Confusions and Complications

Regulus didn’t understand what was going on.

A moment ago, he was in the cave, the cold, dark cave, being pulled underwater by the inferi, water filling his lungs, hands clawing and ripping his clothes, his skin, and everything went black.

He knows.
He remembers.
He knows, by all means, he should be dead.
But he’s not. How?

Looking around only becomes more confusing, as he instantly recognises the updated, newly-decorated DADA classroom at Hogwarts.
Hogwarts?-

His eyes catch on a familiar pair of amber eyes as the dull ache of pain pounds the back of his head, and manages to utter one word before he gives into the darkness again.

“Remus?”

–

Harry sees the moment Professor Lupin realises the severity of the wounds on the unknown boy’s body- his eyes widen, and in that moment, his teacher looks as if he’s seen a ghost. The man’s next action is to help the boy lying on the floor, but his hands shake as he mumbles healing spells, and his voice trembles.

“Miss- Miss Granger,” Lupin coughs, “Please grab Professor McGonagall next door, tell her I need her assistance urgently.”

Hermione only nods, looks once at the body on the floor, and dashes out the room to the transfiguration classroom around the corner. Professor Lupin continues his spells, brows furrowing as nothing seems to happen.

The class looks on in silence as they wait for Hermione to come back with another teacher, silent as the realisation that whoever is laying on the floor isn’t a dark magical creature, isn’t a boggart. Not long after, two pairs of footsteps can be heard- one rushed, the other swift. Hermione bounds into the room as quickly as she left, and immediately directs Mcgonagall to the lump on the floor, looking to Professor Lupin on what to do next.

The transfiguration teacher lets out a sharp inhale, and moves closer to the body on the floor.

“Is that-”

“I-I think so,” he cuts her off, “But he’s not in a very good state right now, and I don’t know how he got here, or how he got those, either.”

“Nevermind that, we must get him to the hospital wing, and soon. He’s going to bleed out otherwise. Have you not tried any healing spells, Remus?” The professor shoots McGonagall a panicked look.

“None of them work.”

McGonagall cursed. The next moment, she had her wand out and a silver blast was bursting out of the classroom. Harry’s teacher looked at McGonagall and nodded, turning back to the boy’s corpse. The deputy head then turned back to the class.

“This class is dismissed early, everyone is to pick up their belongings and return to their common rooms- I suggest you catch up on some homework. If I find out that any of you have disobeyed my instructions, I will be handing out detentions.”
With that, McGonagall led Professor Lupin out the door, presumably to the hospital wing, the boy in Lupin’s arms.

In a daze, the class packs up and begins to filter out the classroom. As he’s leaving, Harry realises that the boy called his teacher by his first name. Did Professor Lupin know him somehow? He’s interrupted from his thoughts as he meets up with Ron and Hermione.

“Blimey, mate!” Ron starts, looking at Harry and Hermione with a wide-eyed gaze. “What happened to that poor bloke?”

“I have no idea, but did either of you hear what the boy said when he woke? I was too far away to hear.” Hermione smiled at them sheepishly, but Harry could already see the sparkle in her eyes- the one that took over when she had a curious itch that needed to be cured. He smiled at her.

“I heard,” Ron and Hermione both looked at him. “It was really weird- he said ‘Remus’.”

“That’s Professor Lupin’s first name, isn’t it?” Ron said.

“Yeah,” Hermione nodded. “So he knows him? Interesting. I don’t think he knows the boy from teaching here, because we were his first class, and he isn’t in our year. Also, the boy called him by his first name, so it’s more personal,” she mumbled as the trio walked back to the Gryffindor common room.
“Maybe a relative?”

“I dunno, Hermione, Professor Lupin looked pretty shaken up about the whole thing. He looked too freaked out for it to be just a relative.” Ron gasped.

“What about a dead relative?” Harry contemplated it.

“Well, that’s,” Hermione paused. “Not.. normal.” Harry snorted.

“Nor was the state the boy was in. Or the situation, considering he appeared from a boggart. And let’s not forget, this isn’t the first time we’ve dealt with the ‘non-normal’. I think, from what I’ve learnt, magic itself isn’t ‘normal’, and pretty much anything is possible.”

There was a pause. Hermione opened her mouth, as if to argue, and then suddenly thought about it. And promptly closed her mouth.

“True..” she murmured. “Anyways.. We should all work on that potions essay together, it’ll be easier that way, won’t it?”

“Yeah, good idea. On the topic of that essay…”

–

Remus had taken to pacing the length of the hospital wing in a panic.

Minerva watched from her seat on one of the beds, eyes creased in concern- for both him and Regulus, he presumed. He looked over again to the curtain separating him from his (young) best friend, and felt the panic he had become accustomed to pass through him. He heard Minerva sigh.

