Work Text:
By the time the final performance arrived, the classroom had endured nearly an hour of music.
Calling all of it music was generous.
The lesson had begun with an explanation from the professors about the relationship between Muggle English, personal writing and musical expression. Muggles, unable to rely upon charms, enchanted instruments or melodies that physically altered themselves to suit their performers, had developed countless genres through which they shaped their experiences into songs. The assignment had therefore been designed to make the students consider how magic might be incorporated into that same process without replacing the writing itself.
They had been instructed to write something based upon their own lives.
They had been told to select whatever genre suited them.
They had been encouraged to use the instruments arranged along the front wall, although none of them were required to do so.
The results had been varied.
Varied, in this instance, meant uniformly short, awkward and only just competent enough to avoid disaster.
Sirius had performed first with the confidence of someone convinced that enthusiasm could disguise an almost complete absence of melody. It could not. He had strutted from one side of the classroom to the other, snapping his fingers whenever he forgot what came next and inventing several lines on the spot when he realised his song had ended too soon.
“It was meant to finish like that,” he had insisted when the final note came out as a strangled noise.
“You forgot the ending,” Remus said.
“I created an abrupt artistic conclusion.”
“You rhymed ‘life’ with ‘life’ four times,” Lily pointed out.
“It was repetition.”
“It was the same word.”
“It represented emotional stagnation.”
“It represented you writing it during breakfast,” Regulus said from the back row.
Sirius had pointed accusingly at him.
“You haven’t gone yet.”
“I am aware.”
“You’ll regret mocking me when you’re standing up there.”
Regulus had merely looked down at the parchment resting across his knees.
James had followed with something loud, cheerful and rhythmically aggressive. He had selected a hand drum from the instruments, discovered within seconds that he possessed no sense of restraint and struck it hard enough to make Peter flinch every time his palm came down.
“Could you possibly hit it any louder?” Mary had shouted over him.
James had beamed.
“Yes.”
“That wasn’t encouragement!”
By the time he finished, his hands were red, Sirius was applauding above his head, and Marlene was demanding to know whether he had written a song or declared war upon the drum.
Peter’s performance had been quieter. He had sung only six lines before stopping so suddenly that everyone continued staring at him, waiting for another verse.
“That’s it,” Peter said.
“That was barely thirty seconds,” Fabian replied.
“It felt longer while I was up there.”
“It felt longer from here too,” Gideon said.
Peter threw a crumpled scrap of parchment at him.
Remus had chosen something spoken rather than properly sung, delivering it with enough control that nobody interrupted until he reached a rhyme so painfully forced that his own expression tightened.
Sirius leaned towards James.
“He hates it.”
“He’s going to pretend that word has always been pronounced like that.”
“It has,” Remus said without looking at them.
“It absolutely has not,” Lily replied.
“It does now.”
Lily’s own song had been neat, concise and carefully written, though her voice had wavered whenever she tried to sustain a note. Mary had encouraged her with increasingly enthusiastic nods. Alice had smiled throughout. James had sat so upright that he appeared in danger of injuring himself with attention.
When Lily finished, James began clapping before anyone else.
“You were brilliant.”
“I was adequate.”
“Brilliantly adequate.”
“Thank you, Potter. Somehow that was worse.”
Mary’s performance had involved a quick rhythm tapped against the side of a tambourine and a great deal more confidence than accuracy. She lost her place halfway through, laughed, skipped two lines and continued from a completely different section.
“That wasn’t where you were,” Marlene told her.
“I know.”
“You missed half of it.”
“I improved the pacing.”
“You panicked.”
“I panicked with charisma.”
Marlene attempted something much louder, planted one foot upon a chair and nearly knocked it over when she leaned too far forward. She recovered without pausing, although the recovery involved seizing Frank by the shoulder.
Frank stared up at her.
“Am I part of the performance now?”
“Yes.”
“What am I meant to do?”
“Look supportive.”
“I am frightened.”
“That will do.”
Alice’s song was pleasant enough until she reached the final note, which rose unexpectedly, vanished entirely and returned in a different key. She covered her mouth. Frank applauded immediately.
“That was lovely.”
“My voice disappeared.”
“It came back.”
“Not where I left it.”
Frank’s own performance consisted of a handful of carefully constructed lines delivered with the expression of someone giving evidence before a court. He stood perfectly still, stared directly ahead and refused to move even when Fabian began waving both hands in an attempt to make him relax.
“Stop that,” Frank said in the middle of a line.
“You look terrified.”
“You are making it worse.”
“Imagine we aren’t here.”
“There are fifteen of you.”
“Imagine harder.”
Fabian and Gideon had refused to perform together after each accused the other of attempting to steal his ideas. Their songs were in completely different styles, although both somehow involved a great deal of unnecessary hand movement.
Fabian ended his with an elaborate bow.
Gideon stared at him. “You didn’t even sing the last line.”
“I was letting the music speak.”
“There wasn’t any music.”
“The silence spoke.”
“It called you an idiot.”
Barty had selected the loudest genre he could manage without knowing how to play any of the available instruments. He compensated by striking two wooden sticks together and shouting most of his song with wild, delighted conviction.
“Is this the chorus?” Evan called.
“It’s all the chorus!”
“That explains nothing!”
“It doesn’t have to!”
Barty finished by flinging both arms wide. One of the sticks slipped from his hand, flew across the room and landed beside Peter’s shoe.
Peter looked down at it.
“Was that part of it?”
“Everything I do is part of it.”
