Author's note.

A foreword (Paul, you got me thinking about the way I portrayed Sirius) : Sirius is intentionally unsympathetic. On top of the fact that Sirius objectively has some massive flaws, this is Regulus' point of view. Events are heavily colored by his interpretation and he rarely sees Sirius at his best.

I could write an essay on their complicated relationship, but the crux of it is that Regulus doesn't see that Sirius is abused, he only sees that his brother intentionally gets in trouble and Sirius' (sometimes cruel) temper. Sirius considers Regulus complicit to the abuse, because Sirius can't see how one could both love their parents AND mean it when they say they love him. That's without even going into the mutual jealousy (Regulus is loved, Sirius is talented), the different roles they've been raised for (Sirius as the future Lord Black, so someone who takes action and makes decisions, and Regulus as someone who follows orders), and just how different they both are.

On that note, happy reading^^.


"Wingardium Leviosa," Regulus whispered. He knew he should be casting with confidence, but keeping his voice low was the only way to hide his nervousness.

The owl feather, one of many sitting in line on the Charms classroom's long table, didn't twitch.

Regulus tried to concentrate on the feather, on air rushing under its soft barbs, on an invisible finger picking it up (wouldn't be a floating finger then? did he need to focus on a giant arm sprouting from his back - )

Merlin, he'd gotten distracted again.

Regulus took a slow breath. Wing- His tight throat swallowed back the incantation. It felt like the whole class was watching him, judging him. Practical charms was the worst. In the other classes, he'd seat in the back row, but in Flitwick's classroom's setup: a half-circle of long benches, a single long table at the front, and students allowed to walk about, there was nowhere one could escape attention.

Not all feathers were floating, not even half, still, everywhere Regulus looked there was at least some movement.

"Look, Black's so advanced he's trying wordless magic already."

Regulus clenched his jaw, his tight eyes locked on the accursed feather. This was Sirius' fault, for showing others that it was fine to not respect him.

He willed himself composed as he turned to face Birtwisle. With a fringed square haircut that looked to have been obtained from three severing charms, and cheap bracelets that jingled with her every wrist movements, the Gryffindor was the kind of riff-raff Regulus' parents had warned him about.

"Please, do show me the spell," he said with a forced smile. "Birdwhistle, isn't it?"

It was satisfying to see her flush. It wouldn't do for her to forget that she was a halfblood and nobody worth remembering.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" she snarled. The feather rose half a foot upwards. More a bounce than actual levitation, Regulus told himself furiously, yet he couldn't stop the flush spreading up his cheeks.

"Inbreeding," she accused, her smirk broad and angry, "from dark wizards to dark squibs..."

"Miss Birtwisle, stop distracting Black." From the other side of the room, Flitwick couldn't have heard their words. "Move back next to Miss Falksdotter."

"Just a jealous minger," Roland muttered. His own feather was crookedly floating upwards, like a slow, drunk fly, but it was floating. "She'll never have what you have."

Regulus smiled faintly, because it'd be rude to not acknowledge kind words. He forced himself not to slouch or cringe, desperate for class to end. Roland was protective of him, which was nice, but it suggested that Regulus needed to be protected. Like some baby. Like someone weak.

Regulus strode away from the group as the others hurried to lunch. He needed to clear his head, alone.

Slowly, the portraits-filled stone walls succeeded in distracting him. Strolling through Hogwarts felt like glimpsing memories of long past times, like walking among floating puzzle pieces from a thousand stories. Most portraits paid students little attention, nothing like the loud Black ancestors back home, so quick to shout or tell them what was proper.

He'd reached in the east wing of the third floor when he heard a girl's voice echoing up from the corridor to his left.

" - waste. They just don't last. I like this one better: Custos Lepus!"

A shimmering golden hare made of yellowish-gray magic bounced out of the corridor, ears-twitching. Regulus froze. There was nowhere to hide. The ethereal creature's eyes locked onto Regulus'.

The hare flashed red.

Rustling of robes and quick footsteps revealed two older students.

"I was going to say: it's an alarm spell."

The girl was a pretty redhead in Gryffindor robes. Next to her, the skinny boy with lank black hair was in green and silver. Snape. Nobody whose name Regulus would have bothered to learn, if not for the fact his brother and Potter seemed to hate him more than anyone else.

"Perhaps he is lost," Snape drawled. He stood a head taller than Regulus, ungainly and stooped, with zits on his skin and teeth that could use twenty galleon's worth of charms. He was also notorious for being a swot who sat next to a Gryffindor mudblood in class. That had to be her.

Regulus stiffened as the hare kept staring at him, burning with magic as if charms that lasted minutes were the easiest thing in the world.

"Did someone petrify you, Black?"

"It wasn't lepus. It's a nice guardian spell, I swear."

The laughter in the mudblood's voice made Regulus bristle. Even her kind had no respect for him. Regulus took a slow breath. It was barely October. This couldn't go on.

