Fourth Year (When They Grew Up)
…Fourth year, 1975. The sounds are getting louder.
—
Summer was filled with a plethora of movies and books and library-coffee shop dates between the Seven of them.
The con on Potter is still going on strong, even if they laid it back a bit at the end of last year to accommodate Sev and Panda's recovery from the lab explosion.
(Funny story, really. After the Mercury Experiment, their resident waterbenders gained inspiration . They figured hey, if we could manipulate a liquid metal, why not other liquids?
So for about five weeks, the two of them pulled consecutive all-nighters brewing and making all sorts of shit— potions, poisons, antidotes, acids, even more potent poisons because hey, they were two chemistry geniuses locked up together in an alchemy lab with infinite materials, so why the hell not? Severus and Pandora were in the middle of planning a field trip to Snake Island in Brazil to de-venom ninety-percent of its snake population when one of their vats exploded and dosed them in enough laughing gas to cause them to be all loony for three weeks straight.
Dorcas, Evan and Lily took turns monitoring their lab time together after that, because, unsurprisingly, Regulus was banned from all things potions to hell and back. Not that any of the him-proofing worked, but he liked to give them the illusion of safety.)
Right now, they are all curled up in Dorry's room, legs and arms over one another as they watch The Eternals . It was ironic that one of the names they contemplated calling themselves was now the title for a band of not-actually-gods-but-something-else-that's-called, well, Eternals.
And yes, Regulus did actually get to see the movie— like see see, thanks to the brainchild that came from their collective spontaneous invention week. It was a neat tool: a thin, matt, black two-piece rectangular clip ons that can be attached to the TV via magnets, connected together by a mesh screen.
It was a very cool passion project, and everybody contributed.
The arithmancy equation and runes net that he and Lily invented would enable Pandora and Severus’ latest lovechild— some sort of colorless Non-Newtonian solid-liquid thing made out of Jennamite that Regulus is convinced was sentient— to project whatever's on the screen in 4D motion, while Evan worked out a spell rig that would automatically translate and feed the RGB light frequencies from the TV behind the mesh to the Arth. Eq. and activate the runes. Dorcas and Barty, the only two people who had any knowledge of smithing craftsmanship made the case and mesh— because, apparently, Regulus’ metalsmith techniques were too brutish and ‘undelicate’ for such a fragile product.
The end result was that after a month and a half of hard work; everyone got to see The Eternals in 4D without the need for special glasses (if they weren't blind), and Regulus was able to ‘watch’ the movie using his Earthbending, also in 4D.
Afterwards, being the very inspired teenager that he was, Evan had an idea. And, like the rest of Regulus’ friends, he's equipped with the self-preservation instincts of a chocolate kettle.
“If we try hard enough, do you think we could make a material that works like cosmic energy?”
They all looked at each other, before collectively coming to the conclusion.
Welp. Looks like they're creating an entirely new element for shits and giggles.
And because they aren't a bunch of cowards who want a cartoonish death via the powerful-magical-invention-falling-into-the-wrong-hands trope, they specifically made the element to cater to their own soul signatures. Only their soul signatures. Somehow. Nobody else besides the seven of them could do anything with this seemingly useless blob of gold Cosmergy (uncreative name, he knows, but he wasn't going to waste his breath on an extra two syllables when a merge was perfectly reasonable).
How that part worked, Regulus didn't really bother with— all he knew was that ‘Dora energy-bended the thing into what they needed. A strange side effect was that they were able to ‘bend’ it, so to speak— but it wasn't like any of their own elements. It felt really, really Weird.
It felt like Magic.
(Barty, the best in philosophy between all seven of them, speculated that because it was connected to their souls, and therefore magic, it might just be that the Cosmergy was tapping into their reserves and becoming the physical state of their Magic. So there might be a chance that they were learning how to bend Magic itself, but what do they know?)
By the time they were all settled for the sorting ceremony, Lily and Sev were over together at the Lions’ table fiddling with a near infinite rotation of daggers and needles while loudly debating the merits of stabbing their enemies to death or giving them heart attacks via compressed air between the toes.
Pandora was twirling with her new golden baton as she read her latest fantasy book, while Evan fiddled with his intricate boomerang, both at the Raven’s. Dorcas had her fan out, opening and closing it between random intervals to pass the time. Barty enthusiastically spent the entire feast trying to make his old Dao swords. Regulus was gleefully showing his cousins his Cosmergy, gleeful maniac smile mirrored on the three sister's faces.
All of them pointedly ignored the nervous glances sent their way, belonging to those who were too afraid to question why the seven of them had shapeshifting weapons. Well, except those with a death wish.
Welp. At least it wasn't Potter this time. The bunch of them needed a new target anyways.
“Hey! Girls aren't allowed to have weapons! That's a man’s thing!!” - Said an ignorant, sexist, newly-sorted Gryffindor boy, pointing at Lily’s Cosmergy stiletto, - “And that's not even a real knife!”
The blade was pretty silly, Regulus will admit, seemingly made of gleaming wires and gold string twirling in an artful geometry in the vague shape of a stiletto. But Regulus also knew that in no way that dagger she's holding is dull.
There was a glint in Lily's eye that promised the boy agony. She doesn't say anything outwardly, just placidly displaying her signature sugar-sweet smile. Sev no doubt saw what his best friend was doing, gave a nasty side-eye to the dense first-year and Lily an approving smirk.
Not a word about women and weapons ever came from that boy's mouth ever again.
—
It was a Hogsmade weekend, which meant a time of ridiculous fun. How they've never thought of this before completely baffled Severus.
On cue, Barty and Evan bursted into the Hogs’ Head, dressed up in elaborate Viking get-ups and dragging an annoyed Regulus between them.
The four of them stifled their laughs behind warm mugs of butterbeer.
“‘Cuse me, barmaid, I'm afraid ya' brought me the wrong offspring!” - Evan roared, sauntering towards Aberforth, voice deep in a comically loud Viking accent.
Their giggles were collectively growing louder.
“I ordered an extra large boy with beefay arms, extra guts' n' glory on the side!” - Barty boomed, in the same exaggerated accent. He pointed towards Regulus, - “This ‘here! This is a talkin' fishbone!”
They couldn't take it anymore and rolled down cackling. Aberforth just looked done with their bullshit, but Severus can spy a tiny little smile on the grumpy Dumbledore's face.
Regulus, for his part, dutifully acted appropriately gutted and wailed dramatically. It sparked another round of laughter, and they all clinked their butterbeers with a cheer.
Here's to another relatively peaceful year.
—
Bellatrix cursed, frantically dashing through the train halls.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could she believe Rita?!
Her escape plan has been in the works for years. Graduate Hogwarts, kiss her sisters and cousins goodbye, then fuck off to Spain or America where her parents won't ever bother her again.
‘Cissa was the only one she told, and Bella knew the other three were smart enough to sniff it out and keep their mouths shut. ‘Meda and Sirius made her swear to send her words once she's safe! Regulus even gifted her a pair of dual-usage boots, for Merlin's sake!
They will never betray her. Bellatrix wished they did, because then she'd only have to figure out who the hell Imperioused them.
This was all her fault. She was stupid. She was blindsided.
