A/N: Thank you to all those who had reviewed/followed to this point! I really appreciate it:)

The days quickly passed into December. The air wasn't just chilly anymore—it was positively freezing, and Alex had to huddle closer to her winter cloak every time she went outside for Herbology class. All this didn't matter much, however, as the first midterms that the First Years were ever to take approached right before their eyes. Alex had taken to reviewing the materials in the library as well as doing her own reading and Regulus joined her more and more frequently as the last week before the holidays drew closer.

"What are the three main rules of transfiguration?" he muttered quietly under his breath not to gain notice of Madam Pince, whose hawklike eyes had gotten positively predatory as the exam week drew nearer.

Alex began to rattle off the list. "The matter cannot be created or destroyed in an isolated system. The matter can grow more complex in a given state. The matter cannot reach…"

"SHHHH!" Madam Pince's shushing was actually louder than their combined whispering, but Alex shut her mouth, contrite, and went back to her textbook.

"I told you that you already know all these things," Regulus muttered. "You don't need to study."

"But do you know all these things?" Alex challenged. Regulus merely raised an eyebrow and Alex felt silly for having asked the question.

"The first quidditch match is this weekend," Regulus said casually.

"Yes, you've mentioned it only a dozen times or so."

"It'll be an educational experience," Regulus insisted. "I can teach you all the strategies."

"I don't mind going, I just think it's a bad idea to skive off studying when the exam's next week."

"It's Slytherin versus Gryffindor!"

"So?"

"So? It's going to be the biggest match of the year!"

"We haven't won the House Cup in thirteen years!"

"Doesn't mean we can't beat Gryffindor!"

Alex rolled her eyes. "How do you know, Regulus?"

Regulus looked around guardedly before reaching into his bag. From the bottom of it he pulled out an ancient-looking leather-bound notebook and placed it on the table with a loving hand. In front of it it read: Slytherin Quidditch Team, 1954-

"Regulus," Alex said slowly. "Do I even want to know what that is?"

Regulus's eyes were shining, excitement dancing in them. "This is the record of every player, score, and strategy ever used by the Slytherin quidditch team. I reckon it's a bit of a new tradition, but it's brilliant. It's bloody brilliant." Alex looked at Regulus strangely. Regulus was not one to use expletives in daily conversation unless the situation merited the usage of the said expletive—which was rare, if not ever.

"Look," he went on excitedly, opening the book and pointing at a chart. "There's the list of player's names for the first game in 1954—against Hufflepuff, the poor duffers. Bulstrode, Downey, Downey, McMillan, Nott, Selwyn, Wymond. Wymond's the captain. Slytherin won hands-down, 70-340. But that's not the best thing. Look!" Regulus's impatient voice waved at the next two pages. "Isn't that bloody amazing?"

Alex peered over the book. On the page was a simplified drawing of the quidditch field, but a few seconds after Regulus opened the page the drawing seemed to grow from the page, becoming three-dimensional. The three hoops stood at the ends of the field impressively, and fourteen flyers, designated by miniature broomsticks with different colors and names attached to them, took off from the ground from their respective sides. As she watched, the tiny broomsticks with names zoomed and moved, passing back tiny balls drawn to scale, until the brooms paused midair for a moment. A line seemingly from nowhere traced the route that the players took in a complicated pattern to show how the players moved before the game resumed again. Alex watched, transfixed, and Regulus grinned knowingly before he tapped his wand on the page. The simulation shrunk back to the page, and the dots were still moving, albeit only horizontally on the pages. The game paused again and there was again a magical line that traced the pages in green. Then again appeared a scribbling in the empty corner of the page: Limproom's Triangle. Best when the opposite team's chasers are closer together in the middle. Drawback: Downey's broom defective.

Alex squinted at the scribbling. It was by no means by a neat writer, and the scribbling looked more like scratching. The same handwriting had been used for the chart and the front cover of the book.

"What on earth is this?" Alex asked in hushed voice.

"Best thing ever invented since Merlin's soggy socks, obviously!" Regulus was almost yelling.

