Archive of Our Own

The lesson had died forty minutes before the professor realised it.

It had not ended. That would have been kinder. It had not concluded, not naturally, not with grace, not with anything so merciful as a bell or an explosion or Peeves hurling a suit of armour down the corridor.

It had simply died.

A slow death.

A grey death.

A death by chalk dust.

Professor Wilberforce stood at the front of the classroom in robes the colour of wet parchment, tapping the blackboard with the end of his wand while a diagram of spell channels sprawled behind him like an injured spider. His voice had settled into the same rhythm as the rain against the windows: soft, repetitive, nearly hypnotic, the kind of sound that made even breathing feel like too much effort.

“—and so, when a charm is layered through emotional intent rather than verbal precision, the magical current is not technically split, but redirected through a secondary resonance—”

James Potter had his cheek pressed against the desk.

His glasses were crooked. One arm dangled toward the floor. His quill had rolled under his elbow and was leaking ink into his sleeve.

“I’m dying,” he whispered.

Beside him, Sirius Black did not lift his head. He was slumped so low in his chair that he looked boneless, all long limbs and dramatic despair, his chin tipped toward the ceiling and his eyes half-lidded.

“No,” Sirius whispered back. “Death has dignity. This is worse.”

Peter Pettigrew, who had spent the last ten minutes drawing increasingly miserable little stick figures being attacked by punctuation marks in the margin of his notes, glanced up anxiously.

“Do you think he knows nobody’s listening?”

Remus Lupin, still upright through sheer moral stubbornness, blinked slowly at the board. His notes were neat for the first two paragraphs and then had gradually collapsed into one long line that read secondary resonance?? ask someone conscious.

“I think,” Remus murmured, “he’s not listening either.”

Lily Evans was trying.

That was the terrible thing. Lily was genuinely trying. Her chin rested on her hand, her red hair falling forward over one shoulder, eyes narrowed at the board with the sort of fierce determination usually reserved for exams, duels, and James Potter’s worst ideas.

After another full minute of Wilberforce saying words that sounded like English but behaved like fog, Lily’s quill slowly lowered.

Mary Macdonald noticed immediately.

“Oh, thank God,” Mary whispered. “Even Lily’s gone.”

“I have not gone,” Lily hissed.

“You wrote ‘resonance’ four times and then drew a very angry mushroom.”

Lily looked down.

There was, in fact, a very angry mushroom in the middle of her parchment.

Marlene McKinnon leaned over from Lily’s other side, squinting.

“Looks like Potter.”

James lifted his head just enough to look offended.

“That mushroom has no charisma.”

“It has exactly your hair.”

Frank Longbottom coughed into his fist to hide a laugh. Alice Fortescue, sitting beside him with her quill tucked neatly behind her ear, had been staring at the same sentence in her textbook for so long that the words seemed to have rearranged themselves into a cry for help.

Fabian Prewett had built a small tower out of three ink bottles, two folded notes, and Gideon’s spare quill.

Gideon Prewett watched the tower wobble with the grave concentration of a man overseeing a bridge in a storm.

“If this falls,” Fabian whispered, “it represents the ministry.”

Gideon nodded solemnly. “Fragile. Overcomplicated. Full of ink.”

At the other side of the room, the Slytherin and Ravenclaw cluster was no livelier.

Regulus Black sat straight-backed in his seat, because apparently boredom had not yet defeated pure-blood posture. His hands were folded neatly over his parchment. His expression was calm, pale, and distant, as though his mind had politely left the classroom and gone somewhere far more tasteful.

Evan Rosier had drawn a noose around the title of the lesson.

Pandora Rosier, beside him in Ravenclaw blue, had turned her notes sideways and was writing something in tiny looping letters around the edge of the parchment. Her eyes were bright but unfocused, as if she had begun the lesson in the room and gradually wandered away into some glittering private weather system.

Barty Crouch Jr. was chewing the end of his quill with a violence that suggested the quill had wronged his family.

Dorcas Meadowes was not pretending to listen. She sat with her arms folded, chin lifted, looking directly at Professor Wilberforce with open, regal irritation.

“This is a punishment,” Dorcas muttered.

Barty spat a feather onto his desk. “For what?”

“Existing, apparently.”

Evan leaned toward Pandora without looking away from the professor.

“If I die here, tell everyone I was murdered.”

Pandora did not look up from her sideways writing.

“By boredom?”

“By him.”

“That’s still boredom.”

“It counts.”

Regulus’s mouth twitched.

Barely.

Sirius saw it from across the room because Sirius, despite looking half-dead, had a deeply inconvenient instinct for noticing every small change in Regulus Black’s face. He nudged James.

“Regulus smiled.”

James blinked blearily. “Did he?”

“Almost.”

“Alert the Prophet.”

“Shut up.”

At the front of the room, Professor Wilberforce finally seemed to realise that his class had become a field of corpses.

He stopped mid-sentence.

The chalk paused against the board.

Slowly, he turned.

A terrible brightness came into his eyes.

“Oh,” Remus said under his breath.

James lifted his head. “What?”

“That look.”

“What look?”

“The ‘practical demonstration’ look.”

The words had barely left Remus’s mouth when Professor Wilberforce clapped his hands together.

“Right!” he announced, with a forced cheeriness that made half the room flinch. “Perhaps a practical demonstration will make the principle clearer.”

A ripple of movement passed through the classroom.

Not interest exactly.

More like collective dread standing up and stretching.

Mary sat back. “Absolutely not.”

Marlene grinned. “Absolutely yes.”

Lily straightened in her chair. “Professor, what exactly are you demonstrating?”

“An elementary regression of magical charge through emotional echo,” said Wilberforce, already rolling up his sleeves. “Perfectly safe when properly controlled.”

“Those are cursed words,” Frank said.

Alice nodded. “Very cursed.”

Fabian leaned toward Gideon. “If I turn into a teapot, avenge me.”

“If you turn into a teapot, I’m using you.”

“You would.”

“I’d have to. Times are hard.”

Professor Wilberforce flicked his wand toward the centre of the classroom. Desks scraped backward of their own accord, creating a rough open space. Several students made noises of complaint as inkpots wobbled and parchment slid.

“Now,” said the professor, stepping into the cleared area, “observe the way the initial current gathers.”

A thin silver-blue thread of magic curled from his wand.

It shimmered in the air, delicate and glassy, twisting into a small orb no larger than a Snitch.

For one second, it was beautiful.

Soft.

Controlled.

Almost impressive.

Pandora sat up slightly, head tilting.

“Oh,” she whispered. “Pretty.”

Barty stopped chewing his quill.

Dorcas narrowed her eyes as if judging whether the orb had permission to exist.

Regulus watched silently.

Professor Wilberforce smiled, encouraged.

“You see? A stable channel. Nothing dangerous. The emotional imprint remains contained inside the—”

The orb made a noise like a hiccup.

Remus went very still.

“Professor,” he said.

The orb pulsed.

Once.

Twice.

Then it swelled to the size of a Quaffle.

Professor Wilberforce’s smile froze.

“Ah.”

James sat up. “Ah?”

Lily’s eyes widened. “Professor?”

The orb sparked.

Silver-blue light spat outward in thin, bright veins.

Professor Wilberforce lifted his wand sharply.

“Everyone remain calm—”

The orb exploded.

The classroom erupted.

The sound cracked through the room like a thunderclap trapped under glass. Light burst outward in every direction. Students screamed and ducked as beams of magic ricocheted off desks, shelves, windowpanes, and the blackboard with sharp, sizzling pings.

James threw himself sideways and dragged Peter down with him.

“Down!”

Peter shrieked. “I am down!”

“You’re not down enough!”

Sirius cursed and ducked as a beam shot over his head, close enough to lift his hair.

“Bloody hell!”

Remus shoved his chair over and dropped behind it, pulling Lily with one hand and Mary with the other.

“Move!”

“I am moving!” Mary yelled.

Marlene laughed once, wild and delighted, before a beam blasted a hole through the parchment in front of her and she hit the floor so fast her chair toppled after her.

Frank grabbed Alice around the waist and yanked her behind a desk.

Alice gasped. “My notes!”

Frank looked at the spell beams bouncing like lightning around the room. “Your notes can die bravely!”

Fabian and Gideon both dove under their desk at the same time and knocked shoulders.

“Ow!”

“That was your fault!”

“How was that my fault?”

“You have very aggressive elbows!”

The spell hit the blackboard and split.

Then split again.

And again.

Suddenly there were not one or two beams, but five.

Five sharp streaks of silver-blue magic darted through the room like living things.

They ping-ponged off the ceiling.

Off a shelf.

Off a suit of practice armour in the corner.

Off the edge of Professor Wilberforce’s own desk, which made him yelp and stagger backward.

Then all five beams curved.

Not randomly.

Not wildly.

With sudden, horrifying precision.

Toward Regulus Black and his friends.

Barty saw one coming and gave a strangled yell.

“NOPE—”

It hit him square in the chest.

A second beam slammed into Pandora as she half-rose from her seat.

A third struck Evan, knocking him backward so hard his chair scraped and toppled.

The fourth caught Dorcas in a flash of blue-white light.

The fifth hit Regulus.

For one suspended second, all five of them glowed.

Then they were thrown backward and hit the floor.

The room went silent.

Not quiet.

Silent.

The kind of silence that comes after a window shatters, before anyone dares check who is bleeding.

“Regulus!” Sirius shouted.

He was already moving.

James scrambled after him. Remus pushed himself up from behind the chair. Lily was on her feet in an instant, wand out. Mary followed, pale and wide-eyed. Marlene vaulted over a fallen chair.

Frank helped Alice up, both of them rushing forward.

Fabian and Gideon crawled out from under their desk and bolted after the others.

Professor Wilberforce stood frozen, wand still smoking.

“Oh dear,” he whispered.

“Move!” Lily snapped at him.

That seemed to break whatever spell shock had put on the room.

Everyone surged toward the five figures sprawled across the floor between the desks.

Barty lay face-down in a heap of Ravenclaw robes.

Pandora was curled on her side, silver-blonde hair spilled across her cheek.

Evan had landed half under a desk.

Dorcas was flat on her back, arms spread.

Regulus was small and still near the edge of the open space.

Too small.

Sirius stopped so abruptly James nearly crashed into him.

“What the fuck,” Sirius breathed.

The words dropped into the room like stones.

Because Barty Crouch Jr. was no longer sixteen.

Neither was Pandora.

Neither was Evan.

Neither was Dorcas.

Neither was Regulus.

They were children.

Tiny children.

All five of them.

Their uniforms had shrunk with them, thank Merlin or magic or whatever strange mercy had decided not to make the situation worse. Small robes. Small ties. Small shirts. Small polished shoes. Tiny house colours still bright at their throats: Ravenclaw blue on Barty and Pandora, Slytherin green on Regulus, Evan, and Dorcas.

But their faces—

Their faces were rounder. Softer. Younger. Stripped of all the sharpness that age, family, politics, pride, and pain had carved into them.

Barty pushed himself up first.

He was little, all elbows and wild hair, his dark curls sticking up in every direction like he had been dragged backwards through a hedge. His cheeks were flushed. His tie was already crooked. There was ink on one small hand and a scuff on his knee, though neither had been there a second ago. When he opened his mouth to yell, there was a gap where one front tooth should have been.

“WHAT WAS THAT?”

His voice was high.

Childish.

Furious.

Peter made a faint squeaking sound.

Barty looked around the room, eyes huge and bright and feral.

Then he scrambled to his feet and immediately ran.

“Barty!” Lily shouted, though she had no idea what else to do.

The small boy bolted between two desks with manic speed, laughing and shrieking at the same time.

“No! No! No! You can’t catch me!”

James stared after him. “Was he always like that?”

Remus said, “Apparently.”

Dorcas sat up next.

Her hair was shorter now, puffing around her small face in soft dark curls. Her Slytherin robes sat perfectly on her tiny shoulders despite the chaos. She blinked once, looked around at the crowd of older students, and immediately lifted her chin.

“Why are you all standing over me?”

Alice froze. “Dorcas?”

Little Dorcas frowned.

“That’s my name.”

Frank crouched slightly, careful and gentle. “Are you all right?”

Dorcas looked him up and down as though he had applied for a position and failed the interview.

“You may be my servant.”

Frank blinked.

Fabian choked.

Gideon slapped a hand over his mouth.

Dorcas pointed at Alice. “You too. You look useful.”

Alice’s mouth fell open.

Mary whispered, “Oh, she’s terrifying.”

Dorcas nodded, satisfied, and stood with the gravity of a queen taking her throne. She brushed down her tiny robes, turned, and pointed at Marlene.

“You can carry things.”

Marlene’s eyebrows shot up. “Can I?”

“Yes.”

“I’m honoured?”

“You should be.”

Meanwhile, Evan and Pandora had woken at the same time.

They were unmistakably twins now.

Painfully, startlingly so.

Both small and pale and sharp-eyed, with matching delicate faces and bright hair that fell messily around their cheeks. Pandora’s Ravenclaw tie was neat despite everything. Evan’s Slytherin tie was twisted halfway under his collar. They stared at one another first, ignoring every single person around them.

Pandora blinked.

Evan blinked back.

Then both of them smiled.

Not sweetly.

Dangerously.

“Evan,” Pandora said.

“Pandora,” Evan said.

Then they lunged at each other.

Not in fear.

Not in confusion.

In immediate, delighted violence.

They grabbed at each other’s sleeves, shoved, giggled, squealed, and tumbled sideways into a desk leg.

“Mine!” Pandora shrieked, though she did not appear to be holding anything.

“No, mine!” Evan shouted back, equally empty-handed.

“You always do that!”

“You always do that!”

“No, you!”

“No, you!”

They rolled into a chair. It scraped loudly.

“Careful!” Remus said, rushing toward them.

Neither twin noticed.

Pandora shoved Evan’s shoulder. Evan shoved her back. Both of them laughed, loud and bright and feral, completely absorbed in their own strange twin universe.

Mary stood with both hands in her hair.

“They’re fighting over nothing.”

James watched Evan attempt to sit on Pandora’s foot while Pandora tried to pull his sleeve over his hand.

“No, I think nothing is winning.”

Barty shot past them again, cackling.

Sirius turned in a full circle, overwhelmed. “Where’s Regulus?”

The name seemed to slice through the noise.

For half a second, everyone looked back at the place where Regulus had fallen.

He was not there.

Sirius’s face changed.

All the colour went out of him.

“Regulus?”

James straightened sharply. “He was just there.”

“He’s tiny,” Peter said, voice cracking. “He could be under something.”

Sirius rounded on him. “Don’t say that!”

“I’m sorry!”

Lily turned, scanning the room quickly. “Everyone look. Now.”

The classroom had become a disaster.

Desks had been shoved aside or overturned. Parchment littered the floor. Ink had splashed across one flagstone. The spell had left little smoking marks along the walls. Barty was still running in circles, Dorcas was assigning servants, and Evan and Pandora were making enough noise for six children.

Regulus, somehow, had vanished into the quiet.

“Reg!” Sirius called, too loud, too frantic.

No answer.

Not even a whisper.

“Regulus Arcturus Black,” Sirius said, voice shaking into anger because fear had nowhere else to go, “if you are hiding, I swear—”

“Sirius,” Remus said quietly.

“What?”

Remus pointed.

Near the far end of the classroom, half behind the leg of a desk, sat a very small boy in Slytherin robes.

Regulus.

He had not gone far at all.

He had simply moved out of the open space, away from the noise, away from the crowd, and folded himself into a small, neat curl on the floor.

He was the smallest of the five.

Painfully small.

Younger-looking than the others somehow, or perhaps just built finer, with narrow shoulders, little hands, and a face too delicate for the stiff seriousness already trying to settle over it. His black hair, usually sleek and severe, was soft now, falling in loose, glossy waves over his forehead and brushing the tops of his ears. His cheeks were rounder. His eyes looked enormous, grey and watchful beneath dark lashes. His tiny Slytherin tie was perfectly straight. His little shoes were polished.

He sat with one knee drawn up, one shoe planted awkwardly against the floor, both small hands occupied with his laces.

He was not crying.

He was not running.

He was not shouting.

He was simply trying, with intense and silent concentration, to tie his shoe.

The lace slipped loose.

Regulus stared at it.

His lower lip pushed out slightly.

He tried again.

Loop.

Pull.

Collapse.

His small brows knitted.

Again.

Loop.

Tug.

The knot came undone in his hands.

His mouth wobbled.

A tiny sniffle escaped him.

The entire room seemed to soften around that sound.

Sirius looked as if someone had punched straight through his ribs.

“Oh,” Lily whispered.

James’s voice was barely audible. “Bloody hell.”

Regulus did not look up. He seemed entirely unaware of the older students staring at him, too focused on the lace that would not obey.

His small fingers pinched the end of it clumsily.

He whispered something.

Sirius took one step forward.

Regulus immediately went still.

Not frightened exactly.

Just alert.

His eyes lifted.

He looked at Sirius with no recognition at all.

None.

No annoyance. No guarded bitterness. No cold younger-brother glare. No history. No sharp little blade hidden behind politeness.

Just a small child looking at a stranger.

Sirius stopped like he had hit a wall.

Regulus tucked his chin down slightly.

