Chapter 26 Second Year Routine Friday 7th September 1973 A week
into the new school year, Reckless Black had already made
sure to establish himself as one of the top students in his year.
Once again, the hours spent reading over the summer had paid
off, allowing him to keep up with a quicker pace of second
year coursework. Charms, Potions, Transsegration.
Each subject was moving at a much faster clip compared to the
previous year, but regularly AS welcomed the challenge.
He had already received homework assignments in five subjects due
by the following week. While some students looked
overwhelmed, poor Astrid nearly fainted upon seeing how many
chapters needed to be read for History of Magic.
Regulus took it in stride. Homework was a hassle, but there
was something satisfying about proving himself, about showing
everyone he was worthy of the black name.
He made a point to stand out, ensuring that each professor
noticed him turning in his assignments early or asking
questions that delved beyond the textbook.
It worked. Most of the teachers seemed to
take a liking to Regulus. He was everything they wanted in
a model student, diligent, respectful, and ambitious.
In contrast, Barty's approach to academics was more chaotic,
often challenging the teachers explanations, offering
alternative methods for spells, and generally pushing the
boundaries of what was considered appropriate in the
classroom. His boldness had already landed
him in detention after just a week.
Mcgonigal had deemed one of his suggestions for improving A
Transfiguration spell a bit too audacious.
Hogwarts itself is, just as regulars had remembered,
familiar corridors, enchanted suites of suits of armour and
common rooms that offered refuge from the outside world.
The constancy of the door was a welcome change from the
tumultuous summer, filled with tense conversations and unspoken
expectations at home. In some ways, the castle felt
like a sanctuary, a place where it could escape the weight of
the Black family name, even if only temporarily.
Despite being back at the same school, the distance between
Regulars and his brother Sirius seemed greater than ever.
The only time he saw Sirius was in the Great Hall during meals,
but even then it felt like they were in separate worlds.
Regulars would often catch himself staring across the room
at the Gryffindor table, hoping that one day Sirius's gaze would
meet his. But day after day, he was left
disappointed. Sirius didn't even glance in his
direction, as if deliberately avoiding him.
There were moments when regulars considered telling Barty about
the strained exchange he had had with his parents just before
returning to school, the unspoken demands placed upon
him, the warnings about Sirius. But the right moment never
seemed to come. And besides, Barty had his own
problems to deal with, suggests his ever growing list of
detentions. With party serving detention,
Regulus found himself with a rare free evening.
After finishing his Charms homework, he decided to head out
to the Quidditch pitch. The teams hadn't started
practices yet, so the field was likely to be empty.
Flying always helped clear his mind, and he had finally decided
upon trying out for the team. Necesa had already told him that
he was good, so it would be a waste if he didn't at least try,
right? Sure, maybe he hadn't told his
parents about his plans yet, but he wasn't even on the team yet,
so there really wasn't anything to say.
Grabbing his broom, Regulars pulled on his warm practice
shirt. It was one of the few casual
pieces of clothing he owned. Most of his wardrobe consisted
of tailored robes and formal wear.
As he made his way across the grounds, the sun was setting,
casting the last of its golden light over the grass.
The temperature was dropping, a hint of autumn chill in the air.
When he arrived at the pitch, he was surprised to find it already
occupied. A boy in a Slytherin sweater had
just landed near the centre, his broomstick resting casually over
his shoulder. Regulus was about to turn back,
preferring to avoid conversation, but the boy
noticed him first. Boy, I'm nearly finished if
you're the pitch to yourself. The boy called out, his accent
thick and unmistakably Scottish. He had a broad, athletic build
and seemed entirely at ease. Unlike most other students, he
would have been intimidated by an unexpected encounter.
Regulars managed a polite half smile as he walked closer.
Now that he could see the boy's face, he recognised him from
around the common room. He was one of Robustan's
friends, a fourth year if Regulars were remembered
correctly. Cheers.
Regulus replied, hoping to keep the exchange brief, but the boy
didn't seem in a hurry to leave. You're Regulus, right?
He asked, extending A gloved hand.
He was dressed in Slytherin curded gear, which most likely
meant that he was on the team the previous year.
And you're? Regulus chilled off, realising
that he didn't actually know the boy's name.
It was a rare moment of uncertainty, but the boy didn't
seem bothered. Edmund.
He said with an easy grin. No worries, if you didn't know,
there's too many of us to keep track of.
