The following Wednesday, Lily was cleaning the bedpans in the hospital wing when she heard the door creak open. She glanced at Madam Pomfrey, who was in the middle of casting an extremely complex Untransfiguration Charm on Davey Gudgeon, a Ravenclaw fourth year who had attempted to turn his fingers into dining utensils, with disastrous results. Madam Pomfrey paused her incantation just long enough to indicate that Lily should get the door.

Lily nodded, washed her hands, and pulled the door open. In front of her stood a tall, thin boy with straight dark hair, swaying as he clutched his stomach. He looked familiar; he was one of the new Slytherin prefects, wasn't he? She'd never spoken to him. During meetings, he always kept to himself, watching the other prefects with wary eyes.

The boy took an unsteady step forward, and Lily caught him. "Careful," she said. "Come on, I'll help you to a bed... that's it, easy now…" She kept her hand on his back as he staggered towards the nearest cot and collapsed onto the mattress.

Lily pulled the curtains closed and drew her wand. "I'm Lily Evans, Madam Pomfrey's apprentice," she said. "I've seen you in prefect meetings — remind me of your name?"

He glanced at her, his grey eyes bright with fever. "Regulus Black."

Lily nearly dropped her wand. Well, that explained a lot. He didn't look familiar because he was a prefect. He looked familiar because he was Sirius' younger brother.

"Oh," said Lily, feeling stupid. "Of course." She gripped her wand more tightly. "I need to examine you. Do you mind?"

Regulus shifted in the cot, looking away from her. He was silent for so long that she began to feel deeply embarrassed for even asking. He was a Black, one of the pure-blooded families that made up the Sacred Twenty-Eight. From what little she'd heard from Sirius, his relatives were all nasty pieces of work. Regulus would have recognized her blood status from her last name; he probably didn't want a Muggle-born touching him.

Finally, Regulus responded. He still wouldn't look at her. "Not… is Madam Pomfrey not… Does it have to be you?"

Lily's heart sank. "Madam Pomfrey in the middle of a complex Healing. I'm sure she'll examine you as soon as she can."

Regulus couldn't seem to get comfortable in the cot. He was probably in a considerable amount of pain, then. "How long… do you think…?"

"It's hard to say," said Lily. She hoped her voice sounded brisk and unaffected by his rejection. "Could be minutes, or a half hour. But if you're fine with waiting…"

Regulus took a moment to process this information. He seemed to be weighing the pain he was in against the indignity of being cared for by a Muggle-born. Finally, he grimaced. "You can… it's fine. Examine me."

Lily drew in a deep breath before responding. Sirius hadn't been wrong about his family being prejudiced. Regulus was clearly quite ill, but her pity for him was fading by the second. "Alright," she said. She'd start with the most obvious problem. "Are you having any pain?"

"Y-yes." Regulus' teeth were chattering.

"Where?"

"Stomach."

Lily hesitated. "Do you mind if I press on your stomach? It's to locate the pain."

Regulus' eyes met hers. He seemed as apprehensive as she was. "That's… fine." He rolled onto his back. As soon as she placed a hand on his midsection, he gasped.

"Sorry, sorry," said Lily hurriedly. She pressed down as gently as she could. "Do you know what happened? Was it something you ate, or…?"

"Curse," said Regulus. "It left… a mark." He gestured towards his abdomen.

Lily's breath caught, but she tried to remain calm. Curses that made you this ill were usually deadly. "Can I have a look?"

Regulus looked like he wanted to refuse, but he reached towards the collar of his robes. His hands were trembling so badly that he couldn't even undo the first set of buttons.

It was painful to watch. "Would you like my help?" asked Lily.

Regulus' hands stilled. After a moment, he nodded.

Lily carefully undid the buttons of his robes, down to his abdomen. There, directly above his navel, was what appeared to be a burn mark. She realized with a shudder that the wound was moving.

"Erm," she said. Curses were so far out of her league that she had no idea where to start. "When did —"

Regulus began to retch loudly. Lily jumped back as vomit splattered the cot and the floor.

"Let me just, erm, get Madam Pomfrey," she said, Vanishing the sick with a wave of her wand. "I'll be back, alright?"

Regulus sank back into the cot. He closed his eyes and gave a short nod.

