Chapter Text
Morning settled over Hogwarts with the slow, golden patience of a castle that had existed for a thousand years and expected to exist for a thousand more.
The Great Hall glowed with early light filtering through the high enchanted ceiling, which today showed a pale, drifting sky streaked with soft clouds. The four long house tables were filling steadily with students in various states of wakefulness. Plates clinked. Chairs scraped. Owls swooped in through the tall windows in loose formations, feathers fluttering and talons gripping letters and parcels.
Breakfast had become a small kind of chaos.
A second-year screamed when a tawny owl landed directly in his porridge.
Someone at the Ravenclaw table was arguing loudly about Arithmancy homework.
Down the Gryffindor table, Sirius Black had his feet on the bench and was attempting to butter toast while half-asleep.
“Why,” Sirius muttered, squinting at the butter knife like it had personally betrayed him, “does morning exist.”
“Because you stayed up until three in the morning playing exploding snap,” Remus Lupin said mildly from beside him.
“That was academic research.”
“Into what?”
“The structural weaknesses of Remus Lupin’s patience.”
Across from them, James Potter snorted into his pumpkin juice.
“You nearly blew up the common room.”
“It was controlled experimentation.”
“You set Peter’s sleeve on fire.”
Peter Pettigrew, who was currently shovelling eggs into his mouth like a man who feared starvation was imminent, pointed accusingly with a sausage.
“It was a good sleeve!”
Further down the table, Lily Evans was trying very hard not to smile while Mary Macdonald and Marlene McKinnon were deep in animated conversation about a Quidditch practice disaster from the night before.
“I’m telling you,” Marlene insisted, gesturing wildly with a fork, “the wind absolutely did that on purpose.”
“The wind,” Lily said slowly, “does not have a vendetta against you.”
“It does when you’re me.”
Beside them, Alice Fortescue leaned against Frank Longbottom’s shoulder while he read a Daily Prophet article aloud with increasing disbelief.
“‘Ministry officials assure the public the situation abroad remains under control,’” Frank read.
“Which means,” Fabian Prewett said from across the table, “it is very much not under control.”
His twin brother Gideon Prewett nodded solemnly.
“That is historically how those sentences work.”
Laughter rippled down the table.
The morning was warm and noisy and comfortably ordinary.
Across the hall, the Slytherin table was equally alive with breakfast chatter, though the atmosphere there had its own particular rhythm.
Near the centre sat Regulus Black and his usual cluster of friends.
Regulus looked immaculate as always despite the early hour: dark curls still slightly messy from sleep, pale face sharp against the black and green of his uniform, grey eyes alert in a way that suggested he had been awake far longer than anyone else present.
Beside him lounged Barty Crouch Jr., already halfway through a stack of toast and aggressively stirring sugar into his tea.
“You know,” Barty said conversationally, “I’m fairly certain tea should not crunch.”
“It’s not supposed to,” Evan Rosier said.
“Then explain the sugar.”
“You put six spoons in it.”
Barty shrugged.
“I live dangerously.”
Across from them, Pandora Rosier was dismantling a croissant with intense curiosity, examining the layers like a scientist inspecting some fragile pastry-based phenomenon.
“Do you think,” she mused, “if you folded enough butter into something it would eventually become entirely butter.”
Dorcas Meadowes blinked slowly.
“Pandora.”
“Yes?”
“That is already what butter is.”
Pandora paused.
“Hm.”
Regulus, meanwhile, had been peacefully eating toast and reading a book propped against the sugar bowl.
It was a surprisingly quiet morning.
Then the owls arrived.
Dozens of them swept through the open windows in a rush of wings and feathers, circling above the hall before descending toward their intended recipients.
Letters dropped.
Packages thumped.
One particularly ambitious barn owl attempted to land on the chandelier.
A sleek grey owl glided down toward the Slytherin table.
It landed neatly beside Regulus’s plate and extended one leg.
Regulus blinked.
“Well,” Barty said, leaning over immediately, “that’s suspicious.”
Regulus untied the letter.
At first he assumed it was from his parents.
The envelope had that official, heavy sort of parchment the Blacks favoured. The writing looked formal.
But as he turned it over his brow furrowed.
“That’s odd,” he murmured.