Edmund's relaxed demeanour and thick Scottish accents had him
apart from the other Slytherins, who were often more stiff and
spoke with a posh English accent.
You're friends with Robustan, right?
Regulars asked, feeling slightly embarrassed.
It seemed like people knew who he was more after than he knew
them. If you say so.
Edmund replied with a shrug, leaving it open to
interpretation. So, will you be trying out for
the team? I think so, or I mean, yes.
Regulars answered, feeling a bit more resolute as the words left
his mouth. Good, the old team was getting
boring. Edmund said with a teasing
smile. He swung his broom over his
shoulder, preparing to leave. I'd say good luck, but you'll
need more than that where the new captain's going to be extra
harsh this year. Who's the captain?
Regulars asked, and not forming in his stomach as he realized he
hadn't bothered to find out. Edmund was already walking away,
but he called back over his shoulder.
Your cousin mate, Necesa. Regulars felt a jolt of shock.
When you learned that Necesa was an acquitted captain.
It made sense, of course. She was one of the best players
in the school, not just Slytherin.
Still, the news came as a surprise.
Hack, would he not have known? Then again, after the failed
engagement, his parents expressly forbidden him from
visiting his cousins, so there hadn't really been a chance to
talk to his sister about it. With that in mind, Wriggler
studied his broom and kicked off from the damp grass, letting the
rush of cold air against his face drown out any lingering
doubts. Later that evening, Barty
stumbled back into the dormitory, looking utterly
exhausted. His usually mischievous
expression had given away to dark circles under his eyes, and
his ropes were crumpled as if he had worn them for days.
He dropped onto his bed with a heavy thud, limbs sprawled out
in defeat as though he could barely support his own weight.
Mcgonagall's a nightmare, honestly.
He muttered, his voice muffled as he tugged off his sweater
with sluggish movements. Made me clean out the entire
classroom by myself without magic.
His tone was thick with indignation and a hint of
embarrassment, like he still couldn't believe he'd been
forced to do manual labour. But the conversation didn't last
much longer. Within minutes he was sound
asleep, still sprawled on top of his banquets, snoring softly.
The exhaustion had hit him hard. Regulars lay awake though,
turning restlessly from one side to the other as the hours jacked
on. His mind refused to quiet,
thoughts racing from one thing to the next.
Quidditch practice neces his new role as captain, serious as
persistent silence. Over the summer, his brother's
absence had carved A huddle space in his chest that he
hadn't quite managed to fill. Every time he closed his eyes,
he imagined Sirius's voice taunting him, or the familiar
look of disappointment in his mother's eyes whenever she spoke
about her estranged eldest son. He peeked out from behind the
heavy velvet curtains around his bed now and then, but Barty was
still sound asleep each time. The occasional Creek of the
castles settling or the murmur of the shifting portrait in the
corridor outside did nothing to soothe him.
The only upside to his sleeplessness was that he knew
from experience that Astrid was probably awake too.
She often found herself in the common room at odd hours, as if
insomnia had become a part of her routine, just like it had
for him. Finally, after what felt like an
eternity, regulars gave up on trying to fall asleep.
He quietly threw on a sweater, grabbed his wand from the
bedside table, and Tip showed past Barty and the other boys.
His footsteps echoed faintly off the stone as he slipped out the
dormitory and into the dimly lit corridor.
The familiar chill of the Slytherin dungeon settled into
his bones as he descended the stairs, reminding him that it
was nearly October and the warmth of summer was long gone.
As he reached the common room, the faint glow of the fire cast
dancing shadows across the walls, making the room appear
larger and emptier than usual. Sure enough, Astrid was there,
sitting on the carriage closest to the fireplace.
Her silhouette was outlined by the flickering flames, her hair
catching the light in a way that made it seem almost golden.
She seemed lost, her thought, her gaze fixed on the glowing
embers and regulars, could see her fingers absentee, tracing
pattins on the armrest as if her mind was far away.
He made his footsteps slight louder as he approached, hoping
to announce his presence without startling her.
Astrich. He greeted softly.
Oh, hi regulars. She said, turning towards him
with a warm smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
Her uniform was still perfectly in place despite the late hour,
and it struck regulars as odd that she hadn't changed into
something more comfortable. She looked almost as if she had
been waiting, that for what or whom he didn't know.
He returned her smile and settled onto the opposite couch,
tucking his feet under a blanket.
