➣ 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝟑 “𝙈𝙖𝙙-𝙀𝙮𝙚 𝙈𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙮”
⋆｡°✩°｡⋆
“So, are you going to talk about what happened between you and Dorian, or are we just going to keep pretending it never happened?” asked Nicolás as they stepped outside the greenhouse.
Herbology had just ended; they had studied the Bouncing bulb, and honestly, even if he won house points, the absolute highlight of the class was seeing one of those plants bouncing from Fred's to George's head, back and forth — even Professor Sprout had laughed at how ridiculous they looked; of course, she still took house points from the because of the class distraction.
At his side, Caelum groaned. “Why do you keep asking? Nothing happened, really.”
It was ridiculous. Ever since their disastrous squabble, back in the Hogwarts Express, Caelum and Dorian had been acting… strangely. Everyone could notice as much. They tried to pretend everything was just as normal, and that there was nothing to talk over, that their relationship was just as good. They tried to act the same way as before, but everyone could feel the eggshells they seemed to walk on around each other.
The sixth-year Hufflepuffs shared Herbology with the Gryffindors, so Nicolás had spent the entire class trying to get out of Caelum what had happened the class before — as the Gryffindors shared Charms with the Slytherins — but apparently ‘nothing happened’, ‘everything is just fine’, and ‘Nico, you’re being excruciating with the matter, I beg of you to just drop it.’
And well, maybe he was being a tad unbearable over it, but even so, he had the right to be it, right? These were his cousin slash bother from another mother slash soulmate and one of his best friends, if there was something rupturing their friendship just because they were both too hardheaded — which they both were —, then he needed to know if he could help.
Like him and Cedric the other night. Nicolás trusted that he had gotten his point across: Cedric really shouldn’t submit his name for the Triwizard Tournament. They had argued, Nicolás discovered new things about Cedric, and they snogged after; it had been a very productive night in his mind.
But of course not, Caelum was just as impetuous as Uncle Sirius, and equally stubborn as a mule; Dorian was a pureblood far too proud who would rather bite his own hand off than show any kind of vulnerability in their conversation.
Clearly, Nicolás was left in the middle, stranded and lost; not sure which was to take, who to talk to, who to prod. Looking around in their free time, seeing the awkwardness clinging to their friend group, he felt like a sailor who had no option but to see how the holes in his ship finally filled it with seawater, before pulling it to the bottom of the sea. Helpless and useless.
Hell, even Amelia, who disliked emotional conversations as much as Dorian, had tried to talk it out of him and failed; her sister, Lilith, had been far more direct, but Dorian still found ways to escape his fellow Slytherins with ease.
Nicolás considered getting the Weasley twins to talk, but he didn't really see much effectiveness in that; Ruby had tried, but Caelum was quick to run off.
Caelum squeezed Nicolás’ shoulder and smiled; very forcibly, if he may add. “We’re just fine, okay? You’ll see,” and without waiting, he strode up the stairs to the Gryffindor Common Room.
With a sigh, Nicolás followed Cedric down the basement and into the Hufflepuff Common Room so they could shower before their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class of the term. That should prove interesting, it was their first official meeting of Professor Moody, and they shared it with the Slytherins, maybe Nicolás could get something — anything — out of Dorian.
They showered quickly, grabbed their bags, and walked to class.
When they arrived, the classroom was almost empty — it was fifteen minutes before the class started —, but Dorian and a few other Slytherins were already there.
“Sit with Alec, I need to talk to Dorian,” Nicolás muttered to Cedric, earning a frown as he walked towards Dorian and sat at his side.
Dorian looked warily up to him when he took the chair and sighed.
“Hello there, pal, haven’t seen you much these days,” Nicolás greeted.
“You know there’s a reason for that, Nico,” said Dorian jadedly.
“Well, if either of you took the stick off your arse and talked, we could probably solve it,” said Nicolás irritatedly with a forced smile.
“Is not that easy,” Dorian shook his head with the slightest hint of a smile. The room started to quickly fill with students.
“Try me,” said Nicolás, almost pleadingly. All this tension in their group had him on edge.
“You’re stepping out of line,” said Dorian, with a warning undertone that Nicolás could very easily detect. It was Dorian’s nicest way of telling him to back the fuck off before he snapped at him.
Nicolás sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Why can’t you and Caelum just —” his words were cut when the door was reopened with a bang, and the clunking of Moody’s wooden leg led the professor into the room.
As he strode to the front, he looked at Dorian’s book, already opened on his desk. “You can put those away,” he growled, stomping over to his desk and sitting down, “those books. You won’t need them.”
That really should’ve been Nicolás’ first alarm going off, but the class didn’t really get any better from then on.
Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of grizzled gray hair out of his twisted and scarred face, and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swiveled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered.
“Right then,” he said, when the last person had declared themselves present, “I’ve had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class,” he looked at Nicolás carefully, before continuing, “seems like you’ve had a particularly brilliant instruction in how to tackle most Dark creatures thanks to his class. Boggarts, Red Caps, Hinkypunks, Grindylows, Kappas, Werewolves, Vampires, Banshees, Lethinfolds, and Inferus, is that right?”
There was a general murmur of assent.
“But you’re behind — very behind — on dealing with curses,” said Moody. “So I’m here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I’ve got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I’m supposed to teach you counter-curses and leave it at that. I’m not supposed to show you what illegal Dark Curses look like until you’re in the seventh year. No matter how close, you’re not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore’s got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you’re up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourselves against something you’ve never seen? A wizard who’s about to put an illegal curse on you isn’t going to tell you what he’s about to do. He’s not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful.”
Okay, hold on, wait a damned minute. Show them? Because in Nicolás’ mind, and first-hand knowledge of the Ministry thanks to his family, only three curses were considered illegal, and there was absolutely no reason for them to experience/be shown of those. Dumbledore had definitely lost the plot with this class.
“So... do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?”
“The Unforgivable Curses,” said Nicolás automatically. Moody’s both eyes, normal and magical, were on him.
“Carolina Cardona and Professor Lupin’s son, eh?” he said. “You must know all about these curses. Gave the Ministry its hardest time during the war.”
As he looked around the room with the normal one, his magical eye stayed fixed on Nicolás. “Anyone can name one of them?”
A Slytherin guy, William Selwyn, a few rows behind them raised his hand, and said, “The Imperius Curse,” with a self-satisfied smile. Moody looked at him for a moment, before smiling too.