Nobody made her trust Rita Skeeter, that reprehensible fucking skunk. Bella deluded herself into believing that Skeeter would be able to keep her mouth shut and help her.
And now, Bellatrix was paying the full price for the cost of her actions.
Father and Mother sent word, after that fucking article came out— all those vile, disgusting words burned her soul and branded her with a title she never wanted.
“Lady Bellatrix Ashtoreth of House Black, fiancé of Rodolphus Lestrange, is the rumored new lieutenant of the Dark Lord despite not having reached the age of majority. Word has it that her initiation into the Death Eater circles will be granted upon her seventeenth birthday, said to be mere formality only…”
‘Lady of the House, my fucking ass.’ - She thought, - ‘Financé to that dickface? ‘Rumored’ new lieutenant to the Dark Git? ‘Initiation into the Death Eater circles’? Who the hell do they think I am, a madwoman?’
She had come face to face with Sir Crazy Genocidal Maniac, professional Dark Wizard, Noseless Jerk Extraordinaire, once. And after that, her parents kept pestering her to attend those icky meetings filled with sexist old men who come together and plan ‘How To Commit Heinous War Crimes 101’ classes.
Honestly. You impress a homicidal psychopath with no sense of fashion or proper nasal cartilage by insulting the brainless idiots he called followers, and somehow that means you've signed up for his little Evile Army.
Ducking into a deserted compartment, Bella collapsed behind the door, trying to reign in her breaths.
Think. THINK! They're coming to get you, you don't have time to be panicking!
That FUCKING article couldn't have come at a worse time. The day students are going home for Christmas break, really? It was as if Skeeter wanted her dead!
Maybe she did.
Because her parents’ letter arrived just after that Daily Prophet article did, and in no way would they be able to know about it if it weren't told beforehand. It was an ugly thing— filled with proud warnings, subtle threats and vile mentions of her engagement that Bellatrix has no knowledge of.
It was as if the entire thing was planned—
…no matter. It doesn't change what happened.
What would her sisters think? What would Sirius and Regulus think? What would her friends think? Hell, would she even be alive in two weeks?
Wasn't that the million-galleon question.
It was a mistake, waking up this morning. She should've pretended to be dead years ago.
Tears burned her eyes, and Bella doesn't give a fuck about silencing charms when she ripped out her hair and screamed.
Cygnus and Druella Black will be on that platform, waiting for the three of them. She couldn't escape without her sisters bearing her punishment. She couldn't escape without her parents tracking her down.
“Muffliato.” - Bella murmured, feeling her magic spread throughout the compartment and encasing her in a protective bubble.
The buzz was helpful— white noise always was. Her thoughts settled.
Fuck it.
Bella knows she is strong. She knows her sisters are strong. She knows her cousins— her baby brothers, really— are as well. They'll survive. They'll make sure of it.
She learned how to Apparate since she was ten. She knows the ins and outs of both Domestic and International Wizarding Law as Heiress. She knows the towns and cities where the Black Family seasonal properties were located like the back of her hand. She'll get out, she'll survive.
Her seventeenth birthday was in three days. Bellatrix can survive three days.
Just three days until her freedom.
Making up her mind, she gathered herself, and determinedly strides through the train halls with purpose.
‘Ah. There they are.’
Narcissa, Andromeda and Regulus’ compartments are relatively close to each other, since they were all within the Slytherin cars of the train. Sirius’ was a bit further down in the Gryffindor section, but it's nothing too bad.
Passing by slow enough for them to catch a glimpse of her, Bellatrix doesn't stop, doesn't look. Anything can and will be used against them, when the adults cast Legimens.
Instead, she sent out tickling charms— warm, small and innocent. They will understand what it means, in due time. She savored their abrupt laughs and giggles, wishing that for once, the world could be a bit kinder.
Walking into the train’s loo, she charmed her robes yellow, familiar Slytherin insignia turning into a yellow-copper badger. Her hair was straightened and bleached a honey blonde, her face glamoured and dusted in foundation a few shades darker. Her eyes are now a deep blue, and a dusting of freckles ensured that no one would bat an eye at the very much ‘muggleborn’ witch.
‘If anyone asks, I am Dahlia Williams.’ - Adjusting her trunk, which she shrunken ten minutes ago, Bellatrix shifted her legs and hunched her form, - ‘I'm shy, pretty damn friendless, meek, and my favorite thing in the world are fantasy adventure novels. Clever and quirky, if a bit spineless.’
Quietly, she made her way into one of the emptier carriages, earning her a friendly nod from the two girls already inside. ‘Dahlia’ smiled shyly, nodding back, before sitting and reading a book she nicked from a passing Ravenclaw.
As the train rolled to a stop, she stood. Standing at the farthest side of the Hufflepuff cars, Bellatrix waited. Her parents would be expecting her outside the Slytherin cars, at the end of the train, not at the start with all the Floofs.
The doors opened, and she didn't hesitate. Bellatrix moved, and when the crowd condensed, she disappeared with the tiniest ‘crack’.
Back on the platform, Druella Black screamed.
—
“Reg? You okay?”
Everyone looked at their resident Earthbender in worry.
Barty and Evan were glued to Regulus’ sides, seemingly the only thing that kept him from falling on the floor. Severus was taking out his emergency stash of pain potions, sorting through them with urgency— while Pandora already had a sizable clump of water on her hands, gently working through the bruises that she could see. Lily and Dorcas could do nothing but look on worriedly, keeping their eyes and ears peeled for threats and blocking the little window on the compartment door.
They were right to be concerned. Regulus was always larger than life, a ball of energy buzzing around everywhere with boisterous laughs and sarcastic whips. He was mean in a good way, and was like an aggressively affectionate cat to those who knew him.
Now, he looked like a half-dead corpse, hands in a death-grip on his anxiously swirling Cosmergy gold and barely chewing the custard buns Lily brought despite being clearly starved. The fact that he never responded to their questions was telling of his mental state.
Within the first few days of being reunited, the old Gaang knew their best friend was being abused. It was obvious to Barty, what with the Jerklord being his father for sixteen years when he was Zuko. Evan and Pandora knew Toph, and were getting to know Regulus— they saw the flinches, the bruises, the scars, and they never wanted to know more. Dorcas didn't even need to be told— she was the first one to grab her past-life’s-best-friend on the Express, she could feel Regulus’ fragile bones through his wrist. Lily and Severus came later, but they knew as well.
It was an open secret, how children of pureblood families were treated. None were more deranged and crazy than the Blacks, and so everybody knew.
There were Heirs, then there were the Spares. Heirs were the eldest and the only thing that all the parents cared about; they could be spoiled brats, rebellious angsty teenagers or pretentious rude motherfuckers and nobody would bat an eye. The Spares were kept out of pure necessity; as long as they're alive, even barely, then everything's free game.
And if you're a Squib— then good fucking luck making it over the age of five.
Regulus was a Spare and blind from birth. The fact that he made it to Hogwarts was a miracle in and of itself.
It didn't matter that he was, for all intents and purposes, a Satan-blessed Magical Genius. It didn't matter that he invented over three-hundred-and-twenty-six official spells within the Ministry's registry, and a plethora of decidedly unofficial ones. It didn't matter that he achieved all of this from an Ancestral wand— one that wasn't even his.
