Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Si tamen acta deos numquam mortalia fallunt, / a culpa facinus scitis abesse mea.”

Yet if mortal actions never deceive the gods, / you know that crime was absent from my fault.

Regulus Arcturus Black was 14 years old when he first thought about killing his father.

The winter of 1975 had been unrelenting, the biting cold creeping in through the slits under the windows of Grimmauld Place, the ancestral home of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Its residents, a family colder than any winter could ever aspire to be, had been gathered in the drawing room.

The only thing Regulus could remember hearing was the crackling of the fireplace, the fire turning the rich, deep green colour of the Black family tapestry a venomous shade of orange. The faces of his ancestors had hung from the branches of the ancestry tree like rotting fruit, shifting into hideous grimaces under the flickering light, moving, twisting.

He had looked back at the fireplace in front of which his family had gathered in a half-circle. Why were they speaking? His father was saying something. What was it?

Regulus had looked down. Sirius had been lying on the floor, curled up. What on earth had he been doing? Had he gotten drunk and thrown a tantrum? He'd kept doing these things. Regulus had kept telling him not to, yet his brother would rather listen to people who had no idea what it was like to be a Black. Why had he listened to them?

His fists had clenched painfully behind his tense back. Regulus had looked at his father. He'd been hurting Sirius. Even years after, he couldn't piece together what had happened that night. But he remembered that his father had been hurting Sirius. His father had desecrated something that rightfully belonged to Regulus, and he’d have his head for it.

The next morning, Sirius had been gone.

Thick wads of smoke drifted lazily through the air. Regulus was lying on his back, content, staring at the ceiling. The warm September sun was shining in through the window above him. It was an unusual occurrence in their north-facing dorm, but the castle had always had its quirks.

He took another drag of his spliff and shifted to look over at the others. Evan was lying on his stomach on the opposite end of the bed, his eyes closed like a cat lazing in the sunlight. His tan skin was shining golden in the midday sun. Little water droplets from a shower still clung to the blond locs and framed his peaceful face.

Barty had curled up next to Regulus, resting on a pile of pristine white pillows. His head was lying on top of Regulus’ stomach, a spliff dangled from his lips while Regulus carded his fingers through Barty’s dark hair.

His fingers tingled as they brushed through the other boy’s curls, the sensation keeping him anchored. His entire body was numb, Regulus floating inside, barely contained. His eyes blinked lazily as he watched through them like one would through a window.

All the tension had bled out of his body, leaving his bones to slosh around like liquid. There was a light, fluttery feeling inside his chest. His heartbeat, maybe?

Evan hummed lightly, stretching out his hand. Regulus propped himself up on his forearms, ignoring Barty’s sound of protest, and handed him the joint. He let the cozy silence hang in the room for a few more moments before he broke it.

“I’m going to kill my father.”

Barty just snorted lightly: "Welcome to the club."

Regulus continued to stare at the ceiling. “No. I mean it.” His voice came out softer than intended, like the words were melting on his tongue. He heard the ruffling of sheets as Evan sat up.

"How?" Anticipation sounded in his voice like a silent promise.

Regulus contemplated in silence, his hand finding its way back into Barty's curls. He ignored the way sharp blue eyes bore into him.

“In a duel.”, he finally decided. “The old Lord of House Black against the new one.”

"Fair and square, huh…", came Evan's warm, deep voice from the opposite side of the bed. Regulus met his eyes and raised an eyebrow . The other boy thought for a moment, not once breaking eye contact, then shook his head.

“My old man will die, one way or the other. Couldn’t care less what way. As long as the bastard is finally wiped from earth.” He spat the words with newfound viciousness. His sudden shift in tone surprised Regulus. The pitiful old nutter would be lucky to have a quick death. Regulus grinned at the thought.

They turned their attention to Barty. He'd been the first to say such things, even if usually through tears after receiving yet another howler during their earlier years at Hogwarts. He took one last drag of his spliff, then flicked away the butt and grinned with too many teeth: “So glad you asked. Been ready to kill mine since year three.”

They fell into silence, quiet anticipation mixing in with smoke.

After a while, Evan spoke up again: “I’m not going to Azkaban for the bastard.”

“House Black needs a Lord.”, Regulus agreed.

Barty’s grin widened: ”I reckon we’ll be okay. Think of how many people have murdered and gotten away with it."

“So”, Barty’s eyes had taken on a familiar glint. “Let’s swear on it then.” he held out his little finger.

Without hesitation, Evan too stretched his pinkie out.

Regulus felt the corner of his mouth quirk upwards. He extended his own finger and interlocked it with the other two.

As the sun began to set, the three boys made their way down to the lake.

Groups of students sat scattered across the grass, relaxing in the sun or dipping their feet into the shallow water. Dragonflies flitted across the glittering surface, gracefully avoiding the tendrils of the giant squid curling playfully out of the water further into the lake.

Regulus spotted Dorcas and Pandora sitting in the shadow of a tree, right beside a patch of vibrant blue flowers. The boys walked up to them, circling around various groups of students. Out of the corner of his eye, Regulus noticed the disgusted look Evan sent their way.

Pandora finally saw them and waved, though it looked slightly awkward because she refused to let go of a bag of sugared almonds. She was a sight to behold as usual. The girl wore a bright yellow sundress, beneath which blue stockings with an eclectic pattern peeked out. Her shoes were lying next to her, a pair of trainers with embroidered sunflowers.

Beside her sat Dorcas, a dark figure cloaked in shadow next to Pandora’s bright appearance. She was sporting a blue argyle dress; her feet clad in a pair of delicate high-heeled mary janes. Her thick braids were pulled back into a ponytail and a book lay in her lap. The sophisticated look, however, was broken immediately by the giant, round sunglasses with pink lenses resting atop her nose. Regulus highly doubted they kept out much sun.

“What took you so long?”, Dorcas asked instead of a greeting, closing the book and chucking it on the pile next to her.

“Well obviously we were studying ahead, can’t let Sluggie down after he almost crawled up my arse because of the O.W.L results.”, Barty answered. Regulus smirked as he remembered Slughorn's breathless, almost worshiping praise of Barty’s twelve O.W.Ls last year.

Dorcas narrowed her eyes, then sniffed loudly and shot Regulus a look. He just shrugged, “I don’t know where you got the idea that I’m any better about pot than those two.”

He sat down against the tree and stretched his legs out. Without hesitation, Pandora shifted around and laid her head in his lap. Carefully, he tugged off the white piece of lace she’d wrapped around her head like a Russian babushka and started carding his fingers through her blonde braids. They looked different than usual. He picked one up and observed it.

Instead of braiding all the way down, she’d left out single strands here and there. Sometimes the entire end had been left out, which resulted in her hair looking like a mix of slim braids and long, curling strands of hair.

Pandora hummed lightly and closed her eyes. She’d applied different shades of blue and green around her eyelids, topped off with a glittery shimmer like the wings of dragonflies.

Barty turned towards Dorcas. “Nah, but seriously: What’s all this?”, he picked up a book from her pile, just to have it snatched out of his hand immediately.

“Absolutely not. Madam Pince is already miffed because I borrowed so many books. If any of you wankers get dirt on them, she’ll hunt me down and rip off my head.”

“What are those for anyway? It’s been a week; I doubt you’ve got that much homework.” Evan had snatched Pandora's bag and was digging in. He took one and threw it up, catching the almond between his teeth, all while dodging Pandora's attempt at getting it back and avoiding Barty's wandering hands.

Dorcas sighed, her exasperation only half fake: “The only reason I managed an E in Herbology last year was because of all the extra essays I did. This year, I don't have a chance at getting through that easily.”

Pandora perked up and stopped wrestling with Evan, which Regulus was unbelievably thankful for. Her knee had come uncomfortably close to his crotch quite a few times. "But it doesn’t matter what you get unless you're doing N.E.W.T in it.”

The group burst into laughter at Dorcas‘ rueful face.

“Don’t laugh!”, she shouted, waving her arms. She turned towards Regulus with a hopeful look on her face, but it immediately soured upon seeing his grin. With a groan, she dropped her head into her hands.

”Why in Salazar's name would you do that to yourself?", Regulus asked.

“You need Herbology to become an Auror. Well, you don’t need it, but it’s highly recommended, and with how limited spots at the academy are…”

“Why don’t you just pick a different job. Your grades are amazing otherwise, you could do pretty much anything.”, Barty had given up on trying to steal from Evan and laid on his back, face in the sun.

“That’s easy for you to say.”, she scoffed, “Worst case, you’ll get a cushy position at the ministry handed to you by Daddy dearest." She eyed him with a look in her eyes. Instead of jumping on the provocation, he grinned a shark-like smile: "Worst case, I'll be in Azkaban."

Dorcas‘ eyes wandered to Regulus‘ expression, then Evans‘.

“What‘s this about?” Dorcas asked wearily, furrowing her brows. After a beat of silence, Pandora piped up: “You‘re going to kill him, aren‘t you?”

Regulus eyed Dorcas. Pandora just… knowing certain things had been something they’d accepted in their first year, along with her rather unique ramblings on death. Dorcas, on the other hand, had always been more critical. He doubted she’d be on board.

„Yeah sure...“, Dorcas rolled her eyes and grabbed for the next book of her stack.

All eyes were on her as the silence stretched. Dorcas dropped the book with a shake of her head: „What do you guys want me to say here? You can‘t be serious.“

“Alright.” Barty sat up and held out his pinkie. „Deal?”

„Did you not hear me?“

„Well, are you in or out?“

Dorcas just stared at him, then at the other two boys.

„Sure.“, the sardonic undertone was hard to miss. „Let‘s commit a couple murders, lads. Whatever.“

„Grand“, Barty just grinned and shoved his hand, pinky still out, in her face. One after the other, they joined in, hooking their fingers into each other. Eventually, a weird, knot-like shape emerged.

Pandora hummed under her breath: “A rat king.”

They all looked at her in varying stages of confusion. “You mean like that one picture you have hanging over your bed at home?”, Evan asked.

“It’s when a bunch of rats get their tails tangled together and can’t get untied. Most of them die at the end, or muggles attempt to preserve them, and they go missing. The biggest one found was made up of 32 rats.” She explained while nodding.

Regulus’ eyebrows shot up: ”Muggles lost a bloody big pile of rats that were fused together by their tails?” Not unlikely, with their previous track-record.

“I think they actually kept that one.” Pandora shook her head: “But a lot of the ones they try to preserve end up going missing. It’s probably because the nargles like to feast on them."

“Guess we know how this is going to end then.” Dorcas muttered.

Chapter Text

Dorcas wanted to slam her head against a wall. She'd been sitting in the library for the better part of two hours, the stack of herbology books on her desk taunting her.

With a groan she shut Sub-Aquatic Botanical Mysteries, tossing the book away and grabbing another one off of the pile. “Winogrand’s Wondrous Water Plants”, she read out loud. Like clockwork, Mrs. Pince popped up behind a bookshelf, sending a stern “Shhhhh!” in Dorcas’s direction and disappearing again.

Even after the others had assured her that the librarian’s ability to appear seemingly out of nowhere was entirely non-magical (Barty had even offered to nick tracing material from his father’s work), she could never quite shake the feeling.

When she was younger, Dorcas would spend boring days in the library by imagining that Mrs. Pince was a character from a muggle comic. Her powers were teleportation, and when there was an emergency anywhere in Britain, her teammates only needed to hold a book and speak slightly above a whisper, and she'd appear.

Dorcas had been fascinated by comics from the first time her dad had brought home an X-Men comic from his relatives, and subsequently heartbroken when the series was cancelled only a year later.

Five years later, Dorcas had thought she’d outgrown her childish fascination. Until she’d walked past a store window and saw the first issue of the series’ revival. Her entire summer before fourth year was spent buying and reading every issue she could get her hands on, foraging between overstuffed shelves in the sickly-green light of Dark They Were and Golden Eyed for any story she hadn’t read yet.

At the end of the summer, she’d had absolutely no money left and a whole stack of letters from her friends she hadn’t answered yet.

Forcing her thoughts back on track, Dorcas flipped open the book. Mrs. Pince was going to have a stroke.

The very first page was absolutely covered in scribbles. Looking closer, Dorcas discovered that what she'd thought were random lines and loops were actually writing. It looked like somebody had tried to write in runes, with their weak hand, while blindfolded. She squinted, trying to decipher the meaning.

“See p.34 for multicellular algae, orig. chapter is shit”

“Fuck Selina Snapworthy, read Hadrian Whittle for toad-eating plants”

“Gillyweed on p.102”

Quickly, Dorcas flipped to page 102. There, next to the text on fanwort, somebody had scrawled a paragraph on gillyweed.

“Gives user gills and webbing between fingers & toes. Do not confuse with fanworth- GW looks like rattails. Can be used in potion, gillywater or raw.”

Pushing aside the other books littering her desk, she pulled out a piece of parchment and hurriedly scribbled down the explanation. Why couldn’t Professor Sprout just explain shite like this? When Dorcas had said that all plants looked the same underwater and asked how to differentiate gillyweed, the professor had gone off on a long-winded explanation about "feeling the peculiar texture" and "examining where it took root". What was that even supposed to mean? Every single plant Dorcas had touched (been forced to touch, ew) had been equally slimy and stank of fish.

She needed to find whoever had owned the book and get them to tutor her. She scanned over the chaos of writing that littered both the first and the last page, until she finally found what seemed to be a name, squeezed into the lower corner.

Martin McKailon? McKeilan? How in Salazar's name did this person get to sixth year? Most professors would give a T on any exam for how illegible the writing was. 'Year 6 76/77' stood next to it. One of the seventh years, then. A Hufflepuff, most likely, or maybe a Ravenclaw.

Dorcas stood up, disposing of the stack of books that had been haunting her, only taking Winogrand’s Wondrous Water Plants with her. Apparently, she had a chance to pass Herbology after all.

---

"I'm just saying, if he doesn't show up, you should just skive off and hang out at the forest edge with us." Barty's voice echoed off the empty stone walls.

Blue moonlight shone in from the towering windows and illuminated the otherwise dark hallway. Regulus and Barty were sitting on a windowsill, knees pressed together, a fag in each of Barty's hands. He took turns smoking them, always looking at the one in his other hand in slight surprise before taking a drag.

Regulus shook his head. "I'm not sacrificing access to the prefects’ bubble bath just to hang out with you tossers in a wet, cold forest."

Barty shoved him lightly, gasping in mock offense: "You're such a posh arsehole."

"I wasn't the one in first year that asked when our rooms were gonna get cleaned by the elves."

They were interrupted by a clacking sound echoing down the hall.

Remus Lupin turned the corner. His cane hit the floor rhythmically, his left leg dragging behind lightly. The Gryffindor greeted them with a nod.

Before Barty could open his mouth, Regulus had hopped down from the window and stretched out a hand. "Lupin. I don't think we've ever had the pleasure of speaking to each other, though I've heard lots of good about you." he gave his warmest smile. Barty, beside him, snickered.

Lupin seemed surprised but shook his hand nonetheless: "Likewise."

“Oi, aren’t you supposed to be all sneaky while you‘re patrolling?” Barty chimed in.

"Barty, don't be a bitch." Regulus hissed.

Lupin looked less than impressed: "What? What are you even talking about?"

Barty explained: “Well, if a bloke was having a fag over at the window and heard you bangin’ down the hallway, he wouldn’t exactly go say high, he’d leg it.”

Regulus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Barty's obvious attempts to strip off his RP were downright embarrassing in front of others.

Luckily, the older boy didn‘t even bother with a response, just sent Barty a look that showed exactly what he thought of him.

Regulus glared at Barty behind Lupin's back: "You better hurry, curfew starts in ten minutes. Wouldn't want to catch you wandering around the castle."

Barty’s grin only grew: “You’ll need to walk me. What if someone tries to kidnap little ol’ me while I’m all alone and vulnerable?”, he batted his eyelashes.

“Somebody would need to want you for that to be an issue.”, Regulus snapped, quickly losing his patience.

"Figure I'll leave you two to it then." Barty jumped off the windowsill and disappeared into the dark corridor. An unusually quick exit for Barty. If he fucked this up for Regulus, he'd strangle the boy in his sleep. Bad enough that his partner for prefect patrol this entire year was going to be Lupin. He might as well get what he could out of it.

"Let's get a move on, then?" Regulus fought to school his features back into a friendly expression and nodded at Lupin.

They started walking. The first hour they spend patrolling in complete silence. Regulus had no idea whether Lupin found it to be comfortable or awkward. The lack of knowledge grated on his nerves like a nail file, and he was close to breaking it a few times. Despite the temptation, he kept quiet.

It didn't take much observation skills to find out that Lupin was by far the quietest member of Sirius' posse. Regulus needed to go about this carefully, so he didn't end up spooking the older boy before he could prove himself useful.

Regulus blocked out the paranoid thoughts, pushing down his nervousness and instead focusing on their surroundings. They were - once again- walking through an empty corridor, coming close to the entrance of the large bridge. He mentally counted down things he could hear. It wasn't a lot; the castle was quiet beside their steps, the rustling of their cloaks, and the ever-present howling of the wind.

A realization hit him. He stilled for a moment, causing Lupin to stop walking as well, and looked down at the cane.

“Enchanted it to keep silent. Simple muffliato.", Lupin shared.

"That's … very interesting."

"Sure is… interesting." the amusement was evident in Lupin's voice. Regulus had to bring up all his strength to avoid snapping at him.

“Sorry for Barty, by the way.”, Regulus said instead.

"Don't exactly got a say over what he does, you don't have to be sorry."

Regulus shook his head, insistent: “I try to keep from doing something stupid without thinking is like trying to keep a mandrake quiet.”

"Oh yeah, I know what that's like." That's the only reason Regulus had even brought it up. "I'm not exactly surprised, his… reputation precedes him."

Regulus smiled along: “He’s a lot calmer when you get to know him. Just a bit spikey.”

"Some people like that are." Lupin nodded.

People like Regulus’ brother. The brother Lupin and the rest of his fucking band of cunts stole. Acidic rage bubbled up in Regulus’ chest. He pushed it down, biting his cheek.

“Do you mind?” Lupin asked suddenly. They’d stopped atop the bridge. The wind howled between the arched openings, tousling his hair.

Regulus looked at Lupin, then down to the hand he was holding up. A single cigarette was hanging between his fingers. "Not really."

“Not really?”, Lupin arched a brow.

"Not if you're sharing."

Lupin seemed surprised, but didn't say a word as he pulled out another one.

Regulus took it between his teeth and accepted fire from the other boy with a muffled “Thanks”.

They didn’t speak again that night.

Chapter Text

"Thank you so much, have a lovely evening.", Dorcas smiled at the seventh year as he retreated into the Ravenclaw common room. She sighed and turned back to walk along the empty corridor.

She'd asked around among both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff seventh years, yet none of them had ever heard of a Martin, nor did there seem to be any boys with a strong talent in herbology.

Not only had her search been fruitless, it had also resulted in a rumour that she was looking to date somebody with an O in herbology.

Every morning, she was bombarded by owls dropping letters on her. She regularly found seemingly misplaced grade sheets slipped into her books and bag, with little hearts circling the O behind herbology. One time a girl had even folded her sheet into a paper plane and thrown it at Dorcas from across the moving stairs, while the staircase was moving in the opposite direction. Quite impressive, to be honest, but Dorcas wasn’t interested either way.

Asking Professor Sprout it was, then. Dorcas frowned. It wasn't like she actively disliked the professor; the woman was an absolute darling, but she had this tendency to go off on barely related tangents and never getting to the bloody point. Dorcas would have to hurry up if she wanted to get anything useful out of the woman before curfew.

She rounded a corner while speedwalking -the maximum speed she could walk at in heeled loafers- and promptly ran into someone. Both of them fell on their arses, books flying everywhere.

Dorcas scampered up, frantically dusting off the dark green vest she wore over her neatly pressed uniform shirt.

“Got your priorities straight, don’t you, sweetheart?” a voice with a (very charming) Irish lilt mocked. Dorcas’ head snapped up to glare at the person in front of her. Marlene McKinnon, one of Sirius’ posse.

Dorcas looked her up and down – undone tie, shirt untucked with the top buttons open, badly bleached hair- and decided to forego an answer to the obvious dig. That outfit was insult enough. Instead, she settled on: "Don't call me that. I'd rather have to clean shit out the Owlery than be your sweetheart."

The other girl raised her eyebrows, clearly surprised at the strong reaction. Dorcas, too, knew that it wasn’t exactly warranted; the two of them had never talked to each other after all. But sue her, she was having a shit day. Plus, McKinnon was a friend of Regulus‘ brother, so loyalties and whatever...

"That's a shame, since you've been looking for me and all."

Dorcas frowned at her: “Why on earth would I be looking for you?”

"I heard through the grapevine you were on the pull for a herbology ace. And-", she bent down, grinning, and snatched Winogrand’s Wondrous Water Plants off the floor. "You even dug out my old book, you little stalker."

“What?”, Dorcas made a grab for the book, but McKinnon held it out of her reach. “That’s not yours, it belongs to some Martin lad.”

McKinnon flipped open the first page and pointed at the corner: "Yeah no, it says 'Marlene' here. Pretty clear, you'd think."

Dorcas squinted at the writing. It could be read as saying ‘Marlene’, if you took a lot of creative liberty and ignored the fact that multiple letters were missing. “Nothing,”, Dorcas stressed the word to its limits "About this is 'clear'. Did you write this with a bloody broomstick, or what?"

McKinnon pulled back and looked at the demonic chicken scratch that covered the page: "It really isn't that bad." The offense was clear in her voice. "Plus, I doubt yours looks much better."

„Is that a hill you‘re willing to die on?“

„Not really, and it‘s not the point anyway. You’re the one that won that... award in DA last year, don‘t remember what it was called.”

The Alberta Toothill Award for Young Duellists, thank you very much, Dorcas thought. "Sure?" What on earth was she playing at?

"Well, as it happens, I need a wee bit of help in DA, so I figured we might help each other out?", McKinnon was grinning again, tilting her head.

Dorcas crossed her arms and squinted at the Gryffindor. On one hand, if McKinnon wasn’t just having her on, this might be Dorcas’s chance to pass herbology without sacrificing her sanity. On the other hand, Regulus might actually have her head for consorting with the enemy.

With the memory of despairing in the library every night for the past weeks, Dorcas decided that Regulus would just have to deal with it. She could probably make an argument about keeping your enemies close.

“Okay.”, Dorcas said.

McKinnon made a sound of surprise.

“What? Did you expect me to fistfight you over it?”

“I mean…verbally at least?”

They stared at each other for a quiet moment.

“Would you like me to?”

A smug grin. “No, actually, this is grand.”

---

Soft green light flooded the Slytherin common room. It fell in through the massive, arched windows, giving a view directly into the Black Lake. As impervious as its dark depths seemed from the surface, down here - far below where any sunlight could reach- the lake's ground was littered with bioluminescent plants, illuminating their surroundings in a turquoise glow.