“Hello,” Lily said softly, stepping in before Sirius could do something reckless or devastating or both.

Regulus’s gaze shifted to her.

He blinked.

Lily crouched a careful distance away, keeping her hands visible.

“Are you all right?”

Regulus looked at her.

Then down at his laces.

Then, very softly, he whispered, “It won’t stay.”

His voice was tiny.

Quiet as dust in sunlight.

Sirius made a wounded sound and turned sharply away, dragging a hand through his hair.

James moved close beside him, shoulder brushing his.

“Mate,” James said under his breath.

Sirius shook his head.

“He doesn’t know me.”

James did not answer.

There was no answer that would not make it worse.

Behind them, Barty scrambled onto a desk.

“LOOK!”

“Get down!” Mary shouted.

“No!”

“Barty, get down!”

“You’re not my mum!”

“I’m not trying to be!”

“You sound like one!”

Mary gasped. “Excuse you!”

Barty laughed wildly, showing the gap in his teeth, then leapt off the desk before Mary could reach him.

Peter yelped and barely caught him by the back of his tiny robe.

“Got him!”

Barty twisted like an eel.

“No you don’t!”

Peter’s eyes went huge as Barty wriggled halfway out of his grip.

“He’s slippery!”

Marlene darted in and grabbed Barty around the middle, lifting him off the floor.

Barty shrieked with laughter and kicked his legs.

“Put me down! Put me down! Put me down or I’ll bite!”

Marlene held him at arm’s length.

“Does he mean that?”

Remus, watching Barty bare his teeth, said, “I would assume yes.”

Dorcas clapped her hands sharply.

“Servants! Stop that boy.”

Frank turned to Alice.

“Are we servants now?”

Alice sighed. “Apparently.”

Dorcas pointed at Fabian and Gideon.

“You two. Stand there.”

Fabian looked delighted. “Why?”

“Because I said.”

Gideon bowed dramatically. “As you command, tiny tyrant.”

Dorcas narrowed her eyes.

“I am not tiny.”

Gideon straightened. “Of course not.”

“You may be the better servant.”

Fabian put a hand to his chest. “Wounded.”

“You can be the loud one.”

“That’s fair.”

Across the floor, Evan and Pandora had managed to sit opposite each other and were now slapping their hands against the flagstones in some kind of rhythm only they understood.

“Again,” Pandora demanded.

Evan copied her exactly.

Tap tap. Slap. Tap.

“No, wrong!”

“You did it wrong!”

“No, you copied wrong!”

“You made it bad first!”

Pandora gasped, offended to her soul. “I did not!”

Evan leaned forward until their foreheads nearly touched.

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

Then both of them screamed, not in distress, but in shared feral joy, and slapped the floor again.

Remus closed his eyes for one brief second.

“This is a lot.”

Lily, still crouched in front of Regulus, glanced over her shoulder.

“Professor Wilberforce,” she said, in a voice like polished steel, “fix this.”

Professor Wilberforce swallowed.

“Yes. Yes, of course. I will just—”

He looked at the five children.

Barty was now trying to climb Marlene like a tree.

Dorcas had taken command of the Prewett twins.

Evan and Pandora were shrieking at each other with matching grins.

Regulus was silently poking his failed shoelace.

Professor Wilberforce went pale.

“I will need to consult the counter-charm.”

Sirius snapped his head up.

“You don’t know the counter-charm?”

“I know it,” Wilberforce said quickly. “In theory.”

“In theory?” Sirius repeated.

James stepped slightly in front of him. “Pads.”

“No,” Sirius said, voice rising. “No, because my brother is five.”

Regulus looked up at the word brother.

Not in recognition.

Just curiosity.

Sirius saw it.

It broke something fresh across his face.

Regulus lowered his gaze again.

Lily’s expression softened. She turned back to the small boy.

“Would you like help?”

Regulus hesitated.

His little fingers tightened around the lace.

He whispered, “I can do it.”

“Of course you can,” Lily said gently.

Regulus stared at the shoe.

The lace lay loose and cruel.

His lip trembled again.

“I nearly had it.”

“I saw,” Lily said. “You were very close.”

He glanced at her then, quick and shy.

“Really?”

“Really.”

He considered this with grave importance.

Behind them, Barty yelled, “I’M A DRAGON!”

Mary, breathless from chasing him, snapped, “You are absolutely not!”

Barty threw his arms out. “RAAAH!”

Peter stumbled backward. “He spat on me!”

“That’s not fire,” Mary said.

“It’s still rude!”

Dorcas stomped one tiny foot.

“Dragon boy! Stop being loud in my kingdom!”

Barty turned, delighted. “You’re not the boss!”

Dorcas’s face went utterly still.

Fabian whispered, “Oh, he’s done it now.”

Gideon nodded. “Brave. Foolish. Historic.”

Dorcas marched toward Barty with all the authority a small child in tiny Slytherin robes could physically contain.

“I am the queen.”

Barty stuck his tongue through the gap in his teeth.

“No.”

Dorcas gasped.

Marlene tightened her grip around Barty’s middle as he tried to wriggle free again.

“Don’t start a war while I’m holding you.”

“I’ll win!” Barty shouted.

“You’re missing a tooth!”

“That means I’m dangerous!”

Pandora looked up from her game with Evan.

“I lost a tooth once.”

Evan immediately said, “No, I did.”

Pandora shoved him. “I did first.”

“You copied me.”

“You can’t copy teeth!”

“I can if I want!”

Remus put both hands over his face.

James, despite everything, made a choking sound that might have been laughter if the situation had not been so completely unhinged.

Alice moved carefully toward Evan and Pandora, crouching nearby.

“Hello.”

The twins stopped instantly.

Both turned their heads.

Both stared at her.

Alice smiled.

“I’m Alice.”

Pandora blinked. “That’s a flower name.”

“Yes, sort of.”

Evan leaned toward Pandora and whispered loudly, “Do we like flowers?”

Pandora whispered back, just as loudly, “Sometimes.”

“What kind?”

“Dead ones are interesting.”

Evan nodded seriously and looked back at Alice.

“We sometimes like you.”

Alice’s smile twitched. “That’s generous.”

Frank crouched beside her.

“And I’m Frank.”

Evan frowned.

“That’s not a flower.”

“No,” Frank said. “No, it isn’t.”

Pandora tilted her head. “It could be.”

Frank blinked. “Could it?”

“If you buried him.”

Alice made a small noise.

Frank stared.

Pandora smiled sweetly.

Evan burst into laughter and collapsed sideways against her.

“Pandora,” Alice said faintly.

Pandora looked at her with bright innocence.

“What?”

Frank looked at Alice.

Alice looked at Frank.

Frank whispered, “We are not equipped.”

“No,” Alice whispered back. “No, we are not.”

Near Regulus, Lily slowly reached out.

“May I show you a trick?”

Regulus looked suspicious.

Not loudly. Not rudely.

Quietly.

The suspicion of a small boy who had learned already that help often came with strings.

“What trick?”

“With the laces.”

He looked down again.

His voice became even smaller.

“I know how.”

“I know,” Lily said. “This is just another way.”

Regulus considered that.

Sirius stood frozen a few feet behind her, barely breathing.

James stayed beside him. Remus came closer too, careful and calm.

Regulus’s gaze flicked to the three boys.

He shrank slightly into himself.

Lily noticed immediately.

“They won’t hurt you,” she said.

Regulus whispered, “They’re loud.”

James opened his mouth, then closed it.

Sirius looked like he might die.

Remus nodded solemnly.

“They are.”

James shot him a look.

Remus shrugged.

Regulus’s eyes moved to Sirius for one long, unreadable second.

Then away.

Sirius swallowed hard.

“I can be quiet,” he said.

It came out rough.

Regulus watched him again.

“You don’t look quiet.”

James looked down at his shoes.

Remus pressed his lips together.

Lily’s eyes flickered with something dangerously close to amusement.

Sirius, wounded beyond words, whispered, “Fair.”

Regulus blinked, then looked back at his shoe.

Lily held out both hands, not touching him.

“Loop first.”

Regulus copied her slowly.

His little brow furrowed.

“Like this?”

“Exactly like that.”

He pulled too hard. The lace slipped.

His face crumpled.

Not fully.

Just enough.

A tiny, silent collapse.

He sniffled again.

“I can’t.”

“You can,” Lily said. “You’re just learning.”

“I’m not little.”

Nobody spoke for a moment.

Sirius’s eyes shut.

James’s jaw tightened.

Regulus kept staring at the lace, cheeks pink with embarrassment.

“I’m not,” he whispered again.

Lily’s voice stayed gentle.

“All right.”

Regulus gave the lace another determined pinch.

Across the room, Dorcas had successfully escaped whatever loose containment had formed and was now standing on a chair.

“My servants,” she announced.

“Absolutely not,” Mary said, hands on her hips.

Dorcas ignored her.

“My servants, the dragon boy is banished.”

Barty, still held by Marlene, kicked both feet.

“You can’t banish me!”

“I can.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Yes, and also your hair is silly.”

Barty gasped with his whole body.

Marlene muttered, “Fatal blow.”

Barty pointed at Dorcas.

“Your face is silly!”

Dorcas looked personally betrayed by the weakness of the insult.

“That’s not how you do it.”

“I did it!”

“You did it badly.”

Barty wriggled free so suddenly that Marlene almost dropped him. He hit the floor running.

“Catch me then!”

Dorcas jumped off the chair.

Frank lunged forward. “No jumping!”

Dorcas landed perfectly, stumbled one step, then lifted her chin as though the floor had been honoured to receive her.

“I meant to do that.”

“Of course,” Alice said.

Barty sprinted past Fabian.

Fabian grabbed for him and missed.

Gideon stepped sideways, arms open.

Barty slid under them with a triumphant cackle.

Gideon stared down at his empty hands.

“He’s fast.”

Fabian nodded. “Like a cursed ferret.”

Peter tried to block Barty’s path.

Barty stopped short, looked up at him, and smiled with the missing tooth gap.

Peter looked nervous.

“Hello.”

Barty screamed, “BOO!”

Peter screamed louder.

Barty ran away laughing.

Mary pointed at Peter. “You are a disgrace to Gryffindor.”

Peter clutched his chest. “He’s very aggressive!”

“He’s tiny!”

“He’s spiritually large!”

Evan and Pandora, apparently inspired by the running, scrambled up and began chasing each other around the same desk in opposite directions, colliding every time they met.

“Move!” Evan shouted.

“You move!” Pandora shouted back.

“You’re in my way!”

“You’re in my way!”

They bumped shoulders, bounced off each other, and immediately dissolved into giggles.

Remus turned toward them.

“No running.”

They ran faster.

Remus sighed.

Lily did not look away from Regulus.

“Try again.”

Regulus inhaled through his nose, small and serious, then made another loop.

His fingers fumbled.

He caught the lace.

Pulled.

The knot twisted.

Held for half a second.

Then fell apart.

Regulus stared.

His eyes filled.

Sirius took half a step forward instinctively.

Regulus flinched.

Sirius froze again.

Lily glanced back once.

Sirius retreated the half step, breathing hard.

Regulus wiped at one eye with his sleeve, quick and embarrassed.

“I don’t care,” he whispered.

Lily nodded as if this were completely believable.

“Of course.”

“I don’t.”

“I know.”

His mouth wobbled.

“I nearly had it.”

“You did.”

The classroom around them was chaos, but in that little pocket near the desk leg, everything was soft and slow.

Regulus gathered the laces again.

His little hands shook with effort.

Sirius crouched down at last, not too close.

Regulus eyed him.

Sirius kept his voice low.

“You’re doing it right.”

Regulus looked at him warily.

Sirius swallowed.

“You just have to pull that bit through.”

Regulus looked down at the lace.

“This bit?”

“Yeah.”

A pause.

Then, almost inaudibly, Regulus said, “I knew that.”

Sirius’s smile broke across his face before he could stop it.

Not teasing.

Not smug.

Tender and destroyed.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Course you did.”

Regulus turned the lace over, concentrating hard.

James watched from behind Sirius, expression strange and quiet.

Remus folded his arms loosely, keeping half an eye on the rest of the room.

Barty shot past again, chased by Mary, Marlene, and Peter.

“Stop running!” Mary yelled.

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Because you said stop!”

Marlene laughed despite herself. “That’s horrible logic.”

Barty shouted, “It’s my logic!”

Dorcas, now standing beside Fabian and Gideon like a general directing a war, pointed dramatically.

“Servants! Block him!”

Fabian and Gideon exchanged a glance.

Then they stepped in opposite directions and accidentally left the middle completely open.

Barty ran straight between them.

Dorcas stared.

“That was terrible.”

Fabian winced. “We panicked.”

Gideon nodded. “Deeply.”

“You are bad servants.”

“We’ll improve.”

“You’d better.”

Evan and Pandora had found an overturned chair and were both trying to claim it.

“It’s mine,” Evan said.

“It’s ours,” Pandora corrected.

“No, mine first, then ours.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Yes it is.”

“No it isn’t.”

“It is if I say.”

“You don’t say.”

“I just did.”

Pandora shoved his forehead with one finger.

Evan shoved hers back.

They both froze.

Then both began laughing again, loud enough that Lily looked over sharply.

“Careful!”

The twins ignored her completely.

Regulus, however, startled at Lily’s raised voice. His fingers jerked, tangling the laces.

His eyes filled again.

Lily immediately softened.

“Sorry,” she said quietly. “Not at you.”

Regulus nodded, though he did not look convinced.

Sirius’s hands curled into fists against his knees.

Regulus began unpicking the tangled lace, lower lip trapped between his teeth.

After a long, tense moment, he managed it.

Then he tried again.

Loop.

Wrap.

Push through.

His fingers fumbled, caught, pulled—

The bow held.

Crooked.

Loose.

But held.

Regulus went very still.

Lily smiled.

Sirius forgot how to breathe.

James whispered, “He did it.”

Regulus stared at the bow as though he had defeated a mountain.

Then he touched it with one finger.

It stayed.

His face changed.

Not into a big smile.

Nothing so easy.

Just a small, private glow, quick as a match-light.

“I did it,” he whispered.

Lily’s smile widened.

“You did.”

Regulus looked at Sirius, then away, shy again.

Sirius’s voice was barely there.

“Good job.”

Regulus studied him.

Then, after a long moment, he whispered, “Thank you.”

Sirius’s expression crumpled.

He turned his face away quickly, pretending to look at the rest of the room.

The rest of the room, unfortunately, had not improved.

Barty had climbed onto another desk.

Dorcas was trying to order him down by royal decree.

Evan and Pandora were now under the desk, arguing about whether they were hiding or conquering.

Mary had ink on her sleeve.

Peter looked traumatised.

Marlene was laughing too hard to be useful.

Frank and Alice were attempting reason and getting nowhere.

Fabian and Gideon had accepted their servant status with suspicious enthusiasm.

Professor Wilberforce was frantically flipping through a textbook at the front of the classroom, pale and sweating.

Lily stood slowly.

“Right,” she said.

Her voice cut clean through the room.

Everyone looked at her.

Even Barty paused mid-crouch on top of the desk.

Lily pointed at him.

“Down.”

Barty opened his mouth.

Lily’s eyes narrowed.

Barty closed his mouth.

Then, very slowly, he sat.

Mary stared.

“How did you do that?”

Lily ignored her and pointed at Dorcas.

“No more servants.”

Dorcas crossed her arms.

“I’m queen.”

“Queens can sit quietly.”

Dorcas considered this.

“On a throne.”

Frank quickly righted a chair.

Dorcas examined it, then sat with great dignity.

“It will do.”

Lily pointed under the desk.

“Evan. Pandora. Out.”

Two small faces appeared.

Evan frowned. “Why?”

“Because I said.”

Pandora tilted her head. “Are you queen too?”

“No.”

“Then why do we listen?”

Lily paused.

James muttered, “Valid question.”

Lily shot him a look.

James shut up.

Alice crouched by the desk. “Because it’s safer out here.”

Pandora looked at Evan.

Evan looked at Pandora.

They whispered silently with their eyes in the eerie way only twins could.

Then they crawled out together, shoulder to shoulder, still ignoring almost everyone else.

Lily turned last toward Regulus.

He was still sitting by the desk leg, touching the bow on his shoe to make sure it stayed.

She lowered her voice.

“Would you like to sit somewhere more comfortable?”

Regulus shook his head.

A tiny movement.

“I’m fine.”

Sirius looked down at him.

Regulus did not look back.

His attention returned to his other shoe.

The lace was already tied.

He untied it.

Sirius blinked.

James leaned in slightly. “Did he just—”

“Yes,” Remus whispered.

Regulus carefully pulled the lace loose, then began practicing again.

Loop.

Wrap.

Push.

The bow collapsed.

He frowned.

Tried again.

The chaos continued around him, loud and wild and impossible, but Regulus stayed where he was, small and silent and calm, absorbed in his task.

Barty kicked his feet from the top of the desk until Mary told him to stop.

Dorcas sat on her chair-throne and informed Fabian that he was standing incorrectly.

Evan and Pandora began clapping their strange floor rhythm again, louder this time, both of them talking over each other.

Frank rubbed both hands over his face.

Alice looked like she was calculating how many children it was possible to contain with one classroom and no warning.

Marlene leaned against a desk, grinning.