Madam Pomfrey was still working on Davey Gudgeon, though he appeared to have reacquired human thumbs. "I'm sorry to interrupt," said Lily, placing a hand on Madam Pomfrey's shoulder, "but Regulus Black just came in, and he — he's been cursed. He doesn't look good, and I — I don't know what to do…"

Madam Pomfrey nodded and stood up. "Sit tight, Gudgeon," she said firmly. "I'll be back before you can say 'cutlery.' And no touching your face under any circumstances. Am I clear?"

"Why can't he touch his face?" asked Lily as she followed Madam Pomfrey to Regulus' cot.

"He's still got knives for fingers, the idiot," said Madam Pomfrey, drawing back the curtain around Regulus' cot. "Can't risk him putting an eye out, I'm not getting a new shipment of eyeballs till next week."

Madam Pomfrey took one look at Regulus' pale, shaking form and immediately began tracing complex wand movements above his bed. "When did this happen?" she asked Regulus.

"Saturday."

For an instant, Madam Pomfrey looked shocked, which scared Lily more than anything she'd seen so far; Madam Pomfrey never lost her professional demeanour. "And you waited four days before coming in? Foolish boy. Do you have a death wish?"

Regulus' breaths were short and shallow. "No. I thought… it might burn itself out. Some curses do."

"While other fester and kill," replied Madam Pomfrey. "Foolish, foolish boy." She passed her wand over the charred mark on Regulus' stomach, which began to smoke. Lily coughed as a very foul smell filled the air.

"Not pleasant, is it?" asked Madam Pomfrey, who seemed unaffected by the stench. "Dark Magic will do that. I suggest a Bubblehead Charm."

Lily complied, and Madam Pomfrey turned back towards Regulus. "This is going to hurt," she said. "I suggest sleeping through it."

Regulus nodded. His teeth were still chattering. Madam Pomfrey passed her wand over Regulus' face, and at once his eyes closed. His angular features relaxed, and the furrow between his brows faded.

Madam Pomfrey began to mutter in a language that sounded guttural. It was nothing like the other Healing Spells Lily had been exposed to, which sounded like songs. This was something entirely different. After a moment, the growl of another, deeper voice filled the air around them, and Lily's heart skipped a beat. The wound was talking back.

Thick black smoke began to pour out of the charred area of Regulus' stomach. "Leeches," said Madam Pomfrey, startling Lily. "Bring me a jar of leeches. Medicine cabinet, central shelf, bottom left."

It took Lily less than a minute to locate the jar. "Place one on the wound," said Madam Pomfrey. As soon as Lily placed the leech on Regulus' blackened stomach, it latched onto his skin. Lily felt a bit queasy as the leech began to swell, growing rounder and rounder.

Madam Pomfrey Vanished the leech right as it was about to burst. "Next." Lily carefully placed another leech where the first had been. She wasn't sure if she was imagining things, but the wound looked like it had gone from pitch black to a dark, dark grey.

In the end, it took more than twenty leeches to suck out the entirety of the curse. The scorched wound grew lighter and lighter until it had faded completely. Countless tiny bite marks were scattered across Regulus' abdomen, slowly oozing black bile.

"Would you like to try to heal the cuts?" asked Madam Pomfrey.

"Erm, if you're certain," said Lily, drawing her wand. "I mean curses, they scar easily. I wouldn't want to…" She trailed off. She'd only healed minor scrapes before. What would Regulus say if a Muggle-born left him permanently scarred?

"The curse has been removed," said Madam Pomfrey firmly. "What's left is well within your capabilities. When you have finished, you may wake him. In the meantime, I'll see to Davey."

Lily nodded, and Madam Pomfrey disappeared behind the curtains. Lily took a deep breath and pointed her wand at the bite marks. The Blacks would have her head if she mutilated one of their heirs. "Carnes restituit," she said softly, reciting the opening words to the Vulnera sanentur. She moved her wand in small, precise circles while she cast the spell. To her satisfaction, the cuts slowly closed, leaving only tiny, silver lines.

Lily let out a sigh of relief and pointed her wand at Regulus' face. "Rennervate."

Regulus' eyelids fluttered open, and he focused blearily on her face. "What…" he said, blinking. "You…"

"You're in the hospital wing," said Lily. Sometimes patients were disoriented upon waking. "Madam Pomfrey put you to sleep so that we could remove a curse. I'm her apprentice, Lily Evans."

Regulus' eyes widened in recognition. He looked down at his stomach, which bore no trace of the scorched mark.

