Author's Note: Thank you to my reviewer Ssooooooooo for reminding me to update. Given the pandemic, I've been a little lax on writing, and had to put my efforts into some other things, but I'm still here, I promise :)

His Earned Position

Mother's owl came at breakfast on Sunday with her reply to Regs' letter. She didn't know of Professor Burd, but she would look into him. She was already convinced that he was an insufficient replacement for Summerfield, who had already been of inferior breeding. Regs nodded to himself and tucked the letter away. It was unlikely that knowing if Professor Burd's background was unsavoury would lead to any changes in the Hogwarts staff; Professor Flitwick was a clear example of that. But at least Regs would know and then he could behave around the teacher accordingly.

That week, Regs wondered which teacher he might approach to give him permission to enter the restricted section of the library. Crouch's comment about what Dark magic might be hidden there had intrigued him. Certainly he was unlikely to get it from Flitwick or McGonagall, who would want to know exactly what book and information he was looking for. Sprout was an unlikely option too… perhaps Professor Slughorn, though certainly the book would have to include potion-lore for him to be able to provide permission. Regs wasn't even certain what book he wanted to borrow. Really, he just wanted to browse.

Their homework load increased slightly, but Regs was still finding the material easy. History of Magic was still overlapping with what he had studied at home, as was Potions. In Herbology they had moved into some more dangerous plants, and Astronomy had moved onto planetary moons and their properties. Despite their more numerous assignments, Regs still took two evenings to go down to the pitch and practice on his new broom. He thought he had a handle on it – so to speak – enough for the trials that were being held in the upcoming weekend, anyway.

That week, on Wednesday night, four seventh year Slytherins stood quietly from the common room and left together. Regs watched them leave: Henry Rosier, Michael Blishwick, William Orpington and Douglas Goyle. Tonight was the full moon, and they would be in charge. In the next half an hour, others slowly began to stretch and wander out, some more casually than others. Rabastan Lestrange, Adam Crabbe, Mary Eldridge, Preston Travers, and of course, Ciara, left from sixth year. Only the two new prefects, Gareth Bulstrode and Eleanor Burke left from fifth year. From fourth year, Regs saw, as expected, Evan Rosier, Eadric Avery and Gordon Mulciber. Marion Bletchley and Martha Delaney went from third year, and of course, only Regs and Nott attended from their own dorm.

In the darkened chamber, seated around the dais with their new leaders arranged across the front, the secret meeting began. As Regs had expected, Blishwick and Orpington stood like bookends, arms crossed menacingly. They had posted Crabbe and Eldridge by the door as guards, and locked and silenced the door with a great deal of ceremony. Rosier and Goyle conferred briefly together and then Rosier cleared his throat.

"Welcome back, everyone," he said loudly. "As usual, the new seventh years will be running the show for this year's meetings. If you have any problems or questions, you bring them to us. At the next meeting, we'll organise the duelling schedule for fifth to seventh years in the usual place. I'm looking forward to testing the new blood," he added with a nasty smirk, glancing over to the two fifth year prefects, neither of whom gave any indication of nervousness or fear. Gareth Bulstrode had his arms crossed like Blishwick and Orpington, and Eleanor Burke just examined her nails.

"Before we start, does anyone have business that they'd like to bring up?" Rosier said, looking around the room. There was suddenly a lot of shuffling. "No? Well, think on it, and maybe you might later. I want to summarise what I know of the most important topic that we discuss here: Lord Voldemort."

The room went quiet. Regs felt a prickle of energy wash over him and he straightened, leaning in.

"Or, as he is often called, the Dark Lord. For he uses Dark magic in ways that baffles the Ministry of Magic!" Rosier crowed. "He's got them running scared. Anyone who speaks out against his ideals disappears – or has a nasty accident." Chuckles echoed around the room.

"He's bringing wizarding society back to what it used to be, to what it should be. He's pruning the unworthy. He believes in us!" Rosier thumped his chest. "We know how magic should be, we know how it should be treated. But only the Dark Lord and his loyal supporters seem to understand what to do about. And they do it! Has anyone heard what he's calling his followers now?" Rosier paused.

"Death Eaters!" someone called out. Rosier nodded slowly.

"Yes, Death Eaters! They're going to stop the death of magic and bring us all into a new age of freedom! Wizards and witches shouldn't have to hide who they are, slink through the streets in case the muggles see us! So what if they do? Why are we afraid of what they'll find out? We have magic! We have power they can never understand."

