He was late again tonight. Not on purpose, of course. He did have a grueling quidditch training in the afternoon that ran late, as per usual. But Regulus wouldn't mind taking the long route to the dungeon, if only to calm his nerves before the first potion study session after a while.
Crouch welcomed him in their usual room with silence, her eyes sharp as a hawk's as they observed his every move. Regulus prevailed, his motion smooth and precise as he took the seat across from her. It was she who approached him to talk about their study session a couple days ago, so he knew he had some control over their arrangement. No matter how much Crouch was affecting him.
When he was finally settled, meeting the pair of eyes that always struck him silent, the air of disapproval that surrounded the girl thickened.
"Do you have anything to say?" Crouch demanded, arms crossed. "Anything at all?"
She was still put out.
Good.
Regulus nodded, "thank you for the inspiration."
Crouch flushed.
"That's not what I -! You know what? Never mind. I see that you don't feel any remorse for what you did. Four hours of being trapped as giant birds could have traumatized them, you know. I didn't share with you that potion for you to alter it in such a dangerous manner. They could have – "
She went on, talking about the hundreds of ways the potion could have gone wrong. Regulus had always known that Crouch could talk this much, of course. She could spend hours explaining obscure magical theories, potions, and even history. But he never caught her talking like this.
"- and there could have been a complication from the bones transfiguration! Birds' bones are hollow. They are not supposed to be supporting as much mass as a giant bird! That is why the original potion is only made to last for an instant. What if they broke all their bones during the transfiguration, huh? - "
He liked this, he decided. Regulus was familiar with anger. He could work with this anger easier than he could have worked with her acceptance of his reminder for those favors. Regulus would have drowned in guilt if things stayed the way they were. His guilt was the reason why he canceled many of their potion study sessions before - until last week when it was Crouch who canceled it. Because of the prank.
Yes, Regulus liked this more.
Not to mention,
" – if James Potter flew away? He could have fell when he was airborne! And don't say that would be his own fault! He had a bird brain at that moment, of course he wouldn't be thinking straight! - "
Her cheeks were really red. Crouch's cheeks always had that tint of blush on her, but seeing her angry was really something else.
Regulus listened to all of her words attentively, silently noting how her curls seemed to puff, some ends twirled out of her braid. Crouch's appearance was always immaculate and polished, as expected from a girl of her pedigree, so seeing her like this was incredibly rare. She was a curious thing - how could something that messy look like perfection?
" - and irresponsible! Did you at least test the potion before you use it?"
It took him three seconds to realize that Crouch was finished with her scolding, her face contorted in impatience, waiting for his reply. Regulus pulled his gaze from her hair to meet her eyes. Kept his face calm and straightened his back.
"Of course," he replied simply.
Her eyes narrowed. "How?"
"Someone volunteered."
Crouch made an inscrutable look - probably caught between disbelief and wonder whether someone that stupid existed. Regulus boldly kept his gaze on her sharp blue eyes, knowing that to display weakness at times like this could lead to utter defeat.
She huffed, "Then someone was an idiot."
Regulus couldn't help it.
"It was your brother," he blurted out, freezing Crouch in her seat.
There was a pause.
It was too late to take it back now, he gulped. You see, Regulus wanted Crouch to be angry with him. But he didn't want her to be too angry with him. There was a fine line between it.
"It was his plan," Regulus confessed hastily when Crouch was still stuck in her frozen state. "He was in need of some schadenfreude – his words, not mine – and those four had been getting on his nerves. I told him about the potion and he asked if I could alter it."
It was reckless what they did, Regulus would admit that. Not the whole execution, of course - their execution was perfect, and no one gave them a second glance or suspected anything. What he meant by reckless was altering the potion. Potion alteration wouldn't have been something he would attempt to do last year, and it was risky to do even now. But the other option was Evan's plan - which surely would traumatize his brother more, so…
Crouch's eyes closed, a pained look crossed her face in an instant. "Idiot," she muttered under her breath with feelings, looking as if sending a mental scolding to her brother with her mind.
Regulus solemnly agreed.
Thankfully, after all the scolding and huffing, a halfhearted promise to not alter something and test his potions without her again, they continued their study like it was before. Crouch asked him about the alteration he made on her canary potion - which Regulus eagerly shared with pride - and they spent an hour discussing that potion alone.
Perhaps it was his perception alone, but he felt that Crouch wasn't as tense as she was after that favor thing. Her words did not come out hesitant or deliberate. Her blue eyes weren't as distant. Or maybe that was because he stopped over-analyzing things and connecting everything to his guilt.