"I'm tired of being called an inbred dark squib. I could use some tutoring. I'm now thinking you could provide it, Snape."

Narcissa would have told Regulus to not say what was bothering him, but what did he have to lose? Snape was such a social nonentity that badmouthing Regulus would only worsen his position.

Snape blinked in shock.

"You're Sirius Black's brother, aren't you?" The girl asked.

"Can't escape it. Does anybody call Githead an inbred dark squib?" Stupid question, obviously. But as Regulus had hoped, Snape suddenly looked much less hostile.

Regulus took a slow breath and bowed his head to the redhead, like he would have for a pureblood. It didn't take a genius to know people responded well to consideration, and her magical hare was just beginning to dissolve into thin air. "Regulus Black, nice to meet you, Miss ...?"

"Oh. Evans. Lily. Nice to meet you too." Her smile was hesitant but warm. Her own head-bow was all wrong, and he had only introduced herself, not invited her to use his first name. But Evans' awkwardness helped. It reminded Regulus of what he was good at.

He turned back to Snape. "I'll pay you. I'll help you with..." how to put this delicately? "making people see what you're good at instead of what you're lacking."

"I'll never be pureblood."

"There's nothing wrong with being halfblood, or muggleborn," Evans muttered, her jaw clenching.

"Let me rephrase that," Regulus said, some of his nervousness evaporating. "I can help you be valued for your magic. And my essays are fine. I just can't seem to muster the focus to cast efficiently." And he didn't have the raw power to balance out a lack of focus.

"How much?"

"Sev-"

"Two galleons a week for hourly tutoring four nights a week?" Half his allowance. It seemed fair.

Snape's eyes widened. "Fine."

"Come on, Sev! Come off it, two galleons? One's already-"

"Lily," Snape said with a scowl that said don't ruin it.

Evans threw her hands up with a sigh. "Fine, exploit the eleven year old."

"We have deal, Snape," Regulus said, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. He had money, Snape had skill, this would work. Patronage was something great houses had done it for centuries.

"Where will we be meeting, Black? This part of the third floor is usually deserted..."

Regulus frowned. Snape expected to be hidden? He smiled, new confidence filling his lungs as he realized just how bad the older boy's situation was. "The common room, Snape. And I won't say about you two."

"Why would he be ashamed of me?" Evans exclaimed. "Gosh, how is it that the house of the ambitious is so obsessed by blood and birthright and things that are pure luck and have nothing to do with character and ability."

Regulus bristled. "You wouldn't understand," he snapped. As if it was just blood, as if it didn't show in everything from her clothes to her mimics and her words. As if she knew anyone or anything outside Hogwarts itself. "And don't be a hypocrite : you two are hiding up here, and not just from Slytherins." Evans' scowl proved his words had struck true. "I'd like to start tomorrow, Snape. Half past five. I'll leave you alone now."

He waited for Snape's nod. The boy looked suspicious and was awfully weird, but better than asking Narcissa. Regulus couldn't bear the thought of her realizing just how much he struggled.

One week later, Regulus' feathers gracefully floated up to the ceiling. One month later, he managed to partially transfigure an earthworm into a champagne flute in class. The crystal was a translucent gray, and the flute half the size it should have been, but it was solid enough to drink from and Professor McGonagall awarded him a point for the first time. Practical spellwork, especially in public, stopped being something Regulus dreaded.

Snape was prickly and impatient and condescending, but he was still much easier than Sirius. Snape needed the money. He needed the opportunity to show off. The tutoring sessions allowed him to take his place in the common room. Slowly, he began to relax around Regulus. And when Narcissa took an interest (it was the spell-crafting), suddenly Snape could hex back the Slytherins who sneered at his breeding or his appearance, safe in the knowledge he had a powerful ally. Some days Regulus found himself seething with envy. Of the glint in Narcissa's eyes when she and Snape spoke of magic. Of the admiration Narcissa so easily had from Snape, whereas, with Regulus, Snape had to swallow back his sarcasm and boredom, and force himself to be patient.

But Narcissa also began to come more often to the tutoring sessions and teach Regulus herself, and she invited him to her dorm when they crafted their spells. He didn't want to lose that. He didn't want to lose the pride in his chest when he cast his first lumos well before that bitch Birdwhistle cast hers. Flitwick exclaimed well done! so cheerfully the girl sulked for the rest of the lesson.


Autumn gave way to a mild winter and a warm Spring. Regulus and Roland had taken the habit of flying around on one of the school's spare brooms on the days the Slytherin team booked the pitch. Often, small groups flew for fun on the sidelines, leaving the players to more regimented practices. Sometimes, the players were happy to have other students of passable skill to practice against.

Regulus come to realize he had a good balance and a good eye. Unlike his more rowdy housemates, he did not feel the need to show off or push the broom to its speed limits and so he missed fewer opportunities. He decided to try out for Seeker at the beginning his second year. Aditri Garjan had announced she wouldn't play during her OWLs year and the current reserve Seeker wasn't all that good.

