Falling
What am I now? What am I now?
What if I'm someone I don't want around?
I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling
What if I'm down? What if I'm out?
What if I'm someone you won't talk about?
Late January, 1977
As if in collaboration with Regulus’ return to school, and the fold, Death Eater activity and news of dark magic seem to have risen exponentially. Each day, the Daily Prophet reports new families missing, more lives lost, and increased sightings of the Dark Mark over homes and cities. If it weren’t for the prophecy, Regulus would wonder how it's possible that such activity would coincide so perfectly with his actions. It makes sense though—he’s the missing piece that is catapulting all of this, and hopefully, the end of the war, forward.
Regulus is still hesitant to fully join his housemates in their tirades against the Muggle-born students and their sympathizers. There are multiple reasons for this— decorum’s sake, and of course, the friendship and fondness that he feels for certain Muggleborns as a result of James and Sirius. Lily Evans in particular holds him back. He knows from experience that she’s kind and brilliant and undeserving of the treatment Muggle-borns receive at the hands of the Slytherins, so why not do his best to spare her?
There have been a few instances in which Mulciber, or Flint, or whoever it is he has the great displeasure of spending time with, have spotted Lily on her own. They see her for what she is in those moments—vulnerable and a perfect target. For some reason—a reason Regulus doesn't even fully grasp—he never lets it happen. He redirects their attention or subtly talks them down, his own words laced with disgust and ignorance against people like her. The boys don’t notice, or if they do, they don’t question him. He might not be in Voldemort’s inner circle yet, but his name holds weight still. They’re aware of his connections and the power of being a Black. He might not hold the power they yearn for, but he will soon enough. They all know. It’s been whispered since the beginning of term, and honestly, since he arrived at Hogwarts years ago. Regulus’ path has always been laid out in front of him. It was for Sirius too, before he left.
Lily doesn’t question him either, but he can see it in her eyes. She knows what he’s doing. She’s a smart girl and Regulus’ methods of manipulation and redirection don’t seem to fool her. Her gaze lingers on him in the moments after the others walk away. She knows. He knows she knows. He can only hope she sees it as a personal weakness and not a lack of loyalty to the cause.
Regulus hasn’t dared broach the subject with James. He doesn’t want to know how he’d react—and he doesn’t want to see the betrayal in his eyes as Regulus details for him the way he's culpable in the actions of his “friends” through his inaction. It’s not worth it, talking about it with James. He’s sure he’s aware of it to some degree, the whole school is. James might be Regulus’ idiot, but he’s not stupid, or willfully ignorant. He knows, too.
There are days when Regulus just needs an escape . A place of refuge where he can hide out for a few hours without skepticism or suspicion. The Room of Requirement isn’t always an option, and honestly, sometimes he does need the space from James, with all that’s going on. It’s not James and his company that’s the issue here—no, it’s Regulus himself. He doesn’t seek the refuge in his friends either. Sometimes he just needs to be with a mostly neutral party. Someone who doesn’t know what he’s going up against. Someone who just thinks that Regulus is a normal, pure-blooded boy who keeps his head down. Still quite an irritating presence, but surface level enough that it doesn't ruin his day.
This need for someone like that is what led him to where he is right now: the Potions laboratory with Professor Slughorn.
“Regulus, my boy,” Professor Slughorn chuckles, peering into Regulus’ cauldron. “I must say, I always knew that you were talented, but this…Well, this is just something else entirely.”
Regulus glances at Slughorn, giving him a close-lipped smile. He’s been in here the past week brewing non-stop. Dumbledore has been rather preoccupied recently with all of the dark activity, so he hasn’t had much time to work on training. So, Regulus is taking things into his own hands by getting comfortable in the Potions lab. As of now, he’s brewing an antidote for Veritaserum. He needs to either carry it on him at all times or begin slowly dosing himself with Veritaserum to build immunity to it. He won't let himself get into a situation like the one that got him out of Grimmauld Place.
Unfortunately, Veritaserum is not only difficult to get your hands on, it’s extremely difficult to brew. Not just because of the advanced level of the brewing process, but because it’s a controlled substance under Ministry provision. He won’t be able to brew it at school under Slughorn’s eye, although the old man is so desperate to have Regulus under his wing that he’d likely let him. It’s not worth the risk though, so Regulus is sticking with the antidote. He’ll start brewing when he’s back in the potions lab at Grimmauld, or just buy it and dose himself that way, if it’s necessary. He hasn’t decided yet.
