Breaking Point
The following morning was draped in a heavy, gray fog, the kind that seemed to hang in the air, thick and oppressive. James had barely slept, his thoughts churning with everything that had happened the night before—Moody’s scolding, Sirius’s quiet concern, and the unspoken tension between him and Regulus.
He stumbled out of bed, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on him already. It was still early, but there was no time to waste. The war didn’t wait for anyone, and neither did Moody.
When James entered the training room, he found Regulus already there, standing near the center, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Sirius was pacing by the wall, as though trying to burn off his own restless energy.
Moody stood at the front, his ever-watchful eye darting between them as he grunted in greeting. "Potter, Black," he rasped, his voice harsh with command. "You’re late."
James bit back a retort, knowing better than to challenge him this early in the day.
"I’m here now," he muttered, tossing his jacket onto the nearby bench. He couldn’t help but notice the way Regulus didn’t even acknowledge him, still standing with that same cold air of detachment. It was like nothing had changed.
Moody didn’t wait for anyone to settle. "We’ll start with the basics. Defensive spells, first. You’ll be working in pairs, Potter and Black. Since you seem to have no problem getting yourselves into trouble together, let’s see if you can get yourselves out of it."
James shot a glance at Regulus, who didn’t flinch. Regulus’s eyes were locked on Moody, his posture still straight as an arrow, every inch the picture of composure.
"Moody," James started, unable to stop himself, "you really think putting us together is a good idea?"
Moody’s magical eye swiveled in his direction, pinning him with a glare that sent a chill down his spine. "I don’t care what you think, Potter. This isn’t about your feelings. It’s about surviving." He paused, his gaze flicking between them again. "Now, I want to see your reaction times. Cast the Shield Charm. Together."
James clenched his fists, trying to shake off the sense of frustration tightening in his chest. He was about to protest when Regulus spoke first, his voice clipped and controlled.
"On three?"
"Three," James agreed, though it felt a little strange to be on the same page with him.
"One… two… three."
They both raised their wands, the words of the Shield Charm tumbling from their lips at the same time. There was a split second of hesitation before the shimmering blue barrier shot up between them, wavering slightly as it formed. James barely had time to assess it before Moody fired a weak jinx at them from across the room.
The shield flickered but held. James exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
"Not bad," Moody said, his tone begrudgingly approving. "But don’t get cocky. I’ll be hitting you harder next time."
Regulus didn’t acknowledge the compliment. His expression didn’t shift an inch. James felt the familiar flicker of annoyance start to rise, but he tamped it down.
Moody motioned for them to drop the shield. "Now, Potter, I want you to jinx Black."
"What?" James stared at him, momentarily stunned.
"I said jinx Black. And no holding back. If you want to work together, you need to learn how to react under pressure, even if it’s against each other."
James’s brow furrowed. "You want me to attack him?"
"Not seriously, Potter. Just a jinx. You’ll see how fast he can react. No hesitation. Got it?"
James looked over at Regulus, who was already waiting, expression neutral. It was clear he wasn’t going to flinch.
"Fine," James muttered, raising his wand. "Watch yourself, Black."
Before Regulus could respond, James cast a Disarming Charm. It shot through the air toward him, quick and precise.
Regulus didn’t even flinch. His own wand was already in motion, and with a simple flick, he deflected the spell, sending it careening into the wall.
"Better," Moody grunted, his magical eye swiveling toward James. "You’re too slow. You’re thinking too much. Next time, don’t hesitate. Regulus—"
"Don’t need your feedback, Moody," Regulus interrupted, his voice sharp.
James felt a flash of something—annoyance, maybe—but he kept his mouth shut. This wasn’t the time for arguing.
"Next," Moody barked. "Potter, you try again. This time, Regulus, no shield. Just your reflexes."
James nodded, but his stomach was tied in knots. There was something about being in the firing line like this that felt different. But he pushed it down, focusing on Regulus in front of him.
On three again, James cast another spell—this time a Stinging Hex aimed at Regulus’s arm. The spell hit its mark, causing Regulus to flinch, but only briefly. With a sharp motion, Regulus returned fire with a Bludgeoning Curse, the force of the spell sending James stumbling back, barely managing to raise his shield in time.
