Chapter 1
December 1976
“What are you doing?”
I can see my voice has startled him out of a sort of reverie; his dark eyes fly open and a sharp gasp escapes his lips as he whips his body around to look at me, the dusting of snow that had gathered on his hair and coat sliding off of him and onto the ground.
"I am merely trying to enjoy the silence of the night,” the boy replies with a voice that flows like silken smoke, but his tone is biting. He regards me with a cold gaze, hands tucked deep into the black fabric that hugs his lean form. I watch his eyes flicker down to observe my blue-and-grey striped scarf and the shiny Hogwarts prefect badge adorned onto my robes. His eyes narrow, but he says nothing.
For a moment, he looks like he is going to say something else, but then the pause continues for so long that I begin to wonder if he is going to say anything at all.
Finally, he speaks. "Who are you?" I hear him ask sharply.
I raise an eyebrow. “I'm Pandora,” I reveal slowly, choosing to keep my last name a secret. I don’t feel much like sharing right now.
He doesn't introduce himself in return or offer any other sort of reply. This is fine.
Given the relaxed atmosphere, I take a few moments to observe my surroundings. I had originally assumed he’d been out flying after dark, but upon quick assessment, I find that the Quidditch pitch appears to be undisturbed, save for some shallow footprints here and there. In fact, the more I look, the more evidence seems to suggest that he has indeed been lying here enjoying the silence of the night- and for at least two hours at that. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I sigh. “I assume you are simply unaware that curfew passed hours ago?”
A crooked smile tugged at the corners of his lips, marring his otherwise handsome features and making him look rather ugly. "I know perfectly well that it is past curfew, Pandora ,” he responds derisively, as though my name is poisonous.
At this point, I am thoroughly unimpressed by his haughty attitude, and I find myself putting in a conscious effort not to make some snippy and unhelpful remark, as I know I am so prone to doing in moments like these.
Instead, I distract myself by taking a moment to try and place where I might have seen him before; I am almost certain I recognize him from somewhere. Finally, something clicks. “You're in my Transfiguration class, aren't you? You sit behind me.”
He tries to remain impassive, but a glimmer of recognition flickers across his face when I mention his seat.
"Yes, I’m in your class,” he confirms, his voice tinged with resentment. “Why?”
Unphased, I hum thoughtfully at his response. Indeed, I know who he is now. I should have known all along, really. “You’re quite talented, you know,” I say softly. I’m not sure if I am referring to his talents in Transfiguration or Quidditch. Maybe both.
The boy's eyebrows furrow as he considers my comment. "Talented?"
I nod. "Very," I reply.
At this, his lips purse together and he looks at the ground for a moment. He looks like he is trying to figure out if I am making fun of him or not. He must have decided on the latter, because after several moments of silence, he gives the simplest of responses. "Thank you."
I know I should report him for being out after curfew, but I figure the last thing Regulus Black needs is detention, given the recent state of things. Thus, I sigh in resignation, and reluctantly pose the question that has been on my mind since I first suspected who I was speaking with, “You're Sirius' brother, right?”
His body tenses instantly at the mention of his sibling, and I can sense I have touched upon a sore subject. "I am," he hesitantly confirms. The sadness in his voice is palpable, and he quickly averts his gaze from me to the open field in front of us. The wind tousles his hair, whipping the inky black curls across his forehead. After a moment, he asks, "Tell me, why did you become a prefect?"
I almost laugh at the poor attempt to steer the subject away from his brother. Regardless, I let him get away with it and answer him truthfully. “I have an insatiable need to know what everyone’s up to all the time.” I’m not entirely joking, but I smile so he doesn’t take me too seriously.
"Apparently so," he comments dryly, ignoring my joke. He is still facing the field and maintaining a frosty demeanor towards me. For a moment, I fear my humor has fallen flat. Tough crowd! Then, in a flash, I see the smallest hint of amusement in his eyes. “So you didn't sign up for the mere advantage of being able to punish those who have wronged you?”
“No, I did not.” I try to ignore the implications of his initial comment and continue the banter, but my response comes out cold despite my best efforts. He's right, though. I have been quite nosy, though I have never considered that it might be a bad thing until now. Still, perhaps it is that very curiosity that finds me standing here in the chilly evening air with him instead of returning to my rounds.
Suddenly, my mood is instantly improved, as I have a splendid idea: “Did you know, during my rounds last week, I happened upon a most peculiar sight...”
I can tell he is curious about what I have to say but does not want to admit it so quickly. After a moment’s consideration, he demands, “Well? Go on, then.”
