Chapter Text
Summer in Marlborough didn’t so much begin as loosen.
Exams ended, ties vanished, blazers were abandoned in the backs of wardrobes like shed skins, and seventeen-year-olds flooded the town centre in packs, feral with freedom and absolutely no plan.
Sirius Black walked backwards down the pavement, arms flung wide, sunglasses crooked on his nose.
“We are wasting youth,” he declared dramatically. “This is a tragedy. This is history being written badly.”
“You failed maths,” James Potter said mildly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “History’s fine.”
“I did not fail maths.”
“You got a D.”
“A distinguished D.”
Lily Evans snorted. “That’s not how grades work.”
Behind them, Peter Pettigrew was trying to convince Mary Macdonald that the chippy down the road did half-price milkshakes on Wednesdays. Mary was unconvinced and deeply passionate about milkshake authenticity.
Remus Lupin walked beside Marlene McKinnon, both of them watching the chaos like anthropologists observing a rare species.
“They’ve been free for two days,” Marlene said. “Two. And already they’ve reached this stage.”
“It’s the lack of structure,” Remus replied serenely. “They’ll either find something productive to do or commit a minor felony.”
“Ten quid says felony.”
Alice Fortescue skipped ahead, hooking her arm through Frank Longbottom’s. “Arcade?”
“Closed for refurbishment,” Frank said mournfully.
Fabian Prewett and Gideon Prewett were arguing over whose playlist should control the Bluetooth speaker Fabian insisted on carrying everywhere.
“Yours is tragic,” Gideon said.
“You don’t understand art.”
“You added ‘Y2K Girlboss Bangers’ to it.”
“That is art.”
They reached the town square and stalled.
Seventeen-year-olds on summer holiday, untethered, directionless.
James flopped down on the low brick wall by the fountain. “We need a quest.”
“We need food,” Peter corrected.
“We need chaos,” Sirius countered.
He pulled out his phone lazily, thumb flicking over notifications. A map app glowed on the screen.
He blinked.
Paused.
Tilted the phone closer.
“Why,” he said slowly, “is Regulus five minutes away?”
There was a collective shift.
Lily looked up. “Regulus who?”
“My brother,” Sirius said. “The gremlin.”
“You have a gremlin?” Mary asked brightly.
“I have a brother,” Sirius corrected. “He is currently—”
He zoomed in.
“—at the ice rink.”
“The rink?” James straightened. “Why?”
“Maybe he’s playing hockey,” Frank offered.
Sirius stared at the little blinking dot. “Regulus does not play hockey.”
“Maybe he’s finally doing something cool,” Marlene said.
“He owns three turtlenecks,” Sirius shot back. “He alphabetises his books.”
Remus raised an eyebrow. “You alphabetise your records.”
“That’s different. That’s cultural curation.”
“Spying on your sixteen-year-old brother during summer break,” Lily said, standing up, “is a little weird.”
“We are not spying,” Sirius said instantly. “We are investigating.”
James was already grinning. “We are absolutely spying.”
Fabian whooped. “Field trip.”
Gideon slung an arm around Peter. “Operation Gremlin Watch.”
Alice clapped. “Oh, this is better than the arcade.”
And so they went.
The ice rink sat low and industrial at the edge of town, all metal panels and banners strung along the outside fence.
There were actual queues.
Frank frowned. “Why are there queues?”
“Families,” Mary said, pointing. “Look. Like… proper families.”
Children in sparkly jackets ran past them. Parents clutched coffees and programs.
A large banner over the entrance read:
National Junior Figure Skating Championships – Finals
They stopped.
They stared.
Sirius blinked.
“No,” he said.
James leaned closer to read. “Nationals?”
Marlene let out a slow whistle. “This is… big.”
Peter looked at Sirius. “You said hockey.”
“I assumed hockey!”
Lily folded her arms. “You don’t accidentally end up at nationals.”
Fabian peered through the glass doors. “Maybe he’s here watching.”
“Or dating a skater,” Gideon suggested.
“Or secretly an ice mascot,” Alice offered.
They joined the queue, because of course they did.
When they reached the front and the woman at the booth said, “That’ll be fifteen each,” they all blinked again.
