Chapter 33 Second year Stranger Danger Friday 9th of November
1973 Regulars never got an answer by the book.
Siri has never mentioned it, not even in passing, and regulars
never asked. Maybe it was still lying
somewhere in Griffin, the tower unopened and forgotten.
Maybe Sirius had tossed at the side the moment he saw it.
Regulus didn't want to know. It was easier to avoid Sirius
altogether, to pretend he didn't exist and to retreat to the safe
predictability of Slytherin life.
And for the most part, it worked.
Regulus successfully steered clear of Sirius in the halls, on
the Quilled Pitch, and even in the Great Hall.
The only place he couldn't escape him, ironically, was the
classroom. Slackorn, for all his charm and
wit, seemed incapable of resisting the temptation to
compare the Black brothers so much alike, he would say with
the chuckle, his round face gleaming with satisfaction at
his own observation. But it wasn't true, at least not
in Regulus's eyes. Sirius had a way of commanding
attention with his sharp jawline, tousled hair, and that
casual self. A short grin.
Regulus, in contrast, not younger, and not only because of
his age, but softer and far more reserved.
Yet Sloughhorn couldn't or wouldn't see the difference, and
every time he got their names wrong, it was like a punch to
the gut. Regulars wasn't the only one
irritated by this, though. The second year Gryffindors in
his Potions class were quick to remind everyone that he wasn't
serious, sneering and muttering under the breath every time
Sloughhorn's mistake happened. Oh excuse me, dear boy.
Slogans have the jovial laugh, having called Regulars serious
for the second time in that lecture.
You look so much like Sluggy. Must be getting real old if he
keeps mixing you up. Grumbled Peers.
Regulars, Potions partner. The boy was leaning back in his
chair, arms crossed, clearly uninterested in contributing to
the actual work at the share table.
Regulars rolled his eyes, suppressing the urge to snap.
Something we can agree on. He muttered instead, keeping his
hands busy chopping the next ingredient.
Honestly. Pierce continued with this mug.
Sirius deserves better than getting mixed up with you.
Regulus clenched his jaw but didn't look up.
He wasn't about to ruin his carefully maintained reputation
over someone like Pierce. His blades lies through the
dragon liver with precision as he tried to redirect his
attention to the brewing potion. Christopher, the third member of
the group was unusually quiet, his head practically inside the
quadrant as he stirred the mixture.
Regulus noticed his movements were wrong, too fast, too
uneven. Christopher, you're stirring too
fast. Regulus had sharply.
The boy fledged as if Regulus had shouted.
Sorry. He squeaked, halting and
stirring altogether. Regulus sighed, the frustration
bubbling up despite himself. It's fine, just do it slower.
He said, softening his tone. Yes, sorry.
Christopher mumbled again, his voice barely audible.
You don't have to keep apologizing.
Regulus replied, but the words came out harsher than he
intended. Before Christopher could
respond, Piers leaned forward, his voice cutting through the
tense atmosphere. Oy, stop picking on him, Black.
Regulus turned, his patience finally snapping.
Are you stupid? I didn't.
What did you call me? Pierce shot up from his chair,
chest puffed out in mocker outrage.
Wriggler stared at him, disbelief edged across his face.
I called you stupid because you're acting like it.
The commotion had drawn the attention of the nearby tables,
heads turning to watch the brewing conflict.
Christopher shrank back, his hands gripping the edge of the
cauldron like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to
the earth. Say that again?
Pierce demanded, stepping closer, his face red with anger.
Regulars rolled his eyes, but there was a storm brewing inside
him. You're stupid, Pierce, you've
done nothing but sit there like a useless number for two years.
The rest of us do all the work. Pierce's face twisted in fury
and his voice rose. At least I'm not some sniveling
little git trying to act like he's better than everyone else
because of his precious family name.
Regulus felt the sting of the words, but he didn't fledge.
Funny coming from someone whose greatest achievement is being a
second rate bully. The room had gone silent now,
the tension thick in the air. Slug Horn, who had been bustling
about the room, finally noticed a brewing argument and hurried
over. Gentlemen, what's all this
rocket about? He asked, his jovial tone
replaced with a mild concern. Pierce gestured wildly.