Peter stood as far from Barty’s teeth as possible.

Gideon saluted Dorcas solemnly.

Fabian bowed so deeply he nearly hit his head on the chair.

James hovered between laughing and panicking.

Remus looked toward Professor Wilberforce.

“Professor,” he said, very calmly, “how is that counter-charm coming?”

Professor Wilberforce looked up from the textbook with the expression of a man staring into his own grave.

“I have found several possibilities.”

Sirius turned slowly.

“Several?”

Wilberforce swallowed.

“Yes.”

Lily’s voice went flat.

“Find the right one.”

Barty raised one hand.

“Can I explode something?”

Everyone shouted, “No!”

Barty grinned.

Dorcas pointed at him from her throne.

“Servants, watch the dragon boy.”

Mary groaned. “I refuse to live like this.”

Evan shoved Pandora’s shoulder.

Pandora shoved him back.

“You started it,” Evan said.

“You started being annoying.”

“You were born first.”

“No, you were.”

“Was I?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Me neither.”

They both found this hilarious.

Regulus’s second bow finally held.

He touched it once.

Then both shoes.

Both tied.

He looked quietly pleased.

Sirius watched him with an expression too soft for the room.

Regulus, feeling the attention somehow, looked up.

For a second, the two Black brothers stared at each other across a distance much larger than the few feet between them.

Sirius, older and aching and helpless.

Regulus, tiny and shy and unknowing, with no memory of him at all.

Then Regulus lowered his gaze, curled his hands neatly in his lap, and whispered to no one in particular,

“I did both.”

Sirius smiled.

It hurt.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “You did.”

The second bow held.

Regulus stared at it for a long moment with the solemn awe of someone who had just conquered a fortress by himself.

It was crooked.

It leaned slightly to the left.

One loop was much larger than the other.

But it held.

That was the important thing.

He touched it once, very gently, just to make certain it was real. Then he touched the other bow, the first one, the one Lily had helped him with, and his little mouth softened into the tiniest, shyest smile.

“I did both,” he whispered again.

Sirius, crouched a careful few feet away from him, looked as if the entire world had just rearranged itself around that sentence.

“Yeah,” Sirius said, voice low and rough around the edges. “You did. That’s brilliant.”

Regulus glanced up quickly.

Praise, apparently, was dangerous territory. His grey eyes flicked to Sirius’s face, to his hands, to the space between them, then back down to his shoes.

But he did not move away.

That was something.

Behind them, the rest of the classroom had descended into full, ungovernable mayhem.

Barty had found a ruler.

Nobody knew where he had found it. Nobody had given it to him. Nobody had seen him pick it up. It had simply appeared in his small hand, like a weapon granted to him by some ancient goblin deity of chaos.

He held it aloft and declared, “Sword!”

Mary Macdonald, already breathless, hair escaping from its clips, pointed at him.

“That is not a sword.”

Barty brandished it anyway.

“It is if I say it is!”

Peter Pettigrew stepped back immediately. “Maybe just let him have that one.”

Mary whipped around. “No! We are not letting a tiny Crouch have a weapon!”

“It’s a ruler!”

“He has the energy to make it worse!”

Marlene McKinnon, standing on the far side of the desk with her sleeves rolled up and a grin splitting her face, clapped her hands once.

“Right, tooth gap, give us the sword.”

Barty gasped, offended down to his little Ravenclaw bones.

“Tooth gap?”

Marlene pointed at his mouth. “You heard me.”

Barty bared his teeth. The missing front one made his attempt at menace look devastatingly ridiculous.

“I’m dangerous.”

“You’re adorable.”

He shrieked.

Not in distress.

In pure fury.

“I AM NOT!”

Then he bolted.

Mary screamed, “No, no, no, do not run with the ruler!”

“I’M A KNIGHT!”

“You’re a liability!”

Barty shot between two desks, cackling wildly, his tiny Ravenclaw tie flying over one shoulder. Peter tried to block him again, instantly regretted it, and jumped sideways with a noise that sounded embarrassingly like a squeaky hinge.

“You’ve got this, Wormtail!” James called.

Peter glared at him. “You come stop him!”

James Potter, who had been doing a very convincing impression of someone helping while actually staying as far from the ruler as possible, held up both hands.

“I’m providing moral support.”

“You’re hiding behind Frank!”

Frank Longbottom, who had indeed somehow become James’s human shield, looked over his shoulder.

“You are hiding behind me?”

James patted his arm. “Strategically standing.”

Frank sighed. “Of course.”

Alice Fortescue darted after Barty as he attempted to climb onto a chair again.

“Barty, feet on the floor.”

Barty looked her dead in the eye and placed one tiny shoe onto the chair seat.

Alice’s expression tightened.

“Barty.”

He lifted the other foot.

Frank groaned. “He’s testing you.”

“He’s absolutely testing me,” Alice said.

Barty grinned through his tooth gap.

Then Dorcas Meadowes appeared behind him, hands on her hips, looking every inch the smallest and most offended queen in the world.

“Get off my throne.”

Barty froze.

Mary slowed to a stop. “Oh, here we go.”

Barty looked down at Dorcas. “It’s not your throne.”

Dorcas lifted her chin. Her curls bounced around her round little face, her tiny Slytherin robes immaculate despite the fact that she had personally caused half the mess on the floor.

“I said it was.”

“You can’t just say things and make them real.”

“Yes, I can.”

“No, you can’t.”

“I’m queen.”

Barty puffed up. “I’m a knight.”

“You’re a bad knight.”

“You’re a bad queen.”

Fabian Prewett, standing obediently beside Dorcas because he had somehow accepted his role in the monarchy with alarming enthusiasm, sucked in a breath through his teeth.

“Ouch.”

Gideon Prewett shook his head solemnly. “He strikes at the crown.”

Dorcas’s eyes narrowed.

“Servants,” she said coldly.

Fabian immediately straightened. “Yes, Your Tiny Majesty.”

“I said I’m not tiny.”

“Your Completely Normal-Sized Majesty.”

Gideon nodded. “Much better.”

Dorcas pointed at Barty.

“Remove him.”

Barty shrieked with laughter and leapt off the chair before Fabian could even move.

Frank lunged to catch him. Alice lunged too. Mary flung herself around the side of a desk. Marlene reached across the back of a chair.

Barty ducked all of them.

He hit the floor on both feet and sprinted straight into Evan and Pandora Rosier.

The twins had been on the floor together beneath Professor Wilberforce’s desk, completely ignoring the rest of the room while loudly inventing a game whose rules appeared to involve slapping the stone, making hissing noises, and accusing each other of betrayal every twelve seconds.

Barty crashed into Evan’s shoulder.

Evan yelped.

Pandora gasped.

All three children toppled sideways in a heap of black, blue, and green robes.

There was one full second of stunned silence.

Then Evan shouted, “You ruined it!”

Barty shouted back, “You were in the way!”

Pandora sat up, hair wild, eyes blazing with delighted outrage.

“You fell on my hand!”

“I fell everywhere!”

“That’s not an apology!”

Barty popped up onto his knees and brandished the ruler. “I’m a knight.”

Evan immediately grabbed the other end of the ruler.

“No, you’re not.”

Barty pulled. “Yes, I am!”

Evan pulled back. “No, I am!”

“You weren’t even playing!”

“I am now!”

Pandora scrambled to her feet and threw herself into the argument by grabbing the middle of the ruler with both hands.

“It’s mine!”

Both boys yelled, “No!”

Pandora yelled louder.

The ruler bent.

Mary covered her face. “Oh my God.”

Remus Lupin, who had been attempting to maintain some shape of order with the exhausted dignity of a man shepherding drunk kneazles through a library, stepped forward.

“Let go of the ruler.”

None of them let go.

“Barty,” Remus said.

Barty pulled harder.

“Evan.”

Evan growled.

“Pandora.”

Pandora made direct eye contact with him and whispered, “No.”

Remus blinked.

Marlene lost it.

She slapped a hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking.

Remus turned slowly toward her. “Helpful.”

“I’m sorry,” Marlene wheezed. “She’s so scary.”

“She’s six.”

“She knows things.”

Pandora yanked the ruler free.

Barty and Evan both tumbled backward.

Pandora held the ruler above her head in triumph.

“I win!”

Evan sprang back up instantly. “You cheated!”

Pandora beamed. “Yes.”

Barty gasped. “I like cheating!”

Evan looked between them, considered this, and then grinned.

All three of them suddenly seemed to realise at exactly the same time that fighting each other was more fun than fighting the older students.

A terrible alliance formed in the span of one breath.

Dorcas, watching from her chair-throne, noticed too.

Her eyes sharpened.

“I want to play.”

Barty pointed the ruler at her. “You said I was banished.”

“You are unbanished.”

“That’s not a word.”

“It is when I say it.”

Evan looked impressed. Pandora nodded solemnly, as if this logic was airtight.

Barty considered it.

Then he thrust the ruler toward her.

“You can be the queen.”

Dorcas accepted this as her due and slid down from her chair, taking the ruler like a sceptre.

“I was already the queen.”

“Now you’re queen with a sword,” Evan said.

Dorcas looked at him.

Her expression transformed.

“Yes.”

“Oh no,” Alice said softly.

The four of them scattered.

Not away from each other now.

Together.

Barty, Evan, Pandora, and Dorcas became a small storm of shrieking, laughing, shoving limbs and tiny robes. They chased one another around desks, doubled back on themselves, ducked under chairs, crawled beneath tables, burst out again from the wrong side, accused one another of treason, switched sides, forgot the game, invented a new one, and immediately began arguing over that too.

Barty ran with his arms out, yelling, “Dragon knight!”

Dorcas chased him with the ruler held like a sceptre, declaring, “I order you to be captured!”

Evan darted after them, hair falling over his eyes, shouting, “I’m not captured!”

Pandora followed half a step behind him, clutching the back of his robe so they were stumbling together, laughing so hard they nearly crashed into Remus’s legs.

“Careful,” Remus said, catching Pandora automatically before she fell.

She twisted in his hold like a cat.

“No thank you!”

Remus released her immediately.

She bolted after Evan.

James stared at the four of them.

“They’re like tiny criminals.”

“They are children,” Lily said, though she sounded like she was beginning to doubt whether that was a meaningful defence.

James gestured as Barty attempted to climb onto another desk while Dorcas ordered Evan to attack Mary’s shoelaces.

“They’re organised.”

“No, they’re not,” Frank said. “That’s the problem.”

Mary yelped and hopped back as Evan made a grab for her shoe.

“Absolutely not! Nobody is untying me!”

Evan laughed and ran away.

Pandora followed, yelling, “We nearly got her!”

“You did not!” Mary shouted.

“We did in spirit!”

Peter hovered uselessly with his arms half-raised.

“What do we do?”

Marlene clapped him on the shoulder. “Survive.”

“That’s not a plan!”

“It’s the plan we have.”

Through all of it, Regulus remained at Sirius’s side.

He had not moved toward the other four once.

At first, he watched them with quiet suspicion, his small body folded neatly on the floor, both shoes now tied, both hands resting in his lap. He followed the blur of Barty and Evan and Pandora and Dorcas with wary grey eyes, shrinking a little whenever they shrieked too close.

When Barty raced past with a howl of laughter, Regulus pressed his shoulder lightly against the desk leg.

Sirius noticed.

Of course Sirius noticed.

He noticed everything.

“You don’t want to play?” Sirius asked softly.

Regulus looked up at him, then immediately away.

His fingers picked at the edge of his sleeve.

“No.”

“Too loud?”

Regulus nodded.

Then, after a pause, he whispered, “They’re silly.”

Sirius’s mouth twitched.

“They are a bit silly.”

Regulus looked at him more seriously.

“They’re very silly.”

“Very,” Sirius agreed.

Regulus’s gaze drifted back to the chaos.

Barty had somehow ended up with Fabian’s shoe.

Fabian, hopping on one foot, looked bewildered rather than angry.

“How did he do that?”

Gideon, laughing too hard to help, held onto the back of a chair.

“You let a child steal your shoe?”

“He’s quick!”

Barty held the shoe above his head.

“TREASURE!”

Dorcas pointed the ruler-sceptre at Fabian.

“The dragon knight has taken your jewel.”

“That’s my shoe,” Fabian said.

“It’s a jewel now.”

“Can I have my jewel back?”

“No.”

Pandora tried to inspect the shoe. Evan tried to take it from Barty. Barty spun away, cackling.

Regulus frowned.

“I don’t like that game.”

Sirius glanced down.

“No?”

Regulus shook his head. “It’s messy.”

Sirius huffed a little laugh, softer than usual. “Yeah. It is.”

Regulus seemed to approve of that answer.

The silence between them stretched.

Not uncomfortable, exactly.

Just fragile.

Sirius shifted carefully, lowering himself from a crouch to sit on the floor near him, leaving space, making himself smaller. It was strange to see Sirius Black attempt not to take up a room. He was built for sprawling, for swagger, for collision, for laughing too loud and leaning too close.

But for Regulus, even like this, maybe especially like this, he folded himself down.

James watched from a few feet away, something uncharacteristically gentle moving across his face.

Lily caught it and said nothing.

Regulus glanced sideways at Sirius.

“You have long hair.”

Sirius blinked.

James made a strangled noise and pretended to cough.

Sirius touched his own hair, suddenly self-conscious in a way he almost never was.

“Yeah. I do.”

Regulus studied him.

“My big brother has long hair.”

Sirius went completely still.

The classroom noise seemed to recede for half a second, leaving only the rain against the glass and the tiny voice of the boy beside him.

“Does he?” Sirius said.

Regulus nodded.

A small, certain nod.

“He’s got really good hair.”

James turned away immediately, lips pressed together, eyes suspiciously bright with laughter and pain all at once.

Sirius stared at Regulus like he had forgotten where he was.

Regulus kept going, voice still quiet but a little warmer now, coaxed open by the subject.

“He lets me touch it sometimes. Not if Mother’s there. But when she’s not looking. It’s soft.”

Sirius swallowed.

“Sounds nice.”

“He’s nice,” Regulus whispered.

The words landed softly.

They hurt anyway.

“He carries me,” Regulus said, looking down at his perfectly tied shoes, shy pride warming his little voice. “And he brings me places. And he lets me sit with him. And he tells me things. And he’s only a little bigger than me but he’s much braver.”

Sirius’s face changed again.

Something younger moved through it, something almost lost.

“He sounds brilliant,” Sirius said, and somehow his voice did not break.

Regulus nodded with complete seriousness.

“He is.”

A beat.

Then Regulus added, even softer, “He’s my big brother.”

Sirius breathed in sharply.

James looked at the ceiling.

Remus glanced down.

Lily’s expression softened so suddenly it almost hurt to look at.

Regulus peeked up at Sirius again.

“You remind me of him.”

Sirius’s laugh came out small and startled.

“Do I?”

Regulus nodded, more confident now.

“Because of your hair. And you’re loud-looking.”

“Loud-looking,” James repeated under his breath.

Sirius shot him a glare without any real heat.

Regulus tilted his head.

“But you’re being quiet.”

“I can do that sometimes.”

Regulus looked doubtful.

Sirius smiled despite himself.

“Not often.”

That made Regulus’s mouth twitch.

Tiny.

Nearly invisible.

But there.

Sirius looked ready to be buried with that smile clutched in both hands.

Regulus drew one knee up to his chest and rested his chin on it.

“What’s your name?”

Sirius froze again.

For a second, he looked as though he had been asked something impossibly complicated.

Then he said, carefully, “Sirius.”

Regulus stared at him.

His eyes widened.

Properly widened.

Round and bright and shocked.

“Sirius?”

Sirius’s mouth twitched.

“Yeah.”

Regulus sat up straighter.

“That’s my big brother’s name.”

James lost the fight and made a sound that was half laugh, half cough.

Regulus looked at him suspiciously.

James immediately pointed at his own throat.

“Sorry. Dust.”

Lily gave him a warning look.

Sirius, meanwhile, had pressed the heel of his hand against his mouth like he was trying very hard not to laugh too loudly.

Regulus’s small brows knitted.

“Why are you laughing?”

Sirius lowered his hand, smiling openly now, soft and helpless.

“Because that’s a good name.”

Regulus considered that.

Then nodded.

“It is.”

“Best name,” Sirius said.

“My Sirius has it first.”

“Course he does.”

Regulus looked satisfied by this.

Then he shuffled a little closer.

Not much.

Only an inch or two.

But Sirius noticed, and so did everyone else pretending not to watch.

Regulus glanced down at his shoes again.

“I tied them.”

Sirius looked at the bows with proper seriousness.

“You did.”

“Both.”

“Both of them.”

Regulus’s cheeks went faintly pink.

“I did the green one first.”

“They’re both green, love.”

Regulus looked down.

Then back up, quietly offended by the flaw in his own statement.

“That one was greener.”

Sirius nodded instantly. “Definitely. I see it.”

Lily made a tiny noise that might have been a laugh if she had allowed it to live.

Regulus touched the left bow.

“This one was harder.”

“Was it?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Regulus thought about it.

Then whispered, “It was being mean.”

Sirius nodded solemnly.

“Laces do that.”

Regulus’s eyes flicked up, surprised.

“You know?”

“Oh, yeah. Terrible things, laces.”

Regulus seemed to decide, in that moment, that this older boy named Sirius was a person of wisdom.