If push comes to shove and Orion and Walburga Black have to decide who would be tortured to death under their dark curses for their amusement, Sirius would be the last thing on their minds. Even the House Elves were needed, to some capacity, and they know Walburga was crazy enough that elvish screams she hears on the daily wouldn't be able to satisfy her anger.
No. Regulus would be the first in line.
The thing with Regulus, or Toph, is that he's never quiet. He couldn't stand quiet. There will always be some sort of noise, some talking or humming or tapping. He seems very big, despite being so small— with all of his grand gestures and expressions and general Toph-ness.
That's how you know you've seen the real Toph Beifong. That's how you know you've seen the real Regulus Black.
They are NEVERquiet.
Something is very wrong if you ever see a quiet Regulus Black.
Evan and Pandora remembered the frigidly still porcelain doll that they met, in that fancy dinner table all those years ago. The only thing that that girl shared with the fearsome Blind Bandit was the same set of glimmering milky eyes, and even then, the once-siblings struggled to correlate the two. The mask barely slipped before it was placed back on with practiced ease, not a single emotion seen on her face despite the rage they glimpsed at before.
Regulus’ current mask was even more beautiful than his previous. It was made with the finest craftsmanship, magnificently adorned with all sorts of personable jewels and designs as intricate as a Saint Louis’ Millefiori crystal paperweight. They wouldn't even be surprised if it was plated with gold.
It's easy to get lost in it. Whatever the Blacks intended to happen over Yule, it's clearly done its job. Their best friend is as responsive as a wooden puppet with its strings cut, and he barely even reacted when Severus made him drink a tongue-curling bitter potion.
The cabin was quiet, tense and poised. Pandora’s frustration with the amount of water she kept summoning was palpable— there were too many bruises and cuts, just too many.
A cold draft wafted through the crack on the window. Regulus shivered, and cuddled further into Barty. Evan unceremoniously switched places with Lily, who passed a roll of bandages to their sour-faced healers. Firebenders ran warmer than most, a perk that came in handy in the chillier months.
There wasn't a word exchanged between them for the rest of the ride. Besides the pile of candy they bought when the trolley witch stopped by, they simply settled beside their friend.
That night, surrounded by the warmth of the Room's familiar fire pit, Regulus spoke. Four words that sent chills down their spines.
“A war is coming.”
—
Hogwarts was a reprieve from that shitshow of a Chirstmas.
Narcissa shut herself inside her bed, curtains closed and charmed with all the security spells she knew. She has no doubt she was a mess— her hair felt dry, her eyes were nearly glued shut by the dried up tears, and her arms were spasming and twitching in uncontrolled fits.
She was sixteen. She was just sixteen.
What did she ever do to deserve this?
Bella was gone, after that damning article Skeeter wrote, even if none of that shit was true. Her sister, her rock and shield, the wicked talent to her grace— gone.
Narcissa was getting married. No going around it. To Lucius Malfoy of all people. To think that she would have to bed him…
Mother, Father and the rest of the adults were beside themselves with fury. Curses were casted and nobody was spared. The House Elves, her sister, her cousins— Narcissa even had to shakingly repair one of Regulus’ eyeballs that Aunt Walburga gorged out during her tirade.
Her hands still shook whenever she held her wand. That silver-white iris seared into her mind, her cousin’s anguished screams haunting the background.
Then there were the rest of them. Andie and Sirius were furious, about Skeeter, about Bella, about her engagement, about the adults— nobody knows. But they were mad and everyone knew. With the state of the Manor afterwards, it's a wonder that the Aurors didn't come and blast their doors down.
And Narcissa herself was scared. She's so scared.
Why? Just why?
All she wants to do is graduate and work in an apothecary. Was that too much to ask?
She doesn't want a husband, especially not Lucius Malfoy. She doesn't want to become ‘The Lady of House Black’. She doesn't wantany of this shit.
Curling onto herself even further, Narcissa let go, and heaved the first sobs of many into her pillow.
She didn't leave her bed for four days.
—
Regulus squints at the Gryffindor table, willing himself to focus only on the sounds that came from his brother's direction.
None.
Three certain idiots have been suspiciously quiet for the past two weeks, and Regulus could practically feel the suspicious-ness rolling off of them in waves.
It was deeply unsettling, feeling their irritating heartbeats but never actually hearing them talk. It was like they took a vow of silence for shits and giggles and tried to make it seem like it's not a big deal.
Well, it certainly is, what with three of the largest mouths in the school shutting up for over seven days.
Something is Up with his brother, Potter and Pettigrew. Which is ironic, considering they’re still messing with Potter with their Shakesparean plot play (it is now Act II: Operation: My Best Friend's Brother Is Definitely Up To Something ). Curiously, Lupin was left out of whatever scheme they were pulling this time, only ever shaking his head fondly or muttering the softest “It's really not a big deal.” to the Three Musketeers then receiving glares and vigorous head shakes in return.
Fiddling with his infinite rotation of golden geometric daggers, Regulus twirled it into Toph's band and put it on his arm. Cosmergy was a lifesaver during his practical classes— the intrusive impulsiveness to just blast the classroom apart whenever Regulus felt cranky has significantly decreased. Playing with it helped with the shaking and nerve damage leftover from Yule too.
“Did you find a distraction, Toffee? Can I have it please?” - Evan mumbled, trying and failing to open his eyelids. He looked worse for wear, eyebags even heavier than the one he sported when they were on the run from the Tank Train. Evan didn't get any sleep, tossing and turning all night ever since Regulus muttered those four damning words the night they returned from break.
The rest weren't looking any better.
Dorcas and Lily were snappier than usual, both irritated and scared about their future. Severus’ eyes were bloodshot, nowadays stumbling more than he walked and spent every ounce of his free time locked up in the lab. Barty kept it together with all the training and experience of a royal leader; while to anyone that knows her, Pandora was barely keeping it together with the skin of her teeth.
He couldn't honestly blame them. Regulus felt guilty, telling them what he knows, burdening them with the knowledge of their nightmares becoming true.
There were some nights, when Barty would scream like the world was ending, waking up with his bloody hands curling around dangerously over his left eye. There were some nights, when Evan would shuffle himself silently into a corner, back to the wall and stared listlessly into the distance, with nothing in his gaze at all.
There were some nights, when Pandora would heave wrecking sobs in a fetal position, hands and body shaking as she stared at the blood that wasn't there. There were some nights, when Dorcas would sit quietly, as still as a statue, breaths so shallow it seemed nonexistent and eyes filled with streaming tears.
There were some nights, when Regulus would cry out in frustration, banging on the Earth and imaginary cage around him then wake up to get out, out, OUT. There were some nights, when Lily would tremble, drowning herself in a dead-silent panic attack as the words ‘Mudblood’ and ‘Muggle bitch’ and ‘Bet she let Slughorn fuck her good to have that high of a mark—’ kept stringing along on repeat. There were some nights, when Severus would be in a daze, barricading himself with so many spells and charms that his magic was positively pulsing throughout the night.
There were nights where it was just too much. New terrors pile on top of old ones, and on bad days, it seemed like it would never end.
They weren't blind, they knew a war was coming. They've seen the signs. But to have it confirmed— that was a terrifying thing in and of itself.