Moody opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scuttling around inside it. He reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in the palm of his hand so that they could all see it. He then pointed his wand at it and muttered, “Imperio!”
Such was the way the Imperius Curse worked. There was no flashy beam of light, no sound, the incantation could be muttered in the softest of voices.
The spider leapt from Moody’s hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backward and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a back flip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance.
Every Slytherin — except for Dorian, Amelia, and Lilith —, was laughing. The Hufflepuffs looked uncomfortable — most of them had been old enough to hear tales of the war —, and Nicolás felt the family crest of his necklace, enchanted by himself to detect and protect him from Dark Magic, burning close to his chest.
“Think it’s funny, do you?” Moody growled. “You’d like it, would you, if I did it to you?”
The laughter died away almost instantly. “Total control,” said Moody quietly as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over, making Nicolás’ gut twist. “I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats...”
“Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse,” said Moody “Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will.
“The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I’ll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone’s got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” he barked, and everyone jumped.
Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar.
“Anyone else knows one? Another illegal curse?”
“The Cruciatus Curse,” said Dorian through gritted teeth, without even waiting to be given permission.
Moody’s both eyes focused on Dorian more intently than they had done on Nicolás just a few minutes before. There was… there was something in his eye when he looked at Dorian; maybe he tried to put it on like resentment, given he was an Auror, but there was almost a kind of sparkling in his eyes at the prospect of Dorian’s family.
“Your name was Lestrange, wasn’t it?” he said menacingly. “Your family must know all about this one.”
Dorian’s face soured. There was nothing he hated more than being associated with the Death Eaters in his family, who, much to his doom, were probably amongst the most infamous ones. His parents had died in the war, killed by Voldemort himself after taking down a large group of Death Eaters, but of course, people remembered Dorian's last name because of his deranged relatives who drove the Longbottoms to madness.
After considering Dorian for another tense minute, with the gleam in his eyes increasing, Moody made no further comment, he turned back to his desk and reached into his jar for the next spider.
“The Cruciatus Curse,” said Moody. “Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea,” he said, pointing his wand at the spider. “Engorgio!”
The spider swelled. It was now larger than a tarantula. Moody raised his wand again, pointed it at the spider, and muttered, “Crucio!” again, no color nor sound that could warn the use of it; the only thing Nicolás felt was the slight tingle, similar to a that of electricity, lingering in the air, but he doubted anyone else was feeling such thing. His necklace warmed once more.
At once, the spider’s legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it, but Nicolás could feel its pain. Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently.
At his side, Dorian had a white-knuckle grip on the sides of his desk, his face and eyes hardened at the sight; Nicolás had to close his eyes for a moment and take deep breaths until he couldn’t it any longer.
“Stop it!” Nicolás yelled angrily.
Moody raised his wand and looked at Nicolás, the faintest and quickly covered trace of satisfaction in his eye. The spider’s legs relaxed, but it continued to twitch. “Reducio,” he muttered, and the spider shrank back to its proper size. He put it back into the jar.
“Pain,” said Moody softly. “You don’t need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse... That one was very popular once too… right... anyone knows the last one?” but his eyes were trained on Nicolás.
“The Killing Curse,” Nicolás said through clenched teeth, his nails already carving into the flesh of his palms.
All the Hufflepuffs looked at him uneasily, some slightly shaking. The Slytherins seemed more excited than anyone else.
“Ah,” said Moody, another slight smile twisting his lopsided mouth. “Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra... the Killing Curse.”
He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade Moody’s fingers, but he trapped it, and placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface. Moody raised his wand, and Nicolás felt the coldness of the curse take over the room before it was sent, and his necklace was now starting to burn his skin.
“Avada Kedavra!” Moody roared with a chilling easiness.
Breathless, Nicolás closed his eyes before the blinding green light took over the room. There were loud cries, gasps, and exclamations of ‘Merlin’.
“Not nice,” Moody said calmly, almost... satisfied with the result. “Not pleasant. And there’s no counter-curse. There’s no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it…” he looked at Nicolás; probably knowing of his family's association with Harry; well, 'association' was kind of vague when his Little One made part of his family, legally and all.
“Avada Kedavra’s a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it — you could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words, and I doubt I’d get so much as a nosebleed. But that doesn’t matter. I’m not here to teach you how to do it.
“Now, if there’s no countercurse, why am I showing you? Because you’ve got to know. You’ve got to appreciate what the worst is. You don’t want to find yourself in a situation where you’re facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” he roared, and the whole class jumped again.
“Now… the use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn you a one-way ticket straight to Azkaban. That’s what you’re up against. That’s what I’ve got to teach you to fight. You need to be prepared. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practice constant, never-ceasing vigilance. Get out your quills... copy this down...”
They spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on each of the Unforgivable Curses. No one spoke until the bell rang — but when Moody had dismissed them and they had left the classroom, a torrent of talk burst forth.
Nicolás' stomach churned as he heard how the Slytherins talked of the Unforgivables with nothing but excitement, and almost a note of admiration. Nicolás had been only three years old when the war ended, but his parents never sugarcoated for him or Caelum how it had been to be alive back then, how it was to go out and actually fight the Death Eaters who fired Unforgivables as easily as greetings.
It was a whole another thing to watch as someone cast them inside of a classroom, so detachedly, so coldly, so... in the practice of them.
There was something deeply wrong with Moody, and something in Nicolás knew it was beyond his trauma as an Auror or his retirement… he just felt… wrong.
Or maybe he was just touchy about that heinous display of Dark Magic and simply needed to take a break from it. There was also the fact that Cedric seemed to be more pensive any time he was around Nicolás, but he supposed it was because of their discussion about the Triwizard Tournament; but Cedric promised he wouldn’t, so…
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
He looked down. The lines of darkness engraved on his skin danced mockingly, throwing back in his face his failures. It was disgusting. A chill slid down his spine, and every hair in his arms rose as he looked outside the windowpane. The Hippogriff herd flew along the blue skies, bathed by the scorching Colombian sun. They played, not a single worry in the world getting through their plumage.
It was at times like these, when his ghosts accosted him, that he wished his life was like that; carefree, if he could only let go of his rock, but he was no better than Sisyphus had been in Hades.
What gnawed at him the most? He had once, so long ago, had just that. Times when his only worry was to use his childish mumbling to convince Kreacher to sneak cookies for him and Sirius when their parents forbade them from food.
A cold laugh reverberated in his mind. 'How dare you?' it said, 'how dare you ask and hope for anything as if you deserved it?' it was very similar to his mother's vitriolic voice. 'Ungrateful boy,' said his father's distant and cold voice.