Regs nodded along with his fellow Slytherins, some of whom had begun to whoop and cheer. Rosier was a good speaker, and what he was saying was what Regs had been thinking all along. Lestrange had said much the same last year. There was so much they could improve upon, so much they could do. He wondered how many of the students who sat here in this room would one day call themselves Death Eaters. He liked the name. They would eat the death of magic and bring the wizards out of hiding at last. No more pandering to the Ministry!

Regs looked about the room and saw the smiles and light on the faces of the others who were gathered here. The enlightened. A little way along the bench, Nott sat stiffly, silent as ever. Regs couldn't see his face very well, but the boy seemed expressionless. Regs really would have to get inside his head.

It was well after curfew when they got back to the dorm. Parkinson and Wilkins were already asleep but there were no sleepy sounds coming from Elias' bed. Nott went straight behind his own curtains and Regs took one last look out the window before going to his own bed.

"Regs?" came a faint whisper from Elias' bed. Regs paused.

"Yeah? You're still awake?"

"Yeah. I guess I wanted to make sure you came back okay. Didn't get caught?"

Regs smiled in the darkness. "No, we were fine. I think Slughorn makes sure there's no one about on full moon nights. Thanks, Elias."

"No worries," Elias whispered. There was a moment of silence. "Goodnight, Regs."

"Goodnight, Elias."


Elias, Nott and a couple of the girls from their year – Judith Mulciber and Joanna Tripe – came down to the pitch to watch the Slytherin quidditch team trials on the weekend, a cool but sunny Saturday.

Peregrine Bole had his broom, the new Cleansweep, leant against one of the goalposts as he waited for everyone to gather. He was dressed in the sleek green and silver quidditch robes, looking supremely relaxed. He smirked when he saw Regs and eyed Regs' broom with a calculating gaze. Regs stood by the others who had come to try out and waited for things to begin. He was quietly confident.

"So," Bole said loudly, over the chatter of the crowd he had gathered, "I want to introduce you all to the current members of the Slytherin team, who will be assisting me with trials today. Rabastan Lestrange, who was last year's seeker, will be playing beater this year; Gareth Bulstrode is our other beater, Lucinda Sykes is one of our chasers, and our keeper is Mary Eldridge. I'm Peregrine Bole and I play chaser. So, today we're looking for a seeker and another chaser. If you were hoping to fly as a beater or keeper, I'm sorry but you're out of luck."

There were a few disappointed murmurs and a couple of people trudged back to the stands. There were about twelve people left.

"Let's start with a few laps around the pitch," Bole said. "We'll see how well you can fly, first."

Regs waited until most of the other hopeful students had taken off and mounted his broom carefully. He flew low and steady around the pitch, taking no risks with the touchy broom. Bole sent two from the field when he called them back down.

"Alright, who's trying out for chaser?" Bole called. "Step to this side. Seekers over there."

Regs was up against only two others – Susan Wilkes, a sixth year, and Eadric Avery, in fourth year. Regs had never spoken to Wilkes before, but he knew she had a fourth-year sister in Hufflepuff. Avery, of course, was one of the pureblood children that Regs had spent time with in his youth. It was Avery's group of friends and associates – Flint, Rosier, Mulciber – that Mother would have preferred that Regs spend more time with. Well, perhaps he could use this as an opportunity to start.

"Avery," Regs said, nodding to the older boy.

"Black," Avery smirked. "Snitch-catcher, are you?"

"That's the plan," Regs drawled. "Had a good start to the year?"

Avery rolled his eyes. "Small talk?" He sighed. "Well, if we must. Defence is a joke. I have no idea what the school was thinking, hiring Burd. What a waste of time."

Regs snorted. "You mean, what Dumbledore was thinking. He's a disgrace to Hogwarts. Wish we could get some real practice, like some of the older students." He gave Avery a meaningful look.

Avery sneered. "Oh, yes. Duelling club. School sanctioned duelling clubs are rubbish. But what those others get up to…" He shook his head. "I don't know why we can't all be in on the fun. Why should they restrict it to fifth years and up? Bastards."

Regs was nodding along, when Bole called them over.

"Okay, would-be seekers. I've got our potential chasers running some drills with the others, so I want you lot to chase the balls I'm throwing around for you." Bole hefted a small, hard-looking ball in his hand. "Let's see who can catch the most."

Regs nodded to Avery and mounted his broom.