He leaned a fraction more toward him.

“My Sirius ties them fast.”

“I bet he does.”

“He says I’ll learn.”

“You will.”

Regulus looked down at the bow.

“I did learn.”

“You did.”

The shy pride returned, brighter now.

Regulus turned his head, scanning the nearest people with cautious interest.

“I tied my laces,” he told Lily.

Lily, who had been trying to keep one eye on Dorcas attempting to conscript Frank into her imaginary kingdom, immediately smiled.

“I saw. You did a wonderful job.”

Regulus’s cheeks pinked more.

He looked toward James.

James straightened dramatically, as though receiving an important report.

“I tied my laces,” Regulus whispered.

James put a hand over his heart.

“Both of them?”

Regulus nodded.

James looked impressed.

“That’s massive.”

Regulus’s mouth curved.

Just barely.

Then he looked at Remus.

Remus’s expression was very gentle.

“I tied my laces.”

“So you did,” Remus said. “Very neatly too.”

Regulus looked pleased, then slightly alarmed by how pleased he was. He ducked his head quickly.

Sirius watched it happen like he could not look away.

Across the room, Marlene shouted, “Has anyone got eyes on Barty?”

Peter answered, “I had eyes on him!”

Mary snapped, “Had?”

“He left!”

“Where?”

A crash came from under Professor Wilberforce’s desk.

Professor Wilberforce, still frantically flipping through the counter-charm book, made a faint whimpering sound.

Barty’s head popped out from beneath the desk.

He had chalk dust on his hair and Fabian’s shoe still clutched against his chest.

“I found secret paper!”

Remus turned sharply. “Do not touch secret paper.”

“It’s mine now!”

“It is not yours.”

Dorcas appeared beside him, pointing the ruler.

“As queen, I demand half.”

Barty clutched the paper tighter.

“No.”

Evan and Pandora slid under the desk from the other side like tiny conspirators.

Pandora whispered, “We can steal it.”

Evan whispered back, “From who?”

“Everyone.”

Evan nodded. “Good.”

Alice closed her eyes briefly.

Frank said, “Right. I’ll get Barty.”

Mary said, “I’ll block Dorcas.”

Marlene said, “I want it known I’m having a brilliant time.”

Lily snapped, “Marlene.”

“What? Horrible situation. Excellent entertainment.”

Frank crouched near the professor’s desk.

“Barty, hand over the paper.”

Barty narrowed his eyes.

“What do I get?”

“Not being in trouble.”

Barty looked unimpressed.

“That’s nothing.”

Frank inhaled. “It is not nothing.”

Barty looked at Dorcas. Dorcas looked at Evan. Evan looked at Pandora.

Pandora smiled.

Frank immediately said, “I don’t like that.”

The four children scattered again.

Professor Wilberforce cried, “My notes!”

Evan bolted with one parchment sheet.

Pandora had another.

Dorcas marched off with the ruler raised in victory.

Barty still had Fabian’s shoe and possibly half a spell diagram.

Mary chased Pandora.

Alice chased Dorcas.

Frank chased Barty.

Marlene chased Evan but was laughing too hard to gain much ground.

Peter stood in the middle of the room spinning helplessly.

“Who am I chasing?”

Gideon shouted, “The shoe!”

Fabian shouted, “My shoe!”

Peter turned and ran after Barty.

James looked at Sirius.

Sirius looked back.

Neither moved.

James raised an eyebrow.

Sirius glanced down at Regulus, who had shuffled close enough now that his tiny shoulder nearly brushed Sirius’s knee.

“I’m occupied,” Sirius said.

James looked at Regulus.

Regulus looked back up at him.

Very quietly, very seriously, Regulus said, “I tied my laces.”

James melted so visibly that Sirius almost laughed.

James pointed at the chaos without looking away from Regulus.

“They can handle it.”

Remus passed behind them in pursuit of Evan, saying dryly, “We cannot, actually.”

James ignored him.

Regulus’s attention drifted back to Sirius.

“You’re tall.”

Sirius smiled. “Yeah.”

“My Sirius is not that tall.”

“Not yet.”

Regulus frowned. “What?”

Sirius panicked for exactly half a second.

James’s eyes widened.

Lily, from across the room, threw Sirius a look that clearly said do not confuse the magically regressed child with time implications.

Sirius cleared his throat.

“I mean… maybe he’ll get taller.”

Regulus considered this with deep seriousness.

“He might.”

“Probably.”

“He eats toast.”

Sirius blinked.

James nodded as though this made perfect sense.

“Classic tall-person behaviour.”

Regulus looked at him.

“Do you eat toast?”

“All the time.”

Regulus studied James suspiciously. “You’re loud too.”

James grinned. “I get that a lot.”

Regulus edged closer to Sirius.

Sirius immediately looked smug.

James rolled his eyes.

“Oh, so I’m not the favourite.”

Regulus glanced at Sirius.

Then, with the quiet honesty of a very small child, said, “He has my brother’s name.”

James put both hands up.

“Can’t argue with that.”

Sirius’s face went soft again.

Regulus looked down at his shoes, then at the floor, then at Sirius’s sleeve. His small fingers twitched as if he wanted to touch but was not sure he was allowed.

Sirius noticed.

Of course he did.

“You all right there?”

Regulus shrugged one tiny shoulder.

The chaos had grown louder again. Dorcas was arguing with Alice about the legality of queenly decrees. Barty was crawling under desks with Peter desperately trying to coax him out. Evan and Pandora were shrieking with laughter as Marlene and Mary attempted to separate them from Professor Wilberforce’s stolen notes. Fabian was still missing a shoe. Gideon was unhelpfully narrating the chase like a Quidditch commentator.

Regulus flinched when Barty yelled, “YOU’LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!”

Sirius’s expression sharpened.

“Too loud?”

Regulus nodded once.

Sirius shifted closer, slow and careful.

“Do you want to come up here?”

Regulus looked at him.

“Where?”

Sirius held out his hands, not grabbing, not crowding.

“I can carry you. If you want.”

Regulus’s eyes narrowed in thought.

“My Sirius carries me.”

“I remember,” Sirius said softly. Then, quickly, “You said.”

Regulus watched him for another long moment.

“On his hip?”

Sirius’s smile flickered.

“Yeah. I can do that.”

Regulus looked at Sirius’s arms, then at his face.

“You won’t drop me?”

“Never.”

The word came too quickly.

Too fiercely.

Regulus did not seem frightened by it.

If anything, he seemed to understand that kind of certainty.

He nodded once, small and shy.

“All right.”

Sirius moved slowly, as if approaching a wild bird.

He slid one arm carefully behind Regulus’s back and the other beneath his knees. Regulus stiffened for the smallest second, then allowed himself to be lifted.

He was so small.

So much smaller than Sirius was prepared for.

Sirius rose to his feet with Regulus tucked against him, settling the child on his hip with a naturalness that made James go very still. Regulus’s little legs rested against Sirius’s side. One small hand clutched the front of Sirius’s robes. The other hovered awkwardly for a moment before landing on Sirius’s shoulder.

Sirius adjusted his hold, gentle and secure.

“There we go.”

Regulus looked around from the new height.

His eyes widened slightly.

“I’m tall now.”

Sirius huffed a laugh.

“You are.”

Regulus’s mouth twitched.

“I can see Barty’s hair.”

Across the room, Barty’s wild curls vanished beneath a desk.

Then popped up again from behind Frank.

“I’M HERE!”

Frank yelped and spun.

Barty cackled.

Regulus watched, unimpressed.

“He’s very loud.”

Sirius bounced him once, gently, without thinking.

Regulus blinked.

Then relaxed.

Sirius noticed and did it again, soft and rhythmic, one hand spread carefully across Regulus’s back.

Regulus leaned into him.

Not much at first.

Just a slight weight against Sirius’s chest.

Then a little more.

His cheek came to rest against Sirius’s shoulder.

Sirius stopped breathing again.

James whispered, “Mate.”

Sirius did not look at him.

Regulus’s small hand curled in the fabric of Sirius’s robes.

“He really does carry like my Sirius,” Regulus whispered.

James’s face crumpled and brightened at once.

Sirius closed his eyes briefly.

When he opened them, his voice was gentle.

“Yeah?”

Regulus nodded against him.

“Mhm.”

“And is that good?”

Regulus’s answer was muffled into Sirius’s shoulder.

“Yes.”

Sirius held him tighter.

Not enough to scare him.

Just enough to keep him.

Around them, the Gryffindors were losing a war.

Lily had managed to retrieve one of Professor Wilberforce’s stolen notes from Pandora, but Pandora had immediately compensated by acquiring Mary’s quill.

Mary pointed at her.

“That is mine.”

Pandora hugged it to her chest.

“It likes me.”

“It does not have opinions.”

“It told me.”

Mary looked at Lily. “She’s impossible.”

Lily said, “She’s imaginative.”

“She’s holding my quill hostage.”

Pandora whispered to the quill, then looked back up.

“It wants to stay.”

Evan appeared beside her, fiercely loyal.

“The quill chooses Pandora.”

Marlene leaned over, hands on knees, breathless.

“Give Mary the quill, and I’ll let you steal Peter’s.”

Peter squawked. “Excuse me?”

Evan and Pandora both turned toward Peter.

Peter stepped back.

“No. No, don’t look at me like that.”

Pandora smiled.

Evan smiled too.

Peter whispered, “Help.”

Remus, who had finally caught the ruler and was holding it above Dorcas’s reach, said, “Nobody is stealing Peter’s quill.”

Dorcas jumped for the ruler.

Remus lifted it higher.

Dorcas glared up at him.

“That’s mine.”

“It is a classroom ruler.”

“I conquered it.”

“You borrowed it violently.”

“That means conquered.”

Alice, trying very hard not to smile, crouched beside Dorcas.

“Maybe queens don’t need rulers all the time.”

Dorcas looked at her as if she had said queens did not need heads.

“Of course they do.”

Frank passed behind them, carrying Fabian’s recovered shoe like a trophy.

“Got it!”

Fabian, still hopping, cheered. “My jewel!”

Gideon clapped. “A triumph for the monarchy.”

Dorcas pointed at Frank.

“That belongs to the kingdom.”

Frank stopped. “It belongs to Fabian’s foot.”

“My kingdom includes feet.”

Marlene doubled over laughing.

Lily, despite herself, laughed too.

James looked at the scene, then at Sirius and Regulus, then shook his head.

“I’m just saying,” he announced, “I know we’re supposed to be fair and decent and all that, but Regulus is absolutely the best one.”

Regulus lifted his head slightly from Sirius’s shoulder.

He looked at James.

James pointed at the four-child disaster currently swarming the classroom.

“They’re terrifying.”

Regulus looked at them.

Then back at James.

“They’re silly,” he said.

James nodded gravely.

“Exactly.”

Mary, chasing Pandora around a chair, shouted, “Regulus is my favourite!”

Pandora gasped mid-run. “Rude!”

Mary pointed at her stolen quill. “Give it back and we’ll revisit the ranking.”

Pandora clutched the quill tighter.

“No.”

“Then Regulus remains the favourite.”

Barty popped up from behind Frank.

“I’m the favourite!”

“No, you’re the bite risk,” Marlene said.

Barty grinned and snapped his teeth at the air.

Peter hid behind Remus.

Dorcas placed both hands on her hips.

“I am queen, so I am favourite.”

Alice smiled. “Of course you are.”

James coughed. “Regulus is still calmer.”

Dorcas narrowed her eyes at him.

James immediately added, “Your Majesty.”

Dorcas accepted this with a nod.

Evan looked offended on behalf of himself and Pandora.

“We’re favourites.”

Pandora lifted Mary’s quill like a flag.

“We’re two favourites.”

Mary groaned. “You’re two headaches.”

Regulus, still held against Sirius’s hip, looked around at everyone discussing him.

His cheeks went pink again.

He hid half his face against Sirius’s shoulder.

Sirius felt the small movement and practically glowed.

Remus glanced over, expression warm.

“He is definitely the easiest.”

“Easiest?” Marlene said, dodging Barty as he ran past her. “He’s a tiny little angel compared to these goblins.”

Barty shouted, “I’m a dragon!”

“You’re a goblin dragon!”

Barty paused, considered this, and nodded.

“That’s good.”

Frank, helping Fabian put his shoe back on while also trying to keep one eye on Evan and Pandora, looked over at Regulus.

“He is very calm.”

Alice smiled. “And very sweet.”

Regulus’s blush deepened.

He whispered into Sirius’s robes, “I tied my laces.”

Sirius looked down at him.

“Want to tell them?”

Regulus shook his head, then nodded, then shook his head again.

Sirius gently bounced him.

“You already did.”

Regulus peeked out.

Lily walked over and softened her voice.

“You did a beautiful job.”

Regulus looked at her from the safety of Sirius’s arms.

“Both,” he whispered.

“Both,” Lily agreed.

Mary, overhearing as she finally snatched her quill back from Pandora, shouted, “Well done, Regulus!”

Regulus startled, then smiled shyly.

Marlene threw both thumbs up from across the room. “Best laces in the class!”

Regulus hid his face again.

Sirius laughed softly.

“Too much?”

Regulus nodded into his shoulder.

“Sorry,” James said, far too loudly.

Regulus peeked.

James lowered his voice into a stage whisper.

“Very impressive laces.”

Regulus gave him a tiny, pleased look.

Then he settled more heavily against Sirius, the way tired children did when they had decided, without announcing it, that someone was safe enough to lean on.

Sirius’s hand moved slowly over his back once.

Regulus did not pull away.

The room remained chaos.

Professor Wilberforce continued searching for the counter-charm with the panic of a man whose career was hanging by a thread.

Barty, Dorcas, Evan, and Pandora continued to run, argue, laugh, steal, command, and nearly injure every Gryffindor trying to contain them.

Peter kept yelping.

Mary kept scolding.

Marlene kept laughing.

Frank and Alice kept attempting diplomacy.

Fabian and Gideon kept accidentally encouraging the monarchy.

Remus kept saving objects from destruction.

Lily kept trying to maintain order through sheer force of will.

James kept declaring rankings.

And Sirius stood in the middle of it all with tiny Regulus Black balanced on his hip, gently bouncing him, while Regulus rested against him with his little hands curled into Sirius’s robes and his newly tied laces dangling neatly above the floor.

Regulus watched the others for a while.

Then he murmured, “I don’t want to play.”

Sirius looked down.

“You don’t have to.”

“They’re loud.”

“I know.”

“And silly.”

“Very silly.”

Regulus nodded, satisfied.

Then, quieter, he added, “You can carry me instead.”

Sirius’s smile softened into something almost unbearably tender.

“Yeah,” he said. “I can carry you.”

Regulus tucked his face back into Sirius’s shoulder.

“You’re like my big brother.”

Sirius held him close, swaying faintly on his feet.

“Good,” he whispered.

Regulus did not hear the ache in it.

Or if he did, he did not understand it.

He only curled closer, small and warm and trusting, while Sirius Black stood surrounded by shrieking little storms and failed classroom management, carrying the calmest child in the room like he was something precious.

James leaned toward Lily and whispered, “He’s definitely everyone’s favourite.”

Lily watched Regulus’s tiny hand grip Sirius’s robes.

Then she watched Sirius’s face, soft and broken open with love.

Her own expression gentled.

“Yes,” she said. “I think he is.”

It took twenty-three minutes, three overturned desks, two stolen shoes, one ruined ruler, six separate threats of biting, and Dorcas Meadowes attempting to establish a monarchy across the eastern half of the classroom before the Gryffindors finally accepted that ordinary containment methods were not enough.

Barty Crouch Jr. could not be reasoned with.

Pandora Rosier could not be negotiated with.

Evan Rosier could not be separated from Pandora without both of them immediately deciding the separation itself was a war crime.

Dorcas Meadowes could not be commanded because she had already decided she was the highest available authority in any room she entered.

And Regulus Black—

Regulus Black was sitting peacefully on Sirius’s hip, one cheek pressed to Sirius’s shoulder, watching the chaos with the distant concern of a child at a very loud birthday party he had not asked to attend.

“I don’t like that game,” he murmured.

Sirius gently bounced him. “Nobody does, love.”

Across the room, Barty shot out from under a desk wearing Fabian’s recovered shoe on one hand.

“CLAWS!”

Fabian made a wounded noise. “Again?”

Frank Longbottom lunged. “Barty, no—”

Barty ducked.

Frank grabbed empty air.

Evan and Pandora, apparently deciding this was hilarious, burst into matching shrieks and threw themselves after Barty, both of them grabbing at the shoe-claw while Barty tried to defend it with the ferocity of a dragon protecting gold.

Dorcas stood on a chair and pointed.

“My subjects! Retrieve the claw!”

Mary Macdonald threw both hands up. “Why are we subjects again?”

“Because you lost the war,” Dorcas said.

“There was no war!”

Dorcas smiled. “That’s what losers say.”

Marlene McKinnon barked a laugh.

Lily Evans pinched the bridge of her nose. “We need a solution.”

Remus Lupin, who looked as if he had aged five years in twenty minutes, nodded slowly. “Something they cannot climb out of.”

Peter Pettigrew, who had been hiding behind Gideon since Barty had threatened to bite him for the third time, lifted a cautious finger.

