Archive of Our Own

There were many reasons not to follow Regulus Black through the corridors of Hogwarts.

The first was that Regulus had the unnerving ability to notice people without appearing to look at them.

The second was that Barty Crouch Junior was rarely seen moving with purpose unless someone was about to be humiliated, hospitalised, or both.

The third was that Pandora Rosier was carrying a wooden crate which hissed every few seconds.

The fourth was that Evan Rosier had stopped twice to check behind them.

The fifth was Dorcas Meadowes, who needed no further explanation.

Unfortunately, none of those reasons occurred to James Potter until they were already crouching behind a tapestry on the third floor.

“This is idiotic,” Lily whispered.

James, who had one hand holding back the heavy velvet and the other braced against the wall beside Sirius’s head, looked offended.

“It’s reconnaissance.”

“It’s stalking.”

“Reconnaissance is stalking with a moral purpose.”

“You don’t have a moral purpose.”

“We might.”

“You don’t even know what they’re doing.”

“That,” James said triumphantly, “is why we’re reconnoitring.”

Eleven Gryffindors were attempting to conceal themselves behind a tapestry designed to hide, at most, a narrow passage and perhaps one discreetly snogging couple.

It was not designed to hide James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Lily Evans, Mary Macdonald, Marlene McKinnon, Alice Fortescue, Frank Longbottom, Fabian Prewett, and Gideon Prewett.

The tapestry bulged in several directions.

A stitched medieval knight appeared to have grown three additional shoulders. A painted dragon’s stomach protruded obscenely around Frank’s elbow. One corner trembled whenever Fabian tried to breathe.

“Move your knee,” Mary hissed.

“That isn’t my knee,” Gideon whispered.

Mary froze.

Fabian snorted into his hand.

“Whose is it?”

“No idea.”

“Stop speaking,” Lily ordered. “All of you.”

Outside their inadequate hiding place, footsteps approached.

Regulus Black appeared first.

He walked briskly, his expression blank, his arms folded around three thick ledgers bound in black leather. His short dark hair was neat, his school robes immaculate, and there was absolutely nothing about him that suggested criminal enterprise except, perhaps, the four people accompanying him.

Barty was carrying two canvas bags that clinked heavily with every step. He had a quill tucked behind one ear and a folded sheet of parchment between his teeth.

Evan held a large square box marked FRAGILE, KEEP UPRIGHT, and occasionally glanced down at it as though expecting it to explode.

Pandora had the hissing crate.

Dorcas was carrying what appeared to be a rolled carpet over one shoulder.

Sirius pressed his face closer to a gap in the tapestry.

“What are they doing?” Peter breathed.

“I don’t know,” Sirius whispered dramatically, “but look at him.”

They all looked at Regulus.

He was walking.

“That’s your brother walking,” Remus said.

“Exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“Look at the way he’s walking.”

“Using his legs?”

“He’s being furtive.”

Regulus strode past an open classroom without even glancing inside.

“He looks busy,” Alice murmured.

“He looks corrupted,” Sirius insisted.

“By walking?” Frank asked.

“By them.” Sirius jabbed a finger through the gap, pointing directly at Barty. “Especially him.”

Barty removed the parchment from his mouth and said something too quietly for the hidden Gryffindors to hear.

Regulus stopped.

Barty leaned down.

Regulus murmured in his ear.

Barty’s eyes lit up with immediate, violent delight.

“Oh, that’s bad,” Sirius whispered.

“What?” James asked.

“That look.”

“That’s just Crouch’s face.”

“No. That was a specific look. That was a crime look.”

Barty laughed silently and slapped Regulus on the back.

Regulus staggered one step, elbowed Barty hard in the ribs without looking at him, and continued walking.

Barty clutched his side, grinning.

“There,” Sirius said. “You see? Violence. My poor sweet little baby brother is being dragged into a life of delinquency.”

Marlene stared at him.

“Your poor sweet little baby brother just hit Crouch hard enough to bruise a kidney.”

“He’s defending himself from bad influences.”

“He didn’t even look.”

“Instinct. He’s frightened.”

Regulus said something over his shoulder.

Barty obediently handed him one of the canvas bags.

Sirius gasped.

“What now?” Lily demanded.

“He’s carrying something for them.”

“He asked for the bag.”

“They’ve conditioned him.”

“Sirius,” Remus said, “you once tried to persuade Regulus that Father Christmas was a government informant.”

“He was seven. It was funny.”

“You made him cry.”

“He was emotionally invested in Christmas security.”

Outside, Evan reached the end of the corridor and paused.

The Gryffindors went silent.

Evan slowly turned his head.

His gaze swept over the suits of armour, the arched windows, the abandoned benches, and finally the tapestry.

Eleven people stopped breathing.

James’s glasses began sliding down his nose.

Lily caught them before they fell.

A bead of sweat ran down Peter’s temple.

Behind him, Fabian silently mouthed that Gideon’s elbow was in his spine.

Gideon silently mouthed something back which was almost certainly obscene.

Evan stared for another moment.

Then Pandora’s crate hissed loudly.

Evan turned away.

The five disappeared around the corner.

Everyone behind the tapestry exhaled at once.

The sudden movement tore one of the hooks from the wall.

The tapestry sagged.

Frank caught it.

“Go,” James whispered.

They spilled into the corridor in a tangled mass of robes and limbs.

Sirius was already moving.

“Quietly,” Lily hissed.

Sirius began tiptoeing with the exaggerated delicacy of a pantomime thief.

“That is less quiet than walking normally,” Remus told him.

“My brother’s in danger.”

“Your brother is carrying a bag.”

“A suspicious bag.”

“So are you.”

Sirius glanced down at his battered satchel.

“This is an academic bag.”

“You’ve got fireworks in it,” Peter said.

“Academic fireworks.”

They rounded the corner just in time to see Regulus and his friends descend a staircase.

Pandora was talking now, her voice floating back towards them.

“—the blue bottles are probably safe.”

“Probably?” Evan repeated.

“I tested three.”

“On what?”

Pandora considered the question.

“A rat.”

Dorcas shifted the rolled carpet on her shoulder. “Did it live?”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

Pandora smiled faintly.

“That depends on your definition of living.”

Sirius seized James’s sleeve.

“She’s experimenting on animals in front of him.”

“They’re discussing potions,” Lily said.

“Dark potions.”

“You don’t know that.”

“The crate is hissing.”

“So does McGonagall when you hand in homework.”

“That is completely different.”

Ahead, Regulus stopped at the landing.

The Gryffindors flattened themselves against the nearest wall.

There was nothing to hide behind.

They stood in a perfectly straight line beneath a row of portraits, pretending to admire a landscape painting of a stormy coastline.

Regulus glanced back.

Eleven Gryffindors stared intently at the painted sea.

The fisherman inside the portrait looked bewildered.

Regulus’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Sirius leaned towards the painting.

“Beautiful weather,” he told the fisherman.

Lightning split the painted sky.

The fisherman raised one rude finger.

Regulus continued down the stairs.

The Gryffindors waited.

“Did he see us?” Alice whispered.

“No,” James said.

“Yes,” Lily said simultaneously.

“He looked directly at us,” Frank said.

“He always looks like that,” Sirius argued. “He was probably dissociating.”

“He made eye contact with you,” Mary said.

“Regulus doesn’t make eye contact unless he’s threatening someone.”

“That is not reassuring.”

They followed more cautiously.

The castle was settling towards evening. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows in molten gold bars, catching on drifting dust and turning the stone floors amber. Most students had gone to dinner. Distant laughter echoed from lower staircases, mingling with the moving portraits and the occasional slam of a door.

Regulus and his friends did not head towards the Great Hall.

They crossed the fourth-floor landing, slipped through an unused gallery, and turned into a narrow corridor leading towards a cluster of classrooms abandoned after a ceiling collapse twenty years earlier.

The ceiling had been repaired.

The classrooms had never been reclaimed.

“This is where they’ll do it,” Sirius whispered.

“Do what?” Peter asked.

Sirius stared at the disappearing group with grim conviction.

“The initiation.”

Marlene rubbed both hands over her face.

“There is no initiation.”

“You don’t know that.”

“What exactly are you imagining?”

“Robes. Candles. A skull. Possibly a blood oath.”

“Your family has Christmas dinners like that.”

“That’s different. There are crackers.”

James peered around the corner.

Regulus had stopped outside a wooden door whose brass plaque had long ago lost its lettering.

He knocked three times.

Paused.

Knocked twice.

Barty knocked once.

Dorcas kicked the bottom of the door.

A panel slid open.

A pair of painted eyes appeared.

Regulus stared at them.

The panel closed.

Locks began clicking.

Mary’s eyebrows rose.

“All right,” she whispered. “That is genuinely suspicious.”

“Thank you,” Sirius breathed.

The door opened.

The five slipped inside.

It shut behind them.

A moment later, the locks clicked back into place.

James turned to the others, eyes shining.

“We have to get in.”

“No,” Lily said.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Lily, they just used a secret knock.”

“So?”

“So secret knocks are evidence.”

“Of what?”

“Secrets.”

“Brilliant deduction.”

Sirius strode towards the door.

Remus caught the back of his robes.

“Where are you going?”

“To rescue Regulus.”

“From a meeting?”

“From corruption.”

