Author's Note: Hope everyone is doing okay in their respective corners of the world. As requested by Ssooooooooo, a new chapter. And just to start off 2021, it's a slightly longer one. I'm going to TRY to do some more writing this year so that I can update more frequently, but as ever no promises. The world is a weird place right now.

His Own Curses

After that, Regs tried to ignore his brother whenever Sirius passed him in the hallways, which was not often, given that their common rooms were so far from each other. Regs worked hard in his classes as they began to learn new spells and potions. Slughorn was as effusively pleased with Regs' work as he had been last year, gushing over his Strengthening Solution, though Regs could see that there were three other tables that had done just as well as he had. Once again, he was invited to a Christmas party as part of the Slug Club, through Christmas was still months away. In Charms, they were learning the Freezing Charm, Immobulus, a useful spell for stopping moving objects for a brief period of time. In front of Flitwick, Regs took careful notes and intoned the spell over and over as his classmates were doing, but produced no results.

Once he'd been given remedial homework to practice the spell, Regs tracked down Ciara and asked for her help again.

"I thought you were doing alright on your own by the end of last year?" Ciara said, frowning, as they stood in the scorch-marked duelling room they had used before.

Regs grimaced. "I was, but it's not just catch-up lessons I'm asking for."

Ciara raised an eyebrow and smirked at him. "Oh?"

"I want to learn spells that I'm missing out on in Defence Against the Dark Arts this year," he said plainly. "Professor Burd – well, I don't know what his deal is, but his classes are almost entirely theoretical. Plus, the spells that you taught me last year that weren't on the syllabus have certainly come in handy. I'd like a few more."

"I see," Ciara said and tapped her chin, looking at him closely. "Well, I suppose I've got some time for that. Once a week? You're going to be very busy with Quidditch as well."

Regs sighed. "I know. But this is important."

"Yes, it is," she agreed. "Wednesdays, then."

And so, every Wednesday, they met in the duelling room after dinner and Ciara helped him to focus his spellcasting. Finally, with a huge effort, Regs was able to cast Immobulus on a falling feather, so that it floated very gently in the air for a few seconds and then fell again. She taught him the second-year spells that she had learnt in her time in Defence Against the Dark Arts: the Knockback Jinx, the Tickling Charm and, of course, the Disarming Charm. It took him weeks to master them consistently, but he brought Elias and Nott into the practice room on nights when they had half an hour free and they practiced together, casting the spells on one another. Elias was masterful at tickling and Nott was infallible with Expelliarmus. Regs eventually performed both with his usual level of control. But it was the Knockback Jinx that he had to be careful with.

Both Elias and Nott could make their target stumble, but could not bring them down completely. They'd found a soft carpet in one of the other empty rooms in the dungeons that they were using the soften the falls, but it hadn't quite been necessary yet. After Regs lay rolling on the floor with laughter as Elias cast Rictusempra on him yet again, he sat up, trying to catch his breath.

"Okay, time for knockback," he said, gasping. "One of us has to get it properly tonight."

Elias volunteered first to be the victim, and Nott raised his wand.

"Flipendo!" he cried and the whoosh of the spell ruffled their robes. Elias jerked and wobbled but kept his feet. Nott shrugged.

"Your turn, Regulus."

Regs took his position and blew out a breath. He closed his eyes and slanted his Occlumency barriers so that he was focusing only on his own ability to push Elias to the ground, to throw him back and force him off his feet.

"Flipendo!" he said and opened his eyes. Elias hadn't even budged, and he was looking very apologetic about it. "Flipendo! Flipendo! For Merlin's sake!" Regs growled and spun around glaring at the wall.

"Regs -"

"Wait," Regs ordered. "One more time." He turned about again. "Patrick, would you mind standing nearby in case Elias misses the rug? Maybe you can freeze him if goes too far."

Nott raised an eyebrow sceptically, for Regs had shown no sign of success so far, but did as Regs had asked. Elias grinned at Regs reassuringly. He'd seen what Regs could do when he really managed.

"Okay," Regs muttered and tried to relax. "Okay." He took a deep breath. Throw him back, throw him back… knock him off his feet, throw him back… throw – him – BACK!

"Flipendo!" he roared and with a giant surge, felt the magic connect. His eyes flew open and he was already whipping his wand around to cast again, for both Elias and Nott were hurtling towards the far wall, their cries of surprise ringing in his ears. "IMMOBULUS!"