"SHHHH!" A reprimand came from Madam Pince. They both looked down and remained quiet until Madam Pince passed by.

"But who wrote this?" Alex's voice sounded strange to her own ears. Strangled.

"It says in the foreword, here," Regulus flipped to the front page of the notebook. "As the new captain of the Slytherin quidditch team… having witnessed the sorry attempts by the predecessors… designed and crafted… for the benefit of future quidditch players to come. Signed: Altair Wymond. And I'm sure I saw his picture somewhere…" he began to leaf through the notebook, and cried out triumphantly when he found what he was looking for. "Here it is—what's wrong?"

Alex had been staring, no glaring, at the notebook for the entirety of Regulus's dreamy reading of the passage. When she heard the question Alex looked up to find her friend's face oddly open and concerned. Alex shook her head.

"It's nothing."

"Well, this is the picture of the Slytherin team from 1954-55. That's Nott right there—you can sort of see the family resemblance, and Wymond-" Regulus stopped in his tracks. Looked up at Alex. Looked down at the picture. Looked up at Alex again. Looked down again at the picture. A short silence.

"Oh."

Alex didn't say anything. Regulus cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Have you—have you known all along?" he asked.

Alex swallowed. "Not long enough," she said. "I found out the day… on Halloween. That's why I was in the Owlery. I wanted to ask my mum about it, but then-" Alex breathed in with some difficulty. "You know what happened."

Regulus nodded.

"I thought about looking into him," Alex said. "But I didn't have many leads aside from his name." She looked at the picture from the first time. Altair Wymond was younger than she had seen him in his graduation, and this time he was grinning widely, proudly holding the quidditch cup in his hands. The other Slytherin players were also smiling, whooping, celebrating, but Alex's eyes focused on him, his smile that felt altogether familiar, the crinkle of the eyes, the lift of the lips.

Regulus looked away for a second, as though he wanted to give her privacy. Then he looked back at the notebook. "Well, from what I could gather, he was bloody good at Quidditch," he said, as though that was the most imperative thing about him. Alex laughed weakly.

"How did you even find this book anyway?" Alex said. She didn't like the awkwardness that had settled between them because of the topic and Regulus perked up at this, excitement again gleaming in his eyes.

"In the beginning of the year I asked Lucius if I could look around the quidditch storage room—you know, First Years aren't allowed to try out, and I wanted to get to know the place if nothing else. The school brooms are quite dismal, but there were a lot of used balls and quidditch manuals that students hadn't bothered in years. The book was on the bottom of the pile." Regulus's eyes shined, transported to the past by the memory alone. "I reckon that the book hadn't been passed on to the next quidditch captain in years, but somehow they're all there—all the games in the past fifteen years. I think the notebook's enchanted to take down notes when the captain didn't."

Alex reached out for the notebook and Regulus didn't argue. She looked at the scrawly handwriting, the tiny notes jotted down next to several diagrams, photos of the broomsticks and players, tracing over them with her fingers. "Do you think he made this entire thing?" she asked. "Drawings and all?"

Regulus looked at her. "He's the only person on there, right?"

Alex didn't answer.

"In any case, I wanted to make an addition to the notebook. That thing's been neglected far too long and there are actually several new moves that I can update to make it more up-to-date," Regulus said. "So I'm going to the game this Saturday. Are you coming?" Alex nodded, still looking at the notebook.

"Hey, Regulus?" she said after a while.

"Yeah?"

"Can I keep this notebook? Just for a while," she hastily added at his alarmed expression, as though the thought of parting with it brought him physical pain. "To look over it. You can have it back anytime you want."

"All right," Regulus said, and they lapsed into silence. Alex dropped the notebook to her lap and it stayed there the entire time as they finished their homework for the week.

Alex was lying on her bed, flipping through the notebook. It was obvious when the actual recording ended and magic took over; there were ink splotches and smudged letters in the entries written in the first three years. Altair Wymond was not a neat writer, and this knowledge brought some comfort to her. Her father—she didn't know if he was even alive or dead—once had a messy handwriting.