“By walking through a locked door?”

Sirius reached for the handle.

It rattled but did not turn.

He frowned.

Then he knocked three times, paused, knocked twice, knocked once, and kicked the bottom.

The panel slid open.

A pair of painted eyes appeared.

Sirius smiled.

“Hello.”

The panel slammed shut.

A loud metallic thunk followed.

“Was that another lock?” Frank asked.

“It was another lock,” Sirius said darkly.

“Excellent rescue,” Remus murmured.

James examined the frame. “Alohomora.”

Nothing happened.

He tried again.

The lock made a rude buzzing noise.

“Modified ward,” Lily said, leaning closer. “A complicated one.”

Sirius looked appalled.

“Regulus knows how to modify wards?”

“Regulus is top of his year in Charms.”

“He told me he hated Charms.”

“He hates you asking him for help.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

Mary pressed her ear to the door.

“I can hear voices.”

Everyone crowded closer.

“Move,” Marlene whispered. “I can’t hear.”

“Your hair’s in my mouth,” Fabian muttered.

“That’s Gideon’s hair.”

“I don’t have long hair,” Gideon said.

“Then whose—”

“Quiet.”

From behind the door came a scrape of furniture.

Then Regulus’s voice, calm and clear.

“Right. Sit down. We have thirty-seven minutes before the second dinner bell, and I would prefer to finish before the first years begin wandering.”

Sirius’s eyes widened.

“He’s in charge.”

James’s mouth fell open slightly.

Inside, Barty said, “You always say that, and we’re never finished before the first years begin wandering.”

“That is because you interrupt.”

“I contribute.”

“You derail.”

“I enliven.”

“You once spent fourteen minutes proposing that we release a goose into the staffroom to manipulate the betting market.”

“It would have worked.”

“It would have bitten Flitwick,” Evan said.

“An unfortunate cost of innovation.”

“Sit down,” Regulus ordered.

Chairs scraped.

Every Gryffindor outside the door exchanged a look.

Dorcas said, “Did anyone bring the food?”

“I have the pizza,” Evan replied.

“I have the burgers,” Barty said.

Pandora’s voice drifted closer. “I have chips.”

“You were meant to bring the potions ledger,” Regulus told her.

“I brought both.”

“Where is the ledger?”

“In the crate.”

“The crate is wet.”

“It’s only slightly wet.”

“What is it wet with?”

A pause.

“Potential.”

Lily pressed her lips together.

Mary’s shoulders shook silently.

Sirius stared at the door as though it had personally betrayed him.

“They’re eating without me,” he whispered.

“That’s what you’re concerned about?” Alice asked.

“I haven’t had food in hours.”

“You said your brother was joining a death cult.”

“He may be joining a death cult with chips.”

James pointed at the wall beside the door.

A narrow ventilation grate had been set low into the stone, half concealed behind a broken cabinet.

He grinned.

Lily immediately shook her head.

“No.”

“We could hear better.”

“No.”

“We need evidence.”

“No.”

Sirius was already dragging the cabinet aside.

The grate was larger than it first appeared, opening into an old service passage once used by house-elves. It was dusty, cramped, and black beyond the first few feet.

Peter crouched beside it.

“I can fit.”

“So can Regulus,” Sirius said mournfully. “He’s so little. They’ve probably been using his size for criminal access.”

Remus looked through the grate. “This passage runs behind the classroom wall.”

James dropped to his knees. “Perfect.”

“Absolutely not,” Lily said.

Five minutes later, all eleven Gryffindors were crawling through the passage.

Lily went last solely because, in her words, somebody responsible had to ensure they did not leave Fabian wedged permanently beneath the castle.

The passage was narrow enough that James had to turn sideways at one point. Dust coated their knees and elbows. Spiders retreated into cracks in the stones. Sirius whispered increasingly dramatic predictions from somewhere near the front.

“They’ll have a symbol.”

“Keep moving,” Marlene said behind him.

“Something serpentine.”

“Move.”

“Maybe Regulus has been forced to get it tattooed.”

“Sirius.”

“My sweet baby brother, marked by evil—”

Marlene shoved his ankle.

Sirius lurched forward and struck his head on a beam.

His muffled curse echoed through the passage.

From the classroom on the other side of the wall, the voices stopped.

All eleven froze.

“What was that?” Evan asked.

“A rat,” Dorcas said.

“That was a large rat,” Barty replied.

“Castle’s old.”

There was a soft rustle.

Then Regulus said, “Continue.”

The Gryffindors crawled on.

The passage eventually widened into a shallow recess hidden behind a movable chalkboard at the back of the classroom. Through a slender gap between the board and the wall, they could see almost the entire room.

They arranged themselves in miserable silence.

James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter crouched nearest the gap.

Lily and Mary knelt behind them.

Marlene lay flat on her stomach and peered beneath the board.

Alice and Frank leaned against the side wall.

Fabian sat on Gideon’s foot.

Gideon bit his own sleeve to avoid shouting.

The classroom beyond had been transformed.

There were no skulls.

There were no candles.

There was no blood oath.

There were, however, six tables, three filing cabinets, two enchanted duplicating presses, several shelves of suspicious bottles, stacks of parchment, a crate of Muggle magazines, boxes of sweets, rolled posters, sealed envelopes, ledgers, labels, quills, blank cards, and an enormous map of Hogwarts covered in coloured pins and threads.

A second map displayed the grounds and Hogsmeade.

A third appeared to show the London Underground.

Charts filled the blackboard at the front of the room.

The largest had been divided into sections.

SUPPLY.

DISTRIBUTION.

FORGERY.

PUBLICATIONS.

WAGERS.

COMBAT.

Underneath each heading were names, dates, quantities, and sums of money.

Regulus stood in front of it.

He had removed his robes and draped them over the back of a chair. His sleeves were rolled neatly to his elbows. A piece of white chalk rested between his fingers.

On the desk beside him sat a half-eaten McDonald’s meal, a Domino’s pizza box, two open ledgers, and what appeared to be a small mountain of gold.

Barty lounged in the front row with his feet on another chair, taking notes in messy shorthand while eating chips.

Evan sat beside him, straight-backed and attentive, a slice of pizza in one hand and a ruler in the other.

Pandora had placed her hissing crate beneath the table and was drawing diagrams in purple ink.

Dorcas had unrolled the carpet.

It was not a carpet.

It was a large banner reading:

MIDNIGHT MATCHES
NO WANDS. NO WHINING. NO REFUNDS.

Sirius’s jaw dropped.

Remus slowly turned to look at James.

James looked back.

Peter’s eyes were enormous.

At the front, Regulus tapped the board.

“Supply first.”

Barty raised his hand.

Regulus ignored him.

Barty raised it higher.

Regulus continued ignoring him.

Barty waved.

Regulus pointed the chalk at him without turning.

“If you ask whether we can begin selling explosives to second years again, the answer is no.”

“I wasn’t going to ask that.”

“You were.”

“I was going to ask whether we can sell components separately.”

“No.”

“That’s discrimination against young entrepreneurs.”

“That is preventing twelve-year-olds from taking apart the Astronomy Tower.”

“One twelve-year-old.”

“Three.”

“Only one succeeded.”

Regulus turned back to the board.

Outside the room, Marlene mouthed, What the fuck?

Lily shook her head, equally lost.

Regulus drew a line beneath SUPPLY.

“Potion stock is down eighteen percent. We have four orders for Wit-Sharpening Potion, seven for Pepperup, nine for hangover cures, twelve for Dreamless Sleep, and twenty-three for contraceptive brews.”

Frank’s face turned bright red.

Alice silently covered his mouth before he could make a sound.

Regulus continued without the slightest change in expression.

“Pandora?”

Pandora looked up.

“The Wit-Sharpening is finished. The Pepperup will be ready Thursday unless the cauldron continues to resent me. The hangover cures are bottled. Dreamless Sleep requires moonstone, which Severus says he can source by Friday.”

Sirius’s eyes widened further.

“Snivellus is involved?” he mouthed.

James’s face twisted in outrage.

Regulus tapped the chalk against the board.

“And the other stock?”

Pandora took a thoughtful bite of pizza crust.

“The firewhisky is stable.”

“Stable in what sense?” Evan asked.

“It has stopped burning through glass.”

Dorcas nodded. “Improvement.”

“The calming draughts are safe,” Pandora went on. “The focus tonics are probably safe. The euphoria vials are not safe but are very popular.”

“Reduce the concentration,” Regulus said.

“They’ll complain.”

“They complain when their eyebrows melt as well.”

“Only briefly.”

“Reduce it.”

Pandora wrote it down.

“The love potions?” Barty asked.

Regulus’s expression hardened.

“We do not sell love potions.”

“We could make a fortune.”

“We do not sell love potions.”

“People will buy them elsewhere.”

“Then they can poison each other without involving us.”

“It’s a weak market position.”

“It’s an ethical position.”

Barty sighed and crossed something out.

Lily’s eyebrows rose.

Mary glanced at her.

There was an uncomfortable flicker of surprise between them.

Regulus moved to the next line.

“Alcohol.”

Barty brightened.

“Sales are excellent.”

“They are always excellent.”

“The Ravenclaw sixth years ordered another two cases of cider. Hufflepuff wants the peach schnapps. Slytherin wants firewhisky. Gryffindor wants anything that can remove memory and dignity in equal measure.”