And they were right, weren't they? People like him, traitors, deserved nothing but the worst. Even if he had his reasons to do so, he had betrayed his friends when he joined the Dark Lord's side, then he deceived him and played double agent, only to end up betrayed by the very man who got him in that mess; a man he himself had betrayed too. Good riddance.
All to end up with him committing the ultimate betrayal on the Dark Lord and stealing his Horcrux, at the cost of his own life. And now he was back here, breathing air, and existing in a world that considered him to be dead.
His second chance at life; a life he didn't see the point in living, a life he was unworthy of being bestowed with.
For he was poison ivy; he was the antithesis of King Midas. Everything he touched was condemned to get sick with sadness and despair; a poison so profound, not even him, like all the other snakes do, could save himself from it.
It had happened to Sirius. Stubborn young Sirius, who had grown to delude himself into thinking he could change Regulus' fate. Brave Sirius, who had had, as a Gryffindor, enough courage to run away when he could; even if he never knew how that came to happen, and Regulus wouldn't tell him yet.
It had happened to Carolina, María, and Remus. His friends, who had thought they could dissuade him from what he already knew to be inescapable.
And it had happened to sweet James, who had brought so many new emotions to his life. Patient James, who had been naive enough to think the power of love was sufficient to change the world. Overly good James who had hoped he could change Regulus' fate, not knowing how the Fates had already cut his string back in the night he was born.
All of that which he ever dreamt about, all of that which he, at his core, desired, all had been there for him to take. All dancing right in the palm of his hand; not knowing how much decay Regulus' presence brought, all too naively good and deserving of a far better fate.
With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes, incapable of preventing his treacherous brain from taking him back to his past.
Warm lips were on his. Their moves were slow and calm. It wasn't a passionate steamy kiss, nor was it a battle for dominance. It was a tame contact, slow and reassuring; it was a kiss of acknowledgment, a meeting of not only the flesh, but the very essence that controlled it.
Slowly, their lips parted ways — not without a small bite on his lower lip —, and it was inevitable for their noses not to nuzzle together. Strong arms sneaked around his waist, pulling him closer until there was no such thing as space in between.
They lay on a bed — one that had red and golden covers —, and Quidditch posters all around, provided by the Come and Go Room.
He leaned back, looking down, right into his favorite hazel pools through those round, thick spectacles that were a bit crooked to the side.
That was his favorite mop of black hair — similar to a bird nest rather than human hair —, framing his favorite face in the entire world; a face of bronze skin, small freckles too shy to show much, a soft nose, and the most tantalizing lips Regulus had ever encountered, red as they were at the moment, they gifted him with a lascivious smirk.
James Potter looked down at him with a fire that would give prude Professor McGonagall a heart attack.
It had been a year before — in his fourth year — that Regulus had stumbled upon the Come and Go Room for the first time. He was walking down the seventh floor of the castle, in great need of a very specific book. Great was his surprise when, out of nowhere, one of the hall walls shifted on its own, morphing into a door. On the other side, Regulus found a library, larger than the school one, and in its center, a book lay open, perfectly placed on a marble lectern. It was the very book he needed!
Everyone looked at him like he was crazy when he asked about such library; even Madam Pince, the school librarian. Nobody, no student and no professor knew about it. Regulus went to the extreme of taking James' map — the one he had created with Remus, Sirius, and Pettigrew —, but no, the library wasn't either in there.
Of course, what surprised Regulus even more was when he took Carolina and María to check the seventh floor and there was no door. That was, until Carolina said, in a voice that would make Lily Evans very proud, "We still need to find a place to study for our exams!" and boom, the wall shifted and the door reappeared. When they entered, there was no library, it was a classroom, one with everything they needed to study, including dummies.
The room was magical, and it shifted, transforming itself into whatever it was that the person outside really needed.
Right now, it was James' turn to decide the setting. It was a replica of his room back home. It was very... Gryffindor, really. Everything that wasn't on dark wood tones, was either scarlet red or golden; the only thing missing were lion stickers or figurines. James Potter was, without a single doubt, the most Gryffindor-ish Gryffindor Regulus had ever met, loyal, courageous, unbearable, and all that good shit.
So, over the scarlet red covers, they laid. James' long legs twisted around Regulus', as his arms refused to leave his waist.
This had started by the end of the last year. There had always been a certain pull in between them, one both of them tried to fight off; because telling you best mate 'Hey, I kind of like your baby brother' wouldn't have ended better than telling your big brother 'Hey, I kind of like your best mate'.
Naturally, after Regulus, in a pretty uncharacteristic whim, tackled James in the Quidditch showers after everyone was out and kissed him, they started to make out in secret.
It was fine. Nobody knew, and Regulus would like to keep it that way, thank you very much. He really didn't need to hear his mother trashing James and his family any more—especially considering how desperate his father was to get Mr. Cardona to sign betrothal contracts for both Sirius and Regulus with his daughters; something the man, in Regulus' eyes, and much to his relief, wasn't going to ever budge.
This, here, amongst the tranquility of the Come and Go Room, was their sanctuary, their hideout in plain sight. They were right inside Hogwarts, and nobody would ever dare dream of finding them.
"What preoccupies your pretty little head?" asked James, cupping Regulus' cheek.
"Herbology," said Regulus.
"How can old Sprout capture your thoughts more than I do?" said James, visibly offended.
"Because right now, you're delaying me from attending her class."
"And what's wrong with that?" asked James with mocking innocence.
With a smirk, Regulus started to disentangle James' limbs from his body to get up.
"Bloody hell, there's no way I'll be able to walk down seven floors and into the greenhouse in less than fifteen," he said, searching for his bag.
James merely rested his body on his elbows, watching him very entertained. He even had the audacity to laugh at him, as if this wasn't his fault.
“Oh, well, your perfectly punctual attendance streak will be ruined, won't it?” he said, not a trace of shame in his voice.
Regulus groaned, grabbing his bag. “And it’ll be your fault, Potter.”
“Oh, Reggie, pleaseee, don’t gooo,” James whined in a childish manner that would give Moaning Myrtle a run for her ghostly money.
With a smile on his face, Regulus gave James a loud peck on the lips, before crossing the room, escaping James’ Seeker grip thanks to his own Seeker reflexes.
“I’ll see you in the Astronomy Tower at midnight; don’t forget to bring that map,” he pointed at the Marauder’s Map on the couch and walked off, leaving a pouting James in the room.