“Do you have other classes today?” Remus looked up at her, and into her comforting green eyes.

“Uh,” He winced when his voice cracked, “I have the 7th years later, but that’s it today. It was going to be a self-study session.” Minerva nodded.

“I presume you do not want to leave him?” His professor asked, laying a hand on his shoulder. He nodded. She smiled.

“I will handle your class, then. I will expect you in the great hall at lunch, or else I will be sending food to the infirmary, and you will deal with Poppy’s wrath.” Remus chuckled- he was familiar enough with Poppy’s rage, as it was enacted on him when he broke her rules to read with Regulus-

His smile dropped. Regulus was still with Poppy, being treated, and Remus had no idea if he was going to survive. He sighed.

“Thank you, Minerva, I appreciate you covering for me.” Said woman only waved off his statement as she gave him a hug before she left.

It was another hour before Poppy emerged from behind the curtain. Remus immediately stood up, and she gave him a fond but tired smile.

“He’s fine,” she paused. “Well, better. He’ll survive. But those wounds…”

“Do you know what caused them?”

“No, unfortunately not. I have a feeling I know who will though.” They both glanced at Regulus. Poppy shook her head. “Has the headmaster been informed of Mr. Black’s.. Situation?” Remus shook his head.

“Okay. He should be up soon, notify me when he does. I will notify the headmaster now.” The werewolf nodded at the nurse.

“Thank you, Poppy.” She nodded, then walked to her office. Remus approached the bed his friend was lying on, concerned that he could only distinguish the boy by his dark hair. He sat down on a chair, and waited.

–

Regulus woke from the darkness surrounding him suddenly, and was startled by the bright lights suddenly assaulting his eyes. He blinked. Blinked again. Blinked a third time.

The next time he blinked, there was a blurry figure above him. Chunks of sound filtered through his mind, and the image above him became more clear. Their lips were moving, they were saying something- Regulus didn’t know what, though.

“-egulus? Are you there?” the figure- his older best friend, he now saw- asked, sounding shaken.

“R’mus?” Was his smart answer. However, the werewolf slackened, stress falling from his figure, so Regulus presumed (hoped) it helped.

“Oh thank god. Poppy!” He called. “He’s awake.” The nurse came running in, and proceeded to do the familiar process of a health check-up on Regulus.

Wait. How did- how did Regulus get here? He was in the cage, with Kreacher, and the locket-

The Locket.

Where was the locket? Regulus frantically looked around for any indication he had the locket on him, frantically searching for it, for what he (almost) died for. He had to have it, he couldn’t have lost it, he couldn’t have, it would mean that everything would’ve been pointless.

But- as more memories rushed into his mind, his panic calmed. He gave the locket to Kreacher, who then apparated back to Grimmauld Place, so the locket was safe.

But why was he in the Medical Wing at Hogwarts?

“Okay, Mr. Black,” The matron said. “Everything seems to be okay.. You gave us quite the scare with those wounds, however, and you will be resting and staying in bed for the next week, atleast.” She glared at Regulus, daring him to challenge her like he had in the past, but he stayed quiet, too tired to argue.

“Regulus,” Remus said. “Where did you get those wounds?”

-

When Draco walked into his first DADA lesson of third year, he expected a boring lesson on a creature or spell he had already been taught. He had prepared to mock, insult, talk back at the teacher as We’re Malfoys, Draco, we show everyone that we’re superior to them, in every way- especially in knowledge. And he had done, at first.

What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was his teenage (previously?) dead cousin to appear. Much less in place of, or as, a boggart. In a Defence Class.

Despite the fact that Draco could only truly see a lithe body frame and black curls from where he was stood, he could instantly tell it was him. Sure, Draco had never met Regulus Black in person because he died before he was born, but he grew up on bedtime stories of the teenager’s life. His relationship with Narcissa, facing the House of Black alone as both the youngest siblings and the ones who stayed. His school friends and shenanigans. His relationships.

He had seen pictures- official and candid, moving and still, and Draco always wondered why his mother had muggle photos of Regulus-. He had looked at his school achievements when he first came to school. Had found videos of him and someone else, in his second year in a random room.

So, there was no doubt that this figure was Regulus Black.

But according to his mother, Regulus died during the first war, doing something.. ‘secretively heroic’, as she’d put it. He’d died.

And he looked it, too- Draco moved to get a better view of his cousin, only for his vision to be painted red with all the cuts and wounds that seemed to be spilling blood.

What?

None of this made sense.

Where did he get those wounds? How did he get them? And, most importantly- why was he here, in a random defence class, of all places?

Professor Lupin seemed as surprised as the class did, when the old black heir appeared, so this wasn’t a planned thing. So, what was going on?

He didn’t know, but as he left the Defence classroom only fifteen minutes after he’d entered it, he knew he had to speak to his mother.