Ten heads slowly turned towards Sirius.

Sirius looked offended.

“I don’t drink,” he mouthed.

Marlene pointed at James.

James pointed at Fabian and Gideon.

Fabian pointed at Mary.

Mary silently threatened all three of them.

Regulus consulted the ledger.

“The Three Broomsticks is raising prices.”

“Rosmerta’s suspicious,” Evan said. “Too many repeat orders.”

“Use Aberforth for the next shipment.”

“His bottles taste like goats.”

“His bottles do not taste like goats,” Dorcas said.

“Everything in that pub tastes like goats.”

“Have you eaten a goat?” Pandora asked.

Evan stared at her.

“That is irrelevant.”

“It seems central.”

Regulus tapped the desk twice.

Everyone fell silent.

The Gryffindors did as well.

“We’ll alternate suppliers,” Regulus said. “Smaller orders, more frequent collection. No one uses the same exit route twice in one week. Dorcas, revise the Hogsmeade rota.”

Dorcas nodded and wrote a note.

“Done.”

“Food deliveries.”

Evan opened a second ledger.

“McDonald’s remains our highest seller.”

Sirius gripped James’s shoulder hard enough to hurt.

“Domino’s second,” Evan continued. “Chinese third. Fried chicken fourth. There’s increased demand for kebabs after midnight.”

“Obviously,” Barty said.

“The house-elves are becoming suspicious.”

“The house-elves know,” Regulus replied.

Evan paused.

“They know?”

“They have always known.”

“Why haven’t they reported us?”

Regulus picked up a chip.

“Because I give them twenty percent of all food ordered for staff routes, and they like me, and because Pandora repaired their wireless.”

Pandora smiled.

“It sings to them while they work.”

“What does it sing?” Dorcas asked.

“Mostly Dolly Parton.”

Regulus ate the chip.

“They like Dolly Parton.”

From the hidden passage came a tiny, strangled sound.

It came from Peter.

Remus clapped a hand over his mouth.

Regulus looked towards the back of the classroom.

Everyone inside went still.

The five stared at the chalkboard concealing the Gryffindors.

Sirius’s face was inches from the gap.

Regulus’s gaze lingered.

Then Pandora’s crate hissed again.

Barty kicked it lightly.

“Shut up.”

The crate hissed more aggressively.

“That is how you get bitten,” Dorcas told him.

“I’m not afraid of a box.”

“You should be.”

Regulus turned back to the board.

“Next.”

Peter sagged with relief.

Evan flipped a page.

“Electronics.”

James blinked.

Regulus drew a box around a list of figures.

“Current inventory?”

“Eight Walkmans,” Evan said. “Eleven cassette players. Three portable televisions. Four Game Boys. Two video cameras. Six electric hair trimmers. Fifteen calculators. Twenty-three watches. Thirty-one sets of headphones. One microwave.”

Dorcas looked up.

“Who ordered a microwave?”

“Someone in Ravenclaw.”

“What are they going to do with a microwave?”

“Microwave things.”

“At Hogwarts?”

“They paid in advance.”

Regulus nodded. “We deliver.”

Sirius looked at James.

James looked at Lily.

Lily appeared to be reconsidering the basic structure of reality.

Evan continued.

“The modified charms are holding on smaller devices, but the television in Hufflepuff keeps losing signal during thunderstorms.”

“The castle wards interfere,” Regulus said. “I’ll adjust the conversion charm.”

“The Game Boy in Gryffindor stopped working.”

James jerked.

“So that’s where Lee got it,” he whispered.

Lily elbowed him sharply.

Inside, Regulus said, “Which one?”

“Red casing.”

“That is not ours. Ours has black casing with a silver mark beneath the battery compartment.”

Peter’s mouth opened.

He slowly reached into his robe pocket and pulled out a red Game Boy.

James stared at it.

Peter stared back.

He mouthed, I bought it from a fourth year.

Sirius pointed frantically at Regulus.

Regulus tapped the board.

“Warn customers about imitations. We offer repairs only on verified stock. Pandora, how many stabilising charms can you complete this week?”

“Nine,” Pandora said.

“Make it twelve.”

“I can make it fourteen if the moon is cooperative.”

“The moon is not involved.”

“The moon is always involved.”

Remus’s expression became faintly offended on the moon’s behalf.

Regulus merely wrote fourteen beside her name.

“Fine. Prank supplies.”

The atmosphere changed.

Barty sat up straighter.

Dorcas put down her pen.

Pandora smiled.

Even Evan looked interested.

Regulus opened a third ledger.

“Demand has doubled.”

James leaned closer to the gap.

Regulus read from the page.

“Dungbombs, sixty-three. Fanged Frisbees, seventeen. Ever-Bashing Boomerangs, twelve. Canary Creams, forty boxes. Portable Swamps, five. Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, eight bags. Itching powder, eighty-seven packets. Belch powder, thirty-one. Fake wands, nineteen. Exploding ink, fifty bottles.”

Fabian’s mouth fell open.

Gideon grabbed his own hair.

Marlene slowly turned towards James.

James looked as though someone had informed him his parents were secretly goblins.

Barty spoke around a mouthful of chips.

“Gryffindor ordered most of the itching powder.”

“Of course they did,” Evan said.

“Three repeat customers,” Regulus added. “Initials J.P., S.B., and F.P.”

Silence filled the hidden passage.

Everyone looked at James, Sirius, and Fabian.

James shook his head violently.

Sirius pointed at himself in disbelief.

Fabian’s lips formed the words, No fucking way.

Inside, Dorcas leaned back in her chair.

“Those three are funding half the operation.”

Barty grinned. “Useful idiots.”

Sirius’s nostrils flared.

Remus seized the back of his collar before he could burst through the chalkboard.

Regulus continued calmly.

“Potter buys through a Ravenclaw intermediary. Black uses two Hufflepuff third years. Prewett believes he’s dealing directly with Zonko’s.”

Fabian looked wounded.

Gideon was silently shaking with laughter.

Fabian punched him in the thigh.

“The fake Zonko’s packaging was my idea,” Evan said.

“Excellent work,” Regulus replied.

Evan inclined his head.

Barty lifted his drink in salute.

“Wait,” Dorcas said. “Which Prewett?”

“Fabian.”

Gideon pressed both fists to his mouth.

Fabian reached across Marlene and tried to strangle him.

The resulting scuffle made the chalkboard tremble.

Everyone froze.

Inside, Regulus stopped mid-sentence.

The board moved half an inch.

His grey eyes narrowed.

Dorcas rose from her chair.

Behind the board, eleven Gryffindors became statues.

Dorcas took two steps towards them.

Sirius’s hand drifted towards his wand.

Lily caught his wrist.

Dorcas stopped.

The board remained still.

A second passed.

Then another.

A bottle on one of the shelves burst with a loud pop.

Purple smoke filled the corner.

Pandora clapped delightedly.

“Oh, good. It hatched.”

Dorcas turned around.

“What hatched?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Should we evacuate?”

“Not unless it develops legs.”

Dorcas sat again.

Behind the board, Fabian silently removed his hands from Gideon’s throat.

Regulus waited for the smoke to thin.

“Continuing.”

James looked personally devastated.

“We’ve been buying from him,” he mouthed.

Remus’s eyes were bright with vicious amusement.

“For years, apparently.”

“Sirius called him boring last week,” Peter whispered.

Sirius looked hollow.

Regulus turned to a new section of the board.

“Muggle goods.”

The humour faded slightly.

Evan closed one ledger and opened another, this one smaller and bound with green cord.

“Orders increased after Easter.”

Regulus nodded.

“Expected.”

“Mostly books,” Evan said. “Novels, school texts, comics, newspapers. Also records, films, cosmetics, clothing, batteries, pens, cameras, sweets, shampoo, tampons, trainers, board games, and three requests for electric toothbrushes.”

“Electric toothbrushes?” Barty repeated.

“Apparently they’re forbidden in several households.”

“Why?”

“Because Muggles use them.”

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Dorcas raised an eyebrow.

“You spent six galleons betting that Slughorn would fall into a punch bowl.”

“He nearly did.”

“He sat beside it.”

“Margins.”

Regulus took the green ledger from Evan.

His expression had changed. Not dramatically. Regulus rarely changed expression dramatically. But the careless sharpness had vanished from his face.

“These orders remain private,” he said. “No names in the main ledger. No identifying marks on packaging. Collection points rotate every time.”

Barty nodded.

Pandora stopped doodling.

Dorcas’s posture straightened.

Evan said, “We know.”

“I’m repeating it.”

“No one has leaked anything.”

“No one will.”

The quiet authority in Regulus’s voice seemed to settle over the room.

Outside, Lily leaned closer.

Regulus flipped through the green ledger.

“Two seventh-year girls need Muggle novels before the holiday. Their parents search their trunks. We’ll bind the books in old family genealogies.”

Evan wrote it down.

“Three boys from Slytherin want football magazines.”

“I can get those,” Dorcas said.

“Use the side entrance near the Owlery.”

“Done.”

“A fifth year needs a radio small enough to hide inside a jewellery case.”

Pandora nodded. “I’ll modify one.”

“A sixth year wants a photograph of David Bowie.”