As he strode down the flights of stairs, he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. It felt like a typhoon in his stomach; it was as though a storm of creatures — whose kind he could only guess — were having a party in there. It was something chaotic and magical, exhilarating and enlivening, contradicting and unifying.
If that was how being in love felt, Regulus could start to comprehend why humanity had made such a deal out of it across its story; why so many poets had devoted their entire lives trying to put it into words, or why wars had been fought in its name.
For the longest time he had tried to comprehend how Carolina and María felt, but only now was he able to grasp the depth of such feelings. He had, perhaps for the time, understood how Carolina felt towards Remus, and how María felt — surprisingly — towards Sirius.
He stepped through the door and into the blinding daylight.
"Reg, dear," someone called from behind him. He opened his eyes to find Angela Cardona looking at him with worry written on her face. A teacup in her hand. "Everything okay?"
Regulus took his tea and looked away, "Yes, just... you know... the past."
"Ah, sneaky awful thing, it is. Always desperate for our attention," she said, taking the seat in front of him and surveying the Reserve grounds through the window. "If you bother with my advice, be careful, dear. Too much attention to and dwelling on the past will turn you nostalgic and stagnant. It will trap you just like that crystal did in that cave. It matters little how well your body has healed, if you cannot come to peace with your melancholy."
“It’s hard not to do it… when so much happened…”
She took one of his scarred hands into her soft ones. "I won't pretend to understand what you went through, my boy, or to know what haunts you each time you close your eyes, but I can assure you that here, right now, you have a family. No matter how bad it was, you won't be able to change what happened, the past is gone, but you can make your own decisions here and now.
"There's no father or mother to tell you what to do. You no longer are the heir of the House of Black; there's no family name for you to uphold. Sirius had a son, let him worry about that name."
He could still remember how revolting it was when Dumbledore called him 'his' boy, how his skin seemed to heat in rage, but to hear it from Mrs. Cardona?
He remembered Sirius cursing life and any deity in existence for not giving him a mother like her. And he understood it, here, with her calling him her boy, Regulus too wished he had had a mother like her; Carolina and María had been — and were — lucky beyond their understanding.
Even their father, Pedro, was just wishful thinking for them. Each time they took the Hogwarts Express — either to or from Hogwarts —, and once they were confined to Grimmauld Place, Sirius would spend hours upon hours cursing his luck for having been born into their family and not one like the Cardonas or the Potters.
Back then, the Cardonas were a wealthy family, a foreign one, who had traveled from their country to work with the British Ministry. They quickly gained popularity among all types of families, pureblooded, half-bloods, muggle-borns, everyone wanted a piece of them back then; even more when Pedro's influence climbed to a new high, being offered the post of Minister for Magic.
Thing was, no matter how powerful their family was, or how, in their place, other families placed so much importance on presentation, the Cardonas treated each other with only genuine love. Pedro was fiercely protective over his daughters, not even their father, Orion Black, could pressure him into anything. Years had been of Orion trying to dissuade and persuade Pedro into signing betrothal contracts for both his daughters to marry Sirius and Regulus. But Pedro had enough power and love within himself to put his daughters first, before anything; no other pureblood family would have rejected such an offer, the opportunity of belonging to the House of Black.
There were few people Sirius hated more than their parents, and Regulus understood that feeling.
"You know, for so long, it was only my Pedro and I," said Angela, "then, our daughters, the light of our lives came, but even then, there was always this... this something missing, you know. It's a stupid thought right now, but back then, we wanted a son — not for stupid societal conventions for inheritance or the like —, but after the twins we tried, and it never happened.
"We decided to leave it at that, only for years later did Remus, Sirius, and James become our babies' friends, and enter our lives, and we were so happy with them. They were so young, so vivacious, so full of potential. Potential you may think you've lost."
With gentle hands, she moved the arm of Regulus' shirt up, revealing his forearm. Without fear, without disgust, she traced the faint traces of the Dark Mark on his skin.
"But you haven't," she continued. "You, Reg, were the first friend my daughters made at Hogwarts."
“I think that was Remus,” Regulus retorted, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. Angela smiled.
“It doesn’t really matter. Reg, you are as much a son to us as Remus and Sirius are, as much as James and Lily were when they were with us.”
Regulus shook his head, his throat feeling tight. “They are part of your family, I am not.”
“Sirius and Remus may have married my daughters, but they were our boys long before that,” she said. “Just as you were our boy too.”
Feeling his eyes stinging, Regulus shook his head once more. “You shouldn’t speak for your husband; I don’t think he would —” but he was interrupted by a new voice.
“I quite like it when my wife speaks for me, Reg. Over the years I’ve found nobody else could do it quite as accurately, sometimes not even me,” said Pedro Cardona stepping into the room. He took off his jacket and left it on the hanger.
He reached their table and kissed his wife hello, he squeezed Regulus’ shoulder and sat.
"We may not have boys of our own, but we were blessed to have all of you enter our lives," he said, squeezing Regulus' forearm. He too, showed no sign of fear, or disgust at the Dark Mark etched in his skin; he was able to see beyond the horrors it had caused, because he wasn't looking at it, he was looking at Regulus, at his stormy grey eyes. "And it matters little what's happened before, we know much more now, much more of what you did, Reg, of what you sacrificed. Our hearts were broken in sorrow when we thought you had died, but here you are, here, with us, and that, Reg, makes us happy."
“There’s so much you don’t know,” said Regulus desperately and miserable as the first tear trailed down his cheek.
“And I trust you will let us know when you see it fit,” Pedro reassured.
“We lost James and Lily already, and we’ve lost you once, Reg,” said Angela, her own eyes misty. “Don’t make us lose you again.”
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
"Perhaps I should help Fred and George," Caelum thought out loud.
Raising his eyes from his Herbology book, Nicolás looked at his cousin. "They told me they didn't need help with the Potions assignment. What on earth could they need your help with?"
"Ideas to trick Dumbledore's impartial judge for the tournament," said Caelum, taking a bite of his very hidden cupcake — Madam Pince kicking them out of the library wouldn't help their homework.
“A fool’s errand,” Dorian said dismissively, not looking up from his book. Caelum sent him the nasty look.
"Why would you even want to participate in such thing?" asked Amelia, not raising her eyes from her Potions book.
"Why wouldn't you?" said Caelum, looking around very excited.
“Because we like our heads where they are?” said Aurora.
“Because we value our lives?” said Amara.