Evan’s performance was smoother, although he had clearly spent far more time arranging his posture than refining the lyrics. He leaned against the professor’s desk, delivered his short song with a knowing half-smile and looked entirely untroubled when his voice cracked on the final word.
Barty slapped a hand over his mouth.
Pandora blinked slowly.
Dorcas lowered her head.
Evan remained leaning against the desk.
“No one heard that.”
The classroom erupted.
“It squeaked,” Sirius said.
“It did not.”
“It begged for mercy,” James added.
“I heard it attempt to escape through a window,” Mary said.
“You are all deeply irritating.”
Pandora’s song wandered between soft, airy notes and peculiar changes in rhythm that nobody appeared able to predict, including Pandora. She stopped twice to listen to something no one else could hear, adjusted the pattern and then ended with a contented little nod.
“Was it meant to do that?” Lily asked.
“Yes,” Pandora said.
“What did it do?”
“It changed its mind.”
Lily considered that.
“Fair enough.”
Dorcas had gone immediately after her and performed with her hands in her pockets, looking as though she had been inconvenienced by the existence of the assignment. Her song was blunt, short and more spoken than sung.
When she finished, Marlene said, “That sounded like a threat.”
“It wasn’t.”
“It definitely was.”
Dorcas returned to her chair.
“Then take it personally.”
That left Regulus.
His name remained alone upon the board.
The room had grown increasingly comfortable as each performance passed. Any embarrassment had become shared rather than individual. No one had been particularly good, but no one had been catastrophically terrible either. Their songs had been awkward, rushed and obviously written by students who had never been expected to create music before.
Good enough for reasonable marks.
Nothing more.
Regulus had remained silent throughout all of it.
He sat beside Barty, with Evan on Barty’s other side and Pandora and Dorcas behind them. His parchment had stayed folded upon his lap. He had offered the occasional comment, but he had not joined the louder conversations between performances.
Now every face turned towards him.
Sirius twisted around in his chair.
“Your turn.”
“Yes,” Regulus said.
Barty leaned closer. “Are you going to sing?”
“That is generally involved in performing a song.”
“You could do what Lupin did.”
Remus looked over. “I sang.”
“You spoke moodily in rhythm.”
“I sang more than you did.”
“I screamed musically.”
“You screamed.”
“Musically.”
Regulus rose before the discussion could continue.
There was no dramatic announcement. He did not unfold his parchment. He did not bring any notes with him at all.
He simply walked towards the instruments.
James watched him pass the first row and murmured, “What’s he choosing?”
“Hopefully not the drum,” Peter replied.
James looked wounded. “What was wrong with the drum?”
“You attacked it.”
“I played it.”
“It may never recover.”
Regulus stopped beside the collection of instruments and reached for the acoustic guitar.
The low murmur in the room faltered.
Sirius frowned.
Regulus lifted the strap over his shoulder, adjusted it and settled the body of the guitar against himself with careful familiarity.
Sirius’s frown deepened.
“You can’t play that.”
Regulus looked at him.
“I can.”
“Since when?”
“Since this assignment.”
There was a moment of silence.
James glanced between them. “You learnt an instrument for one homework assignment?”
“I taught myself enough to perform the song.”
“How long did that take?” Frank asked.
Regulus checked one of the strings with his thumb.
“Long enough.”
Barty’s grin spread slowly across his face.
“You sneaky bastard.”
Evan leaned back in his chair, studying Regulus with new interest. “You never mentioned this.”
“Nobody asked.”
“I didn’t know there was anything to ask about.”
“That is rarely an obstacle for you.”
Dorcas gave a quiet snort.
Pandora rested her chin upon her hand. “His fingers have been sore.”
Evan turned to her. “You knew?”
“I saw them.”
“And you didn’t ask?”
“They looked busy.”
Sirius was still staring at the guitar.
“You taught yourself.”
“Yes.”
“In a few weeks.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Regulus’s fingers settled over the strings.
“For the assignment.”
“That is the most deranged approach to homework I’ve ever heard,” Mary said.
Lily glanced towards James.
“More deranged than hitting a drum until it became a cry for help?”
James crossed his arms. “I had passion.”
“You had no volume control.”
Regulus looked towards the professors.
They nodded for him to begin.
The classroom quietened.
Not the restless silence that had preceded the others, full of shuffling feet and suppressed remarks. This silence sharpened naturally, drawn towards the centre of the room by the first soft movement of Regulus’s hand.
His thumb brushed across the strings.
The opening chord was simple.
Clean.
It settled into the room with a warmth none of the enchanted instruments had managed to create beneath anyone else’s hands. Regulus listened to it fade, adjusted his grip almost imperceptibly and played the next.
Then another.
A slow pattern formed.
Nothing extravagant. Nothing flashy. The guitar did not play itself. No charm guided his fingers or corrected the pressure of his hand. Whatever magic he intended to incorporate into the performance remained subtle enough that nobody could identify it yet.
Regulus lowered his gaze to the strings.
When he began to sing, his voice was so quiet that everyone leaned closer without realising they had moved.
“Pushing past the limit,” he sang.
Sirius’s mouth opened.
The voice that emerged from his younger brother bore no resemblance to the stiff, reluctant sounds everyone else had dragged through their songs. It was deep without being heavy, smooth without becoming theatrical. There was a softness beneath it, a lightness that carried the words clearly through the room.
“Trippin’ on hallucinogenics.”
James slowly lowered his arms.
Peter’s eyebrows climbed.
Remus stopped turning his quill between his fingers.
Regulus’s hand moved steadily across the strings, the rhythm quiet and controlled.