Inside the common room, the brightness was kept to a minimum. The only light was emitted by sporadic lamps on the coffee- and side tables, their lampshades dimmed to keep the glow contained.

The unusual lighting arrangement was both to make sure the windows didn't reflect and the students inside could view outside, but also to keep from agitating any of the inhabitants of the lake.

Inhabitants such as the figure floating gracefully outside the window, blurred by the water's diffusive glow. The merperson was swimming at the upper edge of the arch, carefully plucking off the yellow-leafed heads of flowers growing on the brick and stashing them away in a little sachet.

„Evan,“ Regulus murmured, „Regarde.“

The other boy looked up from his sketchbook. He was sitting next to Regulus on the couch, Barty‘s legs in his lap. Immediately, his eyes latched onto the merperson.

Silently, Regulus studied the gleam in Evan‘s dark eyes. He turned back to the window. „What kind of plants are those?“, he asked, still in French.

„Bladderwort,“, Evan mumbled in English, clearly reciting. „Or Utricularia. They‘re one of the few carnivorous plants that grow underwater. Instead of roots, they have long, thin stems that carry hair-like growths along multiple round traps called 'bladders'. They trap and digest single-cell organisms.“

The merperson glided over to the other side of the window, moving with only the flick of its tail.

„Imagine being able to breathe underwater.“, Regulus leaned back, gears in his mind turning.

He watched as Evan opened up another page, eyes transfixing on the merperson again. His pencil flew across the paper, capturing the soft curling of their hair and the strong line of their tail as they held themselves upright in the water.

An ear-piercing screeching erupted behind them. The sudden noise startled the merperson, and with a single thrust of its tail, it disappeared into the foggy green of the lake.

Evan spun around, clenching his fist around the pencil hard enough to make it creak.

A gaggle of fourth-year girls was standing around a desk, littered with stacks of books and rolls of parchment. One of them was furiously dabbing around on a massive black stain on her blouse, while the others fussed around her, trying to contain the spilled ink with hankies or ripping their schoolwork off the desk. All the while, they were giggling like this was the highlight of their week, a shrill and obnoxious sound that bounced through the spacious room.

Out of the corner of his eye, Regulus saw Barty swing his legs off of Evan, whose face twisted in anger. Regulus barely caught the flick of Barty’s wand, before the screeching started back up.

He twisted back around to see that the ink had turned into snakes, winding and writhing around on the table before making their way promptly over to the girls. A few of the liquid reptiles dropped over the table's edge and landed on the ground with a disgusting squelch, before winding around the girls' ankles, painting their white socks in black stains.

The snakes still on the table had taken to spitting ink on them. Some even curled up and catapulted themselves onto their victims.

One of the snakes landed on the head of a girl and promptly broke down into liquid again, covering her carefully styled curls in goopy, thick ink. Almost on command, she broke into hysterical sobs, turning on her heel and bolting out of the room. Her friends soon followed after her, still attempting to shake off the inky assault.

Once the doors had slammed shut, the room broke into barely hushed whispers. Some Slytherins giggled and pointed, imitating the girls trying to shake off the snakes, while others shot the now deserted desk pitying looks. A few even went over to, attempting to clean and rescue what was left of the girls’ homework.

Regulus turned around to face Barty, eyebrows raised.

The other boy just grinned, sharp enough to make Regulus taste blood: "You're welcome, my pleasure. Oh? Blimey! No, you don't have to do my homework for a week; that's too kind. What? You want to show me your gratefulness by making passionate, fiery love to me until the next full moon? Well, I surely wouldn't mind-“ Evan interrupted him by tossing a pillow in his face, clearly attempting to bite back a smile.

Regulus, too, grinned to himself.

Evan stopped his assault: “Until the next full moon? Are you planning to huff that stuff in the back of the greenhouses, or how would that work?”

Barty threw his head back and barked out a laugh. “Well, I was thinking every night, but if you insist-“

„If you‘re going to start snogging, at least warn me.“, Regulus cut in.

„So you can make sure to get a good look?“

„Obviously.“

His friends laughed along, but were interrupted. Regulus asked: „Are there any transformation spells that the ministerium can‘t track?“

Evan frowned in confusion.

„You said,“ he nodded at Barty „That the ministerium can track any kind of apparating, and wands can be analyzed for the spells last performed with them, right?“

„I mean yeah, pretty much. So if you‘re looking for something that can‘t be traced, you‘ll have to switch wands. No matter the spell, really.“

„For transformations, couldn‘t you just take potions?“, Evan asked.

„Potions intended for transformation take a lot of effort to brew, and the effect can‘t be reversed quickly.“

„Animagi.“, Evan suggested, lowering his voice. „Takes a while to get there, but once you’ve mastered it, you can transform like this“, he snapped his fingers, „And nobody will even know you‘ve been there.“

Regulus looked at him, a grin slowly spreading on his face. Evan smiled back, sharing a nod with Barty.

Regulus watched as the last student exited the row he was sitting in. Between the endless rows of books, he could see the shine of a lone lamp through the darkness of the library.

Impatient, he looked at the wristwatch lying atop his stack of books. With each second he stared at it, the hands seemed to slow down. Fifteen minutes till eight.

Next to him, Barty was balancing on the hind legs of his chair, trying to make the it stand on its own. He kept failing, losing balance and falling forwards, sending echoing bangs down desolate alleyways of bookshelves. After a particularly harsh fall and resulting „Shh!“ from the librarian, Regulus gave him a harsh kick to the shin. Barty frowned and slouched down further in his chair. Regulus just rolled his eyes and gave the watch another look- ten until eight.

He got up and grabbed his pile of books. The top one, he slid off and shoved in between Disillusionment and Disappointment – Detecting Disguises and An Illiterate’s Guide to Aperacium.

Barty scrambled up and after im. Silently, they made their way through wooden archways and past book carts moving on their own.

The plan was fairly simple- he and Barty waited in the library until right before closing time, then left behind one of the books they‘d been pretending to study with. They‘d exit the library, giving Evan a chance to slip in under a disillusionment charm. Evan would then make his way to the forbidden section, invisible and without any possible witnesses around, to find The Mastery in Uagadou – Animagi and other transformations‘. Ten minutes after closing, Barty and Regulus would come back to retrieve their forgotten book. Madame Pince would let them in, and Evan could leave with them once they got the book.

They arrived at the library entrance and Barty kicked the door open. He turned around to throw a cheery wave towards Mrs. Pince, who was sitting at her counter, glaring daggers at him. For barely a second, Regulus felt something brush past him. Without another word, he turned around and let the door fall close.

Barty leaned against the stone wall and slid down, planting himself on the ground. „Did he get in?“. He looked up at Regulus.

„Yeah, I felt the sign he gave me at the entrance.“

Barty snorted and wriggled his eyebrows „Entrance.“

„Seriously?“, Regulus send him a look.

„Oh come on, it‘s a little funny.“

„Sure“, Regulus drawled out „You‘re a proper comedian.“

„You know you love me.“, Barty grinned.

Regulus leaned against the wall next to him.

Barty kicked his feet, eyes wandering around the empty corridor. He fiddled with his wand, summoning little flames at the end. With an exasperated sigh, he let his head fall against the wall „How long still?“.

Regulus looked down at him: „Seriously?“

„It‘s totally been ten minutes already. Let‘s just knock.“

„If we‘re too early Evan will be locked in the entire night.“

„He can make himself comfortable under the tables?“, Barty suggested.

„You‘re like a fucking child, you know that?“

Barty just grinned.

„You‘re gonna survive five minutes of sitting still.“, Regulus checked his watch: „Two, actually.“

Barty jumped up and got in position at the door. With one last look, Regulus confirmed that the library had been closed for ten minutes exactly. He gave Barty a nod. Barty knocked at the door: „Excuse me miss? I‘m afraid I forgot my book. Would you be so kind and let an unfortunate feller in?“ Regulus felt himself leaning forwards, straining to hear something. Noting.

Barty knocked again, this time banging his fist against the door. He opened his mouth to say something, but didn‘t get that far.

The door flew open, knocking him square off his feet.

“THE LIBRARY CLOSES AT EIGHT!”, a screech from the depths of the library sounded out, right before the door slammed shut again.

“What on earth? Fucking nutter.”, Regulus heard Barty mutter to himself. They shared a look. „Better hope the floor of the library is real comfortable.“, Regulus remarked.

„That‘s all you have to say?“ A voice came from behind them.

They both whirled around to see Evan standing behind them, a bright grin showing off his slightly crooked front teeth.

“You made it!”, Barty shouted, throwing his arms around Evan’s shoulders, making them both stumble. The three fell into step next to each other, Barty’s arm still slung around Evan and Regulus on the other side.

Regulus leaned in, lowering his voice: “You got it?”

Evan pulled his cloak back to expose the square shape tucked under his cream-coloured jumper.

Barty squealed and pulled Evan in closer, placing a loud, sloppy kiss on his cheek: “Rosie-boy, you are a fucking ledge.”

Chapter Text

Pandora and Dorcas were walking down the hill towards the Quidditch pitch, their arms interlinked. All around them, other students were bustling, decked out in red and green attire. Their chatter and laughs filled the air. It was a chilly October day, the fiery red and orange of the falling leaves cutting through the gray of the cloudy sky. A cold breeze followed them down the hill, and Dorcas regretted not pulling on woolen tights beneath her leg warmers.

“Do you think we look like a trail of ants to them?”, Pandora asked, craning her neck and looking up towards the crows circling above them. Dorcas didn’t, more focused on getting them both down the hill without Pandora blindly tripping over a rock or one of the tiny, non-identifiable fairy folk flitting around their feet.

She pulled both her scarf and Pandora tighter for more warmth. The other girl was also wearing a Slytherin scarf, as was common for her. “Probably. Some of them might not even see us if they’re above the clouds.”

Pandora hummed: “Right, you mentioned that. When muggles fly into space, they can’t look under the clouds, right?”

“Yeah, but you don’t need to go all the way to space for that. If you fly on an airplane, sometimes you look out the window and it looks like you’re in an ocean of clouds.”

“I think I want to go on one of those air-plate things when I’m older. I could try to get a picture to show Evie. I don’t think he’d fancy flying very much.”

Both of them looked over their shoulders to where Evan and Barty were walking, heads stuck together. In their own little world, as always. The girls shared a knowing look.

“Want to go to my dorm after?”, Dorcas asked. “Regardless of who wins, my dormmates will be too busy trying to get a snog from whoever scored well this game, so they won’t be there until like 3 a.m.”

“You still have to show me that piece you wrote during break.”, Pandora mentioned, a knowing smile already on her lips. Dorcas groaned.

“But it’s shite! It’s really no good, Pan, why can’t we wait until I write something actually decent? It’s just gonna sound like a goat being murdered.” She didn’t even have to look at Pan to know that that last sentence had convinced her to keep pressing.

“Well, maybe that’s the artist’s intent, you know? A goat’s murder as a dire commentary on the fickle nature of life. La Mort de la Chèvre – Une sonate d’une grande trivialité by Dorcas Meadows on violin.”

Dorcas grinned at her friend: “Promise me you’ll do all the announcing when I’m a famous violinist traveling the world?”

Pandora’s bubbling laugh was infectious, and the two girls giggled all the way to the pitch.

They made their way over to the stands for the audience. Down the wooden benches stretched a sea of green.  Over to the left, the neighbouring stand was filled with viewers decked out in red. Even though the game hadn’t even begun yet, the air was filled with shouts, alternating between cheering for the own team, insults thrown at the other one, respectively, or just normal conversations that attempted to be heard through the cacophony of noise.

Dorcas spotted McKinnon in the red mass, and right next to her, the fiery hair of Lily Evans. McKinnon, too, spotted Dorcas, threw her a cheery wave, and blew a kiss. Dorcas waved back, rolling her eyes.

“How was the first lesson?”

Dorcas flinched hard at Pandora's voice right behind her. She hadn’t forgotten that the other girl was there; Dorcas just hadn’t expected her to speak directly into her ear. It was something she’d never get used to - Pandora's ability to silently appear at any given moment.

“I mean, it was a bit awkward, but she’s bloody good at what she’s doing, so it’s grand.”, Dorcas shrugged. Pandora hummed, staring at Dorcas with her large, glassy eyes.

No, not at her. She was staring through her, like she was seeing something no one else could.

Dorcas turned away. She didn’t particularly want to hear about whatever Pan’s odd mind had cooked up now. She really wasn’t a fan of divination, and while she didn’t doubt her friend’s natural gift, she already struggled to understand Pan’s ramblings about various odd dreams.

Talking about snakes and rats and strange men with moths in the woods. A magpie, beak digging deep in the guts of a snake while being strangled by it.

---

“Alright, lads and ladies, first game in the season. Let’s get that cup.” Lucinda Talkalot announced in the changing rooms.

The rest of the quidditch team stayed quiet for a minute after she finished, then broke into applause when they realized that was all they were going to get. Regulus didn’t understand how their team still hadn’t clocked that Talkalot didn’t live up to her name. Quite the contrary.

They were still used to Emma Vanity’s passionate, commanding, borderline preaching speeches from two years ago. No luck here. Although Regulus himself didn’t miss it. He appreciated Talkalot’s way with little words.

Neil Lament Jr., a boy with blonde poofy hair, slapped his hand on Regulus’ shoulder: “Good luck out there, Black. We’re counting on you, mate.”

“Gonna need more skill than luck out there, lads. Try not to get your arse beat by the lions.”, Duncan Ashe jumped in, giving Regulus’ shoulder a friendly shove.

Regulus gave them his friendliest grin while suppressing the urge to burn off his skin: “Good luck to you, too, Lament. Ashe, just try not to fly into a badger for once, alright?”

“Yeah yeah, sod off.”, Ashe laughed, then slunk away. The team moved into position, the dusty, stuffy air of the locker room stifling under the fog of anticipation.

Regulus watched as small particles flew around in front of him, glinting in the sunlight like sparks. He felt his focus drift from the nervous chattering of his teammates and zeroed in on the tiny flames in front of him.

Suddenly, he could feel his own heartbeat under his fingertips, feel the smooth sensation of the quidditch cloak around his neck. The sensations bloomed open like flowers, a million colours on one page, yet never melting together, every petal razor sharp in his mind. Vaguely, he noted that the front doors opened.

Regulus shot out onto the pitch, taking up his position near Talkalot. The thrill of the whistle sounded, and the entire pitch broke into a blur of movement.

Regulus immediately shot upwards and started circling, eyes shooting around for that little glint of gold. He vaguely noted Sirius below him but lost the figure quickly. The sound of shouting and applause was deafening, even from far up. Regulus was tempted to look for his friends in the crowd, but willed himself to focus.

He continued flying rounds, spectating the game from above. His eyes followed the Gryffindor seeker, who was doing the same just slightly below him.

Goal after goal was shot. Even though Slytherin was currently in the lead, Regulus felt the stress settle into his bones. He gnawed on his lip, eyes frantically darting around. Nothing. He couldn’t find the snitch. This far into the game, and he hadn’t seen it even once. His knuckles turned white under the force with wich he was gripping his broom.

Suddenly, he saw it. Just in the corner of his eye, a little glint. Without thinking further, Regulus pushed his broom down and shot towards it.

Next to him, the Gryffindor seeker kept pace.

They were racing, only inches apart, towards the ground. There, right in front of him. He could see the snitch flitting around.

Regulus pushed forward on his broom. Only a few more feet.

He stretched out his hand, ready to grab the snitch-

It closed around nothing.

Regulus swirled around, almost being flung off his broom in the process. There, only a few feet from him, was the Gryffindor seeker. His outstretched hand was clasped around a pair of golden wings.

The noise was deafening, hitting Regulus like a brick wall. Just like the badger that slammed into him

The next thing he knew, Regulus was staring up at the sky. He had a second to register the swift change before his back met the floor and every last bit of air was knocked out of him. He coughed roughly a few times, trying to catch his breath, but it wasn’t working.

Regulus grasped at his throat, attempting to suck in air. His lungs had deflated, allowing no air in. He rolled onto his stomach, trying to get his legs below him. Curled up, protecting his organs.

He gargled and wheezed as his vision started to blur. It felt like every single one of his ribs had cracked and was stabbing into his lungs.

Vaguely, registered hands grabbing him, trying to turn him over, but Regulus curled up tighter.

The hands disappeared. He didn’t know how long it had been, but suddenly, his lungs filled with air again. Regulus gasped, drinking in air. He lowered his head. Heaving to shook his body.

He leaned forward and started retching.

Regulus opened his eyes reluctantly.

He was staring up at the towering ceiling of the medical wing.

Rain had started pelting against the large windows. Further into the infirmary, somebody shut a door. Regulus could hear the murmur of students bustling around outside.

After his fall, he’d been brought to the medical wing. Madame Pomfrey had given him a sleeping drought so she could… do whatever she needed to. Regulus honestly hadn’t been able to take in much. The way to the infirmary was a disorienting blur, and even after he’d been given a healing potion for his bones, the memories continued to melt together like an unappetizing sludge.

Regulus’ stomach turned, and he prayed to the gods he wouldn’t throw up again. He didn’t want to hear about vomiting ever again.

He shifted slightly, flexing and relaxing his muscles. Every inch of him hurt like he’d been trampled by a hippogriff, but at least everything seemed to work.

Next to him, he noticed a pile of sweets. The sickly sugary smell crawled into his nose, and he felt the bile rising up in his throat. He flung himself to the other side of the bed and leaned over the edge. For a good minute, he could do nothing but dry heave loudly.

From the other side of the medical wing sounded the clacking of small heels. Madame Pomfrey, seemingly alarmed by the noise, hurried over to him. “Glad to see you’ve woken up. How are you feeling?”

Regulus grimaced slightly, then carefully lowered himself back onto the bed. “Manageable. Thank you, Madame.”, he cracked a smile.

The nurse nodded, pulling out a clipboard and feather. She fired off a row of questions, made him count her fingers and lift his arms. Afterwards, she nodded, obviously satisfied, and shoved the board and feather back into the front pocket of her apron.

“You were lucky the bludger hit you sideways. A bit more to the front and most of your ribcage would’ve been broken.” Great, he really needed to hear that right now.

“So I didn’t break anything?”, he furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Oh no, you did, but it was less than what could have been. Your upper left arm, two left ribs, and you got a nasty concussion when you fell. I managed to set everything, and the healing drought seems to have done a phenomenal job. You’ll need to stay here for a few more days and take these.” She set down two bottles next to him. "Just for observation, and to make sure nothing shifts back out of place due to strain.

I’ll make sure your teachers are informed. In the meantime, would you like to be open for visitations?” She pointed at the stack of sweets, cards, and flowers on the table next to him. “I’ve had to shoo away at least three different groups from camping out at the door. It’s a wonder how much energy quidditch teams put into trying to get visitation, even after all these years.”

Regulus nodded quickly: “Yes, of course. I’m very sorry Madame.”

The nurse gave him a warm smile and bid him a good rest.

Once she’d left, Regulus turned towards the stack next to him and started going through the gifts. Throwing all this bloody garbage away would be so annoying. He wouldn’t even be able to do it immediately since some of these people might come see him again. He’d need to write a few letters.

He picked out the cards, shoving away whatever they were attached to it. A thrill went through him as he read over the cards. Not the empty phrases and rubbish, but the names written underneath. Each of them had a face behind them – a little person taking time out of their day to show their devotion. Most of the names didn’t tell him anything, especially those that had little hearts drawn on the card.

But it didn’t matter. If they were to meet, every single one of those people would fall over themselves to give him what he wanted.

Regulus set aside the current card onto the little stack that had formed. He reached for the next card and stilled as he read the name: “R.J. Lupin” was written in scratchy handwriting. He went back and read the text. It was a short, polite wish to get well soon.

Regulus turned the card around in his hands. It was a simple folded card made of paper, with the outside painted as a dark sky, filled with star constellations that glittered as he moved it.  

His gaze fell on the regulus in the Leo constellation. He ran his thumb over the star as if he was trying to wipe dirt off of it. Suddenly, something fell out of the card into his lap – a cigarette. Regulus felt the corner of his mouth twitch. He looked closer. No obvious pockets or anything. He ran his finger over the little star again. Another cigarette fell into his lap, seemingly from nowhere.

The sound of footsteps erupted from the entrance.

Regulus, still hidden by the large room dividers posted up beside him, shoved the card along with the cigarettes under his pillow.

“Reggie my man!”, Barty’s voice bellowed through the large room, bouncing around underneath the high cathedral ceiling.  Regulus could almost feel Madame Pomfrey’s glare, and it actually managed to shut Barty up until him and the others had made it over to Regulus’ bed.

“Looking good, mate. A bit banged up, though.” Barty grinned at him. The other boy climbed up on the foot end of Regulus’ bed like an unruly lapdog. His other friends settled around him. Pandora, too, perched on his bed, though much softer than Barty had. Evan and Dorcas both pulled chairs by.

“As you can see, I’m managing.”, Regulus responded dryly.

“Let’s hope that swelling goes down, or your army of admirers might lose interest.”, Evan gestured towards his face while poking warily at a particularly obnoxious bouquet of orange lilies and red tulips. Regulus grabbed the pocket mirror Dorcas silently handed him and took a look.

His face was, in fact, swollen to shit. He had a black eye and a row of scratches littering the right side of his face, which had seemingly doubled in size.

“They won’t.”, Regulus dismissed. He handed back the mirror to Dorcas.

“Humble as always. How lucky that concussion didn’t reset your personality to something a bit nicer.” she remarked.

“I can be plenty nice. And you know it wouldn’t put them off. If anything, having my face fucked up heroically during quidditch is the best thing to happen. If I never wanted to be left in peace again, that is.”

That earned a row of chuckles.

“Well, if I was part of your little fan club, I’d hand in my resignation.”, Evan grinned.

“That’s why I’m gifting you those,” Regulus pointed at the stack of candies. “Consider it a bribe.”

“Not fair!”, Pandora complained as Evan scooped the pile off the table into his lap with one swipe. Barty too gasped in mock offense, but quickly crawled over to snatch a bag of chocolate frogs.

“Split up what you don’t want, just get it out of my face.”, Regulus waved off.

“Aww, you know how to charm a simple gal like me.”, Barty swooned in his best American accent and batted his eyelashes.

“Of course I do, darling.”, Regulus responded. He heard Barty choke beside him. „So you do know how to shut up. Grand.“

“He deserves a thank you,”, Pandora suddenly piped in. Regulus shot her a quizzical look. “He was the first one of us down at the pitch with us and got you to breathe.”

“Pan…”, Barty was oozing soppy happiness.

“Also he yelled ‘score’ when that bludger hit you.”

Regulus glared at Barty, who simply grinned back at him. He turned to the others: “So everybody saw that, huh?”

