Chapter 28 Second Year Tryouts Saturday 15th of September 1973
The Legilimency research had been postponed for two days now,
as regulars could never seem to find enough time alone to
actually begin reading the book. But he never left his side,
always eager to tag along no matter how dull the matter
seemed. Finally though, that Saturday,
Barty had managed to land himself in detention, giving
regulars the rare solitude he craved.
Detentions had become a recurring matter for Barty,
always managing to ask the wrong questions or pushing the
teacher's limits. Not that he did it on purpose,
he was simply too curious and intelligent for his own good.
With most of the older students of Off to Hoxmead, the castle
was as quite an empty as one could hope for.
Still, regulars wouldn't take any chances, making his way up
to the Astronomy tower, where the air was crisp but the
silence was guaranteed. The tower held a special place
for him. It was there, in that remote
height that he had first pierced together.
Lupin's secret. Now it served at now it served
as his refuge. A place to think undisturbed,
and one of the few places in Hogwarts that fell truly his
own. Wrapping his cloak tightly
around him, he sat down on the cold stone floor, pulling the
book from his bag. He kept his expectations low.
Hogwarts Library wasn't known for its comprehensive selection
of books and subjects the school might deem too powerful or too
dangerous. Yet he combed through the pages
meticulously, and finally the familiar word appeared in
elegant ink on the worn page. Legitimacy.
The origins of legitimacy are largely unknown, though it is
believed to date back several centuries.
Records suggest Salazar Slytherin himself, who lived in
the 10th century, was a master of this art.
Alongside the other Hogwarts founders.
He is credited with enchanting the Sorting Hat to possess the
form of this skill. In its most advanced form,
legitimacy requires neither one nor incantation, but most, but
most practitioners depend on both.
When performed without occulmacy defences, it grants the
legitimans access to their targets, thoughts, memories, and
emotions. Direct eye contact enhances its
efficient effectiveness, and only a select few have ever
truly mastered the craft. And that was it.
No instructions, no real guidance on how one could begin
learning legitimacy, or perhaps more importantly, occulmacy.
The book describes it as a skill requiring innate talent and
practice, neither of which were easily acquired.
If Snape was indeed attempting to learn legitimacy, that could
mean he would have access to anyone's mind, including
Regulus. The dark thought settled in his
chest. He couldn't allow someone like
Snape to have access to the contents of his mind.
There are too many thoughts he needed to protect, one of which
is Lupin's secret. A secret he wouldn't allow Snape
to uncover and expose. So really, he didn't have any
choice. Creature.
He called quietly, his voice echoing in the empty tower.
He'd never called his family herself this far from home, but
if ever there was a time to make an exception, this was it.
He held his breath, almost doubting Creature would appear,
but after a soft pop, there he was, his wide eyes full of
concern. Master Regulus, is everything
OK? Creature asked, his voice barely
above a whisper. Yes.
Regulus replied quickly, softening his tone.
I just need your help with something.
Creature eyed him rarely. Rarely.
It was no secret the Alf took his orders very seriously, but
for regulars he was more than just a servant, he was a friend,
one of the few he could trust unconditionally.
Anything from us, Sir Regulus. Creature murmured, though he
looked uncertain. I need you to go to my father's
study, there should be a book there.
Regulus said, choosing his words carefully.
He knew Creature would be taking a risk, and he didn't want to
make it more difficult than necessary.
Something that might mention legitimacy and occulancy, he
added. At the mention of these words,
Creature wrinkled his nose in disapproval.
Please, Masa, Regulus should not try to learn such an art.
Creature, I need the book. Regulus tone grew sharp, and he
knew Creature noticed. He rarely spoke to him like
this, without the familiar politeness that had always
defined their interactions, but he was desperate and he couldn't
afford to let Snape or anyone else have an advantage over him.
For a moment creatures shoulders sacked his face, his face a mix
of disappointment and resolve. Yes Master, I shall go fetch the
book for you. He replied, his voice smaller
than had been moments before. Then was another soft pup.
He was gone. Regulus stood in the chilled
silence of the Astronomy Tower, watching the spot where Creature
had been a moment before. The cold autumn breeze slipped
through the open arches, brushing his cheeks as he tried
to shake the feeling of Guild and gnawing at him.
Creature had never looked at him with such weariness, and the
pang of regret twisted in his chest, but this was necessary.
