Chapter Text
The journey down to the Slytherin chambers was a miserable one. Sirius’ outburst outside the Great Hall had done nothing but cement a narrative that had started when Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor. Sirius had abdicated, Regulus had taken his place, some said he had always wanted to. The Black brothers hated each other and their sorting into rival houses confirmed this. Everything was as it should be.
The leading prefects paused in front of the slithering body of an enormous stone serpent. Subtle, Regulus thought.
“Listen carefully,” the girl said. With clear enunciation the password was heard by all: “Pureblood.”
The stones shifted, leaving an opening wide enough for pairs of two to move into the common room without any difficulty.
Inside, Regulus was struck by the high ceiling chamber, its upper windows looked out into the depths of Black Lake and its dark waters. At night, the moon made it seem as if the entire room were a watery surface as if, it too, were moving. On the ground level, intricate stained glass windows provided another source of light, lending a tint to everything. The expansive common room was supported by a series of marble columns.
Below his feet, Regulus noticed a concentric patterned marble floor. As the tight circle of students began to break apart, he recognized the pattern as being that of an ouroboros. The head of the snake was devouring its own tail, representing the eternal cycle of death and rebirth. A Latin inscription could be seen inside the figure: “One is All, and by it All, and for it All’, Regulus translated, ‘and if it does not contain All, then All is Nothing.”
Glowing orbs hovered around the space and seemed to move to where people conglomerated.
The space was marked by flowing drapery, further mimicking the natural patterns of water, and fine leather seating areas. Regulus found it familiar.
“Boys over here with me,” said the seventh year prefect. As the group formed around him, he began to speak again. “I want to, once again, congratulate all of you who are seeing the common room for the first time tonight. As I’m sure you’ll discover, Slytherin is a loyal house and you will never find yourself without allies.”
A chorus of approval followed. “Now, first years follow me. Everyone else, you know how this goes.”
As Regulus fell behind the prefect, they started up a marble staircase. The girls did the same to the right of them. The steps were so large that Regulus had to take two steps to match the older boy’s one. Things continued this way until they reached the uppermost level, the one closest to the glass ceiling. The prefect stopped outside a door and called out four surnames: “Black, Crouch, Parkinson, and Rosier.”
Regulus recognized the one from the sorting ceremony because of his theatrical flourish. The other two pushed forward from the back of the group.
He had heard of the Parkinson’s, they were a political family, and, in one or another, manoeuvred their children into positions of power. Rather they were puppets for the more powerful once they got these positions was another story.
The Parkinson’s also had an affection for thematically naming their children. For the Black’s, the cosmos itself was the inspiration. The Parkinson’s preferred something more earthly: Greek and Roman history.
The four boys filed into their dorm and the prefect addressed them one more time, reminding them of curfew.
As the door closed, he heard a remnant of conversation from the other first years: “I hear the older one was trying to curse him, that’s why he caused a scene earlier.”
Regulus realized he had been clenching his jaw since the Sorting Ceremony and it had begun to hurt.
Once inside, two poster beds formed either side of the room. The curtains, made out of the same material as those in the common room, were neatly pulled to either side of the bed. The dark wood reminded him of his family's library. Next to each bed were equally dark wooden desks with open fronts.
Directly across from the main door was a window opening into the Black Lake, with two smaller ones on either side. A lounge couch was built into the wall under each of the windows.
In the very centre of the room was a shallow rectangular pool of water in the style of an impluvium. In its centre rose a snake sculpture as if it was frozen mid strike. Above it was a skylight. Obviously magical, the opening allowed outside weather in but nothing else.
It was the boy Regulus remembered who spoke first.
“Bartemius Crouch, and wait for it,” he started drumming on the wood posts near him, “Jr.,” he deadpanned. “My father, ever unoriginal, decided at the birth of his first son that one Bartemius Crouch in the world was not enough. Do you know how self - absorbed you have to be to name your child after you when you yourself have done nothing? As if it wasn’t bad enough to have him looking over my shoulder all the time, I hear him when my name is called.”