Dorcas nodded: “Obviously. Took a second to realize what happened though. Most-” She cut herself off. Regulus gestured for her to continue, but she didn’t.

“Most of us thought you caught the snitch and before we realized you didn't, you were already flying off your broom.”, Pandora finished Dorcas’ sentence. The others nodded along.

Regulus ground his teeth. Couldn’t the bludger at least have hit him a few seconds before he was set to fail? Then he wouldn’t have to recover from both the shame of a failure and broken bones. In front of everyone. With both his bastard of a brother and the dirty little thief on the field alongside.

He stared at his blanked, paying no mind to the hesitant conversation that continued around him. Somebody asked something, said his name. He didn‘t answer. He wanted them to get the fuck out of his face. Why couldn‘t they just leave him alone? He didn‘t want to talk.

Chapter Text

When October came around, it brought rain with it. The weeks leading up to the 31st had been marked by nonstop downpour, moisture creeping in through cracks in the ancient walls and windows. There had been multiple incidents of students pulling out their homework just to discover the fragile parchment had gotten wet and started to disintegrate. The water fountain in the courtyard now regularly hosted a gaggle of toads that were rumoured to be students that had attempted to return library books with water damage.

On the morning of Samhain 1977, Regulus was woken up by yelling. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, only to be hit flat in the face by ice-cold water. The yelling stopped.

Slowly, he opened his eyes to see Evan and Barty standing near the window with matching guilty looks on their faces. The window was wide open. It had been the whole night, judging by the large wet spot that had formed on Evan’s bed underneath it. Barty had his wand out, apparently having tried to levitate the water off the bed.

Regulus narrowed his eyes for a second, then leaped out of bed and shot towards Barty, wand in hand. Barty squawked and bolted towards the door.

An hour later, the three boys made their way towards breakfast. Students turned around and snickered quietly as Barty trudged behind the other two, his shoes squelching with every step and his hair dripping wet.

The rain was still pelting against the windows. Everything outside looked dull and grey, like a photograph. The corridors, however, were lit in the orange glow of Jack-o-Lanterns. Every candleholder mounted on the walls now held a small, grinning pumpkin instead of a candle. Bowls of sweets floated down the hallways towards the common rooms, catapulting rock-hard licorice at anyone who tried to pinch a piece. On multiple corners, they encountered talking skulls that posed them riddles and got incredibly offended when the boys declined a try to answer.

While Samhain had always been celebrated in a rather extravagant way in Hogwarts, even being a dedicated day free of school, this get-up was even more intense than usual. To cheer up the students, Regulus guessed. With political tensions rising as the Dark Lord reached for power, Professor Dumbledore would be hard-pressed not to act. Maybe it was a kind of propaganda to keep the students under his influence through positive reinforcement.

Regulus smiled grimly at the thought. The headmaster had direct control over the entire youth of Britain’s wixen world, yet he was incapable of stopping the Dark Lord from rallying more and more people behind him.

Dorcas and Pandora weren't at the breakfast table yet when the three boys arrived. They sat, and Barty immediately started shoveling scrambled egg onto his plate, ignoring Evan's complaints that he was dripping everywhere. Regulus took a few measured breaths, getting control over the stabbing pain emanating from his ribs. The barely audible flutter of endless wings announced the arrival of the mail.

Regulus shot a glance over at the corner of the Great Hall, towards the piles of at least three dozen pumpkins, ready to be carved during the contest later in the day.

Regulus turned back to the others, a frown on his face: "They've really made sure to purge any last remains of Samhain. No Dumb Supper, no scrying, not even a bonfire.", he shook his head. Only skulls, bats, and enough tooth-rotting sweets to supply a mid-sized army.

“I guess, but think about it this way: Today in a not-so-distant future, we'll be out of school, and putting out three plates for the real special guests.", Barty managed to get out past a mouthful of food.

Regulus scrunched his nose and eyed the little bits of egg now sprayed over the table with vague disgust. Still, the thought of his father’s spirit being dragged back past the veil to see Regulus sitting at the head of the family table brought a grim smile to his face.

Dorcas and Pandora arrived, bundled up in matching sweaters with black cats on them, and the boy’s conversation abruptly ended. They started chatting about the coming day, but Regulus noticed Dorcas staying unusually quiet unless asked directly.

The conversation wandered towards today’s pumpkin carving contest. Both Evan and Barty immediately opted out in favour of stirring up mischief in Hogsmeade.

“Oh come on. Just this once.”, Pandora begged, giving her best puppy eyes. Regulus could see Evan starting to cave in.

"Okay,", Barty accepted suddenly. Pandora's braids slapped Regulus in the face with how quickly her head whipped around: "Really?".

Barty nodded, and Regulus almost considered himself saved from attending, until Barty pointed towards him: "Only if Regulus comes with us."

Regulus contemplated stabbing Barty with a butterknife. Pandora turned towards him: “You’ll come, right?”

Regulus exhaled sharply, rubbing his eyebrow. He really didn’t have anything to do for today, having planned to hide away in a nook with his letters and dodge any misguided attempts by other students to ask him to go Salazar-knows-where.

He glanced over at Dorcas, who was still staring off into space, not even trying to look like she’d been listening.

“Alright.“, he said. „ Let’s all go.”

“You’re sulking.”

Regulus watched as Evan flinched, eyes shooting up at Regulus.

“I’m not.”, he finally responded, gaze drifting back over to the courtyard. They were seated on a flight of stairs, waiting on the others to arrive. Dried leaves crunched beneath the shoes of passerby. Next to Regulus, vines made their way up the cold stone wall, their leaves a deep red. The scent of fresh rain still hung in the air.

Regulus sighed: “If you’re going to bother to lie, do it well.”

“Is that a quote from your book?”, Evan chuckled.

”Nope, from me.”

“You should start writing those down. Make a poetry book out of it.”

“And what kind of person would read that?”

“A deranged one.”

Regulus gave him a dry smiled.

“So you’d buy it then?” he mused.

“Oh, you know it. I’ll be the first in line at Flourish and Blotts. Might even get an autograph from the author.”

“Better get in line then.”

Evan grinned: “Oh come on, you’d sign something for me, right? Best friends. Slaves for a lifetime, that whole thing?”

Regulus leaned back, tapping his finger against his chin as if he were in deep contemplation: “Well, I’ll have to see. Wouldn’t want my legions of adoring fans to think I’m playing favourites, would I? Have to keep up the image of moral integrity.”

“If somebody said they’re a fan of your writing and still think you have moral integrity, I’d question if they read it.”

Regulus grinned at him just as he spotted Pandora at the entrance door. He shoved himself up and looked down at Evan: „Come on, let‘s go butcher some pumpkins.“

They made their way over to the others and into the great hall.

The long tables had been pushed aside to form a square, allowing spectators to sit and watch the contest. And watch they did. The outer edges of the tables were filled with students, some sitting on the benches, some directly on the tables.

Inside the square, over three dozen groups of two to three students had gathered, each team with their own pumpkin the size of a grown man's torso resting on a small stool.

Flitwick sat atop two extra-large pumpkins, his little legs dangling in the air, with a massive hourglass standing behind him. He thrilled a comically large whistle.

Regulus, Barty, and Pandora surrounded their pumpkin. Small rolls of paper started floating out a basket sitting next to Flitwick. Each team got one, floating above the pumpkin. Regulus held out his hand below it, while Pandora was busy trading vaguely threatening gestures with Evan, standing one pumpkin over with Dorcas.

Another thrill sounded out. The hourglass turned with a loud creak. The paper fell and Regulus caught it. He almost dropped it, fumbling to slide off the ribbon holding it closed.

‘Inferi’

“Seriously?”. Barty groaned, “Why did we get such a difficult prompt? I don’t even remember what those fuckers look like.”

“Stop moaning, start carving!”, Pandora shoved tools into their hands. Barty kept grumbling but started sawing off the top of the pumpkin. Pandora squatted down to sketch out the design on the outside of the pumpkin. Meanwhile, Regulus felt just slightly useless as he waited around with the scooper in his hands.

They worked quick, and soon Regulus stepped up to start scooping out the pumpkin’s guts. He shot a look at the clock. Five of the thirty minutes had already passed.

Regulus' face scrunched up in disgust, but he kept digging around inside, not paying mind to the mess he was making on the ground. He heard Barty curse as a particularly big pile of sludge hit his trainer. Regulus grinned to himself.

He stepped back and checked the hourglass again.

Rolling his shoulder, he watched the other two. Pandora was finished with the sketch. It stretched over half the pumpkin, and Pandora turned it to give him better access.

He looked over at Dorcas, an easy smile on her face as she discussed with Evan.

Regulus grabbed a smaller blade and started carving. Next to him, Pandora squeaked as Barty stood over her, both attempting to carve at the same place. “Come on Pan, give me some space. Reggie doesn’t bite.”

Regulus shot him a glare. As always, it didn't have the desired effect. Pandora just giggled, and the two continued shoving lightly at each other.

Seriously.

Regulus looked out the window of Pandora‘s dorm, squinting suspiciously at the thick fog. It had started creeping in after the feast and was now obscuring anything past a two foot radius. Hidden by the fog, small figures skittered around below. The younger students going trick or treating, no doubt.

Trick or treating at Hogwarts was always slightly different than elsewhere: Instead of students simply going door to door, ghosts, reanimated armour stands and other beings inhabiting the castle walls passed around the bowls of candy and hid with them. The students were left to try and figure out which door would reward them with candy and which doorknob would bite their hand or set off a dung bomb.

Absentmindedly, Regulus stroked the feathers of a white pigeon mounted on a fake tree branch. It was set on the side table next to the enormous red velvet armchair Regulus was resting in. Not just the table, but every visible surface in the room was packed full of items with varying degrees of… well, creepiness and unsettling nature.

A clutter of books, vases with trinkets, tarot decks, crystal balls, antique boxes, and strewn-about jewellery dominated the room. Between the chaos sat candles, at least three on every shelf, table, and dresser.

The flickering candles poured a golden shine over the room, making the shadows dance around. In any other situation, this would have been cozy and welcoming. In here, however, it just helped accentuate the highlight of the room- the uncomfortable amount of skulls, stuffed animals, and wet specimens that sat atop every surface.

A thousand cold, unseeing eyes stared at him, sitting atop shrines dedicated to death itself, decorated with wilted flowers, delicate lace bows, and pearls.

Not even the walls were safe from the chaos. Boxes with displayed butterflies, seemingly random pieces of satin and lace, anatomical drawings of the human body, and an odd amount of mirrors covered the cold stone.

Regulus could see why Pandora had the room all to herself. He’d been here more times than he could count over the years, yet the room and its chaos never ceased to unsettle him.

Something was digging into his lower back. Regulus grabbed it and held it up in front of him. A small, pale pink satin pillow shaped like a heart, its hem adorned with pearls and gold stitching. The most eye-catching part, however, was a blue porcelain eye set right in the middle. It gazed, unblinking and unseeing, at him.

He placed the pillow on the table gingerly, the eye facing down. The feeling of being watched didn’t fade.

Barty sat next to him, currently preoccupied with measuring out the exact amount of each ingredient of his new tea combination on a brass scale. Regulus wasn’t sure why this was the only thing that could keep his friend quiet for an extended amount of time, but he surely wasn’t going to complain.

Also, the tea was fucking delectable.

“This.”, Evan started, holding up a big, leather-clad book, “is exactly what we needed. If we‘re really going to do this, we need a way to get around without being seen. Most spells and floo connections can be traced, so Regulus, Barty, and me had an idea.“ He flipped open the book and tapped the page.

The girls leaned in, getting a look at what was written. Regulus watched closely as Dorcas‘ face morphed from confusion to disbelief.

„Animagi?“, she looked around the room, „You want us to try that?“

„Why, don‘t think you can do it?“ Regulus replied.

„Maybe because it‘s illegal? And getting caught would get us into serious shite?“

Reg raised a brow at her.

„Also, it‘s insanely dangerous. One wrong move and it‘s over. Best case you‘re stuck as some half-transformed abomination, worst case you‘re dead.“

„Which is why,“ Evan cut in „we‘ll be careful. The moment you‘re even a little bit unsure if everything went to plan, you stop the entire thing, no questions.“

While they'd learned about animagi in third year, the process of becoming one hadn't been described further. It had merely been stated that it was a tedious and incredibly long-winded process, most likely to discourage potential curious students from trying their luck without a teacher's guidance.

Dorcas looked around, her face drawn in disbelief. Then, she just sighed and shook her head.

„Great.“ Evan clapped his hands. “ In order to become an animagus, the first step is to keep a mandrake leaf in your mouth from one full moon to the next.”

Regulus and Dorcas shared a disgusted look.

“The second full moon has to be a visible one, too. No clouds, nothing. On that moon, you have to spit the leaf into a crystal phial that was shone on by the moon. With the leaf, you have to put in one of your hairs, a silver teaspoon of dew from somewhere that hasn't been touched by sunlight or human feet for seven days, and the chrysalis of the Death's-Head Hawk Moth. Afterwards, it has to be stored somewhere dark where it will not be disturbed.”

Pandora said Regulus‘ thoughts out loud: "That sounds like bare effort."

Evan grinned: "And it's only the first half."

Dorcas hummed quietly, her eyes lost in thought, then spoke: “The mandrake leaves we can just nock from the greenhouses. Should be the time the first graders are planting them. The dew we can probably get from the dark forest, but how are you going to collect dew without…going there?”

“We can just climb a tree and then bend down to pick it up.”, Barty jumped in. In front of him stood five steaming mugs that he handed out. Dorcas accepted hers but frowned: “No way it‘s that easy.”

Barty just shrugged: “Well, it says no human feet or sunlight can touch it. Unless you’re planning on sending an owl to pick it up.”

“Can’t we just levitate the flask we collect it in?”, Regulus wondered.

"I was thinking that too, but good luck trying to maneuver something per wand.", Dorcas said, sipping her tea.

"Moving on.", Evan waved his hand, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable "Afterwards, we have to wait for a storm with flashes. During that time, we need to chant an incantation at sunrise and sunset every day with a wand over our heart.”

Pandora groaned, clearly grieving the many days of sleeping in she’d be missing out on.

Her brother glared at her but continued regardless: “On the night of the storm, we retrieve the phials, go somewhere with a lot of space, and then drink it.”

Regulu looked between the two girls: „Thoughts?“

„Sounds fun.“, Pandora took a sip of tea.

„One way to put it.“, Dorcas sighed. At Regulus‘ look, she responded: „Sounds like you made your mind up about this.“

Evan shrugged: „You don‘t have to if you don‘t want to.“

„Obviously I do.“, she turned towards the others: „Where do we start?“

Chapter Text

The tranquil waves of the Black Lake sloshed quietly, murky brown water lapping at the edge of the little peninsula. Dorcas and McKinnon had found themselves sitting in a pavilion on the edge of the lake. It had long been left at the mercy of the unforgiving weather, as illustrated by the layer of moss that coated the cracked grey rock. Everything from the steps leading up to the structure, the balustrades the two girls were sitting on, to the ancient roof was covered in a dark green fuzz, still glinting with pearly water droplets.

Birds were chirping all around them. The fiery red and orange leaves of the surrounding trees whispered as a cold breeze passed through them. The smell of rain still hung in the air, despite the sluggish gray clouds staying dry.

Dorcas had her herbology textbook open, balanced on the stone beam. She twirled one braid as she thought out loud: "If the dragon dung fertilizer is good for mandrakes, doesn't that mean that it would also be good for gillyweed?"

McKinnon looked like she was one moment away from strangling her: "It absolutely doesn't, Christ almighty." She strayed off into frantic rambling, plant names and fertilizing theories flying around like curses in a war zone. "How on earth did you even pass until this year?" she waved her arms wildly.

Dorcas dodged a stray limb and started scratching out her answer on the parchment. She scoffed at the enraged tone. Talk about overreacting. "What? It's a perfectly logical conclusion." She pulled one leg up and rested her chin on it, pouting to herself.

"Oh yeah totally.”

Dorcas glared at her: "Less heavy on the attitude, McKinnon. Good luck passing DADA after you piss me off."

Marlene's smile stretched from ear to ear, her dark eyes sparkling: "I would never, Miss Meadows."

They fell into silence, both scribbling away at their parchment. A smirr started up, the tiny rain droplets making waves in the puddles. At the other edge of the lake, the castle started to disappear behind a thick fog as it pulled over the fiery red trees like a blanket.

"How come you still call me McKinnon? I mean, we've known each other for a bit now.", the Gryffindor asked, suddenly serious. Dorcas looked at her, taken aback: "It just… seems the most fitting?"

McKinnon pulled a hand through her shaggy blonde mullet: "Guess it's that Slytherin formality?"

Dorcas cocked her head in consideration. "I guess so. We don't really call people by their first name unless they're close friends."

"You wound me, Meadowes.", McKinnon clutched her non-existent pearl necklace, "And here I thought I was melting your icy demeanour with my charm."

"My icy demeanour?", Dorcas questioned, her lips quirking up at the other girl's dramatics.

McKinnon nodded frantically, making Dorcas worry she might snap her neck: "Well of course. You always walk around like you've got a stick jammed up your fanny-"

"My what?", Dorcas couldn't help but start snickering.

"-with your little clique and your little fancy shoes and your hair done all pretty-"

"Are you insulting me or trying to flirt right now? Because by Merlin's saggy tits I can't tell."

"What I'm trying to say is", McKinnon made wide gestures that said absolutely nothing "You seem very… uptight. Even for a Slytherin."

Dorcas frowned. That was a high fucking bar. "So you suggest I start calling you by your first name because… it would better my public image?"

"Yes. Well, kind of. Not that your image is bad." McKinnon gestured towards Dorcas and wagged her eyebrows suggestively. Dorcas just rolled her eyes:

"Sure, whatever. Marlene."

She let the unfamiliar name hang in the air between them. Marlene's smile made her nose crinkle and exposed her slightly too big front teeth. Cute.

"So you really call everybody in your house by last name? Even your roommates?"

"Pretty much. Slytherins like to keep a polite distance, generally. Or maybe that's just the people I'm friends with."

"I can see it with Crouch and the creepy twins-", Dorcas raised an eyebrow at that but chose to let it go for now. "But I'm friends with Sirius and he doesn't have the name thing his brother does. I don't think he ever did, as far as I remember."

"They're quite different, so that doesn't surprise me." Dorcas stared intently at Marlene's face, gauging her reaction. The other girl just shrugged.

"Yeah, probably. Sirius got all mopey when he found out I was tutoring a friend of his brother. He's such a drama queen."

Dorcas burst out laughing: "I was worried about the same thing with Regulus. Guess they're not that different."

"Is that who I have to thank for the lovely introduction?"

"No, the only person you have to thank for that is yourself."

"Oh really? And why is that?"

"Running around calling girls you've never talked to 'sweetheart' isn't exactly as charming as you might think.", Dorcas shook her head, still grinning.

"What a shame, I was taking a book out of James' library."

"I'm pretty sure it's 'page out of a book'. Also, 'Oi Evans' Potter? Really?"

Marlene snorted: "People from other houses know about that too? I will never let him live that down."

"He persisted for like five years straight, it was hard to miss. Either way, not somebody you should take advice from."

"Well, I couldn't come unprepared to take a shot at the school's most eligible bachelorette, could I?" Marlene grinned and winked at Dorcas.

Dorcas rolled her eyes and turned back towards her work.

---

Delicate ice flowers bloomed on the windows they passed, not yet fully formed. Outside, it was still pitch black, their only source of light the slowly sinking full moon.

Regulus could hear Barty cursing under his breath, and Evan right beside him, stewing in his own tired brooding.

„Did we really all have to go?“, Dorcas asked. Not even the murky moonlight could hide her eyebags, visible  on her dark skin.

„If you don‘t want to come, we‘re not forcing you.“, Regulus answered.

„Of course I want to be there“, she asnwered quickly „I meant more like him.“, she jerked her chin in Barty‘s direction. He scoffed.

„Excuse me, what did I do?“

„We can all hear you talking to yourself. Either stop complaining or leave.“

Barty pulled a face at the other two boys. „Someone‘s grouchy.“

The four Slytherins arrived at a large window on the ground floor.

"What now?", whispered Barty.

"We wait.", Regulus answered.

Barty pulled a face: "Why can't we already go? She'll find us eventually.", he whinged, kicking lightly at the stone wall.

"We. Wait.", Regulus hissed back.

Barty pouted and slinked away, probably to sulk in a corner or set a century old tapestry on fire. Evan just crossed his arms, leaning against the stone wall.

Regulus came up next to him, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off of Evan. They didn't say anything, standing together in silence.

"Hi."

All four flinched and turned around to Pandora.

Regulus recovered from the shock first: "How long have you been standing there?" he asked.

"Not long." The others exchanged confused looks. "Sorry for the delay. Peeves flooded a corridor so I had to take a different route."

"What were you doing?"

Pandora held up two tightly sealed burlap sacks and shook them lightly. It made a clinking sound. "Blackout phial. Making sure the dew doesn't get spoiled by the sun until it’s time."

"And are we sure it'll be fine to collect the dew months before actually doing the ritual?", asked Dorcas.

Evan perked up: "Yes. English wizards tend to do it gradually, but in other countries it's not uncommon to prepare everything beforehand. Some even make entire temple rooms dedicated to the transformation process."

"Told you. Thanks, Ev. Well, let's get going." She tapped the frosted glass with her wand and took a step back. The window creaked open, a gust of cold air spilling in. She hiked her leg up on the windowsill and jumped out in one swift motion.

They crossed the lawn surrounding the castle. Behind the edge of the Black Forest, the tiniest sliver of morning red started licking at the dark night sky. A veil of sapphire was hanging over them, turning their coats into oil slicks in a sea of blue.

They ventured into the darkness of the forest. Pandora led them, over roots that rose out of the ground like bony fingers and past deep hanging branches that clawed at their hair and faces. The murky light filtered green through the thick blanket of treetops, leaving the group to stumble over every rock and branch in their way. Their sounds interrupted the deafening silence that dominated the space.

The deeper they got, the more the forest seemed to creep in on them. Rows of trees became intertwined with thick undergrowth, bushes and ferns covering the floor. At some points, something big had torn through the thick fauna, leaving gaping holes where there should have been greenery. Some trees carried thick, deep slashes resembling claws.

It took a while for the first signs of life to return: only once the red of the sunrise started stretching out over the dark sky did the birds start chirping. They crossed a small stream flowing peacefully, a group of croaking toads relaxing on a rock on its edge. Peeking through the little gaps between branches, Regulus could spot the Shrieking Shack in the distance.

Every now and then, something near them would scurry off into the shrubbery, hidden by the undergrowth.

Finally, the Ratking arrived at an odd gateway. Not a gateway, Regulus corrected mentally. The greenery around them had grown together so intertwined that it had formed a wall out of branches, covered in ivy and moss. The only entrance was a hole, about the size of a man's torso.