Regulars, he's got a bloody attitude problem, that's what.
Sloughcon frowned and turned to Regulars, who stood stiff and
unyielding. Mr. Black, is this true?
Regulars opened his mouth to protest, but Pierce cut him off.
He's been picking on Christopher the whole time, Sir.
It's not fair to the poor kid. Chris's eyes widened and panic,
but he said nothing, looking down at the quadrant as if
willing himself to disappear. That's not regulars began, but
Slack Horn raised a hand to stop him.
Enough. The professor said firmly.
Mr. Black, please focus your attention on the right things.
You're a bright young man now, no need to fuss.
Everyone back to your cauldrons. Pierce's jaw dropped in pure
anger, sneering over at Regulus. He could feel exactly what
Pierce was going to throw at him.
Your lucky slack 1 is a sucker for you, Your disgusting family.
Jealous. Pierce didn't answer, and he
shot one last mean glare and then sat down in his chair
again, going back to observing Regulus every move.
The rest of the class was done in silence, except the few times
Regulars didn't have any choice but to tell Christopher what to
do, where SC only nodded in response.
Despite that, they managed to make an excellent potion
according to Slacko. I wasn't aware that Slacko loved
you that much, but. He teased as the two of them
left the classroom alongside the other second years.
I didn't even do anything. Regulars grunted.
Yeah, I know, Pierce just hates you.
Chris is completely terrified of you.
What? Regulus stopped and turned to
look at Barty. Christopher scared of me,
obviously, but why? Hell of I know you're the great
Regulus Black. Barty teased, his hands
gesturing of Regulus like a king.
Everyone is beneath you, my Lord.
Shut up. Regulus said, embarrassed,
pulling down Barty's arms. He knew it was a joke, but it
still felt like a knot in his stomach knowing Christopher was
scared of him. It was stupid, ridiculous even.
He had never been anything but nice to him.
I'm pretty sure he's pure blood as well.
Makes it even funnier. But he smiled, right?
Funny. Sunday, 11th of November 1973.
Regulus was stuck with Christopher on his mind for the
next few days. That annoying little kid who for
some inexplicable reason, seemed scared of him.
It didn't make any sense. How could you be afraid of
someone who had done nothing wrong?
No, actually, Reckless had been kind to him.
That thought gnawed at him, frustration bubbling under the
surface. But it didn't end with
Christopher. Once regulars started paying
attention, he began to notice other students too.
How some would cling to the sides of the corridors when he
passed, their eyes flickering away.
Others would mutter to each other as they spotted him in the
Great Hall, sneaking glances and whispering as though he was some
sort of threat. It was a pattern, one Regulus
should have expected. Still, it left his sour taste in
his mouth when he brought it up to Barty.
Have a breakfast one morning. Barty had just laughed,
shrugging enough like it was nothing better than someone
messing with us. Barty said, his tone light and
dismissive as he swirled his spoon through his porridge.
Let them be scared. Keeps things quiet.
And sure, Barty wasn't wrong. There had always been all the
students, mostly Gryffinders. He gave them sneering remarks in
the halls. Black blood, they call it.
Dripping sarcasm, as though the name itself was a disease.
He reminded Regulus of something his mother used to say when he
was younger, back when her lessons about the world were
more frequent and far harsher. Better to be feared than loved,
Regulus. Love is fickle.
Fear and yours. Only now Regulus wasn't sure he
agreed. This wasn't fear, this was
closer to hatred. And maybe that's what his mother
meant. If you couldn't be loved, being
feared was safer. But it still sat wrong in his
stomach and the only thing that managed to quiet his mind was
flying. The Quidditch pitch was emptied
that Sunday afternoon, abandoned because of the bone chilling
cold and the warm feast happening in the Great Hall.
Regulus had told Barty that Bull Stroud asked him to clean out
the changing rooms. An excuse.
It was flimsy at best, but Barty hadn't pressed.
The truth was, Regulus didn't want to deal with anyone.
