Regulus informs Sirius, who accepts the greetings with a happy nod.

The Quidditch practice resumes after this, and they all continue watching, Sirius, Marlene and Peter being especially enthusiastic. Maybe it’s a Gryffindor thing. Either way, when it’s over, Sirius and Peter are the first to rise, wanting to visit Remus in the hospital wing.

“Madam Pomfrey allows three visitors this afternoon. James will join us later”, Sirius explains as he stands up. “I’ll see you, Reggie.” He briefly hugs Regulus goodbye before leaving with Peter.

The moment they’re gone, Dorcas nudges Regulus in the side. “This was fun! And Potter’s a brilliant flyer, isn’t he?” she asks, her eyes bright with excitement.

“Yes, it was good. I just don’t know whether to be curious or worried about the Slytherin match against Gryffindor. They might be too good,” Regulus ponders.

“I reckon you’re right,” Barty nods. “But it’s only gonna be this year, isn’t it? Next year you’ll join the team and you can just always catch the snitch after two minutes,” he grins.

“Definitely!” Evan agrees fervently.

Regulus can’t help but feel a pleasant jolt of anticipation in his stomach. He’d like to play on the best team, but it’s not like he has a choice, so he’ll be happy to play for his own house – the most important thing is that he’ll be allowed to play at all next year.

“Marlene seems pretty cool too, doesn’t she?” Dorcas asks as they stand up from their seats. “Pity she isn’t in Slytherin, eh?”

“Sure,” Regulus answers rather non-committedly while he looks over to Marlene McKinnon, who’s welcoming James back from the pitch with a wide smile.

“You were great, Potter! I think we’ll have excellent chances for the cup this year!” she tells him, beaming.

“Thanks, McKinnon! You weren’t too bad yourself at tryouts, though. I look forward to playing with you next year!” James returns her smile and ruffles his own hair, messing it up, apparently aiming to keep its wind-swept look.

“Sirius and Pete left already?” he asks with a slight frown, looking from Marlene over to Regulus and the other Slytherins.

“Yes, they’re gone to visit Remus in the hospital wing,” Regulus confirms.

“Ah, yes, of course! I’ll have a shower and go there too. Thank you for coming to watch!” The smile is back on his face as he messes up his hair again.

Regulus finds this behaviour a tiny bit pretentious, but he doesn’t feel the need to point this out. Instead, he merely nods as he moves past James, together with Dorcas, Barty and Evan.

“You do that, James, I’ll see you around.”

Later that evening, Regulus is sitting in the Slytherin common room, writing his reply letter to Andromeda. He’s in the process of applying the last finishing touches when he’s rudely interrupted.

“Back from Quidditch, Black?”

Looking up, Regulus’ gaze meets none other than Mulciber, flanked, as usual, by Avery and Snape. Wilkes is there too, hovering in the background and watching the scene unfold. Coward.

With a sigh, Regulus puts down his quill to eye Mulciber with a distinctly bored expression. His heart is pounding violently against his ribcage, but he knows he’ll do better not showing any sign of weakness.

“It appears I am, doesn’t it?” His voice is steady and as bored as his features. Years of training are paying off – silver lining and all that.

“It’s curious, though, isn’t it?” Mulciber sneers, nudging Avery in the side and grinning at him for backup before turning back to Regulus. “I wonder why a true Slytherin shows that much interest in Gryffindor. Maybe you’re in the wrong house after all?”

“Well, his brother was there, wasn’t he?” Avery smirks cruelly.

“That’s right, I saw him chatting with the blood-traitor!” Snape adds, contempt dripping from his words.

“Is that it, Black?” Mulciber asks challengingly, Did you want to spend some quality time with your despicable brother again, or did you want to see your new pal Potter? He’s best mates with Sirius, isn’t he? Are you and Potter friends now, too?”

“That arrogant prick,” Avery grimaces, “Strutting around the school like he owns the place. He and Sirius are a perfect match in that, though.”

Heat rises in Regulus’ chest at the sheer audacity of his three housemates. He takes a deep breath to ground himself, but just when he his about to push back his chair and stand—

“Back off!”

Tarquin Travers saunters over to them, reprimanding Mulciber and his cronies. While Avery and Mulciber are two years above Regulus, Travers is in his fourth year, and Regulus knows him relatively well, because the Traverses are close friends of the Blacks. He never found him particularly likeable or pleasant, but right now, Regulus is thankful for the reprieve Travers’ interference buys him: More time to calm himself.

“How dare you speak to him like that?” Travers seems perfectly at ease, and yet his tone clearly doesn’t allow any backtalk. “You should know better, Mulciber, Avery. Regulus Black comes from one of the most pure-blood families in existence, maybe the most pure-blood. Who are you to question his actions or his authority?”

Now, Regulus is fairly sure that Travers only aims to impress him and get into Regulus’ good graces. However, for some reason, it’s at this moment that he realises two things: Firstly, his name carries an enormous weight. Not only the Black family name, but his individual name too. Regulus Black. Up until now, he always saw himself as just the baby of the family, the necessary spare. Someone who’s expected to behave a certain way, achieve certain things. Of course he’s a Black, but not one with a lot of control or more prestige than his parents or his brother.

But. He’s the only male Black family member in Slytherin right now. Unlike his brother, Regulus will graduate from school with all possible honours. He will not fall out of line but live up to his family’s name. He’ll make his parents proud of him. It’s what’s expected of him, after all.

So it’s at this point in time that Regulus truly comprehends how much power and influence he has. Can have, if he plays his cards right. Which brings him to his second realisation: He wants to make use of his status.

Because he’s had it. Enough is enough. Regulus will not spend the next seven years being bullied by imbeciles who have much less weight in the wizarding world than they’d ever like to admit. Much less than him, anyway.

Slowly, deliberately, he rises from his chair. His posture is upright and just as demanding as he's witnessed his parents holding themselves on countless occasions – whenever they aimed for a particular brand of authority.

“Thank you, Travers,” he says calmly, inclining his head to the fourth-year, “But I’ve got this.” Despite his heart positively hammering in his chest, Regulus keeps his gaze steady when he turns it towards Mulciber and the other two.

“Not that this is in any way your concern, but I did not spend time with my brother today. I watched our competition. My competition, come next year. And if either of you questions my loyalty to Slytherin House again, I will not hesitate to challenge your conduct in turn. Yours and that of your families. Do not underestimate me. I can make your life a living hell,” he states in an icy voice. To his immense satisfaction, Mulciber and Avery look rather startled, and Snape’s pallid skin is even waxier than usual.

“Speaking of family, neither of you will dare to speak ill of my brother ever again. He’s a Black too, and you will do well to remember this,” Regulus finishes in a haughty tone and with a finality that clearly conveys the spat is now over.

He gathers his letter and his quill, wanting to put both away in his dormitory before finding Barty and Evan. Neither of the three boys says anything, but once Regulus has moved past them and is on his way to the corridor leading to the boys’ dorms, a hand reaches out to gently grab his shoulder. He stops dead at the contact and turns to find Narcissa smiling at him.

“Well done, cousin.”

He frowns at her, raising an eyebrow ever so slightly, but he says nothing.

“I witnessed that little scene just now, and I think you did exactly the right thing. It’s a game we have to play, you know?” She huffs out a small laugh. “Of course you know, you just proved that. Sirius never understood it, but I think you have more potential to live up to the Black name.”

She gives his shoulder a little squeeze as Regulus acknowledges her words with a nod. Then she walks over to some of her friends while he continues on his way down the corridor. At first, he’s not sure what to make of Narcissa’s praise. After all, it’s not like he put Mulciber in his place out of deep pure-blood conviction or anything. But… that was exactly her point, wasn’t it?

It’s a game we have to play.

Regulus has seven years at Hogwarts ahead of him, plus however many more years in the wizarding world after school. So if presenting as the worthy offspring of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black works to his advantage, it would be foolish of him not to utilise this, wouldn’t it?

The next morning, Regulus briefly second-guesses his letter to Andromeda, but since she successfully kept her correspondence with Sirius from the world, he’s sure that she won’t tell his mother about Regulus writing to her. So he decides to send the letter between breakfast and his first lesson, tucking it away carefully in his robes.

The letter is not extremely long. Regulus wrote that he’s fine with being in Slytherin and that he’s already made some friends. He wrote that he still does see quite a bit of Sirius, and he also included some information on Narcissa, that she’s doing well. Andromeda didn’t ask for this, but Regulus painfully remembers that when he and Sirius couldn’t have any contact, he was still desperate for news about his brother. Maybe Andromeda feels similar about her sister.

Regulus enters the Great Hall for breakfast, only to stop dead in his tracks. If it wasn’t for Barty and Evan next to him, he’d think that he’s lost his way or his marbles, possibly both: The four large banners displaying the house crests are all in the Gryffindor colours red and gold, and in the sky of the enchanted ceiling, the image of an enormous lion is rearing its head. The moment Regulus catches sight of it, the lion gives a deafening roar, drowning out the breakfast chatter below it.

Not quite believing his own eyes, he turns towards Barty, who looks as confused as Regulus feels. His gaze snags onto Barty’s tie that has changed colours too, the Slytherin silver and green replaced by gold and scarlet. Looking down at his own tie, Regulus is not surprised to find that it has been switched to the Gryffindor colours as well.

“Looks like we’re all Gryffindors today,” Dorcas shrugs with an amused grin when Regulus, Barty and Evan settle down next to her at the table. “Flitwick already said he’ll put everything back to normal later, but apparently, he finds the whole thing funny. Or simply impressive.”

Regulus can’t deny that he finds the idea – and the execution – rather impressive as well. He also starts to see the entertaining side of it when, gradually, more and more Slytherins in particular become incensed by the excessive presence of their rival houses’ colours. Yes, Regulus is a Slytherin himself and loyal to his house, but all within the realm of reason. This is just a harmless prank, and Professor Flitwick will restore everything. So he prefers to ignore the fuss about it and chooses to focus on his bacon, eggs and toast instead. He finds it refreshing to have friends like Dorcas, Barty and Evan who care just as much, or as little, as he does about this childish practical joke.

However, the thought of childish practical jokes gives Regulus a shrewd idea who might be behind this whole thing, and with the Gryffindor colours at that. And indeed – when he looks over to where his brother and his friends are seated at the Gryffindor table, Regulus thinks he can see the faintest hint of smugness displayed on Sirius’ face.

When he enters the owlery after breakfast, Regulus is surprised to find someone already there. He’d been to the place a couple of times to check on Izar since he’d sent his letter home, but he was always alone then. Now, James Potter is standing there, his owl Snidget perched on his arm, feeding the animal owl treats.

“Nice tie!” James grins mischievously when he turns around and spots Regulus. “The Gryffindor colours suit you,” he winks.

Regulus feels his cheeks warming in embarrassment. He knows it’s stupid because James must be aware that Regulus did not dress like this by choice. However, Regulus has only limited control over his physical reactions, and for some annoying reason, said control is failing him right now.

“Thanks,” he says as sardonically as possible, ignoring the fact that his face probably betrays his nonchalance. Instead, he whistles with two fingers to summon Izar.

“You don’t know by any chance who’s behind this, do you?” Regulus asks off-handedly, once he has his owl on his arm and can gently stroke its chest. Luckily, the softness of the plumage has somewhat of a grounding effect on him.

“Me? Nope, no idea, sorry,” James replies with a smirk. “Only thing I know is that the culprits won’t be caught.” He winks again.

Of course. Not only does Regulus find James’ innocent act ridiculously obvious, the smug arrogance in the boy’s grin also strikes him as mildly aggravating.

“Right,” he therefore retorts flatly.

“Oh, come on, Reg, it’s just a stupid joke, isn’t it? The charm will wear off soon, and then your tie’ll be all silver and green again. Come to think of it, those colours do bring out your eyes more,” James cackles, nudging him in the side.

Lamentably enough, heat rises again in Regulus’ face at this renewed display of James’ irritating overconfidence. He’s never called him Reg before, either. Only his friends may call him that, and right now, Regulus doesn’t feel too friendly towards James. He might blush occasionally, yes, but he’s usually not one to do so out of anger. That James stirs up this reaction in him is frankly downright galling.

However, Regulus reminds himself that he wants to get along with James. For Sirius. So he takes a deep breath and focuses on his fingertips brushing against Izar’s feathers and on the warmth of the bird’s body underneath.

“You know an awful lot about that charm for someone who’s got nothing to do with it,” he remarks drily while he carefully attaches his letter to Izar’s leg.

James’ grin broadens even more, but instead of addressing Regulus’ comment, he merely winks yet again. Honestly, does he maybe have some kind of seizure or something?

“Are you writing home?” James asks, very not-smoothly diverting from the subject.

Regulus ponders his answer for a moment. He doesn’t trust James enough to tell him that he’s writing to Andromeda, but he figures if James can change the subject, so can he.

“What about you? Don’t you have a letter to send as well?” Regulus counter-questions before sending Izar off through one of the glassless windows.

“Actually, I just came out here to look after Snidget and feed her a few owl treats. Wanted to yesterday, but I was busy, so…” James shrugs, accepting the new topic without question. One could almost think that he can take a hint.

Regulus wonders whether James’ being “busy” had anything to do with a certain Gryffindor-themed prank in the Great Hall, but he doesn’t bother asking.

“Alright then, say hello to Sirius for me,” he says instead, before leaving the draughty owlery. He pointedly ignores the “Will do, Reg!” that James calls after him when Regulus is already halfway out the door.

Chapter Text

The following week marks Regulus’ first Halloween at Hogwarts. He’s buzzing with anticipation from the moment he wakes on 31st October, and he’s not disappointed: Unlike usual, live bats come flying unexpectedly from the most surprising corners of the castle, zooming down the corridors and scaring the students. What’s more is that the whole castle is decorated with giant carved pumpkins, cultivated by none other than Mr Hagrid, as rumour has it. However, what Regulus looks forward to most during the whole day is the evening feast. Halloween has always been his and Sirius’ favourite holiday, so he’s been excited about Halloween at Hogwarts ever since Sirius told him about last year’s celebrations.

The feast truly turns out to be the highlight of Regulus’ day: The Great Hall is adorned all over with fake cobwebs – at least Regulus hopes they’re fake, because they’re too big to be made by normal spiders and he doesn’t fancy the thought of Acromantulas in his vicinity. In any case, the cobwebs are clearly enchanted, because they sparkle beautifully as they reflect the light from the ever-present floating candles. Live bats fly through the Great Hall as well, and in addition, someone (probably Professor Flitwick) charmed skeletons to walk back and forth between the house tables. At least they’re walking when they’re not standing by the entrance doors to scare arriving students. The skeletons add a nice, spooky touch to the atmosphere without being too sinister, in Regulus’ opinion.

Sitting down at the Slytherin table with Barty, Evan and Dorcas, Regulus lets his gaze wander through the Great Hall, taking everything in until his eyes finally land on the Gryffindor table. Sirius seems to be having a great time. Next to him sits Remus, who, Regulus is glad to notice, looks well. Apparently, his illness really wasn’t anything serious then. It’s not like Regulus didn’t believe Peter when he said so, but it’s nevertheless reassuring to see Remus up and about again – Regulus likes him and it’s beneficial for their study group, too.

The house ghosts don’t miss the opportunity to join the feast as well. Just when Regulus is helping himself to some of the roast beef and buttered peas and carrots, the Bloody Baron floats across the Slytherin table, coming to a stop to hover in the air right in front of him.

“Good evening,” Regulus greets him politely. He still doesn’t see any reason to be scared of the Baron, or any ghost, for that matter. Peeves is a nuisance, sure, but the other ghosts can hardly harm him, can they? Even if one were to attack him, it would be unpleasant at worst, the feeling of being drenched in icy water.

“Hello,” the Slytherin house ghost replies in the somewhat mournful tone his kind often adopts. “Delicious dinner, is it? Savoury? Flavourful?” His eyes follow Regulus’ hands taking some of the Yorkshire Pudding.

“Er… I assume? I haven’t actually tried it yet,” Regulus answers slowly. He does feel a little bad because he knows that ghosts can’t exactly eat, but that’s not his fault, though, is it?

“It’s great!” Barty confirms, munching audibly on roast potatoes.

In response, the Bloody Baron merely regards him with a mildly piqued expression, presumably due to Barty speaking in such an ungraceful manner, with his mouth full. Barty grins.

“Do you have anything special planned for tonight?” Dorcas asks the ghost with genuine interest, effectively drawing the attention away from Barty and Regulus. Bless her.

“No,” the Bloody Baron sighs wistfully. “All house ghosts are invited to a party in the dungeons. Sir Nicholas is celebrating his 480th deathday. But I don’t think I will go.”

“Why not?” Evan asks with a frown. “Not a fan of parties?”