"The scars should fade in a week or so," said Lily, flushing a little. "Madam Pomfrey could have closed the cuts better than I, but she had to tend to… some cutlery..."

Regulus' grey eyes met hers. "Thank you."

"I was glad to help."

"I didn't make it easy, did I?" said Regulus. "You're a good witch."

Lily's cheeks were burning. He doesn't mean it, she told herself. Patients tended to be emotionally labile after waking up.

"Honestly?" she said. "I was half expecting you to refuse to let me even touch you."

Regulus' thin lips pressed together. It was almost a smile. "To tell you the truth, so was I."

They looked at each other for a moment. Lily broke the silence first. "Who did this, anyway? Someone in your House?"

"Someone in your House," said Regulus. "And I deserved it."

"Nobody deserves a curse like that."

Regulus looked like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "There are people out there who absolutely deserve to be cursed. Bad people. Surely you, with your… heritage... would know that."

"Oh." She knew what he was implying. Death Eaters. "But you — you're not one of those people." At least, she didn't think so. Regulus was prejudiced, of course, but he was no Death Eater. "Right?"

Regulus looked away, saying nothing. After a moment, he tried to sit up, but Lily put a hand on his shoulder. "I think Madam Pomfrey wants you to spend the night. Just in case."

"Smart witch," said Regulus. "Both of you."

Heat began to rise up Lily's neck again. "I — er — if you're alright, I should probably go… See if Madam Pomfrey needs help…"

Regulus nodded, settling back down into the cot and closing his eyes. "I owe you, Lily."

Lily tried not to seem startled at the use of her first name. He was still waking up, after all. "Get some rest, Regulus."

At breakfast on Friday, Sirius was competing with James to see who could fit the most sausages in their mouths when an eagle owl soared low over the Gryffindor table and dropped a letter into Sirius' porridge.

James said something unintelligible around a mouthful of sausage and reached for the letter, but Sirius grabbed it first. He flipped the envelope over, noticed the return address, and promptly began to choke. Peter pounded Sirius on the back, but that only made the problem worse.

Remus drew his wand, looking mildly amused. "Waddiwasi."

A large piece of half-eaten sausage zoomed out of Sirius' mouth and splattered against the wall at the far end of the Great Hall.

Sirius massaged his throat. "Thanks," he said weakly.

"'Oo's the letter from, then?" asked James, swallowing loudly.

"Er," said Sirius. James could be annoyingly perceptive when he wanted to be. Sirius turned the envelope face-down and slid it into his bag. "No one important. Just junk mail."

"Oh, sure," said Peter. "I know my junk mail is usually delivered via eagle owl."

Sirius knocked him in the back of the head, and Peter yelped. "Drop it, alright?" said Sirius. "It's nothing. Really."

Across the table, James frowned. "Didn't look like nothing."

Sirius threw up his arms, accidentally upending the plate of sausages. "What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?"

"Nice Muggle history reference," said Remus approvingly. "You'll have that Muggle Studies N.E.W.T. in no time if you keep it up."

"Don't change the subject, Moony," said James. "Sirius. What's the deal with the letter?"

Sirius' stomach turned. Those sausages were not sitting well. "Fine. It's addressed from Grimmauld Place, so I'm assuming my wonderful parents wrote it, alright? Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

"Oh," said James. Peter let out a low whistle. "Shite. I'm sorry, mate, I didn't think —"

Of course you didn't. Sirius bit back the retort. The Potters always sent James letters containing money or sweets. It must be nice. "No worries," he said, trying to sound casual. "It's not like I'm going to read the bloody thing."

"We could burn it, if you like," said Peter. "The Shrieking Shack's got a fireplace…"

Sirius forced himself to smile. "Sounds great, Pete. I'd suggest we go now, but…" He checked his watch. "I've got detention with Minnie in about five minutes."

Peter's brow furrowed. "You haven't said anything about —"

"Sure I did," said Sirius, hopping up from the table. "Can't trust that shoddy memory of yours, Wormy. Keep it up and you're getting a Remembrall for Christmas."

Sirius left the castle nearly at a sprint. It took several laps around Hagrid's hut as Padfoot before he calmed down enough to sit, in human form, at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He glanced at his bag, which he'd flung on the ground a few feet away. A creamy corner of an envelope peeked out from the mouth of the bag.