The air was brisk, and despite the fire, the dungeons always
seemed to retain in perpetual chill.
How have you been? He asked, his voice low as
though he didn't want to disturb the quiet atmosphere.
It's good to be back. He added after a moment's
hesitation, though as he spoke, memories of the summer crapped
back in, of 10s. Family meetings, cold silent
dinners, and his mother's constant assistance that he had
to be the perfect son. There was so much she could say,
but little he actually wanted Astra to know.
I agree, it's nice to see everyone again.
Astrid said, her smile fading slightly as she glanced back
toward the fire. The summer felt like it lasted
forever. Yeah.
Wrigglers murmured. It did.
He watched her for a moment, noticing the faint shadows under
her eyes, the slight slump of her shoulders that suggested she
was just as tired as he was. I got your letter this summer.
Spain looked nice. He said, changing the topic,
hoping to dispel the sombre mood.
Astrid's expression softened and she nodded.
It was. The beaches were beautiful, and
the weather was just perfect. It was nice to get away for a
bit, I bet. Regolus said, though his
thoughts were 1000 miles away, focused under a very different
kind of summer. His words hung in the air, both
of them seeming unsure of where to take the conversation next.
Just as Auster had opened her mouth to speak again, the sound
of approaching footsteps interrupted them, voices
drifting closer to the common room entrance.
It wasn't the hush tones of students sneaking back from a
late night escape heart escapade.
It was louder, more irritated. No emulsify you idiot, listen to
me. The harsh, familiar voice of
Sarah Snape cut through the quiet, sharp with frustration.
Regulus froze. If Snape found him sitting there
with Astrid, he would never hear the end of it.
Snape had a knack for making every situation worse, and
Regulus knew he would twist this into something it wasn't,
perhaps even make Astra think less of him in the process.
Without a second thought, he leaned forward, grasped Astra's
arm, and pulled her behind a thick stone pillar near the
fireplace. It was a tight squeeze, but both
of them were small enough to fit without much trouble.
He could feel Astra's startled gaze on him, her expression half
bewildered and half annoyed. I know he's hiding something, I
just need to figure out what. Snape's voice was full of venom,
and regulars could hear the echo of his footsteps growing closer.
Honesty, Snape let it go. Who cares about some mud blood?
Most of us. A different tone carried a hint
of exasperation. No, I'm close, Snape insisted.
I just need to read a few more books on Legilimacy and Lupin
won't be able to hide anything from me.
Regulus felt his stomach twist with anxiety.
Legitimacy. What did Snape want with that,
especially concerning Lupin? The entire situation reached of
danger, and Regulus wasn't about to let Snape hurt one of his
brother's friends, but only because he helped Nazisa.
Of course, not without doing something to intervene, but for
now he stayed hidden, holding his breath.
A Snape in multiple footsteps echoed away down the corridor,
their voices fading into a faint murmur.
He let go of Astrid's arm, suddenly realising that his grip
had been too tight. His fingers had left faint
impressions on his skin, and she rubbed her arm with a frown.
What was that about? She asked, her voice edged with
irritation, an unfamiliar tone from someone who was usually so
calm and gentle. I'm sorry, I just.
Regulars began, but his mind was racing too quickly to form a
coherent explanation. He knew Snape had a gwudge
against Lupin, but this sounded more serious than the usual
petty rivalries Snape was talking about.
I mean, I just didn't want to risk him seeing us.
He lied, the half truth falling from his lips with more ease
than he expected. Really asked?
His eyebrows rose in disbelief. That's it?
She let out her scoff, her irritation still palpable.
Good night, Regulus. Her words were clipped and
colder than the dungeon air, and before she before he could
respond, she turned sharply on her heel and strode off towards
the girl's dormitory. He watched her go, a mixture of
confusion and guilt settling over him.
He wasn't sure why he was so upset, why she was so upset, and
in the entire time he had known her, she had never come close to
raising her voice. For a moment he wondered if he
had misjudged the situation, if perhaps there was more to
Astrid's late night wanderings than she let on.
But the thought quickly vanished as his own worries came rushing
back. Worries about Snape, and about
the secrets it seemed to be piling up around him.
Regulus stood by the fire for a long time after Astrid left,
questions swirling in his mind and a creeping sense of dread
settling over him. Whatever Snape was planning, it
was far too dangerous to ignore. And whatever was going on with
Astrid, it seemed he was the last person she wanted to
confide in.