Farther off, a few Slytherins who'd been practicing nearby noticed the scene and immediately drifted closer. Three became five, five became more.
Alphard's expression shifted. His two friends, Colin and Gareth, exchanged a tense look.
At that moment, Regulus raised his left hand.
He didn't turn around. His back was to every Slytherin present.
Palm upright. Fingers together.
A crisp, unmistakable signal to stop.
Cuthbert froze. His wand, half raised, sagged but didn't lower all the way.
Hermes narrowed his eyes, staring at Regulus's back. His wand stayed up, but the tip began to drift aside.
Alex let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
The Slytherins who'd gathered hesitated. Their brooms hovered, motionless in midair. No one pressed forward.
Regulus didn't look back. A faint, knowing smile touched his lips.
A compliance test.
Slytherins were proud, brooding, cautious, and prone to following the current. And now, without a word, they had obeyed him.
Getting them to move as one wasn't easy. But once a single person stopped, the rest followed naturally.
It traced back to the first night of term, when a fifth-year Travers had been utterly crushed. Authority had been established.
Across the way, the Gryffindors who'd started to gather also halted. Eyes flicked between one another, the tension thick but restrained.
"What's wrong, Black?" Alphard said, forcing calm into his voice. "Afraid your little helpers will embarrass you?"
"On the contrary," Regulus said, sounding genuinely puzzled. "I'm worried they'll act too fast and you won't get the chance to show your… courage?"
"Expelliarmus!" Alphard snapped, red light firing again.
This time, Regulus didn't even speak.
His wand lifted slightly. A faint glimmer struck the strap binding the front of Alphard's broom.
Reparo.
A first-year spell. The sort used to fix chair legs or mend torn robes.
Click.
The strap tightened abruptly. The broom's nose dipped hard.
Alphard's Disarming Charm shot into the ground as the broom lurched, blasting a small crater in the sand. He yelped and clutched the handle, barely avoiding being thrown off.
"Reparo… on the strap?!" a Gryffindor blurted out.
"Incredible!" a Slytherin shouted.
Colin rushed to back Alphard up. "Rictusempra!"
A streak of silver shot toward Regulus's side.
Regulus didn't even glance at him. His wand angled down to the left. "Aguamenti."
Water sprayed across the ground beneath Colin's broom. Mud splashed as the earth turned slick.
The old Cleansweep still had wheels.
They sank straight into the muck. The broom jolted to a dead stop, and Colin's spell veered wildly off course.
From the other side, Gareth tried to catch Regulus unaware. "Stupefy!"
This time, Regulus looked at him.
Just once.
His wand tapped the ground near Gareth's feet. "Incendio."
A small flame sprang up in the dry grass.
Gareth's broom had a woven wicker base. Fire was the last thing it wanted near it. He panicked, yanking upward, and his spell went wide.
Three directions. Three attacks.
Regulus answered each with the most basic spells imaginable, never targeting a person, only the environment and the brooms themselves. Balance shattered. Spells missed.
Once was coincidence. Twice was luck.
Three times was a crushing difference in skill.
Alphard's face went white. He'd barely stabilized his broom when Regulus's voice reached him.
"Do you want to keep going?" Regulus asked calmly. "Or would you like to demonstrate something else?"
The surrounding Slytherins stared, stunned.
"He never attacked anyone," a Slytherin girl whispered.
"He only hit the brooms and the ground," a boy murmured. "That's worse than getting hit."
"And those spells," another added, incredulous. "They're all from the first thirty pages of Standard Book of Spells, Grade One."
"I don't believe for a second that's all he knows."
Cuthbert watched Regulus's back, expression tangled. He knew every spell Regulus had used. He just couldn't imagine using them like that.
Hermes quietly lowered his wand. His gaze lingered on each precise impact point, every choice maximizing effect while minimizing effort.
Then a furious shout cut through the field.
"What do you think you're doing?!"
Madam Hooch stormed in like a gale, her face dark as thunder. "Wands down. Now!"
