Alex leaned her head against the windowpane, feeling the coldness of the outside seep into her skin, the movement of the train occasionally rattling her skull against the hard glass. She saw her breath fog up the glass, obscuring the view of the snowy vision outside, but she didn't want to watch the beautiful scenery. She rubbed her eyes, feeling the tiredness wash over her.

The winter break had been pleasant, as pleasant as it used to be, Alex supposed. There was the traditional holiday dinner with chocolate cake and the small Christmas tree in the living room and the opening of presents. But presents—that's where things began to go south.

"Who are these from?" her mother asked from behind her, holding her own Christmas present.

"The chocolate's from Leila and the ink bottle's from Rebecca—they're both in my year. The scarf's from Regulus," Alex said, gathering around the wrappers, trying not to look too excited. How long had it been since she'd received a Christmas present from someone other than her mother? She didn't think it ever happened.

"Regulus?" her mother said. "The Black boy?"

Alex looked at her mother. "Yeah," she said.

Her mother didn't answer, instead scrutinizing the scarf as it were poisonous or as if it would somehow suddenly turn into a slithering snake by itself. Alex sighed.

"We're both in the same year and house, Mom," she said.

"I know," her mother said distractedly, then cleared her throat, looking sideways at the small Christmas tree. "Alex," she began. "Are all your friends—do you have any friends outside Slytherin?"

Alex considered. "Well, there's Remus," she said. "Remus Lupin. We met on our train ride to Hogwarts. He's nice. He's in Gryffindor."

Her mother nodded. "And… anyone else?"

Alex rolled her eyes. "Most people at Hogwarts don't like the Slytherins, Mom," she said. "They wouldn't like me even if I approached them."

Her mother sighed. "I know that," she said. "I just sometimes wonder… just if they'll make the best friends for you. The friends in your house." Her mother seemed to deliberate on her words more than usual and Alex frowned. "It's nice to have a good relationship with everyone you share your dorm with, of course, but sometimes it's nice to… branch out. Meet different people. I'm just worried that you aren't very happy in Slytherin."

"Why would you think that?" Alex quickly asked.

"You barely talk about your classmates in your letters. You talk about homework and classes but you rarely mention what you do with your friends on weekends."

"I study in the library, Mom," Alex said. "Sometimes with Regulus."

Her mother frowned again. "Ah yes," she said. "The Black boy."

Alex looked oddly at her. "Why do you keep calling him that?" she said.

"He's a Black," her mother said matter-of-factly, as if that explained everything.

"So everyone keeps saying," Alex said. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Alex, you've met his mother. Surely you remember what kind of a woman she was." The memory of the tall woman who looked down at her certainly wasn't a pleasant memory.

"But Regulus is..." she considered. "He's nice," she finally decided. Her mother sighed.

"Nice," she repeated.

"I mean, he has some different ideas, but overall—"

"Do you agree with his ideas?" the question came sharply and Alex looked at her mother, puzzled.

"You don't even know what his ideas are."

"He's a Black—I can guess," her mother said dismissively. "Well, do you?"

Alex looked down at the box again, surprised and hurt by the assumption. "I don't know," she said. "Half of the time I don't even understand where he's coming from." There was a pause.

"Something about the Blacks that you should know, Alex," her mother said after a while, "is that they're purebloods. What that means is—"

"I know what a pureblood is, mom—"

"What that means is," her mother continued firmly, "is that they like their position. They like the money they have and the social standing they have and they will do anything to keep it. I know you have friends now because you're younger, but I just don't want you to be disappointed when you all grow up."

Alex frowned at the box. "We're not that close," she muttered.

"And you should also know that their views are not shared by the general wizarding public," her mother continued. "It sends a specific message when you start talking like them—"

"Mom, I don't believe in blood purity and I don't believe that Muggleborns are somehow inferior. For all I knew I was a Muggleborn. Besides, there are a lot of students at Hogwarts who are smart and who don't come from a wizarding family. But Regulus is the only one so far who has been remotely willing to talk to me on a daily basis and I don't want to stop talking to him just because he's a pureblood." Her answer came out more hotly than Alex had intended and she felt a flush creep up her cheeks. Her mother looked back at her, and Alex didn't want to know what she would find in her face.