Who knew making someone angry over something he didn't feel guilty of would distract him from his actual guilt?
.
April was the busiest month, except perhaps for the many slackers who Regulus could name at least some. It was the month when students started to take their revising seriously and finished the many end-of-year assignments that were due at the end of May, and Regulus thought that everyone was walking a bit faster in this month than they had ever for the entire year. It couldn't be helped, he supposed.
However, Regulus drew the line in walking in a rush without any resemblance of manners.
"Watch it, Black!" snarled a tall figure after their shoulder bumped on his.
Regulus gave the uncouth person nothing except a cold look. He caught Snape's glare as the older boy passed by, his lone quick stride would make one think that he had someone expecting his presence since yesterday. But of course that assumption couldn't be more wrong. Snape didn't have anyone waiting for him.
"Snape's been in an awful mood lately," commented Pyrites from behind him, watching Snape's back as the older boy left. Regulus scoffed.
"When is he not in a bad mood?"
"I heard his mudblood friend is finally giving Potter a chance," offered Warrington. Regulus couldn't care less for his words. He resumed his walk to the dorm, Rabastan gliding beside him.
The last class of the day had just finished and all his classmates had only one destination in mind: Their dorm. Regulus could understand the need to put all the books they had to carry today – transfiguration and potion books were noticeably heavier than their other textbooks – But why they all chose to walk behind him was a complete mystery. He got that his family was as influential as a pureblood family could get in Britain, but surely that did not mean that they had to follow him everywhere?
"I suppose even mudbloods would know that Potter is better than a halfblood upstart," continued Pyrites with a snicker.
They were so close to their dorm. One turn left and they would have seen the entrance to their house.
Unfortunately, Pyrites' comment started something they did not expect.
"Let's not start calling others with names," said another evenly, her voice staining in volume. "We Slytherins are all upstarts, after all."
Regulus had years of etiquette training to thank for not halting in his steps. The fact that Crouch was including herself in that sentence made Regulus uncertain whether to be offended or confused, and it didn't surprise him that her words triggered some response from the others. He sensed the line behind him had stopped, and Regulus sent Rabastan a look. They both stopped to turn around as well.
Crouch was walking at the very back, with the cautious Orpington beside her, and they too stopped in their walk as all of their classmates were now facing against them. It felt heavy, the air. None seemed to realize that one of the girls was looking down frozenly - aware that it was her that Crouch was defending.
"Speak for yourself, Crouch" sneered Warrington, "My family is - "
"Old," she cut in disinterestedly, face as stoic as a board, "Mine is older. Yet, we're only twelve and thirteen. Not so important, are we?"
Warrington flushed.
"Our age doesn't matter. Have you no pride in your family name?"
Crouch looked highly amused. "Have I – Why, of course I have. That only serves my point though. We have nothing more than pride to brag about."
Regulus frowned, mulling over her words. It was true, to a certain degree.
But before he could think on it more, Warrington had started to grin maliciously.
"Well," he drawled, "my family is currently doing great things. One you couldn't possibly imagine, with your own Father slaving himself uselessly for the ministry. And I too will soon join their cause – "
Parkinson and Pyrites both smirked knowingly at Warrington's words but Regulus found himself stiffening, eyes drawn to Crouch's facial expression.
Her face betrayed nothing.
"Which means you are no one of importance until then, Warrington," Rabastan cut in, before the other boy could blabber more. Warrington turned to them and Regulus wished the imbecile would drop dead under his glare. Rabastan, Regulus knew, would be glaring at the idiot as well.
His friend turned to Crouch with an easy smile, "I think I'll agree with you, Crouch. We haven't got much to be proud of except for our family's standing."
Regulus watched as Crouch quickly nodded, face still blank of any emotion.
Their walk after that was quiet.
It was just one corridor before their dorm, yet it felt longer for Regulus, mind spiralling in his worries. He didn't know why he felt this worried – Crouch was a pureblood, so she could, in the end, be persuaded in joining their cause. He thought all her actions were rather acceptable, even though she did seem to be partial with the lesser blood. Crouch wasn't a bloodtraitor, she said so herself last year - even went as far as proving it by putting that cleaning charm on Dowson. She wouldn't be like Andromeda, wouldn't run off with some mudblood, or even a halfblood and betray her family. She would have to leave her brother for that and Regulus didn't see it happening.
He arrived in his room and mechanically put all his books on his desk. His trunk, where he kept his hidden stash, laid closed at its side and Regulus paused.
