Code Black

The day started with an explosion of sound—alarms blaring, voices overlapping, the sharp scent of antiseptic mixing with something metallic in the air.

Regulus barely had time to register the chaos before a chart was shoved into his hands.

“Black, trauma bay three,” Marlene barked, already moving past him. “They’re bringing in a John Doe—found collapsed in the street. Collapsed lung, possible cardiac involvement. Go.”

Regulus didn’t need to be told twice. He was already moving, weaving through the crowded ward. He could hear the rush of activity behind him—other trainees scrambling to their assignments, the ER a living, breathing thing of its own.

By the time he pushed into trauma three, James was already there, gloves on, wand at the ready, assessing the patient with sharp focus.

“You’re late,” James remarked, glancing at him.

Regulus ignored him, stepping to the opposite side of the stretcher. “Vitals?”

“BP’s dropping,” James said, eyes flickering to the monitoring spell hovering above the patient’s chest. “Heart rate’s erratic. He’s not responding to basic stabilization.”

Regulus flicked his wand over the man’s sternum, frowning. “There’s fluid in his lungs.”

James met his gaze. “We need to drain it before it kills him.”

Before either of them could make the call, the doors banged open again.

“Fantastic,” Sirius drawled as he entered, hands shoved in his coat pockets. “Nothing like a proper mystery patient to make my day.”

Remus followed behind him, his usual easy expression tinged with something sharper. “Not much of a mystery,” he murmured, eyeing the man on the table. “Look at his hands.”

Regulus frowned but followed his gaze. The patient’s fingertips were stained a deep, unnatural black. The telltale mark of dark magic exposure.

Sirius muttered a curse. “Well. That complicates things.”

James straightened, already adjusting. “Regulus, prep for a thoracic drainage spell. Lupin, help me keep his vitals steady. Sirius—figure out what kind of magic we’re dealing with.”

Sirius huffed but pulled out his wand, eyes scanning the man’s body with sharp calculation.

Regulus exhaled slowly, suppressing the flicker of tension curling in his chest. He focused on the task, forcing his hands steady, ignoring the way James’s presence beside him felt like something solid, something unwavering.

They worked in unison, movements seamless.

But as the spell began drawing fluid from the patient’s lungs, as the dark magic curled ominously beneath his skin, Regulus knew—

This wasn’t going to be a simple case.

The trauma bay was a storm of movement, voices overlapping, magic crackling through the air as the patient convulsed on the stretcher. Regulus barely registered the sound of his own breathing—sharp, controlled—as he worked.

“He’s destabilizing,” James warned, pressing his wand firmly against the patient’s throat. “We’re losing him.”

Regulus flicked his wand, guiding the drainage spell as more dark, viscous fluid siphoned from the man’s lungs. It wasn’t enough. The moment they cleared one issue, another surfaced.

Sirius, stationed at the foot of the bed, swore under his breath. “There’s residual dark magic embedding itself deeper. If we don’t break it now , he won’t make it.”

The doors banged open.

“What the hell is going on?”

Barty Crouch Jr. and Dorcas Meadows swept in, already half into their gloves, eyes scanning the chaos.

“Heard the alarms,” Dorcas said briskly, moving to James’s side. “Didn’t think we were letting people die in here.”

Regulus barely spared her a glance. “Then make yourself useful.”

Barty grinned, stepping up beside Sirius. “What are we dealing with?”

Sirius kept his wand hovering over the patient, eyes narrowed. “Some kind of active curse. I need a resonance cross-check.”

Barty’s grin widened. “You’re in luck. I love a challenge.” He immediately pressed his wand to the patient’s sternum, his magic crackling as he worked.

Remus, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, stepped forward. He wasn’t looking at the patient—he was looking at the floating diagnostic spells, his expression grim.

“This isn’t just residual magic,” Remus murmured. “This is adaptive .”

James’s head snapped toward him. “Meaning?”

“Meaning,” Remus said, lips thinning, “every time we stabilize him, the curse shifts. It’s anticipating us.”