It seemed that he was also quite adapt in his position as the Keeper. One diagram of the game that was particularly exciting had been the last game between Slytherin and Gryffindor in his Seventh Year. Alex watched as he deflected some deft attacks from the Gryffindor Chasers, moving adroitly and cleverly, feinting to confuse the Chaser and even directing to ball to where he wanted it to go. Alex stared at the tiny broomstick with the name Wymond written above it. That was all she had of him.

She heard the dorm room door open and quickly closed the notebook, hiding it under her pillow and grabbing the Hogwarts: A History on her nightstand. Rebecca and Leila entered, chattering animatedly, and Alex nonchalantly flipped through the section about hidden rooms and passageways built when Hogwarts was still used as a fortress as well as a school.

"Alex, are you going to the Quidditch game tomorrow?" Rebecca asked, and Alex looked up from the book, surprised.

"Uh—yeah. Yeah I am. Are you?" she asked.

Rebecca nodded enthusiastically, and Leila said, conversationally enough, "You should come with us, then."

"I—alright," Alex said without brooding over it, feeling uncomfortable. Leila shrugged.

"Cool," she said.

"I didn't realize that you liked quidditch, Alex," Rebecca said, sitting on the foot of her bed, and Alex tried not to let her discomfort show on her face.

"I don't know much about it, to be honest," she said. "I figured I should get to know it better." Rebecca nodded.

"Quite honestly I don't know much about it either," Rebecca said. "But my brother's really fond of the game and I've seen him play with his mates a couple of times over the summer."

"I wouldn't expect much from it, if I were you," Leila said darkly. "This year's team's a joke."

Rebecca whipped her head to Leila's side. "Don't say that!" she said.

Leila shrugged again. "It's true," she said. "They keep changing the Seeker every year. Malfoy isn't half bad as the captain, and Flint—he's third year—is quite good as a Beater along with Montague, but the Seeker's a second year who doesn't know what he's doing."

"How do you know all this?" Alex asked in amazement.

"My brother's the new idiot Seeker,' she said.

"I just think he's more of a Chaser," Rebecca said. "That's what Greg—my brother—says anyway."

"Is he also on the team?" Alex asked.

"Oh no. He didn't make the cut," Rebecca said. Leila gave Alex a knowing look and Alex bit back a smile.

"Maybe next year the lineup won't be so bad," Leila said. "I would try out myself if they allowed it."

Alex frowned. "Why wouldn't they allow you to try out?" she asked. She remembered the first flying lesson, when she had stood next to Leila with her broom. She had been a decent flyer, or so had Alex thought…

Leila looked at her if she was stupid. "'Cause I'm a girl, obviously," she said.

"That doesn't make any sense," Alex said. "I thought there were girl players at Hogwarts."

"There are," Rebecca said, examining her nails. "Just not in Slytherin."

"Why not?" Alex asked.

"Because our house is full of self-important prats? I don't know," Leila drawled, and now Rebecca rolled her eyes and gave Alex a knowing look. Alex looked confusedly back at her and Rebecca mouthed boy hater.

"But like you said, I think next year's lineup will be superb," Rebecca said animatedly. "The keeper and two chasers are seventh years and they won't be here next year. Maybe Greg will make it the that time. And Regulus Black is quite good, too. He'll be allowed to try out next year." She giggled. Leila rolled her eyes.

"Is he really that good?" Alex asked curiously. Regulus had received some praise from Madam Hooch during their flying lesson, and had consequently gotten some nasty looks from James Potter for it.

"He's adequate," Leila said, sounding bored.

"He's brilliant," Rebecca said simultaneously. "He's really fast, and he can maneuver like no one else can-"

"He's small and light. And he has a good broom. He would have to be an idiot not to be fast," Leila shot back.

"He's not that small," Rebecca defended him but Alex had to admit that while Regulus was on the taller side he wasn't exactly bulky.