The image of Crouch's back, her braid, Remus Lupin, and a chocolate entered his mind, and a voice asked, what if -
He silenced it before the words could form and haunt him during sleepless nights.
She wouldn't, he thought.
Would she?
He hated his mind.
For the next few days, the days continued as normal. Regulus tried to take his mind off Crouch and her political view and he almost succeeded, if it wasn't for that evening when he walked past one of Slughorn's potion brewing rooms.
The professor allowed students to use the brewing room for studying purposes, and most that used the room were the fifth years and above. But his eyes caught the sight of Crouch there, trying to talk to Snape and looking persistent despite Snape's clear displeasure with her presence as he brewed something. Regulus walked by that room three times just so he could see how long Crouch would be talking to Snape – They talked for fifteen minutes, at the very least.
Snape.
Another halfblood.
So of course Regulus consulted his concern to Rabastan. He couldn't possibly solve this problem by himself. Regulus's notes on Crouch were already so convoluted. Tangled. Labyrinthine. One more mystery and Regulus would probably blow up.
"Why don't you just ask Barty rather than keep worrying over this?" Rabastan asked tiredly over his end-year charm essay, not really looking up to him.
Regulus stared at his friend, processing his words.
He had been voicing his concern to Rabastan for the last half an hour now, and Regulus had begun to think that his friend wasn't listening at all for the last ten minutes. But Rabastan's advice, as usual, was very reasonable. He nodded, "That makes sense."
Rabastan finally lifted his eyes from his essay.
"Your mind would have made sense too if you weren't so obsessed with her."
Regulus felt attacked.
"I'm a Black," he defended proudly. "This is very normal."
Rabastan snorted, making Regulus narrow his eyes, challenging. But his friend said nothing else.
.
The first years were working on something at their respective tables. Assignments, no doubt. Regulus could see the Spell Book grade 1, Magical Drafts and Potions, and 1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi, each held by different first years, except for the last two who were lounging on what he knew to be Evan's bed.
"Focus, Evan," Barty scolded, a thick book in his hand. Regulus immediately recognized it by the sheer thickness. The history textbook, A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot.
Evan groaned, burying his head on a pillow. Regulus eyed the boy with pity. This had been going on for almost a month now. Barty's drive in studying had gone out of control and he dragged his friend with him. Rabastan blamed it on the approaching end year exam but Regulus once saw him with a third year book, Intermediate Transfiguration, so he wasn't quite as sure.
"Ugh," said Evan eloquently.
Barty did not look impressed.
"Come now, I know you know the answer. We've covered this before."
"No, that's my answer. Ugh."
Barty paused, blinking slowly before he smiled.
"Oh. Well, then. That is false. The correct answer would be Urg."
"That's what I said."
"No it's not."
Regulus frowned as the two boys bickered. Urg, like Urg the Unclean? That was one of the goblin rebel leaders. It wasn't covered in the first year history – nor was it covered in the second year history.
But never mind that. Regulus knocked on the opened door, drawing all the first year's eyes to him. He kept his eyes on his two friends on the bed though, silently demanding their time.
Evan and Barty exchanged one quick glance.
They followed him to the second year room without complaint.
"So?" Barty asked once both first years were seated on the sofa. Regulus opted to keep standing, leaning on his bedpost as he stared down at the first years, while Rabastan still didn't bother to look up from the essay on his desk. "What do you want to talk about?"
Regulus did not beat around the bush.
"Your sister."
"Shocker," uttered Barty under his breath. He paid it no mind.
"She's… " His words trailed off as he pondered. How should he say it to avoid his inquiry coming out as an accusation? "She has other friends than purebloods," Regulus finally stated, satisfied with his choice of words.
Barty shrugged.
"Our mother asks us to make friends. With how she is, it's a miracle that she spends some time with something other than books to begin with."
Regulus frowned. Barty was missing his point. "But you only associate with us," he stressed out.
The other boy huffed. "Yeah, don't make me regret it."
Regulus deadpanned at his reply. Barty was usually quick in comprehending what others meant but this topic flew right over his head.
Rabastan, as if sensing his impatience, intervened.
"What Regulus meant to say," his friend slowly said. He wrote one last word before putting down his quill and turned around to look at Barty in his eyes, "is that you seem to be more concerned about who you associate with than your sister. Evan, Me, Regulus. We're all the pinnacle of purebloods in the whole wizarding Britain. Your sister, on the other hand, has been seen spending her time with Hufflepuffs and the halfbloods of this house."