“My cigarette burnt my finger,” he continued, his voice barely above the guitar. “‘Cause I forgot I lit it.”
Marlene stared.
Mary stared harder.
Alice’s lips parted.
Frank turned towards Alice as though checking whether she was hearing the same thing, only to discover her already looking back at him.
Neither spoke.
Regulus moved into the next chord without hesitation.
“Rippin’ with my sinners,” he sang, and the edge of his voice strengthened around the words. “‘Cause fuck it, man, I ain’t no beginner.”
Barty’s entire face lit with savage delight.
“There he is,” he whispered.
Evan elbowed him without looking away from Regulus. “Quiet.”
“I barely said anything.”
“You are vibrating.”
“I’m impressed.”
“So is everyone else.”
That was true.
Fabian had leaned so far forward that his elbows rested upon his knees. Gideon sat beside him with his head tilted, his earlier grin completely gone beneath genuine attention.
Sirius had not moved.
“And then I crawled back to the life,” Regulus sang, drawing the last word out over the guitar’s deepening rhythm, “that I said I wouldn’t live in.”
The first trace of magic appeared then.
It did not rise from the guitar in visible sparks. No phantom instruments joined him. The air simply seemed to gather around the notes, making them fuller without making them louder. The strings held their sound for a fraction longer than they should have, each chord slipping naturally into the next.
Lily’s eyes narrowed in concentration.
“He’s extending the resonance,” she murmured.
Remus nodded. “Not enough to replace the playing.”
“Just enough to support it.”
James looked at them. “He can do that while singing?”
“Apparently,” Lily said.
Regulus’s fingers changed position.
“‘Cause I just couldn’t open up,” he sang. “I’m always shiftin’.”
His voice remained soft, but it was no longer tentative. The smoothness of it wrapped easily around the melody. Every syllable landed where it belonged.
“Go find yourself a man,” he continued, “who’s strong and tall and Christian.”
Marlene’s head snapped towards Mary.
Mary was already looking at her.
“Oh,” Mary whispered.
“What?”
“That was pointed.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Listen to him.”
“I am listening. I’m listening so hard I may never recover.”
James looked from Mary to Regulus and back again. “Why are you whispering?”
“Because he can actually sing,” Mary replied.
“So?”
“So I don’t want to ruin it.”
James closed his mouth.
Regulus played the opening progression again.
Only this time, there was more force behind it.
The tempo began to rise.
Not abruptly. It gathered itself beneath his hands, the guitar becoming sharper and more insistent as he repeated the melody. His shoulders loosened. His fingers moved faster. The restrained softness of the first verse began opening into something stronger.
“Pushing past the limit,” he sang again, louder now.
Barty gripped the edge of his desk.
“Trippin’ on hallucinogenics.”
Regulus’s voice climbed over the guitar without strain.
Evan’s eyebrows rose.
Pandora smiled.
Dorcas sat upright, all traces of her usual indifference disappearing.
“My cigarette burnt my finger,” Regulus sang, the rhythm driving forward beneath him, “‘cause I forgot I lit it.”
Sirius blinked at him.
Regulus did not look towards anyone. His attention remained upon the song, though he no longer watched his hands. He had played the sequence enough that his fingers found every chord without guidance.
“Drunken in Seattle,” he sang.
Fabian’s eyes widened.
“Two more Xans and without a paddle.”
Gideon slowly turned towards his brother.
Fabian mouthed, What?
Gideon shook his head once, still staring at Regulus.
The magic threaded through the music more clearly now. The guitar’s resonance followed the increase in energy, sharpening the rhythm while leaving every note unmistakably produced by Regulus’s own hands.
“I don’t remember your face,” he sang, “or your hair, or your name, or your smile.”
Alice looked as if she had forgotten how to blink.
Frank’s gaze moved from Regulus’s fingers to his face and back again.
“That’s an actual song,” Peter whispered.
Remus glanced at him.
“What did you think it was?”
“No, I mean—it sounds like an actual song.”
“You’re right,” Lily said quietly.
It did.
Not an assignment stretched into melody. Not a handful of lines written because a professor had demanded them. The verses connected. The repeated phrases returned with purpose. The instrumental pattern built underneath them instead of merely accompanying them.
There was structure.
There was control.
There was a proper song hiding inside the classroom, and Regulus had apparently arrived knowing exactly how to uncover it.
“‘Cause I just couldn’t open up,” he sang again, stronger this time. “I’m always shiftin’.”
The note at the end slid smoothly down into the next chord.
“Go find yourself a man,” Regulus continued, his voice opening fully, “who’s strong and tall and Christian.”
Mary seized Marlene’s wrist.
Marlene whispered, “I heard it.”
“That was even more pointed the second time.”
“I know.”
“What do you think it means?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think he’ll tell us?”
“No.”
“Do you think Barty knows?”
Barty looked over without taking his eyes from Regulus.
“I can hear you.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
“You answered too quickly.”
“Shut up. He’s getting to the good part.”
Regulus struck the next chord harder.
The increase in volume should have made the song rougher. Instead, his voice became clearer. It remained deep and smooth, but the earlier lightness transformed into energy. The melody accelerated beneath him.
“Pushing past the limit,” he sang.
His fingers moved cleanly across the strings.
“Trippin’ on hallucinogenics.”
James leaned towards Sirius.
“Did you know he could do any of this?”
“No.”
“You’re his brother.”
“I’m aware.”
“You look offended.”
“I am offended.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s apparently been hiding an entire voice.”
Regulus’s guitar drove forward.
“And then I crawled back to the life,” he sang, “that I said I wouldn’t live in.”