Barty looked up. “Only one?”

“Six photographs of David Bowie.”

“Reasonable.”

“A fourth year wants denim.”

“What kind?” Evan asked.

Regulus checked.

“Any.”

Evan’s mouth tightened briefly.

“Right.”

Regulus closed the ledger.

“Prices remain cost only.”

Barty groaned.

“Regulus.”

“No profit on restricted Muggle goods.”

“We are running a business.”

“We are charging frightened children for access to toothpaste.”

“Electric toothpaste.”

“Toothbrushes.”

“Whatever.”

“No profit.”

Barty dropped his head back with a theatrical sigh.

“You wound me.”

“You will survive.”

“Barely.”

“You made fourteen galleons yesterday betting on whether Avery would cry during detention.”

“He did.”

“He always cries.”

“That’s why the odds were terrible.”

Lily stared at Regulus through the gap.

Mary glanced at her.

Neither spoke.

Sirius’s expression had gone strange.

The performance had fallen out of it.

For the first time since they began following the five, he did not look dramatic or amused or outraged.

He looked at the green ledger in Regulus’s hand and said nothing at all.

Regulus set it carefully apart from the others.

“Forgery.”

Evan immediately reached for the ruler.

Regulus wiped part of the board clean and began writing.

“Backlog?”

“Twenty-seven items,” Evan replied. “Five permission slips. Three Restricted Section passes. Seven late notes. Four sick notes. Two Hogsmeade forms. One parental signature. Three hall passes. One Ministry visitor badge. One identity card.”

Frank blinked rapidly.

“A Ministry badge?” he mouthed.

Alice looked almost impressed.

Regulus frowned.

“Who requested the parental signature?”

“Mulciber.”

“Rejected.”

“Already rejected.”

“The Ministry badge?”

“A seventh year in Ravenclaw.”

“Purpose?”

“He wants to frighten a prefect.”

“Rejected.”

“Already rejected.”

“The identity card?”

Evan’s mouth twitched.

“Your order.”

Sirius inhaled sharply.

Regulus gave Evan a flat look.

“It is not for me.”

“It has your photograph.”

“It is not my name.”

“That usually makes it a fake identity card.”

“It is part of an ongoing administrative issue.”

“What administrative issue?” Dorcas asked.

Regulus stared at her.

Dorcas stared back.

Barty began to grin.

Pandora whispered, “Is it the French one?”

Regulus’s eyes narrowed.

“Do not call it the French one.”

“It has a French name.”

“It has a name that happens to be French.”

“What is the name?” Barty asked, though his expression suggested he already knew.

Regulus ignored him.

Evan reached into the FRAGILE box and removed a small laminated card.

“Étienne Beaumont.”

Barty burst out laughing.

Dorcas slapped a hand over her mouth.

Pandora smiled serenely.

Regulus’s ears turned pink.

From behind the chalkboard, Mary buried her face in Lily’s shoulder to keep silent.

Even Sirius looked momentarily distracted from his crisis.

“Étienne Beaumont?” James mouthed.

Remus’s shoulders shook.

Regulus snatched the card from Evan.

“It permits access to a Muggle auction house.”

“As a twenty-four-year-old French art dealer,” Evan said.

“They would not admit a sixteen-year-old Scottish student.”

“You’re not Scottish,” Barty said.

“That is the part you object to?”

“No. I think Étienne has depth.”

“Étienne is fictional.”

“He has ambitions.”

“He has a moustache in the photograph,” Pandora observed.

Regulus stuffed the card into his pocket.

“The moustache was necessary.”

Barty was bent over the desk, laughing soundlessly.

Regulus threw a chip at his head.

Barty caught it in his mouth.

“Forgery backlog,” Regulus said coldly.

Evan regained his composure.

“We can complete everything by Monday if we postpone the report cards.”

“Which report cards?”

“Three students need altered marks before their parents receive copies.”

“No.”

“One is offering twenty galleons.”

“No academic records.”

“Thirty.”

“No.”

“Forty.”

Regulus considered it.

Sirius’s mouth fell open.

Lily gave him a pointed look.

Regulus shook his head.

“No. Too traceable.”

Barty clicked his tongue.

“You had him for a moment.”

“Permission slips and passes only,” Regulus said. “Nothing that changes permanent school records. Nothing involving examinations. Nothing that sends a student off the grounds alone.”

“Nothing that gets someone killed, expelled, or married,” Evan recited.

“Correct.”

“Married?” Frank whispered.

Alice elbowed him.

Evan pulled a neat stack of parchment from the box.

“These are finished. McGonagall late notes, Pomfrey sick notes, Flitwick corridor passes, Hooch pitch permissions.”

Regulus examined the top sheet.

“The angle is wrong.”

Evan frowned.

“It isn’t.”

“The M in Minerva.”

“It’s exact.”

“She tilts the first stroke further left when irritated.”

“How irritated is she supposed to be?”

“Moderately.”

“This is moderate.”

“This is disappointed.”

Evan snatched the page back and studied it.

“You’re right.”

Regulus nodded.

James stared.

“Your brother is correcting Rosier’s McGonagall forgery based on emotional calligraphy,” Remus whispered.

Sirius looked as though he might faint.

Regulus moved down the line, inspecting each document.

“Pomfrey’s is too tidy.”

“She’s a healer.”

“She writes notes while standing.”

Evan deliberately creased the bottom corner.

“Better?”

“Yes.”

“Hooch?”

“Excellent.”

“Flitwick?”

“The ink is too dark.”

“I hate you.”

“You do not.”

“I hate your eyes.”

“My eyes are the reason our customers are not caught.”

“Your eyes are unnatural.”

Sirius silently pointed at his own identical grey eyes.

Marlene patted his shoulder without sympathy.

Regulus placed the completed papers into separate envelopes.

“Raise the price of parental signatures.”

“Risk?” Evan asked.

“Annoyance.”

“To whom?”

“Me.”

“Reasonable.”

Regulus turned to the next heading.

“Publications.”

Pandora immediately closed her potion notebook and drew a much thicker folder from beneath the table.

The cover was embossed with a silver keyhole.

Sirius frowned.

James leaned so close to the gap that his glasses touched the board.

Pandora placed several stacks of parchment on the desk.

Even from the back of the classroom, the title was visible.

THE KEYHOLE.

Every upper-year student at Hogwarts knew The Keyhole.

It appeared twice a month in common rooms, bathrooms, classroom desks, library books, Quidditch changing rooms, and occasionally beneath dinner plates.

No one knew who wrote it.

No one knew who printed it.

No one knew how it obtained information that should have been impossible to obtain.

The Keyhole reported breakups before the couples involved realised they had separated.

It predicted detentions.

It knew which professors were feuding, which prefects were cheating, which Quidditch players were injured, which students were secretly related, which classroom windows had the best view of illicit snogging locations, and precisely how many times Filch had been overheard speaking fondly to his mop.

It contained interviews, anonymous letters, investigative pieces, horoscopes, fashion criticism, betting odds, satirical illustrations, reviews of school meals, and one ferociously popular page entitled THINGS OVERHEARD NEAR SUITS OF ARMOUR.

The Marauders bought every issue.

They had attempted to uncover its writers for two years.

Sirius’s face went white.

“No,” he mouthed.

Pandora flipped open the folder.

“The next issue is nearly finished.”

Regulus leaned back against the desk.

“Front page?”

“Professor Kettleburn’s illegal salamander breeding operation.”

“That was confirmed?”

“I found the nest.”

“Photographs?”

Pandora produced six moving photographs.

In one, Professor Kettleburn was attempting to hide a flaming salamander beneath his coat.

Regulus nodded approvingly.

“Excellent.”

James’s expression was reverent.

Lily looked horrified by how impressed she was.

“Second page?” Regulus asked.

“The Ravenclaw prefect affair.”

“Confirmed?”

“Both parties separately denied it while leaving the same broom cupboard.”

“Photographs?”

“Blurry.”

“Use silhouettes.”

Pandora made a note.

“Third page is the staff feud.”

“Which one?”

“Sinistra and Vector.”

“I thought that was resolved.”

“It was. Then Vector moved Sinistra’s telescope three inches to the left.”

Regulus inhaled through his nose.

“Savage.”

“Sinistra cried.”

“Front-page sidebar.”

“Done.”

Pandora spread out the draft pages.

“The advice column has nineteen letters.”

“Remove the one about the cursed wart.”

“Why?”

“It is Barty.”

Barty sat upright.

“You cannot prove that.”

“You signed it ‘A Handsome but Misunderstood Capricorn.’”

“That could be anyone.”

“You are not a Capricorn,” Evan said.

“I contain multitudes.”

Regulus took a red quill and began editing.

“Horoscopes?”

“Fabricated.”

“Good.”

“Fashion?”

“Sixth-year Hufflepuff capes are in. Ravenclaw shoes are out. Gryffindor ties described as ‘a visual cry for help.’”

Mary looked down at her tie.

Marlene tucked hers beneath her jumper.

“Quidditch section?” Regulus asked.

“Dorcas has match analysis. Barty has odds, mostly high on slytherin to win per usual thanks to our lovely seeker here. Evan has injuries.”

“Shut up. Gossip?”

Pandora smiled.

“Extensive.”

The single word carried the weight of impending catastrophe.