"I couldn't care any less for that thing," said Lilith, passing the page of the comic book in her hand; one she borrowed from Caelum. Next to her, Willow was eyeing it too, very captured by whatever Superman issue they read.
"He's kind of hot, is he not?" giggled Willow, covering her mouth.
"Willow, that's Clark Kent, aka Superman, he was made to be hot," said Nicolás with a smirk. "Hunky type of hot, I'd say." Cedric frowned at him from his Transfigurations book but offered no comment.
"I'd say Nightwing's hotter," said Caelum. "Thank God they got rid of that awful mullet, makes him even hotter."
“Well, not as much as her,” said Lilith, showing Nicolás the comic page.
“Ah, Wonder Woman, totally,” Nicolás nodded.
They continued to discuss their favorite superheroes before someone hurried towards them.
“Hermione, they’re talking,” someone whispered aggressively. It was Ron, Nicolás recognized.
“I need to tell him!” whispered Hermione equally aggressively.
Everyone had peeked up at the sound, and Nicolás turned on his chair to see Hermione walking quickly towards him, followed by Harry and Ron, who tried to stop her.
“Hello, kiddos,” Nicolás greeted. “Something wrong?”
“Nico, can I speak with you?” said Hermione, blushing as everyone looked at them.
Nicolás looked around before nodding. He got up and turned to Cedric. Frowning, Cedric spoke first, “You go, I’ll bring your things.”
Confused by his attitude, Nicolás nodded and guided Hermione, Harry, and Ron outside the library.
“So, what’s up?” he asked.
Harry and Ron gave Hermione a look Nicolás read as 'Don't speak,' but Hermione spoke all the same. "I'm founding a school society."
“Hmm, okay... and how’s it called?”
“She named it spew,” said Ron hastily, earning a nasty look from Hermione.
“It’s not spew, Ronald! It’s S-P-E-W, and it stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare,” said Hermione proudly. “You love magical creatures more than anyone else, you must understand why this is important.”
Nicolás thought for a moment. It was true that house elves lacked a lot in the rights department, especially here in the UK. Back in Colombia, during her course in the Ministry, his mother — with Abu Pedro's help, Deputy Minister for Magic at the time — had passed down bills to create special divisions for the protection of House Elves, Werewolves, Vampires, and many others. But here? In her two years as head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, barely any change had been approved. For some reason, in many aspects, the British Wizarding World seemed to be stuck in medieval times.
“Sounds good,” he said, earning disbelieving looks from Harry and Ron. “What are your first goals?”
“Our short-term aims are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions. Our long-term aims include changing the law about non-wand use and trying to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because they’re shockingly underrepresented.”
“Woah, cowgirl, stop right there,” said Nicolás with a soft chuckle. “Those goals are very… noble, if not overly naïve. But let me clarify some stuff about house elves to you.
“First of all, yes, house elves were enslaved and are considered slaves, at least by British standards, but you need to understand they were bred to behave like that, not unlike some dog breeds were genetically selected to be loyal to humans and satisfy their desires. It's a part of their very nature," Hermione opened her mouth, but Nicolás silenced her with his hand.
“Yes, I know of cases, as uncommon as they are, like Dobby, who wanted to be free, you need to understand freedom is not an insignificant thing, it carries many responsibilities and burdens, forcing it upon them will make them go crazy in their freedom.
"Now, I do agree and support the notion of largely better working conditions for them; really, what they are offered in this country is shameful, but I'll tell you this, not all of them require wages."
"What do you mean?! Everyone requires money!" argued Hermione.
"Money is a human creation, Hermione, house elves can have great working conditions, just look at my family's elves. They love to work, they get to rest as much as they desire, and all of their needs are satisfied by my family. They don't have to worry with human money. Alongside clothes, to be given money is of great offense to most elves."
"It's true!" said Harry. "Whisker, Fizzlet, and Twinkly always eat at the table with us! Kreacher and Winky do it sometimes too!"
“Wait, b-but your family’s house elves use clothes!” Hermione argued.
“Clothes that were never given to them, Hermione, you should’ve asked before coming to conclusions.
“Whisker, Fizzlet, and Twinkly were rescued by the house elf division my mother created in the Colombian Ministry. They were forcibly taken from their household because they were abused horribly. Now, I convinced my Abus not to give them clothes, but fabrics, and Abu Angela taught them how to make their own clothes with that, and they liked it.”
“But then —”
“Now, house elves don’t need wands, Hermione.”
“That doesn’t mean they don’t deserve them!”
"This is not about deserving for the sake of it. House elves wield their own brand of unique magic, Hermione. They use Wandless Magic as very few prodigious wizards can," Nicolás explained patiently.
“But we could let them —”
"Hermione, I think it's most honorable that you consider this to be something for you to shoulder, but there's much that you don't know. Books will never be the same as actually knowing and interacting with house elves. You can't simply storm up to people and creatures with beliefs that are so ingrained in their brains. Disruption is not always the way towards change, especially because house elves are not asking for it. It'll be like fighting against the current, and unless you're a salmon, it's not going to be very productive."
Hermione crossed her arms and pouted, her eyes cast down in disappointment. “Then you won’t support me.”
Nicolás sighed. “It's not as simple as that. Follow me,” he said, and he strode down the hallways and towards the entrance to the basement.
“Where are you taking us?” asked Harry.
“Has any of you ever been to the kitchens?” asked Nicolás. The three youngsters shook their heads. They walked past the hidden entrance to the Hufflepuff Common Room and stopped in front of the large painting of a colorful bowl of fruits.
Nicolás moved and tickled the green pear. The fruit let out a giggle and transformed into a door handle. Nicolás grabbed it and opened the door, revealing the warm kitchens to them.
“What –!”
“Merlin!”
“Welcome to the Hogwarts kitchens, kiddos!” he said with a large smile. In front of them, over a hundred elves were working hard. Suddenly, a small group of elves stormed towards them, laughing excitedly.
“Mr. Cardona!” “Mr. Nicolás!” “Friend Nicolás!” came from Snickety, Quizzle, and Tumbletoe, Nicolás’ favorite house elves from the kitchens.
Being a Hufflepuff, the kitchens were very close to his common room, and he never wasted the chance to come and have a quick snack and chat with them. He had befriended them two years ago when he arrived at Hogwarts. They would chat animatedly with him, and send him away with his hands and pockets filled with food; they were also the ones who provided him with food for movie night.
Nicolás crouched on the floor so he could hug each of his much smaller friends, “Snickety, Quizzle, Tumbletoe, buddies, how have you been?”