Sirius stopped speaking.
The final word rang across the room.
Then the rhythm changed.
Regulus’s hand slowed.
The sharp momentum dissolved beneath his fingers until the guitar returned to something gentler than before. The magic followed the shift. The sustained notes softened, lingering like breath rather than echo.
His voice dropped with them.
“‘Cause I carried on like the wayward son,” he sang, the line emerging low and quiet, “and now through and through, I’ve come undone.”
The entire room seemed to contract around him.
Nobody shuffled.
Nobody whispered.
Even Barty had gone completely still.
Regulus’s gaze lowered once more, dark lashes casting faint shadows beneath his eyes as his fingers traced the slow progression.
“And now I am just but the wayward man,” he sang, “what with my bloodshot eyes and my shaky hand.”
Pandora’s smile faded into something intent and thoughtful.
Dorcas’s lips parted slightly.
Evan’s posture lost its easy slouch. Both arms now rested upon his desk, his attention fixed wholly upon Regulus.
The guitar gave a low, warm hum beneath the next line.
“‘Cause I carried on like the wayward son,” Regulus repeated, “and now through and through, I’ve come undone.”
Remus looked down briefly, as though studying the construction of the verse in his head.
Lily whispered, “He changed the rhythm without losing the melody.”
Remus nodded.
“And brought the first progression beneath it.”
“That’s difficult.”
“He taught himself.”
Lily looked at Regulus again.
“I know.”
“And now I am just but the wayward man,” Regulus sang, his voice nearly as quiet as it had been at the beginning, “what with my bloodshot eyes and my shaky hand.”
Sirius’s hands had curled around the edge of his chair.
James glanced at him, but for once said nothing.
Regulus allowed the last chord to linger.
One heartbeat.
Two.
Then his fingers returned to the opening pattern.
“Pushing past the limit,” he sang.
Soft again.
Not uncertain.
Controlled.
“Trippin’ on hallucinogenics.”
The room seemed to breathe with the guitar.
Regulus’s voice moved across the final lines with the same deep smoothness that had first silenced everyone, but it now carried the weight of everything that had come between the first verse and the last.
“My cigarette burnt my finger,” he sang.
His fingers brushed the final chord.
“‘Cause I forgot I lit it.”
The sound held.
The small piece of resonance magic suspended it just long enough for the note to settle gradually into silence rather than ending at once.
Regulus kept his hand over the strings.
No one moved.
The silence after Sirius’s performance had been confusion.
The silence after Peter’s had been uncertainty.
The silence after Regulus’s was shock so complete that the entire class appeared to have forgotten what traditionally followed a performance.
Regulus looked up.
His face remained composed, though his breathing had quickened slightly from the louder middle section.
The guitar rested against him.
He waited.
The professors were staring.
Sirius was staring.
James was staring.
Peter was staring.
Remus’s quill had slipped from his fingers at some point and lay forgotten across his parchment.
Lily’s mouth had fallen open.
Mary still had both hands locked around Marlene’s wrist.
Marlene appeared not to notice.
Alice was holding her breath.
Frank looked as though someone had just informed him that gravity was optional.
Fabian and Gideon were frozen in nearly identical positions.
Barty had both palms flattened against the desk.
Evan’s eyebrows remained raised.
Pandora’s eyes had gone very wide.
Dorcas had abandoned every attempt to appear unimpressed.
Regulus glanced down at the guitar and then back at them.
“Have I finished too early?”
That broke the room.
Barty shot to his feet so violently that his chair scraped backwards.
“What the fuck was that?”
Regulus blinked.
“The song.”
“No, it wasn’t!”
Regulus looked faintly puzzled. “It was.”
“That was not a classroom song!”
“It was performed in a classroom.”
“You know what I mean!”
Barty rounded the desk, gesturing wildly at him.
“You let all of us stand up there making noises like injured livestock, and then you do that?”
Evan turned in his seat. “You made noises like injured livestock.”
“You hit two sticks together,” Dorcas added.
“I was creating percussion.”
“You nearly concussed Peter,” Lily said.
Peter nudged the fallen stick farther away from himself with his shoe.
Barty pointed at Regulus. “He taught himself the guitar.”
“We established that,” Evan replied.
“For one assignment!”
“We established that too.”
“And then he wrote an actual song!”
“Yes, Barty.”
“And he can sing!”
“Yes.”
“Why are you calm?”
“I am not calm. I simply possess dignity.”
Evan looked back at Regulus.
“That was extraordinary.”
Regulus’s fingers tightened slightly around the neck of the guitar.
“Thank you.”
Pandora rose more slowly.
“The magic followed your breathing.”
Regulus nodded. “It was meant to follow the changes in volume.”
“It did.”
“You noticed?”
“I could feel it in the desks.”
Dorcas stood beside her. “You could’ve warned us.”
“About what?”
Dorcas stared at him.
“All of it.”
“I assumed everyone had written a song.”
“We had,” Frank said.
Alice turned towards him.
Frank hesitated.
“Technically.”
“Mine was a song,” James protested.
Marlene finally found her voice.
“Yours was a public beating performed upon an instrument.”
“It had a chorus.”
“You repeated the same thing because you forgot the next line.”
“That made it a chorus.”
“No, it made you forgetful.”
Mary released Marlene’s wrist and pointed at Regulus.
“You sounded professional.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
“He did,” Alice said at once.
Her voice emerged more loudly than expected, and she cleared her throat before continuing.
“It sounded complete. Properly complete. Like it already existed and we’d simply never heard it.”
Frank nodded quickly. “It didn’t sound like an assignment.”