The words sank in like lead.

Sirius’s jaw clenched. “That’s impossible.”

Remus didn’t flinch. “It’s happening.”

Dorcas swore under her breath. “Alright, then what’s the move?”

Regulus exhaled slowly, forcing his hands steady. “We pull and counteract simultaneously .”

James turned to him, something sharp in his gaze. “That’s a risk.”

“I know.”

James held his stare. “You think we can do it?”

Regulus hesitated for half a second.

Trust him.

“…Yes.”

James gave a sharp nod. “On three.”

Remus moved beside Sirius, wand raised, already preparing for whatever came next.

“One.”

Regulus gripped his wand tighter.

“Two.”

The patient seized violently.

“Three.”

Magic surged.

James stabilized. Regulus pulled. Dorcas kept vitals steady. Sirius and Barty worked the curse. And Remus—

Remus did something Regulus couldn’t quite explain.

His magic slid between the shifting curse, weaving through the breaks in their spells, locking into place like a puzzle piece snapping into alignment.

For a moment, everything seemed to stop .

Then the curse broke .

The patient’s body went still. The darkness seeped away. The monitoring spell steadied.

Silence.

Then Barty let out a low whistle. “Well. That was dramatic.”

Dorcas exhaled. “I need a drink.”

Sirius smirked. “You always need a drink.”

James let out a slow breath and nudged Regulus’s shoulder. “Nice work, Black.”

Regulus swallowed thickly, not trusting himself to respond.

Because when James said it—low, quiet, like it meant something —

Regulus felt it settle deep in his chest.

Later that day, the adrenaline had worn off, leaving behind an exhaustion that settled deep in Regulus’s bones. He leaned against the cool tile of the on-call room, his head tilted back, eyes shut. For a fleeting moment, he considered the idea of actually sleeping—just an hour, maybe—but the sharp knock at the door pulled him back to reality.

“Black,” came a familiar voice.

Regulus sighed, cracking one eye open as the door swung inward. James stood in the doorway, arms crossed, hair even messier than usual—a clear indication of how the day had gone.

“Potter,” Regulus muttered, not bothering to move. “If you’re here to tell me I need to rest, save it.”

James huffed a quiet laugh, stepping inside and letting the door swing shut behind him. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Just figured you’d want an update.”

Regulus straightened slightly. “The patient?”

“Stable,” James confirmed. “Remus and Sirius are keeping an eye on him. He’s not out of the woods, but…” He hesitated, then gave a small nod. “You did good today.”

Regulus looked away. Praise always sat strangely in his chest—too foreign, too sharp. He knew he had done his job. That was enough.

James studied him for a moment before stepping closer, dropping onto the bench across from him. “Hell of a first few weeks,” he mused, stretching out his legs.

Regulus snorted softly. “Is this your way of telling me it gets worse?”

James grinned. “Oh, definitely.”

Regulus shook his head, but his lips twitched despite himself. The room fell into silence, the kind that wasn’t entirely comfortable but wasn’t unbearable either.

After a moment, James tapped his fingers against his knee. “Listen,” he said, a little hesitant now. “Are you—?”

Before he could finish, the door swung open again, and Remus stepped inside, looking between them with raised brows.

“Should’ve known I’d find you two holed up in here,” he said, smirking. “What, avoiding work?”

James rolled his eyes. “Some of us are actually taking a break, Lupin.”

Remus hummed, unconvinced, before turning his gaze to Regulus. “Sirius wants you in the conference room in fifteen. Something about follow-ups.”

Regulus exhaled, already dreading it. “Of course he does.”

Remus tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. “You look like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

“I would,” Regulus deadpanned, pushing himself to his feet.

James stood as well, watching him for a second before stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Guess break time’s over, then.”

Regulus gave a tired nod before heading toward the door, brushing past Remus as he went. But before he could step out, he heard James call his name.

He turned back, raising an eyebrow.

James hesitated, then just said, “See you out there.”

Regulus studied him for a second longer before nodding and disappearing down the hall.