The rest of the break had been inevitably tense, and although her mother never broached the subject again, Alex could tell that she was brooding over it. The tension was there during meals around the table, when Alex rode next to her mother whenever they went grocery shopping, when Alex went outside to check for mail—everywhere. Alex knew that she was not just overinterpreting her mother's wariness of Regulus; her suspicions were confirmed when they went back to King's Cross a week later, where her mother had watched over the crowd like a hawk, and her nose scrunched distastefully when she spotted the familiar three black heads bobbing amongst the throng. Alex didn't comment on this but simply sighed, and chose not to go to the Black family to greet Regulus. Instead she chose an empty compartment near the front of the train, feeling slightly claustrophobic in the large empty space. She waved drearily at her mother as the train started and Sophia Wilson had waved back with a little encouraging smile. Alex wasn't entirely reassured.

The trees behind the windows passed in a blur, forming a whirly wall of faint brown bark and branches, and Alex wondered. Her mother wasn't wrong—it would be nice to have friends outside Slytherin, a house united by some common interest that Alex wasn't part of. It would certainly be nice to talk more often with Remus and have longer discussions in the library, but Potter and Black had always interrupted them and made fun of Remus whenever they found him talking with her and soon after Remus stopped approaching her in the library. Alex supposed that she understood—he had his friends in his house who were fun to be around and just boys—but it did sting; hadn't she been friends with him before them? She went through the faces she had learned to recognize through her classes—the entire First Years at Hogwarts. None came to mind as particularly friendly outside those in the Slytherin House. But there was always Regulus.

Regulus Black—the more puzzling part of the problem. They were friends—at least, they had established their relationship formally as friendship and Alex figured that that was as far as it could go for them at the time. One didn't make friends overnight or even over three months. And Regulus in his quaint way had made indications that he didn't mind her company, preferring to follow her to the library instead of spending time with other Slytherins in his year in the common room and exchanging knowing glances during classes with her whenever Professor Slughorn said something particularly insensitive. The girls in their year he avoided like the plague, and Alex could understand a little; they wanted to be friends with him because "he was a Black" and he didn't want to be friends with them because they liked him as a Black. But Alex never got the impression that Regulus disliked being called a Black—quite the contrary. He was proud of it, wore the name the way prefects wear their badges (or, at least, the way Malfoy wore his prefect badge). He believed that there was significance to the tradition that followed the name, and Alex couldn't understand why he would condescend to acknowledge her, whose name wasn't so proudly worn…

"Knut for your thoughts?"

Regulus's voice broke her out of the reverie and Alex realized for the first time that she had been frowning. She sat up from her slumped position and tried to smile at Regulus's grinning face in front of her.

"Hi," she said, feeling shy—she had just been thinking of him, hadn't she? And perhaps not in a way a loyal friend would do.

"Hullo," he said, settling across from her after putting away his trunk. Edge was in his cage, hooting softly, as though it was happy to see her. Alex cringed inwardly—so he was planning to stay. The fact would have made her glad had it not been for the image of reprobation in her mother's eyes that kept swimming in front of her.

"You're wearing the scarf, I see," Regulus said. He was still grinning and Alex was beginning to find this a little unnerving.

"Uh—yeah. Yes. It's—it's really warm. Thank you for the present. Especially seeing as I didn't—" she swallowed, beginning to feel even more awkward than she had. She had not thought to exchange presents with him—didn't know that wizards did exchange presents, and even if they did, that they were in a relationship where people exchanged presents. Not that it was an unpleasant surprise. But apparently that was what friends did. Or perhaps Regulus was just overly polite. There was always that possibility. "I'm sorry that I didn't get you anything," she managed to say.

Regulus waved it off. "It's fine," he said.

"I mean, I did get you something," Alex said. "My mom and I were buying groceries, and I bought this—hold on—" she struggled to get up and get access to her trunk.

"Really, Alex, it's fine—" Regulus began to say.

"Chocolates!" Alex exclaimed, perhaps a little too dramatically. The grin had finally slipped off Regulus's face and it felt a little better to be back to normalcy except that her voice sounded a little hysteric, even to her own ears. "I figured—figured that you never had normal chocolates. Or Muggle chocolates, as you might say." She thrust the box into his hands, who took it dumbly. "Happy holidays. Or happy belated holidays. I mean—"

"Thank you." Regulus was looking down at the box of chocolates, his brows furrowed, as though he was thinking hard about something. He looked up and gave her a fleeting smile. "I like chocolates. Thank you."

Alex sat down slowly, feeling the panic recede into her. "I thought you might," she said faintly. "Saw you buy half a dozen chocolate frogs on our way back from Hogwarts."

Regulus laughed, looking a little abashed, but nonetheless smiled at her and Alex felt a knot of anxiety within her loosen slightly.