“Or of Nearly Headless Nick?” Barty inquires, mercifully after having swallowed the food he’d been chewing.

Regulus listens with interest. He doesn’t want to participate in the conversation because he’s eating, but he’s curious nevertheless.

“I don’t deserve festivities,” the ghost replies in a doleful voice.

“Why not?” Regulus asks, now too intrigued to hold back after all.

However, the Baron doesn’t reply, but simply floats away, heaving another heavy sigh.

His eyebrows raised, Regulus looks from Barty to Evan to Dorcas, but they all just shrug, clearly as nonplussed as he is.

“A deathday party sounds cool, though, doesn’t it? Shall we go and have a look later?” Barty suggests.

“Why not?” shrugs Evan. “We’ll have to go back down to the dungeons anyway.”

“I’ve never been to a deathday party, it’d be brilliant to see one!” Dorcas says, looking excited about the prospect.

Regulus has never seen a deathday party before, either, so he shares the enthusiasm, and they agree to go and have a peek after dinner.

The unpleasant smell of rotten food wafts up their noses from afar when they get closer to the dungeon, the deathday party must be in. It’s an unmistakable indicator, apart from the eerie sound of musical saws and the noticeable drop in temperature.

“Ugh! I wish I hadn’t eaten the second helping of Treacle Tart,” Barty grimaces, his face taking on a slightly green tinge.

“Don’t throw up, mate!” Evan says warningly, raising an admonishing index finger.

“Lads, look!” They’ve reached their destination, and Dorcas is pointing at the scene.

Regulus spots at once where the mouldy food is arranged on a table and he also sees the musical saws playing of their own accord. It’s not an overly large crowd of ghostly guests. He assumes that a milestone deathday like the 500th or something would be celebrated with a bigger party.

Yet, it’s fascinating to see how the ghosts interact with each other. The Fat Friar is engaged in a conversation with the Grey Lady and another female ghost that Regulus has never seen before. Nearly Headless Nick is chatting with two other spirits, one of them laughing and holding his transparent belly.

“It’s quite a sight, huh?” Evan breathes, clearly impressed.

“Yes,” Regulus agrees softly, watching a ghost with his mouth wide open flying through the buffet. The dishes pass right through him (or he through the dishes), most likely in an attempt to get at least some faint taste out of the overly aged food.

At that moment, the Gryffindor ghost notices them and drifts over. “Hello, young Slytherins,” Nearly Headless Nick greets them politely, if a little surprised.

“Good evening,” says Regulus in his most respectful tone. “Our apologies, we didn’t mean to interrupt. We were told about your deathday party and were a little curious. But we won’t bother you any longer.”

“Oh, that’s quite all right,” Nick says, solemnly inclining his head. “It’s nice to be thought of.”

“Right, um… happy deathday?” Barty says hesitantly. Evan shoots him a shocked glare, but Nick doesn’t seem upset or anything.

The ghost merely sighs theatrically. “Quite. I assume one should be happy if congratulations are offered. I thank you and hope you’ll have a pleasant night.”

With that, he floats back to his guests, and Regulus and the others retreat politely.

“It’s a bit mad, isn’t it?” Evan ponders, once they’re on their way back to the Slytherin common room. “To think that he died 480 years ago? That was…” he scrunches up his nose for a moment, calculating, “1492.”

Dorcas’ eyes go wide at this realisation, “That’s freaky! He died the year Columbus discovered America!”

“And at Halloween at that,” Barty contributes.

Regulus snorts a laugh. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“No, I just mean— I don’t know, Halloween is my favourite holiday, so…” Barty trails off with a shrug.

“Yes, mine too,” Regulus smiles at him.

He’s not sure why he even has a favourite holiday. He’s never been one for parties and there were never any fun celebrations at his home, only formal dinners. Maybe that’s exactly why, though. Maybe it’s the wish for more festivities, and on an autumn holiday at that. After all, autumn is Regulus’ favourite season – the leaves turn all pretty, it brings a lot of rainy days, which he likes, and it’s neither as hot as the summer nor as bitingly cold as the winter. He gets cold so easily during winter.

“And I reckon you’re right,” he ultimately agrees with Barty, “I think it’s quite a bummer to die on Halloween.”

Three days after Halloween is Sirius’ birthday, and Regulus is invited to the party. So the celebrations don’t seem to stop, but it’s not like he minds. On the contrary – for once, Regulus is excited to go to a party, because he’ll finally see where his brother lives. Since the 3rd of November is a Friday, which means no classes the next day, Professor McGonagall has given permission for the party to take place in the Gryffindor common room. This, of course, brings the added benefit that no one from Slytherin will know about Regulus going.

Since his recent little diatribe, which has spread around his house too, Mulciber and his cronies have left Regulus alone. Nevertheless, he doesn't feel the desire to tempt fate, so he’ll keep his engagement for tonight quiet. His friends know, of course, but no one else needs to.

Just like Sirius told him to, Regulus arrives at Gryffindor Tower at 7:30 p.m. and gives the password (“Comae Leonis”) to the portrait of a rather chubby woman. The picture swings aside to reveal a hole behind it – the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Regulus carefully steps through the hole, the portrait swinging shut behind him at once. He looks around and realises that the room looks exactly as he’d imagined it from Sirius’ descriptions.

Right now, the furniture seems to have been rearranged. Most of it is placed on the side of the room to create a small dancefloor currently occupied by a few older students. However, Regulus can see the rickety tables, as well as the cushy armchairs and the comfy sofas Sirius told him about. On a larger table, a spread of different snacks and treats surrounds a tasty-looking round birthday cake with chocolate icing, the words “Happy Birthday, Sirius” written on it in white fondant. A huge red and gold banner is floating in mid-air, displaying the same words, and to top it all off, the crackling fire in the fireplace casts a warm, cosy atmosphere over the whole scene.

The room is packed with people, yet Regulus spots Sirius and his friends immediately: Sirius is sitting on one of the sofas, next to James, talking animatedly to Remus and Peter, who’re seated on armchairs beside the sofa. Marlene McKinnon sits on another couch, opposite them, in conversation with a dark-skinned girl Regulus has seen before but doesn’t know the name of. He also notices Lily talking to Emmeline from their study group, a couple of first-year Gryffindors he knows from their shared classes, and several members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team scattered around the room.

He makes his way over to his brother while music wafts through the room, coming from two black boxes that are floating in mid-air, next to what appears to be some kind of Muggle device. It looks like a gramophone but without the horn on top; this must be the bewitched record player Sirius told Regulus about. Remus brought it with him from home, and it’s enchanted to work despite the magic in the air that usually makes Muggle devices go haywire around Hogwarts.

The music is probably Muggle-made too. After all, Regulus knows that his brother is obsessed with all things Muggle and that Remus introduced Sirius and his friends to different Muggle musicians. Currently, a man is singing that some “babe” should “do the hip shake”. Regulus supposes the song is not too bad. Peter seems to like it a lot, judging by the seated dance he does in his armchair while simultaneously listening to Sirius. Maybe it’s that band he likes, The Rolling Stones? It’s a bit of a curious name for a band, in Regulus’ opinion, but he was only ever allowed to listen to classical music at home, so what does he know? He never owned any records either; there isn’t even a radio at Grimmauld Place to listen to the Wizarding Wireless Network.

“We need to get back at him!” Regulus hears James say to Sirius when he’s within earshot.

“Get back at who?” Marlene asks, obviously having picked up that part as well.

“Eric Stevens,” Sirius growls back. “He was rude to Remus the other day.”

The dark-skinned girl next to Marlene looks at him wide-eyed. “I didn’t know Hufflepuffs could be rude! And to our Remus at that? I’m with James, you absolutely have to get back at him! Need my help?” She grins.

“Nah,” Sirius replies lazily, “I think we— oh, hey, Reggie!”

He leaps up excitedly the moment he sees Regulus and immediately hugs him fiercely. Regulus brings up his arms around Sirius’ back to return the embrace.

“Happy 13th birthday,” he says, before he steps back again and takes his gift out of his pocket.

Birthday presents aren’t really a thing at Grimmauld Place and the two brothers never could buy anything for each other, because their parents would have asked what they needed the money for. Hence, Regulus and Sirius resorted to giving each other small, self-made presents – self-drawn pictures, hand-picked flower bouquets and similar things when they were little, expanding to slightly more advanced gifts when they got older. Sirius once gave Regulus a self-bound journal, for example, that he used to write down potion recipes and then, in turn, brew some for Sirius for the next gift-giving occasion.

For this birthday, Regulus spent his Astronomy lessons creating a special star chart for his brother. So far, the first-years’ lessons revolved around the names of the stars, but this is all old news to Regulus. He and Sirius used to stargaze a lot together, finding the stars and constellations their family members were named after. So the stars are something that connects the brothers in more than one way, and Regulus considers his idea quite suitable.

“I’ve enchanted it to show all of the visible stars, throughout the year,” Regulus explains as Sirius unrolls the parchment and takes a close look at it. “My stars are a bit on the sideline right now, but your namesake Sirius will be visible soon and then it’ll appear extra bright on this map.”

A huge smile spreads over Sirius’ lips as he pulls him into another hug. “Thank you, Reggie, this is really cool!”

“Let me see!” James demands curiously, examining the chart too, when Sirius hands it to him. “Wow! You made this yourself?” He looks up at Regulus.

“I did,” he replies, sitting down on the sofa with Sirius and James. Peter leans over to hand him a bottle of Butterbeer that Regulus gratefully accepts.

“Impressive,” Remus says appreciatively, studying Regulus’ present as well. “I know I’ve said it before, but I’m glad you’re in our study group,” he smiles.

“Oh! Oh! I love that song!” Peter interjects when a guitar riff resounds from the charmed record player.

“Me too!” Sirius tucks the star chart away and starts bobbing his head to the beat together with Peter.

“Who’s that?” Regulus asks when a male voice starts singing something about “girls and boys makin’ all that noise”. He’s a bit caught off guard by the sudden change of subject and the loud music that has drawn quite a lot of people’s attention. Sirius and Peter aren’t the only ones moving to the rhythm and singing along.

“Alice Cooper,” Remus answers the question with another smile.

Regulus frowns at him. “Alice Cooper? But… it doesn’t sound like a woman.”

“Alice Cooper is the name of the band,” Marlene informs him, before she and Sirius are all but shouting the next lyrics.

“Well, we got no class, and we got no principles, and we got no innocence!” The two of them grin at each other.

Regulus just takes it all in. A band with a woman’s name strikes him as mildly curious, too. Muggles really are kind of fascinating; he thinks that he can begin to see why Sirius is so taken by everything to do with them. And with Remus, he certainly has a best friend right at the source for Muggle music and probably all other areas of Muggle everyday life.

“That song was a huge success this summer,” Remus tells Regulus, confirming his thought process. “I reckon it makes sense, it’s called School’s Out, after all.”

Regulus nods and keeps listening to the song. Then it changes and Sirius nudges him in the side. “Hey, Reg, this is Mary Macdonald, by the way. You two haven’t been properly introduced yet, have you?”

“No, Mister Fancypants, we have indeed not been formally acquainted,” the dark-skinned girl replies in a playful voice before flashing Regulus a wide, genuine smile.

“Pleasure!” she winks. Mary has sleek, shiny black hair falling over her shoulder blades, and a pretty face with warm, chocolate-brown eyes that crinkle in the corners when she smiles. Yet, there’s something shrewd in them too, kind of like with Marlene, but a bit softer. Regulus’ first impression of Mary Macdonald is that she’s a sharp girl who doesn’t mince matters.

“Good to meet you,” he replies politely.

She smirks. “Are you enjoying Hogwarts so far?”

“Oh, I am. My classes are good, I found some new friends, and now I’m even allowed to enter the lion’s den,” he says, trying for an indulging tone and earning himself a bright laugh from her.

Mary asks about his lessons and they chat for a bit. Regulus learns that she has a brother who’s three years younger than her, but who most likely won’t be attending Hogwarts because he hasn’t shown any signs of magical ability yet. This doesn’t surprise or worry her, though, because she’s Muggle-born and so far the only known witch in her family.

“Mind you, it’s not like either of my parents ever did genealogy or anything before they left Nigeria. So maybe there were some witches or wizards before me, but I guess we’ll never know,” Mary shrugs.

The concept of not knowing your ancestry is mind-boggling to Regulus, who would prefer to know less about some of his own family tree’s branches. Fortunately, Sirius interrupts the conversation when this thought occurs to him.

“Listen up, Reggie! That’s T. Rex!”

By now, Regulus has accepted that every strange name thrown at him tonight is probably some Muggle band. So he listens to the pounding drums and accompanying clapping that just started playing, and to a man singing about something or someone called “metal guru”.

“Ok,” he answers Sirius rather lamely. The song is quite catchy, it’s just that Regulus doesn’t have a lot of references when it comes to rock music. He assumes it is rock music, based on what Sirius told him about the genre, but until now, Regulus simply had no way of listening to it and he’s not sure what makes a rock song good or bad.

“Their singer, Marc Bolan, is a bit of a rival but also a friend of Bowie,” Remus informs him. “They even recorded a song together, The Prettiest Star. Would you like to hear it?”

“Yes, sure!” Regulus says at once. Bowie, he knows. Not personally, of course, and not his music, but he knows of him. Knows that Remus is a huge fan and that Sirius likes his music a lot as well. However, apparently not enough to stay with them when Mary suggests a game.

“Alright, Remus has started a swot lecture on music. Truth or Dare, everyone!” she grins and is joined immediately not only by Sirius, James, Peter and Marlene, but also by Frank Longbottom, Alice Fortescue, Lily, Emmeline, and a few others.

Regulus isn’t interested in playing a party game with a bunch of unpredictable Gryffindors and he’s glad that Remus shares this sentiment. When the Truth or Dare crowd huddles together a couple of feet away, Remus moves to sit next to him, bringing a large cardboard box with records that he’d placed next to his armchair. The music fades out and he waves his wand, using an incantation that’s new to Regulus (Discum Mutatio) to change the vinyl. “Incipe,” Remus then says, flicking his wand, and the record starts playing the aforementioned song. It’s calmer than the previous music and Regulus thinks it sounds alright enough.

“So this is David Bowie?” he asks after a minute.

“With Marc Bolan, yes,” Remus confirms. “Bowie sings and Bolan plays the guitar. But um… You have listened to Bowie before, haven’t you?” His eyes widen in… realisation? Apprehension? Shock? Regulus isn’t sure, but he doesn’t like that look much.

“No,” he grimaces apologetically. “I couldn’t, because—”

“Wait, seriously?” Remus asks and yes, that’s definitely shock. “I mean— I guess it makes sense, from what Sirius told me, but bloody— Okay, Regulus, you have to listen to— wait!”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Regulus says, mildly entertained now, because Remus grabs his record box and searches rather frantically for something while The Prettiest Star comes to an end.

There’s cheering and catcalls from the Truth or Dare group, and Regulus briefly looks over to see Alice Fortescue and Frank Longbottom kissing quite animatedly, apparently on a dare. Feeling heat rise in his cheeks, he quickly turns his gaze away.

“So, this is Hunky Dory,” Remus says as he triumphantly pulls out another record.

Regulus rolls his eyes in amusement at the name, but returns to a more serious demeanour again when the first song starts playing. This one he likes a lot! He tells Remus so, and the boy doesn’t seem at all surprised.

“It’s called Changes,” he nods. I like it too. It’s not Bowie’s biggest success, but it’s quite catchy, isn’t it? That ch-ch-ch-ch-changes part is inspired by Birthday from The Beatles, and they were huge, so I guess a lot of people liked their music, even though they’re not my personal favourite,” he explains. Regulus isn’t sure he’s ever heard Remus talk this much at once.

“The Beatles are another band, then?”

“Merlin’s— of course you wouldn’t know them either. Sorry, Regulus, it’s obviously not your fault, but don’t let James hear you.”

“Don’t let me hear what?” inquires James, turning halfway towards them to look over.

Next to him, Sirius currently seems to be dared to stuff his own mouth with Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, to renewed cheering and whooping from the surrounding Gryffindors. However, the noise clearly hasn’t stopped James from overhearing Remus mentioning him.

“I don’t know The Beatles,” Regulus says matter-of-factly, not seeing the point in dragging out the inevitable.

“You don’t— Godric, really?”

Regulus presses his lips together and shakes his head with a shrug.

“The Beatles were extremely popular in the 60ies,” James says. “They’re split up now, that was a huge deal. You’ve never heard Help!? Or Twist And Shout? Let It Be?!”

James doesn’t appear as shocked as Remus. He seems more like he’s a second away from hijacking the record player to make Regulus listen to the songs he’s rattling off.

“Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Regulus laughs.

James’ lips curve into a grin. “Yellow Submarine?” he asks in a humorous tone, then starts singing without preamble, “We all live in a yellow submarine, yellow submarine, yellow submarine…” swinging his bent arms back and forth to the beat.