“Fifteen?” Sirius repeated.
“It’s nationals,” she said kindly.
James dug into his wallet. “We’ve come this far.”
Sirius hesitated exactly three seconds before handing over his card.
Inside, the arena was colder than expected. The air smelled like metal and popcorn.
They climbed into the stands.
Below them, the rink gleamed like a mirror.
A skater in pale blue was mid-spin, sequins flashing under the lights.
They watched.
And watched.
“Okay but,” Peter whispered after the first routine ended, “what am I looking at?”
“Technique,” Remus murmured, surprisingly attentive. “Edge control. Transitions.”
“You know about this?” Marlene asked.
“My mum watches the Olympics religiously.”
The next skater leapt—rotated—landed clean.
The crowd gasped.
Mary leaned forward. “Okay that was sick.”
“Right?” Fabian said. “That looked illegal.”
Sirius shifted, restless. “He’s not here.”
They watched two more skaters.
The judges’ panel murmured into microphones. Scores flashed.
Alice was clutching Frank’s arm. “I don’t understand but I’m invested.”
Then—
“And skating next,” the announcer boomed, “representing Marlborough Ice Academy—Regulus Black.”
Time fractured.
Sirius went utterly still.
James choked.
“What?” Peter squeaked.
Lily’s head snapped toward Sirius. “You—”
The music began.
Regulus skated out.
For a second Sirius didn’t recognise him.
His brother—his quiet, severe, bookish brother—was dressed in black and silver, fabric fitted and sharp, subtle crystals catching the light like shards of frost.
He moved.
Not careful.
Not hesitant.
Fast.
Explosive.
The first jump came out of nowhere—launch, rotation, clean landing.
The arena roared.
James grabbed Sirius by the shoulders. “He just—he just did a triple something—”
“Quad,” Remus breathed, eyes wide.
“QUAD?” Marlene shouted.
Regulus flew across the ice.
Sharp turns. Blades carving crescents.
Another jump—higher.
Another spin—faster.
He dropped into a low spiral that looked physically impossible.
Peter’s mouth hung open. “That’s your brother?”
“That’s not my brother,” Sirius whispered faintly. “That’s some kind of weapon.”
The judges were murmuring excitedly into their mics.
“Incredible speed.”
“Look at that height.”
“His transitions are seamless.”
“Technical base value through the roof.”
Regulus landed another jump and threw himself into a spin so fast his costume blurred.
Alice was half-standing. “He’s feral.”
“He’s insane,” Fabian corrected.
“He’s brilliant,” Lily said softly.
There was nothing shy in him out there.
Nothing small.
The music built.
He launched into a final combination—jump into jump into jump—
Clean.
He hit his ending pose hard, breath visible in the cold air.
Silence.
Then the entire arena detonated.
Sirius didn’t realise he was on his feet until James was shaking him again.
“Mate,” James yelled over the noise, “he’s unreal!”
Marlene was clapping so hard her palms went red. “What the hell is he hiding at school?”
Frank laughed in disbelief. “He sits behind me in English.”
“He does homework in pen,” Peter said weakly.
Scores came up.
First place.
By a mile.
When it was confirmed later—gold medal—the Prewetts screamed loud enough to startle the row in front of them.
Sirius just stood there.
Watching his sixteen-year-old brother accept a medal like he’d been born under arena lights.
The exhibition segment began after a short break.
The third-place skater performed something lyrical and graceful.
The second-place skater did a dramatic contemporary routine.
Then the announcer’s voice took on a teasing tone.
“And now—our national champion. Regulus Black.”
The crowd cheered.
A judge leaned toward the microphone, laughing.
“It seems Regulus didn’t expect to win today. His written statement for the exhibition simply says—quote—‘If I somehow win, I’ll just do the stupid one.’”
Laughter rippled.
Sirius frowned. “The stupid one?”
The lights dimmed.
There was a beat of silence.
Then—
“Whoa-oh-oh-oh. Whoa-oh-oh-oh.”
The speakers boomed alive.
James blinked. “Is that—”
“Everybody is kung fu fighting, hoo! Huh!” the music blasted, “Your mind becomes fast as lightning.”
