May came to an end more quickly than he had anticipated and June brought with it the end of year exams he had been studying for since before Easter. Yet it felt an impossible task, especially with the rift between him and his brother widening with every day they did not speak, and they had not spoken since that incident with the duel.

It was all he could think about these days, and it was the last thing that was useful to be on his mind as he tried to work his way through the dreadful History of Magic exam. He just couldn't help that History of Magic was exceptionally suitable for such lamentations. How was he supposed to know when those Goblin rebellions took place? He hadn't paid attention in class, he hadn't even managed to stay awake for long enough to read the textbook!

Sirius wasn't the only one he wasn't speaking to. Narcissa remained busier than ever with her NEWTs and it was rare to see her anywhere but the library or Common Room, bent over a textbook or two, copying down notes and muttering incantations under her breath. She had no time to help him. He was on his own—the Peasegoods, too, were too busy for him and even Avery appeared stressed about the exams, and all he had to say when Regulus cornered him was that he had to study so he wouldn't be expelled. He didn't even comment when Regulus admitted he couldn't get his pineapple to tapdance in his Charms practical. He didn't even tease him when his snuffbox still had whiskers and a tail. Avery was absorbed in his studies.

It made Hogwarts extremely lonely. Of course, he could have done the same, and spent countless hours bent over books, but he spent his time figuring out how to use Bella's cheating gifts—he might've failed History of Magic and done poorly on Charms and Transfiguration but he wasn't going to fail his other exams. He wasn't about to get expelled as Avery said would happen. He'd make sure of that.

He wore his Detachable Cribbing Cuffs to Potions and they helped tell him when to put in which ingredient, helping him brew the best Cure for Boils of the class (as far as he could tell). He wore them to Herbology and watered his water-repellant plants with ease as they let him know just how to comfort them and where to pour the water.

He used the Auto-Answering Quill for Astronomy, and used Self-Correcting Ink for it as an extra precaution, when he had to carefully map out the different moon phases and the planetary alignments. He hated how difficult he found this test in particular—it was his favourite class, and not just because they were allowed out of bed late. No, looking back, it had been his favourite since he had got his hands on that first year textbook nearly two years ago now. He remembered it fondly; his life had been perfect, but back then he hadn't realised it. He had been so stupid, so preoccupied with his brother leaving for Hogwarts that he hadn't even appreciated what he had. Now all of it was gone.

Their last exam was a practical for Defence Against the Dark Arts. Professor Blackthorn had them all line up outside the classroom, waiting patiently for their turn. Screaming could be heard coming from inside the classroom and all of the students who came before Regulus came out running; even Avery couldn't keep it in and ran across the hall with tears in his eyes.

All in all it was the perfect recipe to have a bunch of First Years bathing in sweat before the exam had even begun. Not that he had come unprepared – he wore his Cuffs – but it was still a moment of great anxiety. What on earth was happening in there?

When Regulus was called into the classroom, he noticed nothing out of the ordinary. The iron chandelier swung back and forth, but surely that was because of the wind blowing in through the—

There was no open window. In fact, the windows were all covered with a bright green, long curtain and the skeleton of a dragon could be seen standing in front of it. It was huge, and Regulus had to admit he was glad it was a skeleton, and not a real-life living dragon, though that could've explained the screaming, and Professor Blackthorn used to work with them so it wouldn't be too strange of a possibility. Would they have to kill one?

"Ah, Mr. Black," the teacher said as he appeared from beneath his desk (what had he been doing there?) and smiled warmly at him. "How did your other exams go?"

"Er... all right, I think."

"Splendid! Then this will come easy to you!"

His eyes widened and he took a few steps backwards but before he could brace himself for whatever was about to happen, Professor Blackthorn had his wand in hand, pointed it to Regulus, and cast some sort of spell that sent him toppling over and flying against the wall.

He let out a shrill shriek in surprise and he tried to get back to his feet, grubbling around in his robes to find his wand – oh, where had he put it!? – but he was sent flying across the room once more and he couldn't do anything but scream and shout for help.

"Fight back," Professor Blackthorn called out, "show me what you've learnt!"

He wanted to scream at him that they hadn't learnt anything because he hadn't taught anything but the force with which he repeatedly hit the wall was too much for him to even find the words to argue with his teacher.

It seemed to last forever, then:

"Scat! Go on,scat! Get out of here!"

And just as all the students who came before him, he did what he was told and ran out of the classroom, through the corridors, down the stairs, and out into the school grounds. As the summer air hit him, he finally calmed down, slowed his pace, and rested against a towering tree.

He expected the pain to set in – because surely being bounced around a classroom had to be painful, right? – but none came. Confused, but not disappointed, he spent some time thinking about how his exam had gone. What had Professor Blackthorn expected him to do? How could he have fought back?!

