The last day of September.
The lecture had moved from the siege phase to the rout of the giants and their flight, driven at last into the remotest mountain ranges of Europe.
Regulus sat in his usual seat. His mind drifted for a while, then drifted some more.
When the bell rang, a collective sigh of relief swept through the classroom.
---
At noon, Regulus and the others arrived at the Great Hall for lunch.
The long table was loaded.
The house-elves' handiwork was, as ever, dependable.
Cuthbert and Alex sat together, deep in discussion. Not loud, but their faces were bright with excitement.
"Have you looked at this year's first-years?" Cuthbert stabbed a potato with his fork. "The Nott kid looks fierce."
Alex chewed through a mouthful of pudding, voice muffled. "And the one from the Flint family. Tall."
"What good is tall?" Cuthbert struck the pose of a seasoned veteran. "We were first-years last year too. Look at Regulus..."
He trailed off, glancing sideways, and his voice dropped a notch.
Regulus heard. He didn't bother reacting. He had, in fairness, been shorter last year.
Cuthbert was talking about tonight. The Slytherin welcome gathering. The first-year Chief challenge.
This time last year, Regulus had stood among those first-years and burned his name into everyone's memory with a single Protego.
Hermes had refused to accept it. Threw Bone and Blood Stripping at him. Got pinned to the floor for the trouble.
Looking back, it felt like a long time ago.
Cuthbert continued his commentary on the incoming class.
"The Nott kid has that brooding look. Probably has a trick or two. The Flint one's big, but clumsy. Won't last two rounds. And that... who was it, from the Selwyn family? Was it a girl or a boy this year?"
"Girl," Alex said. "Rosalie Selwyn."
"Right, Rosalie." Cuthbert nodded, wearing the expression of a man surveying his domain. "Selwyns are never pushovers, but first-years are first-years. We thought Hermes was impressive last year too. And how'd that turn out?"
Alex nodded along, face carrying the distinct air of we've seen things.
Hermes sat nearby. His mouth twitched at the corner.
He remembered last year well enough.
He'd arrived fresh from home with a handful of dark spells and an ego to match. Then Regulus showed him exactly how wide the gap was.
At the time, he'd still believed that Hogwarts was all rules and restraints. That in a place where outcomes were real, where life and death were on the table, things would go differently.
Looking back now...
The embarrassment was physical.
He shook his head, kept eating, and stayed out of the conversation.
Regulus listened to their chatter, but his thoughts had gone elsewhere.
The first-year Chief challenge. As rituals went, it was interesting.
On the positive side, it gave new students a stage. Slytherin valued strength. That lesson came early, taught at home before Hogwarts ever entered the picture. Establishing yourself in your first year paid dividends for the six that followed. And a position earned through combat held firmer than one built on family name or connections.
At least in the lower years.
But there was a downside too. It inflated some people too early. Win one fight, or show up with a few spells learned at home, and they walked around convinced they were untouchable.
Hermes had been the textbook case. And then the lesson had arrived.
The logic was simple. Stand as high as you wanted, but prove you belonged there first.
Regulus didn't care about the event one way or the other. But he needed to show up tonight.
He wouldn't have to do anything. Sitting there would be enough.
He could float above Slytherin's internal politics entirely and no one would say a word. Even those who wanted to wouldn't dare say it to his face.
That was what position meant. Won in first year. Cemented in first year. Unquestioned since.
But Slytherin's culture had its own rhythms. Some things he could ignore. Some appearances he had to make, as acknowledgment that the collective rules still applied to him.
He set down his knife and fork and stood. Hermes rose immediately. He'd finished ages ago.
Cuthbert and Alex got up in sync.
But Cuthbert didn't leave right away. He pulled aside a first-year who'd been hovering near them during lunch.
He clapped the boy on the shoulder, voice low, dispensing wisdom. "Don't tense up in the first round. Stay steady. You know the Impediment Jinx? No? Then move your feet. Don't try to drop your opponent right away. Watch them first. Last year someone went in too hard and didn't even make it past round one."
The boy nodded furiously, worship written across his face.
A smaller boy in a brand-new Slytherin robe had edged up beside Alex, whispering to him. The kid looked nervous. Alex was doing his best to calm him down.
Hermes, meanwhile, had no such entourage.
That face of his did all the work. A walking sign that read don't bother me. The younger students took one look and decided he wasn't someone they wanted to approach. Or dared to.
Cuthbert finished his mentoring session with a final pat on the shoulder. "Right then. See you tonight."
