Chapter Text
“Where are you going?”
It wasn’t really a question. The rumor mill had already informed Regulus of the latest spat Severus had with his brother. Not in detail, but enough to know Sirius had gauded his favourite punching bag into doing something stupid.
“None of your business, Black,” Severus snapped at him. The older boy was wearing the cashmere sweater Regulus gave him for Christmas and had a scarf wrapped around his neck.
The halls of Hogwarts weren’t so cold. Severus was heading out, and Regulus didn’t like that.
“Perhaps not,” Regulus allowed, putting his book away carefully. Barty glanced up at him briefly, attention now torn between his homework and his best mate, but remained seated.
Regulus caught up with the angry boy just as Severus pushed the entrance of the Slytherin common room open. He knew not to touch his friend when he was this agitated; he still hoped he could talk him down. “You’re my friend and housemate though. As such it’s my duty to advise you against stupidity.”
Something dangerous gleamed in Severus’ eyes. It was the same glint he had in the first year. Before he, along with the rest of the student body, realised that Regulus was Sirius' little copy in looks only. “I need no advice from an inbred degenerate,” he sneered.
Knowing better than to push the issue, Regulus took a step aside quietly. With a last hot look of disdain, the older boy walked out.
Pursing his lips unhappily, the fourth year considered his options. He could follow and try to deal with it himself, or he could get back up. True, Severus had had a major falling out with his pet Gryffindor over calling her a mudblood a couple weeks ago. However Regulus was certain Evans still cared for ‘Sev’ enough to step in if he was about to get hurt. And Severus would listen to her, because he was desperate to earn her friendship back.
And she was a Prefect. She had the authority to accordingly deal with whichever dangerous tomfoolery Sirius might have came up with. And it would not count as snitching.
Decision made, Regulus caught Barty’s eyes to let him know he should focus on his homework, and hurried across the castle to the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. He used as many secret passages as humanly possible; he always felt like he was going to get scolded if he got caught running in the halls. And, it was difficult to make running look dignified and a Black never looked less than their best.
Luckily enough he only met a couple of Ravenclaws. And just before the entrance to the Gryffindor dorms, a first year, who seemed positively terrified of his stride. Well. Intimidation was a solid tactic of achieving one’s goal.
“Fetch me Lily Evans, the fifth year Prefect. It’s a pressing matter,” he told the Gryffindor girl haughtily. Then to make sure his request would catch Evans’ interest he added, “Tell her our mutual friend has a date with my brother. My name’s Regulus Black.”
He sent her off with a wave of his hand and she rushed back to the common room. He thought he should ask her name later. He’ll have the house elves leave her a little something as a thank you for her owl services.
He had been waiting for perhaps ten minutes when the portrait of Fat Lady flew open so fast it banged against the wall and James Potter nearly barrelled him over.
“Sorry!” the brother-thief yelled over his shoulder but didn’t stop his mad dash. Regulus watched him pivot around a corner, his worry for Severus quadrupled.
Just what could Sirius be planning to make Potter, the self-proclaimed king of 'pranks', react like this?
“Black!” he turned to face a breathless Evans. “What’s going on? Did you see Potter?”
Something was definitely very wrong.
An understanding passed between the two. They started running, his feeling of inadequacy pushed aside. Potter lost some of his head start when he nearly broke his neck on a staircase, but unlike Potter or Regulus Evans didn’t have the practice or the stamina of a Quidditch player. She was already gasping for breath on the second floor.
“Do you know the Featherless charm?” Regulus forced out, dragging her along. She was a year older and they were roughly the same height, but her hand was smaller than his. And much warmer, which was to be expected. His limbs were always cold.
“Oh, yes.” They skiddled to halt, she casted the charm on herself and Regulus picked her up in a fireman’s carry. He checked his hold on the now weightless girl was firm, and sprinted down the corridor they last saw Potter in. He was sure they raised some eyebrows; thankfully nobody stood in their way.