Sirius wasn't sure why the thought of reading the letter was so unpleasant. His parents had been Obliviated, hadn't they? They probably weren't thrilled he'd left Grimmauld Place during the summer holidays, but whatever was in the letter couldn't possibly be that bad.

Sirius decided not to risk it. He drew his wand. "Incendio."

His bag caught fire. Sirius watched it for a moment, satisfied, before he realized that their latest copy of the Hogwarts map was inside. He swore loudly and jumped to his feet, pointing his wand at the bag. "Emorius lucerna."

The fire snuffed out instantly, as if he had set a candle extinguisher over it. Sirius knelt and began to rummage through the scorched bag, wincing; its contents were still very hot. At last, he pulled out the map, which had been burnt beyond recognition.

Sirius said something very foul indeed. Flakes of ash fell through his fingers as he crumpled the remains of the map into a ball and chucked it into the Forbidden Forest.

The bright side, he decided on the way back to the castle, was that if the map hadn't survived the fire, there was no way his parent's letter had.

"Bad news," he said, sliding in beside James during Transfiguration. "The latest version of the map was, er, ruined during my detention."

James ran his hands through his hair in frustration, making it stick up in all directions. "Sirius, what the —? What happened?"

"Erm," said Sirius, "would you believe me if I said my detention involved fire?"

"Yes," said Peter.

"No," said James and Remus simultaneously.

"Great," said Sirius, "because that's definitely not what happened —" He broke off as Professor McGonagall swept into the room, looking as austere as ever.

"Morning, Professor," said James brightly, stowing his bag under his chair. "Just wondering, did Sirius behave during his detention this morning?"

Professor McGonagall's eyes flashed behind her spectacles. "Are you Confunded, Potter? Though I have had the honour of overseeing a tremendous amount of detentions served by Mr Black, he had no such detention today. At least not as of this lesson."

"Huh," said James, furrowing his brow in an exaggerated show of confusion. "Weird. Well, thanks, Professor. I'll be getting on with my Conjuring now."

"That face makes you look constipated," Sirius told him. "You're a prat, you know that?"

James flourished wand. "Ho hum, can't hear you… Elicio artibus… Oh, bother, that wasn't quite right..." Instead of Conjuring a matchstick, a small black burn mark had appeared in the table.

Sirius smirked. Conjuring was the only bit of Transfiguration that gave James trouble. "Elicio," said Sirius, and an entire matchbox appeared in front of him.

"Well done, Black," said Professor McGonagall, approaching their table. James hurriedly dropped the rude hand gesture he'd been making at Sirius.

"Thanks," said Sirius, winking broadly at James. "I've actually got a question, Professor. I was wondering… do Animagi get urges?" Beside him, James groaned, but Sirius ignored him.

"Urges?" repeated Professor McGonagall. "I'm not sure what you mean, Black."

"You know," said Sirius. "When you turn into a cat, do you feel compelled to do things that cats do? Hunting mice, for example. Have you ever had a mouse craving?"

"I'm not sure how this is relevant to the task at hand," said Professor McGonagall with a pointed look at Sirius' matchbox.

Sirius shrugged. "I guess you could say I'm supremely interested in all aspects of Transfiguration. Comes with being a N.E.W.T. level student, you know…"

Professor McGonagall peered down her spectacles at him. Sirius tried to look innocent.

"I can't say I've ever felt compelled to consume rodents," she responded at last. "Does that answer your question?"

"Ha!" said James triumphantly once Professor McGonagall was out of earshot. "I told you! If McGonagall doesn't get urges then neither do you. You owe me seven Galleons for that map you ate last week."

Sirius retaliated by Vanishing the single matchstick James had managed to Conjure. Unfortunately, that actually did earn him detention with McGonagall.

After dinner that evening, Sirius gave his friends the slip and headed towards the statue of Cornelia the Unbalanced on the second floor. Under the statue was a secret passage which led to a grotto by the lake. It had been raining all afternoon, and mist rose from the lake as Sirius sat on a large, mossy rock that jutted out over the water.

He glanced at his bag, considering chucking it in the lake. Finally, after a moment's hesitation, he reached inside and pulled out the envelope. Unlike the rest of his belongings, it didn't look singed at all.

Sirius frowned and reached for his wand. "Incendio."

The letter didn't burn. Flames licked harmlessly around the edges of the envelope. Sirius sighed deeply and put out the fire with a wave of his wand. His parents knew him too well. He shifted his weight, becoming Padfoot, and nosed the envelope into the lake. That was better; things didn't hurt so much as Padfoot. He curled up on the rock, his head on his paws, and watched the letter float away.