What kind of teacher set an exam like this? He'd surely be complaining to Mother and Father about this, and he was sure he wouldn't be alone in that. Blackthorn's days of being a teacher would soon be over.

It wasn't until the following morning at breakfast that he realised he was free. Actually free. He hadn't been free since that first weekend he had spent here in September! But now there was no homework, no classes to worry about, no timetable, nothing. He could do whatever he wanted for an entire week.

He stayed up in the Astronomy Tower all Saturday and Sunday morning, enjoying the quiet it brought and looking over the Hogwarts school grounds as if he were on lookout for bad forces. Sunday afternoon the Peasegoods hauled him outside, and they swam in the lake which was pleasant in temperature now that summer was nearly there.

Monday he had a lie-in and had his late breakfast with the Peasegoods before going outside once more, because despite the rain it was a pleasant day and he couldn't come up with a decent excuse to go back to the Astronomy Tower on his own.

There he met Avery.

"How'd you do?" Regulus asked as Avery came up to him and leaned against the tree. He tried to sound nonchalant, as if he didn't care Avery was there after a year of being teased by the boy. He had, after all, been mostly quiet since the fire.

"I did brilliantly, of course," Avery said, "as I expect you to have done. After all, someone from such an ancient and noble family is just bound to come out on top, isn't that right?"

"Er-" he glanced at the Peasegoods, but they had already run off to play with the Giant Squid.

"My brother says your brother doesn't even study and still gets top marks—talk about good blood! Perhaps I misjudged you, Black."

Regulus couldn't tell if he was serious or not. It became apparent, though, when Avery laughed that horrible laugh of his and pointed at Regulus. "Your face! Ha! You should've seen your face! You know what, Black, I hope they expel you for your grades. It would serve your family right."

With that, Avery turned on his heel and left, still laughing like a maniac.

Who's the crazy one here, exactly? thought Regulus as he slowly approached the lake. He tried to put Avery out of his mind and tickled the squid's tentacles as a distraction—it did not work.

Could he really be expelled?

Tuesday and Wednesday he wasn't in the mood for anything. Since NEWTs were still in progress, Narcissa was unavailable to him and Sirius still shunned him so he had no-one older to ask about his grades, no-one older who could tell him what would happen if he didn't pass, no-one who knew if he would actually be expelled or if it was a dumb thing Avery made up on the spot to get a reaction out of him.

On Thursday his nerves were through the roof – they were to get their results on Friday – and he hid away in an unused classroom on the fourth floor, going over everything he had done wrong on his exams that he should've done better. He could've cheated more. He could've studied harder. Perhaps the cheating gear wasn't as good as promised, or teachers had noticed... so many scenarios were flying through his mind he barely noticed the door opening and some students filling in the classroom. He could only hear their voices – he sat behind the teacher's desk, on the floor, hidden from view for the students and the students hidden from view for him – but they interrupted his thought process when they dropped a word that got their attention. Two words, really: Death Eater.

"... Death Eater activity is up but-"

"- don't! We have time, we-"

"- time?! Time?!"

"Yes, time. They aren't planning another attack until August."

"And you know that... how, exactly?"

"My mother told me. I told him. He's telling the truth." Was that... Evan?

"Well your mother is lying."

"She is not lying," Evan said decidedly.

"She is! My father said they're attacking tomorrow."

"Well then your father is the liar here!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Is not-"

"STOP!" bellowed someone who hadn't spoken until then. "We have to stay quiet, who knows what kind of people may walk by."

A collective sigh seemed to follow and they lowered their voices so that he couldn't hear most of what they were saying. He caught words as "London" and "attack" but nothing of use. It didn't sit right with him, though, so when he was sure all of the students had left the classroom again he rushed down to his dorm to write Bellatrix a letter.

Dear Bella, he wrote.

Some of the other students here are talking of a war, of attacks that are planned by Death Eaters. Do you know more about this?

It was a rather simple letter, but he hoped it would be enough and that Bella would tell him what was going on. She was his only hope.

He signed it and posted it and an hour later, at supper, he already received his reply.

Dear Regulus,

Please pay no attention to the silly rumours your classmates are spreading. None of what is going on affects you in any way. You're safe. We'll talk more over summer.

Let me know how your exams went. I'm rooting for you.

x Bella

It turned out that he was not expelled. He hadn't the best marks, but all in all, it was acceptable.

On Saturday he woke up to find his trunk packed and his wardrobe empty (the house elves must've been working overnight, he figured) and they were all given a note warning them not to use magic over the holidays before they all boarded the boats again and left Hogwarts in the same manner as they had arrived, with all the First Years huddled together.

