It was the first of October. Just a month ago he'd been on Platform 9... the train ride, the Sorting... he was glad he didn't have to do it again today.

Instead he made his way over to the Great Hall and sat down for breakfast. It was Sunday so there weren't a lot of people there, most preferred to have a lie-in on weekends, but Regulus thought that was dumb. Why would anyone spoil the weekend, the precious free time they had, with sleep?

He got himself some toast and jam and got out his Potions book. Avery had already sat down next to him and he found pretending to read to be a good deterrent at breakfast.

Evan sat down opposite him with that greasy boy, Mulciber on his other side. He had to admit it made him uncomfortable to be closed in by these people – he didn't exactly know them, after all, they had only spoken that one time in the library – but he was also secretly glad they didn't let Narcissa come between them forever.

Halfway through breakfast, some post arrived. Nothing for him—Mother and Father were useless. They got their letter ages ago and still hadn't pulled him out of school. But others did get post and he tried his best not to be too jealous of them. After all, what would he need post for? He was above such silly things, even if people had promised to send him things...

He'd be home for Christmas either way.

He just finished his toast when there was a horrible, pained shriek from the Ravenclaw table. There was only one girl sitting there, but he couldn't see what was happening through the sudden chaos that erupted. All six people from the Hufflepuff table gathered around the girl, blocking her from his view. There were a few from Gryffindor who were yelling, and it took him a moment to realise they were yelling at them, at Slytherin. Several Slytherins ran for the doors.

He glanced at the High Table, but the only teachers there were Manning (utterly useless, she sat in shock) and McGonagall, who hurried out of the Great Hall with the Ravenclaw.

It happened before he knew it. One moment everything was fine, the other—his brother and Evan lay on the hard stone floor, wrestling each other.

He looked around the table at Evan's friends, but they sat still. Really? He reluctantly got to his feet. "Sirius, stop this!"

But Sirius didn't stop. He didn't even look up. He had Evan pinned to the floor now, and he got out his wand. "You did this," he growled, "you'll pay for this, you all will!"

A small crowd began to gather around Evan and Sirius. One of them was Potter, who took a step forwards. "Don't do this, mate, he's not worth it."

An older girl glared at Potter. "They got Dorcas' family, you-"

"What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?!"

A tall wizard pushed through the crowd and spelled Sirius and Evan apart. Sirius' wand flew high in the air and fell down a few feet to his right, but before he could go and get it the wizard stood in front of him.

"What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?" Sirius retorted.

"I'm your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," he said, "and this is unacceptable."

"There's worse things than this, Professor."

The older girl nodded. "Dorcas' family got obliterated, and-"

"And you are schoolchildren, not Aurors," said the new Professor. "I do not accept this kind of behaviour, inside my classroom or out. 50 points from Gryffindor for your reckless accusations, Mr Black, and a week's worth of detention."

Sirius groaned but the teacher paid no attention to it. "Scat, go on,scat! To your Common Rooms."

Regulus obediently followed the other Slytherins to the Common Room, where he found Narcissa waiting for him. She pulled him aside the moment he stepped through the hole.

"Are you OK?"

"Of course I am-"

"Slughorn told us to stay in here, you weren't here, forgive me for being worried about my own cousin," she said, squinting her eyes. "Besides, you don't look OK. You're shaking."

"I'm fine!" He tried to get sway from her but she grasped his arm tightly.

"I'm just trying to help," she said. "Please let me help."

He shook his head. She wasn't there. She wouldn't know what happened. He had to talk to Evan.

She sighed and let go of his arm. "I don't get you, Regulus. I really don't."

He spotted Evan by the fireplace, alone.

"What happened?" he asked as he sat down in the chair opposite him.

Evan shrugged. "Can't really tell you, not here. But your brother's gone mental."

"Tell me about it," he agreed, "he's been like this all month."

They weren't allowed out of the Common Room until the following morning for breakfast. Narcissa pulled him along and forced him to sit with her and about halfway through breakfast, post arrived.

The girl sitting opposite him, a seventh-year, got a copy of the Daily Prophet. She ignored the front page and skipped through it until she found what she was looking for. "Ah, would you look at that, the Chudley Cannons changed their motto!"

"About time, don't you think?" another girl asked.

"It's 'Let's all just keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best' now, very fitting."

There was a bout of laughter and he rolled his eyes. He didn't keep up with sports. Playing them was fun, but he never understood people who sat and watched others sweat. What was enjoyable about that?

She folded back the newspaper and put it down after she finished the sports section and Regulus caught s glimpse of the front page. His heart skipped a beat, for he recognised that symbol—the skull, the snake...

"W-what-"

The girl saw what he was looking at and shook her head. "Don't worry about that. It's silly, really."

But he wasn't convinced. Still, she put the paper away, and he knew none of these people would answer his questions, so he finished his breakfast in silence.