“What about… a playpen?”

Everyone turned to look at him.

Peter shrank. “What?”

James Potter blinked. “Wormtail.”

Peter winced. “Bad idea?”

James looked at the four miniature menaces currently wrestling over a shoe.

Then he looked at Regulus, tiny and calm and sweetly curled against Sirius.

Then back at Peter.

“No,” James said. “That might be the first brilliant thing anyone has said today.”

Peter straightened slightly. “Oh.”

Sirius smirked. “Don’t get used to it.”

Peter’s face fell again. “Right.”

Lily was already moving, wand raised. “Remus.”

“With you,” Remus said instantly.

Alice stepped beside Frank. “How big?”

“Big enough for four children and their crimes,” Frank said.

Mary blew hair out of her face. “Make the bars tall.”

“Very tall,” Marlene added.

Dorcas’s head snapped toward them.

“What bars?”

“No bars,” James said too quickly.

Dorcas narrowed her eyes. “Liar.”

“Tiny queen, I would never.”

“You would always.”

James put a hand over his heart. “Wounded.”

Barty, still wearing the shoe on his hand, shouted, “I’M WOUNDED!”

“No, you’re not!” Mary yelled.

“I might be!”

“You’re wearing a shoe as a weapon!”

“It chose me!”

Pandora grabbed the shoe-claw with both hands. “It chooses me now!”

Evan grabbed Pandora around the middle and tried to drag her backward. “No, it chooses us!”

Barty screamed with laughter and refused to let go.

Frank sighed. “Now?”

Lily’s wand flashed.

Remus’s followed.

The space near the centre of the classroom shimmered. Desks scraped aside. A broad, low structure began to appear, piece by piece, conjured out of pale wood and silver-blue magic. It had padded flooring, high smooth sides, rounded corners, and bars just narrow enough that no small child with a feral streak could reasonably squeeze through.

Marlene looked impressed.

“That is a cage.”

Lily said, “It is a magically reinforced temporary child-safe enclosure.”

James nodded. “A cage.”

“It is not a cage.”

Mary stared at it. “Lily, that’s a baby prison.”

“It is a playpen.”

“With bars.”

“For safety.”

“For captivity.”

“For safety,” Lily repeated, louder.

Dorcas gasped from her chair.

“You are imprisoning us.”

Remus gave her a tired look. “Only until Professor Wilberforce fixes this.”

Professor Wilberforce, still pale at the front of the room with three open books around him, gave a weak thumbs-up that inspired no confidence whatsoever.

Barty immediately turned and ran in the opposite direction.

“No prison!”

Pandora shrieked, “Run!”

Evan yelled, “Fight!”

Dorcas jumped down from her chair and declared, “The queen cannot be contained!”

The next five minutes were ugly.

Not dangerous.

Not truly.

But deeply, deeply undignified.

Frank caught Barty first, mainly because Barty tried to turn around and roar at him mid-run, lost balance, and collided with Frank’s shin. Frank scooped him up under both arms while Barty kicked his legs and laughed so hard he could barely protest.

“I am not captured!”

“You are extremely captured,” Frank said, carrying him toward the playpen.

Barty twisted to look at Mary. “Tell him!”

Mary crossed her arms. “You are extremely captured.”

Barty gasped. “Betrayal!”

Frank deposited him inside.

Barty immediately ran to the bars, grabbed them with both hands, and shook them.

They did not move.

He looked offended.

Dorcas lasted longest.

She dodged Alice, ducked Fabian, pointed Gideon in the wrong direction by shouting, “Look, treason!” and nearly made it under a table before Marlene simply stepped around the other side and lifted her neatly off the ground.

Dorcas froze, suspended under the arms, tiny shoes dangling.

Marlene grinned. “Got you, Your Majesty.”

Dorcas looked down her nose at her with breathtaking dignity.

“You will be executed.”

“Harsh.”

“Eventually.”

“Good to know.”

Dorcas was placed into the playpen beside Barty. She immediately marched to the centre of it and announced, “This is my tower.”

Barty clung to the bars. “It’s a dungeon.”

“A royal tower.”

“A dungeon.”

“My tower.”

“Our dungeon!”

Dorcas ignored him with royal precision.

Evan and Pandora took three people.

Not because they were strong.

Because they were slippery, coordinated, and deeply committed to being inconvenient.

Remus caught Evan around the waist. Evan instantly went limp like a sack of flour and slid almost out of his arms.

“Absolutely not,” Remus muttered, readjusting his grip.

Evan cackled. “I’m boneless!”

“You are not boneless.”

“I am!”

Pandora, meanwhile, had wrapped herself around Alice’s leg and was refusing to let go.

“I live here now!”

Alice looked down helplessly. “Pandora.”

“No.”

“Please let go.”

“No thank you.”

Mary leaned over. “Pandora, if you let go, you can sit next to Evan.”

Pandora immediately released Alice’s leg.

Evan yelled from Remus’s arms, “Pandora!”

Pandora yelled back, “Evan!”

They were set into the playpen at the same time.

They immediately crashed into each other, hugged for half a second, shoved each other away, then began arguing over who had been captured more heroically.

“I was boneless,” Evan said.

“I was a vine,” Pandora argued.

“Boneless is better.”

“Vine is cleverer.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is.”

Barty rattled the bars. “Let me out!”

Dorcas stood beside him, arms folded. “Servants.”

Fabian, sweating slightly, leaned on Gideon.

“Yes, Your Imprisoned Majesty?”

“Open the tower.”

“No can do.”

Dorcas’s eyes narrowed. “Bad servant.”

Gideon nodded. “We’ve had worse reviews.”

The four of them were finally contained.

The playpen held.

For the first time since the spell had exploded, the classroom took one collective breath.

Then everyone turned toward Regulus.

Regulus, still on Sirius’s hip, blinked at the sudden attention.

His small hand tightened in Sirius’s robes.

Sirius’s expression shifted instantly into smug, impossible pride.

“What?” he said, looking around at everyone. “Mine’s perfect.”

James pointed at him. “You are unbearable.”

Sirius tilted his chin up. “My baby brother is sitting quietly and not committing shoe theft. I’ve earned unbearable.”

Regulus looked at him.

“Baby brother?”

Sirius froze for half a heartbeat.

James’s eyes widened.

Lily’s posture stiffened.

Regulus tilted his head, curious rather than alarmed.

“My Sirius calls me that.”

Sirius’s face softened.

“Does he?”

Regulus nodded, cheek brushing Sirius’s shoulder.

“When Mother isn’t there.”

Sirius swallowed.

“Well,” he said quietly, “he sounds clever.”

“He is,” Regulus whispered.

Sirius smiled, then looked at James with such victorious, aching smugness that James immediately rolled his eyes.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.”

Sirius mouthed, perfect.

James mouthed back, menace.

Regulus, unaware of the silent argument happening around him, looked down at his shoes again.

“They’re still tied,” he announced.

Mary immediately clasped both hands together.

“Oh, they are. Look at those perfect little bows.”

Regulus’s cheeks pinked.

Lily moved closer, smiling warmly. “Very neat.”

Remus came to stand on Sirius’s other side, voice calm and gentle. “You did a good job.”

Regulus peeked at him, not hiding this time.

“Both,” he said.

“Both,” Remus agreed.

Alice joined them, still catching her breath from the Pandora leg incident. “I heard one was being mean.”

Regulus nodded gravely.

“This one.”

He lifted one tiny foot slightly, showing the offending shoe.

Frank leaned in with dramatic seriousness.

“That one looks suspicious.”

Regulus looked at him.

Then, softly, “It was.”

Frank nodded. “I knew it.”

Marlene put a hand over her heart. “Bravest thing I’ve seen all day.”

Regulus’s shy smile grew a little.

Not wide.

Not loud.

Just sweet.

A careful, unfurling thing.

The sort of smile none of them had ever seen on the older Regulus Black.

The Regulus they knew was composed, cutting, quiet like a locked door. He moved through corridors as if he expected people to either fear him, judge him, or leave him alone. He had Sirius’s bones but not Sirius’s blaze, a colder star in the same cursed sky.

This Regulus had round cheeks, soft hair, uncertain hands, and pride over two crooked bows.

Mary looked at him as though she might physically melt.

“He’s so sweet,” she whispered.

Sirius heard her and turned, smugness returning full force.

“Isn’t he?”

James groaned. “Oh, no. He’s going to be like this forever.”

“He’s adorable,” Alice said.

“Thank you,” Sirius said, as if personally responsible.

“You didn’t make him,” Marlene said.

Sirius lifted a brow. “No, but I clearly had excellent influence.”

Regulus looked at him, interested.

“You’re very pleased.”

Sirius laughed.

“I am.”

“Why?”

Sirius bounced him gently.

“Because you’re very good.”

Regulus frowned, as if this was new information and needed careful examination.

“I am?”

“Very.”

Regulus looked around at the others.

Lily nodded. “You are.”

Mary nodded too. “Definitely.”

Remus gave him a small smile. “Easiest person in the room.”

From inside the playpen, Barty shouted, “I’M EASY!”

Everyone looked at him.

Barty had his face pressed between two bars.

Mary said, “You bit Peter.”

“I nearly bit Peter.”

Peter, still offended, said, “That does not make it better.”

Barty grinned. “It made it funny.”

Dorcas stomped one foot against the padded floor.

“This tower is boring.”

Pandora had both hands wrapped around the bars and was peering through them like a tiny ghost.

“We are being neglected.”

Evan stood beside her, nodding vigorously.

“Neglected and imprisoned.”

“You’re not neglected,” Lily said.

“You’re literally in the middle of the room,” James added.

Dorcas lifted her chin.

“Entertain us.”

Mary turned slowly. “Entertain you?”

Barty rattled the bars again. “Yes!”

Marlene looked at the playpen.

Then at Lily.

Then at James.

Then at Sirius and Regulus.

“If they’re distracted, they stop trying to escape.”

Remus considered this. “Possibly.”

Frank said, “What distracts children?”

James grinned.

Lily immediately said, “No.”

James pointed at her. “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

“I can tell by your face.”

“It’s a good idea.”

“No.”

“Talent show.”

There was a pause.

Peter blinked. “Actually…”

Mary looked toward the playpen, where Barty had started trying to climb the bars with no success whatsoever.

“That might work.”

Dorcas stopped mid-rattle.

“A show?”

James spread his arms. “A contest.”

Evan and Pandora turned to each other, instantly interested.

Barty gasped. “Can I win?”

“No,” Dorcas said.

Barty whipped around. “You don’t know!”

“I do know.”

“I can make noises.”

“That’s not talent.”

“It is if they’re good!”

Pandora raised one hand. “Can twins count as one person?”

Evan raised his hand too. “Or two winners?”

Lily sighed. “One at a time.”

Sirius glanced down at Regulus. “You want to watch?”

Regulus nodded slightly.

“From here?”

Regulus’s small hand patted Sirius’s shoulder once.

“Here.”

Sirius looked so pleased it was embarrassing.

James caught the expression and pointed at him. “Smug.”

“Correct.”

With some negotiation, some rearranging, and Dorcas insisting that performers must be announced properly because she was “not common,” the Gryffindors pulled a few chairs into a half-circle around the playpen. Professor Wilberforce remained buried in books at the front, muttering to himself about spell reversal theory and occasionally making tiny hopeless noises.

Regulus stayed on Sirius’s hip.

He had no interest in sitting anywhere else.

Sirius had no interest in putting him down.

The other Gryffindors gathered close around them, less because it was necessary and more because Regulus had become the soft, glowing centre of the room. Even Peter, still wary of Barty’s teeth, kept sneaking looks at him as if recalibrating his entire understanding of Regulus Black.

Marlene leaned toward Mary.

“Imagine telling seventh-year Regulus that we saw him like this.”

Mary whispered back, “He’d murder us.”

“He’d try.”

“He’d succeed.”

“Worth it.”

Lily gave them both a warning glance.

Regulus looked up at Sirius.

“What did they say?”

“Nothing important,” Sirius said quickly.

Marlene mouthed, Favourite.

Regulus watched her mouth move.

Then whispered, “What does favourite mean?”

Sirius’s grip tightened just slightly.

“It means they like you best.”

Regulus’s eyes widened.

“They do?”

James leaned forward.

“Obviously.”

Regulus looked startled.

“Why?”

“Because,” James said, counting on his fingers, “you’re quiet, you’re polite, you haven’t stolen any shoes, you tied your laces, and you’re tiny.”

Regulus looked down at himself.

“I’m not tiny.”

Sirius immediately said, “No. You’re very normal-sized.”

James coughed into his fist.

Remus looked away.

Mary’s face did something dangerously soft.

Regulus looked satisfied.

From the playpen, Dorcas clapped sharply.

“Start the show.”

James stood, sweeping into an exaggerated bow.

“Welcome, esteemed guests, criminals, monarchs, and one very well-behaved lace expert—”

Regulus hid his face in Sirius’s shoulder.

Sirius laughed and bounced him.

James continued, “—to the first and hopefully only classroom talent show caused by catastrophic spell mismanagement.”

Professor Wilberforce weakly said, “I did apologise.”

Lily looked over. “Keep reading.”

He ducked back into his book.

James turned toward the playpen.

“First contestant: Pandora Rosier.”

Pandora rose from the padded floor with great drama.

Evan grabbed her sleeve.

“Do good.”

Pandora nodded. “Obviously.”

Remus opened the playpen gate just wide enough to let her out, then immediately closed it again when Barty lunged toward the gap.

“Nice try.”

Barty flopped against the bars. “I wasn’t trying.”

“You absolutely were.”

Pandora stepped into the cleared space in front of the chairs.

Her small Ravenclaw robes swayed around her ankles. Her silver-blonde hair had become a wild halo around her face. She lifted both arms into what might have been a ballet position if ballet had been described to her once in a dream and then forgotten.

Mary whispered, “Oh, this is going to be precious.”

Pandora stuck one foot out.

Then the other.

Then she spun.

It was not graceful.

It was not elegant.

It was, however, deeply committed.

She wobbled, stumbled, recovered, lifted one knee too high, nearly toppled sideways, and threw both arms above her head as if she had meant to do all of it. Her face was serious with concentration, her little mouth pursed, eyes fixed somewhere above everyone’s heads.

She did three tiny hops.

A turn.

A dramatic stumble.

A sweeping arm movement that knocked over an invisible enemy.

Then she finished by dropping into a clumsy curtsy so low she nearly fell onto her nose.

Everyone applauded.

Pandora beamed.

Evan cheered the loudest, slamming both hands against the playpen floor.

“That was the best!”

Barty shouted, “You nearly fell!”

Pandora pointed at him. “On purpose.”

Dorcas considered her. “Acceptable.”

Pandora returned to the playpen with the glowing pride of a prima ballerina receiving roses.

James bowed again.

“Next contestant: Evan Rosier.”

Evan exploded out of the playpen the moment Remus opened it, only to be caught gently by the back of his tiny robes.

“Performance area,” Remus reminded him.

“I knew that.”

He did not know that.

Evan marched into the centre of the room, rolled his shoulders, and dropped into what he clearly believed was a battle-ready stance.

Pandora pressed her face against the bars.

“Do the floor thing!”

“I know!”

“What floor thing?” Peter whispered.

Evan answered by throwing himself onto the floor.

Frank jolted forward. “Oh—”

“He meant to,” Alice said quickly, though she sounded only eighty percent sure.

Evan began what could generously be called breakdancing.

It involved one leg kicking out, one arm windmilling, a dramatic roll onto his back, and several attempts to spin that mostly resulted in him scooting in a circle on his robes. His hair fell into his eyes. His tie flipped over his shoulder. He smacked one palm against the floor and pushed himself into a clumsy half-turn, giggling breathlessly.

“Look!” he shouted. “Look!”

“We’re looking!” Marlene yelled back, delighted.

Evan tried to spin again, got tangled in his own robe, and collapsed flat on his stomach.

There was a beat.

Then he lifted both arms like he had completed a masterpiece.

The room applauded wildly.

Pandora screamed, “EVAN!”

Evan scrambled upright, flushed and proud.

“Did I win?”

James said, “Scores are being carefully considered.”

“They better be.”

Dorcas sniffed. “Too much floor.”

Barty said, “Not enough roaring.”

Evan pointed at him. “Your face has not enough roaring.”

Barty opened his mouth and roared.

Evan looked betrayed by the immediate proof.

James clapped once.

“Speaking of. Next contestant: Barty Crouch Jr.”

Barty bounced so hard in place that Remus had to brace himself before opening the gate.

“Animal noises!” Barty announced before anyone else could say a word.

He ran into the centre and immediately dropped to all fours.

Mary whispered, “I fear this.”

Barty barked.

Loudly.

Then meowed.

Then hissed.

Then made a noise that did not belong to any known animal but was apparently very satisfying because he did it three times. He leapt up, flapped his arms, and squawked like a wounded crow. Then he crouched again and growled.

Peter leaned slightly away.

“That one sounds real.”

Barty snapped his teeth at the air.

“Wolf!”

Remus’s eyebrows lifted.

James slowly turned to look at Remus.

Remus said, “Don’t.”

James turned back, grinning.

Barty roared, squeaked, mooed, and ended with a shockingly accurate cat yowl that made half the class jump.

Marlene clapped so hard her hands echoed.