The second spell barely caught them in time, slowing their flight just enough so that they didn't slam against the back wall. Regs threw himself forwards and managed to grab an arm of each of his friends and pull them down just as the spell faltered, so that they crumpled to the ground.

"Bloody blazing hell, Black!" Nott coughed, none too pleased. "What in the name of Merlin's stinking underpants was that?"

"Are you alright?" Regs asked them both, wincing as they struggled to their feet. "I'm terribly sorry about that."

Elias bent over his knees, winded. "Just give me a moment."

Nott didn't look so forgiving. "How did you do that? Was that another spell like the Incendio you did last year?"

Regs nodded. "I'm afraid so. You've noticed that spells don't come easily to me. It takes me longer than anyone else to cast them and get them right every time. But if I take my time and really, really concentrate, then sometimes they come out right – but too much – too strong."

Nott stared at Regs. "Is that how you can – you know, do the other sort of magic?" He gestured to Regs' wand.

"I think so," Regs replied. "That also takes a huge effort, and usually for much smaller results."

"You should see his Wand-Extinguishing Charm," Elias remarked. "I swear it makes everything darker than it was before."

"Blimey," Nott muttered. "Well, don't ever cast one of those strong ones on me again, alright? I signed up for extra practice, not a trip to the Hospital Wing."

Regs nodded. "Sure thing. I am sorry," he added.


Professor Burd made no moves to teach them practical spellcasting, but instead had them doing a lot of reading and discussing the use of different spells. He liked to foster discussion about how a spell might be countered. His theory was that if they spent enough time talking about the different possibilities, they would be quicker to think of them in a real combat scenario, rather than panicking and trying something stupid. Mother wrote back to Regs again, saying that she could find nothing unsavoury in Professor Burd's lineage – he was a lesser pureblood and had been a tutor for many years. Regs was disappointed but accepting. He had to admit that the discussions were certainly interesting, despite the lack of practical application.

Regs shared what he knew about their Defence professor in October's full moon meeting.

"He's not of bad blood," Regs said, from his place on the dais. "Just a very theoretical teacher."

Rosier nodded slowly. "Well, you can't win them all. We'll spend a lot of time practicing spells in our duelling sessions. Fifth years and up stay behind tonight to set up the schedule."

"What about the rest of us?" called out Eadric Avery. "That's all very well for the upper years, but we need practice too."

Rosier sneered at the fourth-year. "Are you taking OWLS or NEWTs? No? Then your need isn't as great as ours. We had to wait, and you do too."

Avery scowled but subsided. He knew he didn't have any power in these meetings. The sixth and seventh years had it all.

Quidditch practices were hard work. Bole had them performing drills endlessly, trying to build up their speed, stamina and flexibility. He was stern and unyielding during sessions and friendly outside of them. Regs liked his attitude, it was professional and effective and it meant that their captain was open to suggestions before and after practice, but took no criticism while he was in charge. Rabastan Lestrange and Gareth Bulstrode, their two beaters, were set to hitting bludgers towards targets through the midst of everyone else, who had to avoid their efforts. Bole had a proper snitch this time, and he let it roam freely as the others practiced, timing Regs to spot and catch it while avoiding chasers, beaters, bludgers and the quaffle. Every now and then, he called Rabastan down to play against Regs, as Rabastan had had experience playing seeker. Regs hated that Rabastan would have even more fuel to add to his ire when Regs consistently caught the snitch more often and faster than Rabastan, but Rabastan was an absolute menace with a beater's bat. Only Regs' broom and its unstable response to sharp turns meant that he avoided getting hit every time.

Their first game was in early November, against Gryffindor as was traditional. Regs didn't know who most of the team were – he didn't need to. He only needed to know where the snitch was. He was aware, of course, that James Potter was one of the chasers, but they shouldn't interact much beyond avoiding one another.

The day was cool but clear, and Regs was up early, ready to eat a good breakfast, but not too heavy. For a moment, he wished for Kreacher's adoring attention to detail, for the house elf would know exactly what Regs would want before a game like this. But he shook the feeling off, poured himself some pumpkin juice, and reached for the toast and porridge. Not much later, Elias and Nott came down and joined him. Elias was almost more excited than Regs was, restraining himself from bouncing in his seat with great difficulty. Nott, on the other hand, read his current book as he ate, and took little notice of the fact that it was a Quidditch match day at all.

The table filled up slowly, Parkinson and Wilkins and the girls all coming down together. They wished Regs good luck and chatted animatedly about the upcoming game, decked out in Slytherin scarves and banners.