James found him a long time after sunset. He sat cross-legged beside Padfoot and ruffled his fur. The dog gave him a doleful look.

"That bad, eh?" asked James. "Where's the letter, then?"

Padfoot shifted his gaze towards the lake.

"Ah," said James. He raised his wand. "Accio." There was a ripple in the lake, and an envelope flew into his hands, dripping water. James flipped it over and let out a low whistle. "They even made it Impermeable, didn't they? What a bunch of bloody psychopaths." He rested a hand on the dog's back. "Mind if I read it? You don't think it's cursed, do you?"

Padfoot gave a doggy shrug, and James slit open the envelope. Padfoot could see the words written on the parchment inside, but they didn't make much sense to him. It was like reading Greek upside-down — he could do it, but it would take a while. He preferred not to read the letter anyway.

James' expression darkened as he scanned the parchment. "What're they playing at?" he said finally, tossing the letter aside. "I mean, they can't actually think —"

The dog sat up and became Sirius. He made a face and pulled his knees up to his chest. Being human was terrible sometimes. At least as Padfoot he hadn't known why he felt so miserable. "What's it say?"

"It's a heap of rubbish."

"Prongs. What's it say?"

Reluctantly, James reached for the letter. "Alright, but you promise you won't let it get to you?"

"Sure."

James looked like he wanted to respond, but he unfolded the parchment. "It's from your mum. Basically, it says that they love you and forgive you for running away from home — as long as you promise to do what they say from now on."

"That doesn't make sense," says Sirius. "I mean, the bit about me doing whatever they say does, they've wanted that since forever. But does she really say she loves me?"

"More or less," said James. "This bit here, for example. 'Our Lord seeks to target Hogwarts, and with your allegiance in question we cannot guarantee your safety. I cannot sleep for worry over you, and your father is unable to concentrate on his work. Please request a transfer into Slytherin; it would set my heart at ease, and we would welcome you home with open arms for Christmas. Think of it as a fresh start — for your future, for our family. I must see you home for Christmas, my son, my beloved firstborn.'"

Sirius wrapped his arms around his knees and was silent for a minute. Somehow, even when his mother was being nice she still upset him. "Laying it on a bit thick, isn't she?"

"Not her usual tactics," agreed James. "You know the old saying, though — it's easier to catch pixies with honey than with vinegar."

"She can't actually think I'd be stupid enough to fall for that," said Sirius. "I'm not about to run back to her just because she called me her beloved firstborn."

"You wouldn't think, but there's no telling with your family."

Sirius' eyes were fixed on the lake. "D'you think it's true?" he asked finally. "What she's saying about What's-His-Name targeting Hogwarts?"

"Well, I wouldn't be surprised," said James. "I'm sure he'd love to get into the castle, it'd be terrible for morale. But that doesn't mean your hag of a mum is telling the truth. She'd say anything to manipulate you."

Sirius said nothing, but leaned over and rested his head on James' shoulder. "I'm not going to ask Dumbledore to put me in Slytherin."

"Are you sure?" said James. "Sounds like you'll miss out on your mum's fantastic Christmas pies if you stay in Gryffindor. Didn't she put troll meat in them last year?"

Sirius snorted. "That was Reg's theory. Personally, I think it was centaur. I found a hoof."

James swore. "Insane old hag." He put an arm around Sirius. "Want me to Vanish this bloody letter?"

"Good luck," said Sirius. "It's got protective charms on it. Can't be Vanished. Can't be burnt or ripped, either."

"I see," said James. "There's only one thing for it, then." He pulled out his wand, Transfigured the ball of parchment into a jelly bean, and swallowed it.

Sirius stared at James. "You are mental."

James shrugged, looking quite pleased with himself. "There're loopholes everywhere, mate. Anyway, I've got a bottle of Gillywater to wash that down with in the dormitory. You in?"

Regulus went to the hospital wing on Wednesday at Severus' urging, and he didn't reappear for more than a week. At dinner the following Thursday, Severus spotted Regulus at the far end of the Slytherin table, looking noticeably thinner and picking at his roast beef.

Severus slid next to Regulus on the bench. "How are you feeling?"