“That was horrible. Brilliant, but horrible.”

Barty bowed with one hand pressed to his chest.

“I’m the best.”

Dorcas said, “No.”

Barty turned on her. “Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“No.”

James quickly stepped between them before the talent show became a duel.

“And next, Her Majesty Dorcas Meadowes.”

Dorcas stood slowly.

She did not rush to the gate.

She waited for Remus to open it for her, then walked out with tiny, perfect dignity. She took the centre of the room like it was a throne room and everyone else had merely been waiting for her to arrive.

She lifted one hand.

Silence fell, mostly because everyone was afraid to interrupt her.

Dorcas began.

“I am the queen.

I am the best.

I am better

than all the rest.”

Fabian whispered, “Strong opening.”

Gideon nodded. “Bold rhyme scheme.”

Dorcas continued, louder.

“I have a tower.

I have a crown.

If you are silly,

then you must bow down.”

Barty shouted, “No!”

Dorcas pointed at him without breaking rhythm.

“The dragon boy

is very loud.

But I am queen,

and I am proud.”

James covered his mouth.

Lily glared at him, but her own lips were twitching.

Dorcas turned slightly toward the Gryffindors.

“My servants are bad.

They lost a shoe.

But I forgive them

because I’m better than you.”

Fabian clutched his chest. “Art.”

Gideon wiped an imaginary tear. “Devastating.”

Dorcas finished with both arms lifted.

“Thank you.”

Everyone applauded because not applauding felt politically unwise.

Dorcas nodded, returned to the playpen, and sat down as if she had just delivered the definitive work of the century.

Regulus, still in Sirius’s arms, had watched every performance in quiet fascination.

He had not laughed loudly.

He had not joined in.

But he had smiled a few times, especially when Pandora nearly fell and when Evan got tangled in his robe. His small hands rested on Sirius’s shoulders, and every so often Sirius gave him a gentle bounce that seemed to settle him more deeply.

Mary watched him for a moment.

Then her expression brightened.

“Regulus?”

Regulus looked at her.

Immediately shy again, but not as badly as before.

Mary softened her voice. “Do you want a turn?”

Regulus’s eyes widened.

Sirius felt him tense.

“You don’t have to,” Sirius said at once.

Regulus looked at the cleared space.

Then at the playpen.

Barty pressed his face to the bars. “Do animal noises!”

Dorcas said, “Do a poem about me.”

Evan said, “Do floor spinning.”

Pandora said, “Do ballet but don’t fall unless it’s on purpose.”

Regulus blinked at them.

Then leaned closer into Sirius.

“I don’t want to do those.”

Mary stepped closer, gentle and encouraging.

“That’s all right. You can do anything.”

Regulus’s fingers curled in Sirius’s robes.

He looked up at Sirius, voice dropping into a whisper meant only for him but heard by half the room because everyone had gone very still.

“Is there a piano?”

Sirius’s entire face melted.

“A piano?”

Regulus nodded, nervous now that he had asked.

“My mummy taught me to play.”

The room softened again.

In an instant.

Even James’s grin fell into something gentler.

Lily looked at Remus.

Remus was already lifting his wand.

“We can manage a keyboard.”

Lily nodded and moved beside him.

Together, with careful flicks of their wands, they conjured a small keyboard on a stand, just low enough for a child to reach. It shimmered into being in the cleared space, dark and polished, with neat ivory and black keys. A small bench appeared in front of it.

Regulus stared.

His mouth parted slightly.

Sirius looked down at him.

“You want to try?”

Regulus swallowed.

“What if I get it wrong?”

Sirius brushed his thumb once over Regulus’s back.

“Then you get it wrong and nothing bad happens.”

Regulus looked at him for a long time, as if this was a strange concept.

Then he nodded.

Sirius lowered him carefully to the floor.

Regulus stood for a second, small and neat in his tiny Slytherin uniform, both laces still tied. He looked around at the older students, at the playpen, at the keyboard.

The attention made him shrink a little.

Mary crouched slightly.

“You don’t have to be nervous.”

Regulus whispered, “Everyone’s looking.”

James immediately spun around and covered his eyes with both hands.

“I’m not.”

Peter copied him.

“Me neither.”

Marlene turned her back dramatically.

“Couldn’t be me.”

Fabian and Gideon both faced the wall like they had been ordered there by a strict teacher.

Lily smiled.

Regulus looked at them all standing absurdly turned away and seemed to decide that was stranger than being watched.

“You can look,” he said softly.

James instantly turned back. “Brilliant.”

Sirius crouched beside the bench.

“I’ll be right here.”

Regulus climbed onto it, a little clumsily. His legs did not reach the floor. His shoes dangled, laces tied and perfect.

Sirius looked at them, then at him.

“You need help sitting?”

Regulus shook his head.

“I can do it.”

“Course you can.”

Regulus placed both small hands on the keys.

Everyone expected something small.

A nursery tune, maybe.

A slow little melody.

A few careful notes, slightly wrong but sweet. Something childish. Something clumsy. Something matching the soft cheeks, the little hands, the shy voice, the tiny shoes swinging beneath the bench.

Regulus looked at the keys.

He inhaled once.

Then he began to play.

The first notes were quick.

Too quick.

Clean and bright and startling, spilling into the room like water over glass. His fingers moved with impossible certainty, tiny hands darting across the keyboard in a pattern too intricate for someone his age, too controlled, too fast, too alive.

The classroom went utterly silent.

Even Barty stopped moving.

Regulus did not look up.

His face changed.

Not older, exactly.

But focused.

Something natural woke beneath his small features, something private and disciplined and fierce. His little fingers leapt and crossed and returned, striking each note with precision. The melody curled into something classical and complex, bright at the edges, dark underneath, racing forward with a confidence that made the shabby classroom seem, for a moment, like some candlelit drawing room with polished floors and a black grand piano.

Sirius stared.

His mouth had parted slightly.

James slowly lowered himself into a chair.

Lily’s eyes widened, astonished.

Remus went still in that intense way he did when his mind was working quickly behind his face.

Mary’s hands flew to her mouth.

Marlene whispered, “Holy shit.”

Alice breathed, “He’s incredible.”

Frank, very softly, said, “He’s five.”

“Apparently,” Peter whispered.

Regulus kept playing.

Faster now.

The notes ran beneath his hands with dazzling speed, not messy, not frantic, but exact. A ripple of sound, then a sharper sequence, then both hands moving at once in different patterns that should have tangled but did not. His brows drew together slightly. His tongue poked against the corner of his mouth in concentration.

Sirius looked destroyed.

Absolutely ruined.

Proud beyond speech.

Smug beyond survival.

Soft beyond repair.

In the playpen, Pandora gripped the bars.

Evan stared with his whole mouth open.

Barty whispered, “That’s loud but good.”

Dorcas, after a very long pause, said, “Acceptable.”

Fabian leaned toward Gideon.

“He wins.”

Gideon nodded slowly.

“He super wins.”

The piece built.

Regulus’s hands moved in a blur over the keys. The melody swept upward, glittering and sharp, then plunged into something deeper. His shoulders swayed slightly with it, tiny body instinctively following the rhythm. For all his shyness, for all his silence, there was nothing hesitant about the music.

It filled the classroom.

It made every person in it stop.

It made even Professor Wilberforce look up from his books, blinking in bewilderment.

The final run was impossibly fast.

Regulus’s fingers danced across the keys, light and sure, then landed on the last chord with both hands.

The sound hung in the air.

Clear.

Ringing.

Then faded.

Regulus sat very still.

His hands remained on the keys.

No one moved.

No one breathed.

Then James Potter surged to his feet.

“REGULUS BLACK!”

The room exploded.

Applause thundered through the classroom.

Mary screamed.

Marlene whooped.

Fabian and Gideon gave a standing ovation with far more drama than necessary.

Frank clapped so hard he winced.

Alice laughed in astonishment.

Peter looked stunned but clapped along.

Lily was smiling so brightly it softened her whole face.

Remus applauded with quiet, genuine awe.

Inside the playpen, Barty began slapping both hands against the bars.

Pandora clapped fast and delighted.

Evan shouted, “That was better than floor spinning!”

Dorcas lifted her chin and declared, “The queen approves.”

Regulus startled violently at the noise.

Then turned pink from his collar to his ears.

He looked over his shoulder at Sirius, suddenly unsure.

Sirius was still crouched beside him, hands resting on his knees, staring at him like he had hung the moon with those tiny fingers.

Regulus’s voice came out very small.

“Was it good?”

Sirius made a sound halfway between a laugh and a gasp.

“Good?”

Regulus twisted his fingers together.

“I did it too fast.”

Sirius reached for him slowly, giving him time to pull away.

Regulus did not.

Sirius gathered him straight off the bench and back onto his hip, holding him close.

“That was brilliant,” Sirius said, voice thick. “That was the best thing I’ve ever heard.”

Regulus’s eyes widened.

“Ever?”

“Ever.”

Regulus pressed his cheek to Sirius’s shoulder, overwhelmed and glowing.

“My mummy says I have to practise.”

“She’s right,” Sirius said softly. “But you’re already amazing.”

Regulus’s small hand curled at Sirius’s collar.

Mary appeared beside them, practically vibrating.

“Regulus, that was beautiful.”

Regulus peeked at her shyly.

“Thank you.”

Lily came closer too.

“You played wonderfully.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Remus smiled. “I think the contest is settled.”

James threw one arm into the air.

“Winner by an absolutely humiliating distance: Regulus Black!”

Barty shouted, “No! I did a wolf!”

Marlene pointed at him. “You did do a wolf.”

Barty nodded, vindicated.

“But Regulus did whatever that was.”

Barty thought about this.

Then crossed his arms and muttered, “Fine.”

Pandora pressed her cheek to the bars.

“He did fast fingers.”

Evan nodded. “Very fast.”

Dorcas sighed grandly.

“As queen, I allow him to win.”

James bowed toward her. “Generous, Your Majesty.”

Dorcas nodded. “I know.”

Sirius looked around at all of them, one arm secure around Regulus, his expression so smug it was practically a public nuisance.

“Well,” he said, “obviously he won.”

James groaned. “Here we go.”

“My baby brother is a prodigy.”

Regulus lifted his head.

“Prodigy?”

Sirius bounced him gently.

“Means you’re brilliant.”

Regulus absorbed this.

Then whispered, “I tied my laces too.”

Mary made a noise like she had been stabbed by cuteness.

“You did.”

James pointed at him.

“Two talents. Piano and laces.”

Frank nodded solemnly. “A double threat.”

Alice smiled. “Definitely our favourite.”

Marlene leaned in. “Not even close.”

Peter, keeping one wary eye on Barty, added, “He hasn’t tried to bite anyone.”

Barty shouted, “I can hear you!”

“That’s why I said it loudly!”

Regulus smiled properly then.

Small.

Shy.

Sweet as a secret.

Sirius saw it and looked unbearable again.

James looked at Lily.

Lily looked at Remus.

Remus looked at the four children in the playpen, then at the one tucked calmly into Sirius’s arms.

There was no contest.

Not really.

Regulus Black, tiny Slytherin uniform neat, little shoes tied, cheek against Sirius’s shoulder, had won the talent show, the room, and every single Gryffindor heart in less than an hour.

Sirius pressed his cheek lightly against Regulus’s soft black hair and grinned over the top of his head.

“Told you,” he said.

James sighed.

“Yeah, yeah. Your baby brother’s perfect.”

Regulus, half-hidden against Sirius, whispered proudly, “I played piano.”

Sirius held him a little closer.

“You did, love.”

Regulus’s small fingers patted the front of Sirius’s robes.

“And I tied my laces.”

Sirius’s smile softened.

“And you tied your laces.”

From the playpen, Dorcas announced, “I still think my poem was very good.”

“It was,” Lily said quickly.

Barty roared.

Pandora attempted a tiny seated ballet spin.

Evan tried to breakdance in the corner and kicked the bars by accident.

The classroom dissolved back into noise.

But this time, Regulus did not flinch.

He was safe on Sirius’s hip, tucked close and warm, glowing quietly with praise, while every Gryffindor in the room sat around him like he was the gentlest little miracle the spell could have made.

And Sirius Black, smug as sin and soft as starlight, carried his baby brother like he would never put him down again.

The applause eventually fell apart into scattered laughter, breathless praise, and the soft slap of Barty Crouch Jr.’s hands against the inside of the playpen bars.

“I still think I should’ve won,” Barty announced.

“You did a cat noise,” Mary said.

“And a wolf.”

“You startled Peter.”

“That was my best one.”

Peter, from the safety of Remus’s shoulder, looked deeply wounded. “It was not.”

Barty grinned through the gap in his front teeth.

“It was.”

Dorcas Meadowes sat cross-legged in the middle of the playpen with the solemn disappointment of an imprisoned monarch whose subjects had failed to appreciate her art. Her tiny Slytherin robes pooled neatly around her knees. Her chin was lifted. Her hands rested on her lap like she was posing for a royal portrait.

“My poem had themes,” she said.

Fabian Prewett nodded from the nearest chair. “It did.”

Gideon leaned in. “Power. Control. Shoes.”

Dorcas pointed at him. “You understood.”

“I am honoured.”

Pandora Rosier had stopped clapping and was now lying flat on her back, both Ravenclaw-socked feet kicked up against the bars while she hummed something vaguely inspired by Regulus’s piano piece. Evan was beside her, trying to copy the pattern of notes with little taps against the padded floor and getting annoyed every time he forgot which sound came next.

“No,” he muttered. “It went tap-tap-fast-fast-big.”

Pandora rolled her head toward him. “No, it went shiny.”

“That’s not a sound.”

“It was when he did it.”

Evan considered that, then slapped the floor again.

“Shiny.”

Regulus, meanwhile, had retreated back into the safest place in the classroom.

Sirius’s arms.

He sat balanced on Sirius’s hip, cheek resting against the older boy’s shoulder, tiny hands gripping his robes. His face was still flushed from all the attention, and every time someone looked at him too fondly, he tucked his face back into Sirius like a little black-haired moon hiding behind a cloud.

Sirius looked insufferable.

There was no other word for it.

He had one arm firm around Regulus’s middle, the other supporting his legs, and the smile on his face could have powered a small village for a week. He kept glancing down at Regulus’s little tied shoes as if the bows were a personal victory in the long history of mankind.

James Potter watched him for a moment, then said, “You’re going to pull something if you keep smiling like that.”

Sirius did not look away from Regulus.

“Worth it.”

“He played one song and tied two laces.”

“My baby brother is a genius.”

Regulus lifted his head slightly.

“Genius?”

Sirius looked down at him, softening instantly.

“Means very, very clever.”

Regulus thought about that.

Then nodded, as if the explanation had been satisfactory but not especially surprising.

“My mummy says clever boys practise.”

Sirius’s face flickered.

Only for a second.

Only enough that James noticed.

Then Sirius smiled again.

“She’s right.”

Regulus leaned back against him. “I practise.”

“We can tell.”

Mary Macdonald sat on the edge of a desk nearby, chin propped on both hands, gazing at Regulus with shameless adoration.

“He’s actually unreal,” she said. “Like, I know he’s Regulus Black, and I know he’s usually all haunted little prince in the corridor, but look at him.”

Regulus blinked at her.

Mary immediately softened her voice.

“Sorry. You’re just very sweet.”

Regulus’s cheeks pinked again.

“I played piano,” he whispered.

Mary melted. “You did.”

Marlene McKinnon leaned back in her chair and pointed toward the playpen with her thumb. “Compared to the goblin theatre over there, he’s basically a tiny saint.”

“I heard that!” Barty yelled.

“You were meant to!”

Barty pressed his face between the bars. “I am not a goblin.”

Dorcas sniffed. “You are sometimes.”

Barty whipped around. “You’re in prison too.”

“It’s a tower.”

“It has bars.”

“Royal bars.”

Remus Lupin, who had finally managed to reclaim the ruler and return it to the professor’s desk, exhaled slowly. “The distinction feels less important than it did twenty minutes ago.”

Lily Evans stood near the front of the room with Professor Wilberforce, arms folded tightly over her chest. The keyboard had vanished with a soft flick of her wand, leaving the cleared space open again. Her eyes kept moving from the professor’s books to the five children and back again, sharp with worry.

“Professor,” she said, “how long is this going to last?”

Professor Wilberforce looked as though he wished the floor would open and eat him.

Preferably before Sirius got close enough to glare at him again.

“I am attempting to determine that,” he said weakly.

“You said that twenty minutes ago,” Lily replied.

“Yes, well, the situation is slightly more complicated than a standard regression charm.”

James stood and moved closer, leaving Sirius seated with Regulus by the chairs.

“What does slightly mean here?”

Remus joined Lily at the desk, looking over the open books. “It split into five separate beams.”

“And hit five people individually,” Alice added, stepping up beside Frank.

Frank frowned down at the professor’s notes. “Does that matter?”

Professor Wilberforce nodded grimly.

“It may. The original charm was intended to demonstrate a contained emotional echo. It should never have split, and it certainly should not have manifested in a full cognitive and physical regression.”

Peter, who had wandered closer despite himself, blinked.

“Does that mean they’re stuck?”

Sirius’s head snapped up.

“They’re not stuck.”

Regulus startled slightly at the sudden edge in his voice.