Quidditch wasn't Regulus' passion, but it made you popular. It was too good an opportunity to pass.

As such few things could keep him from the pitch on practice day. One was letters from home and this one was particularly fat. Regulus smiled at the beautiful jay wing-feathers in the envelope. Kreacher always included a little something. Regulus also always made sure to include something for the elf to take, before he'd pass on the letter to Mother.

'My dearest Reggie, you have been shielded from the storm that befell our family this Beltane, but now you also must be informed. After all, you are no child anymore.'

Regulus perked up in interest. His good mood fell as Mother's increasingly scathing account of Narcissa's engagement to Lucius Malfoy darkened the pages.

'So now you understand. I am counting on you to bring Narcissa back to her senses. She must be made to see that being the lesser partner in a marriage is suicide. He will erase her politically and deny her all form of power. She's too arrogant and naive to not see that Malfoy just wants a pretty broodmare he can control. She's so blinded by wealth and sweet words she treats us, her own family, like we know nothing. Don't let that vile man steal her from us, Regulus.'

He was a little dizzy when he carefully folded the letter back into his bag. The next day found him searching for Sirius between lessons. His insufferable brother was never alone. Always glued to Potter and trailed by their two vassals. Regulus took a few slow breaths and squared his shoulder before he walked up to them. He hated how his heart raced and his throat dried up before anything had even happened.

"Sirius, I need to talk to you about a letter Mother wrote me."

"Ooh, I'm in trouble now." Sirius said with exasperating fake fright.

The other three laughed, the tossers.

"It's not about you," Regulus snapped, his arms crossed tightly as he willed his voice slow and composed. He couldn't afford to squeak now. Sarcasm seeped into his tone. "Will you deign to grant me five minutes, oh future Lord Black. Shall I bow? Or perhaps read Mother's letter out loud in the Great Hall? It will highly amuse everyone."

A bluff of course, but one that worked.

Sirius huffed, in that exaggerated everyone look at me! way Sirius did everything. "Five minutes."

Regulus flinched as his brother grabbed him by the arm and dragged him a corridor away.

"So what does she want?"

"Mother's convinced Narcissa is going to ruin her life marrying Malfoy."

Sirius barked a laugh. As if this wasn't serious. "Merlin's pants, I'm conflicted! Anyone Mother disapproves of has to be alright. But Malfoy -"

"Do you even care about Cousin Cissy?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Please. Father wrote me a few days ago, appealing to my sense of family. He ordered me to consolidate the Black Lordship, and warned me that Narcissa was key to our family's power and not be squandered. Show me Mother's letter."

Sirius rolled his eyes a lot as he read it. Mother and Father loathed such eyerolling. Regulus had to bite his tongue not to snap at him to knock it off.

Abruptly, Sirius burst out laughing. "Oh wow, she actually wrote 'lesser House' when talking about us? She must be frothing."

"You don't think Cissy is being fooled? Or are you just happy Mother's mad?"

"Unclench, Reggie. Narcissa's realized she doesn't need the lesser House and the awful people in it. Just like Meda did, only Cousin Cissy's bloke is rich and pureblood, so society won't shun her and Mother will be stuck biting her tongue."

"How can you even compare the two!"

"What, two witches defying their lousy parents to marry someone who makes them happy?" Sirius grinned, his eyes glinting with contempt. "Indeed, what's to compare?"

"Andromeda left us!"

Sirius' mirth vanished. "Don't be a prat, she still lives in England. You can write or visit her any time. The family has chosen to blast her off and give her a hard time."

Suspicion narrowed Regulus' eyes. "Have you been visiting her?"

"Why, eager to tattle? Want to get Meda and Ted killed?"

Regulus grit his teeth and snatched back the now crumpled letter. "I believe the five minutes are over. Thank you for your time, Lord Black."

"It's not your job, you know," Sirius muttered, shooting a look at where his friends were waiting.

"What."

"To fix our family. What kind of mother puts pressure on a twelve year old to talk an overage witch out of her wedding?"

"I'm not a child anymore."

Sirius rolled his eyes, again, before striding away. "Sure, Reggie."

Left alone to stare at his brother's retreating back, Regulus fought back the urge to hex him.

"What was that about?" Regulus heard Potter say.

"My mother's a nasty witch. Big surprise."

Regulus winced at how Sirius' voice boomed. Anyone could hear. How could he have no respect?

He had no choice, Regulus realized as his feet brought him back to the common room and Narcissa's dorm. He had to tell her. His fingers brushed the door but he didn't dare knock.

The dorm's door magically opened from the inside. Wand in hand, Narcissa greeted him with an arched eyebrow, the room impeccably neat with no way to know what Narcissa had been doing. It was unnerving (and purposeful, of course, Narcissa cultivated her image carefully). Her expression softened as she recognized him. "What's bothering you, Reggie?"