Smugly, I continue. And with what were to be my next words, I knew I’d have him hooked. “I thought I saw- no, I’m quite certain, actually- I saw Sirius Black and his friends running into the Forbidden Forest just before midnight!” I declare, eager to see his reaction.
He starts, sitting upright now. "Sirius? In the Forbidden Forest? And what on earth was he doing in there?" he asks, his voice cracking slightly.
"Ah, but that is not all," I continue, a smile playing at my lips. "For just as I was about to go after them, to inform them they had been spotted, they all transformed into animals. In fact, I am convinced I saw Sirius turn into a black dog!"
"A black dog? They all turned into animals? Do you mean to tell me that Sirius is an Animagus? You saw this with your own eyes? You are certain? This is highly illegal!" His eyes are wide now, similarly to how they were when I first caught him lying here- but this time, they are clear and open; full of emotion. It is at this moment that I realize that they are gray.
I shake my head and look away. My cheeks are sore from the effort of trying to contain my amusement, and my eyes are glazed over with mirth. I thought he might be interested in this topic. Who's nosy now?
When I finally turn back to him, I see that he has shifted his gaze towards the Forbidden Forest. "You know, becoming an Animagus takes a great deal of skill. It's- it’s actually sort of impressive what they've accomplished, don't you think?" I prompt.
"I...yes. Yes it is. I think that is very advanced magic," he admits, momentarily at a loss for words. For the first time tonight, he seems to have forgotten his careful filter.
Seizing the opportunity, I continue the conversation. "I'm a bit jealous, to be honest. I mean, I’ve always been curious about the process of becoming an Animagus, it just seems so difficult. I wouldn’t know where to start.”
He doesn’t take my bait, still processing my previous revelation. Regardless, I continue to pry, “How about you, Black? Have you ever considered it?”
He finally moves. "I have," he looks down, speaking softly. "But I had no idea that my brother...I mean, Sirius had taken up such a pursuit. He has not seen fit to tell me about his hobby." He says the word 'brother' as if he is afraid to admit it. Or perhaps he is afraid to admit that he and Sirius are not close anymore. "He is quite good, isn't he? At magic." His gaze lingers on me for a moment before he looks away again, as if he is considering something.
It is snowing harder now, the white crystals contrasting harshly against his dark eyelashes, and I can see many thoughts flitting across his face, one after another. "Do you...," he begins, but falters, not entirely sure of what he wants to say. He then looks up at me, his eyes dark and troubled. "Do you think that I could learn how to become an Animagus as well?"
I'm taken aback by his question. He seems so uncertain, so different from the mischievous and sarcastic young man who I first encountered lying supine on the ground. “Yes.” I look into his eyes as I tell him this, to convey my sincerity; I want him to be sure I am not just saying this to be kind- I really mean it. “I truly believe you’re capable of anything you set your mind to.”
For a moment, he studies me with a searching gaze, before finally a semblance of ease settles upon his countenance. “I appreciate that.”
“You can call me Dora,” I reply, without quite knowing why. “If you like.”
He considers this for a second before, in a swift motion, he shifts his weight and offers his left hand out towards me, “Okay, Dora,” he says, testing my name on his tongue. “I’m Regulus Black.”
"It's lovely to meet you, Regulus Black," I smile brightly and accept his hand in mine. It is both rough and soft. Both warm and cold. He has a strong grip, too, though there is a certain gentleness to his touch that surprises me.
"I suppose I should let you get back to your prefect duties, then?" he says after a second. But I think he wants me to stay.
Only now, I realize how long we’ve been talking. I sigh reluctantly. “Ah, yes I should probably get back to those. Other strange boys to bother and whatnot,” I tease.
A scowl momentarily crosses his face, but the corners of his mouth betray him, turning upwards against his will.
As I chuckle and turn to leave, he says one last thing, “You know, your company isn't so terrible.”
“Nor is yours, Regulus.” And with that, I make my way back to the castle.
---
The next morning, I find myself drawn to take my seat beside Regulus in our Transfiguration lesson. Though I am uncertain of his reaction, I have resolved to show him that I am not intimidated by his cold demeanor.
While I approach my seat with what I hope is a pleasant smile, Regulus gives no indication that he has noticed my arrival. Instead, he appears to be completely absorbed in an essay, his quill scrawling furiously across the page.
"Good morning, Regulus," I say, hoping to break the silence.