Sirius immediately gentled, bouncing him once.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

Regulus looked at his face, then touched one tiny hand to Sirius’s collar.

“You’re loud.”

Sirius swallowed.

“I know.”

“Not bad loud.”

Sirius stilled.

Regulus rested his cheek back down.

“Just loud.”

James, from the professor’s desk, looked over with an expression so fond and pained it nearly ruined him.

Sirius held Regulus tighter.

At the desk, Lily leaned over the book.

“So what reverses it?”

Professor Wilberforce ran a shaking finger down a page.

“The obvious answer would be a Restoration Counter-Charm, but if cast incorrectly it could restore physical age without restoring cognition, or restore memory without stabilising the body.”

Mary went pale.

“No. Absolutely not. We are not doing half-measures.”

“Agreed,” Remus said. “It needs to return all five of them fully.”

“And safely,” Frank added.

“And soon,” Sirius said, voice low.

Regulus looked up again.

“What are you doing?”

Sirius glanced down.

“Trying to fix something.”

“What?”

Sirius hesitated.

The truth sat there, impossible and huge.

You got hit by a spell.

You’re supposed to be sixteen.

You know all of us.

You know me.

I’m your brother.

You don’t remember.

Sirius looked at his tiny face, at the wide grey eyes, at the soft dark hair falling over his forehead.

“Just grown-up things,” he said gently.

Regulus accepted this with the mild disinterest of a child who had already decided grown-up things were mostly boring.

He looked at his laces.

“They’re still tied.”

“They are.”

Sirius kissed the top of his head before he could think better of it.

Regulus did not pull away.

He only blinked, then settled in deeper, warm and trusting.

Sirius went very still again, like every small kindness from this tiny version of Regulus was another impossible gift.

At the front, Professor Wilberforce drew a shaky version of the spell structure on the board. Silver chalk squeaked across black slate.

“The issue,” he said, “is that the spell fractured along the secondary resonance line before impact.”

Lily frowned. “So you need to rejoin the pieces before reversing it?”

“In simple terms, perhaps.”

Remus leaned closer. “But each beam hit a different person. Does that mean each one needs a separate counter-thread?”

“Possibly.”

“Possibly?” Marlene repeated. “That’s not a fun word in this context.”

Professor Wilberforce grimaced. “Magic of this sort is delicate.”

James crossed his arms. “You fired it around a classroom.”

“It was not supposed to fire anywhere!”

“That’s worse!”

Fabian raised a hand from the chairs. “Can I ask a very stupid question?”

Gideon nodded. “That’s his speciality.”

Fabian ignored him. “Why don’t we just cast the opposite of whatever spell made them little?”

The professor looked pained.

“Because the spell did not have a clean opposite. The regression is an accidental manifestation of corrupted resonance, emotional imprinting, and age-state collapse.”

Fabian stared at him.

Then turned to Gideon.

“Did you get that?”

“No.”

“Good. Me neither.”

Inside the playpen, Pandora sat up suddenly.

“Collapse is when things fall down.”

Evan threw himself backward onto the padded floor.

“Like this.”

Pandora nodded. “Yes.”

Barty copied him and flopped dramatically.

Dorcas did not flop.

Queens did not flop.

She did, however, look bored.

“My tower needs cushions.”

“It has padding,” Alice said.

“That’s not cushions.”

Mary looked back at Lily. “Please let the counter-spell involve cushions somehow.”

Lily gave her a look.

“I’m coping through humour.”

“I noticed.”

Professor Wilberforce turned another page, then looked back at the board, brow furrowed.

“If the emotional echo is still attached to the point of impact, then the reversal must pull from the current state backward through the fracture. But if the fracture is unstable—”

“No.”

The voice was soft.

Very small.

Everyone turned.

Regulus had lifted his head from Sirius’s shoulder.

He was looking at the blackboard.

Not at the people.

Not at the room.

At the diagram.

His little brows had drawn together, his eyes focused and bright in a way that suddenly did not look childish at all.

Sirius glanced down at him.

“What was that, love?”

Regulus pointed one tiny finger at the board.

“That’s wrong.”

Silence fell.

Even Barty stopped making fake dying noises in the playpen.

Professor Wilberforce blinked.

“I beg your pardon?”

Regulus’s finger stayed pointed.

“That line. It’s wrong.”

Lily’s eyes flicked to the professor.

James slowly looked from Regulus to the board and back again.

Remus went very still.

Sirius adjusted Regulus higher on his hip.

“You mean the drawing?”

Regulus nodded.

“He made the break backwards.”

The professor stared.

Then turned to the board.

Then back to Regulus.

“The fracture line?”

Regulus nodded again, more certain.

“It didn’t go from the centre out. It went from the outside in and then out again.”

Remus’s mouth parted.

Lily straightened.

Professor Wilberforce’s face changed.

For the first time since the spell had exploded, he did not look panicked.

He looked interested.

“How,” he said slowly, “did you determine that?”

Regulus blinked at him.

“From the shape.”

“The shape?”

Regulus looked at the diagram like the question itself was strange.

“It’s obvious.”

James made a faint sound.

Mary whispered, “Did the five-year-old just call advanced magical fracture theory obvious?”

Marlene whispered back, “I think so.”

Sirius looked unbearably smug again.

“My baby brother.”

Lily held up one finger without looking away from Regulus. “Not now.”

Sirius shut his mouth, though the smugness remained violently present.

Professor Wilberforce took a careful step closer.

“What do you believe the structure should be?”

Regulus looked at Sirius.

“Can I get down?”

Sirius hesitated.

Regulus added, softly, “Please.”

Sirius melted.

“Course.”

He lowered him to the floor with painful care. Regulus landed on both polished shoes, checked automatically that his laces were still tied, then began walking toward the board.

He was so small that the chalk tray was nearly at chest height.

Everyone moved aside.

Slowly.

As if he was something astonishing and fragile.

Regulus stopped in front of the board and looked up at the professor’s diagram.

His little nose wrinkled.

“No.”

Professor Wilberforce swallowed.

“No?”

Regulus shook his head.

“It’s all tangled wrong.”

Frank leaned toward Alice.

“He sounds like he’s talking about shoelaces.”

Alice whispered, “Apparently that was training.”

Regulus reached for a piece of chalk.

He could not reach the tray.

His fingers stretched.

Failed.

He went onto his toes.

Still failed.

His face tightened in annoyance.

Sirius stepped forward instantly.

Regulus turned and looked up at him.

There was a pause.

Then Regulus lifted both arms.

The gesture was small and expectant, and it hit Sirius so hard that James visibly had to look away.

Sirius crouched.

“Up?”

Regulus nodded.

“Need to draw.”

Sirius picked him up beneath the arms, lifting him toward the board so he could reach. Regulus’s tiny shoes dangled. His robes bunched slightly under Sirius’s hands. He reached for the chalk, caught it, and immediately set it to the blackboard with the serious determination of a tiny scholar correcting a room full of idiots.

His free hand pressed flat against the board for balance.

When he moved it, he left behind a small white chalk handprint.

He did not notice.

Mary saw it and made a wounded noise.

Lily pressed her lips together.

James whispered, “Tiny handprint.”

Sirius, holding Regulus under the armpits, looked like he was about to start glowing.

Regulus drew over the professor’s diagram without hesitation.

“Not like this,” he said, rubbing out part of the fractured line with the side of his hand.

This left another chalk print.

“And not like that.”

He drew a curve.

Then another.

Then a branching set of thin lines intersecting at odd angles, more delicate and more complex than anything the professor had put on the board.

Professor Wilberforce slowly moved closer.

Regulus continued, voice quiet but steady.

“The first cast destabilised before the projection phase, so the resonance shouldn’t be mapped as linear fragmentation. It’s recursive. The spell didn’t split once. It folded, rebounded, and then differentiated through contact-specific sympathetic anchors.”

Everyone stared.

James blinked slowly.

Peter looked around helplessly.

“Did anyone get that?”

“No,” Fabian said.

“No,” Gideon agreed.

Mary looked at Lily. “Did you?”

Lily’s brow was furrowed in intense concentration.

“I understood… some of the words.”

Remus, eyes narrowed, said, “I think he’s saying the spell folded back through itself before it split.”

Regulus looked over his shoulder at him.

“Yes.”

Remus looked startled to have been correct.

Regulus added, with the faintest hint of approval, “Sort of.”

Remus looked less startled and more insulted.

“Sort of?”

Regulus returned to the board.

“It’s not a fracture. It’s a nested inversion.”

Professor Wilberforce whispered, “Good heavens.”

Sirius looked at him sharply.

“What does that mean?”

Professor Wilberforce did not answer.

He was staring at the board.

Regulus tapped the chalk against one point of the diagram.

“The original matrix is still intact here, here, and here. But the secondary charge got threaded into the wrong stabilisation layer. If you reverse from the impact points without unthreading the resonance first, you’ll make the bodies go first and leave the mental imprint delayed.”

Mary’s face went blank with horror.

“That sounds bad.”

“It is bad,” Professor Wilberforce said faintly.

Lily’s expression sharpened.

“So he’s right?”

The professor looked at Regulus.

Then at the diagram.

Then at Regulus again.

“Yes,” he said slowly. “I believe he is.”

The room froze.

Regulus, dangling calmly from Sirius’s grip while drawing spell theory above his own head, did not seem impressed by the revelation.

He only reached farther left.

Sirius immediately stepped with him.

Regulus smudged out another line.

More chalk dust coated his palm.

He pressed that hand to the board again for balance.

Another tiny handprint appeared.

Marlene leaned toward James.

“I need someone to preserve those before he turns back.”

James whispered, “I was thinking the same thing.”

Lily heard them.

“No.”

“But—”

“No.”

Regulus drew a spiral.

Then crossed it out.

“No, wait,” he murmured.

The entire room watched as this impossibly small child in a tiny Slytherin uniform frowned at the board like it had disappointed him.

He drew again.

A tighter spiral.

A line through it.

A mark above that.

His handwriting, when he added labels, was childish in shape but absurd in content: uneven little letters spelling out complicated magical terms across the board, some slightly crooked, some squeezed together when he ran out of space.

Professor Wilberforce read over his shoulder and looked increasingly faint.

“Temporal-cognitive overlay,” the professor murmured. “Sympathetic anchor retention. Resonance recursion. Merlin’s beard.”

Sirius looked from him to Regulus.

“Is that good?”

Professor Wilberforce nodded slowly.

“It is… remarkably advanced.”

Sirius grinned.

“My baby brother.”

Regulus paused.

Still held under the arms.

Still halfway up the board.

He looked down at Sirius.

“You keep saying that.”

Sirius froze.

The room held its breath.

Regulus blinked at him.

“My Sirius says that.”

Sirius’s face softened into something helpless.

“Yeah?”

Regulus nodded.

Then, after a thoughtful pause, said, “It’s nice.”

Sirius swallowed.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “It is.”

Regulus returned to the diagram.

The moment passed, but the ache of it stayed in the room.

Professor Wilberforce cleared his throat softly.

“Regulus, could you explain how you arrived at the inversion point?”

Regulus did.

Unfortunately, he explained it like Regulus Black.

“The emotional echo attaches parasympathetically to the projected thaumic current, but because the spell was overcharged before release, the stabilisation thread collapsed into an atemporal feedback loop. The impact state is therefore not the beginning of the regression but the visible consequence of a prior resonance compression inside the casting structure. You need to isolate the compression, invert the recursive thread, and then restore through the primary matrix rather than through the individual anchors.”

Silence.

Deep, blank silence.

Barty leaned his forehead against the bars.

“What?”

Dorcas frowned. “That was too many words.”

Evan nodded. “Bad words.”

Pandora tilted her head. “Pretty words.”

Mary stared at Regulus.

“He’s five.”

Frank said, “He is terrifying.”

Alice said, “He is brilliant.”

James pointed at Regulus with both hands.

“We need to test him when he’s normal again.”

Lily nodded slowly, eyes still on the board.

“Yes.”

Remus looked thoughtful. “Piano, magical theory, probably other things.”

Marlene leaned in. “Imagine if older Regulus can still do all this.”

Sirius glanced around at them, both smug and defensive.

“Of course he can.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Did you know that?”

Sirius paused.

Then lifted his chin.

“I knew he was clever.”

“You did not know he was tiny Mozart with spell diagrams.”

Sirius opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Regulus looked down again.

“What’s Mozart?”

James blinked.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Regulus stared at him for a moment, unimpressed, then looked back to the board.

Professor Wilberforce stepped closer.

“I understand the theory, I think, but I am not certain the rest of the class does.”

“We do not,” Fabian said immediately.

“Not even a little,” Gideon added.

Mary pointed at herself. “I am completely lost.”

Peter raised his hand weakly. “I got ‘bad.’”

Lily ignored them, focused on Regulus. “Can you explain it more simply?”

Regulus sighed.

It was not dramatic.

It was worse.

A tiny, weary sigh, as if this classroom of older students had truly tested his patience.

Sirius made a noise that was almost a laugh and buried it in a cough.

Regulus glanced over his shoulder at the room.

“Fine.”

He shifted in Sirius’s hands.

Sirius adjusted his hold.

“Careful.”

“I am careful.”

“Course.”

Regulus pointed at the diagram.

“It’s like pasghetti.”

Everyone froze.

James’s mouth twitched violently.

Lily’s eyes widened.

Mary pressed both hands over her mouth.

Remus looked at the floor.

Marlene turned away entirely.

Sirius looked like he had just been handed the greatest gift of his life.

“Like what?” James asked, voice strangled.

Regulus frowned at him.

“Pasghetti.”

Sirius’s shoulders shook.

Regulus looked down suspiciously.

“Why are you laughing?”

Sirius immediately forced his face into sincerity.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You sound like it.”

James made a noise like a dying goose.

Lily elbowed him.

Regulus, apparently deciding they were all hopeless, turned back to the board.

“If you have pasghetti,” he said, with grave authority, “and you make it all tangled—”

He drew a messy bundle of lines.

Another tiny handprint appeared beside it.

“—then you can’t just pull one bit and make it fixed. Because then it gets more tangled. You have to find where it looped wrong first.”

He circled part of the bundle.

“This bit.”

Remus’s expression shifted.

“Oh.”

Lily leaned closer.

“So the individual beams are like loose strands?”

Regulus nodded.

“Yes.”

“And reversing each strand separately would pull the knot tighter.”

“Yes.”

Professor Wilberforce stared at the board, eyes widening.

“That is… an unexpectedly clear metaphor.”

Regulus looked pleased for half a second.

Then continued.

“You find the middle tangle. Then loosen it. Then all the other bits can go back where they were.”

He drew five lines emerging from the knot, each one leading to a little point marked with an uneven letter.

B.

P.

E.

D.

R.

Barty pressed his face harder against the playpen bars.

“That’s me.”

Pandora pointed. “That’s me.”

Evan pointed at his own letter. “That one is me.”

Dorcas looked offended.

“Mine should be bigger.”

Regulus glanced over.

“No.”

Dorcas gasped.

Sirius grinned down at him.

Regulus returned to the board as if queens complaining about diagram scale were beneath him.

He drew one final curve around the centre.

“This is where you cast.”

Professor Wilberforce stepped forward.

“There?”

Regulus nodded.

“But not strong.”

“Not strong?”

Regulus looked over his shoulder at him like he was being slow on purpose.

“No. Gentle. If you push, it gets stuck.”

James whispered, “Still pasghetti?”

Regulus pointed the chalk at him.

“Yes.”

James nodded solemnly. “Understood.”

Lily’s mouth twitched.

Regulus tapped the central knot.

“You need a stabilising charm first. Not the counter yet. A soft one.”

Professor Wilberforce frowned. “A containment stabiliser?”

“No.”

He said it so plainly that the professor actually looked embarrassed.

Regulus added, “That would make it hold the wrong shape.”

Remus stared. “So not containment. Loosening.”

Regulus nodded. “But not too loose.”

Frank rubbed the back of his neck.

“This is somehow making sense and making no sense at the same time.”

Alice nodded. “That’s where I am too.”

Regulus drew three little arrows.

“You warm the spell here.”

Mary blinked. “Warm?”

Regulus nodded.

“Like butter.”

Peter stared. “We’ve gone from spaghetti to butter.”

“Pasghetti,” Sirius corrected automatically, then immediately looked far too delighted with himself.

Regulus nodded. “Pasghetti.”

Marlene pressed her knuckles against her mouth.

Lily, fighting for her life, kept her eyes on the board.

“Warm like softening it,” she said.

Regulus nodded.

“So it can move.”

“Then what?” Professor Wilberforce asked.

Regulus looked back at the diagram.

“Then you say the counter from the middle, not at them.”

He pointed toward the playpen and then at himself, still apparently unaware of what the spell had actually done.

“Not at the people.”

Sirius went still.

Lily’s face softened with fresh realisation.

Regulus did not know.

He had no idea that the “people” were himself and the four children currently trapped in the playpen. He did not know the diagram was about his own body, his own mind, his own missing years. He did not know why the professor needed the counter-spell, why Sirius held him like something lost and found, why everyone kept looking at him like he had become a miracle and a wound at once.

He only knew the spell.

He only knew what he had overheard.

He only knew the shape of magic.

Professor Wilberforce seemed to realise it too.