He'd planned on steering the conversation and subtly getting her to see Mother's point of view. Instead, within three minutes, he'd somehow handed Narcissa Mother's letter.

She did not roll her eyes once. Her expression was a mask of perfect indifference. "That's rich of them," she simply said, setting the parchment aside.

"Sirius said..." 'you're like Andromeda' would not do. "He said you just want to marry someone who'll make you happy."

"Sirius has moments of striking insight. Lucius doesn't need to be afraid of my family to treat me well. He likes me."

"You mean, even if you were nobody, or... a halfblood like Snape? He'd marry you then?"

Narcissa's lips pinched. "I imagine I'd be a rather different person... But he's not marrying me because I'm a Black. " She sighed. "His father is a good man, you know. They're affectionate with each other, and Abraxas has treated me quite well."

"You're sure it's not a ploy to get you wed?"

"Regulus, marriage is not Azkaban. I can leave. Do you not want to see me happy?"

That was unfair. "Of course I do."

"Listen, I'll make sure to introduce you properly to Lucius this summer. We'll spend time together then, just the three of us."

Regulus' excited smile soon withered. "What do I write Mother?"

"That you're working hard at convincing me, and got me to say 'I'm not certain about Lucius', and that you'll keep working."

"But when you do marry him -"

"Reggie, some people are constantly disappointed. You learn to not take it personally, or you go mad. Walburga loves you. She won't stop because of that."

Regulus nodded, feeling conflicted. But Mother couldn't see how Narcissa smiled when she spoke of Lucius.

"I hope he doesn't just like you. Does he say he loves you?"

Narcissa took a slow breath, her eyes sparkling as her cheeks dimpled. "We're working on it."

"Don't marry him until he can say it. You deserve that."

Narcissa's soft arm surrounded Regulus' shoulders. "You're right." Her smile was somehow hard and hopeful and excited as her blonde hair tickled his neck. "You're right."


Regulus couldn't help feeling like a failure at Narcissa's wedding. Mother smiled because it was what you did around guests, but she was miserable and asked Regulus to stay by her, so he had to.

"I think she'll be happy with him," he whispered, hating how smiling at his beaming cousin would have made him feel disloyal.

"Perhaps. I just wonder what we did to her to make her hate us so. You won't ever marry a girl I don't approve of, won't you, my Reggie?"

"Of course not, Mum." He hated seeing her unhappy. He desperately wished he was clever enough to see how to fix this. His attention was caught by a figure in black standing with Cousin Bellatrix. They seemed to be playing around with the Manor's wards under Abraxas Malfoy's amused and wary gaze. "Is that... is that him?"

Mother abruptly stood up. "Quite. Let's get Bellatrix to introduce you, at least the day won't be wasted. Stand proud, he's more powerful than Dumbledore, and rumors are he cannot die." What- But Mother didn't look like she was joking. "He's entirely too fond of Bellatrix but mark my words, he's going to change the Isles for the best."

"Ah, baby cousin!" Bellatrix exclaimed. "I was scared Aunty had kidnapped you. My Lord, baby cousin, baby cousin, bow."

After a half second's hesitation, Regulus smoothly bowed. In another context, it might have been humiliating, but he realized he didn't mind those two thinking he was small. It should have been impossible, and yet there was a distinct hum of magic coming from Lord Voldemort, something coiled and impossibly powerful that sent a shiver down the twelve year old's spine.

"The rising generation of great families," the Dark Lord said with a thin smile. There was something odd about his handsome face, and a red sheen to his eyes. Regulus found himself staring at the man's eyebrows to not turn his gaze away. "Your descendants will say England's golden age began with you."

Regulus opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He couldn't blink away from the Dark Lord's face, as if he'd lost control of his thoughts.

Soft perfume and a halo of blonde hair suddenly broke the spell.

"Regulus, darling, you have to make me dance." The tight grip on his arm made Narcissa's easy smile a lie. "Don't break the wards, Bella, you'd make poor Abraxas cry."

Bellatrix smirked. "Don't worry, I'm civilized."

Heart hammering, Regulus could barely breathe. He waited until they were out of earshot. "Cissy, what -"

"Legilimens, no doubt. You're a child, Reggie, don't let them see you as anything else."

I'm not - The tightness in Narcissa's eyes killed his protests. He smiled nervously in gratitude, happy to dance.


1975 – Regulus' 2nd year

Regulus was part of a war. They called it pranks.

It was the art of finding the line between humiliating and funny, between shocking and acceptable, and giving everyone an excuse for postponing the inevitable advent of adulthood. The Marauders were at the heart of it. In a quieter age, people might have condemned instead of admiring them, but the 70s were dark times, and while few would think to articulate it that way, it was important to have drama at Hogwarts to drown out what was happening outside. The students were shielded but not oblivious. Power, who had it and what it meant not to have it, was a preoccupation that poisoned the very air. Even the first years realized on some level that the rules held less meaning these days. That this was a era were people took.