“Thank you, Professor,” Regulus murmurs, dropping an ingredient into his cauldron and carefully stirring.
“What are you considering pursuing after school, hm, Regulus? Perhaps earn a Mastery in Potions?”
Regulus does his best not to stiffen as he continues stirring his potion. Surely, Slughorn is aware of the war that’s currently waging and the Black family ties to it. Surely, he’s not daft enough to assume that even if that was what Regulus wanted to do, he’d be able to do it.
“I’m not sure yet, Sir,” Regulus responds politely. “My parents would like me to pursue politics, so perhaps that. I still have some time to decide, I’d say.”
“Right you are, my boy,” Slughorn chuckled. “Say, do you plan on attending the Slug Club meeting in February? You’re invited, of course, as are many of your housemates. It should be quite marvelous, really. It’s taking place on the 14th—Valentine’s Day, of course.”
Regulus takes a moment to consider this proposition. It sounds dreadful, honestly, but he might as well. As annoying as Slughorn can be at times, he does have quite a few connections. He could prove himself quite useful in the future, so it’s best that Regulus stays close. Also, if the other Slytherins are going his absence will be noticed, so it’s not like he has much of a choice.
“I wouldn’t miss it, Professor,” Regulus musters up after a beat of silence. He flashes Slughorn his best smile and Slughorn gives him one right back, beaming at him.
After finishing the initial stages of brewing, Regulus packed up his bag and made his way down to lunch. It’s the weekend, so the halls are sluggish with only a few students milling about. Hogwarts has fully settled into winter, leaving the stone halls to radiate a slight chill despite warming charms. On days like this, most students prefer to stick to the dorms. Regulus doesn’t blame them, he’d do the same if he particularly enjoyed the dungeons.
He needs to eat anyway and lunch is the place to do that. So, he wanders into the Great Hall, intent on at least trying to enjoy his Saturday afternoon. He’d usually try to meet up with James, but he has Quidditch practice later and plans with the Marauders before that, so Regulus’ companion for the day is a book. A book and meal. Perfect, right?
All things considered, Regulus is having a pretty good day. He got out of the dorm early enough to avoid Mulciber and the rest of them, and brewing was actually quite pleasant. So, when he sits down at the table, he’s fully prepared to continue enjoying his Saturday, and he does. At first at least.
He gets a few sips of tea in. A couple bites of chicken. A chapter of his book. That’s what Regulus gets before his pleasant Saturday afternoon comes crashing down.
Landing in front of him is a stately eagle owl with dark feathers and large, golden eyes. He knows that owl. Recognizes it immediately.
“Hesperus,” Regulus breathes out, the hair on the back of his neck rising. This is a Black family owl. He used to be Sirius’, actually, before he left. “What do you have for me?”
Hesperus puffs out his chest and offers Regulus his ankle. Tied to it is a black envelope, sealed with the Black family seal. A letter from his mother. Or his father, he supposes, but somehow he knows it’s his mother.
Carefully, Regulus unties the letter and feeds the owl a bit of his meal. Glancing around the table, only to find it largely empty, he opens the letter to find a familiar loop of handwriting.
Regulus,
I hope you are well at Hogwarts. I have heard rather promising things from the parents of your peers following your recent return. Your father and I are very pleased.
I’m writing to inform you that you have been requested for a task. It’s vital for you to comprehend that it is a great honor for you to be asked to participate. The request comes from none other than the Dark Lord himself. He wishes for you to partake in a raid early next month—the date will be relayed soon. Many of your housemates have been, or will be, invited as well. This includes Evan Rosier. He and his family are excellent allies to hold near as your future begins.
You will participate. This is an excellent opportunity for you to showcase your loyalty not only to the cause, but our family. We expect great things from you, Regulus, and we know that you will achieve them. Please respond to this letter in no more than one day’s time. I anxiously await your confirmation of participation.
Your mother,
Walburga Black
Regulus casts his eyes down, refraining from letting out a deep sigh. He folds the letter carefully as he considers the options before him. The watch burns in his pocket. He doesn’t bother checking. He knows what needs to be done.
—
“Hey, Pads,” Remus says, nudging Sirius with his elbow.
“Hm?” Sirius asks absentmindedly as he fills up his plate. “What’s up?”
“Have you spoken to Regulus recently? He doesn’t look too good.”
That catches Sirius’ attention immediately, his head snapping up from the sandwiches on the dining table to across the room where the Slytherins sit. He searches their house table, zeroing in on his brother within seconds. He inhales a sharp intake of breath at the sight of him.