"Oh yeah, I meant to tell you," Regulus said after a while. It was lunchtime, and the trolley lady had already passed by their compartment. Alex was holding her mother's sandwich in her hand, but it felt less uncomfortable than she had imagined it would feel like—quite natural, actually, as she watched Regulus open a bottle of pumpkin juice.

"What?"

"Wymond," he said, taking a swig. "I thought I had seen the name before—you know, from the notebook—so I went through some of the books in the library. Turns out, one of the books was written by a Wymond."

Alex raised her eyebrows. "Don't tell me you know every book there is in your house?"

Regulus rolled his eyes but didn't deny this, and Alex could guess the answer to the question. "It's this," he said, reaching into the inner pocket of his robe. "Fortresses and Defenses. Polaris Wymond."

Alex took the book wordlessly. It was old, perhaps older than most books she had seen at Hogwarts. The book seemed to be in excellent condition, however; it was finely bound and covered in leather, its titles engraved permanently in gold. Its spine had a look of an ancient crocodile back, with regular bumps that seemed skeletal. The book was black, and the patterns on the book, although by no means shabby, gave a foreboding feeling. It was in any case not a book of fairytales.

"It's really old," Regulus said after swallowing a bite of his cauldron cake. "The library is divided into sections—so that we can tell when the book is from—and the book came from the time when the ninth Cygnus was still having an affair with his Italian mistress." Alex gave him an odd look. He shrugged. "What? It was the sixteenth century. England admired Italy in the sixteenth century."

"The ninth Cygnus?"

"Well, there are so many first names taken from the constellation," Regulus explained. "I'm lucky, I suppose; my name didn't really come in style until the nineteenth century."

"How do you even know what the ninth Cygnus was doing four hundred years ago?

"Family history," Regulus answered as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "The ninth Cygnus is rather famous in our family, actually. A lot of mistresses, a lot of children. I think he also sponsored several artists and other professionals from around the world. Which would explain why that book is in our library," he pointed at the book. "Look at what's written inside the cover."

Alex opened the book and peered at the yellow parchment. It had not withered, but some of the ink seemed to have lost their clarity over the years. The words, however, were written boldly and strongly enough that it still made sense even now.

"To preserve and protect what is dearest to our hearts," Alex read slowly, "the humble servant dedicates this book to her master revealing the most closely guarded secrets of her kin..." Alex frowned. "Polaris Wymond. That doesn't make any sense."

"Why not?"

"Because—I don't know. You said that this book is four hundred years old."

"Actually, the affair went from 1517 to 1527," Regulus said. "So about four hundred and fifty years, give or take. The mistress had to go back home because Rome was in danger."

"So it means that the Wymond, whoever they are, have been around for at least four hundred and fifty years."

Regulus considered. "That sounds the most logical, yes," he said. "Unless they're different Wymonds."

"Reg, how many Wymonds are there in Great Britain?

Regulus paused. "Not many. So far we've seen two. And I told you—it's a small community. If there had been Wymonds before, there would have been more records." Alex turned the book in her hand, feeling its weight that felt oddly familiar.

"It's not exactly the most exciting book," he said. "It's about different defense systems of various castles and residences across Europe. I think old Cygnus was trying to build yet another mansion. There's a blueprint at the back of the book—see?—and I think it's the one in Province… although that one hasn't been in use in a while."

"Maybe the Wymonds have been in the business of, I don't know, defense or something like that," Alex said. "She here said 'the closely guarded secrets of her kin.' Her kin could mean family, couldn't it?"

"Or a tribe," Regulus said.

"What tribe?" Alex asked. Regulus shrugged.

"So you think—you think this Wymond has something to do with… with the one you found in the Quidditch storage room?" Alex asked tentatively.

"I can't say with certainty," he answered, "but it's a rather amazing coincidence, isn't it? Both of them seemed to be rather fond of strategies, whether it's defense or Quidditch. And the way they went about writing a book. Some of the illustrations in that book really do come alive and it's chockfull of defensive spells that I've never heard of—and Mother is rather particular that we should learn all of them."

Alex stood and reached up to her trunk, rummaging with some difficulty before finding the old notebook, which was virtually in tatters compared to the book from Regulus's house.

"Her kin," Alex repeated. "Women weren't really going about writing books during that time, if I remember from History of Magic."

"That's the Muggleborn community," Regulus said. "Wizards who have been around long enough didn't discriminate based on gender. There was no need to—witches can do as much magic as wizards."

"Reg, girls aren't even allowed in the Quidditch team," Alex said.