At this, Regulus’ eyebrows pull together of their own accord. “What on earth is a submarine?” It sounds like some kind of Muggle underwater house. He feels a slight churn of unease in his stomach at the thought.

Fortunately or unfortunately, however, James can’t answer because Sirius has fulfilled his dare and wants to pull his friend back into the game.

“Stop waffling about The Beatles! Truth or Dare, Jay?”

Regulus raises his brows at the nickname but doesn’t inquire further. Instead, he leans back on the sofa and continues to listen to Hunky Dory with Remus, while a few feet away, Sirius dares James to kiss Lily.

She rolls her eyes with a sigh, but offers him her cheek, which James accepts, giving her a modest peck. To his own surprise, Regulus feels his whole face heating up at this. He doesn’t understand why, because this very chaste kiss was far more harmless than Fortescue and Longbottom’s earlier snogging session. Maybe it’s because he knows James better and is simply cringing on his behalf? Regulus chooses not to think too much about this, or about kissing in general. He’s got no interest in it either way, so he closes his eyes and lets the music wash over him.

After a couple of songs, he decides that he kind of likes Bowie. Overall, his songs are calmer and a bit quieter than the noisy guitars and drums from the other bands so far, which Regulus finds nice. He’s not sure whether he’ll become a Bowie fan like Remus, but sitting on the sofa with him and listening to the music is certainly pleasant. In any case, it’s far more enjoyable than participating in that weird game, which hardly anyone seems to pick Truth in, and which has people constantly performing activities that are reckless at best and dangerous at worst, if you ask him.

Eventually, Peter turns a weird shade of green after downing three bottles of Butterbeer in quick succession. Sirius and James take him up to their dormitory after this, and the game comes to an end.

“I’m confused,” Regulus is saying to Remus, just when Sirius and James reappear and sit down in the armchairs next to them. “Robert Zimmermann is Dylan?”

According to the track list on the record sleeve, the number currently playing is called Song for Bob Dylan, and Regulus for the life of him can’t figure out whether Bowie likes or hates that man.

“Yes, Bob Dylan is the stage name of Robert Zimmermann. He’s an American who began his career as a folk singer,” Remus explains patiently. “His music isn’t really my thing, though I think Leopard-Skin-Pill-Box Hat has kind of a nice vibe.”

“Subterranean Homesick Blues isn’t too bad,” Sirius ponders. “Or Like a Rolling Stone! That one’s cool!”

Regulus will have to take their word for it, because he doesn’t know any of these songs.

“I prefer I Want You,” James contributes and starts humming a melody clashing awfully with Bowie’s Queen Bitch that’s now starting to play.

“Of course you do,” Sirius rolls his eyes and grabs a Bertie Bott’s Bean from the box on the table between them to throw it at his friend.

James picks it up from where it has fallen into his lap and puts it in his mouth. “Yum, strawberry!” he says with a cheeky grin.

They listen to one more song and then the album ends. “Ziggy Stardust next!” Sirius proclaims with an excited gleam in his eyes.

“Huh?” Regulus asks, feeling more clueless by the minute.

“The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars,” his brother answers, which does nothing to dispel Regulus’ confusion. “It’s Bowie’s new album. Andy sent it to me for my birthday and it’s an absolute dream!” Sirius gushes. “Starman, Moonage Daydream, Souffragette City, Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide…” he starts listing song titles, checking them off on his fingers.

Regulus’ lips pull into a smile. He can clearly see how happy it makes Sirius to share this with him. He had to hold back so much during the previous year, but now he can finally tell Regulus all about his favourite music and listen to it together with him. It makes Regulus quite happy, too.

“Ziggy Stardust is a huge success,” Remus tells Regulus while Sirius changes the records. “So much so that The Man Who Sold the World will be re-released soon. That’s Bowie’s album before Hunky Dory. It’ll get a new cover too, I think.”

“Why a new cover?” Regulus frowns.

“Because Bowie wears a dress on the original one,” Remus smirks, pulling another record out of his box. “Bowie’s a bit of a rebel,” he says fondly.

As Regulus takes the record Remus hands him, he must say he quite agrees. Bowie already looks somewhat feminine on the Hunky Dory cover, but The Man who Sold the World is something else entirely: The sleeve shows the singer spread out languidly on a chaise lounge. He’s wearing a long, patterned dress, and boots with shafts so high they disappear beneath the hem. Long, wavy hair frames his face and falls to his collarbones. Strangely enough, the luxurious yet slightly decaying background scenery reminds Regulus faintly of the dark corridors at Grimmauld Place. They can look kind of gloomy, no matter how well Kreacher maintains the house.

Thinking of his home, he briefly wonders what his parents would say about a man wearing a dress. Generally speaking, it would not be considered a proper garment. But then again, wizards wear robes too, and Regulus isn’t sure whether his parents would find Bowie’s choice of clothing worse than his being a Muggle.

Either way, he feels like he’s entered a whole new world. A world of rock music, bands and songs with odd names, and men in dresses. Sirius’ world. Or rather, a part of the Muggle world that Sirius has adopted for himself. Regulus smiles softly as a joyful, warm feeling bubbles up in his chest. The music is good, Muggle culture strikes him as truly fascinating, but above all, he’s glad that Sirius shares this aspect of his life with him. He’s glad and so very thankful that Sirius still lets him in, despite their different houses.

They all listen to more music together, and later there’s some dancing that Regulus and Remus watch from the sofa, but that neither of them takes part in. What Regulus does, though, is try some of Sirius’ birthday cake. It’s too sweet for his liking, but the relaxed, welcoming atmosphere as well as the cheerful and friendly company more than make up for it.

Regulus has to leave eventually, because he needs to be back in the dungeons before curfew, but he’s genuinely happy he went to celebrate with his brother, the feeling of contentment so deep that he sleeps particularly well that night.

Chapter Text

The weekend after Sirius’ birthday is the weekend of the school year’s first interhouse Quidditch match – Gryffindor vs Slytherin. During the whole day, the atmosphere is charged with a mix of nervous tension and general pre-match excitement. A wide variety of colourful insults and threats is exchanged as students of the rival houses taunt and harass each other in the school corridors. Regulus holds back from such behaviour, preferring to merely observe. But it’s virtually impossible to escape the madness, and he can’t prevent the anticipation from rubbing off on him as well.

However, Regulus isn’t bothered or annoyed by any of this in the slightest; maybe it’s out of sheer luck, but it could just as well be due to the strong focus on the match that his visit to Sirius’ party has indeed gone unnoticed by his fellow Slytherins. At least no one has asked or pestered Regulus about it, which he was relieved to notice. He’s nonetheless decided to keep on the down low for a bit and not visit the Gryffindor Quidditch practices with his brother anymore, at least for the foreseeable future. Regulus might have made an impression on Mulciber and his little gang, but he still doesn’t think it sensible to draw his mother's attention to him and Sirius spending time together. One Howler from her, and his fragile new facade towards his adversaries would be shattered.

Another aspect that encourages Regulus in his approach arises when Barty mentions not being bullied as much as before.

“I don’t know what you said to those guys exactly, but they’ve been surprisingly restrained since your little encounter,” he tells Regulus while they’re walking down to the pitch, Dorcas and Evan right behind them.

“Man, I wish I’d been there!” Evan says in an almost dreamy voice. “Our Reggie putting those pricks in their place… You should’ve given us a heads-up, mate!” He grins at Regulus, who merely rolls his eyes in response.

“It wasn’t exactly planned, you know?”

“Look!” Dorcas cuts in excitedly.

The Quidditch pitch is coming into view and with it the stands, which are already two-thirds full with students. It is a varied crowd, yet dominated by the Gryffindor colours, since even quite a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs have dressed in red and gold for the event. Regulus sighs under his breath as a heavy feeling builds in his stomach, but then he steels himself and follows his friends to sit down with the other Slytherins.

“Welcome to the first match of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin!” the commentator, a Ravenclaw boy named Howard Warren, greets the spectators a few minutes later via a magical megaphone that has his voice ringing out over the whole pitch. It’s a cold day but miraculously dry, so the stands have now filled up considerably. Regulus guesses that the particularly strong rivalry between the two houses is another contributing factor to the keen interest.

The teams enter the pitch to loud cheering. Regulus is clapping his hands as well, the sound muffled by the Slytherin gloves he’s wearing. He watches James smiling broadly and waving in the direction of the Gryffindors, and for a moment, Regulus isn’t sure which team he’s applauding for. Then, however, his good sense decides to rejoin him and he focuses on his own house team. The green-clad players don’t appear quite as cheerful as their competitors, but Regulus finds their menacing demeanour rather suitable for the occasion. After all, neither team is here to be all chummy, but to win the game.

Down on the grass, Madam Hooch lets the captains shake hands, then she blows a whistle and the players take off.

“The game starts and it’s Gryffindor in possession of the Quaffle,” Warren announces through his megaphone. “Alice Fortescue speeds down the field, dodges a Bludger from Anton Flint and zooms— Blimey! That’s a foul from Slytherin Chaser Edward Carrow!”

Loud boos erupt from all stands but Slytherin’s. Still, Regulus grimaces as he witnesses Carrow deliberately ramming his elbow into Fortescue’s side to stop her from advancing towards the goalhoops. Quidditch can be rough, yes, and a strategic foul may be justified under certain circumstances, but mindless brutality this early in a game… It’s simply tasteless and shows nothing but a lack of prowess, in his opinion.

“It’s a penalty for Gryffindor, and Fortescue gets ready to take it... She feints left, but throws the ball to the right and— Slytherin’s Keeper Dolohov misses! TEN-NIL TO GRYFFINDOR!”

The groans of the Slytherins are drowned out by loud cheers erupting from the other onlookers, particularly of course from the Gryffindors. As the game continues, Regulus alternates between scanning the air for the snitch and watching the players. However, the more he sees of the game, the clearer it becomes that Slytherin’s team relies more on playing dirty than on talent.

“Gryffindor’s captain Frank Longbottom gains the Quaffle and off he goes, ducking a Bludger from Anton Flint and— Oi! Marcus Stripe of Slytherin swings his bat at Longbottom!”

Regulus squints his eyes shut in utter disbelief. Such blatant ineptitude is far below his expectations.

“Longbottom dodges the attempt to knock him off his broom and the referee allows play to continue,” Warren comments on the proceedings.

To Regulus’ dismay, his housemates don’t seem to share his misgivings. Most of them are still cheering their team on, chanting “Sly-ther-in! Sly-ther-in! WIN! WIN! WIN!” in a confident, snappy rhythm, despite the players’ obvious lack of finesse, or even basic skill.

Most of them, except for Evan, whose appalled grimace makes him look the way Regulus feels, and Dorcas, who’s buried her face in Evan’s shoulder, clearly trying to block out the abysmal performance. The only one looking excited and amused is Barty, but after an initial moment of shock and disbelief, Regulus follows his gaze and realises that he’s not watching the game but rather Pandora, over at the stand next to theirs.

She seems completely unfussed by her surroundings and is busy drawing colourful sparkling garlands into the air with her wand. Regulus can’t fight the snort of laughter that escapes him at the sight. Pandora really is fantastic. He feels a deep, warm fondness for her spread in his chest.

“Slytherin Chaser Elladora Bulstrode snatches the Quaffle from Longbottom. But Fortescue immediately regains Gryffindor’s possession of the ball! She speeds off, and— oh! She’s stopped by Flint! But that’s a neat pass to James Potter! The new Gryffindor Chaser is an excellent find of Frank Longbottom.”

At Warren’s commentary, Regulus’ focus snatches back onto the game. He watches James belting off up the field with rapt attention.

“Potter dodges a Bludger sent his way by Stripe, he’s got a clear field ahead now, Dolohov tries to cover his third hoop, but— too late, POTTER SCORES!”

Regulus fights the instinct to cheer, biting his tongue instead to keep himself from grinning. What in Merlin’s name is wrong with him? While James flies a loop-the-loop to celebrate his first goal for his house team, Regulus pulls the green and silver scarf tighter around his neck, shakes his head to clear it and turns his attention to the Slytherin Seeker, David Gamp.

“The game continues with a score of 20-nil for Gryffindor,” Warren states while Regulus’ eyes keep drifting from Gamp to Gryffindor’s Seeker Sarah Bell, and over the whole field, the air, the ground, everywhere the Snitch could possibly be hiding.

Frank Longbottom manages another goal for Gryffindor rather quickly, then nothing much exciting happens for a bit. There’s one goal attempt from Emma Vanity that has all Slytherins tense up in excitement, but it ends with them collectively groaning when Gryffindor’s Keeper deflects the Quaffle with the very tips of her fingers.

However, Slytherin does score a goal eventually; Regulus supposes anyone can be lucky sometimes:

“Potter passes the Quaffle to Fortescue, but Slytherin Chaser Bulstrode intercepts! Slytherin in possession of the Quaffle, Bulstrode dodges a Bludger from Daniel McKinnon, that’s a nice dive around Gryffindor Beater Charlie Sloper, no one’s left to block her now, Bulstrode’s speeding off towards the hoops, she throws the Quaffle and— GOAL TO SLYTHERIN!”

As Warren shouts the new score of 30-10 into his megaphone, Regulus cheers with his housemates, trying hard to get into the spirit. It’s not easy to see his team struggle like this, knowing that he’ll be one of the seven players next year. But not all hope is lost yet – Slytherin can still win easily if Gamp catches the Snitch.

Just when Regulus has this thought and the game resumes, he spots it: A flash of gold a few feet away from the Hufflepuff stand. The tiny golden ball flutters and darts back and forth, and Regulus fights hard to keep himself from calling out to Gamp, who’s looking in the opposite direction. It doesn’t make a difference, though – Sarah Bell has already seen the Snitch and zooms off towards it.

“Gryffindor’s Seeker Bell has just gone into a dive!” Warren alerts the crowd excitedly. “Has she spotted something? YES! There’s the Snitch, and she’s going after it! Gamp is on her heels, but she has a considerable lead! Stripe aims a Bludger at her and— MISSES! Bell’s almost there, she— SHE’S GOT IT! She’s caught the Snitch! GRYFFINDOR WINS! Gryffindor wins the first game of the year 180-10!”

Tumultuous cheers fill the cold air as the Gryffindors in the stands hug each other, the players meeting in mid-air, clapping each other’s backs and cheering as well, while the Slytherin team sinks to the ground, defeated. Anton Flint angrily throws his bat onto the grass, but Regulus watches James, who bumps his fist into the air and shouts something to his teammates, a broad grin lighting up his entire face.

So Slytherin lost. A nagging feeling of disappointment settles in Reglus’ gut. He does not look forward to the next study group meeting, where he expects he’ll have to endure quite a few taunts about today’s performance. However, somewhere deep inside him, he can’t deny feeling a little happy, if not for James, then certainly for Sirius.

Regulus is on his way to said study group meeting the next day when his path is derailed by hushed voices. They’re coming from a secluded alcove in the corridor’s outer wall. He stops to listen and realises that he knows one of the voices, the one that’s whispering to someone who is… sobbing?

Slowly, he steps closer, peaking around the alcove’s edge to spot not one but two of his friends, huddled together on a stone bench.

“Dorcas? What’s wrong?” he asks quietly, moving into full view.

Pandora has her arms around Dorcas, who’s clearly been crying. Her eyes are rimmed red, and she’s holding a balled-up handkerchief. When Regulus speaks, both look up at him.

“Reg, hey,” Dorcas says, sniffling once more, but she’s already composing herself. “It’s nothing, I’m alright. Talked to Pandora and…” she trails off with a shrug.

“She was feeling a little homesick,” Pandora explains in a soothing voice, gently stroking a hand over Dorcas’ back. “I comforted her.” The two girls share one last smile before they break apart.

“Homesick?” Regulus asks, sitting down next to Dorcas. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?”

“I don’t think so, but thanks,” Dorcas replies, still looking rather sad. It pains Regulus to see her like this and not be able to help her.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Reg, I’m sure. You’re helping already because you’re there. Not just now, but in general. I’m glad to have you as a friend, and Barty and Evan. And you, of course,” Dorcas says, smiling at Pandora again.

The blonde girl returns the smile. “Of course. I feel the same way, you know? I’m glad I found you all as friends. Sadly, the people in my own house… They’re nice to me in a civil sort of way, but I think they find me a bit odd. Except for Xeno, but he’s not in my year, so during classes, I’m pretty much on my own.”

“I know what you mean,” Dorcas tells her. “I have the lads,” she says with a nod at Regulus, “but the girls from my year… Well, let me repeat my earlier statement – I’m glad I have Reg, Barty and Evan.”

A deep crease settles between Regulus’ brows. “So you’re both homesick, because… of the other girls?” he asks in genuine bewilderment.

