Regulus's time belonged to more important things.
Deepening his spatial magic and natural magical energy, refining Fiendfyre control, each demanded enormous reserves of focus.
He still had to contend with whatever tentacles Voldemort's forces might extend in his direction.
Sticking his neck out for two half-blood first-years didn't make the priority list.
If he charged in every time he witnessed an injustice, he'd never get anything else done. Mediating disputes alone would keep him busy until graduation.
Besides, direct intervention would blur his positioning.
He was Slytherin's first-year Chief, the Black heir, a prodigy under observation from multiple factions.
The moment he publicly championed two half-bloods, certain people would read into it. The Black family softening on blood status. Or Regulus Black consolidating half-blood support.
Both were things he could afford to do.
Not yet.
So he chose the indirect route and looked at Alex.
Alex fit this role well. He was Pure-blood. The Rosier branch family was minor, but minor still meant Pure-blood.
His temperament ran gentle, and he'd always gotten along with Samuel and Lina. By Pure-blood standards, "gotten along" meant being willing to speak to half-bloods at all.
He had Regulus behind him, but the backing wouldn't show its face. That left room to maneuver.
Regulus wanted Alex to learn how to handle situations like this.
Not every conflict could require his personal involvement. He needed people around him who could operate independently, resolving small-scale problems as they arose without reporting every detail up the chain.
"This situation," Regulus asked him. "Do you want to handle it?"
Alex froze.
His mouth opened slightly. He blinked, as though the question hadn't registered.
After a moment, he managed to stammer out, "I... they only asked me to pass the message to you..."
It hadn't crossed his mind to handle it himself.
Samuel and Lina had waited for him in the common room, pleading with him to relay their situation to Regulus, hoping the first-year Chief might say something, or at least send Cuthbert to intimidate the Gryffindors.
They hadn't expected anything from Alex. In the eyes of half-bloods, he was the approachable Pure-blood, someone you could talk to, but never someone who could solve problems.
Now Regulus had tossed the problem back at him.
Alex's thoughts tangled. Did he want to handle it? Maybe. A little.
He'd walked past once while Samuel and Lina were being cornered. He hadn't stepped in. The discomfort had lingered afterward.
But wanting to and being able to were different things. He'd struggle against one Prewett, let alone three. In a real confrontation, the odds of getting his teeth kicked in were high.
Cuthbert stood up and crossed to Alex, stopping close enough that Alex could see the impatience in his eyes.
"What's there to hesitate about?" Cuthbert's tone was sharp. "Slytherins getting bullied by Gryffindors, and we're supposed to swallow it? So what if they're half-bloods? They're Slytherin half-bloods. Whatever happens inside the house stays inside the house. Outsiders don't get to touch ours."
He turned to Regulus. "I'll go find Prewett. Don't need three people. I'm enough."
Regulus watched him, waiting for the heat to settle, before speaking. "If you go, are you going as a Cuthbert, or as a Slytherin first-year?"
Cuthbert's mouth snapped shut.
The Avery family held positions in the Ministry of Magic. They were half-colleagues with the Prewetts. If he invoked the family name, the matter could escalate to a family-level dispute, and his father might get dragged in.
If he went as an individual, then it was one first-year picking a fight with three. A win was fine. A loss was humiliating.
"I..." Cuthbert ground his teeth. "I can't let this slide."
"Which is why you need a strategy." Regulus's voice stayed level.
He looked at Alex. The boy was still dazed, but something new had crept into his eyes. The tension of being shoved to the front. And beneath it, a flicker of responsibility he hadn't noticed in himself.
Regulus knew Alex needed a push.
"You handle it." He rose and met Alex's eyes. "Cuthbert backs you up. Don't just beat them down. Make sure they never try it again. Figure out the method yourself."
Alex swallowed. He looked at Regulus, then at Cuthbert, and finally his gaze dropped to his own shoes.
A beat passed. He lifted his head, voice still thin. "I... I'll handle it."
He turned to Cuthbert, quieter still. "Will you help me?"