Remus watched him go, then shot James a knowing look. “You’re subtle, Potter. Really.”

James groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “Shut up, Lupin.”

Regulus arrived at the conference room precisely on time, pushing the door open to find Sirius already there, leaning back in his chair with one foot propped against the edge of the table. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing ink-stained forearms, and he had a quill balanced between his fingers, spinning it absently.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Sirius arched a brow. “Look who actually showed up.”

Regulus exhaled sharply, pulling out a chair across from him. “You asked for me.”

“I did.” Sirius flipped through the patient files in front of him without looking up. “Because it’s my job.”

Regulus bristled. He could already feel the weight of unspoken words between them, stretching tight like a wire neither of them dared to snap.

Sirius tapped a page with his quill. “Our patient’s stable, but there’s still residual magical damage. You were on him the longest—notice anything unusual?”

Regulus leaned forward, scanning the notes. “The curse adapted as we worked. It wasn’t just clinging to him—it was learning from our magic.”

Sirius hummed, his expression unreadable. “Remus said the same thing.”

Regulus’s jaw tightened. Of course, Remus was someone Sirius listened to.

He didn’t say it out loud. Instead, he kept his voice even. “What’s the plan?”

Sirius finally looked up, and for a second—just a second—his gaze softened.

Then it was gone.

“We monitor him overnight. If his vitals hold, we’ll reassess in the morning.” Sirius tossed the quill onto the table. “That’s it.”

Regulus knew that wasn’t it .

But he nodded, standing to leave.

“Reg.”

He froze. The name was old, familiar in a way that sent something cold curling in his stomach. He turned back, eyes guarded.

Sirius studied him, fingers drumming against the table. Then he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Are you—” He hesitated, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

Regulus clenched his fists. He could feel what Sirius wanted to ask. Could see it in the way he sat forward like he actually cared , like he wanted to bridge the distance neither of them acknowledged.

Regulus beat him to it. “I’m fine.”

Sirius exhaled, a humorless laugh slipping out. “Yeah,” he muttered. “You always are.”

Regulus didn’t respond. He just turned and walked out, leaving the unspoken words hanging in the air between them.

The hospital never slowed. Even when the hallways were quieter, when the rush of emergency cases lulled to a rare hum, there was always something pressing, something waiting. Regulus had learned that quickly.

Today was no exception.

He had barely managed to escape to the break room for a moment’s peace when the door swung open, and Barty burst in, eyes alight with something between excitement and exhaustion.

“Tell me you’ve heard,” Barty said, slamming his coffee down on the counter.

Regulus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Considering I haven’t seen you in twelve hours , no, I haven’t heard.”

Dorcas strolled in behind Barty, looking significantly calmer as she plopped into a chair. “He’s talking about the new case.”

Regulus arched a brow. “Which one?”

Barty grinned, practically vibrating with energy. “Oh, just the minor detail that we have an Auror attack victim being transferred in from St. Mungo’s. High-profile. Top-tier magic.”

Regulus straightened slightly. “They’re bringing them here ?”

“Yep,” Dorcas confirmed, sipping her tea. “Apparently, it’s complicated enough that they need a specialized team. Sirius, Remus, and Potter are taking lead.”

Regulus stilled at that, but before he could dwell on it, Pandora breezed in, looking unusually frazzled. “Oh, good, you’ve heard.”

Regulus turned to her. “Do we know what kind of magic we’re dealing with?”

Pandora bit her lip. “That’s the thing. The spells they were hit with—nobody can quite identify them.”

That got Regulus’s attention. Unidentified magic. That meant unpredictable damage, a risk with every spell they cast.

Before anyone could say more, the intercom crackled overhead:

“Trauma team to intake. ETA five minutes.”

Regulus exchanged a look with his fellow trainees.

Barty grinned. “Showtime.”

The trauma bay was a storm of movement when they arrived. Regulus barely had time to snap on his gloves before the doors burst open, the stretcher floating in, guided by two medi-witches.