When Sirius sees Regulus from across the Great Hall, he's taken aback by how little of him he recognizes. The Regulus he's known for the past six months has been lighter, happier, and more open. The Regulus he sees today is darkened by the weight of what he carries. Winter has fallen over Hogwarts and it seems to have taken Sirius' little brother with it.
Sirius hasn't seen much of Regulus since the beginning of term. It’s been difficult, especially with the whispers about him around the school and the Gryffindor house in particular, but part of Sirius thought it might be easier this way. The last time he really had a moment alone with Regulus was when James was injured on the last full moon. He was stressed then, but he looked the same as usual. The change in his outward demeanor is clearly affecting his appearance. Anyone who cared enough to pay attention would be able to see that something is wrong. He looks…sickly. Smaller under his robes and sharper around the eyes and cheekbones. There's a heaviness to his rigid posture and a blankness to his eyes that Sirius hasn’t seen for a long time.
Regulus looks up, seemingly feeling Sirius’ gaze on him. When the two make eye contact, Sirius swears he sees… something flicker in his brother’s blank eyes. But as soon as he notices it and tries to make sense of it, it’s gone and Regulus is rising from the Slytherin table. In a moment of naivety, Sirius believes Regulus is going to approach him. Maybe ask for some help, or confide in him, like he used to.
There’s no place for that now. Sirius knows that. So he’s not sure why his stomach sinks when Regulus makes a beeline for the exit of the Great Hall instead of the Gryffindor table.
“So have you?” Remus questions again, his voice quiet.
“Have I what?” Sirius asks, his eyes still on Regulus’ retreating form.
“Spoken to Regulus,” Remus raises his eyebrows. “Have any clue what’s going on there?”
“Erm,” Sirius hesitates. “No, not really. Not for a bit. I haven’t been able to get him alone somewhere private. And it’s not like he seeks me out.”
Remus hums, pushing his peas around his plate. “Maybe you should try.”
“Yeah. Yeah, maybe.”
They fall into a mutual silence then. The noise of the dining hall still rings out around them, making Sirius feel very isolated. He’s not the only person in the school with problems and secrets—not by a long shot, but sometimes it feels like he must have it worse than anyone else. Sirius does his best to avoid dwelling on his circumstances, but sometimes he can’t help but feel that he’s been dealt a rather shitty card.
Before long, others begin filing in for lunch. First Pete and James, who chatter happily at the table. Remus carries much of that conversation, but Sirius does his best to participate. He even tries harder than usual to be kinder to Pete, as per James’ delicate scolding. He knows he can be unfair to Wormtail and he doesn’t always know why he does it. Peter is a good friend and he’s never done anything to betray him. In fact, if any of the Marauders have betrayed another, it would be Sirius.
Not long after James and Peter arrive, the girls sit down. Mary, Lily, and Marlene often travel in a pack. On the weekends, it’s hard to find one without the other. It’s nice in a way, seeing them all together like that. Sometimes Sirius thinks that if they were just a tad bit more mischievous they’d be like a girl version of the Marauders, minus one. Maybe they are, even without the mischief.
“Are you four invited to the February Slug Club Valentine's party?” Lily asks, pulling Sirius out of his thoughts. She looks between them, her green eyes bright.
“I’m not,” Peter says, glumly. “I got invited once first year and never again.”
“I am,” James replies, shooting Pete an apologetic glance. “Sirius, Remus?”
Remus and Sirius nod. “Why?”
“I was just curious if you’d be going,” Lily explains. “I’d like to go, but always prefer when others in the house attend. Marlene is going, but Mary wasn’t invited. So, I wanted to get a headcount of sorts from everyone.”
“Personally,” Sirius begins, tossing his hair over his shoulder. “I’d prefer to sit this one. Stand in solidarity with ‘ol Petey boy, y’know?”
“You should be doing it in solidarity with all the Muggle-borns in the school,” Mary grumbles. “Slughorn barely invites any of us, even if we are talented. Plus, all those Slytherins he invites—I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s a sympathizer of You-Know-Who himself.”
“He invites so many Slytherins because he’s their head of house,” Lily snaps back. It’s clear that the two of them have had this conversation before. “It’s not surprising that he would favor them. McGonagall does the same with us, as do Flitwick and Sprout. Besides, it’s not as if all Slytherins are bad. Stereotyping them is just as bad as them doing it to us.”
“Oh, that’s rich, Lily,” Mary scoffs, shaking her head. “Just because you get special treatment from him doesn’t mean he’s a good person. Not all of us are so lucky.”