"What in Salazar's name is that?", Dorcas asked, interrupting the silence that had hung between them.

"The Portrait of the Lady in the apple orchard told me about it.", Pandora answered. Evan squatted down, peering into the darkness.

He turned towards her: "And how are you planning to collect dew inside there? You can barely see anything. Good luck levitating a vial precise enough to collect some dew."

His sister simply kicked at his leg, causing him to fall over. He flipped her off. She stuck out her tongue at him.

"Well don't you worry, I've got this.", Barty announced.

Regulus sighed. "Barty don-"

Before anyone could react, Barty had thrown off his coat, snatched the satchel out of Pan's hands, and started squeezing through the hole.

"By Merlin's saggy tits, Barty!" "Get the fuck out of there!" the others started yelling simultaneously, startling a group of crows. The birds set off in a cacophony of caws and wing flutter.

"Just trust me on this one." Barty's voice was muffled from within the tree wall

He had turned around so that his stomach was up. Regulus couldn't see what was happening, but Barty's body disappeared, his feet pulling up above the hole last. As soon as he was no longer blocking the hole, the other four crouched in front of it. Regulus cast a quick Lumos and shone into the hole.

The light illuminated a small meadow. In the middle, a gnarly tree trunk stood lonely. It wasn't a wall of trees, Regulus realized. It was the drooping branches of a massive tree on which other vegetation had started to grow, forming a towering dome within

He inched forward and looked up. Lo and behold, Barty was hanging right over the hole, clinging to one of the branches that had been weighed down.

"Are you sure that's gonna hold you?" Evan asked next to him.

"No worries Rosie, I'll make sure to keep my feet off the ground if it doesn't."

And with that, he started climbing. The satchel tightened on his belt, he was inching further and further up. Once Barty could reach at one of the lowest branches, he grabbed it, dangling from it like a sloth. Headlong, he climbed along the branch until he reached the tree trunk.

Regulus clutched at his wand.

Then, Barty arranged his legs so they were both hooking onto the branch. He let go, dangling upside down.

Slowly, Barty untied the satchel from his belt. For a second, he fumbled with it, then pulled out a vial and the silver spoon. He lowered his torso further until he was hanging just inches away from the moist grass. Slowly, he reached out, using the spoon to scrape dew off the grass and filling the droplets into the phial. He repeated it a few times, his face turning tomato red from the blood flowing to it.

Gesturing towards the others, he asked: "You think that's enough?"

"I think so, now make sure to close the phial tightly and fill the others.", Regulus answered.

Barty grinned as he went on to fill the other phials: "Oh, so now my idea is suddenly good, huh?"

Regulus just rolled his eyes: "Get on with it."

"Not until you tell me it was a good idea." Barty's grin widened.

Regulus scoffed. "It was a dumb idea, but if it ain‘t broke, don‘t fix it. Now hurry up."

"Nope. Tell me it was a good idea, Reggie."

"Not my name, fuck you."

"Sure thing." Barty wriggled his eyebrows obnoxiously. "But before that, I'll have a nice walk all over this beautiful little patch of grass."

"Don't you dare.", Regulus hissed, pointing his wand at the other boy.

Evan too pointed his wand at Barty: "One wrong move and you‘ll end up in the hospital."

Barty, the bastard, just laughed: "Not while I'm holding the key to your heart's desire, you won't, Rosie. Now, I'd like to hear it from all three of you."

"Just three? Why not Pan?", Dorcas asked. Regulus could see her eyelid starting to twitch violently.

"Because Pan is a treasure and never doubts me.", Barty answered with an upside down shrug.

Dorcas ignored Pandora cooing in response: "Sure, whatever. Your idea was amazing, we're terribly sorry for doubting you. Now please, get on with it before your head bursts open."

"You flatter me, Dorcas. Now the other two."

Regulus bristled at the cocky tone.

With a tired sigh, Evan dropped his wand: "You were right, hurray for us. How lucky we are to have you on our team."

"Aww, Rosie.", Barty clutched invisible pearls, almost spilling the phial in the process and making the other three flinch.

Evan nudged Regulus: "Just do it, please. I don't want to have to do this again."

Regulus ignored him, staring straight at Barty: "No."

"Oh Reggie, time's running out.", Barty sang, the glee in his voice impossible to ignore.

"Regulus please-", Dorcas started, but Regulus just shook his head and glared at the two of them: "His idea was shit, I'm not going to pretend it wasn't just because of his fucking games"

He turned back to Barty: "One fucking step and I'm making sure it's your last one. I can get new dew from this spot in a week, can you grow new feet in a week?"

"Let's find out." Barty had started swinging back and forth on his branch, the whole tree shaking along with it.

"For fuck's sake, both of you, drop the games and just get on with it."; Dorcas spat, her patience wearing thin.

"Reggie.", Barty continued to sing-song, the shaking of the tree becoming stronger and stronger.

"Fuck you, Crouch, you act like this and still wonder why your father-", Regulus didn't get any further, because Dorcas bodily tackled him to the ground. A shuffle of limbs and arms ensued as Dorcas’ hand clamped shut over Regulus' mouth and started dragging him away from the hole.

"I take care of this, you take care of that.", she threw over her shoulder, all while manhandling a furiously kicking Regulus away from them.

Regulus let off, straining his ears to hear what was said.

Pandora turned back towards the hole: "Is Dorcas' sacrifice enough for you?"

All Regulus could hear in response was Barty‘s laugh and the shake of the tree as he started climbing back.

The sun had already set when Regulus made his way through the deserted corridors of the castle. He'd been able to resume patrols after Madame Pomfrey finally cleared him, though not without a warning to "take it slow". Sure he would, Madame.

He was making his way up toward his and Lupin's usual meeting spot when a stab of pain shot through his ribcage. Regulus halted, leaning against the wall for support. He let his head drop against the cold stone and took a row of measured breaths. Every time his ribcage expanded, a sharp pain flared up on the side of his ribs.

Regulus stood still for a while, then pushed off the wall to continue his journey. He'd deal with it.

Suddenly, footsteps sounded out from a nearby corridor. Regulus shied back into the shadows.

"-don't understand why they'd even let what's basically a mudblood like Meadows into Slytherin.", the nasal voice of Mulciber Jr. shrilled through the corridors, bouncing off the walls like a particularly annoying ghost.

Avery's voice chimed in: "Wait, wasn't she like half-half?"

Regulus perked up. The Dark Lord's influence had stretched into Hogwarts, he'd been more than aware of that. It would be hard not to, with the way his parents rarely spoke to him about anything else.

But Dorcas? He really wasn't a fan of halfbloods himself, the thought of wixen and muggle blood mixing together like milk and mud leaving a sour taste in his mouth, but Dorcas didn't count. She was one of the most powerful witches in their entire year, brimming with talent and truly embodying what it meant to be a Slytherin.

"Yes, she is. But it doesn‘t matter, attacking other Slytherins won't gain you any favours. We‘ll start with the others first. And don't cock up like that in the kitchen, or the elves are sending us straight to Dumbledore." Regulus could almost see the oil-slick dripping from every fibre of Snape's being. He grimaced. Snape was definitely one of the muddier halfbloods, if only for the fact that he walked around like he wasn't.

"Sod off, with the way she's been cozying up to that Gryffindor mudblood, she's basically one of them. Don't worry though, Severus. You're one of the good ones."

"Whatever. Just listen next time, you two making plans always end up biting us."

The boys' shadows danced along the wall opposite Regulus. He watched them walk along until they disappeared into another arched walkway.

So that’s what happened at Samhain. If he‘d learned anything in his life, it was that hard lessons were learned the hard way.

He pushed off the wall and started making his way down the corridors. Just before the grand stairs, he turned left into a small corridor and circled back. Weaving through back doors, passages hidden behind tapestries, and corridors that seemingly went nowhere, Regulus sketched out a plan in his mind, redoing it over and over again.

Dorcas didn't understand the importance of sending messages. He'd just have to make sure she wouldn't find out.

Once the entrance to the hospital wing came in sight, he was satisfied with his plan.

He pushed lightly against the imposing gate. The door, a construction out of thick wood that realistically should have weighed double his own bodyweight, slid open without issue.

The hospital wing was dark, no light shining in from the outside. The only sources of light were a few candles scattered around the infirmary. He moved towards Madame Pomfrey's office and knocked. Behind the door, a chair scraped loudly and a few seconds later it opened.

"Good evening, Madame Pomfrey.", Regulus greeted.

The nurse didn't look surprised to see him: "Good evening, Mr. Black. Do you need some more pain relief potion?"

Regulus grinned a rueful smile, bringing a hand up to tug at his collar in faux nervosity: "Yes, well. My arm has been a bit of a problem, I just don't want to risk it getting worse. I'll need to get some of my quidditch gear too, and carrying all that…" The quidditch gear that was already lying in his dorms.

"You're intending to go all the way to the pitch tonight", Madame Pomfrey shot a look towards a clock hanging on the wall "Just to get your gear?"

"Of course not.", Regulus chuckled "I need to get to the faculty wing to collect my new uniform. But you know how Professor Slughorn gets about being woken up in the middle of the night, so I figured it's better to collect it now."

He saw the vaguely disgusted look cross the nurse's face at the mention of Slughorn. It was no secret the two despised each other. Or rather, the nurse had no respect for Slughorn due to his laid-back work ethic and the potions teacher was annoyed at her for constantly hassling him about making draughts.

That was not made better by the fact that Madame Pomfrey was well aware that Slughorn's "do not disturb at night" attitude had less to do with a need for sleep and more with the fact that he usually wasn't sober after 10 p.m. She was the one who usually had to supply him with hangover cures, after all.

Madame Pomfrey handed Regulus two vials of potion and sent him off with a warning not to lift anything too heavy. Regulus started walking towards the teachers' wing, but slipped into a back door halfway that led him straight towards the grand stairs.

He ducked into a corner, hidden by the darkness all around the staircase, with a clear view of the entrance and stairwell that led towards the kitchen. He didn't have to wait long.

Mulciber and Avery came down the stairs, huddled together closely. They moved past Regulus' hiding spot, walking towards another set of stairs.

Regulus followed them. The two boys were at the top of the stairs. They didn't notice him. He was right behind them.

With a single push, one arm for each boy, he shoved them forward. They went tumbling down the stairs, all the way until they hit a railing with a sickening crunch. The staircase they'd just fallen down started moving, gliding away and towards another platform.

He still remembered when he was younger, he'd owned a beautiful doll. She'd been made of porcelain, with a pained face and beautiful long hair. One day, during a family event, all the kids had been sent to stay in a separate room. Narcissa had asked to see it, and after endless pestering, he'd relented and lent her the doll. He didn't remember what had happened, he just remembered hearing a loud crash.

The adults had healed Narcissa's wounds and cleaned up the shards that were left of his doll. Later that day, just before they were about to leave, Narcissa had come to him to apologize, pale eyes gleaming with childish tears. He'd accepted. Her dark hair had looked just like his doll's as she made her way towards the stairs. Even more so when she lay motionless at the bottom of them.

Regulus looked down at the crumpled bodies for a moment, then turned around and went on his way to patrol.

Regulus took a bit to spot Lupin after turning the last corner. The older boy was sitting on a windowsill, the only thing giving his location away being the orange glimmer of a lit cigarette.

Pulling out his own cig, Regulus walked over to him.

"I see my gift card was good use?", Lupin grinned as Regulus lit it.

Regulus let out a dry chuckle: "Yeah, once I finally got out of the medical wing. I'm sure Madame Pomfrey would've loved if I lit up inside."

The other boy pushed off the windowsill, and the two began walking.

"How are you holding up, anyway?" Lupin glanced towards Regulus. No note on Regulus being thirty minutes late to patrol.

Regulus shrugged: "Pretty good. My arm still hurts a bit, but I've got some draught to take care of it." He thought of the two vials of potion in his pocket. He’d started skipping his dosages. The pain was usually manageable, and overshadowed by the satisfaction of two dosages at once.

"Just be careful not to take too many at once." Lupin advised: "Makes you sleepy like a priest in confession."

Confused by the latter statement, Regulus chose to ignore it. "I will, thanks." He glanced at the other boy's face. It was partially obscured by his light brown curls, but Regulus could still see the jagged scars running across Lupin's freckled skin.

The Gryffindor could probably tell he wanted to ask, but Regulus chose not to. Asking now would damage whatever relationship they'd built over the past patrols, and having Lupin as an ally would benefit Regulus by leagues more than finding out whatever dirty little secret he was hiding.

They continued their patrol, their conversation turning to more benign topics.

His eyes fell on Lupin's cane. It looked different, but Regulus couldn't put his finger on why. It was a simple wooden stick with a bent top, clearly self-made, with a rough exterior left over from carving it with a knife.

"Did you get a new cane?", he asked.

Lupin slowed for a second, clearly surprised by the question: "Oh, I did. Needed to adjust the height after a year."

Regulus turned fully towards him. He squinted, looking the other boy up and down. "You're still growing?"

"Guess I am.", the other boy grinned, amused by Regulus' incredulous look.

"Lucky you.", Regulus muttered, craning his neck to look at Lupin's face as the Gryffindor towered over him.

This made Lupin chuckle: "I guess you could see it that way. Especially if you've stopped growing in fourth year."

Regulus quirked an eyebrow at that: "I actually stopped growing in fifth year, that you very much." He sniffed.

"Sure, but it has some problems too. New canes always need some time to wear down properly."

"Wear down?"

Lupin nodded: "When the wood exterior is rough, it can get stuck on the leg of my trousers. Really fucking annoying, takes some time to smooth out." Regulus looked down. Lupin was right, the fabric on his left trouser leg was scuffed. Couldn‘t he just get it polished?

He thought for a second, then pulled out his wand. With the flick of his wrist and muttered incantations, the wood smoothed over, taking on a polished shine.

Lupin watched him silently. Once Regulus was finished, Lupin picked up the cane to examine it. "That's pretty handy."

"It's a peeling and a polish spell. Pretty helpful when peeling ingredients for potions."

Lupin smiled at him: "Thank you."

"Don't mention it.", Regulus mumbled.

They continued walking. Suddenly, their idle chatter was interrupted by rapid footsteps.

"Mr. Lupin, Mr.Black.", Professor McGonagall greeted the two prefects, hurrying towards them. "I will have to ask you to follow me." Without another word, she whirled around and stalked off in the direction she had come from.

Lupin shot him a questioning look. Regulus, already having a good guess as to what was going on, just shrugged. They followed the Professor down to the infirmary.

In front of the large doors, a small group had formed. Regulus spotted Madame Pomfrey quietly speaking to Nearly Headless Nick. Behind them, Professor Slughorn was leaning against a wall, doing a piss poor job of hiding his drunken swaying.

Once they'd arrived at the group, Professor McGonagall turned around to them and explained all the flurry.

"Today at around 10.20 pm, Sir Nicholas found two Slytherin students injured on the grand staircase. He immediately informed me and Madame Pomfrey, who then contacted Professor Slughorn." she shot the man a dirty look. He just nodded absently, swaying lightly and looking a lot like a melting pile of goo.

Regulus' heart was in his throat. 10.20, meaning the ghost had narrowly missed him. If he'd missed him. No, of course he had. Regulus hadn't seen him. There was no way an unsuspecting ghost would have managed to sneak up on him. Others, maybe, but not Regulus.

The professor continued: "Now, usually this wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary. Two students are out after curfew, slip on the stairs in the dark, and injure themselves. However, both students alleged that they had not fallen by accident. They say that somebody had pushed them." She studied the two boys. "Is there anything out of the ordinary you two might have witnessed on your patrol?"

Regulus feigned thinking about the question, then shook his head: "No, professor. We didn't meet anyone. But we went towards the west tower, so we haven't passed the grand stairs yet." Lupin made a noise of agreement.

McGonagall peered at him through her glasses, a curious expression on her face: "Is that so, Mr.Black?"

He nodded.

"Was there anything else you might wish to share? Even if it doesn't seem connected?"

"Well," Regulus forced his voice down into a more normal register: "I went to the medical wing before patrol to pick up some pain draught for my injured arm. Afterward, I went to Professor Slughorn's office to pick up my new quidditch uniform and brought it to the dungeons. On the way back, I saw Snape in one of the halls, but he seemed to be going towards the Slytherin common room, and I was already late for patrol, so I didn't stop him."

McGonagall nodded, not taking her unrelenting eyes off of him: "So when did you start patrolling, then?"

Regulus suppressed a nervous shudder: "I don't exactly remember, unfortunately."

"We started a bit after 10.10pm. Over at the quad courtyard.", Lupin chimed in. Regulus felt his heart drop in relief.

The professor finally took her eyes off Regulus. "Thank you, Mr.Lupin." she turned back towards Regulus: "And where exactly did you see Mr.Snape?"

"Right outside the dungeons."

"And you say he was heading towards the Slytherin common room?"

"I'm not sure..." Regulus furrowed his brow "He was just kind of standing outside. I didn't see that much."

The professor finally nodded, clearly tired: "Well, in that case, thank you very much. You may resume your patrol."

The two boys bid the adults good night and left.

Regulus kept glancing over at Lupin, trying to figure him out. What was his game? Why would he lie, for Regulus of all people? Was he planning to blackmail him? Did he have his own stakes in this whole situation?

It was common knowledge that Sirius and his friends despised Snape, and vice versa. Maybe Lupin had seen a chance to frame his enemy and lied because of that, inadvertently protecting Regulus. His thoughts went in circles, faster and faster, until he couldn't hear his own mind underneath the screaming.

"Why?", Regulus blurted out when the questions swarming around his head became too unbearable to keep inside.

"Why what?"

"You know exactly what.", Regulus snapped, his agitation quickly stripping away his patience.

Lupin studied him for a second.

"Because I know the kind of shite they pull. Whatever the reason was, they definitely deserved it. You've got good judgment, so I figured I'd just trust you on that."

Regulus blinked in surprise. He knew that, of course. But it wasn't often that other people were able to see his strength this clearly. Most people were too absorbed in their own mundane lives to spot somebody like Regulus. But Lupin recognized it.

„I'll trust you on that.“ Regulus felt warmth seep into the cold of his bones.

Regulus looked up at the other boy and smiled "Thank you, Remus."

Chapter Text

The courtyard was silent as Barty and Evan made their way through it. Overnight, the first snow had fallen, and the yard lay still and frozen before them. With every step, stirred-up snow whirled around their legs, mixing with the tiny snowflakes tumbling down from the cloudy sky.

Their only company was a murder of crows. Nine in total, Evan counted. Everybody else was inside, in class. They should be too, but neither of the boys saw any use in urgency.

"Well, I'm just saying, rules are rules. So it's not cheating." Barty said, gesturing wildly.

"Kissing somebody else under the mistletoe while you're in a relationship is absolutely cheating. Honestly, she should've dumped you way before that."

Barty pouted: "Now why would you say that, Rosie? My poor little fifth year heart was broken. Obliterated, into a thousand tiny pieces."

"You shagged her best friend two days later.", Evan replied, desperately wishing the conversation would end. He'd already had to deal with Barty's one actual relationship while it had been happening (it was agony), and didn't need any reminders.

Barty sighed wistfully: "Oh yeah. He was a bloody good shag, too."

Evan remained silent.

"Hey, Rosie." Barty said and threw his arm around Evan's shoulder. "If you were under the mistletoe with someone, what would you do?"

"Nothing?" Evan broke his resolve to ignore Barty, frowning in disgust, "I definitely wouldn't stick my tongue down their throat."

Barty didn't let off: "So you don't wanna kiss anyone?"

"Not some random person I met under a mistletoe, no."

"Are you sure it's not just because you've never kissed anyone?"

Evan shoved Barty off. "If you don't let this go, I'm feeding you snow- the yellow kind.", he warned.

"But you would want to kiss people?"

"Sure, I guess.", Evan threw up his arms, exasperated and very much done with the topic. "But I'm not gonna do it under a mistletoe just because."

Barty hummed.

"Why are you even-", Evan started, but was cut off by Barty's lips on his own.

What?

Evan blinked.

The touch of his lips was feathery light, and it took Evan a second to realize what was happening. He could feel the heat of the other boy's body against his own, Barty's hand that had curled around his wrist burning like embers. The smell of Barty's shampoo filled his nose, something dark but sweet. Cinnamon and black tea. Evan's entire body was in freefall, his knees growing dangerously soft.

It was all too much and not enough. The moment was over in a heartbeat. Barty leaned back and Evan took a shuddering breath.

"Come on now. We can't be even more late for class.", Barty grinned. He turned around and started running across the courtyard.

Dumbfounded, Evan stood rooted to the spot. His brain had frozen over and was only now slowly thawing.

"What the- Wait!", he yelled, taking off after Barty, white powdery snow flying up around their feet. He followed Barty all the way to the entrance, where he finally caught up.

"What the fuck." Evan panted as they came to a stop. "You can't just fucking do that."

Barty turned around to him, with that stupid smile that made his eyes gleam and showed the little scar above his lip, right where Evan had jammed his wand during a fight in second year.

"Why not?", he asked.

Evan stared at him. "Buh- because- what the fuck, you can't- What even is that question?", he stuttered, attempting to find his bearings.

Barty's grin only widened, and he took a step towards Evan, their faces only inches apart. "Do I make you nervous, Rosie?"

Evan stared at him. Barty's face was flushed with the cold, little clouds of fog accompanying every breath he took. Tiny flakes of snow clung to his dark curls and lashes, the blue of his eyes underneath almost hidden by the black of his blown pupils. His lips were cracked, and Evan watched as Barty's tongue darted out.

Evan grabbed Barty's collar and shoved him against the stone wall. Surprise flashed across Barty's face, but Evan didn't give him a chance to speak, crushing his lips against Barty's.

The craving that had been plaguing Evan was finally bleeding out as he kissed Barty. It was too eager to be gentle, too desperate to be sweet.

Barty's lips were rough against Evan's, parting to deepen the kiss. Evan pulled back, ignoring Barty's noise of protest, and shot forward to bite down on Barty's lower lip until he tasted blood. The twangy taste of iron spread in his mouth.

Barty's hands found their way to Evan's hips, and he pulled the other boy closer, going back in for the kiss.

Evan's hand turned into a fist around Barty's collar, his other hand buried into Barty's hair until he couldn't tell where Evan ended and Barty began. He pulled back, gasping, eyes transfixed on Barty's face.

He looked fucking beautiful. There was blood trickling down from his split lip. He was panting, hair stuck up in every direction, bright eyes fixed on Evan. A dark blush had spread over his cheeks and up to his ears, making his face glow.

For a while, they just stared at each other, both breathing heavily.

Evan's fist, he realized, was still clamped around the collar of Barty's shirt, knuckles white. Slowly, as he gained back control over his limbs, he uncurled it. His hand was shaking, and his nails had left crescent-shaped indents in his palm. In some parts, they'd broken skin, droplets of blood seeping into Barty's collar.