Regulus accepted another stack of parchment.

“What have we got?”

Pandora began reading.

“Two seventh years engaged in a secret relationship despite their families arranging them to other people.”

“Names removed.”

“Already removed.”

“A fifth year claiming to be part-Veela.”

“False.”

“Yes. She’s using glitter charms.”

“Print it.”

“Three Hufflepuffs operating an essay-writing circle.”

“Hypocrites. Print it.”

“A prefect secretly sleeping in the Astronomy Tower to avoid his roommates.”

“Leave him alone.”

“Mulciber cried in Greenhouse Three.”

“Print it twice.”

Barty nodded solemnly.

“Public interest.”

Regulus turned a page.

“What about the Gryffindor section?”

Every Gryffindor became motionless.

Pandora’s smile widened.

“We have material.”

Sirius closed his eyes.

“No,” he silently begged.

Pandora pulled out a separate folder.

It was very thick.

“The lead story,” she said, “is Sirius Black’s alleged secret engagement to the Giant Squid.”

Sirius’s eyes snapped open.

James immediately stuffed his fist into his mouth.

Peter doubled over.

Remus leaned his forehead against the wall and shook.

Lily’s face turned red with the effort of containing laughter.

Inside the classroom, Regulus considered the headline.

“Too obvious.”

“The photographs are compelling.”

“What photographs?” Barty asked eagerly.

Pandora laid them out.

The first showed Sirius standing beside the Black Lake, gesturing dramatically.

A tentacle rose behind him.

The second showed Sirius leaning over the water.

The tentacle appeared to touch his cheek.

The third showed Sirius falling in.

Regulus studied them.

“Caption the second one ‘A Tender Moment.’”

Sirius made a strangled noise.

Remus grabbed his shoulders.

Pandora wrote it down.

“Do we include the witness statement?”

“Which one?”

“The anonymous student who claims to have heard Black whisper, ‘No one understands me like you do.’”

“I WAS TALKING TO JAMES,” Sirius mouthed furiously.

James looked delighted.

Regulus tapped one photograph.

“Print it.”

Pandora placed it in the approved pile.

“What else?” Regulus asked.

“Potter’s hair routine.”

James’s amusement vanished.

“What about it?” Regulus asked.

“An exposé. Seven products. Two charms. One stolen bottle of Sleekeazy’s.”

James clutched his hair protectively.

“That’s private,” he whispered.

Lily stared at him.

“Seven products?”

“Not now.”

“Potter denies all allegations,” Pandora continued.

“He does that,” Regulus said.

“We have testimony from his dormitory.”

Every head turned towards Peter.

Peter’s mouth fell open.

He pointed frantically at himself and shook his head.

Remus slowly smiled.

Peter pointed at Remus.

Remus raised both hands.

Inside, Barty asked, “What’s the headline?”

Pandora read, “‘Untameable or Carefully Constructed? The Truth Beneath Potter’s Coiffure.’”

Regulus’s lips twitched.

“Print.”

James looked betrayed by the universe.

“Marlene McKinnon’s illegal broom modifications,” Pandora continued.

Marlene stiffened.

“Frank Longbottom’s secret biscuit cache.”

Frank went pale.

Alice turned to him.

“You said you were out.”

Frank avoided her eyes.

“Fabian Prewett’s inability to distinguish merlot from furniture polish.”

Gideon silently convulsed.

Fabian hit him again.

“Gideon Prewett’s anonymous love poem to Madam Pince.”

Fabian stopped laughing.

Gideon went scarlet.

Everyone stared at him.

“It was a dare,” he mouthed.

“Mary Macdonald’s ongoing feud with the portrait of Sir Cadogan.”

“He started it,” Mary whispered.

“Alice Fortescue’s black-market fudge and ice cream distribution.”

Alice looked offended.

“It’s not black market. It’s confectionery.”

“Peter Pettigrew’s surprising success at poker.”

Peter blinked.

“That one’s nice.”

“Lily Evans’s library fines.”

Lily’s face hardened.

“I returned those books.”

“Remus Lupin’s mysterious monthly absences.”

The laughter vanished.

Regulus’s expression changed at once.

“Remove it.”

Pandora nodded without question.

“Already redacted.”

“Entirely?”

“Entirely.”

“No jokes. No speculation.”

“None.”

Remus stared through the gap.

For a moment, he did not seem to breathe.

Regulus put the page aside.

“Use something else for Lupin.”

Pandora flipped through her notes.

“He corrects grammar in bathroom graffiti.”

Barty burst out laughing.

Remus shut his eyes.

James slapped a hand over his own mouth.

Regulus considered it.

“Harmless.”

“Headline: ‘The Phantom Pedant of the Second-Floor Lavatory.’”

“Print.”

Remus looked deeply resigned.

“And Evans, wasn’t there another?” Regulus asked.

Pandora held up another note. “She threatened a suit of armour.”

“It called me a harlot,” Lily whispered furiously.

“Print both,” Regulus said.

Pandora added them to the stack.

Sirius’s face remained fixed in horror.

“The squid rumour,” he mouthed. “He did that.”

Mary wiped tears from her cheeks.

Regulus selected a blank page and began sketching.

“What is that?” Evan asked.

“Comic.”

“Who annoyed you?”

“Sirius.”

Sirius placed a hand over his heart.

“What did he do?” Pandora asked.

“He called me dull.”

“Capital offence,” Dorcas said.

Regulus’s quill moved quickly.

Within moments, he had drawn a caricature of Sirius posing before a mirror while his reflection attempted to escape the frame.

Barty leaned over.

“Make his hair bigger.”

Regulus enlarged it.

“Bigger.”

Regulus enlarged it again.

“Bigger.”

“It will obscure the dialogue.”

“His hair obscures his personality.”

Regulus added a speech bubble.

Pandora read it aloud.

“‘Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the most traumatically self-obsessed of them all?’”

Dorcas choked on her drink.

Evan put down his ruler and laughed into his hand.

Even Regulus smiled—a small, sharp, fleeting thing.

Sirius looked devastated.

“He draws me ugly.”

Remus glanced at the comic.

“He’s captured your hair well.”

“My own brother.”

“You called him dull.”

“I didn’t know he ran the press.”

“That would have changed your opinion?”

“I respect journalism.”

“You threatened to hex the writer last month.”

“I respect journalism that is not about me.”

Regulus pinned the comic to the layout board.

“The print run?”

“Three hundred,” Pandora said.

“Four.”

“Demand?”

“Addiction.”

“Four hundred, then.”

Lily’s eyes widened.

“Four hundred copies,” she whispered.

“There are only about a thousand students,” Alice murmured.

“Upper years share them,” Mary said. “One copy goes through an entire dormitory.”

“They’re making a fortune,” Frank whispered.

At the front, Evan asked, “Do we raise the price?”

“No,” Regulus said.

Barty groaned again.

Regulus gave him a cold look.

“The magazine is not primarily for profit.”

“What is it for?” Dorcas asked.

“Information.”

“Control,” Evan corrected.

Regulus’s mouth curved faintly.

“Information is control.”

Sirius stared.

James slowly turned to him.

“Your brother is terrifying.”

Sirius did not answer.

Regulus closed The Keyhole folder.

“Distribution remains anonymous. No one outside this room learns who writes, edits, photographs, or prints. Sellers receive sealed bundles. Couriers are paid per route. Anyone caught names a false supplier.”

“Which one?” Barty asked.

Regulus looked at him as though the answer were obvious.

“Lucius Malfoy.”

Everyone inside nodded.

Outside, Sirius mouthed, Fair.

Regulus moved to the next heading.

“Wagers.”

Barty sprang to his feet.

At last, he looked entirely at home.

He swept his notes aside and carried a huge ledger to the front.

“My domain.”

“Sit down,” Regulus said.

“I present better standing.”

“You pace.”

“I inspire.”

“You spit when excited.”

Barty sat.

Regulus passed him the chalk.

Barty beamed.

“Current markets,” he announced. “Quidditch, romance, violence, academics, staff behaviour, weather, unexplained phenomena, and miscellaneous.”

“Unexplained phenomena?” Evan asked.

“Whether the thing in Pandora’s crate grows legs.”

Pandora looked down at it.

The crate scratched from within.

Dorcas lifted both feet off the floor.

Barty wrote numbers across the board.

“Quidditch first. Next weekend's match. Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw odds have shifted after Potter’s shoulder injury.”

James instinctively touched his shoulder.

“How do they know about that?” he whispered.

Mary looked at him.

“You complained for four days.”

“I told people it was fine.”

“You complained while telling them.”

Barty continued.

“Black to receive a penalty within the first ten minutes is paying two to one.”

Sirius looked offended.

“Too low.”

“Because you always do,” Remus whispered.

“McKinnon to break a bat is five to one.”

Marlene nodded thoughtfully.

“Worth a bet.”

“Longbottom to score from beyond the centre line, eight to one.”

Frank blinked.

“I could do that.”

Alice looked at him proudly.

“Prewett collision market remains open.”

Fabian and Gideon exchanged glances.

“Which Prewett?” Dorcas asked.

“Either. Same odds.”

“That is insulting,” Fabian mouthed.

“That is efficient,” Gideon whispered back.

Barty flipped a page.

“Romance. Potter and Evans have moved from twenty to one to twelve to one after Tuesday’s library incident.”