“That’s not fair,” Lily starts before Mary cuts her off.
“No,” Mary shakes her head again. “You know what’s not fair? That we Muggleborns can’t trust anyone . Even Regulus, who I thought was all right, is out flouncing around the hallways looking down on us and letting his friends curse us. You know what, what’s the deal with that, anyway? Hm, Sirius?”
“Mary,” Marlene says, warningly. Again, Sirius recognizes, this is a conversation that’s been had amongst the girls already.
“Don’t, Marlene,” Mary snaps, turning to look at her. She looks back to Lily, her curls bouncing angrily with her. “Another example of Lily getting special treatment, I’ve noticed. You never seem to get the end of their wands when Regulus is around, do you? Are you shagging him or something? Keen on a mini-Death Eater so you won’t get harassed? Well, guess what, Lily? When we leave here, none of that will matter. You’ll end up just like them.” Mary’s hand comes down on the table, pointing to the cover of The Daily Prophet which reads
“MUGGLEBORN COUPLE FOUND DEAD IN VILLAGE OUTSIDE GLASGOW”
“That’s enough, Mary,” James murmurs, eyes glued to the newspaper.
Mary laughs, meanly. “Let me guess, you’re ready to defend Regulus too, aren’t you? Pretty typical of you, considering you’re a pureblood as well. You have no clue what it’s like.”
“Leave Regulus out of this,” Sirius finally says. His hands are shaking under the table. “He’s not done anything to you, has he?”
“He hasn’t no, but he’s watched as his friends do things. Unless Lily is around, of course. Which again begs the question.” Mary narrows her eyes at Lily. “Are you two shagging? How is it you have his protection?”
“No!” Lily cries, her pale skin flushed. “No, Mary, and you know that! You’re being—mean.”
“Hard not to be,” Mary replies, pursing her lips. She begins to rise from the table. “I’m done with this conversation anyway. Come find me when you’ve returned to reality. Marls?”
Marlene glances at Lily and squeezes her hand before following Mary. Quietly, she whispers. “I’m sorry, Lils.”
The two girls leave the table and the five left are quiet. After a few beats of silence, Peter speaks.
“She has a point, you know,” Peter murmurs.
“About what, Wormtail?” James asks.
Peter glances at Sirius nervously before looking back to James. “I know you two might not like to hear it, but…things are different. Not just outside, but in here too. Regulus is—he’s changing too. I’ve seen it myself. I’m not sure why, or what it means, but it’s true. He doesn’t exactly participate, but I’ve seen him with his friends while they’re cursing and taunting first years.”
“What’s your point, Peter?” Sirius questions, his heart hammering in his chest. He feels like he might be sick at the table, actually.
“I just—” Peter hesitates. “Doesn’t it worry you? How we’ve aligned ourselves and how things seem to be going? Aren’t any of you scared?”
“Of course we’re scared,” Lily responds, her voice shaking slightly. “But there’s nothing that can be done. It’s not as if we’re going to re-align ourselves with Death Eaters. Even if someone like me wanted to, we don’t have that luxury.” She pauses. “It’s not like I’d want to either. No one in this school is a Death Eater anyway. We just have to keep hoping that things end up okay and do what we can to help. We won’t leave school until next year. The war could be completely different by then.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Peter nods. He tilts his head at Lily. “I know you’re not shagging him, but do you have any idea why Regulus treats you differently?”
Lily flushes again, hesitating. She looks at James, her brows knitted together. “No, I have no idea. I don’t even know if it’s really him treating me differently or just a coincidence. He has no reason to treat me differently if he’s truly changed his mind about everything.”
“Has he?” Peter asks, looking at Sirius now. “Changed his mind about everything?”
“I don’t know,” Sirius lies, swallowing hard. “I haven’t spoken to him in a while.”
“Have you?” Peter questions, looking at James and Remus. “James, you must have spoken to him during Prefect rounds, yeah? What has he said?”
“Erm,” James runs a hand through his hair. “No. No, I haven’t. We aren’t partners for rounds anymore, actually.”
“What?” Lily says, turning to James sharply. “Why not?”
James looks down. “He requested a change, I think. Not sure.”
Sirius knows James is lying. He knows why and exactly what happened, he just can’t tell anyone. Part of him thinks Lily could be trusted with all of it, but he knows they can’t tell her. It’s not their place. He does wonder why Regulus chooses to protect her. If he’s being honest, he would’ve thought that Regulus would take some of his frustrations out on her, considering James’ previous infatuation.