So what are we going to do about it?
That was the question that was uttered after Regulus spoke that night. Nobody had an answer.
“I think my brother's Up To Something.” - He told Evan.
Whatever the ‘answer’ is, it's clear that they all need a distraction.
Barty smiled, possibly for the first time in a while, - “Now, why did I hear capital letters in that statement?”
“Because there is.”
Dorcas snorted, pushing her baked beans around with her fork. Severus didn't answer— the boy was busy drooling on the breakfast table with the same amount of dignity Bosco has at a Royal Earth Kingdom Feast. Which is to say, none.
“I'm not kidding, Reg.” - Evan groaned, - “I really need a distraction. At least until I can stomach the fact that another war is at our doorsteps.”
Dorcas and Barty nodded in agreeable silence.
Regulus smiles dimly, understanding, - “You want to activate Code Diversion?”
They blinked. Severus snored.
“You know what, fuck it.” - Dorcas grumbled, - “I need something crazier than the thought of a genocidal noseless freak to focus on. Do your worst, Reggie.”
“Give me… two hours.”
—
In the end, it took ten days. By Wednesday's second period, Regulus had dragged his friends into the Room with a newly solidified project.
Regulus had a theory about the three foolhardy Gryffindors’ sudden silence after reviewing his notes on the Animagi unit for a quiz in McGonagall's class.
There was only one Transfiguration textbook in the Hogwarts Library that specifically details the Animagus transformation process, titled ‘Animalia and Mythika, Kingdoms of Life: A study in the Transformation of Animagus and Mythosors’. It was a giant, stuffy old thing shoved in the dusty back corner of the Library, and there was a faint trace of his brother's magic on one specific page.
It all made sense: their sudden focus, the ongoing month of silence, Lupin's constant dissuasion. The three idiots were trying to become Animagi.
When he told his friends, they looked as if they were having a conniption.
“When I said I needed something crazier than the thought of a genocidal noseless freak to focus on, I didn't mean encouraging us to break the entirety of Magical Britain's Mageia Core Reserve Regulation Laws and the International Statute of Rights of Magical Children, Regulus!” - Dorcas yelled, expression increasingly incredulous as she flipped through his fifty-page academic research report that was somehow approved by the Ministry of Magic five minutes ago, what the hell?!
He indignantly shouted back, handing out copies to the others, - “I never said anything of the sort!”
“Regulus.” - Severus’ voice sounded oddly resigned, eyes glossing over the Outstanding-worthy cover page, - “We all know you too well by now.”
Lily raised a fiery brow, diligently reading through his hard work, - “Did you seriously write a research paper just to tell us your brother, Potter and Pettigrew are attempting to become Animaguses?”
“It was research . It'll be foolish to just put all my hard work to waste.”
“But the format? The seal?” - Evan asked, voice pitched as he flips through the pages of tiny writing with increasingly wider eyes, - “How did you even write? You're blind!”
“Like how I always write all of my other academic reports and assignments. Speech-to-Script quills are surprisingly useful.” - Regulus huffed, - “The Beifong Clan is also renowned as the best mercantile House throughout the Four Nations. I'll drown in a lake full of Inferi before I fail to live up to my name.”
Barty shook his head, - “If only the rest of the school knew what a little weirdo you were. None of them would be scared of you.”
Pandora handed her copy back, red pen clicking in hand, - “Toffee is plenty scary, Bart. Didn't he beat your ass last week?”
Regulus grinned as his fingers leafed through the papers, feeling the large O Pandora circled harshly through the middle. Barty scoffed.
“As much as I appreciate this masterpiece of an essay—” - Lily passed her copy, with a slightly smaller O in the corner, - “—are you expecting us to become Animaguses?”
“No.” - Regulus answered serenely, - “I just expect you all to be a bit more competent than Potter and Pettigrew.”
Everyone looked supremely offended.
“Now,” - As he spoke, Regulus waved his hand, dramatically shoving them another stack of papers, over a hundred pages this time, - “I have detailed the basic transformation process and methods to further accomplish it. I refuse to be unstaged by my idiot of an older brother, Potter and Pettigrew of all people. Refer to my study, please; I have already mapped out the perfect solution. Page nine, if you will.”
As one, they all looked down and flipped to page nine.
“If we use the intelligence those morons sorely lack, and I say that affectionately, we can plan this appropriately. There are weather specific needs to the process. No good starting at a time where a storm is unlikely— which, fortunately for us, we currently are in the midst of the starting storm season. We'll be able to completely skip the first step by using Occlumency— page fifteen, paragraph four, citation three is a case study conducted by the Transfiguration master at Castelobruxo, who insisted that there was a direct link between Animagi and accomplished Occlumens.”
They all nodded along like the good students they are. Lily and Pandora sat down and started taking notes as Regulus continued to lecture.
“Refer to page thirty-eight. The second step of the Animagus transformation is the so-called ‘Month of Silence’, which the three imbeciles will finish in two days. You will have to stick a mandrake leaf in your mouth for thirty-one days, and they have to be plucked fresh— but there is a workaround. So long as they are kept in a stasis pouch, they will not deteriorate and will keep their freshness. The Master at Castelobruxo said she filled her purse with them while she tested different sticking charms on her subjects, and the efficacy of the leaves was not affected. Forty-five, paragraph two, citation one. The taste will be foul, but it will lessen over the next week. Food will be rather bland, and we’d have to avoid acidic dishes such as tomatoes and vinegar altogether. Afterwards, we will chant the incantation on page fifty-three until an electrical storm hits.”
Let it not be said that Regulus Black couldn't give a good freaking lecture. Being previously hailed from the business House throughout the Four Nations, and now born into the modern day equivalent of a tyrannical monarchy; he was very, very good at making deals and giving out drool-inducing business proposals.
This one wasn't any different.
“Page sixty-seven are the instructions and ingredients for the Animagi potion, which we'll begin the early stages for as soon as we're done congregating. There’s no difference between doing it now or later, but it’ll be best to get it ready earlier; and I also added potential substitutes for the list of potion ingredients. Pages eighty through one hundred twenty are the legalization process of becoming registered and the surrounding laws used to regulate, track, control and trace illegal Animagi.
“The next fifty-six pages are international Wizarding laws regarding non-native Animagus species in their wixen-native habitat. The last fifteen pages are referrals to the very few cases of Mythosors— Animagi whose forms are that of a mythical beast, and therefore possess related magical abilities— and the laws surrounding that. Famously known Mythosors in Britain Wizarding history were Merlin Ambrosius, who was a Turul; Morgan le Fay, a Caladrius; and the Four founders— Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin— presented as a Fu Dog, an Ichneumon, the Hræsvelgr and a Lindworm respectively.”
Severus huddled around his copy of the report, critiquing the techniques and scribbling chemical formulas with a red ball point pen. Evan was off to the side, muttering the logistics of Animagi registration and International Transportation Laws with Barty on the off chance one of them turned out to be an extinct animal and got carted off for research. Pandora, Lily and Dorcas are poring over the texts they summoned from the Room to reference the bit about Mythosors.
Regulus allowed them exactly twenty minutes to do whatever mental gymnastics they needed to justify this course of action. Honestly, even if they got stuck in the half-way transformation limbo, there's seriously no harm done. Between the Seven of them, there's more than enough genius to go around. They could figure it out easily.