They ran out into the cool evening air; it was an uncharacteristically cold April that year. Regulus shivered, but chased after Potter with a single minded focus. He felt Evans’ hands push against his back. “He’s heading to the Whopping Willow!” she shouted like he couldn’t see it for himself. He was a Seeker; good sight was almost a requirement. And thanks to the full moon it was nearly as bright as a day.
Potter did something with his wand and the dangerous tree froze mid-movement. Regulus sped up to the limits of his body; whatever Potter did, it wouldn't last long.
Arriving at the trunk, he dropped Evans on her feet gently. “Here,” the Gryffindor pointed at a hole at the roots and not waiting for his input, lit the tip of her wand with a Lumos and descended into the narrow tunnel. Given the tree gave a worrying groan Regulus didn’t think twice about following her, taking out his wand as well.
They rushed through the tunnel as fast as they dared. The floor was uneven, the ceiling low. Bluish light dancing on the dirty walls let them know Potter wasn’t too far ahead of them. At this point they were both too out of breath to call after him. Echoes of crashing sounds had Regulus’ heart dropping in premonition.
At the end of the tunnel Potter pushed open a hatch door in the ceiling and the sounds got much louder.
Breaking furniture, snarling, cries of pain.
“POTTER!” Evans yelled after her classmate as the boy climbed up the hatch fearlessly. In a showcase of Gryffindor recklessness that wasn’t typical of her, the girl hurried to the hatch. Regulus brandished his wand, ran a list of defensive spells in his mind and followed suit.
The trap door led to a shabby room. Wallpaper was peeling off the walls, the floor was covered in scratches and suspicious stains. The wooden ceiling was shaking with thumps, like an eight-legged deer tap-danced up there.
The two teens exchanged looks. Wands raised, they cautiously headed for the staircase in the corner of the room.
Regulus wasn't far from the truth, with the eight-legged deer. There indeed was a deer. A giant deer battling a bloody werewolf. The beast was snarling and clawing at the deer’s antlers which were holding it pinned against a wall.
The boy blinked and looked away from the scene, hoping when he looked back the animals would have been a trick of mind. Instead his eyes fell on an image even more horrifying.
Severus.
Mindless of the struggling beasts, Regulus scrambled to his housemate. The other Slytherin was badly mauled and bleeding, his already pale skin nearly transparent. There wasn’t much life left in him.
Regulus wasn’t a stranger to healing - Grimmauld Place was packed with various dark objects of unpleasant reactions to being prodded, and Sirius always had a Thing about prodding things. And climbing things he shouldn’t be climbing and falling off them and getting hurt. It was usually up to Regulus to help him patch up in secret.
That was when they were little. After being sorted to Gryffindor, the idiot made it his mission to drive mother up the wall. Once he angered mother so much he got hexed bloody for his insolence, and Regulus lived in unease of it happening again. He devoured every text on the topic he could find and practiced the skills on aunt Durella’s house elf and his Quidditch mates so that he would never feel so helpless again.
He could easily treat burns and cuts and give first aid to broken bones and cracked teeth. But this? This was so far out of his league.
Even so, he had to try. Cutting through cashmere and cotton he stripped Severus’ upper body to reveal the full extent of the injuries. As he was cleaning the blood from the skin and wounds with his wand, Evans knelt on the other side of their friend’s motionless body. Together they regarded the badly torn bite marks on Severus’ left arm, and shallow but long scratches from the werewolf’s claws on his face and chest.
“We need silver shavings and dittany,” Evans said, frantically searching her pockets. “I grabbed a vial before I left - I thought they would be having a duel or something, but I don’t have anything silver on me--”
Regulus ripped his family signet ring off his pinky. “It’s sterling silver,” he said, hoping the 92.5% silver alloy would suffice. They didn’t have a choice, either way. He aimed his wand at the ring but Evans stopped him. She was holding a piece of paper in her hand, offering it to him.
Ah.