“I see,” Lily murmurs, chewing her lip.
“It’s probably nothing,” Remus adds, quickly. “Maybe the rounds just didn’t work well with his schedule anymore.”
“Or he doesn’t want to be associated with James anymore,” Peter points out. “It would make sense, all things considered.”
“Yeah,” Lily trails off, thinking. “Listen, I know you three aren’t sure about Slug Club, but can you think about coming? With everything going on, I’d prefer if I had some friends there. I can’t not go—Slughorn expects me to be there. He doesn’t understand how things are, I don’t think.”
“Yeah, Lily, of course, we’ll be there,” Sirius tells her, earnestly. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”
Lily smiles at him sadly. “Thank you, Sirius.”
Under the table, Remus takes Sirius’ shaking hand in his own. This is more difficult than Sirius anticipated, but he told Regulus he’d love him through it, and he will.
He will. He always will.
—
It’s alarming how much James has changed this year. He used to feel totally at peace at school. Sure, there were some people he’d rather avoid, like Snape, but otherwise, he was completely happy here. He had the Marauders, his…crush on Lily, and of course, Quidditch.
He has two of those three things still, and Regulus, of course, but it’s all different. The Marauders are all under different stressors. Remus has the moons and the new wolf. Sirius has Regulus and his parents in the background of everything. Peter has the pressure of his family and his fears about the future. They’ve hardly even had time for pranks this year with everything going on. They’ve talked about making up for the pranks and coming back strong, but again, it’s just not the same. It doesn’t feel as fun anymore, knowing they would just be messing around when people are quite literally dying on a daily basis outside of the castle walls.
There’s Quidditch still, but even that feels different. With Sirius off the team, James has felt slightly off his kilter all year. As things get worse with the war and Regulus gets further away, it's gotten even worse. Tensions are rising and not even his team is immune to them.
“James, what the hell is wrong with you today?” Alice shouts from across the pitch. It’s been a terrible practice and James knows it. The weather is awful—sleet and heavy winds, and James’ playing is subpar at best. The calls he’s making are too slow, and not anywhere near strategic enough to beat Ravenclaw in the upcoming match.
James sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Listen, we’ve been out here for almost two hours. Let’s just call it.”
Without waiting for any of the team’s response, James flies down to the ground. He dismounts, swinging his broom over his shoulder, and begins his retreat to the locker rooms. After today’s conversation at lunch, he’s fucking exhausted. There’s no denying Regulus’ involvement with the other Slytherin’s at this point and it’s awful to listen to people point out what he looks like—a blood supremacist and bigot. Not to mention Mary accusing Lily of shagging Regulus.
He understands Mary’s frustrations the best he can. He’s aware he doesn’t get the same treatment that the Muggle-borns doing, seeing as he’s a Pureblood. In the end, the Slytherins and other Death Eater sympathizers would want nothing more than for him to join them. As a result, he doesn’t get it too bad. He knows that. He just doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do about it. He tries his best to break up attacks when he sees them. He’s always clear about where he stands and how he feels about the war. I mean, for fuck’s sake, he was very publically in love with Lily Evans for four years. It’s clear that James doesn’t have an issue with Muggle-borns.
As soon as that thought passes through James’ head he grimaces, realizing that Snape also felt that way about Lily for years, and look how he ended up. Either way, whether James fancied Lily or not, he’s outspoken against Voldemort and his followers. It’s just his natural instinct to defend Regulus that’s bringing him down. Making him look like a hypocrite.
Suddenly, James is met with a harsh shove on his back. He stumbles, nearly falling into the muddy grass. He turns to find Alice, her face contorted with annoyance and her hands on her hips.
“What the fuck was that for?’ James questions, angrily.
“What the fuck is all this for?” Alice throws back, waving her hands around her. “That was a piss poor practice and you know it. What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing is wrong with me, Prewett,” James snaps. “If you have an issue, talk to me, don’t push me around.”
“I’ve been trying to talk to you!” Alice cries. “You’re never around. You’re not focused. Whenever I ask after you, you’re off doing something or on Prefect rounds with Regulus Black! Do you even care about the team?”
“Of course I bloody care about the team!” James sputters. “What are you on about?”
Alice shakes her head, looking away. “I know something’s going on with you. I really hope you’re not getting involved in something you shouldn’t be, James.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” James questions, angrily.
Alice looks at him for a moment. She crosses her arms. “Like I said, you’re absent. Always off doing Merlin knows what or in Prefect rounds with Regulus Black. I know you’re close with him and look at him—who he hangs around. What is it you spend all your time doing these days?”