It was probably just a trick of light, but Barty's eyes seemed to glint and sharpen for a split second. "Well, I think she's a Hufflepuff at heart," said Barty with ease.
Regulus stared.
"Crouch. A Hufflepuff."
His incredulity was shared with Rabastan. Crouch, they thought, was decidedly not a Hufflepuff - not after they repeatedly watched her slay her enemies in their house. She could be nice, and she was mostly kind and polite, that Regulus would not object. But to deem her Hufflepuff? Hufflepuffs did not have fangs. He had not seen them retaliate with malice even once, not even after that one time when his brother and his friends filled their quidditch team's broom room with a stink bomb.
Regulus frowned, another thought occuring in his mind. He supposed the Hufflepuffs did have more… tolerance, for mudbloods. Even families such as the Smiths, who stayed true to their tradition, made an appearance of affability towards them - unlike Regulus' family who outright forbade him from associating with any of them. Barty's previous answer might have answered his question after all - Crouch's family probably did not forbid her from associating with mudbloods, and their mother's order had been to make friends…
But he couldn't fathom why Crouch would have chosen those halfbloods and mudbloods if she could have befriended the purebloods.
Evan, who had been silently listening the entire time, finally spoke, face pinched, "What, does Maddy like mudbloods or something?"
Barty frowned. "No. But don't say the word mudblood in front of her."
Evan's eyes widened in surprise. "Is she a bloodtraitor?"
Regulus snapped his head at the idiot. Why would he ask that?
Despite the already cold nature of their dorm, the temperature seemed to drop in an instant. Regulus knew this cold rage. He had felt this once before - right after Dowson accused Madeline Crouch of being a bloodtraitor. He stiffly returned his gaze to the younger Crouch, witnessing his blue eyes locked at Evan, its hue changed into something a bit darker, a bit crazier.
"You forgot that I can summon things wandlessly, Evan," Barty grinned pleasantly. The implication of his words was anything but. Evan froze, realizing his mistake, but Barty was happy to elaborate so his best friend could truly learn. "Do you want me to choke you with your tie again? Or maybe a tripping hex at the top of the stairs. Wandless magic leaves no traces on their caster, you know."
They had that same sharp smile, Regulus gulped nervously.
Barty let his words get carried through the silence, and Evan wisely shut his mouth, knowing that no matter how close of a friend they were, Barty wouldn't have let them go unpunished if they slighted against his sister.
Only after Barty deemed his message had been truly digested that he continued with his explanation.
"My family is not dark, as you may have known. We like to stay neutral about everything, therefore we do not betray anyone if we associate ourselves with halfbloods and muggleborns. My mother also told us that the word mudblood is not to be said in a civilized company, so you won't hear me calling someone with that word either."
Regulus studied the younger boy quietly, perhaps stunned by his words. Now that he thought about it, Barty never said the word mudblood before, and he didn't laugh when Evan joked about them… But this was the first time he made it clear of his view.
He dreaded to ask his next question but he needed to know.
"But does your family allow you or your sister to sully your blood?"
Barty turned to him so quickly he was probably dizzy from the motion. A scowl marred his face, "Of course not. Ruining the purity of our family will deprive us of our privilege as the sacred-28, so no, that will not happen."
The tension broke. Regulus released the breath he didn't realize he was holding on, relief crashing down his chest, washing away all his worry. He could see Evan and Rabastan slowly exhaling as well. At least the Crouches were reasonable. Not the brash gryffindor-muggle lover kind.
Perhaps they could be persuaded into joining them after all.
.
Madeline did not often use the corridors idly when she truly had somewhere to go. The portrait passageways were her first choice, and while she usually didn't use her cat form to roam the castle's corridors, she used it to explore the castle's walls and pipe installation so she could pop up anywhere.
But Warrington's words rang in her head, urging her to assess the general situation inside the castle.
She knew that Voldemort had not made a public appearance, and that the dark mark had not been sighted anywhere in Britain. But Warrington spoke of the cause so openly that she began to worry if something had changed. One of the reasons she thought of was that they had mimicked it from their family. But Madeline was reading the news religiously, and she knew that Voldemort hadn't made use of minor families such as the Warringtons and the Pyrites - they were not rich, nor did they had significant influence in the political ground, and she was pretty sure that they joined because of fear and not true loyalty. Therefore, the chances were slim that their family would brag about such matters.
So where did those children learn to do it?