Panda and Lilypads, for all they're hailed as upstanding students and exemplary members of the Hogwarts disciple body, were probably the most enthusiastic about breaking a good three-quarters of the M.O.M. 's established criminal laws. Evvie and Bartsie are more concerned with actually getting away with the crime, not committing it. It was Sevvy and Dorry Regulus had to gain approval of— no matter how long they've been friends for and how close they were all to each other, no one knew what exactly would set those two off.
‘Verus and Cassie have a strict moral code, it's just that nobody could figure out what the hell it was.
So yes, twenty minutes for them to work out whatever mental gymnastics they needed to go through with this. Regulus simply refused to be upstaged by his brother and his merry band of misfits, and he similarly refuses to be out-beating them without his best friends.
Never admit defeat. Anything they can do, we can do better and in style .
Wordlessly casting a quick modified Tempus (because he couldn't actually see the floating numbers, so yeah), Regulus mentally counted down. As soon as time was up, he clapped loudly, bringing forth attention to the blackboard he summoned minutes prior, personalized schedule for the chants written for each of them in flawless chalk.
“I hereby call forth an Ultimate Decision.” - He said in perfect upper-crust accent, Earthbending himself a podium and a gavel block, - “Those who wish to proceed with the Animagus transformation as proposed, say ‘Aye’.”
“Aye.” - Seven voices chorused.
Regulus continued, - “Those who oppose, say ‘Naye’.”
Silence.
“A unanimous decision to proceed. Meeting adjourned.” - He hits his Cosmergy-made golden gavel, sound vibrating throughout the Room decisively.
They all cheered.
—
Padfoot barked, his fluffy puppy tail wagging uncontrollably. He was very excited, see? See? See?
He did it! Padfoot yipped excitedly, running in circles, behind swaying with how hard his tail was swinging. They did it!
Prongs stumbled behind him, legs wobbling and knees buckling as the fawn tried to stand up. Wormtail— the itsy bitsy baby fur ball— was squeaking nonstop, trying and failing to keep up with Padfoot's speed.
Suddenly, a tantalizing smell reached his nose. It was… familiar.
It was lovely. Padfoot's sure he could live happily ever after off of it alone.
Poking his nose in the air, he sniffed out the scent like a man dying. It was coming from the forest.
Padfoot dove into the trees, mind hyper fixating on that beautiful, magnificent smell. He came to a stop before the Crazy-Tree, whining as he failed to dive under the branches.
That scent… something told him to follow that scent. It needs him. Whatever it is needs Padfoot.
An angry bleat pushed him out of his stupor. Prongs wobbled out of the dense treeline, bleating nonstop, while Wormtail squeaked and squeaked from his place on the fawn's back. Padfoot yipped and whined, running towards them.
Wormtail's soft pup-scent was curled around Prongs’ own underlying fawn-scent; something that Padfoot wasn't sure was there to begin with. Combined with whatever was under the Crazy-Tree's whomping branches, his nose was overflowing with the smell of home.
Pack, family; it said. Though there’s something missing.
A pained screech cut through Padfoot's thoughts, and that familiar scent came with another— blood.
Wormtail squeaked alarmingly, and Prongs’ ears were flicked upwards on high alert.
Padfoot bolted towards the Crazy-Tree again, the fawn and the rat-pup on his tails. He barked, yipped and howled; his pack-mate was in there!
Prongs’ bleats and scent are tinged with distress. Wormtail was anxiously kneading the fawn's neck fur, terrified squeaks filling the lull. The Crazy-Tree didn't stop, and the pained shrieks continued.
Padfoot ducked, twisted and turned— desperately clawing at the roots for something that his Other Side told him to find. The little opening was far too small, and his short, stubby paws couldn't reach towards whatever it was. Padfoot keened, irritated eyes finding Prongs’ and Wormtail's. The rat-pup seemed to understand, and crawled down Prongs’ foreleg to the opening. Prongs, for his part, miraculously didn't trample Wormtail; though the fawn looked a bit spooked when the rat-pup scuttered down his leg.
The fuzzy baby rat darted down the hole, and a few seconds later, the Crazy-Tree stopped.
Without the wild whooshing of its branches, Padfoot can hear the anguished screams even clearer. He sprinted down the tunnel-opening, not even waiting for Prongs and Wormtail as he slammed his body against the locked, metal door.
The scent is close now, very.
Padfoot whined, slamming his body up against the door again and again and again. His pack-mate needs him! Whatever's over there needs him!
Prongs and Wormtail were behind him now, scents distressed and anxious. No! Padfoot needs to get to—
—Moony. His Other Side said softly. His name is Moony.
That's right! Moony! Padfoot needs to get to Moony!
Desperately, he kept scratching the door and throwing himself at the metal separator. Padfoot doesn't stop, he won't stop until he finds Moony.
I'll help. His Other Side told him. Let me just—
Something clicked, and the door stood ajar.
Go. Other Side said again. As soon as you go through, slam it shut.
Padfoot barked, and dashed through the opening, Prongs and Wormtail hot on his tails. As soon as the black puppy, the fawn and the rat-pup were through, they were met with a horrible sight.
Oh Moony… His Other Side sounded pained.
Padfoot keened, darting forward to nudge at the growling lump of fur. His muzzle was overwhelmed with the smell of blood and hurt. The pup yipped softly, carefully licking at Moony's wounds.
The were-pup opened a wary eye, amber irises peaking at the three little animals cautiously. Prongs stumbled forward, nosing him. Wormtail squeaked, burrowing himself into Moony's curling gray furs. Padfoot padded to the door, bodily slamming it closed, like his Other Side told him too.
When he came back, Prongs was already settled comfortably against Moony. Wormtail was between them, kneading at the fawn’s, then the were-pup's furs. Padfoot huffed, curling himself against Moony's other side, and resumed grooming him.
They fell asleep against each other, and woke up at the first rays of dawn, together.
—
They've successfully become illegal Mythosors. Because of course their soul animals just so happen to be mythical beasts.
Now, without anything distracting them besides simple, run-of-the-mill schoolwork and thoughts of the Dark Git— the Seven of them sat down in the Room and talked.
Regulus stared at the sky, arms and legs spread in a star formation on the soft grass. The sun was slowly peeking out of the horizon, the stars blinking curiously and the crescent moon was still shining.
He needed to clear his mind, after their heavy discussion session last night.
It was… sad, to say the least.
(“So.” - Severus spoke, - “What are we going to do?”
It was a surprise that their local slimeball was the one to bring it up. Severus was usually the one with sarcastic snarks and quips, who likes to listen more than he talks, and only ever does so when trading rapid-fire alchemy equations with Pandora, Lily and Evan.
It was a loaded question: What are they going to do? About… everything?
Should they be doing anything? Over half of them are fourteen, and the other three are barely any older. They were kids, they weren't meant to be worrying about shit like this. They were meant to worry over their O.W.L.s and end-of-year examinations. Not a bloody war on racial ‘purity’ and the divine right of kings.
But here they are, doing that anyway.
He couldn't say about the others, but Regulus knows where he stands in this war.