In this atmosphere, was it so surprising that teenagers too had insolently risen to claim power of their own? The Marauders were special in that they targeted the muggleborn and the politically insignificant least. They mostly targeted the powerful, their allies and those who seemed to align with the rising Dark Lord. To those spared, the Marauders were proof that it wasn't just Voldemort's faction that had a right to attack. That those who lacked relations among the wealthy or the politically relevant weren't doomed to a role of beleaguered victims. It fed their sense of justice to see the playground leveled. And for that, the Marauders, and Sirius and James especially, were their heroes.

Regulus was not on the first lines of this ongoing war. He didn't particularly enjoy drama and, now resigned to the fact that Sirius would never like him, he much preferred to avoid his brother. Despite his efforts, he was nevertheless sometimes sucked in.

End of year exams were a month away, making the library a much more popular place than the rest of the year. Regulus was with Roland, on his way back to the Great Hall from the library, when shouts, some very distinctly Sirius' shouts, filled the corridors.

"Did I really hear 'sodomized by house elves'?" Roland mouthed.

Wide-eyed, the two thirteen year olds gingerly hurried towards the increasingly loud stream of obscenities.

They finally spotted them : Sirius, Potter and Lupin furiously sprinting towards the stairs. The overlapping shouting muddled things, but Sirius' 'transfigure you into an arsewipe' was rather distinct. Also, Potter's head was completely bald. Whoever their current enemy was, they seemed long gone.

A door slammed open, revealing an aborted teacher's meeting and an irate Professor McGonagall.

"Black! Potter! Lupin!" McGonagall bellowed above the storm of profanity. "What do you think you're doing! Twenty points from Gryffindor!"

"You need a shag."

Regulus stopped breathing. He and Roland shared a look of horrified fascination. Had Potter just said -?

"Bet Hagrid's down for it. He'll pound a sense of humor right into you."

"Are you insane, Potter? Fifty points from Gryffindor!"

"Points," Sirius scoffed. "Greatest weapon of the Light Wizards. We're doomed. Voldemort -"

"Each!"

"Let us through you daft twat!" Lupin bellowed before slamming his fist awkwardly against his face and howling in pain.

"Silencio!" Not one but three streaks of magic in quick succession silenced the three fourth years. "Minerva, look at Mr. Lupin," Professor Flitwick said, eyes narrowed as he lowered his wand. "These lads are cursed, not being provocative."

Regulus realized then that Potter and Sirius looked oddly flushed and that Lupin was now crying from having literally punched himself in the mouth. What kind of curse -.

McGonagall seemed to finally notice the two Slytherin. And the nosy crowd rapidly gathering behind them.

"Black, Podmore, take Mr. Lupin to Poppy," she said in clipped tones.

Whatever Potter tried to say with his hands ended up being a very sexual, very rude gesture at his head of house. Thin ropes instantly bound his wrists.

Lupin, a numbing spell taking the edge off the pain from his bleeding mouth, didn't wait for them to start sprinting for the Hospital Wing.

Still not quite believing what they'd just witnessed, Regulus and Roland rushed after him. After Madam Pomfrey let them go, muttering under her breath, the boys soon were ambushed by Snape.

"Tell me everything," he said, looking unusually gleeful.

Regulus narrowed his eyes at the taller boy. "I'll tell you, word for word. But first, I want to know which spells. I know Loquax Turpido to get people babbling obscenities, but these weren't random words, they were targeted insults."

Snape smirked. "Clamo Infamia. The curse takes the shape of a cloud of fumes and affects all who breathe it. It stirs up the darkest corner of your mind, makes you say things you would never say unless you were in a particularly hateful mood."

Regulus sucked in a breath. Insulting people wasn't a long shot for people like Potter or Sirius, and Lupin, timid bootlicker that he was, had resisted the curse quickly enough; but still, to twist the minds of three people at once... Dark arts required purpose, and Regulus didn't dare imagine the well of hate and fury Snape drew from to power such a curse.

"And Potter's hair?" Roland asked.

"Perfrico Corium."

Roland guffawed. "Should have guessed! We use it to tan hides at the shop. Merlin, that must have hurt. Why his hair, though? A potion will grow it back in a week."

"Yes, a whole week of not having to watch that vain wanker constantly muss it to make girls swoon. Now what did they say?"

Regulus took a slow breath, determined to repeat everything without giggling like an idiot. Soon, the three Slytherin were laughing so hard they were crying.

"Even if you got away before they recognized you, they'll figure out it was you," Regulus pointed out once they'd caught their breath.

"Obviously, not that they need a excuse to hex me. But I couldn't have the teachers catch me."

"We'll make sure Slytherin knows it was you. It's neat magic, Snape."

Snape tried, badly, to hide his eagerness at the prospect as he made a show of assessing Regulus. "Perfrico Corium shouldn't be too difficult for you, Black."