Tenderly, Evan brushed his fingertips over the tiny red stains decorating the white.

His eyes flicked back to Barty's, still focused on Evan, cutting like a surgical knife.

Barty's lips quirked into a grin as he grabbed Evan's hand, caressing the moon-shaped cuts, then closing around it. He interlaced their fingers, resting warm and soft against each other.

He pulled Evan after him, into the castle. Their hands stayed interlocked.

---

The sun had set by the time Regulus left the quidditch pitch, legs numb and every other muscle sore. He dragged his feet over the grass, still moist with the melted snow.

Regulus kept close to the castle wall, out of view from any windows. His breath created little clouds, and he shivered, pulling his quidditch coat tighter around himself. He was coming to regret not changing it. The thin, short-sleeved overcoat did little to ward off the freezing wind, and the woolen clothes underneath were damp with sweat. It made each breeze feel like a bucket of ice water was being emptied over him.

He spotted Dorcas lingering in the shadow of a tree, the hood of her dark jumper pulled deep in her face.

“Suspiciously unsuspicious, Meadowes.”, he commented as he snuck up behind her. He laughed at her startled flinch.

She grinned back: “Real funny. ”

They turned towards the greenhouse standing a few yards from them, the mountain of glass eerily quiet in the dark.

Regulus broke the silence: “Everybody should be out by now, right?”

“Oh yeah. Look, it’s already locked up and everything.” Dorcas pointed at the thick iron lock hanging from the entrance door.

They crowded around it. With a tap of his wand and a muttered Alohomora, it snapped open. He pulled open the glass door, and they slipped through.

“Towards the back.”, Dorcas whispered. They crept around rows of work benches, barely visible in the dim light.

Overgrown ferns and bushes sat atop every surface, an impenetrable wall of green that blocked the view of the remaining space. The smell of wet earth rose from the dirt floor, mixing with the scent of cut grass, herbs, and damp wood. Above them, the glass roof gave view of the black sky, stars shining through the dark.

Dorcas stopped abruptly, Regulus walking straight into her. She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down.

“What?” he hissed, looking around frantically.

Dorcas held a finger to her lips, then pointed at something outside of his view. He leaned forward, straining his neck to see. Suddenly, he caught a movement in the dark.

A few rows across from them, the dark silhouette of Professor Sprout was leaning over a bench. Regulus looked back at Dorcas, cocking his head in a silent question. She motioned forward with her hand, then pointed down.

They sat off again while crouching, ducking behind plants for cover. The workbenches started to clear up, forcing them to drop on all fours and crawl across the ground towards the storage room.

Once they reached it, they sat up and peered through the glass. The professor was still immersed in her work, back turned towards them.

Regulus shot Dorcas a nod, then turned around to take in their surroundings. It wasn’t quite a room, more so had the back of the greenhouse been walled off from the rest. It was a claustrophobic space. Plants sat huddled on tables that lined the walls, hung from the ceiling, and covered the ground in little clusters.

“Got any idea where they might be?” he whispered. Dorcas, who’d been poking around a pile of foul-smelling cacti, just shook her head. He sighed. Squinting through the dark, he tried to make out the letters on the little shields next to each cluster. He slowly moved down the rows, checking each label while being careful not to touch anything.

“Here!” Dorcas hissed. Regulus hurried to her, leaning over a row of potted plants. “Let’s just grab a fistful of the green and slice them off- Did you take the knife?”

He nodded and pulled out his knife, usually reserved for chopping potion ingredients. “You hold the top, I hold the bottom and cut.”

They shimmied around, both taking a firm grip on the plant. Regulus set the knife and started cutting. He grunted with the effort, sawing through the thick, stubborn greenery. Finally, his blade slipped free, and Dorcas held up the fistful of leaves.

A shrill cry cut through the silence.

Regulus’ hands flew to cover his ears as he spun around, disoriented. A hand clenched down on his arm and started dragging him along. He stumbled behind, dimly aware as he ran into a workbench. The weight gave underneath him, sending chunks of plant and earth everywhere.

He shoved up, running through the rows, Dorcas right in front of him. They burst out of the door and into the fresh air, the screeching fading behind them

Dorcas stumbled, so he snatched her arm, dragging her along towards the castle entrance. Their steps echoed loudly as they ran through a labyrinth of corridors and stairs, finally ducking into an empty bathroom.

Regulus dropped to his knees, heaving and dry gagging as the world spun around him. He pressed his hands against the cold tile, finally unclenching his hands from the knife. Slowly, he flexed the fingers, watching as blood rushed into the white knuckles.

He looked over at Dorcas. She was curled up on the ground, gasping for air. Her face was hidden by her braids, flared out over her shoulders and the floor. In her hand, she was clutching the leaves in a death grip.

“I didn’t think it would do that.” she gasped.

“Aren’t you in herbology?”

“Yeah, and failing.”

As it turned out, they had been right to worry about getting their ingredients in time. Once November turned into December, the first snow started falling. In no time, Hogwarts was covered in a thick white blanket. In the morning, students walked past ice flowers blooming on windows into the Great Hall, in which the first small ornaments of greenery, fir cones, and red bows had started to appear.

However, not everybody was in holiday spirits. Instead of spending their weekends in Hogsmeade strolling through gold-lit alleys, looking at living gingerbread families in the store windows of the Honeyduke or sipping mulled wine at the Three Broomsticks, the sixth years could be found barricaded in the library trying to keep up with the ever-increasing avalanche that was their homework and exam preparation.

Or, in Regulus‘ case, shivering away in the barely heated quidditch changing rooms.

"Alright, let's bring it home. Full concentration, I don't want any of you diverging from the plan this time. Got it?"

Shouts of approval sounded from the rest of the Slytherin team. Talkalot turned around, clearly satisfied, and marched off towards the exit of the changing room.

The rest of the team followed her, excitement and nervousness mixing in the low murmur.

Regulus turned away from the others, fishing a small vial from his uniform and downing it in one swig. He almost groaned in relief as the taste of the pain potion spread in his mouth. How had he ever thought it tasted bitter?

Making sure nobody had seen him, he joined the team.

The potion was working its magic. By the time they had mounted their brooms, the stabbing pain in Regulus' ribs had faded

The gates creaked open, and the team shot out.

Cold air bit at Regulus' cheeks as he flew higher and higher, taking up his position.

He took a second to register his surroundings. Green and blue banners fluttered in the wind. The audience's cheering was deafening, only fading once Madame Hooch flew into the pitch. Both the pitch and the surrounding lands were a snowy landscape, only the evergreen breaking up the sea of blinding white. Regulus had to squint to see.

The whistle sounded and the quaffle was thrown. Regulus started circling, watching the game unfold from above. The Slytherins were good, but their recent failure had clearly thrown them off. The Ravenclaws quickly started amassing goals, with the Slytherins looking more and more unsure.

It felt like no time had passed before he saw it: a golden gleam on the opposite side of the pitch. Immediately, Regulus shot towards it.

He vaguely registered the other seeker following him. Regulus continued to race forward. His eyes watered from the wind. The cold bit at his cheeks and burned on his hand like boiling water. Regulus leaned forward.

It was right in front of him. He stretched his hand out.

It closed around nothing.

His own speed threw Regulus for a loop around a tower. Once he was back on the field, he spotted the other seeker flying down towards the snitch. It had suddenly dropped in height, now at eye level with the lower bleachers, right below Regulus.

But the chaser wasn't shooting down, idly flying instead. Clearly, he was sure Regulus wouldn't reach them in time. Not on a broom, at least.

Without another thought, Regulus let himself fall sideways. He heard the crowd roar as he slipped off his broom headfirst, curling up tightly to be as small but heavy as possible.

The audience's shouting grew even louder. Regulus was now close enough to see the Ravenclaw's cocky grin. Within a heartbeat, Regulus shot past him.

There it was. He stretched out his hand.

Regulus snatched the golden snitch right out of the air as he plummeted towards the ground.

He watched, almost in a trance, as the ground shot nearer and nearer. The snitch was cold in his hand.

He stretched his other hand towards heaven. "Accio broom" He heard himself shout, the noise muffled in his ears.

Looking up -or was it down?- he saw the broom floating below him.

Regulus splayed out his limbs and caught the brom, hooking both arms and a leg over it. His fall stopped with an abrupt jerk. His arms felt like they were about to pop out of their sockets, but they held. He clung to the broom as it floated down steadily. As soon as he was close enough, he simply let go and unceremoniously dropped to the ground like dead weight.

As if somebody had turned on the radio, the screaming and cheering from the crowd blasted into his ears. Lying on his back, he stretched out his arm, presenting the snitch.

Chapter Text

Barty's hair was soft as Evan drifted his fingers through it. They were lying in Evan's bed, Barty between his legs, back draped across Evan's chest, and head resting on his shoulder. Evan could see the gentle rise and fall of Barty's chest, rhythmic as the boy slept.

They were alone in the dorm, Regulus out for quidditch practice. Apparently, their recent win -and Regulus almost getting kicked out- had given the team new motivation for non-stop practices. The thought of his other best friend lodged a ball of ice-hot lead between the butterflies that had been resting in his stomach.

They hadn't told anyone about... them. Whatever that meant.

Nothing had changed. Barty still flirted with him, threw his arm around Evan's shoulder, bugged him when he was trying to study, called him Rosie. Yet everything had changed. Barty's flirting felt different when Evan knew the boy would pull him close and kiss him later. Now, when he threw an arm around Evan, Barty held on like his life depended on it.

But they hadn't talked about it. Not even with each other. Barty had never breached the topic, and Evan didn't feel inclined to do so either.

Maybe it was the ugly sensation of rot taking over his ribcage, his lungs and heart decaying with every glance he spared towards Regulus, with every look at the boy that wasn't the one currently lying in his arms. Looks that lingered too long to be innocent, conversations that left him starving, a heart that bore its teeth begging to be sated.

Evan knew it wasn't right. But he just couldn't. All this time of desperately watching from afar, only to have Barty ripped from his grasp the moment Evan could sink his claws into him.

He breathed in the boy's scent, that delicious smell that sent electric shocks through his brain, warmed by the flesh underneath. Evan suppressed the urge to bite down on the warm flesh.

Barty shifted lightly in his sleep, burrowing his nose into the crook of Evan's neck. Evan's breath hitches when Barty's soft lips grazed his skin, right above Evan's jugular. He tightened his grip and let his head fall to the side, burrowing his face in Barty's shoulder.

---

Snow fell silently from the dark sky. Fairy lights in the shop windows lit up the snowy alley, making the red, green, and golden garlands twinkle.

Regulus studied the passing faces, bundled up in hats and scarves.

The group made their way down the alley, passing the Honeydukes' candy-coloured windows. Clusters of people- students, judging by their scarves- had huddled up in front of it, arms overflowing with pink bags.

"I just don't think we can call it a holiday if we spend the entire time studying. I don't even know how I'm supposed to find time to buy presents!", Pandora complained.

"You could just do it now? There's lots to find in Hogsmeade.", Dorcas suggested, practical as ever.

Pandora shook her head vehemently, and Barty tutted: "Don't you know it's poor form to show people their presents before Yule, Miss Meadows?"

The group giggled at his stilted tone.

"You all already know what you're gonna get. After five years, there's not much surprise left, is there?" Dorcas rolled her eyes.

Barty shook his head and announced loudly: "See, that's where you're so wrong. You just have to think outside the box. For example, Rosie here thinks I'll get him a sketchbook, when actually I'm getting him a pair of lovely lace knickers."

Immediately, Evan's hand shot out to swat Barty's head, but he dodged it and cackled. A few bystanders shot them odd looks, and Barty had to stumble to the side to avoid running into somebody. Regulus grabbed the back of his jacket to pull him upright. Barty floundered back towards them and they resumed their chatter, walking idly towards the signature crossed broomsticks of the Three Broomsticks.

Regulus glanced over at Evan. He'd buried his face into his green scarf and was demonstratively staring at the ground while walking, face red.

The pub was bustling with people, crowded around every table he could see. The air was filled with the creamy smell of butterbeer, sharp cinnamon, and the fruity scent of mulled wine. Regulus had to squeeze through a sea of bodies to make his way inward, his skin itching from the contact.

He spotted Dorcas talking to Madame Rosmerta, looking around the packed Inn.

"...you'll have to wait till something's free, sorry lass.", he heard the Innkeeper tell Dorcas as he approached.

"What's the problem?" he asked.

Dorcas turned towards him: "Everything's full, even the back rooms."

A round of disgruntled noises sounded from the group.

"You reckon we should just leave? We can always hang out in the hall.". Regulus shrugged.

Dorcas groaned, exasperated: "But I'm fucking hungry. I don't wanna trek all the way to the castle with this." She held up her arms full of shopping bags.

"Uhm.. excuse me?", a voice piped up behind Regulus. He turned around.

A girl was standing behind him, a shy smile on her face: "Well, I overheard you talking, and well...", she anxiously started twirling a strand of her mousy brown curls, "My friends and I were just about to leave, so you can have our table if you want."

Regulus stared at her for a second, then schooled his features into a pleasant smile: "That would be amazing, thank you so much. As long as it's really no bother for you?" He smiled down at the girl, who turned beet red.

"Really- It's really no bother.", she squeaked. Then: "By the way, that move you did in the last game was really- cool. Yeah."

Regulus chuckled politely: "Thank you, that's very sweet of you. But it wasn't meant to be. Everything for the game, you know."

The girl confirmed enthusiastically. "We're over there in the corner, just follow me!"

"Seriously, mate? We were here first, we've been waiting for a free table for like ten minutes!", a boy standing at the counter with his friends complained loudly.

"Try and take it then.", came Barty's gleeful response. Regulus watched him throw up a few gestures his mother would definitely not approve of.

After shoving through the mass of people and another round of praise for Regulus' play, the group of girls left, and the members of the Ratking settled down.

"Wow, so you really totally didn't feel scared?", Barty imitated in a high-pitched voice, "I'd be so scared, right guys? You're so cool, gods, please let me suck your kno-"

Regulus flicked his wand, and a decorative piece of pine hit Barty in the face. "Jealousy doesn't look good on you.", he smirked.

"Aww, you think I look good?", Barty cooed. " But how could I be jealous after you restored the house pride we so shamefully lost after Avery, Mulciber, and Snape cost us over a hundred house points in one night?"

"How crazy, innit? How lucky you saw Snape, Regulus. Those two admitted to the whole dumb prank they were planning in the kitchen. And they instantly knew that it'd been Snape who pushed them." Dorcas chimed in, an unreadable expression on her face.

"Well, I'm just doing my duty as a prefect. And for you, Mr. Crouch," he gestured vaguely in the air, "Go green and cry your eyes out, wanker."

"Oh, please, call me Mister. Mr. Crouch was my father.", Barty replied. The group collectively groaned at his awful joke.

The bell over the entrance door chimed, barely noticeable over the chatter that filled the thick air. Regulus looked up and caught sight of one Remus Lupin. He studied the group alongside the older boy.

Sirius and fucking Potter were right behind Remus, chattering away. Pettigrew weaseled after them like always, followed by a red head of hair that could only be Evans. Next to her was a curly-haired Gryffindor whose name he couldn't remember, but he'd seen her around, and that McKinnon girl that Dorcas was tutoring.

Both Regulus' and Remus' group had now noticed each other as well. Dorcas sent a cheery wave towards McKinnon, which had the Gryffindor almost run into one of the wooden support beams in her way.

Regulus looked over at Dorcas, only to see her giggling into the sleeve of her sweater. In Salazar's name, did the person to catch Dorcas' attention, after all these years, have to be McKinnon? Why not somebody else? Preferably somebody who wasn't involved with Regulus' brother.

Speaking of. Regulus glanced over to where Sirius was standing. He was huddled together with Remus and Potter, unashamedly staring at Regulus while hissing something towards Remus. In return, Remus just rolled his eyes, lifting a hand to greet Regulus.

Regulus quickly greeted back and looked away. Even while he busied himself with his butterbeer, he could feel their eyes on him. He kept his head down until conversation started up in their group again. He looked up to see that they had moved away.

"If it isn't Hogwarts's favourite celebrity." Remus grinned as he turned the corner.

Regulus simply rolled his eyes. He was sitting on a windowsill in a small nook, hidden in an oddly shaped corner. The sun shone in through the stained glass window, coloured light bleeding across the stone walls.

"Congrats. Not many people outside of Gryffindor can say they got chewed out by McGonagall like that." Remus sat down on the windowsill opposite Regulus, his movements stiff and slow. He shrugged off his book bag. Dark circles sat below bloodshot eyes, his skin pale as the moon underneath his freckles.

"I was surprised it was her, to be honest. I thought she was one for the competitive spirit." Regulus mused. He handed Remus a book.

After the Slytherin team had swarmed him on the field to celebrate and made their way back to the changing rooms with Regulus ceremoniously carried on their shoulders, they had been surprised to see Madame Hooch next to the Head of House Gryffindor, towering over them like an angry banshee about to curse somebody's bloodline.

The following lecture had apparently been loud enough that both the Ravenclaws in the neighbouring changing rooms, along with every single person walking past, had been privy to hearing the entire ten-minute rant.

"Byron's Works" Remus read the title of the book, then turned to Regulus: "Oh, she absolutely is. When the competitive spirit is to absolutely crush the Slytherin team, that is." He chuckled.

"So you're saying it was favoritism?" Regulus raised an eyebrow.

"Oh no, if a Gryffindor had done that in a game against Ravenclaw, she'd have been spitting feathers too. If one of the Ravenclaws had used it to beat you guys, though, she'd probably frame their picture and hang it up in the great hall."

Remus accepted the book Regulus handed him. It was wrapped in a dust jacket, red with a picture of a boy lying in a flower patch on the front. Seven decades in the turbulent lives of two American families, it read in white bold letters. Then, below the text:

STEINBECK

EAST OF EDEN

"What is it about?", Regulus asked.

Remus studied him for a moment. "A family in America."

Regulus shot him an unimpressed look: "Well, thank you, I couldn't have gathered that from the big bold text from the front.

Remus shrugged: "That's what it's about. Guess you'll just have to read it."

Regulus shook his head, grinning.

Meeting up with Remus outside of patrols had not been something he'd ever have imagined, but they’d gotten to talking about literature one evening. Once Remus had started lending him books and Regulus returned the favor, it just made sense.

"But no, really. That was a really solid play, mate. Everyone said so."

Regulus preened at the compliment.

"James kept bugging me to ask you how you managed to train that move without anyone noticing."

He hadn't, but fucking Potter really didn't need to know that. Instead, Regulus just smiled mildly: "Guess he'll just have to see for himself. A master doesn't reveal his tricks."

Remus snorted: "McGonagall already had a talking to with the Gryffindor team. Apparently, she's going to demand for the move to be banned in Hogwarts. Something something ban of a similar move in the thirteenth century. Madame Pompfrey is already a big supporter, because of the injury risk."

"Yes, because a sport in which you ride on brooms hundreds of feet in the air is not at all a safety risk by itself."

"Well, if you want to lobby for Quidditch itself to be banned, be my guest. But just as a warning, you might want to switch schools afterward."

They grinned,

"Sirius was really impressed, too, you know. After he almost shit himself when you fell off." Remus' voice was soft.

Regulus scoffed: "Sure, he was. Terribly worried, I would imagine."

"He was."

"He didn't bother showing up when I was in the hospital for almost a week. He doesn't care. He doesn't even see me as his brother anymore.“ Regulus spat, ignoring the sting of his eyes. „And why should he? He's not a Black. We're not brothers."

"So, you don't see him as your brother?", Remus prompted.

Regulus knew what Remus was doing. But he couldn't, not with Potter and their parents and the Dark Lord and their houses and Sirius' pathetic little coward friends still standing in their way.

There was no way Sirius would come back to him if they were still on opposite sides of the war, with his hatred of their parents fuelling his stubborn morality play-pretend. Sirius would never come back to Regulus if Regulus stayed a Black. Not as long as their parents were alive and defined what it meant to be one of them.

For now, there was just no way to reach him. Regulus knew how closely Sirius had already aligned himself with Dumbledore, putting his nose into a pot on the brink of overflowing. Sirius could get killed before Regulus even had the chance to get him back.

Regulus looked up at Remus, jaw clenched with determination: "I do. He's my flesh and blood, a name won't change that. For me, at least. But ... Our family doesn't forget. And they certainly won't forgive. They‘ll take every chance they can to get to him.“

Worry sparkled in Remus‘ eyes. Good.

„I have to go. Potions starts soon“, Regulus grabbed his bag and slipped out their corner.

Chapter Text

The halls of the Slytherin dorms were vacant as Regulus walked through them. He appreciated these quiet moments after patrol, left alone to his thoughts, sorting through them like thumbing through a book.

Making sure not to disturb his roommates, he quietly pushed open the door to his room.

The first thing he noticed was that the candles were still shining. The second thing was Barty, sitting in Evan’s lap as they enthusiastically made out.

Regulus froze.

Silence spread between them for a moment, until Barty jumped up: "Oh great, you're back. Listen, mate-"

"We're sorry we didn't tell you.", Evan cut in, shooting Barty a look Regulus couldn't read.

Barty nodded: "It's just- we hadn't even talked about it yet, so-"

He was interrupted when Regulus waved his hand and chuckled: "Oh, don‘t let me interrupt." He grinned at them.

"Are you sure?"Evan was frowning, narrowed eyes pinning Regulus like an insect. Regulus just smiled back.

"Sure sure, just hang a sock or something outside the door next time. Wouldn't want to have to bleach my eyes because you two can't keep it in your pants."

"Now you're just being a knob.", Barty grinned and chucked a pillow at Regulus as he passed him, "Our pants were perfectly on, thank you very much."

Regulus laughed and ducked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

He snatched up the glass with his toothbrush in it, but it slipped, shattering on the cold tiles. The crash echoed in the small space.

Clenching his shaking fist, Regulus drew his wand. He muttered an incantation, but nothing happened. With a clenched breath out, he waved his wand again. This time, the shards of glass were slammed back, flying against the lower wall and shattering even further.

Regulus stumbled back, clenching his hand at the corner of the tub. He drew in a breath. Shouldering open the door, he muttered an excuse at the other two as he fled the dorm.

Regulus found himself in a dark, empty classroom. The wind was howling outside, rattling the windows. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, spiderwebs hanging from desks and chairs. He took a slow breath.

The first blow from his wand sent a desk scraping across the room. The second one shattered the nearest chair, broken shreds of wood flying everywhere. Curses shot through the room like fireworks. A wayward flame shot up as he raised his wand again, singing the ceiling above. Pushback from a particularly heavy blow send Regulus stumbling, clutching onto the remains of a teachers desk.

He was panting for air, hands digging into the splintering wood, as he looked around the destroyed room.

“Shit.”

Regulus glared at the door. Next to him, Evan glared too. The door glared back.