“I don't know about you.” - Regulus answered, - “But I'm not taking this shit standing down.”
He isn't naive enough to think he won't be affected as a Black. With the bullcrap Walburger and Onion Rings kept spewing over the break, with much more vitriol than usual— it was only a matter of time they forced him into Moldy-short's service.
Him, because he’ll dive head first into the Great Lake before he lets Sirius get turned into a fucking child soldier. If he has his way— and Regulus will make sure he does— his brother dearest will be out of the house by the end of June.
His voice was determined, as strong as a boulder, as hard as volcanic rock, - “I'm going to fight.”
Because Regulus was trapped and played with for too many years, in both of his lifetimes. The Blind Bandit was a reprieve from Toph Beifong's porcelain doll act, and she made the decision to break free from it at twelve.
The Perfect Black Child that was Regulus Arcturus needs to be banished since last year. It's high time to get the gears running and strip those maniacs of the very thing they've coveted for their entire existence.
He made his choice.
Toph Beifong ran because she wanted to break free, but she still loves both of her parents with all of her heart. She knows they love her, as overbearing as it was, as their hearts never once skipped a beat when they said those three words.
But Regulus?
He's under no illusion. He's going to hit them where it hurts.)
Regulus turns on his side, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of evening dew on fresh grass. His night robes were damp, the dawn chill cooling his hot skin. He let out a breath, letting his senses drift into nothingness and surrounded himself with the soft rumble of Earth.
(It was said that there are only two sides to a war— the Right one and the Wrong one. The Black and the White.
This shit was much more complicated than that. She lived through a war before, everyone was at fault and the blame game was just a political agenda.
Pandora wasn't deluding herself into believing that Aberforth's brother, their so-called ‘Light’ leader, was a saint. People thought Albus Dumbledore was, because he's the only one publically taking measures against whatever mess Voldy's merry band of closeted furries stirred up.
From the answers Dumbledore gave her mother when the woman was interviewing him (Moma was a journalist), she only learned that how he ran the Order of the Flaming Chicken guaranteed the Shit Eaters an easy win.
We will not stoop to the level of those dishonorable wixens. - He said, - We do not kill, we do not harm, as that is not how the Light works.
Just how delusional was this old goat?
Those ‘dishonorable wixens’ are seasoned killers, people who play with their food before smashing them to bits. This was a war, killing is part of a war, if only in self-defense.
It's killed or be killed— what's a puny Shield Charm going to do against five different wands casting the Killing Curse? Was Dumbledore planning to stun the likes of Carrow and Lestrange then chuck them into Azkaban and hope for the best?
As it turns out, it was his fucking plan.
In the stewing silence, Pandora was staring holes into Regulus’ skull, - “Black or White?”
There was no black or white. They all know that.
“Gray.” - There was no wait, no hesitation— her little brother's voice echoed in the silent Room.
She relaxed, heart rate calming, - “I'm with you.”
Pandora always was, and she always will be.
Regulus smiled.)
The wind picked up, leaves scattering in the first rays of dawn. Early birds were already waking up, chirping and fluttering about their nests for a new day. His mind was blank, still seeped in the memories of the night before.
(“As am I.” - Barty’s voice was pure steel.
The Ministry isn't doing jack shit, Crouch Senior is viewing the entire thing as a huge promotion opportunity, and as a former leader himself— political and otherwise— Barty can recognize the signs.
The government is a fucking mess. They can barely handle bribery and corruption within the Wizengamot and the bullshitery that was the ‘Sacred’ Twenty Eight. No fucking way can they handle a full blown war.
As Firelord with the second-longest reign (that title belongs to Izumi, Agni blesses his lovely daughter), Zuko has seen a lot in his life. He lived through the Hundred Year War, helped end it, befriended two Avatars, met the last Dragon Masters and survived the Harmonic Convergence. There's probably more— like him getting into Spirit-World-related shenanigans and the whole fiasco with Mom and Azula— but that's just off the top of his head.
There was one constant throughout his life once she came in, all confident and snarky: Toph. Even after he burned her precious feet, even after he rejected her hopes of a ‘life changing adventure’ (he made up for it almost every year afterwards), even after she had to put up with him angry-venting almost nonstop for two days into her ears, Toph still stayed.
Unlike Azula, Toph was the most annoying, lovable and Agni-blessed gremlin of a little sister he could've asked for. Toph was Kiyi’s literal idol, the little girl loved spending time with her ‘Big Sissy’.
She was a great wine-aunt to Izumi, and a not-so-great mother to her own children. Zuko tried to help, and Toph really did try to be a good mom; but her issues with parental figures, herself, Kanto and responsibilities in general made it very hard.
Toph was not mother material, everyone knows that; to Lin and Suyin, she was more of an eccentric roommate-guardian-friend combination that just so happened to be raising them. They grew up to be tough girls with scars on their faces and decade-long grudges and anger singing in their veins— but he also knew that they never once believed that Toph doesn't have their corner.
When Lin Beifong blew up, broke down and screamed her feelings hoarse for the world, Toph was there to listen to those painful shrieks. When Suyin went silent, hunched over with guilt and ran away without so much as a goodbye, Toph tracked her down and sent her to her parents. When her daughters were in danger, Toph came.
It wasn't much, and it'll never be enough to soothe over the shit that went down between them, but Toph owns up to her mistakes and holds her head high as she uses it as a stepping stone for her growth. She was one of the pillars of Republic City for a reason. She was one of his pillars for a reason.
No matter how bad her moods got, Toph made sure her girls knew this: that she loved them, even if she's shit at it at times; that she'll always tell them the truth, no sugar-coating or even half-lies; and that she'll listen, or she'll try her damn hardest to. Those are the three rules she never broke, the three cardinal rules that she held herself and everyone around her to: to love who you love, to tell the fucking truth, and to listen, no matter what.
Regulus has these three rules too. That's why Barty doesn't hesitate to rally behind him.
“I'm with you, Reg.” - Barty repeats, for good measure.)
It was peaceful. The calm before the storm, so to speak.
Regulus smiled.
Even in the midst of a war, they'll find a way.
(Evan breathes, eyes searching for the honey-brown pair that he loved a whole lifetime ago.
Suki's fire was unchanging, even years later. Evan knows he loves Suki, he knows he loves Dorcas. Romantic, platonic, or otherwise, they both loved each other.
Neither of them were surprised when they naturally drifted apart as a couple. They've both seen it coming, and know that they've both been having different feelings for one another for a while. Suki was Sokka's partner, the shield to his sword, the skills to his smarts.
It doesn't matter what label their relationship was, Suki is Suki and he loves her. As his girlfriend, as his partner, as his shield-sister. They've been through so much together. A whole war, a new Avatar, a new age— Suki has Sokka's back and Dorcas has his.
She died saving him last time. He died avenging her. That was them— the Sword and the Shield of Team Avatar.
Evan needs to know if this will stay true. Needs to know if he will have to march into another war, but without his uniformed Kyoshi Warrior watching his back.
Dorcas met his gaze head on, and an understanding passed between them. Evan relaxed.
“I'm fighting.” - Dorcas declared, voice as strong as it always was, - “Those Shit Eaters won't know what's coming.”