The first lesson of the day was Transfiguration and he sat down in the front as always. He expected nothing of this class by now, so it was a surprise to see something written on the blackboard (even if it was unintelligible) and to see Manning holding some paper that appeared to have instructions on them.

"Do you think she was told she had to teach to be a teacher?" Avery, next to him, wondered.

"Welcome, students," Manning started with far more confidence than she had until now. "I will be handing out m-matches to you all, and I want you to try and turn them into- into needles, please..."

Avery nudged him. "Time to show what you've got, Black. I reckon you've never done this before."

"Of course I have," he sneered, although his insides were turning. He hadn't. Because he was eleven and only just starting out in Hogwarts... and you weren't supposed to do magic before.

Or was that some silly thing his parents invented?

Avery just laughed again as the teacher handed out what she had called 'matches'—little wooden sticks with a red-ish tip.

He and Avery got their matches last, and Manning walked back to her desk. Avery's hand shot up but he started talking before she could even allow him to speak his mind. "Miss, can you show us?"

"S-show you?"

"You don't expect us to just transfigure something without demonstrating how it's done, do you? We're first-years."

"Right. Yes, of course..." Manning had her wand out. She pointed it at the match she held in her other hand, muttered a spell, and... the match remained a match, if a slightly pointy one.

Laughter.

"I swear I can do this! I- I can fix this," she said, pointing her wand at the match again, but it didn't change. "Let me start over!"

But the second matchstick she tried to transfigure only seemed become more match-like. And of course, this was met with even more roars of laughter. Regulus laughed along, but his nerves multiplied. If she couldn't do it, and she was supposed to be their teacher...

"Let me help you out there, Miss," Avery said calmly, his laugh disappearing in an instant.

He approached the teacher, his wand in his hand, and effortlessly transfigured the matches on her desk into perfectly pointy silver needles.

"Impossible," Manning breathed. "That's impossible..."

Regulus stomach turned as Avery looked him in the eye. "It's nothing, really," he said. "Black can do it, too."

And just like that, all eyes were on him. He could feel their eyes burning through his skin, begging him to demonstrate this skill he clearly didn't possess. Why had he lied? Why?!

"Show them, Regulus," said Avery, a big smirk on his face.

Avery knew. Of course he knew. He knew everything.

He looked to Professor Manning, who smiled at him in a way he was sure was supposed to be either sympathetic or encouraging, but it mainly looked like she was on the verge of tears.

He cleared his throat, pointed his wand at the tiny piece of wood in front of him, muttered the incantation—and the piece of wood remained a piece of wood.

Nothing happened.

He felt the heat rising to his cheeks as he looked up again. The students mostly seemed disappointed, Manning still looked as if she was about to cry, and Avery let out a sour laugh. "Looks like someone was lying."

Regulus didn't even bother trying to argue that. It was the truth, and the truth was hard to argue with.

Damn that Avery.

Later that day, at lunch, Regulus sat with the seventh-years again. He didn't mind this time—he hoped they'd pull out their newspapers again so he could see what that mark was all about.

But they did no such thing.

After lunch, he had Charms. They usually had it on the first floor, but Peeves had wrecked the classroom in such a way it was impossible to teach in for at least a week, so he left early to find the new classroom on the third floor.

Getting to the third floor itself wasn't too hard. He just had to go up three staircases and there he was, simple as that. The problem was where on the third floor he had to be.

He stood there, looking between the different corridors for a good minute or so when someone pulled his sleeve. "Charms is this way!"

He stared at the girl in surprise.

"What? Come on, we're going to be late," she said, pulling his arm once more.

Still surprised, he followed her. "Why are you-"

"You seemed lost. You were lost, weren't you?"

"Well, yeah-"

"So I helped. This way."

She came to a halt in front of Classroom 2E, but didn't open the door. "You know, you can sit with us if you want. Avery's bad news, everyone knows that."

"Why would I sit with you? I don't even know you."

She rolled her eyes. "That's it, you're sitting with us, come on."

She opened the door and shoved him in. The teacher, who was mid-sentence as they walked in, looked at them both, shook his head, and said: "quickly, find your seats. Names?"

"Black," he said. "Regulus Black."

"Catharina Peasegood."

The teacher hummed. "Take your seats, we're on page 70."

Despite his silent protests about sitting at the front, Catharina Peasegood pulled him over to the last row of desks.

Peasegood... he'd have to check with Narcissa later, see what she thought of this strange girl who had gone after him. She had more knowledge of this sort of thing.

"Psst, Reginald," a boy to Peasegood's right hissed at him. "I'm Arnold."

"It's Regulus," he corrected.

"Nice to meet you, Regulus!"

"Quiet reading means quiet reading, and that includes the back row," Professor Briseis interrupted, and the rest of the lesson was spent in silence.