A good hour before the game, Regs took his leave and stood to go down to the pitch. Bole stood as well, catching Regs' eye. They left the Great Hall, and went outside. Regs took a deep breath of the fresh air. Only a little bit of wind.

Bole didn't speak as they reached their changing rooms and changed into their Quidditch robes. Regs' set had had to be taken in a bit as he was much smaller than any of the spare robes that they'd had but they fit well enough now. Regs took up his broom and examined the twigs, making sure that they were all perfectly aligned.

"Nervous?" Bole asked.

Regs shook his head. "No, I'm ready." And he was. He'd practiced and he'd flown well every time; his broom was as good as it was going to get, and he was keen to get off the ground.

He'd not played a proper game before against another team – that was the only unknown here, but he would only learn by experiencing it.

Bole shrugged and laughed. "I always come down with new players, in case they need to go throw up in the bushes on the way down, but I've never seen anyone as steady as you, Regulus. I hope it holds onto the pitch."

Regs smiled. "Me too."

The rest of the team came in then, and there was a lot of whooping and shoving as they got changed as well. Almost too soon, they were lining up to walk onto the pitch and Regs felt his heartbeat pounding in his chest now. Ah, there were the nerves.

Elmsworth grinned at them all, his bushy moustache working furiously as he gave them the 'play clean' spiel. He blew his whistle and they kicked off, the sky immediately filling with fluttering robes and the yells of the players as they dove at the quaffle. Regs rocketed into the sky, getting free of the initial tangle of players and began to circle the pitch for his first scan for the snitch. The Gryffindor seeker was doing the same, but Regs wasn't going to stay high for long. Once the game had taken off and the first goal was scored – for Slytherin – he ducked into the playing field and swung between two Gryffindor chasers, fouling their pass. The quaffle dropped and Bole picked it up, swerving around a bludger. Regs concentrated fiercely, keeping an eye on the flash of gold he was looking for, but keeping a careful eye and ear out for bludgers and other players. He tried to be useful, getting in the way of Gryffindor players without actually fouling – he didn't want to give away any free shots – and of course without fouling the Slytherin players. He thought his efforts were helping – Slytherin were already 30 points up after fifteen minutes. As he wove in and out of the players, he caught glimpses of James Potter. The Gryffindor's face was fierce with concentration as he made daring leaps for the quaffle. Regs pulled clear of the swarm of chasers and beaters every so often to get an unobstructed view of the field, pulling up sharply to dodge a bludger. He saw a flash of gold and was after it as fast as his broom could handle, dropping down between two beaters and following the curve of the stands. Where was it?

"Gryffindor scores! Slytherin still lead 60-40."

He circled beneath play for a while, narrowly avoiding another bludger and watching the Gryffindor seeker in case she also spotted it, before pulling back up for another round of getting in the way. He collided briefly with a Gryffindor chaser who didn't see him in time to swerve away and Regs spun away from her, leaning in tightly to regain control of his broom. There was a sudden shout from the crowd and Regs streaked up and out – looking for the commotion – there! The Gryffindor seeker was chasing something – and they were coming up out of the playing field. Regs went down to meet them – they were going to have a head on collision – someone would have to pull away first – he didn't want it to be him but he didn't want to hurt himself –

At the last moment, Regs flung his broom sideways so that it slid the way he'd practiced – the other seeker veered slightly sideways, fearing a crash but Regs had swerved back around behind the snitch and they were neck and neck. Regs pressed himself tightly against the handle and pushed the last bit of speed out of his broom, diving as the snitch ducked and reached out and snatched it from the air. He dodged a last angry bludger and floated back down to the rest of the players, holding the ball aloft. He heard the whistle and the roar of the Slytherins as he grinned fit to split his face in half. He'd done it! First game and he'd shown them all! His heart leapt and he laughed as Bole flew in to pound him on the back and Mary Eldridge whooped in his ear as they drifted to the ground. Lucinda Sykes kept racing in circles around them, unwilling to get off her broom.

The Gryffindor team was scowling and Regs caught a look at Potter's face – the older boy was bitterly disappointed, and Regs hurriedly looked away before he could be caught watching.

The crowd in the common room was exhilarated. Regs tried to remember if any of Slytherin's wins last year had got his housemates so excited. Had his interesting tactics made for a better game and a more jubilant win?