Regulus looked from one to the other.
“It was an assignment.”
“That is not what they mean,” Remus said.
Regulus shifted the guitar slightly.
Remus retrieved his quill from the parchment but did not look away from him.
“The repetitions changed each time,” he said. “You didn’t merely return to the same chorus. The volume and tempo altered what the words were doing.”
Regulus’s expression changed almost imperceptibly.
“You noticed that.”
“Yes.”
Lily pushed herself to her feet.
“And the resonance charm was precise.”
“It was basic.”
“It may have been a basic charm, but you adjusted it while playing an instrument you taught yourself and singing a song you wrote.”
Regulus looked at the guitar.
“When you say it like that, it sounds more complicated.”
“It was complicated,” Lily replied.
Peter raised his hand despite there being no reason to do so.
“I’d like to say, officially, that mine was not an actual song.”
“It was six lines,” Sirius said.
“I know. That’s why I’m withdrawing it from comparison.”
Fabian stood.
“I’m withdrawing mine too.”
Gideon followed him. “Coward.”
“Yours had seven words in the chorus.”
“They were strong words.”
“You repeated one of them five times.”
“It was memorable.”
“I don’t remember it.”
“That sounds like a personal failure.”
Sirius still had not stood.
He looked at Regulus with narrowed eyes, as if trying to locate the exact point at which his younger brother had acquired an entire hidden collection of abilities.
Regulus noticed.
“What?”
“You can sing.”
“So everyone keeps saying.”
“You can actually sing.”
“I was here.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Regulus’s eyebrows drew together.
“When would that have come up?”
“Any time!”
“That seems unlikely.”
“You could have said, ‘Hello, Sirius. I can sing shockingly well and have decided not to mention it until I can humiliate an entire classroom.’”
“I did not humiliate anyone.”
Sirius swept one arm around the room.
James pointed to himself. “I feel slightly humiliated.”
“So do I,” Mary said.
Marlene raised her hand. “Deeply.”
Frank nodded. “Quite a lot.”
Alice gave Regulus an apologetic smile. “Only by comparison.”
Evan looked towards Barty. “You should feel the most humiliated.”
Barty placed a hand against his chest.
“I feel proud.”
“You did scream while hitting wood together.”
“I created an atmosphere.”
“You created a headache.”
Barty ignored him and approached Regulus.
“You’re doing it again.”
Regulus stepped back slightly. “Doing what?”
“The song.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I have already performed it.”
“I wasn’t prepared the first time.”
“That is not my concern.”
“I need to hear it now that I know it’s going to be good.”
“You heard the entire thing.”
“I was in shock.”
“That sounds like your concern.”
Barty grinned at him.
“You loved it.”
“I tolerated it.”
“You went louder in the middle.”
“That was the structure.”
“You were enjoying yourself.”
Regulus’s expression flattened.
“No.”
“You absolutely were,” James said.
Regulus turned towards him.
James was on his feet now, leaning both hands upon the desk.
“You changed completely.”
“I remained in the same place.”
“Not physically.”
“Then your statement was inaccurate.”
James laughed once, still looking astonished.
“You started all quiet, and then it was like you forgot we were here.”
“I did not forget.”
“You looked as if you did.”
“He didn’t look nervous at all,” Peter said.
“He wasn’t,” Pandora replied.
Regulus glanced at her.
Pandora tilted her head.
“Not after the first four chords.”
“How can you tell?” Marlene asked.
“His shoulders stopped being close to his ears.”
Every eye in the classroom returned to Regulus’s shoulders.
Regulus immediately stiffened them.
Pandora smiled.
“They’re doing it again.”
“Stop observing me.”
“I don’t know how.”
Dorcas moved around the desks to stand beside Barty.
“Was that really the first thing you’ve ever written?”
Regulus considered the question.
“The first song.”
“And the first time you’ve played in front of anyone?” Evan asked.
“Yes.”
“And the first time you’ve sung in front of anyone?” Alice added.
“Yes.”
Mary made a helpless noise.
“No.”
Regulus looked at her. “No?”
“I reject that.”
“You cannot reject something that happened.”
“I can emotionally reject it.”
Lily folded her arms.
“How much did you practise?”
“Enough.”
“That is not a quantity.”
“It is the relevant quantity.”
“Did you practise every day?”
Regulus hesitated.
Sirius caught it.
“You did.”
“I had to learn.”
“For how long every day?”
“That varied.”
“Regulus.”
“Until I could play it.”
Sirius stared at him for another second and then laughed in disbelief, dragging both hands down his face.
“Of course you did.”
Regulus’s eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”
“It means you couldn’t just write eight terrible lines like the rest of us.”
“Mine had nine,” Gideon said.
Fabian frowned. “No, it didn’t.”
“It did before I forgot one.”
“That means it had eight.”
“It existed conceptually.”
Sirius pointed towards Regulus without looking away from Gideon.
“He wrote verses.”
“I had verses,” James argued.
“You had a loud section and a louder section.”
“They were distinct.”
“No one could tell.”
James turned towards the professors.
“They could tell.”
The professors were still recovering.
One finally lowered the sheet intended for marking performances. The quill hovering beside it had not written anything since Regulus began the second verse.
“That was considerably beyond the expected standard.”
Regulus shifted his weight.
“Is that good?”
The question produced another round of incredulous noises.
“Yes,” Lily said.
“Obviously,” Mary added.
“Painfully,” Marlene said.
“Offensively,” Barty declared.
The professor glanced towards the silent quill and tapped the parchment. It began scribbling so rapidly that the feather blurred.