“Elves!” shrieked someone from the front of the kitchens. Looking there, Nicolás saw a particularly fat house elf, Pitts, the supervisor of the kitchens. He got quickly annoyed every time the house elves stopped working, and right now, most of them were looking excitedly at Nicolás and his friends; of course, with Pitt's bark, most of them jumped and went back to work.
“Please forgive us, Pitts!” Nicolás called out. “I promise we won’t distract your little pals for long.”
“They no pals of Pitts, Nicolás Cardona, they worker elves!” Pitts dismissed, focusing on his work. It may seem rude to most, but in elvish culture, to be considered a worker was a compliment.
“Harry Potter, sir! Harry Potter!” came a high-pitched scream.
The next second, Harry was thrown to the floor, a house elf holding tight to his middle.
“D-Dobby?” Harry gasped.
“It is Dobby, sir, it is!” squealed the elf. “Dobby has been hoping and hoping to see Harry Potter, sir, and Harry Potter has come to see him, sir!”
“Dobby, what’re you doing here?” Harry said in amazement.
“Dobby has come to work at Hogwarts, sir!” Dobby squealed excitedly. “Professor Dumbledore gave Dobby a job, sir!”
In only seconds, and almost like a blur of small limbs, Snickety, Quizzle, Tumbletoe, and Dobby prepared a table for them and brought snacks and drinks for them. Hemione looked at the food uncomfortably, but Harry, Ron, and Nicolás ate with gusto.
“Does Mr. Nicolás want something else?” asked a small voice behind him. Nicolás looked at the house elf with a smile.
“No, Fippa, why don’t you go and rest for a while? I’m sure Lottie and Tibble would be up for a game of Exploding Snap.”
“Fippa is going to prepare Mr. Nicolás some apple pie with Snorpy and Dolli, sir, Mr. Nicolás can take it to eat with his boyfriend,” the little elf bowed and moved to her work with little jumps.
“You know them all?” asked Harry amazed.
Nicolás chuckled and ruffled Harry's hair. "They're far too many to know, Little One, but I do know most of them."
“Do you make them cook for you all the time?” demanded Hermione. Nicolás decided to ignore her hostile undertone, knowing it was merely because of how fervent her desire was for the betterment of house elves' conditions.
“Cooking is all they do here, Hermione. That and cleaning. I think you can very much understand they wanted to cook that for me, as much as they like to cook for practically anyone who comes and shows them any kindness.”
“It doesn’t mean you should let them!”
Nicolás chuckled. "And what do you expect me to do, Hermione? Use Incarcerous so she wouldn't cook that pie?"
"I-I don't know, I —"
"Tell me, Hermione, what books have you read on house elves?"
"I — I read about them on Hogwarts, A History," she said, blushing.
"Hermione, that book won't tell you anything," said Nicolás. "I know what you think of them, I saw how you reacted to Mr. Crouch freeing Winky, but you also saw how my family reacted.
"My grandfather took Winky in, any of us would've done the same. She's having a very hard time readjusting to a free life that came against her wishes. That book will tell you how many elves are here, nothing more than that.
"You already have your own preconceived judgments, and they blind your reasoning, they make you see the world in a black-and-white light, but the world is made of shades of grey.
"If you want to do something about the conditions of the elves, you need to stop thinking like a human. You need to see what the elves think first," Nicolás concluded.
He stood up from his chair, and brought four small stools, urging Snickety, Quizzle, Tumbletoe, and Dobby to sit with them. At first, the elves refused earnestly, but a little prodding from Nicolás was enough to have them join the table and take some of the food. Hermione looked amazed and speechless.
"So, little buddies, there's something my friend Hermione here and I wanted to talk with you," said Nicolás, and he and Hermione started to explain S.P.E.W. to the house elves.
They were enraptured in their tale, but Nicolás noticed how Snickety, Quizzle, and Tumbletoe winced at many of the goals Hermione had in mind for her society, even choking a few times on their food. Dobby looked very excited and waited until they finished to scream "Dobby likes free elves, sir!" very excitedly.
“Elves without purpose,” Tumbletoe shook his head.
"But you could do whatever you want!" said Hermione.
"Tumbletoe likes to work at Hogwarts, miss," said the elf.
“Snickety don’t like clothes, sir,” said Snickety with a frown.
"You could wear whatever you want!" Hermione insisted, but Snickety wasn't having any of it.
"No clothes for Snickety, miss!"
"Okay, okay, guys, let's all take a deep breath, yes?" said Nicolás, calmly gesturing with his hands.
"Please forgive Snickety, Mr. Nicolás, sir," said the elf timidly.
"All elves not wanting that, sir," said Tumbletoe. "Elves like... elves like to work, they do!"
Hermione looked demoralized at them. This was exactly what Nicolás tried to warn her about. Elves, as they were right now, weren't going to want someone fighting for rights they themselves didn't want.
Dooby told them how he negotiated his salary of one weekly galleon with Dumbledore and what he was buying with it. Alongside Dobby, very few elves demanded to be paid; Quizzle was also one of those.
Thinking this had been enough for Hermione, Nicolás prompted them to leave the kitchens; not before Fippa handed him the apple pie she made for him and Cedric. Nicolás thanked all his elven friends and closed the door. Hermione looked very down and didn't even want to talk.
"Now, Hermione, look at me," said Nicolás. Hermione raised her eyes at him. "I didn't bring you here to crush your aspirations. I told you, I think you have very noble yet naive aims for S.P.E.W. And you are very blinded by your own perceptions and judgments. If you're going to help the house elves, you need to remember this is not about you, but about them.
"I assume you're aware of the muggle women who fight for their rights? Feminists, I think they're called."
Hermione looked surprised about the question but quickly nodded.
"You, as a muggle-born, I assume understand much more than I do, but it is to my limited understanding because women didn't have the same rights as men in the muggle world. They were raised and expected to be little more than incubator machines to produce babies and satisfy men.
"Until a few decades ago, they couldn't study, they couldn't work, they couldn't open bank accounts, they couldn't even say 'no' to men.
"Now, thanks to the feminist fight, women demanded and were given those rights. But I think the most important right they were given was that of choice. There are women who desired much more than the traditional family life, who desire to work and make a career for themselves, and that's fantastic! But there are also women who simply don't desire that, who simply wish to find the right man, marry, and have children to raise.