They continued to bicker and Alex sat watching them from her bed. Ever since Regulus and she had become friends—by which it meant that he sat with her during meals and classes and sometimes went with her to the library to study, which he apparently didn't do as often with other boys in his year—the two girls in her year had been more accepting of her presence. This was the first time that they had engaged in a longer conversation, but they were less wary of her and didn't stop talking whenever she entered the room. Even the boys seemed more interested in her—or, at least, aware of the fact that there was someone named Wilson in the Slytherin house—with the exception of Snape, who treated her the same way he'd always treated her. And that was fine by Alex, who preferred his cool constancy to the others' incomprehensible change in attitude. Regulus, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to the changes, or at least pretended to be so when she had mentioned it to him a couple of days ago.

"They're still the same people," he had said cryptically before going back to his newspaper.

The next morning the three girls left the dorm room together, a new development which Regulus seemed rather disgruntled at. Or that's how Alex had interpreted his lips pressed unmistakably together as he held the entrance door for them. Alex wondered if his impeccable manners—whatever he may have said about other boys at school who were rowdy, stupid, or mean, he never touched on the girls unless he had to—had something to do with the fact that there were no female players in the Slytherin quidditch team but Regulus didn't say much on their way to the Great Hall and Alex didn't feel obliged to bring it up.

"Did you bring the notebook?" he asked under his breath at the breakfast table, reaching for his pumpkin juice. Alex nodded.

"I wish you hadn't brought them," he muttered darkly. Alex looked at him questioningly.

"They asked if I wanted to come with them and I said yes," she said. Regulus answered by shoving a large forkful of eggs into his mouth.

"Rebecca seemed quite keen with you," Alex said quietly, raising an eyebrow at his his direction. "She said you were good at flying. Brilliant, in fact."

"That's hardly a new development," Regulus snapped. Several other students looked at his direction curiously and Regulus waved them off.

"Which part? The keen part or the brilliant part?" Regulus's scowl deepened and Alex felt odd enjoyment at his reaction.

"Excited for the game, Black?" the question came from Marcus Flint, a Second Year Chaser. Regulus grinned.

"Naturally," he drawled. Alex looked at Regulus, who only gave her a blank look.

"Feeling the house spirit, I see," Flint nodded at Regulus's gray scarf.

"A lucky coincidence," Regulus answered. "Good luck in the game—we can't possibly lose."

Flint grinned back, showing far too many teeth for it to be called friendly. "We'll crush them," he said. Regulus nodded and went back to his breakfast.

The stadium was filled with cold morning air when they arrived and the seats which were higher up were only colder. Regulus had discreetly grabbed a jam jar during breakfast in which he put a small magical fire and they huddled close to it, shivering in the chill of the December air. Next to her Rebecca sat, rubbing her hands together insider her mittens, and Leila was making a bet with other first-year Slytherins.

"Of course Flint's going to fall," she retorted. "He hasn't the sense of balance to keep him on the broom for five seconds." Leila was the only one who seemed to be betting against the Slytherins and Alex watched, amused.

"Watch what you say, Parkinson," Rosier said. "Might just make you lose."

Leila huffed. "I'd like to see you try to stop me," she said. "Besides, it's obvious. Gryffindor has Wood and Bell. They're strong Beaters." Crawford Wood and Johnson Bell were Seventh year Gryffindor beaters and from what Alex could gather from Regulus's slight grunt were quite good at their positions.

"Flint's not worth talking about, let's move on to Malfoy," Avery said loudly. "Any bets that he'll score the first goal?"

"Second," Leila said just as loudly.

Next to her Regulus rolled his eyes. "You'd think they would be more considerate toward their own team members," he said.

Alex grinned. "Any bets, Regulus?"

Regulus considered, all seriousness. Alex shook her head in exasperated amusement. "Flint will probably fall off at one point," he said. "He's a good flyer, but he's not a chaser. Just because he's good with handling balls doesn't mean he can withstand the speed. He's more of a Keeper. Lucius will probably be fine, but I wouldn't count on him doing anything until the third or the fourth goal."

Alex now rolled her eyes. "I think you spent too much time in the quidditch pitch," she said.

"I like quidditch," Regulus said.