Moody didn’t look impressed. "You’ve got potential, both of you. But you need to trust your instincts more."
Sirius, who had been watching from the sidelines, spoke up, his voice tight. "You two need to stop playing at this. Just work as if your lives depend on it."
James didn’t know what it was about Sirius’s tone—maybe it was the way his gaze flicked from him to Regulus, something unsaid in his eyes—but it hit harder than anything Moody had said.
He exhaled sharply, glancing at Regulus. For a second, just a fleeting second, their eyes locked, and James felt an odd shift. Not a truce, but something like it. He didn’t know if he could trust Regulus.
"Let’s just finish this," James muttered, steeling himself.
Regulus nodded, his expression still unreadable, but there was something in the way he held himself that made James think he was trying, too.
James took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. There was no backing out now, not when they were already halfway through this strange, uncomfortable session. He glanced at Regulus again, this time less with frustration and more with a sort of reluctant curiosity. They had to get this right, or Moody would be on their backs for the rest of the week.
"Alright, again," Moody barked, his magical eye swiveling toward them. "This time, no hesitation. I want to see how quickly you can respond."
James nodded, feeling the familiar rush of energy as he raised his wand. Regulus did the same, his stance steady and unwavering, his eyes fixed on James like they were already in the middle of a duel.
"Ready?" Moody’s voice was sharp, like the crack of a whip.
"Ready," James muttered, barely keeping his focus on the words that had to leave his mouth. He knew the spells, but every time he raised his wand against Regulus, it felt... wrong.
"Go!" Moody commanded.
Without thinking, James cast a Jelly-Legs Jinx. It sped toward Regulus in a flash. But Regulus was faster, his wand flicking in a blur of movement that sent the jinx veering off to the side.
"Not bad," Moody said, his voice gruff. "But you’re still holding back, Potter. Think faster."
James clenched his jaw, determined not to back down this time. Regulus was good—he knew that much. He’d seen it in the way Regulus had handled the previous spells, his reflexes sharper than James would have given him credit for. There was something unsettlingly efficient about the way he fought, something coldly calculated.
Regulus didn’t say a word. He just raised his wand again, and before James could even react, Regulus cast a spell—Expelliarmus—a clean, precise disarming charm that hit James square in the chest, sending his wand flying from his hand.
James blinked in surprise as his wand flew through the air. He hadn’t expected Regulus to disarm him so swiftly.
"Not bad," Moody commented again, but this time, his voice was approving. "You’ve got the idea. Potter, get it together."
James took a moment, gritting his teeth and retrieving his wand. He couldn’t afford to let himself be thrown off balance like that. He had to focus.
Sirius’s voice cut through the tension. "This isn’t about showmanship, James," he called, his voice laced with frustration. "It’s about survival. You’re wasting time trying to show off."
James couldn’t suppress the urge to glance at Sirius. He wasn’t trying to show off. He was trying to get his head on straight.
But Moody wasn’t waiting for any further commentary. He raised his voice, snapping them back into position. "Get back in position, both of you. Regulus, don’t go easy on him. And Potter—"
"Yeah, yeah, I know," James muttered, stepping into stance, his wand steady in his hand. "No hesitation."
Moody’s eye bore into him, unwavering. "Exactly. Now fight."
Regulus’s eyes flicked toward him, cold and unreadable. For a brief moment, James thought he saw something—something almost like… pity? Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. Regulus never did show his hand.
James had just enough time to brace himself before Regulus was on him, casting a quick Confringo that lit up the room with a burst of flame. James dodged, rolling to the side, but the heat singed the edges of his shirt.
"You’re too slow, Potter!" Regulus called, almost taunting him.
James’s heart pounded in his chest, the adrenaline rushing through his veins. His wand snapped to life, and without thinking, he cast a Petrificus Totalus aimed at Regulus’s feet, hoping to catch him off guard.
But Regulus was quicker. He sidestepped it with ease, countering with a curse that sent James reeling back, barely able to keep his footing. Regulus didn’t pause for a second. The next spell came fast—Expulso, a violent blast of force that nearly sent James flying across the room.