"Hermione, it is not your place to decide which of them has more worthy dreams than the other, because both are equally worthy. And that's the feminist fight. Not to make it so women never marry or give birth again, but to make it so they do it simply because they want to, and have the right to."
Hermione opened her mouth a few times, but she was probably still letting all of that sink in. Nicolás smiled at her.
"Whisker!" Nicolás called out.
A few seconds later, the space cracked next to them, and Whisker materialized.
"Mr. Nicolás, sir! What can Whisker do for you?" asked the elf.
"Thank you, Whisker," Nicolás petted his bald head. "I actually wanted to ask something of you. Would you be a dear and bring The Anatomy and History of House Elves by Dilys Derwent, The Unsung Helpers: A History of House-Elf Servitude by Carlotta Pinkstone, Elven Etiquette: The Unwritten Rules of House-Elf Behavior by Galadriel Manners, and Magic in Chains: The Ethics of House-Elf Enslavement by Tiberius Nook?"
As Nicolás listed, Whisker snapped his fingers, and one by one, the tomes materialized, from the Cardona library to the floor in front of them.
"Will that be all, sir?" asked Whisker.
Nicolás nodded. "Yes, Whisker, thank you so much for your help."
"Whisker is always happy to help Mr. Nicolás, sir!" said the elf, and with another snap, he vanished.
Nicolás bent and grabbed the heavy tomes, distributing them for Hermione, Harry, and Ron.
"I think we can do a lot with this project, Hermione, but I'm also afraid it won't get you or us or the house elves anywhere unless you read this," he gestured to the books. "They will give you a great understanding of house-elves and their story, remember that this is not about you, but about them. When you read them, you can call me and we will talk about S.P.E.W more in-depth, okay?"
Harry and Ron looked at the book bewildered, but Nicolás recognized the fire behind Hermione's eyes as she nodded.
"I will, Nico, thank you for this," she said. She and Ron turned to leave, but Harry came closer to him.
"Are you sure about this?" Harry asked.
"Little One, you know me," he ruffled Harry's messy hair. "Now go Mr. Secretary, your SPEW meetings will start soon I assume."
With a groan, Harry walked away as Nicolás chuckled and walked inside the Hufflepuff Common Room.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
During the following week, Nicolás had to admit things seemed to go uphill. Unsurprisingly, Care of Magical Creatures was a blast.
Hagrid had decided it was time to show them the Thestrals, invisible winged horses. Only people who had witnessed and accepted the nuances of death could see them, Nicolás could do so too, but only thanks to his family's gift.
Thanks to his family's gift, Nicolás was also able to communicate with all magical creatures. Generally, in class, he used his gift to calm them and guide them in helping his fellow students to study them. Now, however, he was able to convince two of the Thestrals — because, really, Thestrals were some of the most obstinate, no-nonsense magical creatures — of playing with the Weasley twins, or, more than playing with them, making the fool out of them.
Every once in a while, one of the Thestrals would creep behind them — unnecessary thing, given nobody could see them — and with their snout, they would push them. It was hilarious, out of nowhere, you would hear a yelp or a shriek, and would have one of the Weasley twins rolling on the floor, pushed, apparently, by an invisible force. Soon enough, the other twins would follow the exact same fate.
They would jump to their feet as their class laughed their asses off and start insulting the invisible horses, who would respond with another unexpected push, turning it into a sort of hilarious loop of free entertainment.
Hagrid would send Nicolás scolding looks for disrupting his class, but Nicolás saw the way he used his thick beard and his large hand to cover his mouth as he laughed. He was, obviously, enjoying the show himself.
Charms was a very easy peasy class for him. Professor Flitwick decided to start the year by tackling what he considered the hardest part of their curriculum: nonverbal spells.
Thing was, Nicolás had been using such spells for a few years. The easiest ones his father taught him before he started his magical education; how to light and extinguish candles or how to lift heavy things.
In his three years at Castelobruxo, he had learned how to use most of their curriculum nonverbally. But still, he enjoyed greatly wordlessly casting the Bubble-Head Charm on the Weasley twins — now, please don't think Nicolás has a vendetta against the twins, he just thought it was poetical justice to have the school pranksters be the victims of constant pranks.
They would have two panicked twins running around the classroom in circles until one would crash into the other, their bubbles exploding as they fell on their asses. Nicolás knew Professor Flitwick found it as funny as Hagrid did, because he would go breathless in laugh, holding to his atrium for dear life.
He would finally scold the twins and take points from Gryffindor for the disruption as the class laughed.
As they left the Charms classroom — the Gryffindors moving to Transfigurations —, Nicolás felt anxiety building up inside him. The Hufflepuffs would go to Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Slytherins. It wasn't a surprise he felt that way, most Hufflepuffs did after Professor Moody's demonstration of the Unforgivable Curses.
The first thing Moody announced from his desk once the room was filled with the students, was that he would be casting the Imperius Curse on all of them.
"I assume the name 'Unforgivables' already explains how illegal it is to perform such curses, Professor," said Nicolás, feeling his stomach churn. "Most of all, on fellow humans."
It wasn't the first time he was taken aback by Moody's unconventional — bordering the unethical — methods of teaching; it was all unnecessarily dangerous.
“Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like,” said Moody. He used his wand to clear a large space in the middle of the classroom. “you are sixth years, you have no getting out of it.”
Okay, that was no good news for Nicolás' anxiety, which had a dying grip on him as Moody's words left his mouth. The knowledge that he — and his classmates — would be in the presence, and be the targets, of an Unforgivable Curse had the hairs on his back and arms standing tall, his palms were sweating, his heartbeat was looking for a new peak each second that ticket away, and it seemed like he was going deaf with how hard the blood vessels in his ear were drumming, they were probably challenging a heavy metal concert.
As if that wasn't enough to make his existence unpleasant, the moment Moody started to cast the Imperius Curse on the students, the family crest hanging on his neck started to heat in the presence of such dark magic. The voice in the back of his head let him know it wasn't going to end well when his turn came. Why, it was up to luck.
Nicolás had created the necklaces back in his first year. The strings were made out of Unicorn tail hair knitted together; those strings had been submerged in a combination of Elixir of Purity and Draught of Perception for a month, making them able to detect and perceive dark magic surrounding them. The family crests were made out of Goblin-wrought silver, and were bathed in pure moonlight for an entire full moon, just so it would become more perceptive and receptive for the spells and runes used later on.
Next, the crests went through an Aegis Alloy Coating, an ancient alchemical formula to take silver to its strongest possible state, making it virtually indestructible. The coating took two months in brewing and then one week with with the crests submerged on it.