The doors at the side of the rink swung open.
Regulus skated out in a massive black-and-white panda costume.
The arena lost its mind.
Sirius made a noise that could only be described as wounded disbelief. “He did not.”
Regulus—giant panda head bobbing—struck a martial arts pose.
“Although the future is a little bit frightening, it’s the book of your life that you’re writing.”
He skated forward, wobbling deliberately.
Then launched into a jump.
In the panda suit.
He landed it.
Clean.
“You’re a diamond in the rough, a brilliant ball of clay.”
Mary screamed. “HOW?”
“You could be a work of art, ha! If you just go all the way, look out.”
He attempted an exaggerated spin, arms flailing.
“Now what would it take to break? I believe that you can bend.”
He dropped to his knees and slid dramatically across the ice.
“Not only do you have to fight, hoo! But you have got to win.”
He popped back up and cartwheeled.
CARTWHEELED.
“Everybody is kung fu fighting, hoo! Huh! Your mind becomes fast as lightning.”
James was crying with laughter. “He’s still doing triples!”
“Although the future is a little bit frightening, it’s the book of your life that you’re writing.”
Regulus pretended to lose balance and landed on his padded backside.
The crowd cackled.
He rolled onto his feet again in one fluid motion.
“You are a natural ooh, why is it so hard to see? Yeah.”
He pointed theatrically at a random section of the audience.
“Maybe it’s just because ooh, you keep on looking at me, huh!”
Fabian was bent double. “I can’t breathe.”
“The journey’s a lonely one ooh, so much more than we know, yeah.”
Regulus glided in a slow, overdramatic circle.
“But sometimes you’ve got to go ooh, go and be your own hero.”
He punched the air and leapt into another absurdly difficult jump.
“Everybody is kung fu fighting, your mind becomes fast as lightning, hoo! Hah!”
Second and third place skated out to join him.
They mimicked kung fu poses.
“Although the future is a little bit frightening, it’s the book of your life that you’re writing.”
One of them grabbed Regulus by the ankles and spun him across the ice.
The panda head wobbled violently.
Sirius clutched his chest. “He’s going to die.”
He did not die.
He landed upright, cackling audibly even through the speakers.
“You’re a diamond in the rough ooh, a brilliant ball of clay, yeah.”
He did a ridiculously fast spin, panda paws out.
“You could be a work of art oh, if you just go all the way, yeah.”
He pretended to karate-chop the air.
“Now what would it take to break? Ooh, I believe that you can bend, yeah.”
He bent backwards into a dramatic backbend spiral.
“Not only do you have to fight ooh, but you have got to win.”
He pumped both panda fists in victory.
“Everybody is kung fu fighting, your mind becomes fast as lightning.”
All three skaters struck synchronized poses.
“Although the future is a little bit frightening, it’s the book of your life that you’re writing.”
They ended in a heap, laughing on the ice.
The arena erupted.
People were on their feet.
Children were singing along.
Teddy bears and flowers rained down onto the rink.
Regulus pushed himself up, removed the giant panda head, and bowed deeply, hair damp with sweat, face split by the brightest grin Sirius had ever seen on him.
He skated along the perimeter, collecting gifts.
Taking selfies.
Thanking people.
The gold medal gleamed against black fur.
Sirius watched him.
Watched the way he laughed freely.
Watched the way he was loved by an entire arena.
James nudged him gently. “You okay?”
Sirius didn’t look away.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I just… didn’t know.”
Lily slipped her hand into James’s.
Remus smiled softly.
Marlene leaned on the railing. “Your brother’s kind of iconic.”
Fabian cupped his hands around his mouth. “REGULUS BLACK SUPREMACY.”
Gideon joined in.
Alice was tearing up.
Frank was shaking his head in awe.
Peter just kept repeating, “In a panda suit. In a panda suit.”
Below them, Regulus laughed again, oblivious.
A champion.
A gremlin.
Sixteen.
Still gloriously, stupidly a teenager.
And Sirius Black, for the first time in a long time, felt something settle warm and steady in his chest.
Not rivalry.
Not irritation.
Pride.
On the ice, under bright lights, Regulus spun once more—fast as lightning.