Regulus frowned distastefully. "I admit that even the pureblood community adopted some ideas from Muggleborns whenever they suited their purpose," he said. "But the true purebloods follow the doctrine of equality—we look at magic, not gender." At Alex's skeptical look, he added lightly, "Just look at my Mother. She rules with an iron fist in our household." Alex wasn't convinced, but decided to move on to her next question.

"So do you think she was some sort of a specialist?" Alex asked. "The book feels pretty specific."

"My guess is that it's some sort of family business, what she writes about," Regulus said. "It was common for the heads of wizarding families to pass on their business to their children. It keeps the secret of their success inside the family, you know. There were many families in the sixteenth century who were in the business of apothecary potions. Their works became the basis of our common potion making today, and the progress they made in their fields was spurred on by the competition they presented each other." Regulus sounded like he was reading straight out of the history textbook.

"So she decided to dedicate this book to one Mr. Cygnus Black," Alex said. "I don't suppose that she was only doing it for business. 'The humble servant' and 'her master' and all."

Regulus grinned. "Knowing Cygnus, probably not."

"Shouldn't you be more scandalized?" Alex said. "After all, he was having an affair while having an affair. That doesn't even make any sense."

"I doubt Lucretia, his wife, was exactly faithful to him," Regulus answered. "It has always been a marriage of convenience for the eldest son of the Black family. Still is, actually."

Alex's eyes widened. "So Sirius—"

Regulus nodded. "Sirius already has a fiancée," he said. "Genevieve Bastion. She goes to Beaubaxton."

"Do you know her?"

Regulus shrugged. "As much as I know anyone else," he said. "I think she and Sirius are supposed keep a regular correspondence, although who knows what he's doing nowadays."

Alex looked down at the book in her hands. The subject of his brother always seemed to incite in Regulus an odd mixture of affection, exasperation and resentment and she felt hesitant when approaching the topic. Did all siblings have this kind of a relationship?

"So are you engaged as well?" Alex asked, trying not to sound too nosy. To her surprise Regulus laughed.

"Merlin, no," he said, still chortling. "I'm just here to fill in the role of the profligate son until I'm reformed by some family matters. Or until I go into politics."

Alex smiled at his joke, but looked away, hoping that Regulus couldn't see her expression. Regulus and profligate did not go well together—in fact, it seemed much more suited for Sirius, who was, according to Regulus, supposed to be the perfect Black. And it seemed that, despite his humor, Regulus was aware of this irony, too.

"Well, then," Alex countered, "I suppose I'll be the sidekick who watches your back in case of bar fights. Or jealous lovers."

Regulus rolled his eyes. "Regulus Arcturus Black, the next ninth Cygnus," he said. "Sounds like me, eh?" He sighed, his hand rummaging through his pocket. "That reminds me, I have to return something to that prat."

"What?"

"This," Regulus held out an ancient looking silver ring with a complicated pattern that Alex couldn't make out. They looked like runes. "Sirius "forgot" it, naturally, he's supposed to keep it with him at all time. It's the family ring." He stowed it away in his pockets again. "I swear, Sirius can do what he wants, but he could be more considerate when other people are concerned."

"Reg," Alex said cautiously. "What happened during winter break?"

Regulus sighed. "The usual," he muttered "Christmas dinner, another argument—to be honest, neither of them were talking in coherent sentences by that time. Rest of the break was just awkward. But I did spend a lot of time in the library," Regulus ended brightly. "Hence the book. Not bad, huh?"

Alex attempted to smile. "I guess," she said, taking the book from his seat. "Thanks."

Regulus shrugged. "Although I would be lying if I said that I hadn't been looking forward to school," he said. "Blimey, I'd take McGonagall's double period class any time now." He grinned at her and Alex smiled back, because she knew that Regulus wanted her to never mention his previous comments about winter break.

Although Regulus had lent her Fortresses and Defenses indefinitely, it was not until a week before Easter break that Alex found enough time to actually open the book. Hoping to find some excuse for putting off Flitwick's essay—earning an amused look from Regulus, whose facility with Charms caught even the tiny professor's attention—and other works that professors wished to get done before the break, she had decided to clean her trunk and school supplies before realizing that she had yet to open the book. It was that rainy Wednesday afternoon, therefore, that Alex had propped up her feet on the bed frame before opening the book cover.