I know he has heard me because at my voice he abruptly stops his scribbling- but, for some reason, he makes no real move to acknowledge my presence; rather, his gaze remains fixed on the parchment before him, and the silence between us grows thick and awkward. Then, just as I am ready to accept defeat and turn away- he finally looks up, eyes unreadable and grayer than ever. "Good morning, Pandora,” he says in a measured tone.
I am almost thrown off by his stiff behavior, but I refuse to be discouraged; I take a breath and settle myself into the seat beside him before taking out my own parchment and quill.
As Professor McGonagall enters the room, I lean in close and whisper to him mischievously, "Say, Professor McGonagall is an Animagus, is she not? Do you reckon she would be willing to impart some of her knowledge to us, if we were to ask?"
Regulus regards me with a slight frown. “I imagine she would be less than pleased to receive such a request.”
He’s right, of course. I know it is a stupid idea, but I am excited by the opportunity nonetheless. “Obviously,” I say seriously. “But isn’t it convenient that we have an Animagus within reach, and with teaching experience at that?”
“Actually, I hadn’t thought of that,” he says sardonically. “You know what? Now that you mention it, I say go ahead. If you’re subtle enough, you may only get a week’s detention!”
I glare at him and open my mouth to retort, but I quickly shut it when McGonagall interrupts our exchange with a pointed look and a clearing of her throat.
"Good morning, students," she begins, her voice stern and unyielding. "Today, we will be exploring the transformation of objects into animals."
I breathe in sharply. Despite Regulus’s pessimism, I feel that this must be a sign.
McGonagall raises her wand, and with a flick, a small stone statue of a cat on the desk in front of her begins to glow with a bright, golden light. Suddenly, the statue twitches and grows, fur sprouting from its surface, until it is no longer a statue, but a living, breathing cat.
"Transfiguration is not a simple process," McGonagall warns, her eyes never leaving the cat. "It requires focus, discipline, and a deep understanding of the object- or, in this case, the animal- of which you wish to conjure. You must be able to truly visualize your end result. It is for this reason that our most celebrated Masters of Transfiguration happen to be brilliant artists. Moreover, the spell must be cast with the utmost precision, as a single misstep can result in disaster."
She then turns her gaze to the class, her gaze landing on Pandora and Regulus. "But for those who master it, the results can be truly remarkable."
With a flick of her wand, the cat disappears, and in its place stands a magnificent eagle, with feathers of gold and silver shining in the light. The students gasp in amazement as the eagle spreads its wings and takes flight, soaring above the classroom, before disappearing with a pop.
"Now," says McGonagall, turning to the chalkboard and beginning to write. "We will go over the incantations and procedures for this spell. Pay close attention, as you will be expected to demonstrate your mastery of the spell in next week's practical examination."
For the duration of the class, Regulus and I were bent over our respective parchment papers, scribbling notes and paying close attention to every word that McGonagall spoke.
Later, as the lesson draws to a close and everyone begins to gather their things, I stay perfectly still. Regulus glances at me and shakes his head before gathering his own belongings and leaving.
"Excuse me, Professor," I said meekly once everyone had left. "Could I ask you something?"
McGonagall eyes me from behind a large mahogany desk at the front of the classroom, her usual strict demeanor softened by the lingering excitement of today's lesson. Still, her face looks sharp, like an edge that could cut through even steel. "What is it you need?"
I take a deep breath, careful to choose my words wisely. "The art of transformation, specifically pertaining to animals, has always fascinated me, Professor. I find myself longing to delve deeper into its complexities."
McGonagall’s eyes bore into mine. "Ah, transforming into animals, you say," she raises a brow, "It is not for the faint of heart."
I fear I have not been subtle enough, as she appears to have already picked up what I am truly asking her. Still, I persist. "But surely, one with the proper dedication and discipline can master such an art.”
"Indeed, one can," she replies, a twinkle in her eye. "However, such knowledge is not easily acquired. One must be willing to embark upon a perilous journey, fraught with trials and challenges."
"I am not one to shy away from a challenge, Professor," I declare, my resolve growing stronger.
"Is that so?" she considers me for a moment. Then she appears to make a decision. "In that case, I must inform you that this journey, though perilous, is also most rewarding. Of the many results you may end up with, the most certain of all is...enlightenment."
And with that cryptic response, she gives me a small smile before returning to her duties, leaving me to ponder her words, but I already understand what she has hinted at.
“Thank you, Professor. I really appreciate your help,” I say as I turn to leave and go find Regulus.
“I do not know what you're talking about, Pandora," McGonagall replied smoothly.