"Get up!" Moody barked, his magical eye twitching as he observed their movements. "Potter, you’ve got to be faster than that. Regulus, stop giving him room to breathe."
Sirius stepped forward, his jaw tight. "James—use your instincts! Don’t wait to think about it, just react."
James’s thoughts were a whirlwind. His heart hammered in his chest. It was all he could do to keep up with Regulus, whose every movement was so precise, so fluid, like he was born to fight. Regulus was on another level, and it infuriated James to admit it. He wasn’t used to being outclassed, especially not by someone like Regulus Black.
But there was something about it—something about how Regulus moved, how his magic was controlled, purposeful. James knew it wasn't about brute force. It was about subtlety, efficiency. Regulus wasn’t trying to overpower him, he was trying to outthink him.
And that made James angry. Not because it was unfair, but because it made him realize he was missing something. Something important.
"Focus, Potter!" Regulus shouted, barely pausing. Another curse shot toward him, and James raised his wand just in time to deflect it. But Regulus was already two steps ahead.
It was like a game of chess, and James was losing.
He felt it—an opening. The briefest of moments, where Regulus left himself exposed. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.
James didn’t hesitate this time. He cast the Stupefy with everything he had, his voice barely more than a shout.
Regulus’s eyes widened for the fraction of a second before he was hit, the force of the spell knocking him off his feet and sending him sprawling to the ground.
James stood frozen, panting, his heart still racing in his chest. The room was silent for a moment, the sound of his breath the only thing filling the space.
Moody was the first to break the silence. "Well," he grunted, sounding almost impressed. "You finally got it."
James didn’t feel triumphant. He felt something else—a strange sort of respect for Regulus, for his quiet composure, for the way he could predict and counter every move with calm precision.
Regulus slowly pushed himself up, dusting himself off with a tight expression. His eyes didn’t meet James’s. Instead, he gave a brief, clipped nod, acknowledging the hit before stepping back into position.
"Good," Moody said. "That’s what I wanted to see. You’ve got potential. Both of you." He looked at James with a flicker of approval. "But don’t think for a second this is over. We’ll keep at it until it’s second nature. You can’t afford to hesitate."
James didn’t respond immediately. His mind was still spinning from the fight, his thoughts racing over the move he’d made. He’d beaten Regulus, sure. But the real victory wasn’t in the spell—it was in learning to trust his instincts, to stop thinking and just act.
And that, he realized, was going to take a lot more work than he’d ever expected.
The tension in the room was still palpable, the sound of heavy breathing from both James and Regulus hanging in the air long after Moody’s commands had stopped. The sparring match had ended, but neither of them was ready to relax just yet.
Moody, however, was. He stood with his arms crossed, eye fixed on them.
"Enough for now," Moody barked. "You both need a break before I work you into the ground. Fifteen minutes. Then we go again."
James let out a relieved breath, feeling the tension in his shoulders finally begin to ease. He shot a quick look at Regulus, who had already straightened up, unbothered, as always.
Moody turned on his heel and stalked off, presumably to find something else to yell at someone about. James glanced at Sirius, who was leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, watching them intently.
"Fifteen minutes," Sirius confirmed, voice slightly strained. "I suggest you both take advantage of it." His gaze shifted between them. "I know you don’t exactly get along, but this is the kind of thing where you should probably talk to each other. Build some—what’s the word—" He paused, trying to find the right word. "—rapport."
"Right," James muttered, glancing at Regulus again, who was gathering his things with a deliberate calmness that made James feel like he was rushing.
"Don’t worry, I’m not planning on spending the break with him," James added, trying to sound more casual than he felt.
Regulus didn’t acknowledge him, but instead moved toward the small bench by the wall, sitting down with an almost regal air. His posture remained impeccable, as though everything was exactly as it should be.
Sirius snorted from the wall. "Don’t be so sure. You’re both stuck with each other for the long haul."
James grimaced. "I know," he muttered, already starting to feel the weight of the day settle back on his shoulders.