Gryffindor got its points back, but it didn't change the fact that Potter would never be able to scrub from his memory the fact he'd told McGonagall to get laid. With Hagrid. Snape was all too happy to tell them just how awkward the next transfigurations lesson had been.


January 1976 – Regulus' 3rd year

Chilly wind roaring past his ears, Regulus' fingers closed around the fluttering golden snitch. He swallowed back a scream of pure adrenaline as the stands exploded in cheers and shouts.

"Aaaaaand Black's got it, folks!" Brianna McLaggen exclaimed from the commentator's box. "Slytherin wins! 240 to 110!"

That look on Potter's face. Served him right for prancing about like a pissed peacock after scoring his last goals.

"Thanks for talking me down to the beaters so they didn't bother to watch me, Potter!" Regulus hollered, deeply enjoying Potter's deepening scowl.

Next to Potter, Kettleburn swung his bat in the air. "Don't flatter yourself, Black. The snitch didn't think to fly away from you because it failed to detect any magic. Must've thought you were some ugly bird."

Flume, Gryffindor's new chaser, snorted with laughter. Regulus refused to let his now forced smile wane. They could call him a squib all they liked. He had won.

"I bet you have your grandparents' laugh, Flume." Cousin Evan, like Narcissa, could say the most awful things in a mild, almost gentle, tone. He was Slytherin's keeper, and an uncannily androgynous blonde. "Makes sense for muggles to sound like honking pigs."

Flume sneered, sweat pouring down her freckled face. "Their house is fancier than yours, Rosier. They made something of themselves."

"Fancy, you say? My cousin needs a house. Near Cambridge, isn't it? Any wards?"

Her sneer became rage, but Regulus didn't miss the flash of fear. "Threaten my family again, I dare you!"

Flanked by Potter and Kettleburn, Flume accelerated towards them with the clear intent to ram them off their brooms.

Madam Hooch's shrill whistle was followed by a yanking of the Gryffindors' brooms in mid-air, and shouts about keeping it all fair play. Grinning Regulus flew towards a cheering cluster of Slytherin, Roland first among them.

Triumphantly, they walked out of the pitch. Regulus slowed for a blonde head wrapped in a Hufflepuff scarf poking out from behind his friends and teammates.

"Boooooo!" Gladys Meadowes called, arms outstretched and thumbs down as soon as she caught his gaze. A grin crinkled her eyes. "Nice catch, Reg. You better crush Ravenclaw so I'll get to cheer against you at the finals. "

Regulus smiled, his head still spinning from the rush of victory. "I'll make you weep at the finals."

"Oh we will," Mulciber interjected with a nasty smile. "Now you're an athlete Black, you should aim for a cuter girlfriend."

"You can piss off," Gladys snapped. "See you, Reggie."

"Mulciber, we won. Don't be like that." He'd made friends, or close to, from other houses in class, but if he wanted to spend time with them outside lessons, there seemed to be always someone eager to make things hard. Frustration bled into his tone. "Why-"

"Her grandmother is the reason for the Lestrange case," Mulciber cut in. The fifth year had put away his beater's bat, but his glinting muscles didn't leave a doubt what his position on the team was.

I don't care, was on the tip of Regulus' tongue, but he knew that wouldn't fly.

It had been the talk of all the winter : the manor (well, it had been a minor manor) owned by Ladon Lestrange had been razed to the ground last month, two days after the destruction of Auror Fenwick's house, which itself had happened three days after the violent arrest of Peony Nott, widow of the late Theodorus Nott, led by Alastor Moody and Marisa Fenwick.

Word was that Nott shouldn't have been the only one arrested, that she had had guests that evening. Dorcas Meadowes, Gladys' grandmother, was a warden for the Ministry and an expert on floos. She had established that the Nott floo had last connected to Lestrange's manor. Crouch had therefore demanded that Ladon Lestrange turn over the list of places his floo had connected with in the last six months. When Meadowes had gone there, she'd found that the floo had been magically wiped clean, as if nobody had ever used it.

Furious, Crouch had declared it an obstruction of justice. That's when things got ugly.

The Auror team dispatched to arrest Ladon was returned to the Ministry in a shoe-box as a brood of six chicks. The Prophet had shown a picture of the note sent with the chicks. 'Next time, it'll be six broken eggs. Focus on bettering the lives of wizards instead of hindering those who do not wish to bow to muggles.'

Crouch had not taken it well. A dozen aurors had stormed the Lestrange's property at 5 AM without warning. The aurors, led once more by Moody and Fenwick, had been a decoy. A team of wardens, led by Meadowes and Headmaster Dumbledore himself, had been the real attack force.

Lestrange's 'manor' had been a charmed glass tower, of the kind that collapsed without the enchantments tethering it. The building had crashed into a pile of rubble while masked wizards had been driving the aurors away (Regulus did wonder if Bellatrix had been among them, but he didn't dare ask and she didn't write him).