He shared his boat with the Peasegoods and some Ravenclaw who couldn't find anywhere else to sit, and he thought to himself that Hogwarts wasn't half as bad as he had imagined it to be the first time he sat in these boats with that half-breed.

He bade the Peasegoods goodbye at the platform and sat in a compartment all by himself, his packed trunk below his seat. He sat there for about five minutes and the train had just left the platform when the door slid open and he was greeted with a soft "Hi Reg".

He looked up at his brother, who stood in the doorway, and gestured at the empty seat across him.

"How come you're not with your friends?" Regulus asked as Sirius sat down. He couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Wanted to see how my little brother was doing, is all."

He sighed. "What's the real reason? You've been avoiding me for ages."

"I know. I know. But you haven't exactly made it easy for me, you know."

"I didn't do anything wrong," he said, crossing his arms and looking away. He wasn't going to argue. Not now.

"The letter," Sirius started, and Regulus jumped to his feet in defence.

"You dropped it. I wasn't sneaking."

"It doesn't matter how you got it! What matters is that you told! We're supposed to be brothers, Reg! We're supposed to be there for each other!"

He huffed. "Well-"

"They somehow tracked her down," Sirius continued, ignoring him. "Andy—oh come on, she's not the devil! Anyway, she told me they came for her. Ted and Dora – her husband and daughter – they were out, thank God, but they tortured her, Reg. To know where I was. They tortured her and you did that! YOU!"

He studied his brother. His eyes were puffy and red and there were tears glistening beneath the surface. He was holding back, his lips pursed firmly together. He sat slumped in his seat, shoulders hunched forward and he was clutching something in his left fist, likely a letter from her.

He had to bite back the words he wanted to say. He wanted to scream at his brother and tell him it wasn't true, that Andromeda had made it all up to get him on their side, to tear apart the family even more than she already had... but it wouldn't work. Sirius would never believe him, and certainly not now. Not when he already figured him a traitor who'd gone to Filch over a duel he himself had initiated, silly as that conclusion may be.

So he didn't speak. He sat opposite his brother in silence and stared out of the window, watching the raindrops clatter against the window as the countryside behind it grew English and they came nearer and nearer to London.

The train pulled up on Platform 9 before long and he pulled his trunk out from under his seat before it fully came to a standstill. Moments later, he left the compartement and jumped off the train, not even waiting for Sirius to do the same. It wasn't that he was angry, per se, but he wasn't happy with the constant stream of accusations based on absolutely nothing at all and didn't want to have to deal with that right now as well. He had enough on his mind—Bellatrix and her promise to tell him more this summer were much more important than Sirius' silly problems.

He dragged his trunk behind him and scanned the masses in search of his parents. He found them in the far back and hurried towards them. The Platform never ceased to make him feel uncomfortable, hunted in a way. As if there were predators lurking just around the corner hidden from sight.

He came to a halt next to Father, who immediately took hold of both his arm and his trunk. Before he could ask what was going on he felt the familiar nauseating sensation of Apparition and they landed in the hallway back at home. Then, a few feet in front of him, Mother and Sirius appeared, trunk and all.

He glanced back up at Father but didn't get the chance to ask him what it was all about.

"Go up to your rooms, the both of you. And stay there," Father said, pointing upwards for added emphasis. "Now."

It was best not to argue, he figured. Father wouldn't come up with ut on the spot. There had to be a reason. Perhaps they were in danger as they had been two years ago, or Sirius had brought them trouble as he had last year. No matter the reason, it would be safer to follow his instructions.

So he obliged and went up the stairs without looking back. Footsteps following him told him Sirius had silently followed but they never even looked at one another before they reached the topmost landing.

"Now what?" Regulus said, breaking the silence for the first time since that morning. They stood between the two bedrooms and he didn't feel much for going into his own.

Sirius didn't answer.

"Sirius?" He took a step closer to his brother, but Sirius moved away.

"You heard Father," said Sirius. He turned towards his own bedroom.

"No, please…"

"What?" he snapped. "You want to talk now?! Now of all times? Because, what, you're lonely or something? I'm not here for your entertainment, Reg."

He opened his mouth to say something but no sound came out. He wasn't all that sure what he wanted to say either, but it didn't matter; Sirius entered his bedroom and slammed the door shut after him, leaving Regulus alone on the landing.

He entered his own bedroom, for it was useless to try and go after his brother now. It would only cause more problems. He lay down on his bed, wondering if he had done something wrong, or said something wrong, to give Sirius the impression he only cared about his brother's entertainment value. If anything it was Sirius who didn't care about him when his friends were about, so if anything Sirius was the one who cared about entertainment; not him! How dared he suggest it was opposite.