Regulus examined his plate for a moment before turning towards Severus. "Fine. Couldn't keep down any food for about a week. But I'm not dead, so…"

"Well, if you're looking for pity, you won't find it here," said Severus. "I told you to go to Pomfrey sooner. Curses like that fester."

Regulus turned back to his roast beef. "You have quite the comforting presence. Has anyone ever told you?"

Severus ignored the jab. "You might be interested to know that Mulciber's got detention every weekend from now until the end of the month. Full days, too — he has to sort Filch's filing cabinets."

Regulus arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "Dearborn went to McGonagall?"

"Looks that way."

Regulus took a deliberate bite of roast beef, chewing very slowly. Finally, he swallowed and said, "Why was Mulciber the only one punished?"

"Dearborn didn't have proof about anyone else," said Severus. "Avery told McGonagall he and Rosier were attempting to stop the duel. 'As a prefect,' he said, you know that prattish voice he puts on, utterly insufferable. Dearborn didn't even bring up Wilkes' name — I don't think she recognized him under his disguise. And I was Disillusioned, of course."

"I should have been clearer," said Regulus. "Why was I not punished?"

"Well," said Severus bitingly, "your pathetic attempt at Disarming her aside, you didn't actually do anything."

Regulus stared at him. "I lured Sally to Mulciber," he said, lowering his voice. "She knows I did."

"If McGonagall thought you had any hand in the attack, I'm sure you would be in detention alongside Mulciber. As it stands, all you did was report a duel to the Head Girl and cast a Disarming Charm that may have been intended for someone else."

"Why did she curse me, then? If she thought I was on her side?"

Severus, utterly bored with Regulus' anxieties, resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Maybe she got jumpy and overreacted. They say her father sees assassins everywhere. His outlook might have rubbed off on her."

"I doubt that," said Regulus. "She wouldn't —"

"— Or maybe she feels guilty for having cursed you and doesn't want McGonagall to find out she used Dark Magic," continued Severus, speaking over him. "Using a curse like that doesn't paint the Head Girl in a very flattering light, does it?"

"I don't know. She doesn't seem —"

"Look," said Severus bluntly. "If you are truly concerned about why she didn't report you, then I suggest you ask her what, exactly, she was thinking."

Regulus blanched and pushed his plate away. "I think the events of that weekend speak for themselves. It was a mistake to join your… group."

Severus decided that Regulus deserved more than just an eye-roll. "Too soft for the Dark Lord, are you?" he said, sneering. "I wonder what Orion and Walburga will have to say when they find out their second son is just as much a disappointment as the first. Think they'll bother trying for a third?"

Regulus looked quite queasy now. "That won't be necessary. I'll let them know —"

"No, don't trouble yourself," said Severus, taking a quill and parchment out of his bag. "I'll owl Bella for you. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to inform your parents that Following just isn't for you."

Regulus' grey eyes narrowed. "That's blackmail," he said, his voice rising. "You don't honestly think you can force me —"

"Oh, spare me," Severus snapped. "You get hit by one curse and suddenly what your parents require of you is too dangerous —"

"WELL, I'M NOT THE GRYFFINDOR OF THE FAMILY, AM I?!" shouted Regulus. His plate shattered, sending bits of roast beef everywhere.

The table grew quiet. Severus looked around; most of the Slytherin table was watching them with mild interest. Across the Great Hall, Sirius Black had frozen with his fork halfway to his mouth.

"Wonderful," said Severus sarcastically as Sirius got up from his table and began to stride towards them. "Really excellent, Regulus, some temper your family's got —"

"What's going on here?" asked Sirius, sounding like he was trying to be casual and failing miserably at it. "Are you upsetting my brother, Snape?"

"I can handle this," said Regulus through gritted teeth. "Go back to your table, Sirius —"

"No, I don't think I will," said Sirius loudly. "Why don't you and I take a stroll, little brother?"

Regulus said nothing. After a moment, he got up slowly from the table, acting for all the world as if Severus wasn't there. Severus watched them walk away, wishing that they weren't surrounded by hundreds of witnesses. He'd like nothing better than to curse both of them. Regulus Black was just as much an idiot as his brother, it seemed.

Before going to bed, Severus penned a brief letter to Bella, sending it via a shabby-looking school owl. At breakfast the following morning, a handsome eagle owl landed directly on Regulus' toast. In its beak was a dark red envelope which appeared to be smoking slightly.