"I know, but you're not even on the team."

The game certainly could have gone better. By the end every face in the Slytherin stand was dark and muted, and they rose without comment after the game. Even Alex, who was not particularly involved in the game and the house rivalry, felt drained and exhausted after watching Flint fall off the broom not only once or twice but three times and Leila's brother break his shoulder by throwing himself at the Snitch without calculating what that would mean for his body which was suspended about ten feet off the ground. He didn't even catch it.

"What does it say?" Alex said tiredly, rubbing her eyes and digging her legs to one of the armchairs in the more comfortable sections of the library.

"Not much," Regulus said, looking intently at the notebook. "The game's already on there. Hold on, it misspelled Parkinson," he dipped his quill in his ink bottle before trying to scratch out the misspelling. Alex watched from her seat.

"Huh," she heard, a crease between his eyebrows. Alex sat up straighter.

"What?"

"Look," Regulus said, holding it up. Alex peered at the notebook and saw the words Regulus had written disappear.

"Do you think it's some sort of a charm?" Alex asked. "Maybe it's to prevent other people from writing on it."

Regulus's brows furrowed. "Maybe," he said. "Hold on—something else is appearing…" Alex drew closer to the table and the two watched as words appeared on a blank page in the same messy handwriting. And you are? It said.

Regulus looked at Alex, who looked back uncertainly. "Should we write back?" he asked. Alex frowned.

"I don't know," Alex said cautiously. "You don't think this notebook is jinxed, or something, do you?"

Regulus considered. "I don't think so," he said. "If it was dangerous it wouldn't have been abandoned in the equipment room, don't you think?" But Alex hadn't the time to respond that perhaps it was exactly because no one wanted to deal with the notebook that they had thrown it away but before she could say so Regulus raised his quill again and wrote, My name is Regulus Arcturus Black. His words slowly disappeared from the notebook again.

You're not the captain, the notebook said. You're not even on the team. Regulus looked faintly annoyed at this.

I may be next year, he wrote. The notebook didn't respond for a while.

Who scored the third goal in the last game? The book suddenly asked.

Urquhart, Regulus wrote.

What is the best strategy when two chasers are far away from the field and the only remaining offensive is surrounded on both sides by beaters?

Slip Hee's Drop.

What is it called when two beaters go after the same bludger?

Marissa's Kiss.

Which team won the 1966 Quidditch World Cup?

Australia.

The book didn't respond for a while again. Really? It finally said.

Unfortunately, Regulus wrote.

Well, then, Regulus Arcturus Black, the notebook said. Best of luck to you next year. I hereby grant you the position as a permanent editor. Then the book remained silent and when Regulus crossed out Parkinson's name and rewrote it it did not protest.

Regulus looked up from the notebook, looking rather impressed. "I've got to admit," Regulus said. "Altair Wymond, whoever he was—he had a style."

The exams went much better than Alex had feared and when she stepped out of McGonagall's classroom—her last exam—Alex felt her footsteps ten times lighter than they had been a while. Even Regulus, who had seemed unfazed throughout the entire process, appeared more cheerful and talkative than usual during dinner. It was now the morning of their departure and they were on Hogwarts Express, having marched through snow and the forest to board the train. She had found an empty compartment near the end of the train and they were sitting in relative silence, watching the snowy landscape pass by.

"Do you have any plans for the holiday?" Alex asked. Her mother had sent her a letter a couple of days before that she'll be at King's Cross to pick her up and Alex tried to contain the excitement at seeing her mother again. But at the corner of her mind she also feared the reunion—what if Alex had changed too much, or what if it turns out they can't talk the way they used to, what if…

Regulus frowned. "I think Mother wants us to go to France during the holiday," he said. "It's certainly warmer there."

Alex nodded.

"The holidays won't be so bad," Regulus said, smiling a little at her, but it felt like he was saying that for his benefit as well.

"Sirius?" she asked.

"Sirius," he nodded.

"I thought you said that Sirius usually gets his way with things because he's the first son," Alex started tentatively. Regulus smiled humorlessly.