He smiled. “Call me Barty.”
No one argued.
“Perseus,” returned the other boy, “But, please don’t shorten it to Percy,” he added. Regulus smiled to himself, he had been right about the naming.
“Your father wouldn’t happen to be Romulus Parkinson, would he?”
The boy seemed pleased to hear his father’s name. “Yes, he is.”
Barty let out a hollow laugh. “This is far better than I could’ve hoped for.”
The boy nearest to Regulus gave him a look.
Barty elaborated, “My father and your father are vying for the same ministerial seat.”
Perseus shifted uncomfortably and was about to say something when Barty interjected. “No hard feelings though, I think your father’s the better candidate.”
The boy seemed to suspect that Barty was being sarcastic but the conversation quickly turned.
“Regulus,” he said by way of introduction, not wanting to be the last one to do so.
“Your brother was the one who made a scene tonight, right?” Barty asked.
Regulus didn’t expect his name to be met with that kind of question but, in a way, it was refreshing. There was no flattery or hidden intentions behind it.
“Yes, that was him.”
“After seeing that, I’ve never been more grateful to be an only child. Father will be thrilled when he finds out I’m sharing a dorm with thee Regulus Black.”
So Barty did know who he was after all and intended to profit off it. Regulus’ jaw clenched again.
“But he won’t hear it from me, I didn’t come here to be his campaign manager,” Barty clarified. Regulus was pleasantly surprised for the second time that night. “Did you know some of the others were placing bets on if you’d be sorted into Slytherin or Gryffindor?” How Barty knew all this, Regulus didn’t care to know.
“Did you?” he questioned, “place a bet that is?”
“No,” he said sharply, “I don’t care about all that. Besides, I pleaded with the hat to put me in the house that would piss off my father the most and here I am.”
As the dialogue continued, Perseus’ eyes had grown bigger and bigger out of fear that Regulus Black would kill their roommate where he stood. He half thought to do it himself.
Finally, the boy closest to him spoke. “I’m Evan.” He had a round face that made him look younger than his eleven years.
“. . . Just Evan?” Bary questioned, “No convoluted, ominous meaning?
“Mine means honourable son,” he added sarcastically after a moment.
He looked over at Perseus who somewhat reluctantly added, “My namesake beheaded Medusa.”
Regulus was grinning by the time they got to him. “Heart of the Lion,” he said, recognizing the irony.
A snicker came from Evan’s corner of the room and then, as if suddenly struck by the absurdity of the situation, laughter filled the room. “That’s cruel,” he said once he could speak.
“That’s purebloods for you,” Regulus confirmed.
“No one does identity crisis inducing names like us,” Barty added.
Regulus felt better, the tension had left the room and the night's discussion turned to who would get what bed.
Perseus, ironically, was afraid of water and wanted a bed as far away as possible from the windows. Barty, for reasons he wouldn’t specifically reveal but used the term “strategic” to describe them, also wanted one of the beds closest to the door. This forced Regulus into one of the two beds closest to the windows. When the night came to a close, the arrangement was Barty and Regulus on the left side and Perseus and Evan on the right.
Regulus stared out at the shifting waters from the now dark room. Confident that everyone was finally asleep he reached underneath his bed and pulled out the journal Sirius and he shared. His ring cast an invisible light on a new message from his brother:
Wait for me in the Great Hall tomorrow morning.
He wasn’t avoiding Sirius but he wasn’t going out of his way to see him either. When he awoke that morning, he found his new attire neatly arranged at the end of his bed. He wore a grey pullover, its neck lined in Slytherin colours, a tie tightly knotted around his neck, and the usual black robe.
Several owls had already arrived that morning, delivering many a congratulations to him. His parent’s' letter, though signed by both of them, had obviously been the work of his mother only. One from his cousin's parents and another from his uncle.
Across from him sat Barty and Evan while their third roommate momentarily visited the table of a cousin of his.
“What do we have first?” Barty asked, lifting a glass to his mouth.