"Oh," Bole added with a grin, "keep any eye out for the bludgers. Rabastan and Gareth are testing all of you on your dodging skills." With that ominous statement, the captain swung smoothly onto his broom and took off, quickly hurtling into the sky.

Regs wasted no more time talking to his competitors and leapt onto his broom. The Nimbus shuddered briefly. In the air, he cast a glance over the chasers, who were throwing a quaffle among each other as they moved from one end of the pitch to the other. Eldridge was hovering around the goals they were heading to. Regs looked around for Bole and found him flying beneath everyone else, a small ball in hand. As Regs watched, he lifted and threw the ball – away from Regs.

Regs streaked after the ball, which, unlike a snitch, did not take off on its own. It was easy to determine the direction of the ball and where it was going to be. His broom went so fast that he could feel the skin on his face pulling back. He reached the ball just as Wilkes got there, and managed to snag it right as she reached for it.

"Good," he heard Bole say from a distance. "Drop them on the ground when you catch them, seekers."

Regs dropped the ball and looked for Bole again. The captain had already thrown another ball and was going after the one that Regs had dropped. Avery was already much closer to the ball than Regs, so he waited for Bole's next throw. Eldridge was chasing Avery down. Bole threw the next ball into the midst of the chasers and Regs ducked into the fray, diving and ducking between the other players. He rolled under Bulstrode too quickly and the broom bucked wildly, but he went with the new direction and came up on the other side of the beater, still following the ball. After he'd caught three balls, he heard a sharp whistling sound and leant into his broom, dropping ten feet instantly as a bludger streaked overhead.

Regs looked around and saw Rabastan Lestrange grinning at him nastily. Well, that wasn't unexpected. For the rest of the trial, Regs pulled out all the stops to avoid the bludger that Rabastan seemed determined to hit him with. He certainly managed to bruise some of the other players by accident while trying to hit Regs, but Regs avoided the ball every time. In fact, he found that the instability of his broom meant that his avoidance manoeuvres were unpredictable and the bludgers – and beaters – had trouble following him.

Finally, exhausted and having no idea how well his competitors had done, Regs dropped back to the ground as Bole recalled them all.

"Great work, everyone," Bole said, looking windswept but fresh and cheerful. "Very good. We'll take Richard Fawley for chaser -" He was briefly interrupted by a cheer and some disappointed groans. Bole grinned at the unhappy players. "Go take a shower. Wash off the disappointment and be ready to cheer us on when we play our first game."

The main body of students trudged off, and some of the observers in the stands left as well. Bole surveyed his three seekers and pursed his lips. "By my count, Wilkes caught twenty-five, and Avery and Black caught thirty-two each. Sorry, Wilkes."

The sixth year shrugged and left. Bole sighed and looked at Avery and Regs. "I can't take you both. I've heard good things about you Avery, but I'm going to take Black. He's got more years in him, and I think he would have caught more if he hadn't spent so much time dodging bludgers." Bole glanced at Rabastan, who glowered at Regs. "Sorry, Avery."

Avery scowled at Black but nodded. "Fair play. Good show, Black." He shook Bole's hand and left the pitch.

"We'll practice three times a week for now," Bole said to the Slytherin quidditch team, and Regs shivered with delight – he'd made the team! He'd done it! Slytherin seeker, Regulus Black. "So I'll see you again on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Anyone got Astronomy on those nights?"

None of them did, and Bole released them to go shower. "Regulus – a moment."

Regs hung back, trying not to let the broad smile he was holding back spread across his face. "Yes, captain?"

Bole grinned. "None of that, now. You did good. You're as good as you said you would be. But show me that broom of yours; I've never seen anything like it before."

Regs held out the handle obligingly. "No, it's a prototype, so I'd be surprised if you'd seen it before. It will be the new Nimbus. It has stability issues on tight corners and fast turns, but I'm working them out."

"I noticed," Bole said dryly. "You might be able to use that to your advantage. It certainly has the fastest acceleration I've seen on anything modern."

Regs nodded. "That why I wanted it."

Bole clapped him on the shoulder. "Good man. I hope Rabastan blew off a bit of steam pummelling bludgers at you like that today, but I think he'll be more annoyed that he never managed to hit you. He got just about everyone else, I think. He really was wasted as a seeker."

"Well, my brother played beater when we were kids," Regs said, shrugging. "I got a lot of practice dodging bludgers."

Bole laughed. "I see. Let me know if he gives you any trouble. I promoted him to beater at the end of last year, but he'll probably still consider you to have usurped his position."