The text itself was old, and—despite the Blacks' careful preservation of their library—rather faded. The pages were yellowed and thin, and the letters, all etched in ink, had become pale gray with age. Polaris Wymond's style of writing was, although by no means uninteresting, rather technical and extraneously elaborative at times that Alex found herself skipping a few pages every now and then to get through the book. Like Regulus had said, it was about various mansions and fortresses around Europe. What was surprising, however, was the depth and breadth of knowledge the authoress seemed to possess about each and every structure. She provided rough blueprints for every establishment with notes, side notes, and further side notes that were uncharacteristic of texts written that time. How she even had access to this kind of information, she couldn't figure out.

When she was not being technical, however, Polaris Wymond had the propensity to wander off in a hundred different directions. These parts were surprisingly much more revealing, as she dropped off hints and clues about her family history and sources of her knowledge. Alex transcribed several things in her notebook, hoping to check them in the library:

1. The Wymonds are not from England. P.W. specifically mentions having come from "the midland"—wherever that is. Check: midland

2. Foreign Elements, Azamat the Younger, circa 1470: useful for spells. Also implied friendship?

3. The legend of the four? Often quoted with fondness.

Because she didn't know much about any of them, she showed it to Regulus during Potions the next day as Slughorn, stressing the importance of the upcoming finals that were at least two months away, decided to assign them different potions and assess their characteristics, toxicity, thickness, density, weight, color, etc. Watching Regulus drop a few beetle legs which promptly dissolved, she said:

"Reg, do you know anything about the legend of the four?"

"Not toxic," Regulus muttered, scribbling down.

"Reg?"

"Regulus my dear ol'boy, any difficulties?" Slughorn's voice boomed from right behind them and Alex jumped in shock in her seat, promptly scribbling something unintelligible down on her notes. Slughorn seemed intent on Regulus alone, however, and Alex decided to take the matter off his hands so Regulus could concentrate on fending off Slughorn. She grabbed the vial and took a sniff.

"Basic ingredients: dragon liver and parsnip," she muttered. Regulus nodded and scribbled, simultaneously looking up to Slughorn's imploring eyes and smiling in a practiced manner. It resulted in crinkled eyes with an odd grin that seemed too wide to be natural.

"Not at all, Professor," he said. "Alex and I are doing very well by ourselves."

Slughorn nodded approvingly. "Your Potions essays are improving day by day, Regulus! Keep up the good work." He patted Regulus roughly on the shoulders before moving on to the next table, where Snape and Rebecca were both glaring into their desk.

"Look out for him, he's more attentive than he pretends to be," Regulus muttered.

"What does he even want from you?" Alex asked exasperatedly. "Nothing material, I hope."

"Probably another name that he wants to drop into the conversation," Regulus said. Alex made a disparaging noise and Regulus grinned into the vial, swirling it between his fingers.

"The legend of the four," Regulus continued. "I've heard it mentioned a couple of times, but it's a bit of an occult thing, really."

"Reg, we're talking about magic. Everything's occult."

"You're right, I suppose," Regulus frowned as he consulted the color chart and held it out for her to inspect. Unfortunately, the potion changed color in different angles and the lighting in the dungeons was not superb. "What I meant to say was that it's not a widely accepted legend. It's more like a cautionary fairy tale for people."

"Okay…?"

Regulus sighed. "It's one of the many legends that are traced back to the beginning of the wizards. They say that wizards came from all four directions—North, South, East, West. That's why they call it a legend of four points. They got along well for a while before they got into a fight, and they dispersed into the rest of the world," Regulus shrugged. "That's it."

"Well, I was reading Defense and Fortresses yesterday. By that woman from the sixteenth century. She just mentioned it a couple of times."

"It's nothing strange. It was fashionable at that time to quote from legends." Regulus gave her a pointed look. "Which you would have remembered if you had paid attention to Binns' class yesterday."

Alex felt her face flush. "I was paying attention. It's just a matter of memorization and application."

"Sure."

"It's quite obvious the potion's color is teal, I don't know why you would be confused about it."

"Teal. Of course."

"In any case—" Alex cleared her throat. "Do you know anything about Midland?"

"Midland?"

"The Midland?" Alex scratched her head, looking over her notes to see if she had missed anything. "She kept mentioning that she came from the Midland."

"It's another legend," Regulus said. "Historians are still fighting over it. Apparently all wizards once lived in once place and grew apart from there. The place of origin—that's Midland, or Middle Land. Most people think it's somewhere in Asia Minor, although others say it's closer to Central Asia or even China."

"You don't believe it's true?"

Regulus shrugged. "Wizards have been communicating with one another for ages, much longer than the Muggles have been, across the world." He sealed the vial with a stopper. "I think they make good bedtime stories, but I don't know how credible they are."