Crouch had then made a speech through the Prophet and the Wireless. 'Law enforcement must be strong, because if those upholding the law lack strength, the law has no value. Strike at us, and we will strike harder. The Ministry will not tolerate such brazen defiance.'

Now the Wizarding World was holding its breath. Bartemius Crouch (Junior) cheerfully asked every morning 'Is Daddy dead?" before picking up the Daily Prophet.

Regulus had never read the newspapers past the titles and now was even less inclined to. He had enough to worry about without being sucked into drama he could do nothing about. He couldn't see what was so bad about a Dark Lord wanting wizards to be wizards instead of people who had to hide all the time and leave the world to muggles. He couldn't believe some people thought it was bad enough to die over, and didn't wand to wake up one morning to find out that his cousin and Gladys' grandmother had dueled to the death (not that he was scared that Bella would lose.)

"You can't associate with those muggle-loving fools, Black, being friendly and all makes them think that's alright." A threatening smile curled Mulciber's lips. "Actually, we should be teaching Meadowes a lesson, don't you think?"

Ugh. "She's got nothing to do with this. You're also going to teach Crouch a lesson for being his father's son?"

Mulciber laughed. "Barty hates his old dad. He says the man's being so hard because he's power hungry and wants to clear out the competition, not because he's a muggle lover. I can kind of respect a power grab. Meadowes on the other hand..."

"You're not scared of Dumbledore coming after you?" Regulus swallowed. "Mulciber, what's really got you mad? It can't be Meadowes."

Mulciber's grim smile died, giving way to something more thoughtful. More dark. "You're right... Angelo Rizzo, that mudblood's been boasting about spending the summer as Ravenna Marchbanks' assistant."

Regulus' eyes widened. Ms. Marchbranks was high up at International Cooperations. A summer job like that in sixth year? That wouldn't be happening unless they meant to give him a position there right after his NEWTs.

Poison twisted Mulciber's features. "The light faction's so bloody eager to prop their beloved mudbloods on a pedestal, they're shutting us out. Rizzo's got good marks, so what? What does he know of our world? He's going make a fool of himself in front of the Roman Council and humiliate us all."

Mulciber's family had split from their Roman ancestors in the seventeenth century, but they had never lost contact, and it was no secret Mulciber aimed to get into international politics and go live in Italy.

"I was tempted to write Marchbanks, but..." Mulciber sighed through clenched teeth, his arms outstretched as if to throttle an invisible enemy. "I... I don't have the words, Black. I don't know how they could even consider Rizzo-"

Some families were part of the Ministry and others were the Ministry, never quite at the heart of power but always there, no matter which faction held the political power. The most striking example had to be Griselda Marchbanks, Ravenna's grandmother, who had examined OWL and NEWTs students since before Albus Dumbledore had sat his exams.

"- to him?"

"What?" Regulus said, realizing the bigger boy was now staring at him.

"We'll need to do something... subtle. Something that'll show Marchbranks the mudblood's utterly unsuited." Mulciber eyes lit up in a way that made Regulus shiver. "Be ready to act."

Regulus couldn't remember volunteering to help, but it was too late to back out now.

He was soon tasked with finding a cat nobody would miss for a few days. He had no idea why Mulciber wanted a bloody cat. Regulus hesitated to just grab one of the first years' pets. Diane Glanville had a cat and she was nobody. But she still was a Slytherin nobody, a pureblood (for all her father wasn't), and it felt wrong. Fortunately, Regulus spotted a few days later a gray lop-eared cat chasing rats near the Quidditch field. He was quick to bag it.

Avery faked a note from a girl Rizzo liked to get the sixth year to come alone on the fourth floor between classes. Regulus wasn't there when they shoved the potion down his throat. It was a potion that forced the animagus change of people who were close to mastering the transformation. Rizzo had made no secret of being a small hawk, and close to becoming a full animagus.

The lop-eared cat had been kept in a cage with only water for three days. It hissed in hunger when the stunned hawk was brought before him. When the cage holding it vanished, the cat ravenously dived for its prey.

It was at that moment that Regulus was shoved by Mulciber in the empty classroom alongside Snape and Avery. He'd never forget the crunching sound of wing-bone shattered by feline teeth. The blood squirting from the hawks' neck amidst animal snarls and the sudden, ear-wrenching and terribly human, howl of agony. A wave of magic blasted the cat against the stone wall, crushing its skull on impact. Rizzo, man-shaped once more, in the way a half-torn bleeding twisted body could be called man-shaped, gasped for air, unconscious despite the moans escaping his torn mouth.

Regulus forced in a breath when it was clear there would be no second instance of accidental magic.

"We don't want a dead body on our hands," Snape muttered, paler than usual.

Yes, dead. If his magic hadn't awakened like this, Rizzo would be dead.

"We won't have one," Mulciber said, looking almost disappointed as he vanished all traces of the cage that had held the cat. "Let's go. They'll find him soon. The Ravens hold a debate club here every Wednesday."