This was the fearless leader of the Kyoshi Warriors. This was one of the most dangerous women on the planet. This was the strongest warrior Evan has ever met.
Her eyes glinted, and it was terrifying.
He grinned.
“Don't count me out.”)
A muffled sound jolted Regulus out of his thoughts. There was something behind those bushes.
His senses tell him that it was a lump. A lump of something that's alive.
Erratic little heartbeats, too fast to be human, and soft, muffled bleats.
A sheep, probably. Or a goat.
(Lily looked over them all, rage and terror in her fierce green eyes. “Is that even a question?”
She's scared. She's so, so scared.
A war. A war was breaking out, and for what?
Blood purity, apparently. It was such a stupid reason to go kill someone because their great-great-great-great grandfather doesn't have a magic stick to wave around.
Would her family still be alive, after everything blows over? Would Dorcas and Sev, a muggleborn and a half-blood, still be able to see the light of day? Would Regulus, Pandora, Barty and Evan survive, four people would effectively be called blood-traitors and hunted down with no remorse? Would her friends, muggle and not-so-muggle, be safe?
Would she still be breathing, five, ten, fifteen years into the future?
She is scared. Terrified.
But she was angry, too. They did nothing wrong. None of them deserved this.
But they all have to watch their backs, all because of a war caused by decrepit old farts who won’t just DIE already and take their cranky, toxic and outdated arse ways of living with them; and listen to the rallying cry of the new generation who are done letting expired old people tell them how to live.
She was seething. She was livid.
She's angry and terrified and scared and beside herself with resentment that she doesn't know what to feel anymore.
Lily wants it to stop. Can't everyone just be happy and love each other?
Evidently not. Not when those brickheaded fatherfucks wanted this war so bad.
They want to drive her ‘kind’ to extinction? They want to galavant around, spitting on those that only came here out of love, of hope? They want to take advantage of and use people like her— students, children, those that don't know better— to further their prejudices?
Lily would rather be tortured, die and have her innards fed to thestrals than to let that happen.
“I'm fighting.” - It was stated as a fact, as she met the eyes of her friends, her little family, - “They're not getting away with this.”)
Best to ignore it, lest its mother abandons it.
Regulus turns again, closing his eyes as he tilts his face to the dawning sky. The clouds were much more visible now.
A little bleat, louder than before, interrupted his thoughts. It was as if it realized he was there.
‘Don't bother the baby.’ - He told himself, - ‘It'll die later if its mother can't find it.’
Another bleat. Very insistent, slightly louder this time.
Regulus’ eyes twitched.
(Severus smiled.
He was hesitant to speak of this, lest any of them conflicted with each other. But harsh topics like this need to be over and done with, waiting will only make the fraying tensions worse.
Maybe in another life, he would've chosen differently. Maybe he will be even more uncertain than he is now, and would've chosen the wrong side. Maybe he is the one to walk around with a skull and a snake on his inner-left forearm.
But here and now, Severus knows who he will choose, above all else. He knows the people he would die to protect, the people who wouldn't hesitate to give their life to protect him.
In his very bones, Severus knew he made the right choice.
“We're all on the same page then.” - There was no doubt in his voice, - “So, what's next?”
They all looked at each other, then at Regulus.
“What are you looking at me for?” - The blind boy blinked.
Dorcas chuckled, - “Isn't that obvious, Melon Lord? You're our King. So what are we doing?”
“We're going to fuck them up.” - Was the immediate answer, - “We're going to fuck them up so bad that they'd wished they've never been born.”
“And how are we doing that?” - Lily sounds excited. Very excited.
And here she keeps telling him to stop being so petty. Pot, meet Kettle.
Honestly.
Regulus gave them all a wolfish grin, marble-white eyes sparkling like stars, - “We'll pull out all the stops, hold nothing back. Bio warfare, psych warfare, Mission Impossible style gadgets, Fast and Furious type chases, Ocean's Eight sort of heists, all of it. We're striking them down in every single aspect in existence. Legally, mentally, physically, financially, socially, magically, genetically— anything and everything is free game. Who’s with me?”
The unanimous cheers answered that.)
The bleats kept getting increasingly louder, with no end in sight.
He came here to at least get a nap in before having to return to the dungeons by midday to babysit the merchildren, not to be annoyed constantly by one of Hagrid's escaped cattle at the actual break of dawn.
BLEATTTTTT—
“Tui and La both, I'm coming!” - He shrieked, his peaceful bubble bursted.
Regulus didn't walk towards the bush, so much as he stomped like The Komodo Rhino stampede of 98 AG. Translation: if one were to look at the seismogram located just a few mountains West of Hogwarts, it would show a rather impressive reading for a small earthquake with a score of 4.5 on the Richter Scale of Magnitude.
The bleats stuttered off, as if the thing that caused it suddenly realized what it's doing.
Reaching in, Regulus pulled the bush aside, to reveal a baby animal. It was wild, that much was obvious.
Hagrid's sheeps and goats were covered in protective runes from head to toe— courtesy of having an animal-loving gamekeeper as your shepard. The man was half-giant; while they weren't really the brightest in the brain department, their magic was based on strength, power and general toughness. Nothing short of a berserk dragon might get through whatever runes Hagrid scribbled on them, nevermind a simple hunting snare and a bush.
This fawn(?) got itself stuck in some sort of metal bear trap, leg bending the way wrong way and was covered in scratches. The little one was silent, not a good sign for a wild animal.
He sighed, rolling up his sleeves and pulled on his Cosmergy band. Behind the bush was a giant tree, which leaves small room to work with— if Regulus wants to save its leg, he'll need to sever the jaws and pull the little one out. Carefully, he wrapped the golden almost-liquid around the trap's spring eye, skillfully fashioning a band with inner spikes, then painstakingly sawing the rusty trap metal off, bit by bit. After that was done, he moved onto the two jaw eyes, repeating the same motions.
The sun was already a third of its way over the horizon by the time he's done. Regulus wiped his brow, gently reaching under the fawn to lift it out, paying no mind to the sharp prickles and scratches from the thorns on the bush. He wandlessly levitated the jaws of the bear trap, which were still clamped shut around the poor thing's leg. It eased the weight a bit, but he was still cautious as to not further aggravate the fawn's already shattered leg.
Regulus placed it down in the grassy field he was laying on not too long ago, and wiggled some Cosmergy underneath the teeth of the metal jaw. Mentally easing some light pressure on the leg with the golden fluid, Regulu then pried the jaw trap open with his bare hands and threw it to the side. The fawn bleated in pain, and he petted its head in an attempt to calm it down.
It worked, which means Regulus now has an armful of a clingy baby deer to deal with. Focusing on the distinct feel of bone— some weird mix of organic tissue, calcium and phosphorus— Regulus worked intensely, carefully puzzling each shattered piece of splinter together one by one. His Cosmergy served as the perfect binder, welding the miniscule scraps like a kintsugi bowl.
The leg bone was as fixed as can be, so Regulus took out his wand and casted a soft ‘Spirit Oasis’ on the surrounding flesh of the traumatic area. The water that sprouted from his wand twirled around the fawn's leg mischievously, before wrapping itself around the wound like a bandage, then dissipating like smoke after emitting a familiar healing glow. The wound was now closed, pinkish-white skin stretching over the old break.