"Well, I'm going to ask Binns about it after class." It sounded strangely like a declaration.

Regulus gave her a strange look. "That'll be the first for Binns. I'll stay with you. Who knows—he might actually come alive for once."

After a fifty-five minute lecture on the series of Goblin rebellions that took place between 1830 to 1848, Alex was not ready for another fifty-five minute lecture on the legend of four points or, more accurately, on the value of factual evidence in history and the detrimental effects of legends and myths in a young pupil's mind. Somehow Regulus managed to wrangle themselves out of Binn's grasp during his account as a young man freshly encountering the lure of legends.

"They seem very glorious, talking about heroes in faraway places, but you must remember that human imagination has the propensity to create, recreate, and procreate—"

"Thanks, Professor Binns," Regulus said loudly. "But we have a detention in five minutes."

"Detention?" the ghostly professor cocked his head. "A student cannot miss his detention. Off you go, then." He shooed them with his transparent hands and Regulus and Alex made a beeline for the classroom exit.

"Oh, Mister Black?"

Regulus turned around, his face ashen with dread.

"An impressive job with your last essay. I must say, I see very few students these days who are interested in the actual history of magic." Binns gave Alex a pointed look and Alex decided it would be better to get out of the class. She heard Regulus say thanks as she closed the door.

"That," she said, "is not what I call alive."

"Yes, and we now have factual evidence to prove it," Regulus said, sounding rather appeased despite the recent torture.

"You're just pleased about Binns' comment on your essay," Alex said, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

Regulus quirked his brow. "Jealous?" he said.

Alex yawned. "Hardly. I know how many hours you spent on it." She stretched her arms.

"At least we got something," Regulus said encouragingly.

"Yes. A bloody recommended reading list." Alex rolled her eyes. "He even gave us a permission slip for going into the Restricted Section."

"It's actually quite ideal," Regulus said. "I've been hoping to get a look at the Restricted Section, but you know how...er… neurotic Pince is."

"Sure," Alex said, scoffing. For someone who seemed so straight and uptight, Regulus certainly had different ideas about how much rules applied to him. "I doubt Pince would even let you go into the section. She'll probably hand-pick the books herself and give them to us. If she does at all." But her lack of enthusiasm didn't seem to affect Regulus, whose step had a skip as they trod their way to lunch.

Madam Pince's answer was quite simple.

"No."

Alex looked back at the flat, stubborn eyes of Madam Pince. Next to her, Regulus shifted uneasily, but his voice was light.

"I beg your pardon, Madam," he said, "but we had express permission from Professor Binns—"

"Binns has been sending his students to the Restricted Section as long as I can remember, recommending them books about torture and secret police and rebellions—so no."

"But Madam Pince," Regulus resisted, "this is for research purposes only. We were hoping to write a paper on the legend of four points and other 'starting' myths for our final paper." Alex raised her eyebrow but directed her face to the ground so Pince couldn't see anything. There was no final paper and even if there was one Binns would never let his students work together. And hadn't Regulus dismissed the legend as nothing but a fairytale just few days ago?

"There are plenty of books about the myths in the library that you can get access to," Madam Pince said firmly. "If you want, I can get you the call numbers so you'll know where to start."

"That sounds great, Madam Pince," Alex said loudly. "Could you please write them down for us? I always forget these things." Next to her she could tell that Regulus was looking rather incredulously at her but Alex simply nudged his foot with hers firmly. Madam Pince grumbled but nevertheless gave her a piece of paper after a while and Alex thanked her before dragging Regulus out of the library.

Regulus looked at her. "I'm guessing you have a plan."

Alex rubbed her eyes tiredly. "First of all, I'm not sure why you're that keen on going to the Restricted Section."

Regulus's eyes lit up. "Lucius told me that there are books there about topics that we don't even discuss in class—about the nature of magic and what it means to be magical and—"

Alex didn't know whether to be relieved that Regulus wasn't interested in more gruesome things—which spanned from the secret catalogues that boys traded when they thought the girls weren't looking to the methods of torture that Madam Pince mentioned—or to be amused at Regulus's categorical enthusiasm for the subject. Either way, she felt more assured. "Pince isn't going to bend just because we try to reason with her. I've no specific desire to go in there, but if we are going to, then we'll have to find another way."

Regulus studied her expression. Slowly, a grin spread across face. "We'll sneak in, then," he said. "And here I was, thinking that this Easter holiday was going to be dull."