The patient—a man in his late forties, face pale and drenched in sweat—twitched violently against the restraints, his body jerking with spasms. Purple-black veins crawled up his neck, pulsing with some kind of residual magic.

Sirius was already at the head of the stretcher, barking orders. “Get him stabilized. Now.”

Regulus stepped in beside James, who was pressing a hand to the patient’s chest, his wand glowing faintly. “His vitals are fluctuating too fast,” James muttered. “Every stabilization charm is wearing off instantly .”

Remus was flipping through the transfer notes at the foot of the bed. “No known countercurse. Whatever he was hit with—it’s mutating .”

Regulus caught Sirius’s sharp intake of breath.

Sirius met Remus’s gaze, something unreadable flashing between them. “We need to contain this before it spreads.”

James nodded, already shifting his stance. “Agreed. Regulus, with me. We’re going to isolate the magic’s core.”

Regulus didn’t hesitate. He stepped in, wand steady, focusing on the dark veins twisting beneath the patient’s skin. If they didn’t act fast, whatever was inside him would tear through his body from the inside out.

Dorcas and Barty hovered nearby, ready to assist. “Say the word, and we’re in,” Dorcas said.

Regulus took a breath, steadying himself. The tension in the room was thick, the weight of Sirius’s gaze heavy on his back.

They had one shot at this.

He lifted his wand. “Let’s begin.”

The trauma bay pulsed with urgency, the beeping of monitors rapid and uneven. The patient convulsed again, his body arching unnaturally as the unidentified magic surged through his system. Regulus could feel the charge in the air, the way the dark veins along his arms seemed to pulse in response to their magic.

James was already moving, casting a diagnostic spell that flickered an eerie green over the patient’s chest. “It’s spreading to his heart,” he muttered, voice taut with tension.

Sirius cursed under his breath. “We need to isolate it before it reaches his lungs.”

“On it.” Remus flicked his wand in a tight, precise motion, his face unusually serious. “I’m trying to contain it, but it’s resisting—like it’s alive .”

Pandora, standing beside Evan near the potions cart, looked up sharply. “If it’s a sentient spell, we can’t just counter it. We need to trick it into latching onto something else.”

Evan was already rummaging through the emergency supply tray, his hands steady despite the chaos. “A siphoning agent?” he suggested, glancing at Pandora.

She nodded, already moving. “Something strong enough to bind the magic but not harm him in the process.”

Regulus barely heard them. He was focused, wand hovering inches over the patient’s sternum, tracking the way the magic moved beneath the skin. It was erratic, unpredictable. Every time he tried to pin it down, it slithered away, adapting to their spells faster than he’d ever seen before.

“It’s learning ,” he murmured, echoing his own words from days earlier.

James shot him a look. “Then we need to be smarter.”

Sirius cut in, his voice sharp. “Reg, think. If it’s sentient, what would force it to stay in place long enough to extract?”

Regulus’s mind raced. Sentient magic wasn’t just reactive—it was instinctual . It would fight anything it perceived as a threat. But if they gave it something irresistible …

His eyes flicked to Pandora, an idea forming. “What if we don’t fight it?”

Pandora’s eyes widened in understanding. “A magical decoy.”

Evan caught on just as fast. “You want to lure it out.”

Sirius frowned. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

Regulus didn’t hesitate. “We use a controlled magical source—something it can attach to. If it senses a stronger magic nearby, it’ll migrate toward it.”

James nodded, already preparing a containment spell. “But we have to control where it moves, or we risk it spreading outside the body.”

Pandora was already flipping through her kit. “A condensed energy field—if we create an artificial well of magic, the curse might shift into it.”

Remus met her gaze. “And once it’s out?”

Evan smirked. “We kill it.”

There was no time to second-guess.

Regulus took position opposite James, their wands hovering over the patient’s chest. Pandora placed a vial filled with swirling golden liquid near the patient’s shoulder, a controlled magical current crackling inside.

The moment the vial was uncorked, the dark veins beneath the patient’s skin reacted . The magic twitched toward it, like a predator sensing a meal.