This was exactly what made Charms one of the worst classes in school.

Evening arrived, and with it, his third attempt to get a look at the Prophet. He didn't sit with the seventh-years this time—Catharina and Arnold Peasegood (who turned out to be twins) had insisted on him sitting with them. Narcissa hadn't objected. Apparently the pair had a much older brother who was close friends with Lucius.

Regulus just hoped one of them got the Prophet.

Which they didn't. Such was his luck.

He was about to give up and go to the Common Room, maybe work on some homework before bed, when a boy a few seats over pulled a copy out of his bag. He leaned over the table and pocket it from his still outstretched hand—he nearly tripped over his own two feet as he made a run for the doors, the boy yelling at him to give it back.

He ducked around the corner and hid in the broomcloset. There was a commotion in the Great Hall, with some yelling things through the Entrance Hall, but nobody seemed to check the closet. He was safe here with his stolen goods—the Daily Prophet.

Pulse beating in his ears, blocking out all of the other sounds, he unfolded it and stared at the front page.

There was a picture of that mark on Bellatrix's arm, except it was in the sky, just as it had been last summer where it shone so vividly in green above that Muggle house. But unlike then, the house it hung over in the picture was all but destroyed.

And unlike last summer, he knew what had happened.

Meadowes Family Deaths: He Who Must Not Be Named strikes again

In yet another chilling show of power, You-Know-Who has claimed the lives of an innocent pure-blood family—the second in as many weeks. The Meadowes family, which included some of the leading pro-Squib rights protestors of the riots just a few years ago, became the latest victims in a series of brutal attacks that have sent shockwaves throughout the Wizarding World.

Tragically, the young Dorcas Meadowes was safe at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when vigilant neighbours reported the finding of the Dark Mark not just over her parents' house, but also over that of her aunts, uncles, grandparents; it appears she is the sole survivor.

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has been contacted for a statement. In the meantime, the wizarding community must remain vigilant: observing the following simple security guidelines will help protect you, your family, and your home from attack.

Never Leave The House Alone.

Particular care should be taken during the hours of darkness, as Death Eaters prefer to work in the shadows of the night. Wherever possible, arrange to complete your journeys before nightfall.

Secure Your Home.

We must reiterate that you cannot rely on the goodwill of others any longer. Review the security arrangements around your house. Make sure that all family members are aware of emergency measures such as Shield and Disillusionment Charms, and, in the case of underage family members, Side-Along Apparition.

Do Not Trust Anyone.

Agree on security questions with close friends and family. Should you feel that a family member, colleague, friend, or neighbour is acting unlike themselves, contact the Magical Law Enforcement Squad at once. They may be Death Eaters masquerading as others by use of the Polyjuice Potion (more on page 2), or have been put under the Imperius Curse (see page 4).

Should the Dark Mark appear over any dwelling place or other building, DO NOT ENTER, but contact the Auror office immediately.

The words danced across the page as he read it again, not believing his own eyes—a pureblood family, wiped out?

He whimpered; his legs collapsing underneath him as he sank to the floor in the small broomcloset. What had he just read? He brought his knees up to his chest and sat there for what felt like hours. A pureblood family—dead. Two pureblood families, he corrected himself. Two. Dead. Gone.

"I know you're in here." Narcissa's soft voice came from the other side of the door.

A feeling of dread crept up from the pit of his stomach. Were they next? He closed his eyes and felt his body trembling, there was nothing he could do to stop it. He wanted to yell at Cissy to go away, to leave him – he was sure she'd think him an even bigger baby after seeing him in this state – but no sound came out of his mouth.

He sat there for a few more moments, shaking on the floor of the broomcloset, hoping that somehow he'd be home when he opened his eyes again, that his Mother would be there, that he could curl up in her lap and everything would be OK again. She'd softly stroke his hair, whisper kind words, tell him it was all a bad dream...

There were two hands on his shoulders, pulling him close. He clung to her, trying his best to stifle his sobs as she held him and she stroked his hair and she murmured something in his ear. She hushed him, gently rocked him until he remembered where he was and pulled away. "I'm sorry," he whispered, embarrassed he let himself cry like that. He wasn't a baby. He was too old to be acting this way.

"It's all right."

But he knew it wasn't. He was a Black, and these things were never all right.

He lay in bed later that evening. Narcissa had taken the newspaper from him, told him once more that he was 'too young'.

Had there been children involved, in those murders? Two entire families wiped out. Well, almost wiped out—Dorcas Meadowes was still alive. Perhaps the other family had survivors, too... but did that even matter? Young people such as himself were involved already, despite Narcissa calling him too young. No, Evan had been right, there was no such thing as being too young when it came to this.

So the following morning, when everyone else was at breakfast, he wrote a letter to Bella. Because Bellatrix didn't pretend he was too young to know these thing, Bellatrix understood he had a right to know. A need to know. Bella would help him out.