He had little time to dwell on it as the Slytherins celebrated that evening, sitting around the fireplace laughing and whooping and filling up every chair in the common room with students playing cards, gobstones and chess. Regs sat with Elias and Parkinson and Wilkins and some of the girls, and nearby was Darius Flint and George Bulstrode and Marion Bletchley from third year. Bartemius Crouch and Harry Greengrass and Ursa Flint were sat on cushions on the floor, and as Regs looked around, feeling rather contented, he noticed that the only students he couldn't see were Nott – who was upstairs, avoiding the crowd – and Snape. Perhaps the third year was also hiding from the large group.

"Will you bring Morgana down?" Judith Mulciber pleaded. "You never let her wander, but she sounds so darling."

Elias' face lit up. "Oh, she is! She's still pretty young; I don't want her to spook with so many people about."

"Just for a few minutes?" Judith wheedled. Joanna Tripe, Sylvia Montague and Tabitha Burke joined in, and Elias quickly caved, beaming under so many voices raised in praise for his new pet. Regs smiled, watching his friend go upstairs to fetch the small cat.

Regs watched Crouch win a game of chess against Greengrass. There was a stir in the corner of the room where Ciara and some of her year mates gathered around a spread of books. Regs watched for a moment, but he couldn't determine what they were talking about and let his gaze wander again. Someone had put the wireless on, and the cheerful sound of music drifted over the chatter of students relaxing on a Saturday night.

Elias came back downstairs, holding a squirming bundle of white-grey fur. He put her on the table that the second years had been sitting around and she crouched, sniffing the air with interest. The coos and sighs of delight that came from the girls made Elias grin and he glanced at Regs who grinned back at him. The girls happily pet the small cat, eager to be the one that Morgana chose to approach first. Elias hovered, careful not to let the feline jump off the table.

The common room door opened and Regs glanced around, sitting up straight when he realised who it was. Severus Snape, sporting a great tear in his robes and with his lanky hair looking terrible mussed came lunging inside, panting. He looked wildly around the common room with his back against the wall. A few others noticed him come in and Regs heard a few whispers break out, even a small chuckle. Regs pursed his lips.

He got to his feet, nudging Elias. "I'll be back in a bit," he murmured. "Don't wait up for me if I'm late."

Elias gave him a worried look. "Where are you going?"

Regs shook his head. "Later."

He left Elias and Wilkins and Parkinson to look after Morgana and entertain the girls, and headed towards the common room door. As he passed Snape, he gave the boy a swift glance. Closer up, Snape was furious. His eyes were dark and his mouth was tight, and his wand was in his hand between clenched fingertips.

Snape glared at him, probably expecting pity or scorn. Regs gave him neither. The look he gave Snape was searching, but he did not linger beside the third year. The stone wall melted before him and he went out into the cold corridor. The torches flickered in their brackets against the wall and Regs went quickly towards the hidden archway, where only those who had the Slytherin crest could pass. Beyond that hallway, the torches were dark.

Out in the main dungeon halls, he paused and listened. There were low, angry voices somewhere nearby. Keeping close to the walls, he slid nearer, listening carefully until he could discern what they were saying.

"…he's an absolute bastard, Remus!"

"You can't blame him for hitting back."

"With a spell like that? That's not on the bloody syllabus for third years!"

There was a quiet whimper.

"I mean, look what he's done to Peter!"

"Do you need the Hospital Wing, Peter?"

Another whimper.

"Come on, James. We should go. Someone else might come along."

Potter groaned. "Sirius is going to be furious he missed this."

"Well, he shouldn't have bewitched Professor Sprout's hat and got detention."

Regs had heard enough. It wasn't his business. Sirius wasn't even with them, from what he could tell. Snape had to take his own curses. But he'd seen this lot too close to the Slytherin rooms once too many. And Sirius had chosen his friends poorly. He stepped around the corner, slipped his wand into his hand, tucked it close to his leg and waited quietly.

In the darkness, Regs saw the halfblood, Lupin, helping Pettigrew to his feet. Pettigrew was clutching one hand to his face, where a strange growth seemed to be protruding. James Potter was scowling down one of the branching hallways. He turned to glance where Regs was standing and yelled in shock, raising his wand.

"Stop!" Regs commanded, holding out his empty hand. He wouldn't have James Potter firing on him blindly. "Lumos!"

"Who's that?" Pettigrew shrieked, cowering behind Lupin. Lupin put a reassuring hand on his friend and all three of them blinked at the sudden light.

"Regulus? Regulus Black?" James Potter said incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

"These are the dungeons," Regs said sardonically. "I live here. What are you doing here?"