“What I do is none of your business,” James growls, stepping closer to her. He didn’t miss the way she spoke Regulus’ name with pure vitriol. “And don’t mention Regulus Black around me if you’re going to say shit like this. Fucking ridiculous.”
“Woah, woah,” Frank shouts, jogging toward the two of them. Marlene is on his heels. “What’s going on, guys? Everybody’s fine, yeah?”
“Ask your bloody girlfriend, Longbottom,” James spits, pointing at Alice. “She shoved me and is accusing me of—” James hesitates. “What exactly is it that you’re accusing me of, Prewett? Spending time with Slytherins? Being a blood supremacist?”
“Alice,” Frank hisses. “What did you say to him?”
Alice looks at Frank, her face lined with anger. “I told him exactly what I told you! He’s not focused, he’s playing like shit, and no one knows what it is he runs off and does in the evenings aside from Prefect rounds with Regulus Black!”
“Alice—”
“She has a point,” Marlene interjects, her face pained. “James— you’ve been off ever since you came back this term. We’ve all noticed. We know you’re close to Regulus, I mean I saw how much time you two spent together at the New Year’s Party. With how he’s acting and you all over the place, it’s—”
“Oh, and you aren’t close to any Slytherins are you, McKinnon?” James interrupts. “You’ve sworn them all off, have you? You don’t speak to any of Regulus’ friends?”
Marlene physically recoils, as if James slapped her instead of asking a few questions. “James—”
“Don’t turn this onto Marlene. This is about you,” Alice snaps before her voice softens. “What is going on with you? Just answer us and we’ll stop asking you. Just—James, please. We’re worried about you.”
“For the last time, nothing is going on with me,” James tells her, firmly. “Regulus isn’t even my partner for Prefect rounds anymore, okay? I hardly see him. I’m busy. I have just as much of a right to worry about the war and the future as anyone else here. I’m sorry if that means my Quidditch skills aren’t up to your standards. Now, if you’ll excuse me, practice is over.”
James turns immediately, quickly walking to the locker room. He doesn’t miss the way none of them follow him or call out for him. He knows he shouldn't have said that to Marlene, but he was just so—so angry. His heart pounds his chest, a wave of nausea passing over him as he goes over the conversation in his head. He’s not lying to them about Regulus or what he's been up to. Not exactly.
The thing is, James knows that if he was in their position he’d feel the same thing. Honestly, he'd probably ask the same questions, even if Alice’s strategy isn’t how he’d go about it.
Once he gets into the locker room, he tears his kit off and rushes under the showerhead. He stands under the freezing water. If he ignores how hot his tears are, he can pretend like the drops falling down his cheeks are from the stream of the shower and not his eyes.
—
Dumbledore carefully places the parchment down on his desk. He takes off his half-moon glasses, meeting Regulus’ eyes.
“How do you plan on responding?” Dumbledore asks.
Regulus swallows, sitting up straighter. “I plan on telling her that I will participate.”
Dumbledore is quiet a moment, surveying Regulus. Eventually, he nods. “Yes. Yes, I believe that is the right thing to do. I will bring Alastor back in for your dueling training. You’re quite proficient at the moment, but it’s best if you continue training before something like this. It will be dangerous.”
Regulus nods. He knows.
“You won’t have a mask,” Dumbledore comments. He folds his hands on his desk. “Voldemort’s Death Eaters have masks for the purpose of concealment. Are you capable of casting a disillusionment charm?”
“Yes,” Regulus says. “I can cast one without issue.”
Dumbledore nods again. “Keep practicing it as you lead up to this. You need to be prepared to conceal yourself should Aurors arrive.”
Regulus surprisingly hadn’t considered that—the fact that this is illegal and he could face actual consequences for it. “Yes, sir.”
“I was curious to see if your parents would initiate contact before the end of term,” Dumbledore admits, picking up the letter from Walburga. “This letter, as well as the invitation, shows that they are more than willing to welcome you home. I assumed as much, based on Phineas’ information, but I wanted it to be confirmed. I believe you should offer to return home for the Easter holidays when you respond.”
Regulus came into this meeting with Occlumency shields in place and they’re holding. Without hesitation, he nods. “Yes, sir.”
Dumbledore looks at him again. Vaguely, Regulus registers a headache beginning. Dumbledore looks away and the pain subsides. “Very well, Regulus. You may go. You’ll receive word from me soon.”
“Yes, sir.”
Confidently, steadily, Regulus makes his way to the Owlery.