Evan glanced up.
“What?”
Regulus turned the envelope slowly, studying the postage.
“This isn’t from home.”
Pandora leaned across the table.
“Who is it from?”
“No idea.”
Dorcas rested her chin on her hand.
“Open it.”
Regulus slid a finger beneath the seal and unfolded the letter.
He began reading silently.
At first nothing changed.
His expression remained neutral.
Then his eyebrows drew together.
His mouth flattened.
His eyes moved faster across the page.
Barty noticed first.
“…Why do you look like that.”
Regulus kept reading.
His face went still.
Then his eyes widened.
Then his jaw tightened.
Then his expression shifted into something between disbelief and pure fury.
Across the table Pandora tilted her head.
“Regulus.”
Still nothing.
He finished the final line.
For a moment he just stared at the page.
Then—
“MOTHERFUCKERS.”
The shout echoed across the entire Great Hall.
Forks clattered.
Conversations stopped.
Half the hall whipped around.
At the Gryffindor table Sirius nearly fell off the bench.
“What the hell—”
Regulus slammed the letter onto the table.
Barty recoiled.
“Jesus—what happened?!”
Evan grabbed the parchment.
“What is it?”
Regulus shoved a hand through his hair, pacing two furious steps beside the bench.
“It’s a fucking draft letter.”
Pandora blinked.
“…A what.”
“A draft letter,” Regulus snapped. “From the British Army.”
Dorcas straightened immediately.
“Wait—what?”
Evan scanned the page.
Then his eyes widened.
“Oh.”
“Oh?” Barty repeated.
“Oh?!”
Evan held up the letter.
“They’re drafting him.”
The table exploded.
“THEY’RE WHAT?” Barty yelled.
Pandora grabbed the parchment and read it rapidly.
Her eyebrows climbed higher with each line.
“They want you to come in for—what is this—”
She squinted.
“‘An evaluation meeting to determine suitability for military service.’”
Dorcas snatched the letter next.
“They want to run psych tests?”
Barty leaned over her shoulder.
“And physical exams.”
“And medical screening.”
“And—”
Dorcas stared.
“They’re deciding what branch of the army to put you in.”
Regulus groaned loudly.
“Exactly.”
Pandora looked up.
“You’re joking.”
“I wish I was.”
Across the hall the Gryffindors had completely abandoned breakfast.
Sirius was already halfway down the aisle.
“What the hell did you just shout about?” he demanded.
James followed immediately behind him.
“Sounded serious.”
Remus arrived seconds later with Lily and the rest of the group trailing close behind.
“What happened?” Lily asked.
Dorcas handed Sirius the letter.
“Read that.”
Sirius scanned it.
Then blinked.
Then read it again.
“…No.”
James grabbed it from him.
“No what?”
He read the first line.
His jaw dropped.
“You’re kidding.”
“What?” Peter squeaked.
“They’re drafting him,” James said.
The Gryffindor group erupted.
“WHAT?!” Marlene shouted.
“THE ARMY?!” Fabian yelled.
Frank grabbed the letter next.
“Is this real?”
“It’s very real,” Regulus muttered darkly.
Lily read the middle paragraph.
“They want you to attend a meeting next week.”
Remus leaned over her shoulder.
“And if he doesn’t…”
He paused.
“Reg.”
Regulus threw his hands up.
“Yeah.”
Alice read the line aloud.
“‘Failure to attend this mandatory appointment will result in fines and potential imprisonment.’”
The entire hall went silent around them.
Then everyone started yelling at once.
“You can’t go to jail!” Peter cried.
“They can’t just draft you!” Marlene snapped.
“Can they even do that?” Gideon demanded.
Fabian leaned across the table.
“Regulus you’re seventeen!”
“Exactly,” Regulus said bitterly.
“That’s the fucking point.”
James looked horrified.
“You’re serious?”
“I am extremely serious.”
Sirius stared at his brother.
“You’re being conscripted.”
“Yes.”
“You.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t even like running.”
“I hate running.”
Remus rubbed his temples.
“They want you for military service.”
“They want me for anything,” Regulus snapped.
“They’re desperate.”
Pandora waved the letter.
“They literally say they’re going to run psychological assessments and physical exams.”
Barty pointed.