“The assignment was to examine how personal experience might be shaped through a Muggle musical form, while incorporating magic in a way that complemented rather than replaced the writing and performance.”
Regulus nodded.
“The resonance charm was controlled throughout,” the professor continued. “You allowed it to support the guitar without concealing the fact that you are still a beginner.”
James looked at Regulus’s hands.
“That was beginner playing?”
Regulus glanced down. “Obviously.”
“No,” James said. “Not obviously.”
“It was a limited chord progression.”
Remus looked mildly offended on behalf of the rest of the room.
“You say that as though any of us know what a chord progression is.”
Lily raised her hand slightly. “I know what one is.”
Remus nodded. “Lily knows. The rest of us were making sounds near instruments.”
“I knew what I was doing,” Sirius said.
Regulus looked at him.
Sirius paused.
“I knew some of what I was doing.”
“You clicked your fingers off-beat,” Peter said.
“That was deliberate.”
“You clicked them at a different speed from your own song.”
“My fingers were performing a countermelody.”
“They were lost.”
The professor continued before Sirius could defend himself further.
“The songwriting was structured, the imagery was consistent, and the change in energy gave the repeated sections a different effect each time they returned.”
Regulus stood very still.
The guitar remained held against him, one hand resting lightly over the strings to prevent accidental noise.
“Your vocal control was also…” The professor paused, apparently searching for a sufficiently academic phrase. “Unexpectedly accomplished.”
Barty barked a laugh.
“Unexpectedly accomplished?”
The professor looked at him.
“Would you prefer shockingly better than everyone else?”
“Yes.”
“No,” Evan said at the same time.
“Yes,” Mary corrected.
Marlene nodded. “It would be more accurate.”
Alice gave Regulus another smile.
“You really were.”
Regulus looked faintly uncomfortable beneath the collective attention.
“It was only singing.”
The entire room objected at once.
“Only singing?” Sirius repeated.
“You heard us,” Fabian said.
“You heard Gideon,” Fabian corrected.
Gideon shoved him.
“You performed before me.”
“And improved the standard.”
“You bowed at the end of a twelve-second song.”
“It was sixteen seconds.”
“That isn’t better.”
Frank glanced towards Regulus.
“Did you know you were that good?”
Regulus’s lips parted, but no answer came immediately.
He looked down at the guitar once more.
“I knew I could perform the song.”
“That wasn’t what he asked,” Alice said gently.
Regulus’s gaze lifted.
The classroom had become strangely crowded around him. Nearly everyone had abandoned their original seats, drawn forwards by some combination of disbelief and the need to confirm that the performance had actually happened.
Sirius finally stood.
He crossed the small distance between them and stopped directly in front of Regulus.
Regulus looked up at him.
Sirius looked down at the guitar.
Then at Regulus’s hands.
Then back at his face.
“You have been carrying that voice around this entire time.”
Regulus’s expression remained carefully blank.
“I generally carry my voice with me.”
James laughed loudly.
Sirius glared over his shoulder. “Don’t encourage him.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You laughed.”
“He was funny.”
“He is being difficult.”
“I am answering you,” Regulus said.
“You are evading me with grammar.”
“That sounds unlikely.”
Sirius stared at him, then abruptly caught him by both shoulders.
Regulus jolted.
“You were brilliant.”
The room quietened again.
Regulus blinked once.
Sirius gave him a small shake.
“Absolutely infuriating, obviously. You could’ve warned me. I would’ve prepared a much better performance if I’d known I had to follow that.”
“You performed first.”
“Exactly. I could’ve withdrawn.”
“You volunteered to go first.”
“I was young and reckless.”
“It was less than an hour ago.”
“I have changed.”
Regulus’s mouth twitched.
It was not quite a smile.
Sirius saw it anyway.
“There. You know you were good.”
“I know the song went as intended.”
“That is the most Regulus way you could possibly admit it.”
Barty pushed between James and Peter.
“Move. I need to congratulate him more aggressively.”
“You’ve already shouted at him,” Evan said.
“That was the first stage.”
“What is the second stage?”
Barty opened his arms.
Regulus immediately pointed at him.
“No.”
Barty stopped.
“I wasn’t doing anything.”
“You were preparing to.”
“Maybe I was stretching.”
“You do not stretch.”
“I could start.”
“No.”
Pandora drifted around him and touched one fingertip to the wooden body of the guitar.
The last remains of resonance magic stirred beneath it, producing the faintest hum.
“It remembers,” she said.
Peter looked alarmed. “The guitar?”
“The magic.”
“Oh.”
Pandora withdrew her hand and smiled at Regulus.
“You made it remember the song.”
Regulus looked at the guitar as though he had not considered that.
“It will fade.”
“Everything does.”
Dorcas glanced at Pandora.
“That sounded much more dramatic than necessary.”
“I liked it.”
Dorcas accepted that with a shrug.
Evan approached last, stopping beside Regulus rather than crowding directly in front of him.
“You’re going to be unbearable now.”
Regulus looked at him. “Why?”
“Because we all know you can sing.”
“I have no intention of discussing it.”
“That will make it worse.”
“How?”
“Barty will discuss it enough for all of us.”
Barty nodded proudly. “I’m telling everyone.”
“No,” Regulus said.
“Yes.”
“No.”
“I’m going to walk into the Great Hall and announce that Regulus Black has been concealing the voice of a morally questionable angel.”
“That is an appalling description.”
“I thought it was good,” Mary said.
“Thank you,” Barty replied.
“You’re still not announcing it,” Regulus said.