Cuthbert rolled his eyes. "Obviously. What, you think I'd let you go get pummeled alone?"
Hermes walked over from his bed. He'd been silent the entire time, but he'd heard everything that mattered.
He took a position on Alex's other side, though his eyes were on Regulus. "Three against three is fair. I'm going too."
Regulus nodded. He understood what Hermes meant. This was the first joint action since he'd reintegrated into the group. The scale of the conflict was beneath him, but he'd chosen to stand with them regardless.
One instruction. "No Dark magic."
Hermes grunted acknowledgment.
The roles were clear. Alex would lead. Cuthbert would hold the line. Hermes was the muscle.
That combination could handle any conflict at the first-year level.
Alex drew a deep breath and walked out of the dormitory.
Through the door came the sound of hushed voices. Samuel and Lina had been waiting in the corridor.
Regulus heard two sharp gasps of surprise, then Alex's voice explaining, growing steadier as he spoke.
He shook his head and stopped paying attention.
Time for the Restricted Section.
A tap of his wand against his chest, and the outlines of his body began to blur, color draining away until he merged with his surroundings, invisible.
He pushed the door open and left.
In the corridor, Alex was still talking to Samuel and Lina.
The two half-blood first-years wore expressions caught between shock and hope.
They saw the dormitory door open and close, but no one came through. Not even a faint breeze brushed past them.
---
Regulus stayed in the library until ten to eight, then closed his book and returned it to its designated spot on the shelf.
The corridor torches had already been lit when he stepped out, casting orange halos that wavered across the stone floor.
At eight o'clock sharp, he pushed open the door to the Room of Requirement.
The other three were already inside.
Cuthbert was shadow-boxing the air, mouth providing his own sound effects. "Whoosh! Crack!"
Alex sat on a wooden crate nearby, rubbing his right leg, eyes bright.
Hermes leaned against the wall with his arms folded, face blank.
The sound of the door made all three turn.
Cuthbert rushed over, feet moving so fast he nearly tripped.
Regulus's gaze swept his face. The left eye socket was bruised dark purple, swollen until the lid was barely a slit. A split at the corner of his mouth had only just scabbed over.
Cuthbert grinned, tugged the wound, and immediately sucked air through his teeth.
"We won!" The excitement in his voice was uncontainable.
Regulus's eyes shifted to Alex.
He'd risen from the crate, wobbling when his right foot hit the ground, weight tilting left. Someone had gotten a solid kick into his shin.
His expression carried that same charged energy. The timidity he usually wore like a shell had cracked open, something bright showing through underneath.
Last, Hermes. He walked over with an even stride, face clean, robes unwrinkled.
But Regulus noticed something off about his expression. Too calm.
In his natural state, Hermes carried a faint layer of brooding. That was baseline.
This deliberate composure was the opposite of what it appeared. It meant whatever was underneath wasn't calm at all.
The outcome wasn't surprising.
Cuthbert was the weakest of the four, but among the first-years, few could produce a complete Protego. He was one of them. The bruises on his face were par for the course. Young wizards' fights always went this way: spells missed, magic ran low, and it devolved into fists. Taking a punch was normal. Winning was what counted.
Hermes was another matter entirely. Outside of Regulus, he was the strongest in their year. Raised on Dark magic and willing to hit hard, he could have taken on second or third-years if the leash came off. Even restricted to standard spells as Regulus had ordered, three Gryffindors were well within his range. Against opponents of equal skill, his edge was temperamental. He'd commit to a brutal strike. The other side might hesitate.
Alex was the mild surprise.
The injuries said he'd taken his share of blows, but there was a light in his eyes that hadn't been there before. So I can fight too.
Normally, he had to be dragged into motion. Inert until pushed. But once someone gave him that push, he moved, and his follow-through was solid.
In any case, a win was a win.
Regulus walked up to Cuthbert and clapped a hand on his shoulder. Cuthbert's grin widened further, blood seeping fresh from the split lip, and he couldn't have cared less.
He moved to Alex and did the same.
"Well done." Regulus gave him the extra words.
---
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