He needed the knowledge, and he couldn't afford to delay any
longer if he turned his attention to the book in front
of him, trying to make sense of what little information he had
found about legitimacy. The lack of guidance was
frustrating, and the more he read, the clearer it became that
learning legitimacy without a mentor, or at least a more
detailed text, was almost impossible.
The only way to truly protect his mind from Snape, from
anyone, was to learn occupancy. He closed his eyes, trying to
picture the process. How could one protect their mind
from intrusion? He imagined shutting his
thoughts away behind the door, locking each one securely, but
it felt flimsy, more like a Daydream than anything real.
There is no guidance, no structure, just the quiet
aspiration to hide what he knew. The soft pop creature reappeared
at his side, a thick, weathered book clutched in his gnarled
hands. Master Regulus, the book you
asked for. Creature's voice was low, the
worry unmistakable. But please, Sir, Master should
not attempt these arts alone. Regulus took the book from him,
its cover worn and embossed with the faded, ominous emblem of
serpents twined around each other.
He didn't meet Creature's gaze as he muttered.
Thank you, Creature, I'll be fine.
But Creature didn't move. Master Regulus, Creature begs.
These ads are not for young masters to meddle with.
They twist the mind to make it vulnerable.
Vulnerable. Regulus almost laughed at the
irony. Creature, if I don't learn this,
my mind is already vulnerable. There are people here who'd see
into my thoughts if they could, and I can't let that happen.
Creature nodded slowly, but his eyes held a deep sadness.
Very well, Master Regulus. Creeta only asks that master.
Be careful. I will.
Regulus promised gently at this time.
He squeezed Creeta's shoulder briefly before the elf
disappeared with another pop, leaving Regulus alone with the
book. He opened it carefully, turning
to the index and scanning for occlamacy.
The entry led him to a passage towards the middle where he
found where he found an introduction to the art of
blocking one's mind. The description was technical,
outlining the basics the skill documents must learn to empty
their thoughts, acquire their emotions, and fortify their mind
against intrusion. It mentioned meditation
exercises, but it was vague, almost as if it assumed the
reader already had some experience.
Experience which, quite frankly, 12 year old regulars did not
have. Saturday 22nd of September 1973.
Wrigglers woke up that morning feeling like he'd swallowed a
bag of wriggling flubberworms. His nerves had him practically
vibrating, every bit of his usual composure blown to pieces
by the storm that had apparently taken up residence in his
stomach overnight. Today was Quitted Trials Day,
the day he'd been anticipating and jutting for weeks.
He dreamed of playing for Slytherin for as long as he
could remember. It was the kind of ambition he'd
hardly dare voice, even to himself, but he'd never wanted
something like this before. Well, maybe one other thing.
It was barely 6:00 AM when he yanked A groggy Barty from his
bed and dragged him down to the Great Hall, determined to fuel
up. Reg, it's too bloody early for
this. Barty mumbled around the yawn,
giving him a bleary eyed look. Honestly, I can't even see you
properly, why couldn't you wait another hour?
Because you'll think me later. Regulus replied with a smug,
pouring himself a cup of coffee despite the pang of guilt that
followed. His parents had always
disapproved of coffee, so Cross his mother would say best to
avoid it. But today was special, and he
needed all the energy he could muster.
Barty stifled another yawn and shoved a few scrambled eggs onto
his plate. Don't worry, mate, you already
know you'll make the team. Regulus took a slow sip,
savouring the bitterness. Maybe, He muttered.
But I want to earn my sport party, not get it handed to me
just because of Sissy. Rolling his eyes, Barty gave me
a look of pity mingled with sleep deprivation.
Fine, fine, earn it then. Just know that if you don't make
it, I'm going back to bed immediately.
Regulus managed to laugh, a brief moment of ease before the
nerves crawled up his spine. The two ate in relative silence,
broken only by the occasional murmur of Barty's muttered
complaints. After breakfast, they made their
way up to the pitch. With each step, Regulus's heart
pounded a little harder. 22 people were trying out today for
seven spots. He quickly scanned the pitch,
catching glimpses of familiar faces from last year's team, a
few second years trying to hide their jitters, and even a
handful of upperclassmen, including Evan Rosier, who was
pacing, rubbing his hands together like they might betray
him. Wrigley, as you made it.
A voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts.