They'd been sitting, crouched in a shadowy corner of the dungeons opposite the potions classroom, for about fifteen minutes now. The plan had been for it to be maybe five. What on earth was taking so long? Was Slughorn chatting off Barty's ear about his life story?

Finally, the door slammed open, louder than necessary, and Barty and the Professor emerged. "... But don't worry, I'm sure the book is in my study. I've been working on a-uh... a medicine for Madame Pomfrey and must have forgotten it. Either way, I must say Mr. Crouch, it is lovely to see you've taken such an interest potions. What is it again that..."

The two disappeared around a corner, and Evan breathed a sigh of relief, mirroring Regulus' own. What a shame. He really appreciated Evan as a friend. The boy always seemed to know what he was thinking. But maybe that was just another part of the problem.

The boys made their way over to the heavy hardwood door and slipped in, shutting it quietly.

Barty would go in and chat Slughorn up about wanting to do more independent research into potions, and did he have this one book Barty was looking for? Slughorn would look for it but not find it, so naturally, he'd take Barty up to his office and look for it, none the wiser that Regulus had actually nicked the book a few days prior. That would buy Evan and Regulus enough time to look for the moth chrysalis around the classroom without anybody noticing.

Once they were in, Evan immediately moved towards the ingredients chamber, crouching down to start working away at the lock. Regulus drifted towards the shelves along the bare stone walls, barely giving them a glance. His eyes were locked on Evan.

The walk towards Slughorn's office took maybe four minutes. Regulus had laid the book directly on Slughorn's desk after returning it this morning, so there was no way the man would miss it. Two minutes in the office. Four minutes back. Barty was good at distracting, but even he wouldn't be able to push against Slughorn's iron will to close up the classroom and inhale his body weight in whiskey. So, fifteen minutes tops.

Regulus pulled out his pocket watch. Almost ten minutes had passed.

Evan was still working away at the lock. Regulus picked up a few bottles and rifled through some feathers lying around, but Evan seemed too focused on the lock to notice anything. Regulus continued wandering, nearly pacing along the shelves. He pulled out the watch again. Twelve minutes.

Regulus' knuckles turned white as he strained to listen to anything outside the door. Nothing. Maybe Barty had actually managed to distract Slughorn for longer?

There- footsteps, so faint they were barely audible.

At the same moment, he heard Evan's triumphant little noise and the telltale click of a lock opening.

"Do you hear anything outside yet?"Evan asked over his shoulder as he pulled open the door.

"No." Regulus moved closer.

"Can you hold open the door? It doesn't have an inside knob." Evan was already inside and rummaging through various little cupboards.

"I know." Regulus answered, and with one last shove, the door fell closed. Another click announced the automatic locking.

"Regulus?"

He heard Evan rattling the door from the inside. Without sparing another glance, he hurried out of the room.

Chapter Text

Dorcas watched as the snowy landscape flew by.

The train rattled every so often, making the department doors clatter faintly. The rhythmic drumming of the wheels faded into the background, bleeding together into soft droning. A family of deer stood out on a snowy field, dark silhouettes against the blinding white.

Leaving for the Christmas holidays was always an odd feeling, like a break in the record. But Dorcas had never considered not going. The thought of not seeing her family was as absurd now as it had been when she was a first grader. Not to mention that all of her friends returned home, and despite her love for alone time, two whole weeks would get boring pretty fast.

A door clattered open, and footsteps sounded out. They were familiar: heavy and crass, a pair of combat boots begging to be noticed. Dorcas didn't turn when they halted next to her.

"Seeing something you like?" There it was. The Irish lilt that had been making her heart flutter for months now. Dorcas turned around to face Marlene.

"Now I am.", Dorcas smiled, watching intently as a furious blush spread over the other girl's cheeks. For a few heartbeats, Marlene just stared. Dorcas cocked her head.

"Oh- em- yeah... me- me too. I see- I mean I like what I see."

Dorcas couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. For somebody so flirty, Marlene was incredibly easy to tease.

Taking pity on the sputtering girl, Dorcas switched topics.

"Your friends finally let you go? Shocker."

Marlene's lopsided grin made her stomach coil like a snake. "Oh yeah. Peter brought cards, and they wouldn't let me go until we finished the game. Remus and his long legs blocked the way. I finally got to leave when he had to go to the prefect's compartment, to keep the little Black some company or something . God Almighty, that lad's got some stompers on him."

"Going to need them to get from London to Wales."

"And what am I supposed to do?", Marlene threw up her arms. "Taking a train all the way to London, and then I can't even use floo or port keys like the rest of you. One day, my parents will just tell me to stay at Hogwarts because they got so sick of driving hours just to get to London."

Dorcas bit her lip, not mentioning the fact that this was going to be Marlene's last Christmas in Hogwarts. Some things didn't need to be said.

"So, you're excited to get back and see your parents?" Dorcas leaned against the window. Marlene mirrored her position, stretching out long legs clad in ripped plaid pants.

"Aye, it's class. It's just... with how everything's been going in the wixen world..."

Dorcas nodded. Lord, did she know.

"It just feels so useless.", she stated after a moment. Marlene turned to look at her.

"Having to watch, I mean. It's like...", Dorcas hugged herself, grasping desperately at the fabric of her cardigan, "Like we all know it's coming, but we're all stuck. Just waiting around for anything to happen." Her nails dug into the soft wool under her fingers. Sheep's wool, how fitting.

Silence hung between them. Had she said too much? Maybe Dorcas should've just kept it to herself, like always.

Gentle fingers pried apart her fist, lacing with hers until their two palms were slotted together perfectly. "I know what you mean." Marlene whispered.

Dorcas looked down at their interlocked fingers, then up at Marlene. The other girl wasn't looking at her, staring intently at the floor in front of her. And Dorcas knew that she did.

"But maybe it doesn't need to be that way."

The words were near silent, yet their sound was deafening in the silence. Dorcas studied Marlene. Pale blond hair fell shaggy around her heart-shaped face like a halo, glowing in the sunlight. Freckles dusted across her high cheekbones. She was chewing on the inside of her cheek.

Dorcas looked back down at their hands, her thumb brushing across chipped black polish, the ghost of a touch.

"What other option is there?" she asked. Inside, she was pleading. She didn't know if it was for or against Marlene having an answer.

Marlene hesitated, hazel eyes coming up to seize Dorcas' gaze.

"There are... some people. They are fighting. Making a difference. They asked..." She mulled over her words for a moment. "They offered that we could join them. Help them, make a difference."

"What did you say?"

Marlene's head snapped back. "I said yes, of course! What else?"

"You're not even out of secondary school yet. That's a bit young to join a... war alliance, don't you think?", Dorca kept her voice soft.

Disbelief coloured Marlene's face: "The Death Eaters won't care if we have our diplomas or not once they come for us. This isn't a discussion about the legal drinking age or some shite."

Dorcas sighed. Joining a war right out of secondary. That's one way to fill up your resume. She thought of her friends further down the train. Evan’s father had been with the Death Eaters from the very beginning. Pandora. too, would inevitably be caught between the fronts. Regulus had never stood a chance. Barty would throw away any choice he had if it meant he could still the craving for attention inside him, even for a second.

What if Dorcas was wrong, and her friend's hatred for their families didn't outweigh what they'd been raised to be. What would she have left?

If somebody wanted to play with child soldiers, Dorcas would march right alongside the other pawns. Until it was her time to play.

She squeezed the hand in hers. "Something needs to be done."

She could see Marlene's nod out of the corner of her eye.

"If I asked you to join with me, would you?"

Dorcas lifted her head and smiled at the other: "Well, are you?"

---

People always said karma was a bitch. Barty cared to disagree. You see, it's not like karma is actually doing anything. It's all up to you. Fate, on the other hand? Now that was a proper cocksucking, dodgy-deals back-alley slag. One with a mean right hook.

So, as was fate's job, she fucked him over.

He spotted his mother almost immediately after splitting from his friends on the platform. Chocolate brown curls pinned back under a boater hat, hands deep in the pockets of her woolen trench coat with poofy sleeves.

And she wasn't alone. His father had the face of somebody who had just tasted sour milk. The usual whenever his son was involved.

Barty hissed through his teeth. With a jerk, he grabbed his luggage and dragged it after him as he loitered over. His mother's smile was warm as she stretched out her arms, but he could see the tension around her eyes. Nonetheless, he ducked down and buried his face in her shoulder. Her embrace was warm, the scent of lavender perfume and home filling Barty's nose.

He kept his head bowed even after they'd let go, letting her hold his face in between slim hands and fuss with his hair, muttering about how tall he'd gotten. Never mind that they'd seen each other just four months ago.

He looked down at her, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulders, and wondered when she'd gotten so small.

Finally, he willed himself to peel away from her and turn towards the uninvited guest. His father hadn't made a single sound since his son had arrived, and even now, he only spared Barty a kurt nod.

"Eveline, shall we go?" The man didn't even look at Barty.

Barty had given up any expectation for his father years ago, yet the anger still managed to rise in his throat. Why the fuck was he here? The old bastard hadn't bothered to pick him up from the station for years. This was for Barty and his mum, their little slice of paradise before being thrown right back into the acidic cesspit brewing in their home.

„I have to piss.“, was his only answer.

He ignored his mother chiding him for his language and went off.

The door to the toilet door slammed shut behind him. He hadn‘t thought he‘d need this so soon, but alas… Trust the old fuck to ruin his day.

He dug in the inner pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out the flask hidden inside.

The firewhisky burned as it went down and was empty way too quickly. But warmth pooled in his stomach, and the pleasant buzz of alcohol settled into his blood and brain.

His father didn‘t even bother looking up again once he arrived back. Barty gritted his teeth and stuck close to his mother-but not too close, lest she smelled the whiskey- as they made their way to the portkey.

Chattering wixens stood around the three bright red phone booths hidden in a corner of the station. Barty watched as his father immediately turned his back towards his family, putting on his best politician smile to chat with forgettable faces in fancy robes. Eveline, too, was pulled into the conversation, smiling politely, all warmth drained from her face.

Barty could feel his stomach churning. He stumbled as the world around him started turning. Shit. He willed himself to just breathe and stand upright, but to no avail. Another wave hit him, and he grabbed the closest thing to hold himself upright.

He looked up into his father‘s infuriated face: "Bartemius, what in-"

There it was.

Barty leaned forward, still clawing at his father's shoulder as he spewed right on his robes. Sick splattered all over them, the pavement, and at least five pairs of shoes.

All noise around them froze, only interrupted by Barty's heaving. Eveline was the first to gain back her composure, gripping him by the shoulders and prattling something apologetic about Barty "not being well". His father stayed silent, his entire body stiff with what must have been shocked.

Barty's mother started dragging them both towards a phone booth, still flinging around apologies like they were bludgers at quidditch.

The journey home was deathly silent.

Stepping out of green flames, Barty only caught the tail end of his father's robes billowing as he stormed off.

Eveline was standing off to the side. Barty could see the disappointment in her misty grey eyes. They were in the sitting room of the Crouch estate. The gold stucco on pale green walls gleamed in the sunlight. Arched windows led out to the sprawling garden, hidden underneath a blanket of gleaming snow.

He wiped at his mouth with his sleeve, looking away. He straightened and strutted towards the exit, keeping upright as best as he could.

"Barty."

His mother's voice was quiet. He stilled instantly. He heard her sigh. She nodded her head towards the door in the corner. Silently, he followed her, stepping into the guest bathroom. He watched as she wet a cloth in the sink.

"Sit." Her voice was soft, despite the command. Barty perched on the toilet seat next to her. She wrung it out and turned towards him.

"You don't have to, I‘m basically sober-"

Eveline ignored his protests and wiped the cloth over his face. Barty promptly shut up.

Silence hung in the air. His mum dabbed gently at his face, removing the dried vomit. She washed it out and moved on to his shirt. His leather jacket weighed heavily on his shoulders.

"We're gonna have to ask Winky to clean that.", Eveline muttered. Barty didn't look at her. He shrugged, mumbling something even he himself didn't understand.

She sighed again. The dabbing stopped. Barty heard the squelch of the wet cloth dropping into the sink.

"I'm glad you're here, dearie. The house always feels so empty when you're away."

He leaned forward, burying his face in her stomach. Gentle hands stroked through his hair. He wanted to cry. His mother felt fragile under his arms. When had she become so thin?

Her hands came up to cup his face, gently lifting it. Barty looked up at her. She smiled down at him, her face so wistful it hurt. "Your father... he's trying. Please just give him a chance."

"Is that why he showed up today?" Barty scoffed and looked away.

He could see Eveline's nod from the corner of his eye. "He's trying to fix things. Do right by our family. I know he isn't... perfect, but-"

"Was it his idea to come today?" he asked. The sink was dripping quietly. A sparrow landed on the windowsill. It hopped around, cocking its small head. Dark eyes looked at him.

His mother stayed silent. Barty gave a humorless laugh, pulling back. The hands on his face dropped, hanging limply by her pale blue skirt.

"He's trying.", she whispered.

---

Bustling dress robes and gowns fluttered around him like birds scrambling for crumbs on the floor. When Regulus was small, he and Sirius used to make shooing motions at anyone who came too close, hoping they'd flutter away like scared pigeons.

The annual Yule ball held by the House of Black had always been an extravagant affair. The ballroom glistened with hundreds of thousands of jewels, dotted around the walls, on gleaming white table cloths, adorning every neck and wrist in the room.

Regulus himself was dressed in clean-cut black robes, with a fitted torso decorated almost like a military uniform, sharp shoulders, and long, flowing sleeves. The heavy velvet of the garment pulled at his shoulders, and the constant clinking of the little silver charms all across his chest and shoulders made him want to tear his hair out.

"Young Mister Black! What a pleasure to see you."

Regulus turned around. A group of men in gaudily expensive robes stood across him. He smiled and joined them, exchanging meaningless pleasantries, laughing at their poor jokes, and thanking them for their birthday wishes.

He scanned the group. Most of them were business friends of his father, old and grayed just like the man. One of them, however, stood out.

With a champagne glass in one hand, and a smile that teetered too close on smug for Regulus' liking, stood Lucius Malfoy. Regulus scanned the room for his cousin, or any other member of the Malfoys. He caught a glimpse of Narcissa's bleached curls but lost sight of her quickly.

While the Malfoys and the Blacks frequently did business with each other, the Malfoys tended to delve much deeper into aristocracy and politics than the Blacks, who preferred to widen their influence through trade and business deals. So it came as a surprise to Regulus that Luscious, a Malfoy particularly known for his networking within the Ministry, was wasting his time with old businessmen- men who had long given up on using their influence in any matter that wasn't getting a hippogriff egg delivered early for a tea party.

Regulus let the endless chatter wash over him, throwing in a few comments and approving nods, but choosing to observe otherwise.

"... of course, it would be quite beneficial to collaborate between the two branches. Just think of the potential for expansion!" Malfoy would have to watch his step so he didn't slip on the puddle of sweet talk dripping from his voice.

"Mr. Malfoy, I must say, I didn't expect you to be so invested in business." his opposite chuckled, a knowing gleam in his eyes.

"Second that. I've heard you've been quite successful at the ministry. How come the sudden interest in the trades?"Regulus chimed in, sipping on his champagne and hiding his grin beneath the rim.

He swore he could see Malfoy's eye twitch as the older man turned towards Regulus, sending him a sickly sweet smile. "I'm glad to see my efforts in the ministry being appreciated. But, as a wise man once said, branching out is never detrimental."

Doesn't exactly roll off the tongue. Regulus bit back his remark and wondered if Lucius himself was said man.

"But as you said yourself, I'm no businessman. Which is why I've sought advice from the best ones I could think of." Malfoy raised his glass at the round. "I am quite serious about the future of the House Malfoy and the House Black. My wife's family is like my own, after all."

There it was. Lucius wasn't nearly as subtle as he thought he was. Grouping together both houses and namedropping Narcissa as a shared link to convince the businessmen that the suggested joined eterprise had actually been their idea. So early on, it was a dead giveaway.

The conversation moved on and Regulus quickly excused himself, turning to slither between groups to the grand doors.

So, Lucius wanted to have a piece of the Black business, if not the whole thing. It made sense. The Blacks were the richest family in all of Britain, and with their original heir out of the picture and the other one still in school, the future of the family was more fragile than ever. The war brewing on the horizon had already done considerable damage to the Black business. Not necessarily financially, but in showing all of the wixen world just how lethargic and reclusive the Head of House Black had become. The official one, anyway

In business, what mattered were signatures on parchment. No matter how headstrong his mother moved, if her husband continued to deteriorate, the entire ship would threaten to sink.

"Think of me as another one of your cousins, from now on. I look forward to getting to know you better."

Regulus had to suppress a scowl at the memory. It had been on Narcissa's wedding day, and he'd gotten roped into standing next to the groom as his cousin had danced with her father. Despite being much younger, Regulus had immediately been put off by the man's artificial familiarity.

Moving from the ballroom to the sitting room, Regulus quickly spotted his mother chatting with an older couple in flaming red gowns. He caught her eye and gestured for her. She turned back towards the two, and, after speaking for another few moments, made her way over to Regulus. The room was fairly empty, so Regulus had no problem finding a quiet corner.

Walpurga Black was an imposing woman. She was tall, towering over her opposite, looking down at them with piercing gray eyes. Her face had sunken in with age, yet still retained that striking “Black” appearance. High, sharp cheekbones and a defined brow, the same angular face that she shared with her sons and husband.

Her dark curls were pinned back tightly on the back of her head, held high with unwaivering pride. She wore a dark green dress with a cinched in waist, with shoulder padding sharp enough to cut a man and the boned corset underneath fitted so tightly it looked more like armor than a garment. Her neck was covered by a standing collar, decorated by a necklace of green tourmalines and matching earrings.

She joined him, pulling up an expectant eyebrow.

"Lucius is in the ballroom, talking to father's business partners.", Regulus reported, keeping his voice low. Walpurga's face didn't move, but she beckoned for him to move on.

Regulus leaned forward. "He was talking about wanting to join branches with their business, to 'branch out' for 'the good of the Malfoys and the Blacks'." He drew out the last words. Her distaste was evident in the small snare pulling at her lips.

"Who was he talking to?" she demanded.

Regulus listed off their names. "... but Mr. Pickett was the one he was talking to about the joined branches, so I'm guessing he wants to go for banking first."

He watched as something flashed through his mother's eyes. She was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "We'll keep an eye on him. In the meantime, some of our younger guests are in the drawing room, discussing...politics. Go join them, will you? Make sure he knows we‘re still part of the conversation." He nodded. She stood from where she'd perched on the armrest of a sofa, hands clasped tightly and back straight as a board."Thank you, darling."

---

"Are you sure one pie is enough? I mean, we're so many people... Who's coming again? Fleamont, Euphemia, James, Sirius... Oh Lord, are the Pettigrews coming too? Maybe there's time to run to the store and fetch some more mulled wine, at least..."

Remus watched in mild amusement as his mother fretted around the kitchen, already dressed in her Sunday coat. They had done this song and dance every year since James had found out in second year that it was just him and his mum for Christmas, and invited them to celebrate with his family.

"No, the Pettigrews are celebrating with their family up in Tynemouth. And don't worry about the wine, you know the Potters have an entire cellar full of it."

Hope sighed and forced herself to stay still. Wringing her hands, she checked over everything on the chipped wooden counter: a pile of gifts, a pie the size of her head, and her going-out scarf, in pristine condition and carefully mended.

"Okay," she said, more to herself than to Remus, and started packing the pie and gifts into bags. Remus stood up to assist her, a fond smile on his lips.

They left their tiny cottage, the wooden door creaking loudly as it closed behind them, and made their way down the narrow path.

They arrived at the fence. The paint on the little gate, once a beautiful sky blue, was now chipped. The hinges creaked dangerously as Remus bowed down to push it open, and layers of snow dropped from the crooked top. A stab of guilt went through Remus as he remembered how he'd been promising to paint it since third year. He'd do it this summer.

The portkey to the Potter's house was hidden inside a small tree group; an old, rusty key dangling from the branch of a birch.

He handed over the second bag to Hope and grabbed her hand with his, the key with the other. Counting down, he felt the telltale swoosh of his stomach. He held on tightly and screwed his eyes shut until his feet met solid ground. Remus opened his eyes and turned around.

The Potter ‚house' was more of a Potter estate, a massive but homely building in the middle of a beautiful garden, where dozens of flowers bloomed in the summer. Now, it was all covered in a thick blanket of white, only a small stone path having been shoveled free.

Remus and Hope made their way to the front door, Remus carrying the two bags and his mother hastily swiping over her coat and adjusting her scarf.

Before Remus could even knock, the door flew open, and something flung itself at him. He stumbled back a few steps, careful to keep the bags out of the way. Quickly, he recognized the long black curls smushing across his face and laughed as he dodged Sirius' attempts to wrestle him into a headlock.

"He saw you coming through the window and just took off," Remus recognized Euphemia's deep but soft voice, the smile evident in her voice. "Here, let me take that." That was Fleamont. The bags were taken from his hands, and now he was free to push off Sirius' arms and put the smaller boy in a headlock.

"Don't be too rough, dear. Just because you don't need the cane today doesn't mean you should overdo it." The genuine worry in Hope's voice made him stop and straighten up. "Sorry, Mum,"

Sirius, too, straightened up and threw a bright smile in his mum's direction that made Remus' stomach flutter. "Yes, we're very sorry Hope. Begging for forgiveness, basically."

His mum rolled her eyes but couldn't keep the smile off her lips.

"Well, don't freeze on." Fleamont laughed and beckoned them inside.

---

“I was quite surprised, you know.”, Evan said at the ceiling. What used to be an intricate stucco design was now cracked and stained. Like most things in their childhood home, the pearly white long since faded into a splotchy grey.

Pandora made a questioning sound from the other side of the room. She was sitting on her bed, folding clothes to put into her trunk. Evan hadn’t even bothered unpacking, his own trunk sitting at the end of his bed, clothes thrown in half-hazardly.

“You always talk about the beauty in death, how the fact that we’ll die one day makes every moment the most lovely one we'll ever experience. Why do you suddenly want to immortalize him through a violent death? Wouldn’t it make more sense to kill him as unspectacularly as possible, so he can fade from existence and meet his absolute demise? To never have his name uttered again and be forgotten forever?”

She’d said as much to him over their Yule dinner. It hadn’t been much, a roasted duck with orange glaze, potatoes, and cooked red cabbage, followed by abûche de Noëlcake. The meal had taken place in the breakfast corner of the kitchen. The floorboards of the manor’s dining room had rotted through years ago and couldn’t be stepped on anymore. Meanwhile, the last drawing room with intact windows was occupied by their father, rambling and raving on about voices warning him of foxes and hummingbirds.

“Yes, if he were any other person.”, she smiled, continuing to wrap newspaper around the watercolour set Evan had gotten her. “But that only works under the assumption that the person lives a life in which they honour the importance of death and use every waking moment to its fullest extent.