Barty folded his arms. “What will you give me not to?”
“Nothing.”
“Then I cannot be bought.”
“You have not been offered anything.”
“I remain honourable.”
“You remain loud.”
Marlene stepped closer, looking at the guitar.
“Can you play anything else?”
“No.”
“Nothing?”
“I learnt that song.”
“You can’t play another?”
“I could play the same chords in a different order.”
“That counts.”
“It does not.”
James looked at the instruments along the wall.
“Could we all learn one?”
“No,” Lily said.
“I wasn’t asking you.”
“I’m answering for the safety of every instrument in the castle.”
“That drum was fine.”
Peter looked towards it.
The skin across its top had loosened noticeably.
“It doesn’t look fine.”
“It’s resting.”
“It’s damaged.”
“It gave everything to the performance.”
Lily turned back to Regulus.
“Are you certain you’d never sung before?”
“I have sung before.”
“You said you hadn’t sung in front of anyone.”
“That is different.”
“Where did you sing?”
“Alone.”
Sirius made another offended sound.
Regulus looked at him.
“What now?”
“You could’ve sung while I was around.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m your brother.”
“That does not answer the question.”
“It absolutely answers the question.”
“No, it explains your relationship to me.”
“Regulus.”
“Sirius.”
James stepped between them before Sirius could seize his shoulders again.
“I think the more important issue is that none of us can ever perform after him.”
Peter nodded. “The assignment is over.”
“There may be more assignments,” Frank said.
“No,” Peter replied firmly. “Music has concluded.”
Alice laughed.
Fabian pointed at Regulus.
“He goes last every time.”
Gideon shook his head. “No. He goes first.”
“Then everyone after him looks worse.”
“We already look worse.”
“We’d have time to recover.”
“There is no recovery.”
“Stop speaking as one mind,” Dorcas said.
Fabian and Gideon turned towards her together.
“We aren’t.”
Dorcas looked at Marlene. “They’re unsettling.”
“You get used to it.”
“No, you don’t,” Frank said.
The professors called for everyone to return to their seats so the lesson could conclude.
Nobody listened immediately.
Mary was still demanding to know how Regulus had managed to make his voice louder without becoming less smooth. Marlene wanted to inspect the guitar. Fabian and Gideon had begun arguing about whether either of them could learn to play before the next lesson. Alice was quietly telling Regulus that the softened ending had been her favourite part. Frank agreed but added that he had liked the faster middle as well.
Peter wanted to know whether the magic would have worked if Regulus had made a mistake.
Remus wanted to know how early in the writing process Regulus had decided to repeat the opening lines.
Lily wanted to see the written structure.
James wanted Regulus to sing it again.
Sirius wanted answers to every question simultaneously.
Barty wanted to announce Regulus’s ability to the entire school.
Evan wanted Barty prevented from doing that.
Pandora wanted to touch the guitar again before the lingering magic disappeared.
Dorcas wanted everyone to stop shouting over one another.
Regulus stood in the centre of them, holding the guitar against his chest and looking increasingly as though he regretted demonstrating any competence whatsoever.
“One at a time,” he said.
Nobody listened.
“Did you write the guitar part first?” Remus asked.
“Can you do the loud section again?” James demanded.
“How did I never hear you singing?” Sirius said.
“Can I tell people if I make the announcement tasteful?” Barty asked.
“No,” Evan answered for Regulus.
“What if I only tell people who ask?”
“Who would ask?”
“I’ll arrange for them to.”
“Regulus,” Lily said over them, “did you use the resonance charm on individual notes or the instrument as a whole?”
“The instrument,” Regulus replied.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were practising?” Sirius demanded.
“Because you would have done this.”
“Done what?”
“This.”
Sirius looked around at the crowd.
“That is not an answer.”
“It is an extremely clear answer.”
Alice lifted her voice. “I still think the quiet ending was best.”
“The middle,” Frank said. “When it became faster.”
“The second repetition,” Mary argued. “When he got louder.”
“The line about the strong, tall Christian,” Marlene said.
Mary seized her wrist again. “Exactly.”
Regulus looked at them.
“You are both behaving strangely.”
“We’re analysing,” Mary said.
“You are gossiping.”
“They overlap.”
Fabian clapped Gideon on the shoulder. “We could form a group.”
“No,” Gideon said.
“You haven’t heard the idea.”
“I heard your song.”
“That was unnecessary.”
“It was extremely necessary.”
Peter looked at Regulus.
“Would you teach me?”
The question cut through enough of the conversation that several people turned.
Regulus frowned. “The guitar?”
Peter nodded.
Regulus looked down at the strings.
“I have only learnt one song.”
“That’s one more than me.”
James stepped forwards. “Teach all of us.”
“No,” Regulus said instantly.
“Why not?”
“Because I have met all of you.”
“That is prejudiced.”
“That is informed.”
Remus picked up the abandoned sheet of Regulus’s lyrics from the edge of the professor’s desk. Regulus must have placed it there before beginning.
He scanned the page.
His eyebrows rose.
“There are no corrections.”
Lily moved beside him.
“What?”
“The other side,” Regulus said.
Remus turned it over.
The back was crowded with crossed-out phrases, arrows, rewritten sections and cramped notes about timing.
Lily’s face brightened with recognition.
“There it is.”
James peered over Remus’s shoulder. “There’s what?”
“The work.”
Regulus reached for the parchment. “Give me that.”
Remus held it just beyond his reach.
“You rewrote the second verse six times.”
“It was inaccurate.”
“And the ending?”
“It was too fast.”
“You tested different versions.”