Not the whispering students, not the sidelong glances, not the
sense that he was a villain in the story he didn't remember
writing. The winds dung his face as he
soared high into the grey sky, his gloved hands gripping his
broom tightly. He pushed himself to fly faster,
higher, until his thoughts dissolved into the rush of air.
His heart pounded, his muscles ached, and his fingers started
to go numb from the cold, but he didn't stop.
It was nearly an hour later when he finally landed, his boots
crunching against the frosted grass as he dismounted.
His breath puffed out in white clouds and he flexed his hands,
trying to coax warmth back into them.
He had just finished packing up his broom when movement at the
edge of the forest caught his eye.
Regulus froze, his gaze sharpening.
The figure was emerging from the Forbidden Forest, long blonde
hair swaying as she walked. He blinked, sure his eyes were
playing tricks on him. But no.
The girl kept moving closer, completely unbothered by the
fact that she had just broken one of the most well known rules
at Hogwarts. He watched her, forgetting that
she was standing in plain sight as she approached, her footsteps
soft against the frozen ground. Regulars realised too late that
he couldn't slip away unnoticed. Hello there.
She said, her voice light and airy.
Regulars blinked, taken aback by her calm demeanour.
Umm, hi. Now that she was closer, he
recognised her. She was a second year Ravenclaw,
a quiet girl with long blonde hair that reminded him a little
of Necisses, though hers was Wilder, a golden tangle that
framed her pale face. He'd seen her in charms, always
sitting off to the side, seemingly in her own world.
She gave him a faint smile and walked right past him, as though
there was nothing unusual about their meeting.
Regulus turned on his heel. You and the Forbidden Forest.
I was. She replied simply, turning to
glare at him. Her tone was so calm it was
almost unnerving. It's forbidden.
Regulus said coldly, his brow furring.
Supposedly her answer made his irritation flare.
No, it is. How come?
She asked, her voice still soft, her head tilting slowly to the
side. There is no malice or talent in
her tone, just curiosity. Regulus opened his mouth to
respond, only to falter. I, I don't know, it's dangerous,
I guess. She smiled faintly, as if
amused. I think danger is just things we
don't know enough about yet. The words struck him in a way he
hadn't expected. Regulus looked down and his
gloved hands tightening around the strap of his broom.
What was he supposed to say to that?
Maybe. He muttered, feeling
uncharacteristically unsure of himself.
What's your name? She asked suddenly, breaking the
brief silence. He hesitated, his suspicion
flaring back up. Regulus, Pandora.
She replied, her tone warm and unbothered.
She didn't flinch at his name, didn't react at all, and somehow
that threw him off balance. They stood quietly for a while,
an awed quiet settling over them as the wind whistled through the
empty pitch. Pandora turned to gaze to the
forest behind her, as though that she could still see
something beyond the trees. What were you doing in there?
Regulus finally asked, trying to gain some control over the
conversation. Looking.
She said. Looking for what?
Nothing in particular. She smiled again, this time the
slight mischievous glint in her eye.
Sometimes it's nice to look just for the sake of looking.
Regulus started stared at her, bewildered.
That's ridiculous. Is it?
Pandora asked softly. You were flying just now?
Were you flying for something, or were you just flying because
you wanted to? Reckless blinked, caught off
guard. That's not the same thing.
It's not so different, she said of the shrug.
You like flying? I like exploring, Reckless
Scald, though there wasn't much bite to it.
You'll get yourself in trouble, maybe, Pandora said with a light
laugh, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
But I think a little trouble can be worth it sometimes, don't
you? No, He replied automatically,
but the words felt hollow. Pandora watched him for a moment
longer, her expression unreadable.
You seem nice, Regulus. She said finally.
A little sad, maybe, but nice. Regulus stiffened.
I'm not. I'll see you in Charms.
She said before he could finish turning on her heel and walking
back toward the castle, her steps light and unhurried.
Regula's what should go, confusion and irritation
battling for dominance in his mind.
Sad, nice. He wasn't sure what to make of
her, or why he even cared, but Pandora's word stayed with him,
lingering like the frost in the air as he gathered his things
and headed back inside.