A person is most alive when they're fighting their demise, like a dog dragging itself around despite havingcrippled legs and a broken jaw. It fights death with all it has, focusing entirely on a single task. It makes the most of every moment it has left, giving its everything for a goal. Our own mortality inadvertently becomes our biggest motivator.

Drinking liquor for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, uncaring how one is destroying the mortal vessel that carries you, isn’t that. It’s a pitiful existence.

Even the people seeking death out directly,” she cast him a glance, “understand that it is the most beautiful thing we can have in our lives. How can something we dedicate our lives to, from the very moment we were born, something that has fascinated and frightened mankind since the beginning, be anything but the most beautiful thing on earth?

But people like him don’t see that. They live every day waiting for the next to come, numb to the world around them, yet also apathetic towards their own certain death. They neither crave nor fear their demise, simply wasting away without a spark of passion.

I want his last moments to finally teach him how to live, fully. I want him to hold onto life for as long as possible. And then, I want him to be freed from the agonizing existence he leads.

We both know that if he survived, he'd simply go back to his old ways. Keeping him alive any longer would just be cruel. I don't want him to keep suffering. I love our dad.”

Evan stayed quiet. He watched as his sister carefully placed the watercolour in the trunk, humming a melody.

Chapter Text

King’s Cross was bustling with life. Left and right, muggles bushed past them. They kept their distance intuitively, veering around the pair. The two stood a few feet apart, hands clasped behind their straightened backs in mirroring positions.

“The world is ever-changing.”, Walpurga said, mustering the passing figures. “Our family didn’t achieve greatness by bending to the whims of the people. We stood firm in our traditions and beliefs. We aren’t defined by society; we are a cornerstone. We define it.”

Regulus nodded.

“I trust you’ll carry the responsibility with the same grace that all your ancestors have.”

“I will.”

She turned to him, just for a second. He caught the flicker in her face. Softness and hatred. They’d become one a long time ago. Without another word, his mother turned heel, leaving Regulus alone on the platform.

He grabbed his luggage and pushed forward.

As soon as Regulus stepped on platform 9 ¾, he heard somebody call out his name. Further down, he saw Pandora waving at him from where she stood with the others. He straightened his shoulders and went over to them.

He had barely talked to any of them since Barty and Evan had ended up in detention. Back-to-back studying, exams, quidditch training, and patrols had been a merciful relief, leaving him with barely enough time to get a few hours of sleep and grab food on the go. During the train ride to London, he hadn’t even needed to make any excuses about why he stayed in the prefect’s compartment.

Evans and Potter, head girl and boy respectively, had insisted they go over the new patrol schedule. He and Remus stayed together, thank god, but had been moved to a slightly earlier timeslot.

His friends greeted him with big smiles, and Dorcas continued to gush about the letters McKinnon had written her during break.

“Regulus,” Evan said once she’d finished. “How did you like your gifts?”

“Oh yeah!” Barty turned towards him, too. “I’m hoping the book is okay as a Yule and a birthday present? I never know what to gift to people, and with you, it’s always two at once.”

Regulus chuckled at that, relaxing slowly. He hadn’t even realized how tense he’d been. “The book is big enough to knock somebody out with it, I think it counts.”

Barty grinned at him and opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the whistle of the train.

The new year had brought on another load of snow, now piling up almost knee-high, with more coming down on the daily. All classes that took place outside the castle, including quidditch, had been canceled for the foreseeable future.

Unfortunately, this included Quidditch, despite protests from the teams. Regulus had been in a foul mood ever since. It was unsurprising, then, that he found themselves sitting side by side with Evan, who was upset about Care of Magical Creatures being canceled. They were Pandora's bed, watching Dorcas and Barty play chess.

The two were perched on the floor, both staring at the board in deep concentration.

"Rook to A3.", Dorcas announced after a prolonged silence.

A cheer from Barty. "Bishop to A3."

The sound of sliding, and then a heavy crunching noise.

Dorcas leaned back, a smug grin on her face as she popped her knuckles. "Ah ah ah Crouch, you're getting sloppy. Bishop to-"

She stilled. Evan snorted, and even Regulus couldn't help but grin.

"Where's my bishop?" Slowly, her glare wandered from the chessboard to a very self-satisfied Barty.

"Well, Meadowes. You see, in this game we call chess, figures have a habit of leaving the board-"

"Toss it, arsehole, I know that rook hasn't been captured. Did you steal my figures again?" She hissed and lunged.

Evan doubled over with laughter, and Pan almost fell off her armchair as she giggled.

"Give it back, you bastard, I know you have it!"

"Oh but Miss Meadowes- what will the people think?" Barty cackled as Dorcas grappled with him, trying - presumably- to search his pockets.

"You always do this-"

"I must say, you are quite forward, young gentleman-"

"This is why nobody wants to play with you-"

"A proper lady like me? Now I would never-"

"Just admit you can't beat me in a fair match!"

The two of them started rolling around the floor, the discarded chessboards knocked over, and the scattered figures scrambling back to their feet.

Regulus was holding his stomach, laughter coming out in almost painful bursts. Evan was wheezing next to him, tears streaming down his face.

The match had apparently ended. Dorcas got up and gave a cackling Barty one last kick for good measure. A scratching from the window disrupted them.

Regulus looked over and spotted Ariadne, his owl, pecking at the window. Her dark eyes gazed in through the window, two black voids in the pale heart-shape around her face.

Pan cracked open the window and offered her hand. Ariadne took a languid step forward onto her arm, though slightly indisposed from the package tied to her leg. Pan shut the window and reached over, letting Ariadne step onto Regulus' outstretched hand.

Softly, Regulus ran his hand over the feathers of the owl's head. She twisted her head in that uncanny way that owls liked to do and nibbled on his fingers, stretching out her leg with an air somewhere between smugness and impatience. Regulus chuckled. "Drama Queen."

"I swear on everything holy- that thing is human. Or possessed.", Barty interrupted.

Regulus and Ariadne turned their heads to send him matching unimpressed looks, while Regulus took off the package. It was bigger than his outstretched hand, but incredibly light. He unwrapped the paper. A simple wooden box made of ebony, with no carving.

A small card fell onto Regulus' lap when he opened it.

Dear Mr.Black,

We at The Sayre Emporium Flowers & Bones are honoured to have you as our customer. We hope the order is to your fullest satisfaction, and look forward to being able to serve you in the future.

-Yours truly, M.Sayre

Inside the box, atop moss green silk, rested a row of glass tubes containing cocoons.

Silence fell over the group as they perched around the box, all of them deep in thought.

"I reckon it's time then?", Dorcas said. They shared looks, then nodded. Pandora pulled open a drawer and handed them the mandrake leaves. Even though they'd been cut a while ago, they seemed perfectly fresh. Regulus let his fingers drift over the surface. Still soft. A spell for keeping them fresh, no doubt.

"Well then, cheers." Bart mimed toasting with the leaf, then popped it in his mouth. The others followed him.

"This is so weird." Dorcas’ face scrunched up. Regulus nodded in silent agreement. Spit was already starting to collect in his mouth, and he couldn't figure out where to store the leaf, so he wouldn't swallow it. Oh Salazar, would it look like he constantly had spinach between his teeth when he spoke?

"I just don't see why we should care about some lad's obsession with a random lass. They knew each other for a few nights, and then they went apart- big deal. It's not like she ever did anything for him to warrant those feelings." Regulus shook his head and set down White Nights by Dostoyevsky. It was a thin paperback with a light binding. On the cover, a man was drawn, looking down, away from the couple in the background, lovingly embracing each other.

Even on the cover, the protagonist was a coward. Regulus scoffed internally. If he wanted her so bad, then he should go take her, not roll over and lie still like a carpet. Why he wanted somebody who very clearly didn't want him, had even explicitly asked him not to fall for her, was beyond Regulus. Why want somebody who couldn't give you anything at all? No affection, no servitude, not even money.

Remus chuckled, perched up opposite Regulus on the windowsill. "I don't think most people necessarily choose to fall in love. It just happens."

"And then?", Regulus frowned.

"Then..." Remus seemed to trail off, lost in his own thoughts. Now that wasn't suspicious at all. After a small pause, he continued: "Depends on the person. You can hope that they feel the same, or just... give them up."

"Wow, Lupin, you must be real popular around the tower with that kind of approach."

Remus laughed at Regulus' dry remark: "No, I'm good. Not looking to break hearts."

"So you'd reject them?" Regulus arched an eyebrow.

Remus shrugged. "Well,wouldn't be interested in them, so..."

Regulus watched the blush spread across the other boy's face. He squinted. By Salazar, he knew what that meant. How to proceed? Regulus wasn't interested in Remus' love affairs, obviously. Something so trivial didn't bother him. But knowing just who the older boy was pining for could be quite beneficial.

Picking his words carefully, not letting his sudden change in demeanor be obvious, Regulus asked:

"Well, what do you think he should've done?"

Remus seemed to ponder over that for a while, then shook his head: "I don't know. Not really much to do except... be there for them. Be their best friend, even if you know it'll never be more than that."

"Sounds masochistic."

The older boy smiled, but sadness hung over his face like a veil.

Regulus didn't break the resulting silence. Maybe Remus would spill some more details. Who could it be? Best friend, Remus had said. Pettigrew? No. From what Remus had mentioned, while they were best friends, Pettigrew never seemed noticeably closer to Remus than the others.

Potter? Now that was more likely. With him dating Evans, Remus could be living out his very own White Nights. Only that they'd known each other for years instead of a week, and Potter was probably a much less pleasant conversation partner than Nastenska. But again, that closeness that Remus had talked about... Regulus just couldn't see it.

Regulus squinted at Remus. The other boy squirmed under his eyes, the blush on his cheeks deepening. Even though Remus himself had mentioned several times that Sirius and Potter were best friends, Sirius and Remus seemed to be attached by the hip, just like...

Motherfucker.

Oh Salazar, no.

Now that Regulus thought about it, he should've known.

"You're in love with my brother, aren't you?" Regulus leaned back, eyes still drilling holes into the other boy.

Remus full body flinched, "What- no- no, why would you even...." He stammered, freckled hands compulsively parsing through the pages of his book.

Regulus fixed him with an unimpressed look. Christ, now he had to adjust everything to this new intel. Thanks a lot, Lupin. "Spit it out, or I'm running off screaming through the Gryffindor dorm right now."

Remus sighed and threw up his hands. "Yes, fine, maybe I am. I have my very own Nastenska, who happens to be your brother. What about it?"

It was Regulus' turn to sigh. A school crush was the last thing he could use right now. Crushes were messy, and more importantly, short-burning. A quick but intense spark of heat that fizzled out and left nothing but awkwardness and resentment behind. Not the type of emotions you'd want between your... target and the only person connecting you two.

But, if a relationship like that could survive... Disobeying your partner was an entirely different deal than disobeying a friend.

"For how long?"

"What?" Remus' head snapped up, clearly not having expected an answer. Besides screeching, maybe. "Fucking hell, I don't even..."

Remus' hand now graduated from roughing up the book pages like they'd insulted his mother to tearing through the boy's light brown curls. Another sigh. "I don't think I even realized it at first. It just snuck up on me and then one day I realized what it was. He‘s just so-"

"I really don't need to hear you waxing poetically about my brother. Our ancestors might have a tradition of keeping it in the family, but I like to think we're a bit more modern than that."

Regulus ignored Remus' choking on air and continued: "So I'd ask you to just answer the question."

He waited until Remus had calmed down, sputtering and coughing in his arm crease. The older boy cleared his throat. "Third year, I'd say. Didn't realize it until the beginning of the fifth, though."

Regulus' eyebrow resumed its elevated position: "And since then, you've been... what? Silently pining after him with no intentions of ever doing anything about it?"

Remus nodded, but at least he had the decency to look embarrassed.

Regulus turned toward the window, looking out onto the white expanse, and muttered to himself: "Salazar's cape on a pole, what a numpty."

Remus just lifted a brow at Regulus' glare. "It sounds like you want me to go after Sirius."

"Why should I care about his dating life? Date him or don't; as his brother, it's all the same to me. But as your friend, obviously, I'll tell you to go after what you want. All that self-sacrificing whinging gotta stop at one point."

To Regulus' utter surprise, Remus just grinned at him. "Well, glad to have your approval."

"I just told you I couldn't care less, but sure. What else is there to say?"

Regulus turned his attention back to the book in his hands, but he could feel Remus' eyes on him. After a few moments, the silence became too oppressive and he looked up, meeting the Gryffindor's eyes. "What?"

Remus cocked his head, kind of like a dog, and studied him intently. "Rosier and Crouch...", he started softly. Regulus' muscle tensed up immediately. "They started dating, right?"

"How did you know?” As far as Regulus knew, he was the only one who’d found out.

“Caught them making out in a stairwell on my way to potions.”

“What a surprise.” Regulus muttered.

"How did they end up in detention?"

Regulus shrugged and grinned, "I don't appreciate being kept in the dark by people who call themselves my friends." Remus' eyebrows twitched slightly, but otherwise, he didn't show any reaction.

"So if I update you on every development regarding Sirius, you won't feed me my own tongue for breakfast?" he asked, mouth pulling into a smile.

"I'd never serve tongue for breakfast. That's a dinner dish."

Remus hesitated before asking: „But they weren‘t... mad?“

Regulus just shrugged, turning back to the book.

Remus eyed him for a second, then picked up his own.

Cold seeped into Regulus‘ burning skin as he pressed his back to the cool glass. The surface of the drink he was clutching vibrated slightly at every beat of the bass. The music was loud enough that most of the partygoers would leave the Slytherin common room with hearing damage, but nobody seemed to care.

They were currently head-to-head with Gryffindor, and with their unusually high amounts of points scored this season, Slytherin was running a very real chance of winning the quidditch cup.

A good chance for all Regulus‘ fellow students to drink like they were trying to get into an underage drinking prevention ad.

Not that he was much better. The drink he was clutching was his fifth of the night, some vile mixture Dorcas had had pressed into his hand before disappearing. The entire room was spinning, and that all-too-familiar nausea had announced itself not too long ago. All of that paled in comparison to the sheer heat burning through Regulus‘ system, no doubt caused by the spliff he’d had earlier.

Sweat trickled down his neck, and he knew his face must be sporting the most horrible flush. He let his head tip back and pushed a hand through his curls, sweat-slick and sticking to his forehead.

He pushed up the sleeves of his shirt: made of black, feathery light silk, with a wide collar and the top buttons undone. It was a casual look, favoured by the pureblood youth who sought to distance themselves from their parents' stuffy high-collars and lace, yet wouldn't let themselves down to wear muggle clothing.

A cold breeze brushed across Regulus‘ skin, and his gaze wandered towards the open entrance door.

Without hesitation, he pushed off the window and staggered his way over to the entrance, paying no mind to the people he bumped into. With both hands- where had his drink gone?- he pushed open the large door and stumbled outside.

Finally, the boiling heat let up, replaced by the cool air of the dungeons. It was dark, only singular torches burning along the walls, illuminating small clusters of people standing around.

Regulus turned and made his way down an empty hallway, away from the voices. His fingers slid over the cold stone in an attempt to keep himself from stumbling as he looked for… honestly, he wasn‘t sure himself. Where were the others anyway? He continued, the question out of his mind as fast as it had come up. The cold started to creep in, making him shiver.

He wandered own the dark hallways, his feet scraping over the rough stone, causing him to stumble multiple times. Finally, he spotted the dark entrance into an alcove. He dragged himself in and promptly bumped into something soft.

„Reggie!“ The lull in Barty‘s voice instantly gave away how drunk he was.

„Not...“, Regulus grunted, trying to get his feet to move him around whatever Barty was lying on. Somehow, he ended up stumbling, kneeling on it.

„Come to join us?“ Evan‘s warm voice sounded out from somewhere next to- below him? Regulus grunted again, crawling on all fours onto what he discovered to be pillows stacked on the ground.

„You, yes, him-“, he nodded in Barty‘s direction, now a dim outline in the candlelight shining in from the hallway, „no.“ Regulus let himself drop onto the sea of pillows, turning around until he was on his back, shoulder pressed against Evan‘s.

Barty responded, but Regulus couldn‘t find it in himself to care. His shivering had intensified, shaking him so hard is teeth started to chatter.

„You cold?“ came Evan‘s voice from his left. Regulus nodded, clenching his jaw. There was a rustle next to him, and then Evan was there, curling an arm across Regulus‘ chest. The heat of his body burned against Regulus‘ as he went completely stiff for a second.

Soft fingertip dragged up and down his exposed forearm, touch soft enough it could be an illusion. Slowly, Regulus relaxed, letting his head fall back. The room was spinning around them, round and round.

Regulus giggled, suddenly giddy with excitement.

„Seeing something you like?“ Regulus could smell the alcohol on Barty‘s breath with how close the other boy suddenly was. Regulus turned his head, finding his friend's face mere inches away from his.

Regulus let his head fall to the side, way heavier than normal. „What if I do?“ he asked.

Barty just looked at him for a second, eyes gleaming in the dim light. Then he reached out over Regulus, grabbing onto Evan and pulling both of them closer to him. Regulus was encapsulated with warmth. Barty shifted and buried his neck in Regulus‘ neck, taking a deep breath.

„How unbecoming, Crouch. What will your fair lady say?“ Regulus chuckled, slurring over the words.

„Nothing at all.“, came from the other side. Regulus‘ smile widened.

„Rosie isn‘t the jealous type.“, Barty smirked. „He‘s real well-mannered. Loves to share.“ His eyes sparkled like he’d just made a fantastic joke. Evan, too, chuckled lowly. Regulus squinted, trying to make sense of it.

„Don’t worry your pretty head about it.“ Evan said.

Regulus frowned „But I want to know.“

Evan looked at him, his smile melancholic. „You do, don‘t you? “

Regulus nodded. Then he felt Evan‘s fingers on his jaw, gently turning his face. Regulus was about to retort, but was interrupted by Evan‘s lips.

He was soft. And warm.

Regulus‘ stomach felt like it‘d flipped around, warmth racing through his veins. Evan‘s lips were gentle against his, a mere brush. Regulus leaned forward, burying his hand in Evan‘s dreads, demanding more. The smell of alcohol, herbal shampoo, and tabak was in his nose. He could taste the cigarettes on Evan as he deepened the kiss, pulling the other boy closer.

Regulus broke away, lungs burning from lack of air, his hand still buried in his friend's hair. Evan stared up at him, breathing heavily through spit-slick lips.

He lifted his head to look at Barty sitting next to him. The harsh light painted deep groves and angles, his eyes gleaming in the shadow of his socket.

Barty grinned and reached out, one hand on the back of Regulus‘ head and the other on his arm. His grip was firmer than Evans, and so was his kiss. Firmer but soft, filled with heat. Barty wasted no time, trailing his tongue over Regulus‘ bottom lip before deepening the kiss, messy and with teeth.

Another hand snuck its way around Regulus‘ waist, and Evan followed, pressing himself against Regulus‘ back. Barty and Regulus broke apart, gasping for air. Another little, more chaste kiss, and Barty moved over to Evan, kissing him deeply.

Regulus lay back, grinning to himself.

Chapter Text

 "So," Dorcas grinned, "Congratulations." 

Evan groaned, letting his head fall back into the water bowl with a splat. Dorcas cursed silently as the murky water sloshed over the edge and onto her crossed legs. She flicked his forehead and moved his head back into the bowl. 

"Pan told you?" he guessed. 

Dorcas snorted. "She didn't have to." Carefully, she scooped up some of the liquid from the bowl and let it run over his hair. The smell of apple cider vinegar, lemon juice, and baking soda stung her nose. 

"But seriously, you told Pan and didn't tell me?" 

"He didn't have to." Dorcas could hear the smile in Pan's voice, coming from above her. She felt the cool sensation of gel being applied to a section of her hair. Then, a slight tug as Pan started braiding, slowly weaving in the extra hair. 

Evan sighed where he lay on the ground, head hanging over the bowl as his locs soaked. 

They were in his dorm, sitting in the middle of the room. They used to do this in the neighbouring bathroom, but once they'd hit fourth year the small room had become too cramped for all three and they had to move. 

They were set up in a line; Evan in the front as Dorcas washed and re-twisted his locs, and Pan behind Dorcas, taking out her braids and putting in new ones. This usually very time-consuming task was sped up by Pan using an auto-braiding spell. She used it on each braid after starting the section, leaving the hair to do itself. Once she was done, she'd move in front of Evan so that he could take out and redo her braids. 

Dorcas let the murky liquid disappear with a wave of her wand and a muttered incantation, filling the bowl with clean water. She looked around the various bottles and tubs scattered on the floor. Creams, gels, oils, combs, conditioning- and hair-care potions surrounded her in a colourful mess. 

"Pan", she tapped the other girl's arm. "Do you see the shampoo?" 

Pan silently passed her the bottle. Dorcas muttered a thanks before turning back to Evan, massaging the shampoo into his pale hair. 

"Did you and Barty talk about it?" she asked, feigning nonchalance. “Before the party, I mean.” 

She’d been caught up chatting with some upperclassmen and hadn’t noticed the three boys disappearing. Only later in the night had she spotted them returning to the common room, looking distinctly dishevelled and with some rather telling marks. 

Evan shook his head. 

“But are you three an item now or not?”, Pan asked from where she was now perched in front of Evan. 

He grunted, busying himself with picking apart Pan’s braids. 

Dorcas smirked to herself, “Sore spot, huh?” 

“You three could do something for Valentine’s Day!”, Pandora suggested. He grumbled under his breath. 

“Guess that’s a no.” 

“What about you, Pan?” Evan asked. “What are you doing for Valentine’s Day?” 

“I just started a new painting,” came the answer. “It’s on theme.” 

“Let me guess: It’s the butterfly man.” 

Pan narrowed her eyes at his dismissive tone. 

Dorcas looked between them. “Who’s the butterfly man?” 

“Why can’t you just give dating a shot?” Evan continued on like he hadn’t even heard her. “I’m sure there’ll be lots of people happy to go out with you if you just give it a chance.” 

Pan’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she shoved upright, her usually cloudy eyes cutting: “That’s rich coming from the bloke who ran after his best friends for years.” 

“I just meant you could give it a shot-” 

But Pandora had already stomped out the room, a lonely braid still dangling from her loose curls. 

Dorcas whistled, “Good job, Rosier.” 

--- 

Regulus didn’t mean to run into Sirius. Regulus had been prepared to not talk to Sirius again for a long time. It had been two years since his brother had so much as acknowledged Regulus’ existence, and Regulus was perfectly happy returning the favour. 

They’d met in the Owlery. 

Regulus had a few letters he wanted to send off after practice, so he’d excused himself from his friends and had made his way up to the tower. 

As soon as he pushed open the large gate, he spotted Sirius. The older boy was leaning a wall, staring into space in clear agitation. His gaze snapped to Regulus when he entered, eyes cold. 