He already knew that Pandora has found only one Ravenclaw friend so far – Xenophilius, an unusual but friendly bloke, whom she sometimes tells Regulus and the others funny anecdotes about during Herbology. He also knew that Dorcas hangs out with Barty, Evan and himself most of the time and that she hasn’t made friends with any of the Slytherin girls from their year. However, to Regulus, neither is a reason to feel homesick. He’s not judging, it just baffles him. He does cherish the friends he has, and he’s glad that Sirius is close, but even if he were on his own, he’s not sure how his home would make a difference. That’s what you miss when you’re homesick, right? Your home.

“Well, sure…” Dorcas says slowly. “But also because I miss my parents. And my rat, Nibbles.”

“Don’t you miss your parents as well, Regulus?” Pandora asks, cocking her head in wonder.

“Um…” Regulus hesitates. Should he miss his parents? Is there anything wrong with him if he doesn’t?

“It’s no use, Dora,” Dorcas says with a light snort of laughter. “The boys would never admit to feeling homesick. Only over their dead bodies. Barty’s the same; I asked him about missing his parents the other day, and he got all shifty and changed the subject.”

The girls both roll their eyes with a rather fond expression, and Regulus decides that he’ll let them keep thinking this. Privately, he reasons that he’s simply more self-reliant and independent than Dorcas or Pandora. Maybe it’s because he’s been taught to present himself with confidence from an early age. Not that he always feels confident, but his parents want him to, so they’ve always treated him more like the scion of the House of Black than like a child. And that’s a good thing, because he’s not the one sitting here feeling homesick and crying.

Regulus shrugs and allows himself an indulgent smile. “What can I say, you girls appear to have it all figured out.”

Pandora grins while Dorcas laughs again. It’s more open and carefree than the slightly repressed snort from before, and Regulus’ chest feels light that Dorcas is back to being herself again.

“Thank you both,” Dorcas says, looking between Regulus and Pandora. “It’s nice to know I’m not alone in this, and thank you for making me laugh, Reg.” She smiles at him.

“I’m glad I could help,” he answers, returning her smile and standing, “I have to go to Remus’ study group now, but if you ever… you know, need to talk or something…” he trails off, leaving the sentence unfinished.

Dorcas understands anyway. “Thank you, Regulus. I appreciate this,” she replies with a reassuring nod. “Now hop along! I feel better again, and you don’t want to be late, do you?”

“Right. I’ll see you later. You too, Dora!”

Contrary to his apprehensions, Regulus doesn’t have to endure a lot of taunts during the study group meeting. As a matter of fact, Remus doesn’t seem to be too interested in Gryffindor’s victory at all.

“I mean, of course I’m glad we won, I’m happy James did well and everything, but it’s not like… I don’t know, finding a cure for dragon pox or something, you know? There are more important things in life than Quidditch,” Remus shrugs when Stephen Williams from Ravenclaw asks the Gryffindors how satisfied they are with their team’s win.

They’re all seated around a table in the library, but haven’t started talking about their study topics yet.

“Don’t let your friends hear that,” Lily laughs, nudging Remus playfully in the side.

“Yeah, Peter chewed my ear off about it,” Emmeline complains, but her smile betrays that she doesn’t really mean it.

“So you’re friends with Peter?” Regulus asks her, his curiosity piqued. He feels like he hasn’t completely understood the dynamics of Sirius’ extended circle of friends yet, but he’s interested in finding out more.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Emmeline drawls, “We get along well, and I was available at the time.”

“Was this on Monday?” Remus wonders, “Because Lily and I were busy with our Potions essay that evening, and James and Sirius were in detention, so I reckon Peter had to find someone else to share his… er… enthusiasm with.”

“That’s certainly one way to put it,” Emmeline laughs brightly, immediately covering her mouth with her hand afterwards and looking around as if afraid Madam Pince might come running and scold her.

“Why was Sirius in detention?” Regulus asks, frowning.

“Because he and James jinxed Snape’s hair pink during Potions,” Remus says, his lips pulling into a badly disguised smirk.

Regulus’ eyes go wide, “They did? But I didn’t see—”

“Professor Slughorn changed it back immediately. Everybody laughed and it wasn’t much of a fuss. It did disrupt the lesson, though, hence the detention,” Remus explains.

“I think it is a serious matter to bully someone like that for no reason,” Lily states primly, eyeing Remus with a stern expression. “Severus was really upset about it. He most certainly didn’t laugh and neither did I.”

“Speaking of pranks, how about that Bat-Bogey Hex that affected the whole Hufflepuff History of Magic class the other day?” Stephen Williams interjects before Remus can reply.

Regulus has heard about that – the news spread like fiendfyre through the whole school. At the time, he and his friends had merely regarded it as a joke, possibly an accident. But now, in connection with Sirius and James’ pranking misdeeds, it occurs to Regulus that it might have been an act of revenge. Eric Stevens is a Hufflepuff, isn’t he?

“It was the third-year class. They told everyone about it later that day in our common room. It was horrible!” Ian Bones says to the fervent nods of his fellow Hufflepuff Sarah Wenlock.

“Yes, apparently, it came out of nowhere and Professor Binns didn’t even notice at first!” she tells them, shuddering at the thought. “Took Madam Pomfrey all afternoon to put everyone back to normal.”

“For all I know, Sirius and James are behind that one too,” Lily says, sharing Regulus’ unspoken suspicion. “That’s clearly bullying behaviour, and if you ask me, something as devious and cowardly as this has their names written all over it!”

Remus’ eyebrows fly up, “Now, now, Miss Evans, are you telling me you’re accusing two of my best friends without the slightest evidence?”

“Oh, be quiet,” she glares at him, but her mouth twitches slightly.

“Was this the class Eric Stevens is in?” Regulus looks at Sarah and Ian for an answer. They both nod. “Wasn’t he rude to you, Remus?”

“But even so, that’s no reason to jinx an entire class, is it?” Lily flares up.

“Of course not,” Regulus says quickly. “I just think… Maybe they wanted to teach Stevens a lesson, but the spell went wrong?”

Lily’s eyebrows pull up so far they look like they’re about to vanish in her hairline. “Excuse me? You’re not justifying your brother’s actions, are you?”

Remus clears his throat. “The actions we don’t know stem from Sirius,” he reminds her. “Why don’t we all calm down and start studying? That’s what we’re all here for, right?”

There’s a general murmur of assent from the others, but Lily’s scrutinising gaze doesn’t leave Regulus.

“Hey, I didn’t jinx anyone,” he says to her, raising his hands placatingly, “I’m just here to study!”

She frowns slightly and grumbles under her breath, but ultimately takes out her book and some parchment to focus on the tasks ahead.

After this, their study session passes rather uneventfully, and Regulus uses the time to perfect his match-to-needle transfiguration without Madam Pince noticing. While he practises, he can’t help feeling a little proud of his brother. Regulus, too, would take revenge for Barty, Evan, Dorcas or Pandora without a second thought, and probably for Remus as well. He’s also fairly sure that Sirius and James had their reasons for hexing Snape’s hair. In any case, that git absolutely deserved it.

It goes without saying that Regulus does not mention any of this to Lily.

The next day in Charms, Regulus uses the general chaos of everyone practising Nox and Lumos to ask Dorcas how she’s doing. She appeared to be her usual self again during meals and in the Slytherin common room, but he still wants to make sure.

“Everything alright?” he asks, trying to sound casual.

“Nox!” She extinguishes the light of the small lantern in front of her and gives him a mock-exasperated look before indulging him, “Yes, Reg, thank you. I appreciate your concern, truly, but I’m fine. I had a bout of homesickness, and it passed. It happens.” Dorcas shrugs as her lips spread into a smile, “I really look forward to the Christmas hols, though. How about you? Do you have any plans for the break?”

“Oh, um…” Regulus hesitates briefly. His family doesn’t exactly celebrate Christmas, but for all intents and purposes… “Yes, I have plans. I’ll spend the Christmas holidays at home with my family. We’ll have a festive dinner at our house. My cousins, aunts and uncles will be there too.”

“Oh, that’s lovely! A big family celebration, then?” Dorcas sounds genuinely excited. Regulus is happy to see her cheerful again and wouldn’t want to dampen the mood.

Evan sees no reason for restraint, however. “Don’t get him wrong, Dorcas, those gatherings aren’t exactly fun parties in the old pure-blood families, right, Reg?” he interjects from where he’s sitting between Regulus and Barty.

“Well, no. Not exactly,” Regulus admits, suppressing a sigh. “It’s actually rather boring. The food’s always good, though.”

The celebratory dinner at Grimmauld Place is usually nothing short of spectacular, thanks to Kreacher’s weeks-long preparations. However, the hours of sitting at the dinner table while the adults get increasingly agitated about “the decline of the time-honoured ways” the more elf-made wine flows, are nothing to write home about, if he’s being honest.

“That’s something, isn’t it?” Barty grins. “Imagine if the food was bad, too!“

A small laugh escapes Regulus at this. He reckons Barty’s got a point. Before he can tell him so, however, Evan cuts him short.

“Do you celebrate Christmas, then?” he asks, frowning, “I’d have pegged your family to be more traditional.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Dorcas’ eyes shift between Evan and Regulus, “Isn’t Christmas traditional?”

“Of course it is, and I know that most wizarding families in Britain have taken on the customs and rituals that come with it. However, some old pure-blood families, like mine, actually prefer to celebrate the Winter Solstice in honour of Hecate,” Regulus explains.

Evan nods in a “That’s what I thought” sort of way, but Dorcas’ face positively lights up at Regulus’ words. “I see, that’s cool! I mean, my family does celebrate Christmas, but in the spring, we also honour the goddess Mut, for example. You know, in remembrance of our Sudanese ancestors.”

“Oh. Right.” Regulus isn’t sure why, but he feels kind of relieved that he’s not the only one with a family revering ancient gods and goddesses. Maybe it’s because Sirius told him that all of his friends solely celebrate Christmas. In any case, Regulus was a tad insecure about how his friends would view his family’s way of celebrating. Evidently, he needn’t have worried.

“How about you then?” he asks Barty and Evan, “Christmas all the way?”

“Absolutely!” Barty replies at once. “Christmas decorations, Christmas tree, Christmas dinner, Christmas presents… Mind you, our house-elf takes care of most of it, but it’s still nice. My mum and I usually decorate our tree together.” A fond smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, while his eyes take on a rather wistful look.

“Same here. No house-elf and maybe not quite as much Christmas spirit,” Evan says with an amused glance at Barty, “But yeah, we have Christmas dinner and presents as well, and mum always gets a Christmas tree, with fairies and everything. Dinner’s a bit formal, but the food’s good, just like with you,” he nods at Regulus.

“Oh, Christmas dinner!” Dorcas says dreamily. “My mum makes this delicious lamb dish with flavoured rice on the side, and the most amazing trifle for dessert! It’s just me and my parents, but we have so much fun, because my dad and I help my mum with the cooking. Well, I guess, she would say we distract her and steal food, but we all laugh a lot, and then we eat until we’re too full to move. At some point, my parents always start telling stories about our family, about what life in Sudan was like and everything. It’s my absolute favourite holiday!”

“Sounds wonderful,” Evan grins. “I look forward to Christmas too. It’s the only occasion my father takes a day off from work. ‘Christmas is a time for family’,” he says, imitating his father’s voice.

“Are you alright, Reg?” Dorcas asks, with mild concern in her eyes.

“Hm? Oh, sure, I’m fine.” He tries to pull his lips into a reassuring smile, but he’s not entirely sure he’s succeeding.

While Regulus listened to his friends talking about Christmas with their families, he felt a sensation building in his chest and stomach that he could not place. Like something was off, is off, but he has no idea what. Between the three of them, Evan’s celebrations seem closest to what Regulus’ family does, even though the Blacks don’t have a tree and Christmas decorations, for obvious reasons. And it’s not like Regulus misses having a tree or decorations. Or presents, for that matter. Just like his friends, he looks forward to going home – to seeing his own private bedroom again, and Kreacher. He looks forward to telling his parents about school and his accomplishments so far. To the excellent food, too. So why would any of it feel off?

He pushes these thoughts aside and tries to focus on his Charms work. The flickering lights all around him are starting to give him a headache.

“I’m fine,” he repeats ultimately, “I just think we should put more effort into practising our spellwork. Lumos!” he flicks his wand to ignite his lantern. “Nox! Besides,” he continues, looking back up at his friends, “I’m not sure why we’re talking about Christmas. It’s still weeks away!”

“Oh, Reggie,” Barty says, sounding amused, “you know how it is, time always passes so fast! Lumos!”

Chapter Text

It quickly transpires that Barty was completely right. Time indeed passes fast, and soon November is almost over. With it, Regulus' first term at Hogwarts is nearing its end, and he’s already learned some valuable things: Surprisingly enough, the Gryffindors he’s met, as well as the friends he’s made, showed him that who you are as a person might be more important than your last name. Mulciber, Avery and Snape – inadvertently – taught him self-assertion, from Sirius, but mainly Remus, he picked up a few things about the Muggle world, and of course, Regulus learned a great deal during his lessons.

So far, he’s achieved good results in all his classes, even in Defence Against the Dark Arts – a subject he’d initially worried about, believing that an offspring of the Black family couldn’t be naturally cut out for top marks. Regulus’ Transfiguration and Charms work are more than solid too, as are his abilities in Flying and Herbology. In History of Magic, he’s one of the few to stay awake and take notes, and Astronomy practically comes as easily to him as breathing. However, Regulus’ best subject undoubtedly is Potions. His penchant for brewing draughts and concoctions has only paid off and intensified since September, causing Professor Slughorn to burst into raptures of praise in almost every lesson.

“Terrific, Mister Black, as usual!” Slughorn exclaims, full of enthusiasm, when he peeks into Regulus’ cauldron. The horned slugs for his Cure for Boils are gently stewing away while Regulus is busy preparing the dried nettles.

“Thank you, Professor,” he says, looking up at the teacher with a polite smile.

“I assume you will remember to take the Cauldron off the fire before adding the porcupine quills?” Slughorn inquires, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards like he already knows the answer will not disappoint.

Regulus is aware that he’s being tested, but he plays along. “Of course, Sir. We wouldn’t want to risk an explosion of acid lava that would lead to those boils we aim to cure in the first place, would we?”

As expected, Slughorn beams in delight. “Very good, Mister Black, very good indeed! Ten points to Slytherin!”

Regulus thanks him again, thinking that’ll be it and Slughorn will move on to Barty next. This assumption is wrong, though.

“Mister Black, I’ve been meaning to ask you, I’ll be holding a Christmas Party on Saturday after next, right before the last week of school starts. I would be ever so pleased if you’d care to join the gathering. It will essentially be an extension of the Slug Club, with a few associates of mine attending as well.”

“Of course, Sir, it would be my pleasure,” Regulus answers with a nod of thanks.

Slughorn clasps his hands together. “Excellent! You will grace me with your presence as well, Mister Crouch? Mister Rosier?”

“Oh, sure!” Barty grins. Regulus clears his throat to hide a laugh. He knows by now that the only thing Barty actually enjoys about the Slug Club meetings is the food.

Slughorn does not know this, or maybe he simply doesn’t care. He expresses his satisfaction once more when Evan also accepts. "Marvellous! The dress code is formal,” Slughorn informs them. “So make sure to wear your dress robes. Oh, and every invitee is allowed to bring a guest. This is not mandatory, however.” He gives them a conspiratorial wink, then moves on to examine the potions of some Gryffindors.

“Drat, I didn’t bring my dress robes,” Barty says quietly with a roll of his eyes. “Oh well, I’ll have Winky send them to me. Did you bring any?” He asks Regulus.

“Yes, just in case I’d need them. You, Ev?”

“Yeah, same here,” Evan replies, then turns his gaze to Dorcas. “Fancy coming with, Dorc?” he grins at her.

For the fraction of a second, Regulus feels the tiniest bit of disappointment, because he was just about to ask Dorcas to the party as well. But the feeling quickly dissipates – he only wanted her to be there with the three of them, and this will now be achieved.

Or will it?

“I don’t know,” she says slowly. “I don’t exactly own an evening dress. Do you think I could wear a ceremonial Sudanese gown?”

“That would be spectacular!” Barty says, his eyes wide. “I’d love to see your ceremonial gown. Did you bring it with you to school?”

“Well, no, but if you’re so excited about it, I’ll have my mum send it to me,” Dorcas replies, her lips spreading into a smile.

Regulus is already looking forward to seeing her attire. He imagines something colourful and festive, but maybe he’s on the completely wrong track here.

His musings are interrupted by the cauldron of a Gryffindor emitting green smoke and a loud hissing noise – exactly that effect Regulus wants to avoid at all costs. So he decides to let himself be surprised by Dorcas’ outfit and turns his attention back to his own cauldron.