So he just lay there on his bed, waiting for Mother and Father to tell him it's all right to come downstairs, but such a moment never came. He drifted off into an uneasy sleep and it wasn't until the following morning that they were both called down by Kreacher.

As he reached the ground floor that morning, he found Sirius waiting in front of the closed door to the dining room.

"In there?" he asked.

Sirius nodded.

"Then why aren't you-"

"Shhh!"

But whatever he was to be silent for, it did not matter; the door opened and Mother (who sat at the table, staring at them as she put away her wand) beckoned for them to come in.

He stepped inside, Sirius in tow, and walked up to Mother, expecting her to do or say something. He was already trying to come up with an excuse or apology—anything that could help soften the blow. But that was awfully hard to do when he had no idea what this would be about and only a few seconds to come up with a story.

However, Mother neither said nor did anything as they reached her. She only gestured to the food on the table. He glanced sideways to Sirius but decided to comply and sat down. He helped himself to some buns and tried his best not to think of Mother's odd behaviour—whatever it was that made her so awfully silent, he didn't like it. It made her different, somehow worse than ever for it made him feel uneasy in her presence in a way he hadn't felt before. Had she spoken at all since they returned? He couldn't remember. He hastened through his breakfast, for the longer he was there the more unnerving Mother became—she followed his and Sirius' every movement with her eyes but stayed perfectly still otherwise. It made his insides scream at him to get out, now.

He stuffed the last bits of his bun in his mouth and stood up just as the doors flew open and Father strode in. "That's it, upstairs with you two," he said, walking over to the table and pulling Sirius from his seat when he didn't stand up.

"But I've not finished eating!" Sirius protested, to which Father handed him a few sandwiches from the table and gave him a little shove.

"Upstairs. Now."

Regulus didn't have to be told again, as it gave him a good reason to get away from Mother, and practically ran to the hallway and up the steps to the first floor. He slowed down halfway there and took a few seconds to calm down before he moved on to the second staircase.

He didn't get the chance to go any farther, though, since Sirius yanked on his arm, pulling him away and into the drawing room.

"Oi!" he called out, rubbing his arm. It was quite painful to suddenly be torn away and into another room, and Sirius was growing strong very fast. It just wasn't fair he was the youngest.

"Oh, shut up," whispered Sirius. "Don't be such a baby."

"I'm not-!"

Sirius clasped a hand over his mouth. "And lower your voice! We're not supposed to be here," he hissed.

He pulled away from his brother's hand. "Fine," he said in a low voice, "so we're sneaking. Why?"

Sirius didn't answer but started to pace up and down the drawing room. Couldn't they have done this upstairs? Plenty of space to pace there!

"I don't know about you, but they're acting very… oddly," said Sirius finally. "I don't like this."

"They're just... busy, or something."

"I don't think this is just 'being busy'. There's something else going on."

"But what?"

"That's what we've to find out."

"But we're supposed to go to upstairs," he said. "We shouldn't be here, you said it yourself, they'll know, they'll-"

"Shh!"

Sirius started rummaging around in cupboards, looking beneath sofas and chairs, grubbling in the desk's drawers… All the while, Regulus just stood there.

"What are you looking for?"

No answer. Sirius was now combing through a large stack of files of one thing or another, but with every second he stood there he grew more nervous. They'd get caught, he was sure of it. Sirius was making a mess and he wasn't very quiet about it.

"Sirius?" he tried again.

Still no answer. More stacks of paper flying through the room, bookcases overturned… There seemed to be no end to Sirius' search.

He was about to tell him that whatever it was he was doing, he wanted no part in it when Sirius called out: "Got it!"

He moved away from the door to get a better look of what 'it' was. Sirius held up a scroll of parchment but his face fell only seconds before the parchment flew out of his hands.

"When I said 'go upstairs', I meant to your bedrooms."

His heart sank as he turned to face Father, who stood in the doorway and tucked away his wand and the parchment. "Come," he said, beckoning for them both. "Time to go to bed."

"It's not even noon yet," Sirius complained.

"You don't have to sleep. Work on summer work or something. Come."

There was no point in arguing now, so he went upstairs with Father. Sirius, too, followed without further complaints.

Once upstairs Father had Sirius enter his room first, after which he magically locked the door, and then it was his turn. Defeated, he sat down on his bed and watched the door close. He eyed his wand on his bedside table but it wouldn't be any use, he could tell. Father wouldn't be dumb enough to use a simple Locking Charm—he knew Alohomora was on the First Year curriculum. It would be something stronger. It had to be.

So instead of trying to escape, he resigned to his new confined space, hoping against all hope that being locked in wouldn't become summertime tradition.