Regulus didn’t let his brother's presence intimidate him. He wasn’t a little child anymore. Instead, he just continued his way over to Ariadne, turning his back and pretending he was alone. 

Ariadne hooted quietly when Regulus came closer, stretching her pale face to nibble at his fingers, clearly expecting treats. Regulus, never one to deny her, pulled out a dried cricket and watched her scarf it down, petting her head. 

“Still sending letters to mommy and daddy? Getting a bit old for that, aren’t you, Reggie?” Sirius drawled. 

Regulus ignored him, pulling out the stack of letters and making to fasten it on the owl’s leg. 

Behind him, Sirius barked out a laugh without a hint of humor: “Daily letters, it seems. What, is sucking up to that old bat not enough?” 

Steps closed in on Regulus, stopping only a few feet away. “Let me guess: she started keeping that leash tighter after you fucked up the quidditch game in front of the entire school?” 

Regulus kept his head down, staring at the floor. He willed himself to breathe. Sirius was just pissed and looking to pick a fight. Regulus could feel the stabbing in his ribcage, pain searing through his side under the strain of his lungs. 

“When I’m mad”, Remus had said, “I just fixate my eyes on one spot and squeeze my thumb in the same hand as hard as possible.” 

Regulus stared at the latch of the window. He pushed it open and let Ariadne flutter out. He pressed out a breath. Forced his lungs to expand and let in air, then let it out again. 

“Do you want anything in particular, or do you just hang out here to enjoy the smell of owl feces?”, Regulus asked, his voice strained. 

“Planning a little something with friends, not that it’s any of your business. I have things to do.” 

“Yet here you are.” Regulus turned around. “Covered in bird shit.” 

He jerked his chin at Sirius’ shoulder, where a big splash of white decorated the black leather of his jacket. Sirius cursed under his breath and pulled out his wand to clean it. 

He straightened back up and looked at Regulus, one brow pulled up: “What are you staring at?” 

“I was waiting for you to move out of my way, but it seems you’re particularly slow today.” 

Sirius waited for a second, demonstratively, then took a step to the right with an exaggerated bow, ‘welcoming’ Regulus in the direction of the door. 

“In a hurry to get to a date?” he mocked. 

Regulus started walking, then stopped. He had half a year until Sirius left school, along with Remus. 

“The one your brother runs after like a lost puppy?” Barty’s voice floated through Regulus’ head. 

He looked back over his shoulder. 

“Since you’re so slow on the uptake today, let me give you a hint: Remus sent me a card when I was in the hospital, so I figured I’d return the favour for the special occasion. Turns out he’s quite the romantic when you know him like I do.” He gave a knowing smirk, then turned back and swept through the door, leaving behind his brother’s shell-shocked figure. 

„You know, I was quite surprised to find out we‘re apparently shagging. From your brother, no less.“ Remus said with false innocence. It’d been a few days since Regulus had met Sirius. 

 The only change so far was the glitter that had dropped from the incoming owls the next morning, covering the entire student body. At least now he knew why Sirius had been up there. He still found remains stuck between the pages of his books. 

Regulus hummed in response. He‘d wondered when Remus would bring it up. 

„I just felt like returning one of the little pranks he‘s so fond of. Brotherly bonding.“ He glanced at Remus, who looked deeply unimpressed. „And maybe give him a little push in the right direction. Did it work?“ 

„He came storming into our dorm, started yelling, and now we haven‘t talked in over a week.“ 

Oh. Regulus hesitated. „That‘s unfortunate.“, he said, staring straight ahead. 

„Maybe keep my friendships out of your brotherly bonding, alright?“ 

Regulus could hear the carefully concealed anger thrumming beneath the surface of Remus‘ voice. Always so restrained, that one. 

„Maybe you should stop calling it that.“, he suggested, voice blank. 

„What?“ 

„Friendship. Your friend,“ he stretched the last word, „seems quite upset over the thought of you in a relationship. Not to overstep, but that doesn‘t sound very friendly.“ 

Remus huffed, frustrated: “He‘s pissed because he thinks I‘m defiling his little brother behind his back. This has nothing to do with...“ He let the sentence fizzle out, waving his hand in the air. 

„With the fact that you two have been pining for each other for the past three or so years?“ 

„It‘s not pining. Sirius is not one to pine.“ 

„ Not if he knows what he wants, no.“ 

„So what are you suggesting?“ 

Regulus rolled his eyes: „Show people what they wants.“ 

„Or maybe respect their wishes, what about that?“ 

Remus's snide tone made Regulus stop dead in his tracks and turn to face the other boy. „You can‘t be serious. 

Remus, people are idiots. They want something, but get hung up on this and that. So they keep to themselves, wishing that somebody would come and give them what they want. Save them from their shitty life, make the first move, you name it. “ 

„And you know what they want?“, Remus challenged. 

„I know the people I care for.“ 

„That‘s not your responsibility, or right.“ 

„Oh, spare me the Gryffindor speech.“, Regulus grimaced. Remus should be smarter than that. „Just talk to him.“, he relented, tone more cordial. He needed this to work. 

„If I do, will you promise not to stick your nose in my business?“ 

Regulus sighed: „I promise I will not do anything unnecessary.“ 

„That‘s not what I asked.“ Remus leveled him with a stare somewhere between smug and stern: „I asked you to keep out of my relationships, no matter what. If you want me to spare you the Gryffindor schtick, spare me the Slytherin thing.“ 

Regulus sighed, once more: „Okay. I will stay out of your relationships, I promise.“ 

Remus regarded him for a bit longer, then nodded. He turned around and started walking again.. 

„So, what about you?“he asked. 

„What about me?“ 

„Shifty as always. Mind telling me what‘s with the weird staring between you, Rosier, and Crouch?“ 

Leave it to Remus to never leave anything alone. Ever. 

“Like I said, we made up.” 

„And then?“, Remus probed. „You sang a few songs together and started braiding each other's hair? 

Regulus shrugged, staring ahead: „I don‘t think any of us have hair that‘s long enough to braid.“  

Pandora had tried, on many occasions, to braid his, before relenting and settling on giving him a tiny ponytail at the nape of his neck. Regulus had quite liked it before Sirius had started wearing his hair the same. 

They walked in silence for a bit, Regulus staring ahead stoically. He heard Remus take a breath, as if to say something. 

„We kissed.“ 

Regulus didn‘t know why he said it. It really wasn‘t anything that concerned the other boy. The surprise was written on Remus‘ face. 

„Oh- so… You and Crouch or you and Rosier?“, he settled on after a minute of stunned silence. 

Regulus bit his lip. 

„Regulus?“, Remus probed. 

Regulus sighed. „Both.“ 

Remus looked, if it was even possible, more stunned than before. „Like… seperately, or…?“ 

Regulus, still staring straight ahead, shook his head. 

„Huh.“ was the only thing Remus managed. He‘d stopped walking, and Regulus turned to him. „Honestly, I didn‘t think it was going to turn out like that.“ 

„Believe me, I didn’t either.“, Regulus answered, walking over to a window. He cracked it open and gestured for Remus to hand over a cigarette. He snorted and pulled out the pack, presenting it in an exaggerated bow. 

They lit their fags and started smoking. 

„So“, Remus started after a deep inhale, „tell me what happened.“ 

“You’re such a gossip, you know that?”, Regulus snapped. Remus just grinned at him. 

Regulus groaned in frustration: „I don‘t even know myself. It just- We were at the afterparty from the game against hufflepuff. And those two had holed up in one of those nooks in the dungeon, and we were all really fucking drunk.“ He shrugged, letting his head fall against the window frame. 

Remus stared at him, deep in thought. „‘S that mean you three are an item?“ 

Regulus shook his head: „I don‘t know. Didn’t really get the chance to talk.“ 

He saw Remus‘ grin from the corner of his eye and swatted at him: „Piss off, it wasn‘t like that.“ 

„Are you sure, cause it very much sounds like it was like that.“, he cackled. 

Regulus huffed, but couldn‘t help the smile that spread over his face. 

„Well, would you want to? I didn‘t really get the sense that you were into them.“ 

„I‘m not sure.“, Regulus mumbled. 

Remus’ tone was dry as he replied: „Aren‘t you a beacon of decisiveness today.“ 

„It’s the truth, I can‘t very well just say yes or no if I don‘t fucking know, can I?“, Regulus shot back. He took a deep inhale of smoke and blew it out. 

„I just never really thought of them that way before.“, he relented. „I thought they were fit, objectively, but not if they were to me.“ 

He thought back to that evening, the soft touch of Evan‘s lips against his, the brushing sensation of Barty‘s fingertips, burning against his skin. 

„Can‘t exactly say that I hated it, though.“, he mumbled. 

Remus hummed, leaning out the window next to him, a cold breeze playing with his hair. „What about before, when you fancied people in the past?“ 

Regulus felt the heat shoot into his cheeks. His gaze locked into the glistening waves of the black lake, avoiding Remus‘ eyes. 

„I haven‘t really...“ 

He heard the rustle of clothes as Remus turned towards him: „You never fancied anyone? Ever?“ 

Regulus shook his head. 

„Didn‘t know that was a thing.“, Remus remarked. 

“Yeah I know, okay?”, Regulus snapped. 

Remus held up his hands “Didn’t mean to offend. But with them… It‘s both?“ 

Regulus thought for a second: „I can… see myself with both of them. Realistically, I don‘t think it would work, only two of us.“, he dropped his head forward and groaned: „Why is this so fucking complicated? “ 

Remus laughed and put a comforting hand on his shoulder: „Welcome to the world of teenage dating. It‘ll only get worse from here.“ 

Regulus made a defeated noise under his breath: „What should I do?“ 

„I‘ve been running after your brother for years, and you‘re asking me for advice?“ Remus laughed. „But think about it- you‘re in a pretty good spot. Both of them clearly like you back. Just“, he shrugged, „give it some time. See where it goes.“ 

„Great,“Regulus sniped without any real heat in his voice, „Sitting around and waiting.” 

Chapter Text

„Are you busy next Saturday?“ Marlene asked, idly playing with one of Dorcas‘ braids.

Dorcas had her hair in the other girl‘s- her girlfried‘s, she smiled to herself, they were girlfriends- lap, her legs spread on the arm rest of the couch they were sitting on. The Gryffindor common room was essentially empty, with only a group of first years crowding around the chessboard on the other side of the room.

Dorcas smiled up at Marlene: „Why? Are you planning to ask me out?“

Marlene made a face of deep concentration, rubbing her chin: „The questions you ask me, Meadowes.“

Shaking her head, Dorcas said: „Well, if you were asking, I‘d say that I am indeed free.“ She watched as Marlene‘s face split into a grin.

„It's a date then.“

„So what are you planning?“

Marlene‘s face split into a grin, as she lowered her voice: „Moody- one of the aurors in the Order- invited us to meet up in the Hogshead. He wants to take a look at the other people we invited.“

Dorcas cocked an eyebrow: „Our date is gonna be a recruitment session? Way to make a girl feel special, McKinnon.“

A flash of worry crossed over Marlene‘s face, but it faded when she saw Dorcas‘ teasing grin.

„We can go for a walk at the forest edge before, if you want something more romantic.“

„How about afterwards?“

Marlene snorted: „I know you‘re brilliant at duelling, but believe me, you‘ll never want to move again after Moody puts you through the wringer.“

„Duelling?“Dorcas asked, surprised, „You said he just wanted to meet us.“

„Those two are pretty much the same for him. We had to do it too.“ Marlene‘s grin widened, her cheeks bunching up and creasing her eyes. „You should‘ve seen Sirius‘ face after Moody put him on his ass after barely a minute. He was all cocky too, volunteered to go first.“

„Glad you‘re not making me worry.“

Marlene rolled her eyes: „You‘ll be fine. Probably more than fine.“ Her hand drifted over Dorcas‘ hair. She was quiet for a moment, but Dorcas could tell she was gearing up to speak.

„What are you going to tell… your friends?“she asked, peering down at Dorcas. Dorcas‘ friends‘… political beliefs had been decidedly ignored so far, both of them dancing around the issue without ever breaching it.

„I‘ll tell them we‘re on a date.“ Dorcas gave her a smile. Marlene nodded but stayed quiet.

---

„Dorcas, drink!“ Evan crowed, enthusiastically gesturing at the Queen card she‘d just flipped. The forgotten bottle of firewhisky in his hand swayed and promptly spilled onto the floor.

„Lies! Slander! Treason!“, Dorcas shouted back, her pointing finger so close to Evan‘s face, Regulus was scared she‘d take out his eye. In response, Evan snatched one of the four cards lying in front of him and held it up, revealing it to be another Queen card.

„Take a double!“ Evan cackled, swaying back and forth.

Regulus counted the rows of the pyramid of cards lying before them. They‘d just revealed a card in the third row, meaning Dorcas would have to take six shots.

With a dramatic groan, she fell to the side and onto Evan‘s lap, clutching at his shirt: „Please have mercy.“, she groaned, her words slurring together. „I already had to take two the last round because of Regulus.“, she batted her lashes up at Evan.

Regulus giggled to himself, a bottle of wine cradled in his arms. He‘d forgotten when he picked it up, but a swish told him there was only a little left. He took a swig and placed the empty bottle to the side with a too-loud clank.

The boy‘s dorm was brightly lit. Regulus could see his reflection in the dark window, faceless and faint at the edges. The thrum of rain against the panes was overcut by the noise inside.

Regulus‘ head felt heavy. He let it tip backwards onto the mattress, twisting his neck until he could see on top of the mattress.

“You sure this is a good idea?” he asked. Barty shot him a grin from where he was lying, shirtless, Pandora bowed over him.

“Reggie!”, he beamed, as if he’d forgotten that they were in the same room. Regulus squinted.

Pandora slapped at Barty as he tried to roll over. Her tongue stuck out between her lips as she crouched over his left pectoral, focused on pushing the inky needle into his skin, dipping it back into the small pot, and repeating.

“Stop fussing, I’m almost done.” she chided. Her head, too, was swaying dangerously.

A flash of light lit up the room through the room. Regulus turned around, looking for whoever set off the spell. Then, a loud crack.

Immediately, the entire room went silent. With bated breath, the kids looked around. Another flash, this time clearly coming from the window, followed by rolling thunder.

Regulus scrambled upwards, leaning heavily against the bed and tipping over the empty bottle in the process. The others followed suit, scrambling and tripping over themselves in the process. Evan slipped on the cards laid out on the ground, and Regulus barely managed to catch him. Pan climbed over Barty, his tattoo already forgotten, and hurried to Evan’s trunk. From within, she pulled an old, frayed bookbag.

They all scrambled to pull on shoes and coats. Regulus ended up with a white fur cape with little bows on the collar.

Barty stormed out the bathroom carrying a bucket of water. It splashed over immediately, drenching the cards and empty packets of snacks spread around the room. Regulus stopped in the middle of trying to tie a shoelace and shot him a look.

“If one of us turns into a fish, you’re gonna be real grateful this is there.”

They hurried through the rain, running straight for the forest edge. Once inside, the merciless onslaught of rain calmed, leaving only a dribble.

Without any lanterns, Regulus’ eyes took some time adjusting to the darkness. He heard the others too, their run now slowed to careful treading as they picked their way through the wet undergrowth. And, more than once, the thump of a stumbling body hitting the ground or an unsuspecting tree.

Little waterfalls descended from leaves and tree twigs, dropping onto the ground with a constant splat splat splat,  and running into tiny streams that made their way down the muddy trails.

Regulus’ hair clung to his face, fat droplets of rain hanging from his lashes. He tried to wipe at them but immediately, more followed suit. A cold wind blew, making the trees around them croak ominously. Regulus shivered and pushed forward with renewed vigor.

“Here we are.”, Pan announced. Regulus looked around. They were in a clearing, small enough that the trees overhead still formed a roof to keep out the worst if the rain. He was, however, surprised to find the shrieking shack only a few meters away from them.

He wiped his face again and grabbed the cape, pulling it off and placing it, carefully folded, on the forest floor. Dorcas cursed from where she was fiddling with the buttons of her shirt, leaning heavily against a tree.

With chattering teeth, the group stripped down to their underwear. Regulus crossed his arms over his chest, his muscles slowly starting to hurt with the effort of shivering. He knew he should feel distinctly exposed, standing only in his trunks in a dark forest in the freezing cold rain, but the alcohol was warm in his stomach and light in his head. He laughed to himself.

“Who’s gonna start?” Barty asked, jumping on the spot. If it was from the cold or impatience, Regulus didn’t know.

“Let’s just do two at a time and get this over with. Enough people to watch out if something goes wrong.”, Evan managed to get out between chattering teeth. “I can go first.”

“Me too.”, Regulus said. They both stepped into the middle of the loose circle they’d formed.

Pan reached into the book bag and handed them both the carefully labeled phials. Another flash cracked over them.

He shot a look at Evan, who returned it with a nod. They placed the tips of their wands over their hearts and recited: “Amato Animo Animato Animagus.”

Regulus held the bottle to his lips and downed it in one go. He screwed his eyes shut. Beating next to his own hammering heart, he could feel the second heartbeat.

Nothing happened.

Regulus frowned. Had something gone wrong? Had the phial been disturbed? What if-

Suddenly, a searing pain shot through his heart. Regulus gasped and clutched at his chest, his wand dropping from his hand.

Faintly, he could hear somebody speak. All he could think about was the burning pain spreading to his limbs, throbbing in tandem with both heartbeats. He doubled over, hands curling into the wet grass, only they closed around nothing. Something flashed in his mind, trying to push its way in, but Regulus refused.

Slowly, the pain subsided. Regulus opened his eyes. Next to him was a massive, orange animal. He tried to veer back, but he tripped and hit the ground. When he tried to push himself up his arms wouldn’t cooperate, only flapping uselessly around. What on earth was he?

“Hey, hey...you’re alright, Reggie.” Barty was crouched in front of him, except Barty was also massive. He held out a hand, like you would with a spooked animal. Regulus stopped scrambling and fluttering- what?- hastily. He tried to say something.

“It’s just fine, Reggie. Come on, come here.”, Barty’s soothing voice said. He still had his hands held out, now slowly moving towards Regulus. Regulus held still and let Barty scoop him up, holding him comfortably in his palms.

“Looks like someone got a proper spook, eh?”

Dorcas appeared next to Barty, glowing wand in hand. “Here.”, she held out a small pocket mirror for Regulus.

He blinked in surprise. In the mirror, a magpie blinked back.

Huh. Not his first choice, but a very practical one. He turned his head to and fro, studying himself with beady little black eyes.

Eventually, he decided he’d seen enough. He shook out his feathers and simply jumped off Barty’s hand. The fluttering on his way down was clumsy, but it felt instinctual. Would he be able to fly?

He turned around. Upon further inspection, the other animal turned out to be a red fox, which was now sniffing at Regulus intently.

Regulus pecked at him. Better to make sure Evan didn’t get tempted to take a bite. He started walking around, circling the fox. With another flutter and some turning, he was comfortably sat on top of the fox. Regulus laughed and heard it come out as a chatter.

“This is amazing.”, Pandora said, reaching out and letting her finger drift gently over Regulus’ small head. His eyes drifted shut, and a low trilling sound escaped his throat. Pandora cooed, scooping him up with ease. He looked down to see Evan receiving enthusiastic head scratches from Barty.

“A cute as this is.”, Dorcas said from behind, her wand shaking in her trembling hand. “Would you mind turning back? I don’t fancy catching a chill.”

Ragulus was deposited back on the ground, and Evan stood back up, much to both their obvious disgruntlement.

Regulus closed his eyes. He felt the second heartbeat in his chest, much slower and steadier than the frantic beating of a small magpie. He focused on it, conjuring an image of his human body.

There it was again, the burning in his limbs. It was less painful this time, more like heat spreading across his body.

“Should’ve brought spares.”, came Dorcas' dry voice.

Regulus opened his eyes. He was sitting in the wet grass- butt ass naked. He sighed, pulling up his legs to allow for some privacy. “Mind reaching me my trousers?”

Dorcas did, demonstratively not looking at Regulus as she did so. Pandora, too, stood with her back towards him. Only Barty was looking at him, a grin on his face and clearly enjoying the view. Regulus tossed a rock at him before turning around to pull on his sopping wet trousers.

When he caught a glance at Evan, he was still wearing his trunks, busying himself with pulling on his shirt. Regulus dressed, the cold slowly creeping back into his limbs. He hadn’t even noticed it was gone.

Pandora and Barty stepped up next, phials in hand. Regulus pulled out his wand and lit it up, trying to get a closer look.

The two recited the incantation, then Barty held up the bottle. Pandora tipped hers against his in a silent cheers, then they downed the potion in one go.

Almost immediately, Pandora started shrinking. Within the blink of an eye, she was gone. In her place sat a barn owl, her white face shining in the light of their wands. Regulus let out a laugh. They'd fucking done it.

Before Regulus could stew in their victory, his attention was caught by something on the side.

In front of Regulus stood an animal that only mildly resembled a dog. He had a dark snout and big, round ears that were pulled back as he shoved a wet nose against Regulus’ hand. His dotted fur was shaggy but soft as Regulus ran a hand through it.

“Didn’t think you’d end up as something this cute.”, Regulus murmured, dropping onto his knees so Barty didn’t throw him over with his enthusiastic sniffing.

He looked over at Dorcas and Evan, who were admiring Pandora, sat on Dorcas’ arm. “Any idea what Barty might be?”

“Could be some sort of wolf?” Evan guessed.

Dorcas laughed: “Do none of you know what a hyena is?”

Evan and Regulus exchanged a confused glance.

“They live in Africa. The World About Us had a segment on them.”

“Is that some Muggle book?” Regulus squinted.

“It’s a show on telly. They show different kinds of animals from other continents and how they live. Just like your moving pictures, but longer and with sound.”

“Ah. Yeah.”, Regulus vaguely remembered Dorcas trying to explain Muggle technology to them over the years. “So he’s some sort of African dog?”

“Not exactly, but close enough.”

Regulus stepped back and watched as Pandora fluttered onto the ground. The transformation back was just as quick as it had started, and within the blink of an eye, both were human again.

Last up was Dorcas.

She seemed the most relaxed out of all of them, and before anyone could even say a word, Dorcas had muttered the words and downed the potion. In her place sat a long, black snake.

The snake swayed back and forth before she managed to lift her head up. Unblinking eyes stared at them, a dark tongue darting out to scent the air.

Regulus illuminated his wand and bowed down to get a better look. Up close, he discovered that the scales weren’t black but a very dark green with lighter stripes on the top and a light cream colour on the bottom.

A king cobra, then.

Regulus picked her up. He chuckled, letting her warm, scaled body slide through his hands. The others looked over his shoulder. 

A flash lit up the clearing, and Regulus swore he’d seen something scatter away into the undergrowth.

“Let’s go,” he turned to the others, “Don’t fancy freezing to death out here.”