"He does," he answered. "I'm just hoping that he keeps his mouth shut about Mother and her ideas. Not everyone is going to think exactly the same way, but Sirius can't seem to accept that."

"Well," Alex said, "Their ways of thinking are more than just a little bit different."

Regulus sighed. "I know that," he said. "But he could try to behave, at least. Mother isn't young anymore, and so isn't Father. And it's the holidays, of all things."

"There you are!" Rebecca's cheery voice rang through the compartment as the door opened and her face poked through. "I was wondering where you'd disappeared off to." Alex couldn't tell if the words were directed at herself or Regulus.

"Hey Alex," Leila said, glumly settling herself next to her. Alex nodded.

"Parkinson, you still haven't paid up—oh, hi, Regulus," Rosier appeared by the door and Regulus nodded back.

"Rosier. Avery. Mulciber. Snape," he said. "My, my. You brought the entire gang."

The rest of the train ride turned out to be much louder than Alex had anticipated, and she thought Regulus looked a little tired as well as he played the wizarding chess with Avery. Regulus, it turned out, wasn't half a bad chess player, although Avery insisted that it was because of his interest in Quidditch than actual talent, which earned him an amused look from his opponent. Meanwhile Alex listened as Rebecca explained her relatives and who were and were not visiting this year. When the trolley witch came by their compartment, everyone rushed to buy something. Alex remained in her seat and Regulus waited until everyone's had had their share of practically pillaging the cart.

"Here," he said, tossing Alex a box of cauldron cake. Alex felt her face grow red despite the cold outside.

"It's fine," she said, getting ready to give it back to him.

"Take it as an early Christmas present," Regulus said, and went back to watching the game between Snape and Mulciber. Alex grudgingly peeled open the box and took a bite out of the cake, aware of the odd gaze from Rebecca's direction.

The rest of the train ride went proceeded without hassle and Alex felt a sense of belonging and out-of-place-ness at the same time when she put on her older clothes back on. Her jeans which used to be slightly too long for her fit her just right and her sweater which she had worn to tatters stretched around her shoulders tightly and Alex fiddled with the sleeves of her coat, nervous. Other students hadn't bothered to dress out of their school robes except for Regulus and Snape, who mumbled something about living near Muggles. The train came to a stop near the evening and platform Nine and Three Quarters was full of parents and families dressed warmly in winter gear. Alex peered from the compartment window but she couldn't find the familiar face among the crowd.

"Happy holiday!" Rebecca waved cheerfully and Alex waved back. Leila nodded at her in farewell and Alex raised her eyebrow. Leila smirked.

"Merry Christmas," she heard Regulus close behind her and when she turned around to look at him he grinned slightly and laid a hand on her shoulder before walking away to an imposing figure of a woman she had once seen so long ago in Ollivander's wand shop. Alex watched him go and soon they were joined by Sirius who didn't look as happy as other students in the station and the family soon left.

"Alex!"

Alex looked around and finally found her. There, at almost the end of the platform, separated from the bodies of family and friends and relatives and laughter and merriment her mother stood by herself, her arms outstretched toward her. Alex couldn't tell if she was walking or running or how she even got there but she was in her mother's arms laughing and smiling and perhaps there were even tears in her eyes but she couldn't tell. She breathed in the familiar scent of something woody and vanilla and remembered all the holidays they had spent together by themselves in the little house with a very small tree and presents and a holiday meal that they shared and sometimes she had decorated the little cookies she baked with her mother and they were happy in her childhood memory and Alex couldn't tell if she would be that happy anymore but it didn't matter. She felt her mother's arms strong and tight around her and Alex squeezed her back and she heard her mother laughing and calling her name and asking her how she was and how the school had been and Alex tried to answer but what she said didn't seem as important the fact that her mother's face hovered in front of her smiling and a little thin and pale but smiling nonetheless and Alex smiled back widely and clung to her mother's side like a little child and they slowly moved from the station to the car dragging her trunk behind them and Alex couldn't remember why she was so excited. She was with her mother again. She was home.