James turned towards Lily.

Lily’s eyes narrowed.

“What library incident?” Peter whispered.

James looked away.

Lily mouthed, He walked into a shelf.

Barty continued.

“Black and McKinnon remain impossible to price due to excessive violence.”

Marlene made a face of sapphic disgust and violence.

Sirius looked insulted for a different, more flamboyant reason.

“Lupin and the mystery Hufflepuff have fallen after the Hufflepuff was seen kissing a Ravenclaw.”

Remus frowned.

“There is no mystery Hufflepuff.”

“Apparently there was,” Mary whispered.

“Pettigrew and Fortescue’s cousin entered the market at thirty to one.”

Peter’s ears went red.

Alice turned towards him very slowly.

Peter covered his face.

“Frank and Alice remain suspended,” Barty said. “Existing relationship. No meaningful uncertainty.”

Alice smiled.

Frank looked relieved to be excluded from financial speculation.

“Staff romance?” Regulus prompted.

Barty’s grin became wicked.

“McGonagall and Pomfrey friendship reconciliation, three to one. Slughorn to propose to his own reflection, seven to one. Filch and Madam Pince, nine to one. Dumbledore and dramatic secrecy, one to one.”

“Not technically romance,” Evan said.

“It’s his most committed relationship.”

Regulus nodded.

“Acceptable.”

“Teacher drama,” Barty went on. “Vector to throw a book at Sinistra before Friday, four to one. Kettleburn to lose another finger before Christmas, six to one. Flitwick to swear during third-year Ravenclaw, twelve to one.”

“He swears?” Peter whispered.

“He teaches third-year Ravenclaw,” Lily replied.

“Fights and feuds,” Barty said. “Avery versus Mulciber rematch, five to two. Hufflepuff staircase dispute, currently even. Ravenclaw chess society schism, three to one. Sirius Black versus common sense, common sense paying forty to one.”

Sirius looked outraged.

Everyone else nodded.

“Who writes these odds?” he mouthed.

Remus pointed at Barty.

“I know, but who approved them?”

Everyone pointed at Regulus.

Sirius’s eyes narrowed at his brother.

Barty turned another page.

“Miscellaneous. Potter to set his own robes on fire before term ends, six to one. Pettigrew to beat a prefect at cards, four to one. Evans to punch someone, seven to two. McKinnon to be punched, three to one. A Prewett to be banned from the kitchens, two to one. Both Prewetts, five to one. Black to discover the identity of The Keyhole’s editor—”

Barty paused.

Every Gryffindor leaned in.

“—one hundred and fifty to one.”

Sirius went rigid.

James buried his face in his sleeve.

Barty looked at Regulus.

“Should we close that market?”

“No,” Regulus replied. “It is free money.”

Sirius’s expression became murderous.

Remus held his collar again.

Barty made a note.

“Now the high-interest markets.”

He drew three circles on the board.

“Who gets expelled first?”

“Barty,” Evan said.

“Market excludes me due to unfair advantage.”

“Sensible.”

“Who discovers the Room of Requirement next?”

James’s head snapped up.

Regulus said, “No bets involving undisclosed locations.”

“Fine. Who is secretly an Animagus?”

James, Sirius, and Peter stopped breathing.

Remus closed his eyes.

Barty stared at the ledger.

“We have unusually heavy wagering on Potter.”

Regulus looked faintly amused.

“Why?”

“His hair.”

“That is not evidence.”

“It is evidence of something.”

James touched his hair again.

Regulus took the chalk back.

“Limit individual wagers. No student bets more than ten galleons on personal relationships, and no first years.”

“They barely have money,” Barty said.

“They barely understand odds.”

“They learn.”

“Not from you.”

Barty muttered but wrote it down.

“Fight club,” Regulus said.

Dorcas stood.

She did not need to be told twice.

She carried the banner to the front and pinned it across the bottom half of the blackboard.

Then she unrolled a second sheet showing brackets, names, weights, records, and scheduled matches.

The hidden Gryffindors stared.

“You cannot be serious,” Lily whispered.

Sirius looked at her.

“I’m always Sirius.”

Lily shoved his face away.

Dorcas pointed to the brackets.

“Last week’s matches went well. No staff interference. Two minor injuries. One broken nose. One dislocated shoulder. Three chipped teeth.”

“Minor?” Alice whispered.

“Compared to Dorcas,” Marlene murmured, “yes.”

Dorcas continued.

“Revenue up thirty percent. Attendance hit one hundred and twelve. We need a larger location.”

“The old duelling chamber?” Evan suggested.

“Too close to the dungeons.”

“Greenhouse cellar?”

“Too wet.”

“Boathouse?” Barty asked.

“Too many windows.”

Regulus studied the map.

“The disused laundry below the west staircase.”

Dorcas nodded slowly.

“Two entrances. Stone floor. Drainage.”

“Soundproofing?”

“Pandora.”

Pandora saluted with a chip.

“Capacity?”

“One-fifty standing. More if we remove the boilers.”

“Do it.”

Dorcas made a note.

Sirius stared at Regulus with an expression of mounting disbelief.

“He’s organising venues,” he whispered.

“Quietly,” Remus said.

“He’s a crime lord.”

“Quietly.”

“My baby brother is a crime lord.”

Marlene glanced at him.

“You sound proud.”

“I’m horrified.”

“You sound proud and horrified.”

“I contain multitudes.”

From inside, Barty shouted in offense to a comment made from Evan, “I contain multitudes.”

Sirius stared through the gap.

“Did he hear me?”

“No,” James whispered. “You’re both just irritating in the same way.”

Dorcas flipped to another bracket.

“Next Friday: third-year exhibition, fifth-year open, upper-year heavy, and the champions’ round.”

“Safety rules?” Regulus asked.

“No eye gouging. No biting. No wands. No blades. No attacks after surrender.”

“Hair pulling?”

“Allowed.”

“Groin?”

“Discouraged.”

“Define discouraged.”

“Crowd boos.”

Regulus nodded.

“Fine.”

“Medical?”

“Two student healers. Potions stocked. Anyone with a head injury goes to Pomfrey and claims they fell downstairs.”

“Again?” Evan asked. “She has noticed an epidemic of stair accidents.”

“There are a hundred and forty-two staircases.”

“She said the injuries look like punches.”

“Stairs are violent.”

Dorcas’s lips twitched.

“Now, fighters.”

She listed several names.

“Bellatrix remains banned after the last time she snuck into the school.”

Sirius perked up.

Regulus’s expression darkened.

“She tried to bring a knife.”

“She said it was ceremonial,” Barty said.

“She stabbed a table.”

“The table challenged her.”

“Bellie is banned,” Regulus repeated.

Sirius silently pointed at Regulus as though this proved everything.

He spends too much time with her, he mouthed.

Remus gave him a look.

“She taught Reg the knee stamp,” Dorcas said.

“And the ear clap,” Barty added.

“And how to smile while someone else realises they have made a terrible decision,” Evan said.

Regulus looked unimpressed.

“I knew how to do that already.”

“That,” Sirius whispered, “is exactly what I feared. Bella likes him. Bella doesn’t like anyone. She once pushed me down a staircase because I breathed near her.”

“You called her dress curtains,” Remus said.

“It looked like curtains.”

Dorcas tapped the champions’ bracket.

“Regulus is still the defending champion.”

Every hidden Gryffindor went utterly still.

Regulus leaned against the desk.

“Opponent?”

“Avery withdrew.”

“Coward,” Barty said.

“He watched the last match,” Dorcas replied.

“Still coward.”

“Mulciber offered.”

“No,” Regulus said immediately.

Dorcas nodded. “Agreed. He’s too heavy and doesn’t stop cleanly.”

“Dolohov?” Evan suggested.

“Already lost.”

“Lestrange?”

“Rabastan refuses to fight him.”

Sirius’s eyes bulged.

Regulus folded his arms.

“Open challenge.”

Barty’s head snapped up.

“Yes.”

“No,” Evan said.

“Yes,” Barty repeated.

“Last time we opened challenges, two seventh years tried to jump him together.”

Regulus’s expression remained blank.

“And?”

“You broke one’s wrist with the other one’s face.”

“They agreed to the rules.”

“They did not agree to become geometry.”

Dorcas tapped the board.

“Open challenge raises betting revenue.”

“How much?” Regulus asked.

“Projected sixty galleons.”

“Open it.”

Evan sighed.

“Of course.”

Barty was almost vibrating with excitement.

“You should enter masked.”

“No.”

“Cape?”

“No.”

“Theme music?”

“No.”

“Can I announce you?”

“No.”

“You are crushing the theatrical spirit of violence.”

“You screamed for four minutes during my last entrance.”

“The crowd loved it.”

“The crowd threw bottles.”

“At Avery.”

“One hit me.”

“You caught it.”

“And threw it at you.”

Barty smiled nostalgically.

“Good night.”

Marlene’s eyes shone.

“I need to see this fight club,” she whispered.

Lily turned on her.

“No.”

“I’m not saying I’ll fight.”

“You are thinking it loudly.”

Dorcas circled Regulus’s name.

“Record: twenty-four wins, zero losses.”

Sirius nearly choked.

James turned to him slowly.

“Twenty-four?”