His voice gentled.

“Regulus, do you know what this spell did?”

Regulus looked at him blankly.

“No.”

A small silence.

Sirius’s grip under Regulus’s arms tightened almost imperceptibly.

Regulus continued, calm and factual.

“I wasn’t listening before. It was boring.”

James let out a startled laugh.

Even Lily smiled despite everything.

Professor Wilberforce looked faintly wounded. “I see.”

Regulus added, not unkindly, “And the drawing was wrong.”

Sirius laughed properly then.

Soft but unavoidable.

Regulus looked down at him again.

“What?”

Sirius shook his head, eyes bright.

“Nothing. You’re just brilliant.”

Regulus’s cheeks pinked.

He looked back at the board quickly.

“You have to use this bit.”

He wrote another spell component beneath the diagram.

The letters were wobbly, but the term was so advanced that Remus leaned forward sharply.

“That’s seventh-year theory.”

Professor Wilberforce said faintly, “Beyond seventh-year, actually.”

Remus looked at him.

Then at Regulus.

“Right.”

James pointed again. “Testing him. When he’s back. Immediately.”

Marlene nodded. “Piano. Magic. Probably maths.”

Mary added, “Languages.”

Alice said, “Memory.”

Frank said, “Whether he can still tie his laces.”

Everyone looked at him.

Frank held up both hands. “Important baseline.”

Regulus looked down at his dangling shoes.

“They’re tied.”

Frank smiled. “They are.”

Regulus seemed satisfied.

Professor Wilberforce reached for a fresh piece of chalk.

“Could you mark the incantation sequence?”

Regulus nodded.

Sirius lifted him slightly higher.

Regulus wrote three short lines under the diagram.

His small hand left another chalk print at the edge of the board.

Then another when he leaned sideways.

Then, when he rubbed at his own nose with the back of his hand, he left a faint chalk smear across one cheek.

Mary nearly combusted.

“He’s got chalk on his face,” she whispered.

Sirius looked up.

Regulus turned his head, showing the little white streak.

Sirius’s eyes went soft.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “He does.”

Regulus kept writing, oblivious.

When he finished, he tapped the final line.

“Do this last.”

Professor Wilberforce read it.

His face shifted slowly from confusion to understanding to astonishment.

“Yes,” he murmured. “Yes, that would align the anchors before reversal.”

Regulus nodded.

“And don’t say it angry.”

The professor looked startled.

“Angry?”

Regulus nodded. “It will hear you.”

Peter mouthed, It will hear you?

Remus looked fascinated rather than confused.

“Emotional tone affects the restoration?”

Regulus nodded again.

“That’s what made it go wrong.”

Professor Wilberforce went very still.

Lily’s eyes narrowed. “Professor.”

The professor flushed.

“The class was somewhat disengaged, and I may have overcompensated in projection strength.”

James stared at him.

“You got offended that we were bored and blasted our classmates into children?”

“It was not intentional.”

Barty yelled from the playpen, “I like being blasted!”

Dorcas said, “I don’t. My tower is small.”

Pandora asked, “Are we blasted?”

Evan asked, “Can we get blasted again?”

“No,” everyone said.

Regulus looked at the playpen.

Then at Sirius.

“Why are they in there?”

Sirius glanced at the four children.

Barty was chewing on one of the playpen bars.

Dorcas was watching him with disgust.

Pandora and Evan were trying to braid each other’s ties together.

“They were being a bit loud.”

Regulus nodded.

“They are silly.”

“Very.”

Regulus looked back to the board.

“I’m done.”

Sirius lowered him carefully to the floor.

Regulus landed, steadied himself with one chalky hand against Sirius’s sleeve, and left a tiny white print on the black fabric.

Sirius looked at it.

Then at Regulus.

Then at the mark again.

His face became unbearably fond.

Regulus noticed the chalk on Sirius’s robe and frowned.

“Sorry.”

Sirius crouched in front of him.

“Don’t be.”

Regulus looked worried.

“It made a mess.”

“I like it.”

Regulus blinked. “You like mess?”

Sirius smiled.

“Sometimes.”

Regulus glanced toward the playpen.

“Not that mess.”

Sirius laughed.

“No. Not that mess.”

Lily was still staring at the board. Remus stood beside her, lips moving silently as he traced through the logic. Professor Wilberforce had begun copying parts of Regulus’s corrected diagram onto parchment with frantic care.

James came to stand near Sirius and Regulus, eyes fixed on the board.

“He really figured it out.”

Sirius did not look away from Regulus.

“Yeah.”

“He’s tiny.”

“Yeah.”

“He says pasghetti.”

Sirius’s mouth curled. “Yeah.”

“And he just corrected a professor’s spell theory.”

Sirius’s smile turned proud and sharp and soft all at once.

“Yeah.”

Regulus looked up between them.

“Are you talking about me?”

James grinned down at him.

“We are, yeah.”

Regulus frowned slightly.

“Why?”

“Because you’re very clever.”

Regulus’s cheeks coloured.

“My mummy says clever boys shouldn’t show off.”

Sirius’s face twitched.

James leaned down conspiratorially.

“Your mummy is wrong.”

Regulus’s eyes widened.

Sirius immediately shot James a warning look.

James froze.

Regulus stared at James with scandalised fascination.

“You can’t say that.”

James straightened.

“Right. Sorry. I mean—sometimes showing people how to fix cursed pasghetti is helpful.”

Regulus considered this.

Then nodded slowly.

“That’s different.”

“Exactly.”

Professor Wilberforce looked over from the desk.

“Regulus, one more question.”

Regulus sighed again.

Sirius muttered, “Mood.”

Regulus turned.

“What?”

“If we cast the stabilising charm first, how long before the reversal must follow?”

Regulus looked back at the board.

“Seven seconds.”

The professor blinked.

“Seven?”

“Maybe eight if you’re good.”

Professor Wilberforce paled.

Marlene whispered, “He’s not.”

Lily said, “Marlene.”

Regulus added, “But not nine.”

“Why not nine?” Frank asked.

Regulus looked at him like the answer was self-evident.

“Because then it remembers wrong.”

Frank slowly nodded.

“Right. Obviously.”

Alice patted his arm.

Regulus walked back to Sirius and lifted his arms again without hesitation this time.

Sirius picked him up instantly, settling him back onto his hip.

Regulus tucked himself close, tired now from the drawing, the thinking, the attention. One chalky hand rested on Sirius’s shoulder. The other curled loosely near his collar.

Sirius looked at the white marks on his robes and seemed to treasure every single one.

Mary came closer, voice soft.

“Regulus, that was amazing.”

Regulus hid slightly against Sirius.

“I just looked.”

“You did a lot more than look.”

Lily turned from the board, eyes warm and serious.

“You may have helped fix this.”

Regulus looked at her.

“Good.”

Remus smiled faintly.

“You don’t know what it is.”

Regulus shook his head.

“No.”

“And you still fixed it?”

Regulus considered that.

Then shrugged one tiny shoulder.

“The drawing was wrong.”

James laughed, helplessly delighted.

“The drawing was wrong,” he repeated.

Sirius bounced Regulus gently.

“You hear that? Professor got corrected because his drawing was wrong.”

Professor Wilberforce, shamefaced but too impressed to argue, nodded.

“Yes. Quite.”

From the playpen, Dorcas called, “Can he fix the tower?”

Regulus looked over.

“No.”

Dorcas’s mouth fell open.

Barty began laughing so hard he fell backward.

Pandora pointed at Regulus. “He said no to the queen.”

Evan clutched Pandora’s sleeve. “He’s brave.”

Dorcas glared.

Regulus, safe on Sirius’s hip, did not seem especially bothered.

He leaned his cheek against Sirius’s shoulder again and whispered, “I’m tired.”

Sirius’s smugness vanished into tenderness.

“Yeah?”

Regulus nodded.

“Thinking is big.”

Sirius’s heart did something complicated and painful.

“Yeah, love,” he said softly. “It is.”

James looked at the board again, then at tiny Regulus, then at Lily and Remus.

“We are absolutely testing him when he’s back.”

Lily nodded, still stunned. “Carefully.”

Remus added, “And with his permission.”

Marlene grinned. “And with a piano.”

Mary smiled at Regulus. “And laces.”

Frank said, “Baseline.”

Alice nodded. “Important baseline.”

Regulus’s eyes were already half-lidded against Sirius’s shoulder, but he mumbled, “I can tie them.”

Sirius pressed his cheek to the top of Regulus’s chalk-dusted hair.

“We know.”

At the front of the classroom, Professor Wilberforce stood before the corrected diagram, now surrounded by tiny chalk handprints and one shockingly advanced map of magical restoration theory.

He stared at it like it was a holy text.

Lily took a deep breath.

“All right,” she said. “We have the spell structure. We have the sequence. Seven seconds between stabilisation and reversal.”

Remus nodded. “And do not cast angry.”

James looked at Professor Wilberforce. “Can you manage not angry?”

Professor Wilberforce swallowed.

“I shall do my utmost.”

Barty rattled the playpen bars again.

“I want to do animal noises during the spell.”

“No,” Lily said.

Dorcas lifted her chin.

“I want my tower fixed first.”

“No,” Remus said.

Pandora leaned against Evan.

“I want pasghetti.”

Evan nodded. “Me too.”

Mary exhaled. “Honestly? Same.”

Regulus, almost asleep now in Sirius’s arms, murmured faintly, “Pasghetti gets tangled.”

Sirius smiled into his hair.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “But you untangled it.”

Regulus’s fingers curled once in Sirius’s robes.

Then relaxed.

The room remained messy. The professor remained nervous. The counter-spell still had to be cast, and no one quite trusted that it would go smoothly.

But on the blackboard, between Professor Wilberforce’s failed diagram and Regulus’s corrected one, a trail of tiny chalk handprints marked where a little boy had reached higher than he was supposed to be able to reach.

And somehow, impossibly, he had understood everything.

Professor Wilberforce stood before the board like a man preparing to negotiate with lightning.

The corrected spell diagram glowed faintly in chalk-white lines behind him, a strange and delicate map of fractured magic, tangled resonance, and one small child’s impossible understanding. Tiny handprints still marked the edges of it where Regulus had steadied himself without noticing. The room had gone strangely quiet around them, as if even the walls were holding their breath.

“All right,” Lily said, voice steady. “We need all five of them together.”

Sirius’s arms tightened around Regulus.

Regulus, half-asleep on his hip, stirred slightly and made a small questioning sound into his shoulder.

Sirius looked down at him.

For one second, he did not move.

James saw it. So did Remus. So did Lily.

None of them said anything.

Then Sirius exhaled and pressed his cheek briefly against Regulus’s soft, chalk-dusted hair.

“Okay, love,” he murmured. “Just for a minute.”

Regulus blinked sleepily up at him.

“Where?”

“Just over there.”

Regulus looked toward the centre of the room, where Frank and Alice were already carefully opening the playpen gate. Dorcas stood inside with her arms crossed, suspicious and regal. Barty had both hands on the bars and was bouncing on his toes. Pandora clung to Evan’s sleeve while Evan tried to look braver than he was.

Regulus frowned faintly.

“They’re loud.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to play.”

“You don’t have to,” Sirius said softly. “Just sit there a minute.”

Regulus studied him with tired grey eyes.

“Will you come too?”

Sirius’s face changed.

He swallowed.

“I’ll be right here.”

Regulus considered that.

Then nodded, small and trusting.

Sirius carried him to the centre of the room and crouched down. He set Regulus on the floor with aching care, one hand lingering on his small back even after he had let go.

Regulus sat neatly, tiny Slytherin robes settling around him, legs folded beneath him, laces still tied in crooked bows. He glanced toward the others as Frank guided Barty over and Remus helped Dorcas out of the playpen.

“I don’t want to sit by him,” Dorcas said, pointing at Barty.

Barty pointed back. “I don’t want to sit by her.”

“You may sit near me because I allow it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Frank closed his eyes briefly.

Alice placed Pandora down beside Evan. The twins immediately leaned into each other, whispering too softly for anyone else to hear, both of them staring at the chalk diagram with wide eyes.

Pandora reached for Regulus’s sleeve.

Regulus calmly moved it away.

“No, thank you,” he whispered.

Pandora blinked.

Evan frowned at him.

Barty tried to crawl forward.

Mary caught the back of his tiny robes. “No escaping.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were on all fours.”

“I like the floor.”

Dorcas sat with a dramatic sigh, hands folded in her lap like she was being forced to endure a terrible inconvenience for the sake of her kingdom.

The five of them were finally together.

Small.

Bright-eyed.

Restless.

All wrong.

Regulus sat closest to Sirius, even on the floor, his little body angled slightly toward him. His tired hand rested on one tied shoe.

Sirius stepped back because he had to.

Only two steps.

It looked like it cost him something anyway.

Professor Wilberforce lifted his wand.

“Remember,” Remus said quietly, eyes fixed on the diagram. “Stabilise first. Seven seconds. Then the reversal.”

“Not nine,” James added.

Professor Wilberforce gave him a strained look.

“I am aware.”

Lily’s gaze flicked once to Regulus.

Regulus looked up at the professor’s wand with mild interest, clearly unaware of what was about to happen.

Sirius’s jaw tightened.

Mary whispered, “It’ll work.”

No one answered.

Professor Wilberforce inhaled.

Then he cast.

A soft gold light unfurled from his wand, gentle and thin as thread. It did not strike the children. It wrapped the air around them, circling once, twice, turning the space above their heads warm and shimmering.

Regulus blinked.

Barty looked delighted.

Dorcas looked offended.

Pandora reached for Evan’s hand.

Evan grabbed hers.

“One,” Remus counted softly.

The golden thread tightened.

“Two.”

The chalk diagram on the board flickered.

“Three.”

Professor Wilberforce’s wand trembled.

“Four.”

The light bent inward, gathering toward the centre of the five children.

“Five.”

Sirius stopped breathing.

“Six.”

Regulus turned his head toward him.

“Sirius?” he whispered.

“Seven,” Remus said.

Professor Wilberforce cast the counterspell.

The room vanished in white.

Light burst outward so violently that everyone cried out and covered their eyes. Chairs scraped. Someone swore. Peter yelped. Mary grabbed Marlene’s sleeve. James threw an arm up in front of Lily on instinct. Sirius lunged forward and Remus caught his shoulder before he could stumble directly into the spell.

For one impossible moment, there was nothing but brightness.

No floor.

No classroom.

No sound but the sharp ringing crack of magic knitting itself back together.

Then the light collapsed.

Silence fell.

Slowly, blinking hard against the spots burned into their vision, the Gryffindors lowered their arms.

The five children were gone.

In their place, sprawled across the classroom floor in a loose, groaning heap, were Regulus Black, Barty Crouch Jr., Evan Rosier, Pandora Rosier, and Dorcas Meadowes.

Normal.

Sixteen again.

Full-sized.

Back in their proper uniforms, robes creased and tangled from where they had hit the ground. No tiny shoes. No round cheeks. No gap-toothed Barty. No child-queen Dorcas. No little twins clinging to each other. No small, soft Regulus with chalk on his cheek and crooked bows on his laces.

Barty groaned first.

“What the hell happened?”

Evan shoved himself up on one elbow, face twisted in confusion. “Why am I on the floor?”

Pandora lay flat on her back, blinking at the ceiling.

“I think the ceiling moved.”

Dorcas sat up sharply, hair dishevelled, eyes narrowed.

“Who pushed me?”

“No one pushed you,” Lily said quickly.

Dorcas looked at her like she did not believe a word of it.

Regulus was last to move.

He stirred with a low, annoyed sound, one hand coming up to press against his forehead. His black hair had fallen into his eyes. His robes were rumpled. His expression was dazed, pale, and deeply irritated.

“What,” he said slowly, “was that?”

Sirius stood frozen.

James beside him.

Remus too.

All of them staring.

Regulus pushed himself upright, blinking hard. His gaze moved across the classroom, taking in the fallen desks, the watching Gryffindors, Professor Wilberforce’s terrified face, the chalk-covered board, and the general wreckage.

His eyes narrowed.

Then he looked down.

His laces were messy.

Both of them.

The bows had loosened, one loop nearly undone, the other twisted crookedly against his shoe.

Regulus stared at them.

His face went flat with immediate offence.

“For Merlin’s sake,” he muttered.

He bent forward, fingers moving quickly and precisely.

Loop.

Wrap.

Pull.

Perfect bow.

Then the other.

Loop.

Wrap.

Pull.

Perfect again.

Neat.

Fast.

Effortless.

The Gryffindors melted.

All at once.

Mary made a tiny noise and clutched Lily’s arm.

Marlene pressed both hands over her mouth.

Alice looked like she was fighting a smile so hard it might hurt.

Frank stared at the laces like they had personally wounded him.

Peter whispered, “He fixed them.”

Fabian whispered back, “Immediately.”

Gideon nodded faintly. “Baseline confirmed.”

James looked ready to collapse.

Remus shut his eyes for one second, mouth twitching.

Lily’s expression softened beyond saving.

And Sirius—

Sirius Black looked at his brother sitting on the floor, older again, sharp again, confused and annoyed and completely unaware, with perfectly tied laces at his feet.

His face crumpled into the smallest, fondest smile.

Regulus looked up at all of them staring.

“What?”

No one answered.