There were no changes in the corridors, Madeline relieved to say. It was still just the old dumb house rivalry, and she was disturbed to learn that her house was filled with the likes of Draco Malfoy. Open in their prejudice, mocking and condescending everyone that crossed their path - but not idiotically spewing Voldemort's causes and movements. So those children couldn't have mimicked the general population of their house either.
So what changed?
Or had it always been like this and she never noticed it?
Another week went by, and she was taking the grand stairs to the first floor corridor to head to the library, hoping to finish all her end year assignments there as she had postponed it long enough in favor of her projects. But she paused just as she reached the floor, taking in the sight of a crowd, blocking the way to the library.
She frowned.
Even after approaching the crowd, Madeline still couldn't see what the crowd was watching. The crowd was taller than her - a bunch of upper year students, no doubt - and so she tapped one of the boys in front of her, making him turn, cautious expression on his face. Her eye level only reached his yellow tie but he quickly lowered his gaze, finally meeting her curious eyes.
"What's going on?"
The boy glanced at her tie. "Just the usual. Some Gryffindors and someone from your house suddenly started to fight in the corridor."
Madeline turned her head to the center of the crowd, but she still couldn't see anything. She cursed her height. With a huff, she turned to the hufflepuff boy again. "Get a professor to stop the fight, then."
The boy hesitated for a second too long and Madeline had no patience for it. Her wand was in her hand in an instant, subtly pointing to the boy, "Go."
Her compulsion charm did its work. A sense of urgency came to life in his eyes and the boy was immediately gone from her sight. Sighing, Madeline returned her attention to the center of the crowd.
" - make her feel miserable!"
"Shut your trap, Potter! It was your fault that this happened in the first place!"
Her eyebrows shot up, finally realizing whose fight it was that the crowd was watching. She winced internally as she connected the dots. It was their library day, and Lily must have refused Snape's company again.
Her interference had not worked as she hoped it would. On the contrary, Snape confronted Lily for being friendly to James Potter and refused to see her reason - she claimed it was because of her intention to befriend all her housemates.
But it wouldn't have gone worse if Snape didn't proceed to insult her.
"Oh, can you believe him Maddy?" Ranted Lily after they fought, "He said I'm only tolerable because I was his friend first! Never hold it against me for being a Gryffindor, he said! Well I heard enough! I like being a Gryffindor! Urgh! It's because of the likes of James Potter that Gryffindor got its bad reputation! Oh, don't make me start with that toerag - "
And now Lily was friends with neither Snape or the Marauders and Madeline could see why this fueled their loathing against each other. Madeline had tried talking to Snape about his dislike against Gryffindors, but somehow, Snape realized that it was her that suggested Lily to befriend James Potter, and now the older boy refused to talk to her.
She had made a complete mess out of everything.
Furious footsteps were heard not long after the Hufflepuff boy was gone. The owner immediately announced her presence after they reached the floor, her voice loud and clear, "What is the meaning of this?"
Professor Mcgonagall's shriek worked effectively in dispersing the crowd, and Madeline finally could see Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew on the ground, their knees bent in the wrong way, while Remus Lupin stood in front of them with determined look on his face, as if protecting the fallen from the enemy. James Potter was holding Snape by the collar, two wands lay helplessly on the floor, and they both had red marks on their face that would quickly grow into a bruise. James Potter let go of his grip, and a snarling Snape eyed them contemptuously.
"They started it."
And an outrage began.
"He's bothering our - "
" - slimy, behind our back - !"
" - using dark magic, I tell you!"
"- hexed us first!"
"Stop lying, you bumbling fools!" Snape sneered, making the professor's eyes bulged at him.
"Mister Snape!"
Madeline made a complete turn, heading to the grand stairs once more. Her gut churned, making her want to throw up. She didn't feel like studying in the library again. There was a passageway on the ground floor that would lead her to the seventh floor, she would just use it and do her assignments in the room of requirement. It would be quiet there, no one to disturb her peace of mind except herself.
At her back, the heated fight between Snape and the Marauders continued on.
.
Old habit dies hard, they said. It must be true, as Madeline spent more and more time thinking about Barty's upcoming birthday and her plans for it. A solid distraction from the mess she made. May came, and while others were buzzing in excitement for the last quidditch games of the season, Madeline was busy making the preparation for her present, assuring everything was perfect for the big day.
But of course she didn't miss the game.
"Came to watch Reg?" Asked Barty upon her late arrival.