Regulus stared at the letter as the edges of the envelope blackened and curled. Avery elbowed him hard in the ribs, which seemed to bring Regulus to his senses. He reached for the letter, his expression blank, and slit it open.

Severus' glass of pumpkin juice began to shake as the voice of Walburga Black reverberated throughout the Great Hall.

"— SQUANDERING THE OPPORTUNITY YOUR COUSIN HAS SET BEFORE YOU, I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO ASHAMED — I SEE NOW WE HAVE RAISED A SPOILED BRAT WHO THINKS HE CAN DO AS HE PLEASES, TAKING THE FAMILY COMPLETELY FOR GRANTED — DISGRACING THE HOUSE OF OUR FOREBEARS — EVEN YOUR BROTHER HAS A SPINE, BUT THAT FAMILY TRAIT THAT SEEMS TO HAVE PASSED YOU BY COMPLETELY —"

At the five minute mark, Severus tuned the Howler out, as it had become somewhat repetitive. Regulus continued to stare at the shrieking letter with the same blank expression. As Severus ate his porridge, he felt a rare moment of gratitude for his own parents, who had never been involved enough in his life to care if he made anything of himself.

The Howler finally spluttered itself into ashes, and Severus chanced a glance at the Gryffindor table. To his surprise, Sirius' gaze was not fixed on Regulus, but on an expensive-looking envelope he was holding in his hands.

That evening, Severus arrived in Dungeon Thirteen half an hour before Mulciber had required them to meet. Regulus was already there; he stood in front of the fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared at the crackling flames.

"So?" asked Severus.

The glow from the fire threw Regulus' angled features into sharp relief. His cheekbones looked especially sunken after his bout with the curse. "You're looking at your newest Intent."

"I'm glad to hear it," said Severus. "It's the right choice." He moved towards the fireplace until they were standing nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. "Why are you so reluctant?" he asked at last.

Regulus sighed. "I just don't see why Intenting is necessary. I'm not — I'm not like you, or the others."

Well, that much was obvious. But Severus was supposed to recruit Regulus, and he didn't think mocking him would help. "You're not like us in what way?"

"You know," said Regulus. "I just want to be — normal, I guess. I'll donate money to the Dark Lord when I'm older, if he wants. But I don't want to — to fight, or to curse other people. I don't see why I can't support the cause in a different way."

"In other words, you want to waffle," said Severus. "You want to be a supporter without actually lending any support to the cause."

Regulus' mouth tightened. "You make me sound like a coward."

Severus didn't respond. He wasn't interested in reassuring Regulus with falsehoods.

After a minute, Regulus spoke again. "There're other people in Slytherin who keep their heads down. They don't take sides, and nobody bothers them. Why can't I be like that?"

"You're a Black," said Severus. "Obviously."

"It's not obvious to me."

"Let me spell it out for you, then," said Severus. "As the heir to the Blacks, you have almost unfathomable access to several things. Money. Influence. Power. The other Slytherins do not."

"My brother is the heir," mumbled Regulus, but he didn't argue the point.

"You know," said Severus, figuring he might as well have a bit of pity on Regulus, "I tried to avoid taking sides last year. It turned out… poorly."

Regulus glanced at him. "I heard about that."

"I believe the entire Wizarding World will have to choose a side, and soon," said Severus. "That's why it's better to do it now. And better to choose our side."

Regulus was looking at him inquisitively. "Do you really think the Dark Lord will win?"

"I do," said Severus, slightly surprised to find that it was the truth. "I grew up with Muggles. I've seen what they are capable of. The Dark Lord has the right idea — we ought to subjugate them, for the good of all society. Besides, it's obvious that the side that uses Dark Magic will be the one that prevails."

Regulus' expression was inscrutable as he watched the flames flickering in the hearth. A natural-born Occlumens, thought Severus.

"If I become a Follower," said Regulus, "does that make me evil? Even if I don't do bad things?"

"Stop being dramatic," said Severus. "Evil doesn't have a side. Isn't it evil that your brother hexes Slytherins whenever he gets the opportunity? Isn't it evil that we've never had a Muggle-born Minister for Magic? When my father takes a belt to my mother, which one of them is doing evil, the Muggle or the witch? And who will bring her justice?"

Regulus was silent for a long time.

"You and I are pawns," said Severus. "The side we choose doesn't matter. We simply have to survive as best we can."

At last, Regulus spoke. "I hope you're right."

"I am," said Severus. "You'll see."