“And then assign him to a branch.”
“Bootcamp,” Dorcas added.
Regulus groaned again.
“They’re putting me through bootcamp.”
The Gryffindors collectively lost their minds.
“THIS IS INSANE,” Marlene shouted.
“You can’t go to war!” Mary said.
Fabian leaned toward Regulus.
“You could die!”
Regulus slumped into the bench.
“I know.”
James looked pale.
“They’re just… forcing you?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t get a choice?”
“No.”
Remus read the final paragraph again.
“They’re requiring attendance.”
“Exactly,” Regulus said.
“If I don’t show up I get fined.”
“And jailed,” Lily added.
“And jailed.”
Sirius stared at him.
“…You’re joking.”
“I am not joking.”
“What if you fail the tests?”
Regulus let out a humorless laugh.
“Do I look medically unfit to you?”
Sirius hesitated.
“…Annoyingly no.”
“Exactly.”
“They’re going to pass you.”
“They’re absolutely going to pass me.”
Barty pointed dramatically.
“Tell them you’re insane.”
Regulus groaned.
“I literally told you — even if I said if they gave me a gun I’d shoot another soldier or myself it wouldn’t matter.”
Everyone stared.
“They’re that desperate,” Regulus finished.
Pandora nodded solemnly.
“That sounds historically accurate.”
Dorcas leaned back in her chair.
“This is a disaster.”
Across the hall students were whispering furiously.
Word spread like wildfire.
“Did you hear?”
“Regulus Black got drafted!”
“The army?!”
“Are you serious?!”
At the Gryffindor table the chaos reached full volume.
“You can’t just leave Hogwarts!” Peter said.
“Can they even draft students?” Gideon demanded.
“They absolutely cannot have Regulus with a firearm,” Fabian added.
James pointed.
“That’s a safety hazard.”
“Thank you,” Regulus said bitterly.
Sirius looked like he might explode.
“No.”
Regulus blinked.
“No what.”
“You’re not going.”
Regulus gestured at the letter.
“I have to go.”
“No.”
“If I don’t go I get jailed.”
Sirius crossed his arms stubbornly.
“Then we break you out.”
Remus sighed.
“Let’s not immediately escalate to prison break plans.”
Lily rubbed her forehead.
“This is ridiculous.”
Barty pointed at Regulus.
“You would absolutely shoot a commanding officer.”
“Correct.”
“And then escape.”
“Also correct.”
Pandora tilted her head.
“Could you simply pretend to be extremely incompetent.”
Dorcas nodded.
“That might work.”
Regulus considered.
“…I could trip over things.”
James looked horrified.
“They’re still going to put you through bootcamp.”
“I know.”
Everyone began shouting again.
Strategies flew around the table.
Fake illnesses.
Forged documents.
Running away.
Pandora suggested living in a tree.
Through it all Regulus sat with his head in his hands, groaning.
“This is a nightmare.”
Sirius slammed his palms on the table.
“No one is drafting my little brother.”
Regulus looked up tiredly.
“They literally already did.”
Sirius grabbed the letter again like it had personally insulted him.
“We are fixing this.”
Remus sighed again.
“Somehow.”
James leaned across the table.
“First step.”
“What.”
James pointed.
“We do not panic.”
The entire group continued screaming.
James winced.
“…Second step.”
“What.”
“We panic slightly less.”
Regulus buried his face in his hands.
“Someone please kill me before the army does.”
The Great Hall never truly returned to normal after the letter.
Breakfast technically continued.
Food was still being eaten. Plates were still refilling themselves. Owls still swooped through the enchanted ceiling.
But the centre of the hall had become a war council.
And the war in question was Regulus Black versus the British Army.
Regulus sat slumped sideways on the Slytherin bench with his head resting against Evan’s shoulder like a man who had just been informed the universe personally hated him.
“I’m thinking,” Regulus muttered darkly, staring at the letter again, “prison might actually be the better option.”
Sirius immediately whipped around.
“No.”
Regulus didn’t even look up.
“Think about it.”
“No.”
“Jail is finite.”
“Regulus—”
“Army service is not.”
Evan leaned back slightly, clearly enjoying the conversation far more than he should.
“Well,” Evan said thoughtfully, “there are upsides to prison.”