After lessons that day, Barty and Dorcas are busy with their letters home, and Evan is writing an essay on the Soap Blizzard of 1378 for Professor Binns, so Regulus uses the time to owl another letter to Andromeda.

Since their first timid exchange, they’ve written a few short letters back and forth; Regulus didn’t have a lot of time due to his school work, and he assumes his cousin is generally rather occupied as well. After all, she’s pregnant, as he learned from her last letter. Other than that, she and Regulus mainly wrote about more or less superficial facts. However, after Andromeda sent Sirius his birthday present, Regulus told her a bit about the corresponding party and his first encounter with Muggle music. Her amused but friendly reaction gave him reason to hope that their rather trivial communication will deepen over time. In his current letter, he tells her that he’ll be home for the Christmas holidays. She probably already figured as much, but Regulus still wants to make sure that she won’t expect any letters from him during that time.

Just when he turns a corner on his way to the castle’s exit, a bewildering sight meets his eyes. Some might argue that Pandora Delacroix, with her general air of otherworldliness, is always a bit of a curious appearance, but not Regulus. He’s grown so used to and fond of her by now that it needs a particularly unusual display of oddity from her to flabbergast him. The scene in front of him certainly qualifies as such. Pandora is on all fours, crawling around on the corridor’s stone floor and emitting strange clicking noises with her tongue.

“Pandora?” He asks cautiously. “Wh— What are you doing?”

“Regulus!” Her whole face lights up when she notices him. “I’m looking for Pilfertucks,” she says, getting up from the ground.

Unfortunately, this explanation does nothing to mitigate Regulus’ confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

“Pilfertucks,” she repeats serenely. “Xeno told me about them. They’re tiny creatures that steal objects of all sorts from unsuspecting victims and hide them. A couple of my things are gone, and Xeno said that if I find one Pilfertuck, it can lead me to others. This way I can find all my lost items again, see?” She smiles expectantly at Regulus.

He’s clearly supposed to reply something along the lines of how this sounds like a smart idea, but he can absolutely not bring himself to do it. Whether Pandora had simply been scatterbrained or whether a person took her stuff, he doesn’t know. However, what Regulus can say with absolute certainty is that Pilfertucks were not involved. Given everything he’s learned about Xeno so far, and Pandora's readiness to believe in the most implausible things, he’s very sure those creatures do not exist.

Regulus knows neither of them means any harm by it – Xenophilius Lovegood is simply out of this world on a good day, with a proneness to tell you about the most ridiculous beliefs at any given point, and Pandora is just extremely open-minded. Generally speaking, Regulus appreciates openness and tolerance, especially since he’s found it can benefit himself, but Pandora takes it to a whole different level. Both she and Xeno are so gullible that they tend to evoke a sense of protectiveness in Regulus, and he wonders who’s really behind Pandora’s lost objects.

“Do you need help?” he asks. Maybe this can lead him to a better understanding of her belongings’ whereabouts.

“Oh, no, thanks. That’s very kind of you, Xeno offered as well, but I’m actually a little curious to discover a Pilfertuck now, and I’m worried, too many people at once might scare them off, you see?”

Knowing that arguing will be useless, Regulus takes a deep breath to keep himself from sighing or rolling his eyes. “Ok, alright. I’ll get out of your hair then. I was about to send a letter anyway.”

He’s already half-turned to walk away when an idea strikes him.

“Hey, Dora?”

“Yes?” Her face is open and interested, almost eager.

“You know those Slug Club gatherings Evan, Barty and I told you about, right? Slughorn is holding a Christmas party on the 9th, and we’re allowed to bring a guest. Evan asked Dorcas, and I just thought, it’d be nice if we could all go. As a whole friend group, you know? So would you like to be my companion?”

“Oh!” Her mouth falls into a perfect O-shape while her brows lift high in surprise and delight. “I would love to be your companion and come to the party as part of a whole friend group! Thank you for inviting me, Regulus!”

“Of course,” he replies kindly, even though his heart aches a little. It’s just a Christmas party, and while he can see that receiving an invitation is a nice thing, her reaction seems to be a little much.

“Dress code is formal, I hope that’s not an issue?”

“No, no, it won’t be,” she says airily. “I'll have a look through my clothes and see if I have something suitable. If not, my parents can surely send me a dress.”

“Right, okay. That’s great, I’m glad you’ll be coming too, Dora. Now I have to go and send my letter, though. Good luck finding your stuff. If you change your mind and want my help, you know where to find me.”

She nods, smiling placidly. “Yes, I know. Thank you, Regulus.” With that, she lowers herself onto her hands and knees again, resuming the clicking sounds.

With a low sigh and small shake of his head, he leaves Pandora to her endeavours and goes to owl his letter.

Just as quickly as November, the week and a half leading up to the party positively fly by. Regulus’ days are packed with lessons, studying and homework. During the long, dark December evenings, he sometimes accepts Evan’s challenge to a game of Wizard Chess, but other than that, whenever he finds the time, Regulus grabs a book from the library to devour it right there or curls up in one of the leather armchairs by the fire in the Slytherin common room to read.

It’s on one such evening, the day before Slughorn’s Christmas party, when Regulus is losing himself in a thrilling tale about wizarding pirates, that he’s interrupted mid-sentence. Why in Salazar’s name can’t people let him read in peace?

“Hey, Black!”

Looking up from his book, his gaze meets that of Dominicus Wilkes. So far, Barty, Evan and Regulus coexisted peacefully, with him, both sides keeping their distance. After all, Wilkes had made it unmistakably clear that he doesn’t appreciate the company of his three dormmates, so Regulus is now at a loss as to why Wilkes approaches him. Their system is working just fine, isn’t it?

“Wilkes,” he acknowledges curtly.

The other boy nods in response. Wilkes is regarding him cautiously, but with clear disapproval, maybe even contempt. At least, the way he slightly narrows his eyes and the faint scrunch of his nose leave no other interpretation for Regulus.

“I just wanted to let you know that I witnessed your confrontation with Argenteus, Cenwig and Severus a couple of weeks ago,” Wilkes begins in a serious tone. It’s not exactly hostile, but Regulus can tell that whatever follows, Wilkes means business. “I do not condone your behaviour and I’m on their side.” He pauses, and when Regulus doesn’t react in any way, concludes, “That’s all. I just wanted to be very clear about this.”

Regulus blinks once, unsure whether to laugh or simply stand up and walk away. Figuring that neither is a favourable option, he decides on a different course of action.

Looking up at Wilkes, he aims to let his face match the bored tone of his voice, “Will that be all?” He easily leans back in his armchair.

It seems to be working, because for a moment – and to Regulus’ satisfaction – the other boy seems a little taken aback. Before he can answer, Regulus continues speaking, “Your input is received. It would not have been necessary, because it was already obvious, or at least strongly implied. However, while we’re getting things straight – Seeing as there isn’t much we can do about our living situation, I am prepared to remain civil towards you as long as you extend the same courtesy. However, you may rest assured that I have no issues at all to adopt a firmer stance if need be.”

He searches Wilkes’ face for a second to make sure that his message has landed. When the other boy merely tightens his jaw and gives the tiniest, stiff nod, Regulus turns his attention back to his book.

“Right. Glad we cleared that up,” Wilkes mumbles eventually and walks away.

Regulus’ gaze is focused on his book, but he isn’t taking in the words. Suppressing a sigh, he asks himself whether this is how it’ll always be. Will he have to defend and prove himself for the entirety of his time at school, or will encounters like this cease at some point? Does he perhaps need to act even more assertively?

“It’s a game we have to play.”

Maybe, probably, that’s exactly what he needs to do. However, Regulus decides that he’s “played” enough for one evening, closes his book and rises from the armchair to go to bed early. After all, tomorrow will be a late night for sure, with Slughorn’s party.

The nightmares that Regulus had been accustomed to at home have become much less frequent since he came to Hogwarts. He still had one or two, but fortunately, they were not as intense as the one at the beginning of the school year. At least, no one came checking on him again, and Regulus does think Barty would have done, if he had noticed anything.

Tonight, he doesn’t have a nightmare, but he still can’t fall asleep, his thoughts revolving around his quarrel with Wilkes. Even though Regulus was the first of the four Slytherin first-years to go to bed tonight, the other three fell asleep long before him. Or so he thinks, until he hears suspicious rustling noises coming from the direction of Barty’s bed.

At first, he assumes that Barty is simply having a restless sleep, but after a little while, Regulus can hear a muffled, frustrated huff. Frowning, he sits up, grabs his wand from under his pillow and carefully pulls back the curtains around his four-poster. His bare feet hit the cold stone floor, then he silently pads over to his friend’s bed.

“Barty?” he asks cautiously, trying to peek through the small gap in the boy’s curtains.

In the faint greenish light of the moon above the lake, significantly dimmed by the thick fabric, Regulus can just make out Barty’s silhouette. He seems to have heard his name, though, and answers equally quietly.

“Reg?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

The sheets rustle again as Barty sits and pulls the curtains open. “Wanna come in?”

Regulus nods and climbs into bed next to his friend, pulling the curtains shut behind him again. They’ll still have to whisper to not wake Evan or Wilkes, but the heavy material should stifle their voices enough to talk, if they keep them low.

“Are you alright?” Regulus asks. He can’t see much of Barty’s face, but he doesn’t need to; the slight quiver in Barty’s voice says it all.

“I’m not sure.”

Regulus has no idea how to respond to this. But when Barty doesn’t say anything else, he feels the need to break the silence, “Did you have a… bad dream or—”

“Nah,” Barty interrupts him at last. “Just… couldn’t sleep.”

Well, at least Regulus is now a tiny bit wiser. “Can I… Is there anything I can do?” he asks, even though he’s completely at sea about how he could possibly help Barty fall asleep.

He might be able to brew a sleeping draught, but not here in their dormitory, and certainly not in the middle of the night. He doesn’t know any sleeping spells, either; he’s not even sure such a thing exists. However, Barty answers his question with a proposal that Regulus didn’t see coming.

“Yeah, you could— I mean… Would you stay here? Sleep in my bed with me?”

“Oh.”

Regulus cringes at the surprise in his own voice. He sounds quite unwilling, but he’s genuinely just taken aback, because he hadn’t expected this. It does kind of make sense, though – he himself slept better on countless nights at Grimmauld Place because Sirius slept in the same bed as him.

“I know it sounds stupid, and you don’t have to, obviously,” Barty says quickly. “It’s just that— When I can’t sleep at home, it helps me when Grim sleeps in my bed – my crup, you know? Now, obviously you’re not a crup, but—”

He falls silent when Regulus carefully places a hand on his arm to calm him down. “It’s fine, Barty, I can sleep here with you.” Barty had been there for him as well, hadn’t he?

“Really?”

Again, Regulus doesn’t need to see Barty’s face to hear the relief in his voice. Sharing a bed with his friend might help himself sleep better too, if Regulus is being honest.

“Yes, really. Scoot over!”

Barty pulls back his duvet in invitation, and Regulus crawls underneath it. As he tucks his wand away under the pillow, he’s surprised but at the same time not, to feel Barty’s wand lying there as well.

“Thank you for doing this,” Barty says softly, once Regulus has made himself comfortable next to him.

The boys are lying side by side now, both on their backs, and Regulus can feel the warmth radiating off Barty’s body. It’s not quite the same as it always was with Sirius, because he would often wrap Regulus in his arms, a habit they’d been following since early childhood. However, Regulus thinks that would be awkward with Barty, or inappropriate. But then he feels Barty’s hand softly brushing against his own – an accident because Barty is shifting slightly.

Regulus freezes and senses Barty tensing up next to him as well. Still, after a brief pause, Barty tentatively nudges his finger against the back of Regulus’ hand. The intentional touch zings through him like a shock, but not an unpleasant one. He responds by hesitantly turning his hand. Barty follows suit, and both boys gingerly entwine their fingers, pressing their palms against each other’s.

To his own surprise, once it’s done and they’re lying hand in hand, Regulus feels lighter, like a weight has been lifted off his whole body.

“Why can’t you sleep?” he whispers, turning his face towards Barty’s, whose head is angled to the side as well.

It takes a moment for him to answer, but when he does, his breath tickles the skin of Regulus’ nose. He can smell the faint scent of toothpaste in it.

“I think I’m nervous to go home over Christmas,” he admits, his voice barely audible.

“Why?” Regulus breathes back.

Another pause, then Barty says, “I look forward to going home, I do. I look forward to seeing my mum and Winky, and Grim, of course. My dad, though… He’s strict. I worry that he’ll scold me… pressure me… He wanted me in Ravenclaw, but I’m not. He wants me to excel in school, and I am good, I know that. I just—” Barty swallows once, before he continues, “I worry it might not be enough for him. That I’m not enough.”

Now it’s Regulus, who needs a moment to compose an answer. He knew some of this already, and in a way, he can relate. He looks forward to going home as well, but he can’t deny that he’s slightly apprehensive, too.

Regulus’ concern revolves mainly around Sirius, because he’s usually the one being scolded or punished by their parents. He’s always been louder and more rebellious than Regulus, but it got worse since he started at Hogwarts. And most unfortunately – worryingly, even – the punishments have since gotten worse as well.

Of course, his parents approve of Regulus’ Hogwarts House, yet the pressure that Barty mentioned is very real for him, too. He feels its weight in various ways, but he hopes that if he plays the game well enough, as Narcissa would probably phrase it, his parents will be appeased and leave him and Sirius be.

“I get it,” he ultimately says to Barty, because it is as simple as that.

Regulus feels his hand being squeezed gently. He returns the gesture, a pleasant warmth spreading from his fingers through his arm and right into his chest.

“Thanks again, Reg.”

Instead of saying anything back, Regulus simply squeezes Barty’s hand again. Then he turns his head to face the ceiling and closes his eyes, letting drowsiness creep up on him. He’s positive that he’ll be able to fall asleep now, but there’s one thing Regulus needs to tell his friend before they both drift off.

“Barty?”

A beat.

“Yes?”

“You’re more than enough.”

They share another hand squeeze, but after this, both boys stay silent for the rest of the night.

When Regulus wakes up the next morning, he feels particularly well-rested. He’s curled up on his side, his hand now lying next to Barty’s, who’s still (or again?) on his back. For a moment, Regulus just watches him sleep peacefully and breathe evenly. He doesn’t want to wake him, but he needs to go to the bathroom. Before he can come up with a plan, though, Barty shifts and turns his head with a yawn, his gaze settling on Regulus.

“Morning,” Barty smiles. “Slept well?”

A certain ease spreads through Regulus that things don’t seem to be weird between them. “I did,” he replies, smiling back. “You?”

“Yup, me too. Thanks to you,” Barty winks.

“Glad to be of service,” Regulus snorts and sits up, grabbing his wand to get out of bed. He’s about to pull back the curtains when he hesitates.

“Um… What if someone sees…” he trails off, waving his hand vaguely between himself, Barty and the bed.

Barty frowns, a concerned look in his eyes. “Dunno… I mean… I don’t think Evan would care, would he?”

“But Wilkes, though?” Regulus asks, biting his bottom lip.

Barty flashes him a shaky grin. “Screw Wilkes, right?”

Regulus ponders his options. He has to get out of here eventually, and if someone sees… he can always tell the truth, or most of it anyway – Barty needed a friend, he was there to help, and if anyone’s got a problem with that, Regulus is prepared to give them a piece of his mind.

“Right…”

The moment Regulus opens the four-poster’s curtains, Evan re-enters the dormitory from the adjoining bathroom. He pulls up his brows in surprise when their eyes meet.

“Everything okay?” he asks, looking from Regulus to Barty, who is sticking his head out of his bed as well.

“Yeah, I just— I couldn’t sleep, so Reg kept me company,” Barty explains.

“Oh… Okay, cool,” Evan shrugs and goes about his business.

Grateful beyond belief that Evan doesn’t seem to find anything strange in the situation, Regulus finally gets out of Barty’s bed to use the bathroom. Thankfully, Wilkes is already gone, and once the three remaining boys are washed and dressed, they leave as well to go up for breakfast.

Afterwards, since the weather is cold, wet and dreary, they spend most of the day in the library, studying and doing homework together with Dorcas and Pandora, until it’s time to get ready for Slughorn’s party.

The event is just as prestigious as Regulus expected. What he had not anticipated was for Pandora and Dorcas to look as radiant as they do: While the boys are all wearing classic black dress robes that, apart from minor details, look more or less similar, Pandora is donning a delicate, floor-length, white floaty dress. Regulus assumes it’s in some way enchanted, because the garment seems to sparkle or glow from within. With her hair gracefully falling over her shoulders and down her back, Pandora looks nothing short of ethereal.