After a long moment of silence, where neither of them seemed in the mood to speak, Regulus finally broke the quiet, his voice quiet but pointed. "So, Potter. Do you actually plan to finish me off next time, or will you be too busy hesitating?"
James’s head snapped up, surprised by the cutting tone. For a moment, it was like nothing had changed. The same rivalry. The same sharp words. But there was something else in Regulus’s gaze. It wasn’t just a challenge—it was… a test.
"I was making sure I didn’t kill you, Black," James shot back quickly, trying to keep the tone light despite the way his chest tightened. "But next time? Don’t worry. I won’t hold back."
Regulus raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "I’ll believe it when I see it."
James clenched his fists slightly. "You don’t think I could?"
"I think you could, if you stopped thinking so damn much," Regulus replied smoothly, not missing a beat. "You’ve got potential. But you’re always second-guessing yourself."
James bristled, irritated. "I’m just making sure I don’t kill you on accident. You know, unlike you, I don’t enjoy sending people to the infirmary."
Regulus’s lips twitched, a hint of a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. "You don’t think I know that? You’re not the only one who wants to make it through this alive."
The words lingered in the air, heavier than either of them expected. Regulus was right. They weren’t just sparring for the hell of it. This wasn’t some schoolyard rivalry. There were lives at stake, and James knew, deep down, that he couldn’t afford to hesitate. Not anymore.
A soft chuckle broke the moment. James turned to see Sirius pushing himself off the wall, looking slightly amused by the exchange between them.
"You two are ridiculous," he muttered. "If you spent half as much time working together as you did arguing, maybe you wouldn’t have nearly gotten yourselves killed on the mission last night."
James didn’t meet his eyes. "We got back, didn’t we?"
"Doesn’t mean you didn’t get lucky," Sirius shot back, shaking his head. "It’s like you’re both trying to prove something to each other that doesn’t even matter."
James could feel Regulus’s gaze on him, but he refused to look over. He wasn’t about to let Sirius—of all people—act like he knew what James needed. Regulus didn’t need saving. And he sure as hell wasn’t interested in fixing whatever strange little rivalry they’d gotten into.
"I don’t need to prove anything to him," James muttered.
Regulus’s voice was suddenly closer, and James shot a quick glance at him. "You sure about that? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re trying to prove you can take me down."
James smirked, despite the knot in his stomach. "Maybe," he said, his tone light. "But mostly, I just wanted to see if you’d flinch."
Regulus’s lips quirked up, but the smile was more bitter than amused. "I don’t flinch, Potter."
"I noticed," James shot back, raising an eyebrow. "You’re not exactly easy to rattle."
Regulus tilted his head, as though considering James’s words carefully. "That’s because I don’t waste time with unnecessary moves. You should try it sometime."
James opened his mouth, about to retort, but before he could say anything, Sirius cut in.
"Alright, alright," he said, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. "You two might not want to admit it, but you make a pretty decent pair when you’re not trying to kill each other."
Regulus’s smile faded, replaced by his usual mask of indifference. But James swore there was something there, just beneath the surface. A flicker of acknowledgment.
James leaned against the wall and let out a long breath, feeling his muscles start to loosen a little. "I’m still not sure how I feel about working with him."
Regulus’s voice was light, almost teasing. "You’ll get used to it. Or not. But you’ll have to survive either way."
James turned his head slightly to meet his eyes. "Yeah," he said softly, as if contemplating the weight of it. "We’ll see."
It was strange, but for a fleeting moment, James felt that the tension between them wasn’t entirely hostile. It wasn’t friendship, not by a long shot, but it was something more than just animosity. Maybe it was trust. Or maybe, just the strange understanding that they were in this together, whether either of them liked it or not.
Sirius glanced at the clock. "Well, fifteen minutes are almost up, and I have no intention of being here any longer than necessary. Let’s go, you two. Time to get back to work."
James nodded, but as he glanced at Regulus one last time, he caught something in his gaze. Not mockery. Not the usual disdain. But something else—maybe a flicker of reluctant respect.
And for the first time, it felt like they weren’t on opposite sides anymore.