Alphard and the others hurriedly pocketed their wands and jumped off their brooms, sweat streaking their faces.
"Prewett! Macmillan! Diggory!" Madam Hooch barked. "Using spells during flying class. Against fellow students. Gryffindor loses thirty points. One week's detention each!"
"But, Professor!" Alphard protested. "He used spells too—"
"What spells did Black use?" Madam Hooch demanded, sharp eyes locking onto Regulus.
"Reparo, Professor," Regulus said evenly, meeting her gaze. "To reinforce a strap. Aguamenti to reduce dust on the ground. Incendio to dry wet grass."
Madam Hooch studied him for several seconds, then the ground, then the broom. The strap was indeed tighter. There was water on the earth. Scorched marks on the turf.
"Prewett," she said coolly, "are you accusing Black of attacking you with a Mending Charm?"
A few stifled snickers rippled through the crowd.
Alphard opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
"Another ten points from Gryffindor," Madam Hooch said flatly. "For making a false accusation. Now get inside. All of you."
As the Slytherins left, nearly every student who passed Regulus slowed, eyes lingering on him.
Surprise.
Respect.
Approval.
Slytherin valued power. It valued intelligence in using it even more.
That night, in the Slytherin Common Room.
Green flames crackled softly in the fireplace, casting light over dark drapes and silver accents. First-years clustered around the sofas, the afternoon's events the undeniable focus.
"Why didn't you let us step in?" one boy finally asked Regulus. "We had the numbers. We could've—"
"Could've what?" Regulus cut in, lifting his gaze to the group. "Given Gryffindor grounds to appeal?"
"All of us jumping in," he continued quietly. "Attacking three Gryffindors together?"
He set down his quill. "Slytherin's lost the House Cup three years in a row. Every ten points can decide the outcome. Was it worth throwing away dozens?"
Silence followed.
House points hit Slytherin harder than most. The younger the student, the more they cared.
"And besides," Regulus went on, "if you'd joined in, it would've been a brawl. When Madam Hooch arrived, she would've seen Slytherin surrounding three Gryffindors. Instead—"
"She saw three Gryffindors attacking one Slytherin," someone finished softly, "and that Slytherin wasn't even fighting back. Just fixing a broom, cleaning the ground, and drying the grass."
A few people laughed under their breath.
Regulus scanned the room. Some older students had started listening in. He raised his voice slightly.
"And the result?" He stood, addressing the whole Common Room. "Gryffindor lost forty points. Slytherin lost none. Prewett and the others are in detention until next week."
His chin lifted, energy creeping into his tone. "And we gained respect.
"Madam Hooch saw Slytherin's restraint and discipline. The other Houses learned that provoking Slytherin has a price."
At that moment, Prefect Lucretius Burke stepped over. He looked down at the younger students.
"Impulsiveness, mob fights, reckless point losses," he said coolly. "That's Gryffindor's way.
"Slytherin seeks victory, advantage, and glory. Today, Black showed how to strike hardest within the rules, while taking the least damage in return."
He turned to Regulus. "You earned respect for the House and avoided a disastrous penalty. Well done."
Several older students nodded. The first-years stared at Regulus with a mix of awe and envy.
So soon after arriving, and he already had a prefect's public approval.
Regulus inclined his head. "I only made the choice that benefited the House most."
Back in the dormitory, Cuthbert paused mid-essay and looked up.
"You did it on purpose," he said.
Regulus returned an amused glance. "Did what on purpose?"
Cuthbert wasn't like some of the brainless pure-bloods. He thought.
Hermes also lifted his head from his book, watching Regulus closely. He'd felt it too. Something had been off earlier.
Regulus didn't wait for Cuthbert to elaborate. He turned to Hermes instead.
"You were thinking of casting at me," Regulus said calmly.
Hermes's eyes tightened. The thought had crossed his mind, just for an instant.
He noticed that?
Was that a bluff?
He stayed silent.
Cuthbert narrowed his eyes, looking between the two of them.
Alex held his breath, doing his absolute best to remain unnoticed.
Can I change dorms?
This place is terrifying.