Alex wrapped up on his end and fell into step.
The four of them walked out together.
Behind them, the two first-years stood rooted in place, watching them go.
One whispered, "That's..."
The other nodded without a word, but his eyes held awe. And longing.
---
Halfway down the center aisle, Regulus heard someone call his name.
"Regulus!"
The voice came from the Hufflepuff table.
He turned. Eleanor Bones was rising from her seat. Beside her, Susan Payne reached for the hem of her robe, missed.
Eleanor said something over her shoulder, gave Susan a pat, and strode over.
Regulus stopped. Cuthbert and the others stopped with him.
His impression of the Hufflepuff girl wasn't deep, but it wasn't shallow either.
First year, they'd crossed paths in the small garden. Talked about Herbology. She'd been loosening the soil around a Dittany plant while he studied a Magical Daisy nearby.
Later, at Halloween, she'd asked him to use Transfiguration to make a Jack-o'-lantern with a honey badger theme.
Last term in Hogsmeade, after the incident where dark wizards had taken him hostage, she'd come all the way to the Slytherin table to check on him.
Over the course of a year, they'd barely spoken. Barely seen each other. But her manner, open, frank, straightforward, wasn't the kind anyone disliked.
She could be called a familiar classmate. Possibly a friend someday.
Eleanor wore the yellow-trimmed Hufflepuff robes today, her light-brown hair pulled into a loose bun, a few stray strands framing her ears.
She walked over with purpose, practically storming, but as she got close, she winked at Regulus.
He blinked. Confused.
What was this about?
Then he felt it. A stare drilling into the back of his head from the Gryffindor table.
He didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Sirius.
Something clicked.
Cuthbert and the others, seeing Eleanor single out Regulus, assumed there was private business to discuss and started to leave.
Eleanor waved them off. "Cuthbert, stay. You don't have to go."
Cuthbert paused, caught off guard. Alex and Hermes stopped as well.
Eleanor planted herself in front of Regulus and launched straight in. Her tone carried complaint, but none of it was aimed at him.
"Regulus, you need to do something about your brother."
His eyebrow rose.
"I've been growing a Mandrake in the greenhouse. Tended it for the better part of a year. It was nearly mature. You know what he did? He ripped off every single leaf. Not one left. I asked him what he needed them for, and he told me to mind my own business!"
She stood with her hands on her hips, indignation radiating off her. "Honestly. You're both Blacks. How is the gap this wide?"
Off to the side, Cuthbert's mouth twitched.
None of them ever mentioned Sirius in front of Regulus. Early on, they'd thought about it. Figured the Black family name had taken a hit, producing a traitor.
But as Regulus became more and more... more and more impossible to argue with, they'd quietly expelled Sirius from the family in their minds.
That person and Regulus weren't even the same species. The distance between them was absurd.
Why bring him up?
Regulus looked at Eleanor, faintly exasperated, and didn't take the bait.
What was he supposed to say? That Sirius was adopted?
Besides, Eleanor didn't look like she'd come seeking justice. Not from him, anyway.
She looked like she'd come to vent.
She didn't wait for a response. "I'm not asking you to do anything about it. The leaves are gone. What's done is done. I'm telling you because I want you to know."
She glanced back at the Gryffindor table. "And to make a certain someone uncomfortable."
Her tone was completely transparent. Not a shred of pretense.
The revenge strategy had a certain elegance. No hitting. No shouting. Just marching over to the brother and filing a complaint.
I know what your relationship looks like. I know your mess. And now your brother knows too. Hehe.
Regulus found her amusing. Frank, open, and carrying a sliver of cunning underneath it all.
A faint smile touched his face. He said nothing. Just nodded.
Eleanor glanced back at the Gryffindor table mid-sentence.
When she turned to face him again, she studied his expression. Seeing no anger, seeing the trace of a smile, she relaxed.
Then she looked back one more time. The gesture was deliberate now. Pointed.
As if telling Sirius: Yes. I am tattling. Right now.
Regulus followed her gaze.
At the Gryffindor table, Sirius's face could have curdled milk.
James sat beside him, looking ready to charge over, but Lupin had a hand clamped on his arm. Lupin glanced their way with an apologetic look.
Regulus turned back, mouth quirking.
Eleanor's performance complete, she cracked up first.
She patted Regulus on the shoulder, perfectly satisfied. "Thanks, Regulus. Seeing that look on his face? I feel better already."
---
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