Madeline smiled at her brother. She needed to do some steps for one of her potions this morning, so she let Barty go to the quidditch pitch first. But as usual, Barty saved her a place beside him, though she was a bit surprised to find that Rabastan Lestrange would be standing on her right. "Sure," she replied lightly, taking her place beside him.
The sky was clear today, and the players were now flying freely above the pit. It was 20 - 30 in Slytherin's favor, and from what she could see, her house hadn't deemed it necessary to play dirty this early in the game.
Madeline wisely crossed her arms as she watched the game, hugging her body despite not feeling cold. The urge to hold her wand was high, but she realized how stupid it was to hold her wand in a quidditch game. The pitch, after all, was warded against concentrated magic that wands channeled once the game had started.
Regulus Black flew above the Slytherin stands, drawing a cheer from her house. She beamed when his eyes caught hers. Madeline followed her housemates' good example, cupping the side of her mouth as she shouted, "You got this, Black!"
He paused in his flight, rather roughly she noted in confusion, before finally flying high to the center of the pitch again, looking like the literal definition of fleeing.
"Now, why would you ruin his concentration like that?"
She turned to an amused Rabastan Lestrange, hoping that the blush on her cheeks were not too visible. Did she and the rest of the house just ruin Black's concentration by cheering for the boy? She thought he had gotten over his shyness after winning his first and second game… "We were just cheering for him."
Her brother and Evan snorted from her left, as if she had just made a joke.
She frowned. Were they making fun of her?
As she glanced at her brother once more however, she caught something peculiar at the corner of her sight. At the back of the stands, she realised just then, were Wilkins, Warrington, and Pyrites, standing in a crowd of third years. She had thought that it was rather odd for Rabastan Lestrange to stand with them, but now the reason was glaringly clear.
"Mad, look! We're ahead by 25 points!"
She returned her gaze to the game at her brother's call.
The game continued painfully slow after that. The Ravenclaw goaled one, and the slytherin goaled another. They goaled twice and the slytherin made sure they goaled four more. It continued like this for two hours, and neither seekers seemed to have caught sight of the snitch.
"Uh oh, the ravenclaws are striking again," Evan commented, panic in his eyes as he watched the Ravenclaw's chasers flying in a formation, the quaffle in their possession. "Reg better find that snitch soon."
A collective relieved sigh was heard from their house when Bulstrode managed to destroy their formation with the bludger. But their breath hitched again as the two seekers, who had been flying over all the other players, suddenly dived, as if racing to meet the ground.
"He must have found it!" Shouted someone.
"Or it could be a feint," added another.
But Madeline knew that it wasn't a feint. Both seekers had dived at the exact same time, and they changed their direction simultaneously, eyes focusing to the same spot. Black leaned down to the broom as low as possible, but so did the Ravenclaw seeker, and both of them matched in their speed. A glint in the sky reflected the sunlight in just a blink, indicating the Snitch'a position. It was almost in an arm reach.
The Ravenclaw's seeker, however, was a sixth year and had a longer arm.
"He's not going to make it," Barty quietly muttered. Evan quickly hushed him.
"Don't jinx it! He will make it! He has to!"
Everyone was split between whether Black would make it in time and catch the snitch or he would not, and they baited their breath, seconds stretched into eternity.
No one expected him to suddenly make an idiotic decision to jump from his broom to reach farther.
Madeline's heart jumped in her chest, watching as the boy did not slow down in his fall. The screams of his friends around her were deafening but her brain failed to process their sound, struck in what her eyes were witnessing. His previous flight momentum was too strong, he was falling too fast - and there were only 20 feet between him and the ground. An image of a dark haired boy lying bloodied on red grass flashed in her mind,
- Harry, falling from hundreds of feet above the ground -
Without thinking, she loudly casted between the screams of the audience, "Aresto momentum!"
She poured all her will in her magic, hoping him to stop - stop before he reached the ground. She didn't know if her charm worked, it was too close to the ground.
And he still crashed.
Her heart stopped. For one, horrifying second, Black did not move. It was one second too long for her, and Madeline couldn't breath.
She was too late.
Her sight was blurry, her heart was pounding, and her mind kept screaming that she was too late.
"That lucky moron!"
She blinked, the fog on her eyes disappeared as her tears fell down her cheeks. There, on the pitch, Regulus Black was sitting, hunching as he cradled his left arm, but his other arm was high in the air -
"Black caught the snitch! I repeat, Black caught the snitch! Did you all see his fall? That was awesome! Slytherin won 230 - 50 against the Ravenclaws! What a game!"