He cupped the paper in his hand and grounded the ring into silver dust on top of it. That way not a smidge of the precious metal would get wasted by sticking to his sweaty palm.
“Okay, okay okay okay,” said Evans. “You pour silver, I pour dittany. The bite first.”
Doing their best to ignore that the only thing standing between them and certain death was Evans’ shielding charm and a deer of all things, the pair worked on saving their friend’s life. They managed to close the entirety of the bites and the worst of the scratches before they run out of both silver dust and dittany.
“We need to get him to Madame Pomfrey,” Evans said shakily. Regulus looked at the unconscious boy dubiously. He didn’t think carrying him through the narrow tunnel was a good idea. One of them could run to the castle to get help, but it would take too long and leave the other vulnerable.
“We could, ah, take him downstairs first?” he suggested, eyeing the two beasts trampling too close for comfort. Evans nodded. They split their jobs again: Evans reinforced the Protego shielding them while Regulus carefully carried the unconscious boy down the stairs. Evans barricaded the trapdoor after them.
“I don’t dare to carry him through the tunnel. We could jostle him badly enough to start the bleeding again. Can you cast the Patronus Charm?” he asked, not really feeling hopeful. “A corporeal patronus could carry a message and lead the help here. Or we could use a flare but…” They didn’t know where they were, if anybody would see the light or who would come to their aid.
Evans grimaced; Patronus was a N.E.W.T.s level charm. Still, she raised her wand again. She wasn’t considered a Charms prodigy for nothing. “A happy memory, right?”
Regulus inclined his head. “Happy is preferable; it can also be a particularly strong one. I once managed a mist using a memory of Sirius pushing cousin Bella down the stairs for trying to push me.”
Lily stared at him with the same appalled expression people usually wore when he mentioned his home life. Then she shook her head. “Then you got further than I ever did. Wand up.”
Regulus inclined his head, then glanced at the ceiling. It was shaking under thundering of hooves and paws, sending specs of dust raining on them. “I’ll just…” He reinforced their safety with lines of ancient runes around the hatch door while Evans started on the Patronus.
Under better circumstances it would be a joy to watch the redhead get closer and closer to perfection. At the moment he was too busy checking on Severus’ condition and adding protective and defensive spells around them to truly appreciate it though. He did try to cast the charm himself, but unlike Evans he was grasping at straws.
When six feet of a fully formed silvery - herbivore - flew out of the tip of Evans’ wand, he could honestly cry of joy.
After that it was a matter of half an hour for Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey to come to the rescue. Dumbledore used the perks of being the Headmaster and apparated Severus and Pomfrey straight to the infirmary. McGonagall escorted Regulus and Evans through the tunnel back to the Whopping Willow, and from there straight to Dumbledore’s office.
Regulus’ worries spiked when the Headmaster wasn’t in the room. Was he with Severus in the infirmary still? How severe were Severus’ wounds? Did they overlook a bite? He exchanged an anxious look with Evans. What if Severus was dying? What if he was already dead?
A bowl of water was placed on a small table before them and with a jolt he realised that his hands were covered in dried blood. As were his pants. And Evans’ hands and her jeans and she had some smudged on her cardigan as well. So much blood.
His hands were shaking as he scrubbed them clean, the water turning rusty pink.
“Professor! How - how is he?” Evans demanded as soon as the Headmaster entered the room.
“Miss Evans, please, take a seat. Calming Draught? Pomona thought it would do you children well,” the Headmaster said kindly, gently pushing the distraught student into a plush armchair. She took the vial of Draught from him but only clutched it in her hands anxiously instead of drinking it. Regulus refused, knowing the medicine made him sleepy and loopy. They both refused the lemon drops when Dumbledore offered.
“Your swift action saved Mister Snape’s life. Madame Pomfrey expects he will make full recovery,” Professor Dumbledore told them magnanimously.
“Aside from the lycanthropy,” Regulus noted. Dumbledore’s face dimmed.