It was chalked as an accident, to Rizzo wanting to hasten his transformation and not taking the necessary precautions. To wanting his housemates to find him as a hawk, and not counting on a cat passing by. Being highly disoriented during one's first full animagus transformation was hardly uncommon. Some Ravenclaws pushed for a more thorough investigation, so the potion remnants analyzed in Rizzo's stomach were analysed. They were declared to be commercial quality, something nobody save the more talented NEWTs students could have brewed. They were interrogated and found innocent. No more interrogations took place. Rizzo was cocky, and few were surprised. The cat's claws had dug in his brain, and the day of the attack was just one of many things he struggled to remember. He'd woken up blind and had to be transferred to Saint Mungo's. It wasn't clear whether he'd regain full use of his arms.

Everyone felt sorry for the poor dead cat. Macbeth. Brianna McLaggen was inconsolable.

"You made that potion." Weeks had passed before Regulus had been able to bring himself to ask and even now he whispered, half-wishing Snape would pretend not to hear and snap at him to practice his transfigurations.

The silence stretched, heavy. "You heard the aurors, it was commercial," Snape finally said, his expression neutral. Too neutral.

"Hey Snape, Black, come sit with us!" Avery called. "We have something for you."

Regulus hesitated, but Snape did not. So Regulus followed to where Mulciber, Avery, and Cousin Evan were sitting. Neither Avery nor Mulciber looked like they had nightmares. Mulciber's smile was unusually friendly as he handed Severus a package.

It was book of potions recipes, a rare translation from the look of it, and a box of ingredients.

"Brew the Fire Whisperer Elixir, Severus," Avery said. "I'll bring it to the Slug Club. It'll be easy to make Slughorn extend an invitation to its brewer without knowing it's you, and then he won't be able to rescind it. Wear those new robes Black gave you last year."

Cynicism dripped from Snape's every word. "You truly believe that -"

"Slughorn lets halfbloods in, and worse. Cresswell said he's mentioned wanting to invite that mudblood Evans." Snape's eyes widened at the admission. His jaw had clenched at mudblood but he said nothing. After a tense pause, Mulciber's eyes glinted in approval. "You've got talent, Snape, and you're one of us now, so no more skulking in the shadows."

There was something patronizing and hungry tightening Mulcibers' eyes. But Snape wasn't looking at the older boy. He was looking at the book with a fierce hunger of his own. "What do you want in exchange?"

Mulciber's smile broadened. It was an easy smile, so much that Regulus relaxed slightly, realizing perhaps this was what friendship was like with people like Mulciber. "Nothing, you paranoid ape. This is thanks for last time. You help me out again, well... that's how great partnerships work. Maybe we'll even be friends. That's as much on you as on me, Snape."

That was met with a sardonic smile. "Whatever. Thank you."

Mulciber chuckled and clasped Snape's shoulder. "Never thought I'd hear you say it. Happy studying."

Regulus' gift was also a book. A guide for second sons and daughters thrust into Lordship.

"For the future Lord Black."

What- "I'm not -"

Mulciber scoffed. "Look at your brother. Listen to him. You're only doomed to be in second place if you keep acting like it. Act the part, Black. You sorted Slytherin. Dig up that buried ambition."

"Sirius is a traitor, you can either let him drag the family down, or make him irrelevant." Cousin Evan smiled, his eyes softening at Regulus. "Don't worry, we'll help. Things are changing, we can make our own future now. Houses Rosier and Black will rise again."

Regulus wasn't a stranger to flattery. Already as a child he'd realized that adults seeking him at functions didn't genuinely think him that cute or interesting but wanted something. Information, his parent's favor, to sniff out weaknesses... And yet hearing that the guys expected him to become Lord... Regulus couldn't squash the pride filling his lungs, the hunger to be something other than the other Black. Than Sirius' kid brother.

Could they truly believe it?

Why would they waste their time on Regulus if they didn't?


In their dorm, Roland sat on the top bunk, his legs swinging. "You know they're buying you, right?"

"I think it's working..." Regulus admitted glumly. And yet he wasn't all that upset. He was proud even. Only... wary. "Don't worry, you're still my best friend."

"Just be careful. That's why I like being a dressmaker's son. No matter who wins, people need robes. You never hear of plots to assassinate the dressmaker."

Regulus shivered, Rizzo's shattered wings, his flayed body, flashing behind his eyes.

In truth, he liked his life at Hogwarts. The classes, his classmates (mostly), his teachers, the comfort of knowing where you had to be and what you had to learn, Quidditch, and of course the castle itself. Why couldn't it be enough? Why couldn't ambition be just... living?

And yet he couldn't deny that being allowed to sit there, with Mulciber and Avery made him feel like he was truly someone.

He pulled his knees to his chin and hid his face against his legs with a sigh.

"I know," Roland said sympathetically. "I'm not jealous, Reggie."


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