Regulus groaned.
“Oh my god.”
Everyone looked at Evan.
“What upsides,” Dorcas asked flatly.
Evan held up a finger.
“Option one.”
He pointed at Regulus.
“You beat the absolute shit out of the biggest guy in the prison yard.”
Regulus rubbed his face.
“Please stop.”
“You establish dominance.”
Pandora nodded thoughtfully.
“That does seem effective.”
“Option two,” Evan continued calmly, “you immediately become someone’s bitch.”
The table went silent.
Then Barty snorted violently.
“Oh my god.”
Evan gestured at Regulus again.
“Look at him.”
Regulus slowly lowered his hands.
“Do not.”
“He’s slim.”
“Evan—”
“He’s pretty.”
“Evan—”
“He’d thrive.”
Barty was now wheezing.
“He would thrive.”
Evan leaned forward, examining Regulus like a scientist.
“I genuinely believe Regulus could achieve both outcomes.”
James choked on his pumpkin juice.
Sirius looked like he might commit homicide.
“You are not going to prison.”
Regulus shrugged weakly.
“I’m just saying.”
Dorcas rubbed her temples.
“This conversation is already exhausting.”
Remus folded his arms.
“Before we plan prison dominance strategies, perhaps we should determine if there is any way to avoid both options.”
Lily nodded sharply.
“Agreed.”
Mary leaned forward.
“Right.”
Frank pointed at Regulus.
“First question.”
Everyone looked at him.
“Do you have any medical issues.”
Regulus blinked.
“…No.”
“None?”
“None.”
Alice leaned closer.
“Chronic illness?”
“No.”
“Heart problems?”
“No.”
“Breathing problems?”
“No.”
“Vision problems?”
“My eyesight is perfect.”
Fabian groaned loudly.
“Of course it is.”
Gideon pointed accusingly.
“You look like someone who would have perfect eyesight.”
Pandora leaned forward.
“What about allergies.”
Regulus frowned.
“I sneeze around cats.”
The entire table went quiet.
Dorcas slowly turned.
“…Do you think the army will reject him because of cats.”
Pandora considered.
“Probably not.”
“Right.”
Remus sighed.
“Any injuries?”
“No.”
“Broken bones?”
“No.”
“Concussions?”
“No.”
Evan leaned back dramatically.
“This is infuriating.”
Barty pointed.
“You’re telling me this man has never been medically compromised.”
Regulus spread his hands.
“I am sorry for being functional.”
Marlene groaned.
“Why are you so healthy.”
James leaned across the table.
“Okay.”
He cracked his knuckles.
“Next category.”
Everyone looked at him.
“Physical fitness.”
Regulus frowned.
“…Why.”
James stood.
“Because if you’re physically unfit they might reject you.”
Sirius immediately grabbed Regulus by the arm.
“Up.”
Regulus blinked.
“What.”
“You’re doing push-ups.”
“Why am I doing push-ups.”
“To see if you fail.”
Barty slapped the table.
“Yes.”
Dorcas sighed.
“This is ridiculous.”
But Regulus was already being dragged into the aisle between the tables.
“Down,” Sirius ordered.
Regulus stared at him.
“You are aware I exercise regularly.”
“DOWN.”
Regulus sighed and dropped to the floor.
“Fine.”
“Push-ups,” James said.
Regulus started.
One.
Two.
Three.
Ten.
Twenty.
Thirty.
He didn’t slow down.
James frowned.
“Keep going.”
Forty.
Fifty.
Sixty.
Regulus stopped and looked up.
“Are we done.”
The Gryffindors groaned collectively.
“DAMN IT.”
Fabian kicked a bench leg.
“Why are you so strong.”
Regulus stood and brushed off his hands.
“I play Quidditch.”
Sirius pointed again.
“Sit-ups.”
Regulus sighed again but complied.
Thirty.
Forty.
Fifty.
“Stop,” Remus said quietly.
Regulus sat up.
“…What.”
Remus looked deeply tired.
“You’re extremely fit.”
“Thank you.”
“That is not a compliment in this situation.”
Evan leaned toward Barty.
“He’s doomed.”
“Absolutely doomed.”
Frank crossed his arms.
“Run.”
Regulus blinked.