Regulus huffed at the fawn, which bleated in delight, patting its head once more before turning towards the bush again. Much time has passed, the sun was firmly overhead now.
Regulus Metalbended the rest of the bear trap, breaking it with vicious mockery before crumbling it into tiny pieces. He did the same to the metal jaw he threw aside earlier, and summoned a pouch to store the little rusty metal ores he just made. Regulus could probably purify it with Barty and Lily's help— Dorcas’ birthday was coming up, and she needs a new fighting fan.
A bleat brought him out of his thoughts, the little fawn stumbling on its four legs towards him. Regulus fought back a giggle at the adorable sight. Petting the little one again, he felt two little bumps beside the base of its ears.
“Huh.” - He mumbled, scratching the fur behind its ears at the little bleats of encouragement, - “Aren’t you a bit too small to be growing antlers, little one?”
The fawn was too small to a yearling, so it doesn’t really make sense that its antlers were growing in already.
It bumped its wet nose into his inner wrist, letting out an adorable bleat. Regulus would deny it until he died, but he melted at the sheer cuteness of it all.
Ah fuck it. Here's a baby fawn that's living in the Forbidden Forest. With how close we are to Hogwarts’ energy source, it might be weirder if there wasn't something wrong with its growth rate. That, or its part Goldhorn or something.
A wet tongue darted out and licked his hands, ticklish. Regulus laughed, genuine joy coursing through him as he temporarily forgot last night's memories.
“I'm calling you Bam-bam now.” - He told the baby fawn seriously, - “It's short for Bambi’s Weapon Of Mass Destruction.”
It belated gleefully.
The sun was well above the horizon now, but still, Regulus stayed with his new little friend Bam-bam. They played with each other, dancing and running and just having so much fun that he realized how strung up he has been up until now.
It was… the most fun he's had in a while, with everything going on.
Regulus weaved the dandelion stalks with daisies and other wildflowers, skillfully braiding them into a chain. He knotted both ends together, and placed the crown on Bam-bam's head. He wore a flower crown of his own, made purely out of the yellow dandelions that the fawn were half-chewing on previously (he had a good laugh about that). Bam-bam bleated in delight from where their head was resting on his lap, and Regulus smiled as he stroked the fawn's neck.
Yet all good things came to an end. When the tree's shadowed grounds were getting increasingly smaller as the sun went up, it was time to go.
“I have to go now, Bam-bam.” - He gently kissed his friend's forehead, earning a lick to his neck in return, which made him giggle, - “See you around.”
Regulus carefully stood up, and with a cheery wave, strides towards the castle. The wind picked up, twirling a stray leaf to where the fawn was.
Bam-bam was nowhere to be seen— but instead, a certain boy with skewed glasses, messy black hair and a strange expression took his place.
James Potter stares after the retreating silhouette of Regulus Black, heart too fast and face too hot.
On his head, sat a beautiful flower crown made with dandelions, daisies and wildflowers.
—
“We have an announcement to make.” - Evan said nervously, Barty at his side.
The Room was in full-blown war mode, a giant table-map of Wizarding England spread across the old gym floor. It was their first Unofficial-Official War Meeting, the usual jokes and teases eased away towards a more somber tone.
Pandora looked at her once-blood-brother, gaze curious, - “Well?”
Barty stood beside Evan, a comforting hand placed on the unusually anxious boy's shoulder, - “Ummm… Barty and I are dating.”
A pause.
They all shrugged and nodded their heads.
“What's with the lack of reaction?” - Barty demanded, - “Aren't you guys surprised?”
Dorcas raised a brow, - “Are we? It wasn't like you two shared the same bed since first year or anything.”
“It's definitely not that the two of you mysteriously disappeared between classes then came back visibly disheveled and out of breath.” - Was Severus’ dry reply.
Pandora sounded offended, - “Nor was it like Evan's normally empty bed in Ravenclaw Tower suddenly became wrinkled and covered in suspiciously white substances, right?”
“Please Sugar Queen, you're giving them too much credit.” - Regulus mocked, hands sarcastically waving the notion away, - “It wasn't like they forgot that I can feel them at it when they start devouring each other on the bed next to mine. Silencing charms, Sparky. Was that too much to ask?”
Before Barty could reply, Lily scoffed, - “Don't even try to answer that. The whole student body knew without needing to be told. You two were too busy eating one another's face off to even notice the poor prefects who walked in on you.”
It was very clear from that tone of voice that Lily was one of those poor prefects. They all collectively winced in sympathy.
For their parts, Barty and Evan looked embarrassed, but not ashamed.
Regulus snickered. “Any other hidden relationships we need to know about?”
“I have a crush.” - Pandora blurted, - “On Lovegood.”
She blushed bashfully when they all turned to look at her.
Evan had this aura about him, the very same one that everyone felt when he discovered Aang and Katara's relationship. “Really, sister dearest?”
“What?!” - Pandora glared, - “He's cute all right?!”
Lily tutted, - “Angel Fairy, Panda Lily, the Criminal to my Empire and the Moon to my Sun— I love you with all my heart and nothing's ever going to change that— but Lovegood?”
Pandora was a strawberry at this point, her face was probably as red as Lily's hair. “...he's nice. And kind. And likes mythical animals and has these crazy theories about so many things and he just gets so invested in them and then there's this one time—”
Ah. That would do it. For all Pandora liked to ‘strong girl’ it out, she has a type. And her type just so happened to be crazily superstitious dorks with a bleeding heart and a penchant for marigold robes. Figures.
Everyone laughed.
Severus made a placating motion towards a murderous-looking Pandora, still a bit out of breath, - “While I do have some doubts about your sanity, Pandora, Lovegood isn't the worst person to crush on. Just imagine— in another world, you might've fallen for Lockhart.”
Pandora was horrified. They all laugh even harder.
Dorcas admitted to eyeing a few girls here and there, but Lily knowingly hinted at how often she'd look at one Gryffindor girl in particular, whose name rhymes with Jolene McPinnon. Dorcas then threw the redhead a very sharp smirk, calling her out on her preference for her cocky friend— the female equivalent of Sirius in terms of boldness and dramatics, Mary MacDonald.
Lily, in her mortification, hastily turned the attention on her fall guy, Severus, which resulted in their favorite slimeball admitting to not one, not two, not three but four different people he's been routinely fancying for a while now. Nobody knew who they were, but Pandora had turned it into a bet and now Sev has to warily dodge the most convoluted game of twenty-questions ever.
Severus successfully managed to pawn the vultures' attention off to Regulus, however, like the traitor he was— and now Regulus was the one being grilled on how hot he thought the Prewett twins were, and if he had the chance, which one of them he would end up in bed with.
It was fun, being around them all. For just a moment, they were the fourteen- and fifteen-year-olds that they were, grinning madly at each other's relationship woes and teasing one another about their increasingly strange ‘I fancy so-and-so’ lists.
Their Unofficial-Official War Meeting didn't really yield any results this time, but Regulus wouldn't trade these soft happy moments with anything else.
Because he knew, with a dreaded bon-deep certainty, that everything was going to change very soon. Fleeting rays of joy aren't going to be filtering into his life as often anymore.
Fear and terror will. And Regulus has always hated how his gut was always right.