Dorcas’ gown is even more stunning. It’s a magnificent, flowing vision, made of purple silk that’s beautifully draped and wrapped around her body. Along the edges and cascading down the front, it’s adorned with intricate bronze-coloured embroidery. When she moves, the dress ripples and sways around her, creating a supple, almost gliding effect. It’s the epitome of luxury and craftsmanship, and it makes Dorcas look positively regal, especially in combination with her hairstyle: For the occasion, she’s coiled her braids into an updo at the top of her head, half of which is elegantly covered by the silk of her gown, giving her additional height and presence.

All eyes are on the two girls when they enter Slughorn’s office. Not only do they fit perfectly into the elaborate scenery, they also divert the attention away from their companions, giving Regulus time to take a good look around.

The office seems to have, once again, been magically enlarged, and it’s covered all over with Christmas garlands and decorations. Regulus quickly spots Sirius and James with Mary and Marlene, all four of them spruced up as well. Marlene is wearing a navy-coloured waistcoat over her long dress in the same shade of blue, which strikes Regulus as slightly unusual, but it suits her, and his attention is quickly drawn to the other guests anyway.

A couple of famous Quidditch players are present, as well as some notable witches and wizards Regulus has met, or at least seen, at some function or other his parents took him to. He notices Arsenius Jigger, the author of Magical Drafts and Potions, Patricia Boardman, a celebrated opera singer, and Michael Bagman, a former Quidditch official and now executive from the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry of Magic.

“Welcome, welcome!”

When Slughorn greets the five of them, a wide beam across his face, Regulus is met with the faint smell of mead.

“I’m delighted you could all make it. And you brought additional guests, too!” Slughorn adds, exuberant as always, greeting Pandora and Dorcas with a kiss on the hand before turning back to the group at large. “Mister Crouch, if you’d be kind enough to come with me right away, there’s someone I’d like to introduce you to.”

“Um… sure,” Barty replies with a very forced smile.

Slughorn doesn’t seem to notice, though. “Please help yourselves to some nibbles, the house-elves truly did a magnificent job,” he says to the group at large, before tugging Barty away.

Shaking his head with a small snort, Regulus continues to let his gaze wander. Narcissa is at the other side of the room, in conversation with Rabastan Lestrange and a wizard Regulus doesn’t know. There are more members of the Slug Club, of course, including Lily, who’s standing a little apart with Snape, both with canapés in hand and talking as well. Regulus has no idea whether they came here together or just met here, but it’s not like he cares very much either way. Instead, he decides to go over to Sirius, who, with his wild, inappropriate waving, is threatening to cause a whole scene.

“Would you like to meet my brother?” Regulus asks Pandora. They may be here together as friends, but he invited her and he knows appropriate gentleman behaviour.

“Yes, I would like that very much,” she replies with a wide smile, so they walk over to Sirius and the others, with Evan and Dorcas in their wake.

“Finally!” Sirius welcomes his brother. “I’ve been standing here waving for at least five minutes!”

“So I’ve seen, and that’s why I came over,” Regulus answers evenly. “However, the polite thing to do was to wait for the host to greet us first, and not just waltz in here.”

Sirius rolls his eyes in response, but before he can say anything, Barty reappears at Regulus’ side, nudging him with his elbow. “You’re always so uptight, Reg!” he says before turning to Sirius, “I think you looked funny. Not as boring as the other folks around.” He grins.

“Thank you, it’s nice to be appreciated,” Sirius replies amusedly. “Regulus, I don’t know if I’ve already told you this, but I do approve of your choice of friends,” he then adds in a mock-formal tone while James snickers next to him.

“Pandora, meet my brother, Sirius. Sirius, this is Pandora Delacroix,” Regulus says wearily, fully aware that any attempt to maintain even the tiniest bit of decorum is completely pointless by now. Then again, they’re not at Grimmauld Place, so maybe Barty isn’t entirely wrong.

“Hello, Sirius, it's a pleasure to meet you,” Pandora says with her typical, slightly dreamy smile.

“Enchanté,” Sirius answers gallantly, shooting Regulus a meaningful look right after, before introducing his friends to Pandora. “These are James and Marlene. And oh, yeah, I came with Mary.”

“Oh, no, please don’t make me feel too special, Black!” Mary says with a snort of laughter. “Hiya Pandora, it’s nice to meet you. And you are…?” She raises questioning eyebrows at Evan and Dorcas.

“Evan Rosier and Dorcas Meadowes,” Regulus says quickly, not quite able to shed his good manners just yet.

“Well, Dorcas Meadowes, I really love your dress!” Mary says, eyeing her up and down. “And your hair is spectacular!”

“Thank you,” Dorcas replies, the deep brown skin of her cheeks darkening even more. “The dress is called a toub. It’s Sudanese. It’s actually a single piece of fabric…”

While Dorcas explains her robe to the other girls, Regulus’ attention is drawn to Evan asking Barty about where he went earlier.

“Who did Slughorn introduce you to? Anyone interesting?”

“Not really,” Barty laughs. “Turns out I already knew the bloke. He’s one of my dad’s acquaintances from the Ministry.”

Regulus searches Barty’s face for any sign of unease while he’s talking about his father. Finding none, he turns back to Pandora, ready to offer her a glass of pumpkin juice from the tray of a passing house-elf. She’s admiring the pockets in the skirt of Marlene’s dress at this moment, though, which Regulus doesn’t want to interrupt.

“Nice of you to bring your girlfriend,” Sirius tells Regulus in a low voice, smirking.

“Pandora is not my girlfriend.”

“Pity! You two look cute together!” James chimes in with a cackle.

“So you and Marlene are together, then?” Regulus asks him flatly. “Or you and Mary?” he adds, eyeing Sirius with an ironic sneer.

“Nah, Marls is just a pal,” James answers casually. “We were all allowed to invite someone, though, and it would’ve looked weird to bring a bloke, wouldn’t it?”

Regulus fights the urge to roll his eyes. Of course. Far be it from James Potter to show up at an event like this without some kind of social prop. If he didn't have the impression that Marlene, with her poise and confidence, is absolutely on a par with James, Regulus would feel bad for her.

“And obviously you couldn’t come on your own, either,” he states challengingly, raising an eyebrow.

“Why should I?” is all James replies with his trademark grin.

“Well said, mate!” Sirius agrees. “Listen to Barty and stop being so uptight, Reg. James and I both brought a friend, because we thought it’d be nice to have some fun company. Same as you, I assume?” he asks, casting a glance at Pandora, who’s still in conversation with the other girls.

“Indeed. I brought a friend, just like you, and I’d appreciate it if you stopped referring to her as my girlfriend.” Regulus’ voice sounds more wound up than he means to.

He’s not sure what irks him so much about this whole thing. After all, Sirius is his brother, and it’s normal for them to tease each other from time to time. Maybe it’s because of James. Regulus is still happy for Sirius having found such a close friend, but he also gets the feeling that James brings out Sirius’ worst and most arrogant traits. On the whole, the way he introduced Mary to Pandora wasn’t very nice, and he and James always seem to egg each other on in their antics.

“I’m sorry, Reggie,” Sirius interrupts these thoughts, proving them wrong, or at least debatable. “We didn’t mean any harm by it,” he says, his expression and voice sincere.

Next to him, James nods, looking equally serious. “Yeah, sorry, Reg. We’ll stop teasing now, ok?” 

Regulus sighs softly. He’s not in the mood to argue right now. “It’s fine. But if you don’t mind, I’ll check on my friend now, who, incidentally, is a girl but not my girlfriend.” He says this last part with a slight twitch of his lips, intended to tell James and especially Sirius that everything is indeed fine. Judging by the eyerolls and grins he receives back, he achieved the desired effect.

“Sure, of course, go ahead! Will I see you at the next Gryffindor Quidditch practice, by the way?” Sirius asks before Regulus has a chance to turn away.

“Um, no, I don’t think so, sorry. I’m… really busy at the moment. Revision, you know? With the holidays coming up and everything…” Regulus answers, feeling shifty, a knot of guilt forming in his stomach.

Sirius looks crestfallen but accepts his feigned reasons. “Oh, okay, um… I see. Well… school comes first, I guess… After the holidays, then?”

“Yes, we’ll see,” Regulus says succinctly before turning to Pandora. “Are you good? Can I get you anything? Pumpkin juice, maybe? Or a Gillywater?”

“That would be lovely,” she replies. “Why don’t we go and get something to drink together?”

Regulus agrees, relieved to get away from Sirius. He’ll deal with him later; this is not the right time – or place, for that matter.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Regulus begins while he and Pandora are on the lookout for a tray with beverages, “Did you find the things you were looking for, the other day?”

“Oh, I did!” Pandora tells him wide-eyed. “Turns out, it wasn’t the Pilfertucks! It was people who hid my things from me!”

“What?” Regulus comes to a stop. He thought Pandora had simply lost her things, or left them somewhere and forgot about it. Or maybe that someone had accidentally misplaced them. He hadn’t expected this. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course. They told me.”

“The— The people who hid your stuff told you?” Regulus frowns in confusion.

“Yes, it was a few second- and third-years. I found some of my things, and when I did, they told me they’d hidden my belongings, and teased me about it.”

“But why would they do that?” Regulus is genuinely shocked by this revelation.

“I told you, most people find me a bit odd,” she shrugs, like this was all perfectly normal.

“You also told me, people are being civil to you. Or were these students from other houses? Someone from Slytherin, maybe?” Regulus is ready to hex whoever dared to bully Pandora.

“No, they’re all Ravenclaws. And most of my housemates are nice to me, just not all of them. I still have Xeno, though. He’s always kind and supportive.”

Regulus takes a deep breath to compose himself. “Well, I’m glad you have him at least, but you need to tell me the names of those students, Dora. I think I should have a word with them.” And hex them. And consult Sirius for how best to prank them.

“Please let it go, Regulus,” she says airily, placing a hand on his arm.

Her touch is so soft, it makes Regulus even angrier – who can be that mean to such a gentle person? Apparently, she senses his anger, because she gives his arm a light squeeze in response.

“I won’t tell you who it was, Regulus. I truly appreciate your concern, but I don’t want you to interfere. I found everything that was lost, nothing was broken, and no harm was done. Let’s just get ourselves something to drink. I’d really fancy some pumpkin juice, and you?”

Regulus swallows down a frustrated grumble. He is not at all happy with this, but Pandora sounds surprisingly firm.

“Yes, pumpkin juice would be nice,” he says, deciding to take this matter up another day. For this, too, they’re neither at the right place nor is it the right time.

"Terrific!" She smiles and tugs him along to find their drinks.

After this, the evening proceeds smoothly and pleasantly. Slughorn introduces different people from Regulus’ friend group to various contacts of his, and Regulus has a polite chat with Arsenius Jigger, as well as an interesting conversation with the Keeper of the Ballycastle Bats. In between, he repeatedly exchanges quick words with the others, once even very briefly with James while Sirius is occupied by Slughorn. Regulus avoids his brother as much as possible to evade further questions that he doesn’t want to answer tonight. When it’s time to leave, Slughorn bids his guests goodnight and thanks Regulus again for coming.

“I’m delighted you followed my invitation, Mister Black. I’ve seen you talking to my good friend Arsenius – very interesting man, isn’t he? And a magnificent potioneer! I presume he gave you some useful insights?”

“Yes, it was very good talking to Mister Jigger,” Regulus answers courteously. “We’ve actually met before, but I’m always curious about new developments in potions, and he certainly gave me some very helpful advice. Thank you for having us tonight, Professor Slughorn,” he says with a glance at Pandora.

“Not at all, not at all,” Slughorn booms jovially. “As I said, I’m delighted you could make it. I expect great things from you in the new year, Mister Black!”

Chapter Text

Regulus is greeted by the familiar air of lingering dark magic that has taken up a lasting presence at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. It’s freezing outside, and unfortunately, even with all fireplaces lit plus additional heating charms, the house can never shake its own chilly atmosphere. Regulus assumes, the rather gloomy decor with all the dark green but mainly black colours adds to the effect. The many accumulated, centuries-old dark artefacts don’t make anything better either; they’re scattered across all kinds of surfaces, in display cabinets and even in cupboards and drawers, lending the place a mild sense of neglected clutter. In any case, Regulus prefers the warmth that the Black holiday estate in the South of France – or even the green expanses surrounding their other residence in Scotland – offer in comparison. But despite all that, Grimmauld Place is home.

Sirius in his wake, Regulus walks down the hallway, past numerous framed portraits of their ancestors.

The painting of their grandfather Arcturus welcomes Sirius with a contemptuous, “Aha! There’s the traitor grandson!”, but mercifully, at least the portrait of their Great-Aunt Dorea holds back, for a change. Maybe she’s simply given up on trying to insult Sirius. He ignores them all, shuffling silently along behind Regulus.

The scent of magical silver polish wafts through the house, undoubtedly due to Kreacher’s efforts to clean the tableware for Winter Solstice dinner, as well as the most precious silver dark artefacts for their guests to admire.

Their house-elf had picked both brothers up from King’s Cross station and apparated them inconspicuously home to Grimmauld Place. The train ride with Barty, Evan and Dorcas had been fine; Regulus’ mood teetered between concern and a sense of foreboding, but knowing that Barty was in a similar predicament was a huge comfort, and neither of the two let anything on. At some point, Pandora and Xeno came by the Slytherins’ compartment, which was nice and helped lift the overall atmosphere.

“How are the preparations for the Winter Solstice coming along?” Regulus asks Kreacher who’s walking down the hallway in front of him. “Still much to attend to?”

“Master Regulus is concerned about Kreacher as always, but there’s no need to worry. Kreacher’s got it all under control and will not disappoint,” the elf replies eagerly. “Everything for the Winter Solstice is perfectly on schedule. Kreacher will now prepare supper for his Masters and his Mistress, and afterwards, Kreacher will continue to clean every nook and cranny of the house. Kreacher will make sure everything is in its most splendid state for the Winter Solstice.”

“I’m sure your work will be excellent as always, Kreacher. I have complete faith in you. The only thing I’m worried about is that you’ll overexert yourself,” Regulus says kindly, even though he already knows it’s futile.

“Ah, but Master Regulus, it is Kreacher’s greatest honour to make sure that the house will befit the nobility and the ascendancy of the House of Black.”

Regulus fights back a sigh. He knows his family’s status, but he’s always found it excessive to let the house-elf work until he collapses. True, Kreacher has never actually cracked yet, but he’s not getting any younger and Regulus would hate to see him suffer just for a dinner.

“Well, I’ll leave you to your duties then,” he says to the elf while Sirius mutters something behind him that sounds suspiciously like “nobility and ascendancy my arse”.

Privately, Regulus has already decided to help Kreacher in the kitchen again. He’s always enjoyed cooking, and under the pretence that it also refines his potion brewing skills, the elf accepts his help. His parents must never find out, of course, because assisting the servant is highly unbecoming, but Sirius knows. He discovered Regulus’ little hobby a couple of years ago, when, sent to bed without supper, Sirius sneaked down into the kitchen for something to eat. Regulus does feel a little bad about having to order Kreacher to keep this secret from his Master and Mistress, but for one thing, he figures it’s good that Kreacher does have some help, and for another, Regulus knows that his parents’ directives would override his own. If they’d ask their house-elf the right questions or give him the right orders, they’d instantly know all about Regulus’ improper activities, but neither he nor Kreacher can be blamed for Walburga and Orion Black’s lack of cunning, can they?

Shooting his brother a glare for his unseemly grumbled comment, Regulus parts ways with him and Kreacher to go upstairs and spend some time in his room. There’ll surely be plenty of opportunities during the two weeks at home to help the house-elf in the kitchen.

The Winter Solstice and the corresponding celebratory dinner won’t be until the 21st December, which of course doesn’t mean Sirius and Regulus don’t have to attend the regular suppers. That’s fine, though, because they do need to eat, after all.

Regulus examines himself from head to toe in the half-length mirror in his bedroom, making sure he looks as immaculate as is expected of him. His black hair is neatly combed to the side, waves tamed by Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion, his skin pale as always, but unblemished. Simple, dark robes cover a smooth white button-down shirt, its collar perfectly upright, cuffs straightened out, not a crease in sight. Regulus lets his gaze wander down over himself. His black trousers are impeccably pressed as well, his polished black leather shoes are shining.

Satisfied with his appearance, he nods once. A last glance over his room with the pristinely made bed, the clean, uncluttered desk and his personal bookshelf – everything dominated by the Slytherin crest and colours – then Regulus turns to go down to the dining room.