"You're always showing up unexpectedly," Potter said suspiciously. "Are you following us?"

"I live here, Potter," Regs repeated slowly. "Too many duels rattled your brains? It's nearly curfew. You're a long way from home."

Potter bristled, and Regs wondered if the Gryffindor blamed Regs for his Quidditch loss today. Perhaps he should.

"James, let's go," Lupin said urgently. "Peter needs the Hospital Wing." Somehow, the peaky halfblood was the smartest one in that group.

Potter took a threatening step closer. Regs' fingers tightened on his wand. Suddenly he heard a small sound behind him, but he didn't turn to look. Someone stepped up next to him and Potter scowled and stepped back. From the corner of his eye, Regs realised that it was Nott, and he had his wand in hand – not up, just out.

"Fine," Potter said shortly. "We're going."

Regs lowered his wand. "Nox," he whispered. The hallway was plunged into inky blackness, and Regs grabbed Nott's arm and pulled him back around the corner quickly, listening to the sounds of confusion as the Gryffindors stumbled about in the dark.

"Lumos!"

"Where did they go?" Potter sounded frustrated. "That sneaky -"

"James, that's enough. Come on." Lupin's voice was rippling with frustration now. Potter grumbled but the sound of them became slowly fainter as they headed back to the Entrance Hall. Regs blew out a breath and lit his wand again.

Nott blinked owlishly. "Cooper wasn't kidding," he said. "Your Nox is very effective."

Regs began to laugh. "What brought you out here?"

"I came down and Elias said you'd gone out for some reason. He seemed worried." He shrugged. "Just thought I'd take a look."

"I appreciate it." Regs tucked his wand away. "Your timing was excellent."

"Trouble with Gryffindors?"

"Ah," Regs gestured vaguely. "My brother's friends. I don't think they like Slytherins much, and they come sneaking down here too often for my liking."

"How did you know they were here?" Nott raised an eyebrow.

"Snape came rushing back in. You know how they target him."

Nott gave Regs a blank stare. "You're protecting Snape? The halfblood? He's a waste of space. If the Gryffindors want him, they can have him."

Regs rolled his eyes. "I'm not protecting him! There's a saying in my family: you take your curses, or you learn to send them back. Snape has to fend for himself. I don't care about him. What I care about," he growled, "is my brother and his bloody gang."

Nott nodded slowly.

"He's been enough of an embarrassment to my family," Regs continued. "But this is beyond the pale. Now that my older cousins are out of Hogwarts, he's got no threat of family retaliation for his misdeeds. And those friends of his are just as bad. I don't care about Snape. But it bothers me that they think they can just run around attacking Slytherins. That's not my brother. I won't have it."

"Exactly what can you do about it though?" Nott asked. "It's not like you can stop them every time."

Regs sighed. "I don't know. Maybe I can get the prefects to keep an eye out for them down here. But it's not like detentions seem to deter them at all."

They headed back to the common room, shivering in the cold corridors. They turned down the archway and into the welcoming light of the torches.

"Sacred Twenty-Eight," Nott murmured to the blank stone wall and it opened, letting a rush of warm air out. Several students had gone up to their dormitories by now, and only Parkinson and Wilkins were left from the second-years, sitting by the fire. Nott and Regs went up to their room, and found Elias settling Morgana back into her basket by his bed.

"Everything okay?" he asked them.

"Yeah, just my brother's friends skulking around," Regs said in disgust. "We chased them off."

Elias frowned. "You should have said something, I would have come with you."

"I was only going to have a look at first," Regs replied. "But Potter was a bit salty about his loss on the pitch today." He smirked. "Nott didn't even say anything, but when he appeared, two was too many for them, I suppose. I didn't mean to leave you out, Elias. Besides, you had Morgana to look out for. She cope with the common room?"

"Oh, she loved all the attention," Elias said, his expression clearing. I think it'll be okay to let her wander around a bit more – under supervision, of course."

"Of course," Nott parroted.

As they got ready for bed, Regs wondered what Sirius would say when his friends told him that they'd seen him holding the Slytherin corridor against them. Well, it didn't matter what Sirius thought. Regs had never thought that Sirius would become a bully. Champion of righteousness, that one. But it hadn't been the first time. Wouldn't be the last either, he knew. Not that Snape seemed to be very much worse for wear from their encounters. Possibly he was more of a match for them than he seemed. Yes, Regs was going to watch him very carefully. He didn't think that Severus Snape was an enemy that one ought to underestimate.