“That would be-”
But Regulus didn’t hear his answer, Sirius had just walked into the Great Hall. He stiffened and his roommates who were both waiting for his reply turned their heads to see the older Black manoeuvring his way toward them.
Why did Sirius always insist upon causing a scene? Students were already talking about their supposed rivalry. Anything he had to say to him in public, could just as easily be said in private.
“Want us to distract him?” Barty said, nonchalantly.
“What?” Regulus said.
“I wouldn't want to talk to him either,” Evan said.
Regulus wasn’t sure where the conversation was going but his eyes must have been easier to read then he had thought.
Barty gently removed something from his bag before hugging it close to his chest. “Follow my lead,” he said.
“Save us a seat, will you?” Evan said.
Not waiting for Sirius to get any closer, his two roommates started up. Timing it, Barty started walking backwards, waving at Regulus, before he abruptly turned back around and ran straight into Sirius, hard.
The boys pulled away from each and Barty’s eyes were wide in feigned horror. Black ink soaked into the fabric of Sirius’ uniform and grew in size with each passing moment.
Evan came up behind him and began to rub the stain, spreading it and making it infinitely worse.
And while his roommates continued to offer their profuse apologies, Regulus calmly shouldered his bag and exited.
He cast a backward glance and, much to his surprise, he started laughing. Sirius pushed furiously at his roommates who only rubbed his shirt with renewed intensity. And then he realised something: he wasn’t the only one watching from afar. Just outside the Great Hall stood James Potter who had seen the whole thing unravel and was now looking at Regulus with an indecipherable look.
Sirius had probably asked him to come with him to talk to his little brother or maybe he had insisted. Whatever the truth, Regulus imagined the look on James face to be one of disdain and he looked at him as if daring him to say something. James only raised an eyebrow.
The first class of the day was one that he felt he had sufficiently mastered: Charms. Professor Flitwick, a small man, who had to stand atop a stack of books to be at eye level with his students, took his time setting up.
The classroom was arranged in such a way that no matter where you sat, you could see everyone. Regulus kept a watchful eye on the door for his friends when someone else caught his attention. She paused at the entrance of the room, looked around, settled on Regulus, and made directly for him. When she sat down next to him, she removed her textbook from her bag.
“The word charm comes to us from an Old French word which means lamentation. This is befitting as the study of charms could be described as the changing of what we already know,” Professor Flitwick paused, as Barty and Evan dodged into the class.
“Please be mindful of when our class starts,” Flitwick said despite seeming like he wanted to say more.
The two sat behind him and Barty tapped his shoulder. “I don’t think your brother likes me,” he said whispering, his face alight.
Flitwick continued, “Unlike Transfiguration which is about loss; the underlying principle of charms is change.” His speech couldn’t keep up with his mind and manifested in uncomfortably long pauses.
Next to him Pandora wrote down everything he said. Coming from a family that made a career out of charm casting and removal, Regulus couldn’t figure out what the professor had to say that she didn’t already know.
As the class continued, the time had finally come for each student to try their own at charmwork. It was clear who came from magical families and who didn’t. The feather in front of him was levitating smoothly.
“If you already have a sense for the levitation charm, consider helping your classmates,” Flitwick said, obviously overextended between students who couldn’t pronounce the charm correctly, did the wrong wand movement, or both. Regulus had no intention of helping those around him, no one had done so with him.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Pandora add a second feather to her levitating one. Not wanting to draw attention to himself but never one to shun an opportunity to showcase his learning either, Regulus did the same.
Pandora added another. He followed suit.
With three feathers levitating in front of her, the middle one began to spin. Regulus did that and more: his two outermost feathers began to spin counterclockwise.
Pandora’s charmwork was fluid with none of the hesitancy of their classmates. For Regulus, who had always been the best at everything, his indifference toward her changed into something else: intrigue.
He was beginning to think she had abandoned their little game when he followed her line of vision to the front of the class. The stack of books Flitwick used as a podium were fully off the ground. Regulus looked from the stacked books to the set of feathers that continued to levitate unchanged.