“That is generally how writing functions.”
Lily took the parchment when Remus passed it to her.
“You marked the volume changes.”
“I needed to remember them.”
“You didn’t look at the page once.”
“I remembered.”
Barty leaned over Lily’s shoulder.
His eyes widened.
“That is more effort than I have put into every assignment this year combined.”
Dorcas looked at him. “That isn’t impressive.”
“I know. I’m praising him.”
Regulus reclaimed the parchment and folded it sharply.
“The lesson is finished.”
The professor, still standing at the front, cleared their throat.
“It is not.”
Regulus paused.
The rest of the class reluctantly returned to their seats, though most chairs were dragged closer than they had been before.
Regulus moved to return the guitar.
Sirius caught the strap before he could lift it from his shoulder.
“What are you doing?”
“Putting it back.”
“Keep it until the end.”
“Why?”
“So we know you won’t escape before performing it again.”
“I am not performing it again.”
James dropped into his chair. “He’ll perform it again.”
“No.”
“You will after enough encouragement.”
“I will not.”
Mary sat beside Marlene.
“We can be extremely encouraging.”
“That sounded threatening,” Alice said.
“It was affectionate.”
Frank returned to his seat and looked towards Regulus.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you need to perform it again.”
Regulus nodded once. “Thank you.”
Frank smiled.
“I think everyone will remember the first time.”
Regulus went still for half a second.
Alice’s expression softened with delight.
“That was lovely.”
Frank immediately looked embarrassed.
“I only meant—because it was good.”
“We know what you meant,” Alice said.
Sirius released the guitar strap at last.
Regulus placed the instrument carefully back upon its stand.
When he returned to his desk, Barty shifted his chair so close that their shoulders touched.
Regulus pushed it away.
Barty dragged it back.
“You were incredible,” Barty whispered.
“You have said that.”
“I’m saying it quietly now.”
“That does not improve it.”
Evan leaned across him.
“You were.”
Regulus looked towards Evan.
Evan offered him a small, genuine smile.
Regulus lowered his gaze.
Pandora touched the tips of her fingers together, imitating the rhythm she had seen him play.
Dorcas nudged the folded parchment upon his desk.
“Keep that.”
“I intended to.”
“Good.”
Across the room, Sirius continued staring.
Regulus eventually noticed.
“What?”
Sirius leaned back in his chair.
“Nothing.”
“You are looking at me.”
“I’m allowed.”
“You look suspicious.”
“I’m wondering what else you can do.”
“Nothing.”
“That’s a lie.”
“It is not.”
“You taught yourself guitar in secret.”
“For an assignment.”
“You wrote a proper song.”
“For an assignment.”
“You sang like that.”
Regulus’s expression flattened.
“For an assignment.”
Sirius pointed at him.
“Exactly. God knows what you’d do for something important.”
Regulus looked away before Sirius could see the second small twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Unfortunately, James saw it.
“He’s smiling.”
“I am not.”
“He is,” Peter said.
Mary twisted around in her seat. “He knows he destroyed us.”
“I did not destroy anyone.”
“Our dignity,” Marlene said.
“You surrendered that during your own performance.”
Fabian slapped a hand over his mouth.
Gideon turned away, shoulders shaking.
Marlene stared at Regulus.
Regulus met her gaze with perfect calm.
Then Marlene laughed.
The entire room seemed to collapse with her.
James bent over his desk. Peter wheezed into his sleeve. Alice covered her face while Frank attempted and failed to remain composed. Fabian and Gideon leaned against one another. Mary knocked her shoulder into Lily’s. Remus smiled down at his parchment. Even Dorcas gave up and laughed openly.
Barty threw one arm around Regulus despite his immediate protest.
“There he is!”
“Remove yourself.”
“The musician speaks!”
“Barty.”
“The voice of our generation!”
“Barty.”
“The wayward man!”
Regulus shoved him hard enough that Barty nearly toppled from his chair.
Evan caught the back of Barty’s robes and hauled him upright.
Pandora clapped softly.
Sirius watched Regulus’s face lose its composure for one brief moment as he fought against the laughter rising in his own throat.
“There,” Sirius said triumphantly. “He enjoyed it.”
Regulus pressed his lips together.
“No.”
“You did.”
“No.”
“You enjoyed the performance.”
“I completed the assignment.”
“You enjoyed shocking everyone.”
“That was incidental.”
“You enjoyed being better than James.”
Regulus glanced towards James.
James lifted both hands.
“Be honest. Everyone enjoys being better than me.”
Lily nodded. “It is satisfying.”
Regulus finally let out a quiet laugh.
It lasted barely a second.
But every person in the room heard it.
Sirius looked unbearably pleased.
Barty began another round of applause.
Evan joined him first, slower and more deliberate. Pandora followed. Dorcas struck her palms together twice before settling into a steady rhythm.
James rose and clapped above his head.
Peter joined him.
Remus applauded from his chair.
Lily gave Regulus an approving smile as she clapped. Mary and Marlene made enough noise for twice their number. Alice applauded brightly, Frank beside her. Fabian and Gideon whistled until the professors told them to stop, then continued more quietly.
Sirius waited until everyone else had begun.
Then he stood.
He looked at Regulus across the classroom, grinned and applauded louder than any of them.
Regulus sat trapped beneath the attention, his folded song upon the desk and the echo of the guitar still faintly suspended in everyone’s memory.
He shook his head.
“You are all ridiculous.”
Barty bumped their shoulders together.
“Sing it again.”
Regulus looked at him.
“No.”
The room erupted into demands anyway.