“Aside from the lycanthropy. I must ask you, Mister Black, Miss Evans, to keep the events of tonight a secret between us. For the safety and continuous education of Mr. Snape.”
“Of course,” Evans nodded quickly. “We won’t tell.”
Regulus shifted in his seat. Dumbledore was right that if anybody found out, Severus would be expelled from Hogwarts faster than one could say ‘werewolf’. His career, his life would be ruined.
Dumbledore wouldn’t have the easiest time either. Questions would arise; what was a werewolf doing on the school grounds in the first place? Wait. Why was there a werewolf in a shack at the end of an underground tunnel? Wait. A shack. The Shrieking Shack? Could it be? And Potter knew about the tunnel. Sirius must’ve known as well to send Severus there. Sirius must’ve known about the werewolf. Did the Marauders know who the werewolf was in their human shape? Were they a student? Was Dumbledore covering his own arse?
“Mister Black?” Regulus glanced up at the old man.
What did Headmaster’s motivations matter, if they served Regulus just fine?
Severus would be allowed to finish his education. There would be no investigation that would reveal his brother's role in the horrible event. Sirius’ relationship with their parents was too strained to survive such a blow. The Christmas dinner had been disastrous already.
“If I may propose a cover story, Slytherin students believe Severus left the common room to have a duel with my brother,” he said and sat up straighter, only now realising he’d been sagging in the armchair. His mind was wired but his body was tired.
“It is not uncommon for a Slytherin to be hospitalised after a run-in with the Marauders, and Sirius is oftentimes serving detentions for ‘pranks’ anyway. Nobody would notice things are amiss; at least not for a while.” Dumbledore was nodding along. The old man truly had some impressive selective hearing skills. When it came to his precious Gryffindors, sending other students to the hospital wing on bi-weekly basis was totally fine.
Annoyed by this truth, Regulus got up from the armchair and regarded the Headmaster with an icy lour. “I believe you will do everything in your power to accommodate Mister Snape’s new condition with his well-being in mind. If you would excuse me now? I would like to get changed and rest.”
“Yes, of course. It was an eventful evening for you two indeed. Ah - before you go. Miss Evans, fifty points to Gryffindor for exceptional bravery, quick thinking and casting a Charm beyond your years. Mister Black, fifty points to Slytherin for keeping a cool head, impressive medical knowledge and runework.”
Regulus thought the points felt more like a bribe than anything else but again, he would take it. He bid curt goodbyes to the professors and waited for Evans to do the same.
They didn’t need words; they headed straight for the hospital wing.
Madame Pomfrey took one look at their ashen, tired faces and ushered them into pajamas and beds. She strictly forbade them from disrupting Severus, whose bed had its curtains drawn shut. “You did a good job keeping him alive, but he’s on the mend and needs rest now,” she explained sternly, fluffing up Evans’ pillow. “And you two too.”
She forced a dose of Dreamless Sleep potion on both of them. Regulus would prefer to stay wide awake and keep an eye on their friend but he knew better than to fight the nurse.
He was a frequent enough visitor to the infirmary he had a designated bed with a stash of snacks and books in the nightstand; now he offered Evans to take her pick from his collection of chocolates.
They weren’t friends. Even if it wasn't for her heritage, they were in different houses and different years. Their schedules didn’t line up well. And at the Slug Club parties, well. They were friendly for Severus’ sake (and perhaps because Evans was just a nice person), but they never held a proper conversation.
“Was there really a deer keeping a werewolf away from us?” he wondered, nibbling on an orange peel covered in dark chocolate. Already drowsy from the potion.
“Remus.”
“Who?” Regulus asked before he could stop himself. Then his brain processed the auditory information. “Oh. Oh. Reckon his parents visited a Seer for his naming too.”
“Your parents had a Seer pick your names?” Evans asked, sounding snoozy. The chocolate bonbon she picked was melting between her fingertips, dangerously close to falling on the white linen sheets.
“Hmm.” He didn’t get the chance to answer properly. The potion dragged him to sleep.