Pandora was not one to be so easily beat. Neither was he.
He was focusing on the second, taller, stack of books when Flitwick offered his exclamations of praise. “Excellent initiative, we won’t learn about chained charmwork until next week I’m afraid.” He took a look at each of their uniforms, “Ten points to both Ravenclaw and Slytherin.”
“I won,” Pandora said, continuing to pack up her things when class ended.
“Only because of an interruption,” he said, defensively.
She turned to face him for the first time. “Nobody likes a sore loser, Regulus Black," she said with a brilliant smile. She stood up and left him in the classroom.
Regulus learned an important lesson after all: you don’t have to like someone to view them as worthy competition.
Regulus was resting underneath one of the large windows in his dorm when he heard the door open and close. He reclined his neck expecting to see one of his roommates. Nothing.
He returned to his homework, flipping to a later section for the book, when he heard what sounded like footsteps.
He pushed himself up from his position. From his side of the room, a book fell off his desk. If this was the doing of his roommates, he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
He closed his book and moved nonchalantly toward the one on the floor. Upon closer inspection, it was the journal Sirius and he shared. As he bent to pick it up, it moved ever so slightly to the right. When he went to pick it up again, it shot underneath the bed.
He narrowed his eyes, walking away before suddenly dropping to the floor. As he rose victorious, journal in hand, something made hard contact with his back and he began to fall.
Right before he made contact with the floor, a hand twisted itself into the fabric of his vest, keeping him hovering above the ground just like he had done to the feathers in class earlier.
“So you do know where your journal is.” Regulus’ head whipped around.
“What are you doing here? How did you get in here?”
Sirius righted his brother. “Whoever is in charge of your password is not as clever as they think, I just went with every elitist saying I could think of. ‘Pureblood’ was my third guess.”
“Were you seen?” he asked.
“You’re more worried if I was seen then the fact that you have to recite a blood supremacy password to a stone snake that strikes you if you get it wrong?”
Regulus looked from Sirius to the velvet cloak now resting on his bed.
“Wouldn’t be much of an invisibility cloak if I was seen, would it?” he muttered.
Regulus didn’t care how his brother came to be in possession of an invisibility cloak, he had wanted to see his brother on his own terms and this was a clear violation of them.
“And what if I marched around Gryffindor Tower asking for Sirius Black?” he retorted
“I’d expect they’d bring you up to my dorm,” he said.
Regulus shook his head, exasperated. “And after they did that, they’d talk.”
Sirius quieted. “They’ll do that regardless. Is that what this morning was all about?” he ventured.
“I just don’t see why we had to meet in the Great Hall of all places?”
“I thought if we had it out in the open there would be no room for speculation.”
“Of course that’s what you thought because that’s how you do things. I’m not you… they might not put words into our mouths but they’ll interpret the ones we do say to suit their narrative.”
“So what do you propose: let what others might think dictate our lives.”
“You’re not listening at all,” Regulus said.
“I don’t need to, I hear the exact same voices you hear. And while most of the time they’re wrong, sometimes they’re right.”
“So what do you do?”
“You pick which voices matter to you,” Sirius said.
As his brother said this, Regulus’ mind immediately turned to his roommates and he thought he could be right.
“Even so, maybe can wait for things to quiet down before we go parading about each other’s common rooms,” he said.
Sirius nodded, smiling. “Agreed.” He took in his brother's dorm. “It’s nice, but not as nice as ours.”
Regulus was about to offer to show his brother around when he heard Barty’s characteristic laugh.
“Quick!”
Sirius threw the cloak over himself stopping just short of his head. “Is this the one who spilled ink on me earlier?”
Regulus pulled the cloak over his face just as Barty walked in.
The boy looked at Regulus curiously.
“Is Evan back yet?”
“Just me,” he said.
“I could have sw-“ And before he could finish his sentence, he seemed to trip on thin air and fall directly into the shallow water pool in the middle of their dorm.
Regulus suppressed a smile as he saw the door open and close.