“It’s working,” Dorcas muttered, her eyes locked on the movement.

James flicked his wand in a precise motion, guiding the magic upward. “Steady—”

The patient convulsed, a deep, guttural sound escaping his throat. The magic fought back, tendrils of darkness curling along his ribs.

Regulus grit his teeth. “Not yet— hold it .”

Sirius and Remus reinforced the containment shield as the dark energy lunged toward the vial. The moment it made contact, the glass shattered —but the magic was trapped, writhing in the air like ink suspended in water.

Evan didn’t hesitate. With a swift, controlled motion, he flicked his wand, sending a burst of concentrated white light at the mass. The cursed magic screeched —a sound that wasn’t human, wasn’t natural —before it collapsed in on itself, dissipating into nothing.

The monitors steadied. The patient exhaled, his body going limp.

Silence.

Then—

“Vitals are stabilizing,” Barty announced, letting out a sharp breath. “Bloody hell.”

Pandora leaned back against the counter, hand pressed to her chest. “That was too close.”

Regulus lowered his wand slowly, his heartbeat still thrumming in his ears. He could feel Sirius watching him, could feel the weight of James’s gaze, but he didn’t look up.

Remus was the first to speak. “That was good work.”

Sirius sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Painfully reckless, but good.”

Regulus finally glanced up, meeting his brother’s gaze. Sirius didn’t look away.

James clapped a hand on Regulus’s shoulder, his grip firm. “You do know how to make things dramatic, don’t you?”

Regulus huffed, exhausted. “If you wanted boring , Potter, you should’ve picked a different hospital.”

James grinned, and for a moment—just a moment—the tension in the room eased.

Dorcas stretched, rolling her shoulders. “Well, now that we’ve defied death , who’s buying drinks tonight?”

Evan smirked. “After that performance? Regulus owes us.”

Regulus groaned, rubbing his temple. “I saved the patient, why do I have to buy?”

Barty slung an arm around his shoulders. “Because we love you, obviously.”

Regulus shook his head but didn’t protest. “One drink,” he muttered, already heading for the door.

Regulus exhaled, casting one last glance at the patient—alive, stable —before following the others out.

For now, at least, they had won.

The pub was dimly lit, warm with the hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter from a neighboring table. The scent of firewhiskey and butterbeer mingled in the air, and somewhere in the corner, a magical jukebox played a slow, haunting tune that barely carried over the noise.

Regulus had never been particularly fond of places like this—too loud, too crowded—but tonight, the tension of the day still sat heavy in his chest, and the promise of alcohol and mild distraction was too tempting to pass up.

At their booth near the back, Barty had already claimed the seat next to Evan, draping himself over him with a kind of theatrical ease that was impossible to ignore.

“You know,” Barty drawled, fingers tracing the rim of his glass, “for a man so devastatingly attractive, you’re rather terrible at keeping up a conversation.”

Evan didn’t look up from his drink, smirking. “Maybe I’m just not interested in talking .”

Barty gasped, pressing a hand to his chest as if personally wounded. “Evan Rosier, are you flirting with me?”

Pandora snorted, taking a sip of her wine. “Merlin, Barty, the way you two go at it, you’d think you were already married.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, swirling his own glass of whiskey, the ice clinking softly against the sides. “It’s not flirting,” he muttered. “It’s foreplay.”

Evan chuckled, finally meeting Barty’s gaze. “Oh? And here I thought we were just having a normal conversation.”

Barty smirked. “Funny, I don’t do normal conversations.”

Regulus sighed, taking a long drink. “Clearly.”

Pandora giggled, nudging Regulus with her elbow. “Oh, let them have their fun. It’s entertaining.”

Regulus merely hummed in response, watching as Barty leaned closer, his breath ghosting against Evan’s ear. “You know,” Barty murmured, just loud enough for all of them to hear, “if you wanted to not talk somewhere less public , you could’ve just said so.”