"Yes, unfortunately he was aware of my intention to play as seeker last year," Regs commented. "I'll be fine."

"All the same, you let me know," Bole ordered. "Alright, shower and lunch, Black. Got some stamina to build up before we play Gryffindor."

"Yes, captain!" Regs replied, and ducked under Bole's shove. "I'm going."

He went to the stands where Elias whooped and cheered for him.

"I thought you must have it, because he sent Avery away," Elias said excitedly. "But you weren't even smiling, so I couldn't tell!"

"I didn't want the others to feel bad," Regs said, grinning now. "I did it!" He pumped his fist in the air and spun around. "I'm the Slytherin seeker!"

"Congratulations," Nott said dryly. "Now you've increased your chances of ending up in the Hospital Wing."

Regs just laughed. "Not me! Lestrange didn't hit me once."

"I'm not sure it's Lestrange you'll have to worry about once you're actually playing matches," Elias frowned. "Patrick's right, you'll have to be careful."

"Now look what you've done," Regs complained to Nott. "I had him all fired up. I spent two hours on that!"

Elias laughed.

"Come on," Regs said, shouldering his broom. "I want something nice for lunch, to celebrate."

After he had showered and the three of them were sitting in the Great Hall for lunch, Regs felt the prickle of someone watching him and made a casual sweep of the Hall, looking for his observer. When he realised it was only Sirius, sitting at the Gryffindor table, he relaxed slightly.

"Be back in a moment," he said quietly to Elias and Nott and got to his feet, catching Sirius' eye and heading into the Entrance Hall. He waited beneath the bannister for only a few moments before his brother came out of the Great Hall and looked about for a moment. Spotting Regs, he hurried over to him.

"Regs! You made seeker!" he exclaimed and made an abortive motion like he'd wanted to sweep Regs into a great hug but thought better of it. "Well done!"

Regs couldn't repress his smile. "Thanks, Sirius." And he meant it. Sirius probably could play as a beater for Gryffindor – if not this year, then before he graduated, for he was probably good enough. But Regs knew that this was the day Sirius had anticipated; that Regs would play for one team and Sirius couldn't bring himself to play for the other. Regs was grateful that he would never have that concern. That Sirius had deprived himself of an opportunity for his brother's sake was very telling; it was not a sacrifice that Regs would ever have made, and it was not a sacrifice that the heir of a noble house should have to make. The younger should defer to the older – but ever since Sirius had demonstrated his natural tendency to be soft rather than hard, kind rather than ruthless, reckless rather than cautious, their family had never held Regs back from anything. He was encouraged to achieve all that he should achieve, regardless that Sirius should be leading as was proper. An investment, Regs had always thought. Sirius was not the only bright star in their family.

"I'll still be cheering for Gryffindor," Sirius said, holding up a finger with a grin, "but I'll be watching." And his eyes were silver-warm and fond.

Regs felt the pull of longing again and focused his thoughts. "I would expect no less."

Sirius seemed to look at him closely, as though searching for something. "Doing okay down in the dungeons there, Regs? Your housemates treating you alright?"

Regs was forcibly reminded of Nott's revulsion at being fussed over and tried to shrug off his own irritation. "Of course. I'm going to broaden my circle of acquaintances this year. There are many older students whose camaraderie I would greatly benefit from."

Sirius looked alarmed and looked over his shoulder about the hall. "Be careful, Regs. Some of those kids have strange ideas. Avery's group, you remember them? They're not opposed to playing around with some pretty dark stuff."

Regs felt the cold darkness come over him, crystallising like silver, and his eyes narrowed. Sirius clamped his mouth shut and took a step back as Regs straightened. His anger sharpened.

"Thank you for your concern," he said icily. "But I am accustomed to looking after myself, not that it is needed among my own housemates. Watch yourself, Sirius."

Sirius' hands were curled into frustrated fists. "Damn it, Regs! I just want you to be careful!"

Sirius might think that Regs was falling onto some dark path, that he needed saving from himself, but he was wrong. Regs didn't need saving. Sirius would need saving soon, however, if he didn't shut his mouth.

"Enough," Regs hissed. "I am exactly as careful as I need to be." And with that, he shouldered past his brother and went back into the Great Hall, to his plate of cold lunch. Elias hesitated when Regs sat down, still radiating cold anger.

"Are you okay?" Elias asked, looking a trifle frightened. Regs sent him a tight-lipped smile.

"Fine. Just my interfering brother." He purposefully did not look when Sirius came back into the room. "It's fine."