“…What.”
“Run down the hall.”
Regulus stared.
“Why.”
“Just run.”
Regulus rolled his eyes and jogged halfway down the aisle and back.
He wasn’t even breathing hard.
The group collectively groaned.
“This is awful,” Mary said.
Lily rubbed her face.
“You are literally the exact kind of person they want.”
Regulus sat back down miserably.
“I know.”
Pandora tapped the letter thoughtfully.
“And you cannot fake anything.”
“No.”
“They will have your records.”
“Yes.”
“Medical files.”
“Yes.”
“School records.”
“Yes.”
“Everything.”
“Yes.”
Dorcas groaned.
“This is impossible.”
Remus leaned forward.
“Alright.”
Everyone looked at him.
“If medical, mental, and physical exemptions won’t work…”
James nodded.
“Then we need other ways people historically avoid conscription.”
Pandora’s eyes lit up.
“Oh.”
Everyone looked at her.
“What.”
Pandora raised a finger.
“Education deferment.”
Lily nodded slowly.
“That’s real.”
“If you’re in full-time education they sometimes delay service.”
Regulus slumped.
“I already am in full-time education.”
Barty snapped his fingers.
“Religious exemption.”
Everyone looked at him.
Regulus raised an eyebrow.
“You want me to become a monk.”
Barty shrugged.
“Worth a shot.”
Remus shook his head.
“They verify those.”
Fabian raised a hand.
“Conscientious objection.”
Lily nodded.
“That’s a real one.”
James blinked.
“What’s that.”
“You refuse military service for moral reasons.”
Sirius frowned.
“They’ll believe that from Regulus?”
Everyone slowly looked at Regulus.
Regulus blinked.
“…What.”
Dorcas tilted her head.
“You would absolutely shoot someone.”
“Correct.”
Remus sighed.
“They will not believe that objection.”
Gideon raised another possibility.
“Essential occupation.”
Frank nodded.
“If your job is critical to the country.”
Mary blinked.
“He’s a Hogwarts student.”
“Right.”
Pandora raised another finger.
“Family hardship.”
“Meaning?” Alice asked.
“If your family relies on you.”
Everyone slowly turned toward Sirius.
Sirius stared back.
“…What.”
Pandora gestured between them.
“You are brothers.”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps you are emotionally dependent.”
Sirius paused.
“…I refuse to be part of that lie.”
Evan leaned back again.
“Honestly prison is sounding more viable.”
Regulus nodded slowly.
“Thank you.”
Sirius slammed the table.
“NO ONE IS GOING TO PRISON.”
James looked at Regulus thoughtfully.
“You know what’s worse.”
“What.”
“You’re fit.”
Regulus stared at him.
“Yes.”
“That means…”
Remus finished the thought quietly.
“They’ll probably send you to the front.”
The table fell silent.
Even Regulus looked uneasy.
Barty exhaled slowly.
“…Yeah.”
Dorcas nodded grimly.
“If he were less athletic they might assign him to support roles.”
“Medical.”
“Logistics.”
“Intelligence.”
“Photography.”
Pandora looked at Regulus.
“But you’re fast.”
“And strong.”
“And coordinated.”
Regulus rubbed his face again.
“So I’m doomed.”
Sirius stared across the table.
“No.”
Regulus sighed.
“We’re back to prison.”
“NO.”
James leaned back slowly.
“Well.”
Everyone looked at him.
“We still don’t know one thing.”
“What.”
James tapped the letter.
“Which branch.”
The table went quiet again.
Evan spoke first.
“Army.”
Barty shook his head.
“Royal Navy.”
Dorcas shrugged.
“Royal Marines.”
Pandora tilted her head.
“Royal Air Force.”
Everyone looked at Regulus.
Regulus stared into the distance.
“…I hate this.”
Sirius leaned forward slowly.
“You know what’s worse.”
“What.”
“I can see you in all of them.”
James nodded.
“Honestly same.”
Evan grinned.
“Pilot Regulus would be terrifying.”
“Marine Regulus would start fights.”
“Army Regulus would survive purely out of spite.”
Pandora smiled dreamily.
“Navy Regulus would look good in the uniform.”
Regulus dropped his head onto the table.
“This is my villain origin story.”