Evan’s lips twitched at the corner. “I could say the same to you, Crouch.”

Barty grinned, sharp and victorious.

Pandora let out a delighted laugh. “This is honestly better than anything I could have hoped for.”

Regulus huffed a quiet laugh himself, shaking his head. It was ridiculous— they were ridiculous—but it was good. It was familiar. And after a day spent clawing a man back from death’s grip, he supposed he could afford to let himself enjoy the chaos, just for a little while.

“So,” Pandora said, resting her chin in her hand, eyes twinkling, “are we placing bets on who’s going to crack first?”

Regulus smirked. “No need. Evan’s already lost.”

Evan scoffed. “Excuse me?”

Barty beamed. “Oh, don’t look so offended, darling. It’s true.”

Regulus took another sip of his drink, satisfied.

For the first time that day, he felt a little lighter.

The drinks kept coming, and with each one, the four of them became looser, their laughter louder, their sharp tongues even sharper. The bar’s low lighting made everything feel a little hazier, a little warmer, and Regulus, who rarely let himself indulge in this kind of reckless abandon, found himself almost at ease.

Barty was the drunkest, which was hardly a surprise. He’d abandoned his usual dramatics in favor of leaning heavily into Evan’s side, fingers ghosting over the rim of his glass as he let his words slur just a little.

“You know,” he murmured, his lips dangerously close to Evan’s jaw, “you pretend to be all cool and composed, but I know the truth.”

Evan smirked, looking down at him. “Do you?”

“Mhm.” Barty took another sip, eyes half-lidded, voice dropping to something syrupy and teasing. “You like it when I pay attention to you.”

Regulus groaned, knocking back his own drink. “Merlin, do we have to witness this?”

Pandora, tipsy and delighted, giggled into her wine glass. “Oh, let them be, Reg. This is the highlight of my evening.”

Regulus shook his head, but he couldn’t deny the entertainment value. Evan, for all his usual restraint, had a hand on Barty’s knee now, his fingers idly tapping against the fabric of his trousers. It wasn’t nothing .

“I am not drunk enough for this,” Regulus muttered, signaling to the bartender for another whiskey.

Barty turned his attention to him, eyes glassy but sharp with mischief. “Oh, darling, you’re exactly the right amount of drunk.”

“Meaning?” Regulus arched a brow.

“Meaning,” Barty drawled, stretching out in his seat, “I think I finally see a little bit of warmth in that cold, dead heart of yours.”

Regulus scoffed, taking his newly arrived drink and swirling the amber liquid. “That’s the alcohol.”

Pandora leaned in, her blonde curls spilling over her shoulders as she rested her chin in her hands. “Oh, come on, Reg, aren’t you even a little glad we dragged you out tonight?”

Regulus sighed, but there was no real irritation in it. “It’s tolerable.”

Pandora grinned. “We’ll take it.”

Another round arrived, and by now, their words were looser, their gestures more exaggerated. Barty was properly draped over Evan, whispering things that made Evan’s smirk deepen and his hand tighten slightly on Barty’s thigh.

Pandora, meanwhile, had taken it upon herself to make up a drinking game on the spot. “Alright,” she declared, eyes sparkling with challenge, “every time Regulus rolls his eyes, we drink.”

Barty cackled. “Oh, brilliant —we’ll be absolutely slaughtered in twenty minutes.”

Regulus shot them all an unimpressed look. “I do not roll my eyes that often.”

Three simultaneous snorts of disbelief echoed around the table.

Evan, who had been quietly observing, lifted his glass. “He just did it. Drink.”

Regulus groaned as the other three knocked back their drinks. “I hate all of you.”

“No, you don’t,” Barty singsonged, cheeks flushed, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “You love us. We’re your only friends, after all.”

Regulus huffed but didn’t argue. Instead, he tilted his head back and downed his whiskey in one go, letting the burn settle deep in his chest.

For the first time in a long while, the weight of the hospital, of his own thoughts, of everything else —wasn’t quite as suffocating.

Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t mind this as much as he pretended to.