He runs into Sirius at the top of the staircase and needs to work hard to suppress a heavy sigh. Why in the name of Merlin can’t his brother behave just once? It would make everyone’s life so much easier. Like Regulus, Sirius is dressed in dark trousers, black leather shoes, a white shirt and dark robes. Contrary to Regulus, though, his robe hangs crookedly over a wrinkled shirt, the hems of his trousers look worn, and his shoes are clearly not polished. Sirius’ hair hangs loose – it’s shoulder-length now, but it was already a source of annoyance to their mother when it only reached past his ears, so Regulus assumes, hopes, the few extra inches won’t make much difference. At least it looks kempt and shiny, Regulus supposes that’s something. In short, his brother once again strikes a careful balance between appearing dishevelled enough to annoy their mother, yet sufficiently groomed to avoid being sent to bed without supper.

“Do you have to?” Regulus utters wearily, eyeing Sirius up and down.

All he receives in turn is a cheeky grin and a wink, before Sirius clomps down the stairs. Regulus follows, shaking his head as he strides after him.

As expected, their mother wrinkles her nose when she sees Sirius, but allows her firstborn to take a seat at the dining table. Regulus’ place is opposite Sirius, their parents are seated at either end of the table.

“Kindly straighten your robes, Sirius,” their mother says with a sour face, her voice tinged with disdain. “Kreacher, you may commence service now.”

With a snap of his fingers, Kreacher produces two silver serving dishes filled with lamb chops and green beans, next to a sauceboat of mint sauce.

“Kreacher, ensure Sirius and Regulus receive a greater portion of beans than meat,” their mother dictates, once she and her husband have been provided with food. “One finds vegetables are good for you,” she then tells her sons.

Regulus’ stomach is already grumbling now. He only had breakfast and then a Pumpkin Pasty during the train ride today. Still, Kreacher puts only one lamb chop onto his plate, but at least he also serves Regulus a mountain of beans next to it, and a dab of sauce. Across from him, Sirius is already eying his own bean pile with distaste.

Once their father has lifted his cloth napkin to place it neatly in his lap, signalling the beginning of supper, Regulus is addressed by his mother.

“Regulus, I believe we already told you that we’re pleased you were sorted into the correct house,” she says, giving Sirius a pointed glance before eyeing Regulus again, “Do inform me whether your academic achievements are meeting our high standards and expectations as well.”

“Yes, Mother, I believe they are,” Regulus answers, once he’s swallowed his first bite of lamb. “I receive commendable feedback from all professors, and the curriculum is suitably challenging. My strongest subject is Potions.”

His stomach twists slightly as Sirius utters the faintest retching sound, accompanied by a quiet “Swot!”. It’s not so much Sirius’ teasing that worries Regulus, it’s more the concern that their mother will eventually lose her patience and punish his brother. It’s all very well that Sirius doesn’t seem to care, but Regulus does.

Luckily, their mother is currently too focused on her younger son to care much about Sirius’ antics. Regulus places his knife and fork on his plate and looks at her expectantly, waiting for her to speak again.

“Very good, the art of potion brewing is a time-honoured wizarding discipline. I daresay you have been invited to Horace Slughorn’s gatherings of particularly esteemed students?”

“Yes, Mother,” affirms Regulus with a nod.

She curtly mirrors the gesture. “Good. Ensure you’ll attend future meetings as well. Cultivating the correct social appearances is equally important as your academic endeavours, Regulus.”

“I should say they are rather more important,” interjects his father, his voice as formidable as his overall appearance.

“Naturally, our sons are intelligent and skilled – they are Blacks.” He says this with such assurance as if it were a self-evident fact, which, to him, it certainly is. “This affords them certain birthrights and privileges, but to maintain our status, we must continually represent the noble House we stem from, wouldn’t you agree, Walburga?” he finishes, slightly raising an eyebrow as he looks at his wife.

She inclines her head towards him. “Of course, Orion, you are entirely correct.”

“Indeed. And I should hope that all family members bear this in mind,” he replies with a pointed look at Sirius before turning back to his younger son. “With whom do you associate at school, Regulus?”

Regulus takes a quick sip of his water before he answers. He likes his friends and wouldn’t want to miss them, but his mouth has just gone noticeably dry at the thought of what his parents will have to say about them.

“I have cultivated some useful associations in Slytherin, father. You will be pleased to hear that I share a dormitory with Evan Rosier. With Bartemius Crouch Junior as well. I am aware that his family’s views are not recognised in this House, but I’m afraid his father commands a certain influence within the Ministry of Magic. One must know one’s adversaries, wouldn’t you agree, father?”

“Yes, most certainly. And what about beyond Slytherin House?” his father probes further. “While it is the only house befitting a Black, it is indeed prudent to know possible contenders from other houses as well.”

Ignoring the further jab at Sirius, Regulus answers quickly before his brother can interject. “Beyond Slytherin, I have become a member of a study group that includes students from Ravenclaw. They are reputedly quite bright, after all, and a year above me, so I can certainly benefit from their advanced knowledge.”

His father acknowledges this statement with a nod.

“Furthermore, I have formed an association with Pandora Delacroix from Ravenclaw. She is a pure-blood witch and rather proficient in Herbology.”

“Delacroix, you say?” his mother inquires now. “From the established seer lineage?”

“I believe so, Mother.”

Regulus knows his mother doesn’t exactly value seers, but divination is an old wizarding tradition, and those few gifted with the so-called Inner Eye do hold a certain acclaim.

“I’ve also been paired with Dorcas Meadowes in my classes. Her parents are a pure-blood witch and wizard from Sudan,” he continues, hoping that Dorcas’ blood status will be sufficient for his mother’s approval.

“Hm. I shall assume that, provided the blood purity is not questionable, association with members of the lesser society can be warranted. Regrettably, it has become exceedingly complicated to remain exclusively within pure-blood circles of a high register.”

“Indeed, Mother.”

“And that study group you spoke of—”

“Yeah, our family certainly knows all about remaining within pure-blood circles, don’t we, Mother?” Sirius interrupts her mid-sentence.

Slowly, very slowly, and with an expression of barely composed fury, their mother turns her head towards her eldest son. “Leave. Immediately. Go to your room and stay out of my sight for the remainder of the day.”

Her voice is bone-chillingly cold, and yet, Sirius dares to talk back to her.

“But—”

“If you do not vanish this very instant, I shall hex your lips closed.”

Icy panic clenches around Regulus’ heart. He knows that dangerously calm tone of his mother only too well. It means she’s serious, that she’s just one step away from brutal physical punishment. Sure, it’s never punishment that leaves visible scars, but she did hex Sirius’ lips together before, which resulted in Regulus desperately trying to supply him with water through a straw (needless to say, all attempts had been futile). Regulus wants neither his brother nor himself to undergo two days like that again.

Mercifully, and to Regulus’ enormous relief, Sirius seems to remember as well. After a quick, worried glance at Regulus, he stoically pushes back his chair, stands up and leaves the room without saying another word. The solid wooden double door closes behind him with a mundane clack.

“The remainder of our meal will be held in silence,” his mother decides, and Regulus wouldn’t dream of contradicting her. He even tries to breathe as silently as possible until he’s finally excused from the table.

Later that night, Regulus is lying in bed but far from falling asleep. The events during dinner – his parents’ interrogation, the clash between Sirius and their mother, the punishment she threatened to inflict, the memories it evoked in Regulus – it’s a lot to process.

Sirius stayed in his room for the rest of the evening, and Regulus didn’t dare to check on him. As well as he gets on with Kreacher, he cannot rule out the possibility that his mother has ordered the elf to inform her of any contact between her sons.

Just when Regulus ponders how long it’ll take until his parents and Kreacher are definitely asleep, so he can sneak over to Sirius’ room, his door creaks open and his brother slips inside.

“Hey,” Sirius whispers, softly closing the door behind himself.

“Are you alright?” Regulus replies just as quietly.

“Of course I am. How about you?” Without further ado, Sirius tiptoes over to Regulus’ bed, who lifts the duvet to let him crawl under it.

“I’m okay,” Regulus replies, and then, once Sirius has settled beside him, “Why did you have to provoke Mother like that?”

He’s lying on his back, Sirius’ arm now serving as a comfortable pillow. It’s soothing to have his brother close like this.

Sirius huffs a small, quiet laugh. “Because I wanted to distract her from the fact that you’re meeting with one of my best mates on a regular basis, you prat. A half-blood mate, at that. Wouldn’t have gone down well, would it?”

“No, of course not,” Regulus agrees.

“See?” Sirius gives him a gentle squeeze around the shoulders. “But you do like Remus, and you want to keep going to that study group, right?”

“Yes, I do, but I obviously wasn’t going to tell our parents about Remus. Or Lily, for that matter, since she’s Muggle-born. Do you think I’m stupid, Sirius?” Regulus’ voice is still a whisper, but he’s nevertheless audibly annoyed now.

“Reggie,” Sirius says in a placating tone, “Come on, of course I don’t think that. I just thought, I’d make it easier for you.” He pauses briefly, then adds, “I s’pose that didn’t quite work out.”

Regulus sighs softly. “No, it didn’t,” he says flatly.

Another pause and a squeeze, then Sirius mutters, “I’m sorry.” He sounds completely genuine.

“It’s okay, just—” Regulus begins, trying to find the right words, “I know I’m your younger brother, and I know you only want to protect me. And I’m grateful for that, truly. But I can fight my own battles too, you know?” With a more strategic and safer approach at that, is what he doesn’t say out loud. “You don’t have to put yourself in danger for me all the time.”

They’re both silent for a moment, the peace and quiet of the night wrapping around them comfortably. Eventually, Sirius heaves a sigh and then resumes talking, “Reggie… You’ll always be my baby brother. I know you’re not three years old anymore, but I reckon I’ll always feel the need to protect you, because… Well, I don’t see you fighting back…” He sounds a little desperate, and Regulus gets it. But his perspective is an entirely different one.

“Not all fighting has to be loud, Sirius.”

“I know, but it’s how I fight,” Sirius replies with a small, almost apologetic, chuckle. “But I guess you’re not me, so… I’ll try to bear that in mind, in the future, alright? I’ll try to keep out of your battles, Reggie.” He sighs again, apparently finding this very difficult. “But you have to promise me that you’ll let me help you if… if there’s something, or someone, you can’t deal with on your own. Okay?”

“Yes, Sirius, of course.” Regulus snuggles a little closer to his brother, feeling the warmth of his body, and nudges him gently in the side. “I’m glad you’re my big brother, you know that, right?”

The smile in Sirius’ voice is audible when he answers, “I do know, but it’s still nice to hear.”

Regulus acknowledges this with a small, huffed-out laugh.

“That bit you said during dinner, about useful connections…” Sirius continues hesitantly, “You made it sound like your friends were just… I don’t know… pawns in your game of Wizard Chess. That was total dragon dung, though, right?”

Incredulous, Regulus turns his head to look at Sirius properly. It’s dark, but the light of the waxing moon shining through the curtain is still bright enough for them to see each other’s faces.

“Of course it was dragon dung! I only said those things to make sure Mother and Father won’t forbid me to spend time with my friends. I like Barty and Evan, because they’re great people, Sirius. Dorcas and Pandora too.” It’s hard to keep his voice low, but honestly, what does his brother think of him?

“Okay, hey, sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you, Reggie!” Sirius whispers hastily, tightening his hold on him for emphasis. “I’m sorry, really!”

Still indignant, but also somewhat appeased, Regulus slowly lies back down with a quiet scoff.

“Sorry,” Sirius says yet again, pulling Regulus closer, like before. “It’s just that you were so believable.” Regulus feels him shrug slightly, probably out of sheer helplessness.

“I’ll take that as a compliment to my acting abilities,” he replies with a snort.

Sirius laughs quietly in turn, then the brothers stay silent for a while. Until Sirius speaks again.

“Reg?” he says softly, his tone hesitant.

“Hm?”

“Did you—” Sirius clears his throat silently, “I mean… Have you ever thought that it might not be normal, the way our family is? How we’re being treated?”

“What?”

Regulus was already half asleep. He’s not entirely sure what his brother is on about.

“Well…” Sirius continues slowly, “James has told me a bit about his family, you know… how they celebrate Christmas, for example, but also how his parents treat him, that they tell him they love him. Quite frequently, actually. But also… They don’t seem to punish him the way our parents do, even though I don’t think he’s much of an innocent choirboy at home, if you know what I mean,” he chuckles slightly.

A frown pulls Regulus’ eyebrows together. “Do you mean you also talked to him about our family?”

“Well, yes, but I also read a couple of Muggle story books that featured families, and in those books, the parents were usually different too. And if they weren’t, if they were more like Mother and Father, they were called ‘bad parents’.”

Regulus shakes his head slightly, making it roll back and forth on Sirius’ upper arm. “Sirius, those were Muggle stories.”

“But Muggles are human too, Reg. And besides, Peter’s family is also more like James’. And even Remus’ mum and dad—”

“I can’t believe you talked to strangers about our family.”

Regulus is suddenly wide awake again. The Black Family’s affairs are a strictly private matter to be handled with discretion; that’s what their parents told him and Sirius since they were little children. That Sirius told other people about their family’s inner workings… Regulus isn’t sure how he feels about this. It certainly strikes him as improper, but then again…

There’s the smallest nagging sensation in his chest, or is it his stomach? He feels weird. Because didn’t he have similar thoughts, somewhere buried under explanations or justifications? He’s heard his own friends talk about their families as well – Evan, whose dad supports and involves his son, and Barty, whose mum is happy to decorate the Christmas tree with him, although she’s not in a great physical condition. Regulus has also picked up a thing or two from other classmates – from people writing home on a regular basis, for example, or from other students, looking forward to spending Christmas with their families.

But just like Regulus isn’t Sirius, none of these people are Blacks. They might be pure-bloods, but they don’t have to meet the same expectations as his own family.

Being a Black means upholding a certain image, and, as his parents rightly pointed out again and again, Regulus never had to go one day in his life without a roof over his head, clothes to wear, or without being fed. Even today, when his mother prevented him from eating more lamb chops, she only had his best interests at heart – he wouldn’t want to lie awake half the night with a stomach ache, would he? And she let Sirius have dinner with the family too, although he didn’t adhere to the dress code.

“Reggie?”

“Huh?”

“I said that I talked only to James about more private things. And he’s not a stranger, at least not to me.”

Evidently, Regulus had been so lost in his own head just now that he didn’t realise Sirius was talking to him. Or maybe he’d simply talked really quietly. Either way, this shouldn’t have happened. Regulus needs to be more aware of his surroundings.

“Yes, well, I don’t think you should talk to anyone about those things. Our family’s affairs are a private matter, and should be handled with discretion.”

Sirius heaves a surprisingly heavy sigh, but relents, “Yeah… I’ll keep that in mind.”

They fall silent after that, but Regulus thinks that neither of them truly sleeps. He watches how the moonlight shifts over time, his mind drowsy and confused. Sirius has always had a tendency to exaggerate. Things aren’t usually as bad as he makes them out to be, and Regulus supposes this is just another example.

For a long time, he dozes more than he sleeps, only drifting off completely, once Sirius has snuck back to his own room. The last thing Regulus notices before finally falling asleep is the rumbling of his stomach.

Over the next few days, Sirius appears to be a little subdued, but Regulus leaves him be, reasoning that he probably just misses his friends. Regulus does too, after all. He wonders how they are doing, whether Barty has trouble sleeping again as well.

For Regulus had looked forward to seeing his bedroom and to sleeping in his own bed. It’s not that he doesn’t like his four-poster at Hogwarts, and he adjusted to sharing a dorm with three other people far easier than he’d thought (even though he could still do without Wilkes). But ever since he was a little kid, the bed in his room had been something like a safe harbour for him. Whenever the world around him got too complicated, too noisy or generally too much in any way, he liked to hide under his blanket, enclosing himself in his own little world. He even used to imagine being in this private, isolated space when reality didn’t allow him to be; it was like taking refuge there in his mind.

However, since returning to Grimmauld Place, Regulus has found that, whenever he lies in bed at night, trying – and failing – to fall asleep, he imagines being back in his bed at Hogwarts. He thinks of the curtains shut around him, and Barty in the bed across from his own. This helps.

Since that one night when Regulus and Barty slept in the same bed, nothing similar has happened again – yet. Regulus supposes he wouldn’t mind if it did. He’d even listened extra carefully to hear if Barty showed signs of restless or no sleep again, but that hadn’t been the case. Obviously, Regulus doesn’t want his friend to sleep badly, but sharing a bed with him had been nice, because Regulus feels that it somehow brought them closer, maybe even a bit like Sirius is with James.

Sirius…

Regulus still doesn’t like the idea that his brother talked to someone outside of their family about their private matters. On the other hand, isn’t it further proof of Sirius’ thoughts about the possible abnormality of their family being wrong? Otherwise, James would surely have said something along those lines, wouldn’t he?

Perhaps he did, and Sirius just didn't mention it to me?

Even if so, what does James know? He’s not a Black, and families differ from one another. Barty’s is different from Evan’s too, and Dorcas’ family has their own unique characteristics as well. Why should James Potter of all people get to decide what’s normal?