Edmund Hampton, a towering 6th Gabita he'd spoken to earlier
that term, was grinning at him. The boy already had his queer
robes on, radiating confidence. Oh, hi.
Regulus replied, trying to muster a convincing smile as he
shoved his hands into his pockets to hide the faint
tremor. Edmund eyed him, clearly amused.
Nervous, are you? Regulus scoffed, though his
cheeks tidded pink. Not terribly well.
Don't be. Edmund said to clapping him on
the shoulder, nearly knocking him off balance.
It's just quit it mate, just quit it.
Regulars muttered under his breath.
Right. He couldn't help but smile
despite himself. What position are you after?
Edmund asked, still smiling in the laid back way of his seeker.
Regulars answered quietly, But with Sissy already there, I
might have to rethink. Smart move.
Edmund chuckled. Could always join me as Beater
could use a hand up there. Before Regulars could reply,
Nurses. His clear commanding voice rang
out. All right, listen up.
Trials are about to begin, so let's get things started.
But first a quick announcement. I won't be your captain this
year. Bull Stride will be taking over
the news. Had regulars like a rogue
bludger, Assisa wouldn't be picking the team.
She had reassured him so many times he'd taken it as a given
that she'd be there quietly, keeping an eye out for him.
He opened his mouth to protest, but Bulstroe didn't give anyone
a chance. With a sharp whistle, he barked
out the first set of instructions, sending everyone
up into the air. As soon as regulars took off,
the weight in his stomach lifted, the sky stretched out
around him, and he forgot everything except the rush of
air against his face. He dove, swerved, and climbed
with confidence, feeling at home with a broom beneath him.
Each drill blurred to the next, his concentration unbreakable.
After a gruelling series of exercises, Bulstrode finally
called everyone down, announcing the results on the spot.
Seeker Nessissa Black. No surprises there.
Beaters, Rubber Cell, Lestrange and Edmund Hampton.
Edmund's grin stretched ear to ear, looking like he'd just been
handed a year's supply of butterbeer Chases Me.
Sophia Caulfield and Regulus Black.
Regulus's heart sword. He did it.
He actually did it. Edmund gave him a hearty slap on
the back, whispering Torture, didn't I?
And finally, keeper Evan Rosier. Reg does raise an eyebrow.
Not ideal. Evan Rosier was hearty, his
first choice as a team mate, but he supposed he couldn't be picky
now. Ball Strode went over the
training schedule, droning on about drills, strategies, and
how absolutely no one was to be late for Monday practices.
But most of the team wasn't listening, too caught up in the
excitement of making it. Regulus bit back a smile,
letting himself enjoy the moment of joy for once.
After Bulstrode's curt dismissal, Regulus and the
others headed for the changing rooms.
Edmund was immediately pulled into a conversation with
Rubberstan about strategies and ambitions.
The two older boys locked in a deep discussion as they walked
ahead. Although from what it sounded
like, it was mostly Rubberstan who spoke, talking about he
would become captain next year on Spoelstra had graduated.
Edmund did not look convinced. Regulars watched them go,
feeling a bit relieved. At least Rubber Stun hadn't
aimed any backhanded remarks his way yet.
When they reached the changing rooms, Regulars quickly moved to
the back, hoping to avoid anyone seeing the scars on his legs,
faint telltale marks of spells he'd rather not explain.
He had already planned it out during this first year, before
he even made the team the best ways to hide his cars.
He had already, He had, after all, managed to hide them from
Bartir for a year, and he was planning on keeping them hidden
from his new team as well. But as he was about to leave, he
noticed ever lingering, sitting on the bench and half heartedly
polishing his broom. He hadn't begun changing.
Instead, he was sitting in full uniform, looking like he had all
the time in the world. Regulus reached for the door,
but an impulse made him stop. They were going to be team
mates, after all, and Regulus knew that he wouldn't manage a
full year of Evan's mean remarks, so he cleared his
throat and awkwardly spoke. Uh, Congrats, Rosie.
Evan looked up, meeting Regulus's eyes with a stare that
was oddly hollow. He was quiet for a moment, like
he was deciding on what to say, until he finally spoke.
Yeah, you 2 black. He muttered, sounding strangely
subdued. Regulus shifted awkwardly, half
expecting Evan to sneer or make some scathing comment, but the
boy just sat there staring at the floor as of lost and
thought. Right.
Regulus replied, glancing toward the door.
So you had practice then?