“My brother doesn’t fight.”

Marlene stared at him.

“Your brother broke Mulciber’s nose last year.”

“He said a door did it.”

“A door with knuckles?”

“He’s very convincing.”

Inside, Evan leaned back.

“How much are you betting on yourself?”

“Twenty.”

“Thirty,” Barty said immediately.

“Twenty.”

“Your odds are terrible.”

“Because I always win.”

“Exactly. We need volume.”

Regulus looked at Dorcas.

“Current odds?”

“Two to one if the opponent remains unknown. Drops after reveal.”

“Forty.”

Evan closed his eyes.

Barty slapped the desk.

“Yes.”

“You just said twenty,” Dorcas noted.

“I changed my mind.”

“Because Crouch challenged you?”

“Yes.”

Barty looked delighted.

“My influence.”

“Your inability to manage money.”

“My money is managed beautifully.”

“You owe Pandora eleven sickles.”

Pandora nodded.

“For a frog.”

“It was not worth eleven sickles.”

“It knows your name.”

“It calls everyone Barty.”

“It has discernment.”

Regulus took the betting slip Dorcas offered and signed it.

Sirius watched his brother place forty galleons on his own victory.

His face passed through several emotions in quick succession.

Horror.

Disbelief.

Concern.

Offence.

And, finally, reluctant admiration.

“He bets on himself,” James whispered.

“That is absurdly cool,” Peter said.

Sirius rounded on him.

“He is being corrupted.”

“By himself?”

“Barty encourages him.”

“Regulus just ignored everything Barty said.”

“Manipulation can be subtle.”

Inside, Dorcas folded the betting slip.

“We should discuss your technique.”

Regulus looked bored.

“Why?”

“Because everyone has seen you fight now.”

“Not everyone.”

“Everyone who matters.”

“What does that mean?” Frank whispered.

Alice shrugged.

Dorcas continued. “They know you go low.”

“I am short.”

“They know you fake retreats.”

“They are stupid.”

“They know you target knees.”

“Everyone needs knees.”

“They know about the headbutt.”

“They should stop leaning down.”

Barty was grinning with open adoration.

“The headbutt is brilliant.”

“You lost a tooth.”

“I found it.”

“You cried.”

“I was moved.”

Evan pointed his ruler at Regulus.

“You need a new opening.”

Regulus considered.

“Throat.”

“No permanent damage,” Dorcas said.

“Solar plexus.”

“Predictable.”

“Foot.”

Barty looked confused.

“Foot?”

Regulus shifted his weight.

Then, with no warning, he kicked the leg of the empty chair beside Barty.

The chair shot forward, struck Barty behind the knees, and folded him neatly onto the floor.

Barty vanished with a yelp.

Dorcas nodded.

“Foot works. Just remember, if you’re going to scratch again trim your nails and keep your teeth to yourself”

Evan leaned over the desk to look down at Barty.

“Are you alive?”

Barty raised one hand.

“Deeply impressed.”

Regulus returned to the board as though nothing had happened.

Behind the chalkboard, Marlene’s expression was almost religious.

“I’m fighting him.”

Lily grabbed the back of her jumper.

“No.”

“I need to.”

“No.”

“For sporting reasons.”

“No.”

Sirius looked sick.

“Bella taught him that.”

“No,” Remus whispered. “I think Regulus taught himself that.”

“Worse.”

Regulus waited for Barty to climb back into his chair.

“Final item,” he said. “Reputation management.”

Evan’s head lifted.

Pandora looked interested.

Dorcas folded her arms.

Barty rubbed the backs of his knees.

Regulus drew a new line across the board.

“Recent incidents.”

Evan consulted a small notebook.

“Two prefect suspicions. One professor suspicion. Four student complaints. One direct accusation.”

“Names?”

“Prefect: Bertram Aubrey. Professor: Slughorn. Complaints mostly anonymous. Direct accusation from a Ravenclaw sixth year who claims you sold him a defective hall pass.”

“It was not defective.”

“He used it with Sprout.”

“It was signed by Flitwick.”

“He didn’t read it.”

“That is his defect.”

Evan crossed the complaint out.

“Slughorn?”

Regulus sighed.

“He saw me leaving the storeroom.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That I was looking for crystallised pineapple.”

“Did he believe you?”

“I gave him crystallised pineapple.”

“Then yes.”

“Prefects?”

“Redirected,” Pandora said.

“How?” Regulus asked.

“I told Aubrey that Barty is running a secret cult beneath the library.”

Barty looked delighted.

“Am I?”

“No.”

“Could I?”

“No,” four voices said at once.

Pandora turned a page.

“He spent three days watching Barty.”

“What did you do?” Dorcas asked.

Barty spread his hands.

“Gave him a show.”

“What kind?”

“I wore a hood. Spoke Latin. Sacrificed a sandwich.”

Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose.

“That explains the rumour about blood rituals.”

“It was tomato.”

Sirius’s face twisted vindictively.

“I knew there was a cult.”

“There isn’t a cult,” Lily whispered.

“There was a hood.”

“There was a sandwich.”

Evan looked at Regulus.

“The other prefect?”

“Handled.”

“How?”

Regulus went very still.

There was a fraction of a pause.

Sirius narrowed his eyes.

Evan’s expression shifted.

“You did it again.”

Regulus said nothing.

Barty slowly began to grin.

Dorcas looked from one to the other.

“Did what?”

Evan placed the notebook down.

“He did it again.”

Pandora clasped her hands beneath her chin.

“The Sirius manoeuvre?”

Sirius’s entire body tensed.

“What Sirius manoeuvre?” he mouthed.

No one answered.

Inside, Regulus picked up a piece of pizza.

“It was necessary.”

“It is always necessary when you say that,” Evan replied.

Dorcas pulled out a chair and sat backwards on it.

“Explain.”

Regulus ate the pizza.

Barty leaned across the desk.

“He pretended to be Sirius.”

The hidden passage became so silent that the faint scratching inside Pandora’s crate sounded deafening.

Sirius stared through the gap.

His face emptied.

Regulus chewed.

Swallowed.

Then said, “Only briefly.”

“How briefly?” Dorcas asked.

“Twenty minutes.”

“That is not brief.”

“It was enough.”

“For what?”

“To redirect the prefect.”

“How?”

Regulus looked bored by the question.

“I told him he had seen me—Sirius—placing illegal items in Regulus Black’s bag as a prank.”

Sirius’s mouth opened.

No sound emerged.

Evan rubbed his temple.

“And he believed you.”

“Obviously.”

“You are six inches shorter.”

“Five.”

“You have short hair.”

“Glamour charm.”

“You are slimmer.”

“Robes.”

“Your voices are different.”

“I can imitate him.”

Barty slapped both hands on the desk.

“Do it.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Just one sentence.”

“No.”

“Tell me I’m a disgrace to proper wizarding society.”

Regulus glared at him.

Then his posture changed.

It was subtle.

His shoulders loosened. His chin lifted. His mouth curled into a lazy, arrogant smirk. He raked one hand through hair that was far too short to move dramatically and looked down his nose at Barty.

When he spoke, Sirius Black’s voice came out.

Perfectly.

“Crouch, you’re a disgrace to proper wizarding society, but in fairness, proper wizarding society deserves it.”

Barty fell sideways against Evan, screaming with laughter.

Pandora applauded.

Dorcas stared in disbelief.

Evan closed his eyes as though he had suffered this before.

Behind the chalkboard, every Gryffindor turned to Sirius.

Sirius looked like a man watching his own ghost.

Regulus dropped the imitation.

“It works.”

“That was horrifying,” Dorcas said.

“Thank you.”

“How many times have you done this?” Evan asked.

Regulus reached for his drink.

“Define done.”

Sirius clutched James’s arm.

“Define done?” he mouthed.

James looked terrified to move.

Evan stared at Regulus.

“How many times have you successfully impersonated Sirius Black to avoid consequences?”

Regulus sipped his drink.

“Seven.”

Sirius’s knees buckled.

Remus and James caught him.

Barty looked ecstatic.

“Seven?”

“Eight if you count the time with Professor Binns.”

“No one counts anything involving Binns,” Dorcas said.

“What consequences?” Evan demanded.

Regulus glanced towards the ledger.

“Detentions. Point deductions. Complaints.”

Sirius’s eyes widened impossibly far.

“What complaints?” Pandora asked.

“Noise. Insolence. Contraband. Trespassing. One minor fire.”

“That was you?” Barty asked.

“It was contained.”

“The tapestry burned for six hours.”

“It was a stubborn tapestry.”

Sirius began silently counting on his fingers.

James watched realisation dawn across his face.

The random detentions.

The missing points.

The professors who had stopped him in corridors and demanded to know why he was not where he had been instructed to be.

The rumours of pranks he could not remember committing.

The time Professor Flitwick had assigned him three evenings of polishing trophies for “the incident involving fourteen charmed rubber ducks,” despite Sirius having no knowledge of any ducks.

The week McGonagall deducted twenty points from Gryffindor because he had “once again displayed a flagrant disregard for restricted corridors.”

The morning Madam Pince banned him from the library for allegedly climbing through a window.

Sirius had assumed the stories were exaggerated.

His legend often grew without assistance.

He had been privately flattered.

His face turned crimson.

“He framed me,” he mouthed.