Three months, after everything was ready, the hardest part started: the spells, and runes.
The strings and collar were covered with runes for mental clarity, communication and Legilimency, that way, the Wampus Cat teeth could be activated. A simple charm was used on the strings and collar so they could be incredibly durable and strong.
And finally, he used a combination of spells similar to those used in the creation of two-way mirrors and dairies, and with that, he created a path and space for communication for the three necklaces and the pet collar.
The thing was, he had tested the necklaces on a large number of curses, jinxes, and hexes, and found out that basically, the necklace not only detected the dark magic, but any magic with the intention of hurting him. However, he had never tested it with the Unforgivable Curses, for obvious reasons.
According to his theories, it was either going to be equally effective to protect against them, or it was going to be broken — Nicolás really hoped for the first option.
As Moody cast the curse upon one student after the other, Nicolás saw his normally mundane classmates do things he would've never thought of. Alec was ordered to recite lines from Shakespeare's Hamlet. He threw himself on one knee, and in an overly dramatic voice with accentuated pauses, and with equally dramatic arm gestures, he started to recite,
"To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,
No more; and by a sleep to say we end."
It was a good theatrical display, and it ended when Moody moved on to Amara. He commanded her to dance like a ballerina, taking the stage to perform Swan Lake. With a level of agility and body coordination she had never displayed before, Amara moved around the empty space, her legs and feet moving in perfect synchrony with her hands, a passionate expression on her face. She did pirouettes, jumps, and runs until her performance ended.
Next came Aurora, who Moddy made burst into an operatic song, The Phantom of the Opera. As if she had been on a stage her whole life, Aurora dramatically gave a loyal rendition of the main song of the musical, reaching and hitting perfect notes only the most trained sopranos in the world could, always singing with a nonexistent male partner.
When it was Cedric's turn, Moody ordered him to walk around the classroom acting like a duck. At first, Cedric crouched, taking position with his arms placed like the duck's wings, but then he stayed like that for long moments. Suddenly, he started to scream. He was fighting the curse.
“Look at that, he’s fighting it!” growled Moody. Finally, long seconds later, Cedric let out a loud quack, and Moody lifted the curse. “Good job, son,” he said, slapping Cedric’s shoulder. After that, Cedric was left with a horrible headache.
When Dorian's turn came, Moody ordered him to do a few ballerina displays for them. Unlike Cedric, Dorian didn't move from his spot after Moody cried, "Imperio!"
Dorian's cold eyes stood fixed on the professor, his face was hardened and his brow furrowed.
A few times Moody yelled orders at him; telling him to act like a lion, or to do squats, and not for a second, despite Moody's insistence, did Dorian move.
"That's more like it!" growled Moody, giving Dorian different orders he never carried on in the slightest.
Three long minutes later, as small droplets of sweat shined in Dorian's hairline, the boy screamed, and he broke himself free from Moody's curse.
"Look at that, you lot... Lestrange fought it, and he won! No other student has been able to overpower it," said Moody, his eye fixed on Dorian. Once more, Nicolás witnessed the weird twinkle in Moody's eye when he looked at his friend. Maybe it was the respect for someone able to break free from the Imperius Curse so young? But there... there was still something akin to fascination, almost... unhinged, in that look, something that made Nicolás feel uncomfortable.
Not wasting more time, Moody turned to Nicolás.
"Cardona, to the front," Moody growled.
With slow steps, and letting go of Cedric's hand, Nicolás stepped forward, feeling as his family's crest heated again against his chest.
"Professor, I don't think this is a good idea," Nicolás tried to reason.
"I know about your Legilimency and Occlumency, boy, Dumbledore says they're pretty advanced. But this is only a test, it won't hurt you," said Moody.
"Professor, I'm not afraid it'll hurt me, I'm afraid it'll hurt you," Nicolás clarified.
Moody narrowed his eyes at him with a badly covered sneer. He raised his wand and without flinching cried, "Imperio!"
It all happened in less than a second, for everything seemed to go in slow-mo in Nicolás' mind.
The Unicorn tail hair of his necklace's string came alight in bright colors, and the silver family crest heated horribly against his chest — almost burning his skin — before shooting up, out of his robes and right in front of him. All of that happened before Moody's voice finished the incantation.
The Imperius Curse had no color, it was completely imperceptible, but Nicolás knew the moment it hit the silver crest, for the silver also came alight in a blinding blue light, bathing the entire room in its light. The crest, suspended in the air, started to quiver.
Moody's wand started to vibrate in his hand so bad, that he had to hold it with both hands. The wand was trying to finish the curse, but Moody didn't relent, pressuring forward even more magic.
For a moment, Nicolás feared the silver was going to bend under such magical pressure, but under everyone's astonished eyes, straight from the silver crest, a jet of blue energy was shot. It impacted Moody's wand, creating a small explosion, and sending the man flying back. He landed sprawled on the floor on his back.
Well, that was that. Nicolás had gotten his answer. Apparently, his creation at eleven was strong enough to handle Unforgivable Curses, and Nicolás was most glad for such knowledge.
“What did you do?!” bellowed Moody as he got to his feet.
“I warned you, professor!” said Nicolás.
“What is that thing!?” Moody demanded, stomping towards Nicolás. He tried to grab the silver crest, that no longer shone, but it burned him. Nicolás jumped back and out of the man’s grip.
“It’s a family artifact I made years ago,” was all Nicolás offered. Some part of him told him it was unwise to trust Moody, there was still something most off about that man, no matter how much Dumbledore trusted him. In fact, the more Dumbledore advocated for him, the more Nicolás would distrust him.
“Take it off,” Moody demanded. “Take it off and we’ll do it again.”
“I don’t think so, Professor,” said Nicolás through clenched teeth.
“Take it off, or you’ll fail this class,” Moody growled menacingly.
“I don’t think Professor Dumbledore would agree with that statement, Professor, or the Ministry for that matter. Professor Dumbledore may have agreed to have you show us these curses, but I’m sure he wouldn’t approve of the notion of you making it mandatory to put us through them,” and with that, Nicolás turned around and stormed out of the classroom. Before crossing the door, he raised his hand, and wandlessly and wordlessly, he made his school bag float to it.
⋆｡°✩°｡⋆
Author's note
sooo, very angsty chapter, right? heh, hope you guys are getting used to that feeling...
thank you guys for reading!!! love you
- 𝐣. 𝐟. 𝐜. 🐼💜