Regulus shakes his head to clear it, like he’s done several times over the past few days, whenever the thoughts of his conversation with Sirius and the accompanying irritation came up. It’s time for Winter Solstice dinner, after all, and he has more important things to ponder; Regulus is currently far too preoccupied with the proceedings and with their guests.

As per usual, his parents have invited his aunt Lucretia (his father’s sister) and her husband Ignatius. Regulus’ uncle Cygnus (the brother of his mother) and his wife Druella, with their daughters Narcissa and Bellatrix, are also in attendance, the third daughter, Andromeda, missing for obvious reasons.

His mother’s other brother, Uncle Alphard, is absent – also as per usual. He rarely participates in family celebrations, since he and his sister don’t have the best relationship. Regulus isn’t sure why; his mother merely has hinted repeatedly that she doesn’t condone Alphard’s “lifestyle”, but Regulus has no idea what that means. Maybe it’s the fact that Alphard isn’t married even though he’s well past the customary age for marriage. Of course, this is usually a bigger issue for women than for men, but who knows?

Regulus used to write to him every now and then, but even though Alphard was always perfectly nice in his letters and on those rare occasions they met in person, they never developed a closer bond. As far as Regulus knows, it’s similar for Sirius.

Either way, Alphard is, unfortunately, missing from Winter Solstice dinner, but he probably couldn't have made the whole thing much more bearable anyway. Because the moment Regulus’ father has given his traditional words of welcome, Bellatrix starts with her own little, irritating routine.

“Uncle Orion, it is an utmost honour to be received by you once again. It is ever the greatest privilege to be amongst those who uphold the nobility of our blood status with such devotion as I, as indeed we all, do,” Bellatrix says in the excessively ingratiating way she adopts whenever talking to Regulus’ father.

As she does so, she glances at her sister with a look that is surely meant to be engaging, but only comes across as creepy. Narcissa smiles back, but it doesn’t reach her eyes and, in Regulus’ opinion, looks very fake.

It’s always like this when Bellatrix visits; she fawns upon Regulus’ father as if he were a monarch. Of course, as the current reigning patriarch of the House of Black, he kind of is, but Regulus finds Bellatrix’s ostentatious behaviour rather inordinate nonetheless. However, he’s not quite sure what’s worse – her exaggerated flattery or his father languidly accepting it with such evident gratification.

“Ah, Bella, my dearest niece, the pleasure is assuredly my own,” he replies while Kreacher serves the exquisite dinner he’s prepared. “I commend your devotion to our most prized traditions and principles. I have always held those in the highest possible esteem who comprehend what being born a member of the most noble and ancient House of the wizarding world entails,” he replies, granting her a rare, appreciative smile before glancing contemptuously in Sirius’ direction.

Regulus doesn’t dare look at his brother directly, fearing what might happen if Sirius feels the tiniest bit emboldened. Instead, he catches Narcissa’s eye, and even though she keeps her decorous smile in place, the subtle twitch of her eyebrow suffices to tell him that her sister’s behaviour displeases her just as much as it does Regulus.

Fortunately, as far as Sirius’ possible outburst is concerned, but perhaps less fortunately for Regulus, dinner conversation quickly focuses on him. At least no one addresses him directly, though, so he can eat in peace while the adults talk about him.

Cygnus nods approvingly at Regulus’ father, “Nothing less than one would expect, Orion. I trust your younger son recognises the obligation of conducting himself appropriately, thereby representing the House of Black supremely in Slytherin?” His gaze drifts to Regulus’ mother, as she’s ultimately the one held accountable for the upbringing and, by extension, the behaviour of her offspring; that responsibility does not fall upon the patriarch.

“Indeed, he does”, she replies, luckily before Sirius can react. “Regulus’ academic performance leaves absolutely nothing to be desired, and he associates exclusively with other pure-bloods. I have also been given assurance that he represents his status and noble bloodline with dignity in Slytherin.”

As she speaks the last sentence, she casts a meaningful look at Narcissa, who responds with another gracious smile and a nod.

“That is certainly most gratifying to learn,” Cygnus says, even though his expression suggests a certain dissatisfaction, presumably because he would prefer Walburga’s second son to be a disgrace as well. After all, that would make his daughters look even better in comparison.

“Who exactly does Regulus choose to surround himself with?” he presses on, acting as though Regulus were not sitting right there.

It’s not like he’s bothered by any of this, though. Glad that his mother is distracted from his food intake, Regulus only half-listens to her telling Cygnus all about his friends – or all that she knows, at least.

Unsurprisingly, Barty and Dorcas just barely pass Cygnus’ scrutiny, because they’re pure-bloods. Of course, Barty’s father is not at all popular with the Blacks in general, but the notion of knowing one’s adversaries is compelling to all adults present.

Regulus thinks that Dorcas is only accepted because neither his parents nor Cygnus can fully assess her parents (yet), as they haven’t lived in Britain for generations. However, he doesn’t doubt that the Meadoweses will be subjected to a thorough investigation into their lineage and their life in Sudan, to make sure he associates only with people worthy of a precious Black scion.

He lets the conversation flow past him while he deeply appreciates the meal Kreacher has put so much work into. Pandora is regarded as only marginally acceptable, because while she is a pure-blood, she’s still “only” a Ravenclaw and her parents, like Dorcas’ mum and dad, do not belong to the spheres of high society the Blacks customarily engage with.

If he weren’t so used to conversations like this, Regulus is sure he’d feel nauseous by now. He does understand the status of his family and the importance of maintaining it, but for some reason, looking down on people just because they’re not as noble, or as rich, as his family (who is, really?) doesn’t sit quite right with him. His friends are lovely, that’s why he likes to spend time with them. Not because of their pure blood or because they’re supposedly better than other people.

However, Regulus holds his tongue, choosing to just live through it as usual, because what is there to be gained by contradicting any of it? Punishments like he’s so often seen on Sirius. And to what end?

“Regulus is billeted with one Evan Rosier,” his mother addresses Aunt Druella. “Surely he must possess a distant relation to you?”

This gains more of Regulus’ attention again, because of course he knew that his aunt by marriage is a born Rosier, but he’s never questioned her relation to his newfound friend – all pure-blood wizarding families are in some way related to each other, after all. He doesn’t particularly care to what extent he might be related to Evan (again – by marriage) either, but this subject is certainly more interesting than endless ramblings about the mere suitability of his friends.

“Evan, you say?” Druella replies, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Why yes, I believe he is my second cousin once removed, or something of that nature. But I regret to say that we do not maintain any significant association with that branch of the family. They are altogether too… liberal”, she adds haughtily, uttering the last word like a slur. “They do not even celebrate the Winter Solstice, but Christmas. Imagine the barbarity, Walburga!”

“Ah, the decline of the time-honoured ways – a veritable tragedy!” Regulus’ father agrees, raising his glass. “To the perseverance of tradition!”

“Hear, hear!” Uncle Ignatius chimes in emphatically. Regulus always had the impression that he, who merely married into the family, has always been particularly committed to belonging.

Alright, so the family is back to rambling. In his head, Regulus zones out again. Yet, as everyone joins the toast, he and Sirius raise their glasses of watered-down wine as well, even though Sirius only does so with an entirely sour look on his face. Regulus, keeping his own features carefully neutral, assumes it’s still better than his brother making a scene.

“I strongly suggest you allocate more of your attention to your chamber-mate, Dominicus Wilkes, Regulus. His father is a key associate in your father’s ventures. It is ever prudent to cultivate beneficial alliances across successive generations.”

“Yes, Mother,” Regulus says obediently, thinking that he’ll have to concern himself with Wilkes regardless, just perhaps in a different way than his mother imagines.

Luckily, Aunt Lucretia changes the subject to Narcissa’s suitor, Lucius Malfoy, after that. He left Hogwarts this year, but the two of them have been a couple for quite a while now. Regulus has met him a few times, but Malfoy never struck him as particularly likeable or pleasant. Frankly, he’s not sure what his cousin sees in him, apart from his status and family’s inherited wealth, but Regulus figures that who Narcissa chooses to consort with is none of his business, anyway.

After a brief interrogation of Narcissa regarding her relationship, Bellatrix is interviewed about Rabastan Lestrange’s courtship. This, Regulus can fathom even less, but his lack of understanding is directed not so much at his cousin, in this case, but even more at the lunatic who pursues her.

Bellatrix is a prime example of how centuries of inbreeding do not lead to much good, in Regulus’ opinion. At least, he can’t explain her insanity any other way, and secretly fears that it will eventually catch up with him and Sirius, too. Then again, maybe his brother’s inability to pull himself together for the sake of relative peace is the first sign already.

Instead of dwelling on any of this, Regulus focuses back on his dinner, savouring the sublime dessert until their mother puts an end to his and Sirius’ “gluttony”. After that, he’s more than happy to withdraw to his room while the adults retreat to the drawing room, where Kreacher earlier lit the ritual Winter Solstice fire.

The next day, after making sure his parents are both occupied, Regulus is on his way down to the kitchen. He fell asleep last night, imagining that he was in his bed at Hogwarts, but then he had a nightmare of being trapped and locked up in some dark, undefined place, and nobody heard him screaming for help. Now he wants to distract himself from his thoughts by lending Kreacher a hand, but is stopped by Sirius as he descends the stairs.

“Reggie, hey! Sneaking down to help that ruddy elf again?” Sirius asks with a rather unflattering smirk.

It happens, sometimes, that Sirius takes his pent-up testy energy out on his younger brother. In Regulus’ opinion, that’s better than, say, during dinner the evening before, but today he’s just not in the mood for Sirius’ prickliness on top of his own anxieties.

“Kreacher’s nice to me,” he therefore replies in a neutral voice, trying to walk past his brother.

However, Sirius blocks his way. “Speaking of nice, Winter Solstice dinner was enjoyable, wasn’t it? Pity our dear relatives had to leave so early,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Remember when Barking Bella used to smuggle us Butterbeers?”

Regulus does remember. Of course, he does; it was the first time he ever tried the drink – he must’ve been seven or eight years old. However, he’s still not in the mood for small talk with his brother.

“I reckon the adults were tired and Cissy and Bella probably have plans with their boyfriends today or something,” he replies with a shrug. “May I please get past you, Sirius?”

“Sure, sure, in a second. Hey, if you’re so thick with Kreacher, maybe he could conjure some Butterbeers for us?”

Regulus looks at his brother, taking him in properly for the first time since he ran into him. There’s something soft in Sirius’s eyes, his whole demeanour seeming to suddenly shift from provoking to… imploring?

“I just mean… We could go up onto the roof and do some stargazing later. Like in the old days?” Sirius continues, his voice tinged with something like hopefulness. “We can do that without Butterbeer too, of course. Even better if they don’t catch us out of bed and drinking inappropriate beverages.” He winks and smiles in a way that Regulus assumes is supposed to be winning, but appears rather shaky.

“No… I don’t think so, Sirius,” Regulus answers, forcing his way past him now. The mention of their parents catching them misbehaving was enough to let his fears resurface and remind him why he was on his way downstairs in the first place.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Regulus turns around at his brother’s words, a chill running down his spine. “Pardon?”

Of course, Sirius would notice. Anything else was never realistic.

“I mean, look at you,” Sirius, now three steps above Regulus, gestures vaguely between them, “You're literally fleeing, just because I suggested we spend time with each other.” Then, softer, “You also didn’t come to watch Quidditch practices with me anymore.”

“I— It was cold,” Regulus says, but he can’t prevent his gaze from avoiding Sirius’.

“I thought you said you were busy with schoolwork.” Sirius’ voice is positively drenched in suspicion.

“That too,” Regulus mutters evasively.

“Look at me, Regulus,” Sirius demands, and Regulus whips his head around, giving his brother a pointed glare.

“What’s going on with you, Reggie?”

Regulus’ heart aches at Sirius’ almost pleading tone. At the same time, however, memories flood his brain like biting reminders why he decided to distance himself from his brother – Narcissa’s reasoning, the hostilities he faced in Slytherin and the conclusions from them, the punishments their parents would take out on Sirius and probably on himself too, if they found out that he and Sirius are close again, or have been the whole time.

“I just think that it would be more prudent for us to stay a little apart, seeing as we were Sorted into different houses,” Regulus states, keeping his posture straight, his face haughty and his voice neutral.

Sirius’ eyebrows fly up. “More prudent? Regulus… Are you buying all that nonsense after all? Do you really believe you’re better than everyone else, now that you’re in Slytherin? Just because you’re a Black or a pure-blood or whatever?”

Regulus fights hard to keep his composure, because Sirius thinking this of him bloody hurts. But they can’t spend time with each other like they used to; not at home, where their parents can see for themselves, nor at school, where Narcissa will inevitably pass it on as soon as the opportunity arises and it’s to her advantage.

It’s not even so much about the physical punishments, like the denial of meals or being locked in their rooms or the Cruciatus Curse. More than anything, Regulus fears being torn away from Sirius completely. Their parents might’ve sent them both to Hogwarts, but he still doesn’t put it past their mother to rethink that decision and transfer one of them to Durmstrang after all. And he wants neither himself nor Sirius to lose their friends; Mulciber and the other unpleasant Slytherins aside, Regulus likes being in Hogwarts, with Barty, Evan, Dorcas and Pandora. And he knows that staying there makes Sirius happy too.

Can he tell Sirius any of this, though? He’d probably ask questions about how, why, Regulus would come up with Durmstrang, and how should he explain this without revealing their mother’s warning?

“You know what is expected of you.”

Sirius would be furious. It’s probably safer to—

“Oh my God!” His brother’s dramatic shout interrupts Regulus’ thought process.

Damn. He evidently stayed silent for too long and unintentionally gave Sirius time to draw his own conclusions.

“Sirius, it’s not—”

But he’s already holding up a hand, signalling Regulus to remain quiet.

“Drop it, Reg. I should’ve known better. You always were a conformist, weren’t you?”

With that, Sirius turns around and stomps up the stairs, leaving Regulus behind with stinging eyes and a heavy lump in his throat.

He takes a couple of deep breaths to collect himself, forcing down any rising tears, then he turns around as well to continue his descent into the kitchen.

It’s better this way, Regulus tells himself. It’ll keep us both safe.

After his encounter with Sirius, Regulus does eventually help Kreacher with the cooking and continues doing so a couple more times during the rest of the holidays. Preparing and processing the ingredients while chatting with the house-elf calms him almost as much as brewing potions. He also reads several books and devotes quite a lot of his time to studying for school.

It’s on one of these occasions – Regulus is bent over his desk, where an old Potions book from his parents’ library lies open – when the door to his room opens slowly. He flinches because he knows Kreacher to be downstairs cleaning, but he’s immediately relieved to see that it’s just Sirius.

His brother has been avoiding him ever since their meeting on the stairs. He doesn’t look very happy to be here now either, which doesn’t exactly compel Regulus to show his most welcoming side.

“The sign is there for a reason, you know?” he says drily, pointing towards the access ban he drew up himself.

Sirius’ face turns, if possible, even more sullen. “I just wanted to ask whether you happen to have the book A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration by Emeric Switch,” he says, ignoring Regulus’ remark completely.

“No. Why should I?” Regulus counter-questions with a frown. “I’m a first-year student, and that book sounds like it’s OWL level at least, or even more likely NEWT level.”

Sirius still looks grumpy when he retorts, “Yeah, I know, but you like to read, so I thought I’d ask…” He shrugs.

“No, sorry, I can’t help you. What do you need the book for anyway? Can’t be for your Transfiguration homework, can it?” Against his will and better judgment, Regulus’ curiosity has somehow been piqued.

Sirius, however, merely shrugs again, casually. “Just wanted to look something up. You don’t want to know more, though.” His trademark mischievous smirk is back on his face as he says this, and Regulus doesn’t doubt for one second that his brother is right. When he’s grinning like this, Regulus’ best course of action is to stay ignorant.

“Alright then,” he says dismissively, turning back to his Potions book.

He can’t concentrate on the text in front of him, though, because Sirius doesn’t seem to leave; Regulus can’t hear him retreating or closing the door.

Sure enough, after a couple of moments, Sirius’ voice reaches him again, softly yet clearly audible. “Are you happy, Reg?” It doesn’t sound judgmental but rather genuinely concerned.

Still, Regulus doesn’t know how to respond, and he doesn’t turn around to face Sirius.

Is he happy? He’s certainly not happy about his nightmares. Or about having to distance himself from his brother. But that’s for the best, he’s sure of it. Other than that… He is happy he’s found friends, and he looks forward to seeing them again, to going back to Hogwarts, together with Sirius, even if they have to stay apart. Does this constitute happiness?

As it turns out, Sirius doesn’t expect a reply.

“Don’t answer, Reggie,” he says, his voice gentle. “Just… think about it.”

The next sound Regulus hears is that of his door softly clicking shut.