The letter was short, but he couldn't think of anything else to add. He couldn't bring himself to be more clear, to actually put it to words... and he couldn't shake the feeling that she'd be disappointed in him for feeling so strongly about these murders. He knew she had killed before, and yet... that was an entirely different kind of situation, wasn't it? Of course it was.

Bella,

We need to talk. Can we talk? Something happened.

Love,

Regulus

Breakfast was almost to an end when he left the Common Room. He'd have to hurry if he didn't want to be late. He deliberately left his schoolbag in his dorm in case he was late—an excuse to be out of class.

He passed hordes of students on their way to class as he sprinted up the stairs to the Owlery (why did it have to be so far up?) and on the way back it was eerily quiet. The halls were empty, the stairs were empty.

He went down another flight, nearly fell off them when there was a cold breeze behind him, and immediately felt something cold covering his nose.

"Argh!"

"Wheeeeeeeeeeee!"

"ARGH!"

He stumbled back, managed to grab the railing to stop himself from tumbling down, and when he looked up again he was facing a little man wearing a bright orange party hat and bow tie.

Peeves. Of course, he thought as he steadied himself, trying to get past the poltergeist. He didn't have the patience for this, not now.

Peeves bounced around him, keeping him from getting past. "Ha ha!" he cackled. "Why it's an ickle firstie late for class!"

"I'm not late, I'm not going," Regulus said. "Just let me-"

"Naughty firstie, naughty, naughty! Haaaaaa! Should tell Filch, I should," he said, his eyes glittering wickedly.

"No! No, don't! I'll go to class. It's just down there, if you'll-"

"Oh FILCHIE! STUDENT OUT OF CLASS!"

Regulus froze, then ran back up the steps and ducked around the corner into the corridor. Classrooms everywhere—argh! The last thing he wanted was detention. He was the model student, after all. He wasn't skipping school because he thought it would be fun, just because it was necessary. Therefore, he did not deserve detention!

He skidded to a halt when he passed a classroom that was seemingly empty, the door half open. This was his chance.

He shut the door behind him and caught his breath, praying he was safe from Filch. When he turned around, he let out another involuntary scream—he stood eye-to-eye with the plump lives-with-Muggles boy from his brother's compartment on the train.

His brother and Potter sat on the teacher's desk to his left. "Hiya," Potter said cheerfully, "miss your brother? Minching off to hang with us?"

"No. And Filch is after me, I'll tell him you're here," he said, hoping he sounded tougher than he felt.

"You're pathetic," said Sirius.

"Am not!"

"You wouldn't go to Filch anyway. You're you're from him, same as us. So now you're here... Peter?"

Peter grabbed hold of him in an instant, with strength that was almost inhuman. He struggled against his grip, trying to wrestle himself free. "Get off me! Get your filthy hands off me!"

"Oi! I've washed-!"

"Get off, get off please," he continued, ignoring his protests as he tried to wrestle his filthy hands off his perfectly clean robes. His heart was pounding in his ears and tears welled up in his eyes. He couldn't let everything be ruined now. What would this Peter boy do to him?

"Sirius! Sirius help!" he bawled, "please! Please help... control your feral Mudbl-"

His head collided with the door, sending waves of pain through his body. He whimpered. "Please get the Mudblood off me..." he begged, trying to make eye contact with his brother through his tears.

"I'd love to," said Sirius slowly, "but I don't see any 'feral Mudbloods' here..."

"Just let me go! Let me go or I'll... or I'll tell!"

"Nah you won't. No-one likes a tout," Peter said, still pinning him against the door.

Potter laughed. "Filch will have you in for it as well if you do."

"I'll tell Mother."

Potter laughed but Sirius nudged him to shut up. "All right, all right—on one condition: if you tell, I'll tell."

"Tell? What would you have to tell?"

"You're supposed to be in class," Sirius said, jumping off the desk.

"As are you."

"I could tell Mother you're neglecting your studies.

"I could tell her you're neglecting yours. Which of us would she believe, you think?"

"You wouldn't."

"And I could tell Mother you jumped Evan earlier, unless you get this off me."

"You wouldn't."

"I would. Not to mention she wouldn't like your Mudblood attacking me, now would she?"

"Peter, just—let him go."

Ah, freedom.

He straightened his robes, wiping the invisible dirt stains off with his hands. He'd have to wash those later. Even better, if he had to wash his hands he could just as easily take a shower and change into a clean uniform. He was late for class either way.

"This is why you don't have any friends," Sirius sighed before he could leave the classroom.

"I don't need friends."

"Keep telling yourself that and you may just believe it."

Later that day, he did add to his letter to Mother:

I believe he is friends with Mudbloods. At least one of them attacked me. He also caused a scene by jumping Evan Rosier and I don't think he's taking Hogwarts seriously.

There. It was for his own good.