Regulus, entirely unaware, continued.

“The system is efficient.”

“The system?” Evan repeated.

“Teachers already expect him to misbehave.”

Sirius looked personally stabbed.

“They rarely ask for evidence,” Regulus said. “Students assume any rumour about him is plausible. He receives so many detentions that he does not notice additions.”

Outside, Sirius’s jaw dropped.

Peter pressed a hand to his mouth.

Mary had tears streaming down her cheeks again.

Remus’s expression was one of profound, merciless delight.

Regulus picked up the chalk.

“The important thing is moderation. Too many incidents attract attention.”

“How many points have you lost under his name?” Dorcas asked.

Regulus paused.

Evan’s eyes narrowed.

“Regulus.”

“I do not know.”

“You keep records of everything.”

Regulus looked towards one of the filing cabinets.

Barty lunged out of his chair and reached it first.

Regulus moved.

Barty was faster.

He yanked open the top drawer and pulled out a thin red folder.

Regulus caught the back of his jumper.

Barty twisted away, laughing.

“Give that back.”

“No.”

“Barty.”

“Blackmail folder?”

“Accounting.”

“Even better.”

He opened it.

Regulus kicked the drawer shut, narrowly missing Barty’s fingers.

Barty danced backwards and read aloud.

“Sirius Black liability absorption.”

Sirius made a noise like a kettle reaching boil.

Dorcas took the folder from Barty.

Regulus stopped trying to retrieve it and folded his arms.

Dorcas scanned the page.

“Since September: eighty-five house points.”

Sirius’s soul appeared to leave his body.

James caught him again.

“Fourteen detentions,” Dorcas continued. “Three written warnings. Two bans from Hogsmeade. One library suspension. One Quidditch equipment restriction.”

Marlene turned towards Sirius.

“You said McGonagall was persecuting you.”

Sirius’s lips moved soundlessly.

“She was persecuting Regulus,” Remus whispered.

“Under Sirius’s face,” Peter added.

Sirius pointed violently through the gap.

Regulus was still standing with his arms folded, entirely unrepentant.

Dorcas flipped the page.

“What is ‘reputational noise’?”

“Rumours attached to him that obscure our operations,” Regulus said.

Sirius’s expression went blank.

Barty leaned over Dorcas’s shoulder.

“Oh, these are good.”

“Read them,” Pandora said.

Regulus closed his eyes briefly.

Barty began.

“Black seen smuggling a live peacock into the west tower.”

James shook with silent laughter.

“Black allegedly challenged a suit of armour to a duel and lost.”

Peter folded in half.

“Black suspected of enchanting thirty-seven portraits to sing rude songs about Dumbledore.”

Mary pressed both hands over her mouth.

“Black accused of distributing fake love letters from Professor Slughorn.”

Lily’s entire face reddened.

“Black seen fleeing the kitchens wearing nothing but a tablecloth and one boot.”

Fabian slid down the wall.

Gideon clung to him.

Sirius looked ready to commit fratricide.

“That one was believable,” Dorcas said.

“Thank you,” Regulus replied.

“It happened once,” Sirius mouthed. “Once.”

Remus gave him a curious look.

Sirius shook his head violently.

Barty continued.

“Black may be operating an illegal duelling ring.”

Dorcas raised her hand. “That’s us.”

“Yes.”

“Useful.”

“Black rumoured to be the editor of The Keyhole.”

Everyone inside the classroom laughed.

Outside, Sirius’s expression became incandescent.

“He used me as a decoy,” he whispered.

James was barely holding himself upright.

Regulus took the folder from Dorcas.

“You have all benefited from this arrangement.”

“How?” Evan asked.

“Every ridiculous story about Sirius makes actual reports involving us less credible. If someone sees a dark-haired Black near a restricted corridor, they assume him.”

“He is taller,” Dorcas said.

“People are unobservant.”

“He has long hair.”

“People are extremely unobservant.”

“He moves like he expects applause.”

Regulus’s mouth twitched.

“I can do that.”

Sirius’s hand went to his chest.

Regulus once again straightened into a perfect imitation.

He swept one hand towards the room, tossed his head, and said in Sirius’s voice, “Honestly, if I were committing crimes, they’d be better dressed.”

The room erupted.

Sirius trembled with outrage.

Marlene had to shove part of her sleeve into her mouth.

Regulus dropped the act.

“The point is that no one suspects me.”

The laughter eased.

His friends looked at him.

Regulus gestured towards the boards, the maps, the stock, the ledgers, the printing presses, the piles of money, the forged passes, the newspapers, the betting slips, and the fight brackets.

“I am quiet. I am small. I do not speak unless necessary. People discuss private matters beside me because they assume I am not listening. Teachers believe I am obedient because I submit essays on time. Gryffindors believe I spend every evening polishing family silver and plotting the extinction of Muggle-borns.”

Behind the board, no one moved.

Lily’s eyes lowered.

James’s grin faded.

Frank looked uncomfortable.

Alice drew her knees closer.

Regulus’s voice remained level.

“No one looks twice at the younger Black brother unless Sirius is standing beside me. No one asks where I go. No one asks what I know. If I sit in a corner, people forget I am there.”

Sirius stared at him.

Something in his face tightened.

Regulus turned the chalk between his fingers.

“So I listen.”

The room had gone quiet.

“I know which prefects take bribes. Which teachers leave windows unlocked. Which students need things they cannot request openly. Which routes Filch checks. Which portraits gossip. Which passwords change. Which families inspect their children’s post. Which students have money, which students need money, which students can keep secrets, and which students only believe they can.”

Barty watched him with open admiration.

Evan nodded once.

Pandora smiled softly.

Dorcas leaned back, arms folded, every inch the loyal lieutenant.

Regulus looked at the board.

“That is why this works.”

The hidden Gryffindors exchanged glances in the darkness.

They had followed the five expecting whispered slurs and dark symbols.

They had expected pure-blood arrogance, cruelty, perhaps recruitment.

It had seemed reasonable to them.

Regulus was a Black.

Barty was a Crouch with a reputation for instability.

Evan was a Rosier.

Pandora brewed things that hissed.

Dorcas had once thrown a seventh-year boy through a greenhouse door.

They were Slytherins.

They moved in shadows.

They spoke in low voices.

They kept secrets.

It had been easy to decide what the secrets must be.

Yet the green ledger remained separate from the profit books.

The Muggle items were sold at cost.

Love potions were forbidden.

Students were protected by anonymity.

Lupin’s secret had been removed without discussion.

The fight club had rules, healers, and surrender conditions.

The forgeries were limited.

The operation was illegal, manipulative, dishonest, intrusive, and very likely responsible for at least half the school’s disciplinary problems.

But it was not what they had assumed.

Not remotely.

Mary looked at Lily.

Lily’s mouth pressed into a thin line.

Frank looked ashamed.

Alice reached over and squeezed his hand.

Peter stared at Regulus as though seeing him for the first time.

Marlene still looked eager to fight him, but there was respect in it now.

Fabian and Gideon had stopped silently arguing.

James’s eyes were fixed on the maps.

Remus watched Regulus with an unreadable expression.

And Sirius—

Sirius looked like someone had taken the picture of his brother that he carried in his head, torn it cleanly in two, and revealed another image underneath.

At the front, Barty broke the silence.

“That was inspiring.”

Regulus looked at him.

“I was explaining logistics.”

“I felt inspired.”

“You feel inspired by arson.”

“Fire has vision.”

Evan collected the ledgers.

“We still need to discuss next month’s targets.”

Regulus checked the clock.

“Ten minutes.”

“Impossible,” Barty said.

“Possible if you stop speaking.”

“Oppressive workplace.”

“You are not employed.”

“I am senior management.”

“You are a liability with arithmetic skills.”

Barty looked pleased.

Dorcas rolled up the fight banner.

Pandora bent to peer into her crate.

It scratched back.

“Oh,” she said.

Everyone looked at her.

“What?” Evan asked.

“It has developed legs.”

Dorcas stood immediately.

Barty climbed onto his chair.

Regulus sighed.

“How many?”

“Six.”

“What is it?” Evan demanded.

Pandora opened the lid half an inch.

A green, scaled leg shot through the gap and clawed at the air.

Pandora calmly pushed it back inside.

“I’m not entirely sure.”

“Is it venomous?” Dorcas asked.

“It has venom.”

“That was not the question.”

“It seems confident.”

Regulus pointed at the corner.

“Put it beside the antidotes.”

“Which antidotes?”

“All of them.”

Pandora dragged the hissing crate across the floor.

Barty remained standing on the chair.

“Coward,” Dorcas said.

“It has six legs.”

“So do insects.”

“I don’t trust those either.”

Regulus wiped the board clean beneath REPUTATION MANAGEMENT.

“Targets.”

Evan read from a list.

“Expand food routes. Increase electronics stock. Complete twelve forgeries. Four hundred copies of The Keyhole. Relocate the fight club. Cap first-time wagers. Recruit two new couriers.”

“No recruiting from first or second year,” Regulus said.

“Third?”

“Only recommendations.”

“House preference?”

“No.”

“Blood status?”

Regulus looked at Evan.

Evan raised one hand.

“Administrative question.”

“None.”

Sirius’s eyes flickered.

Regulus continued.

“Skill and discretion only. No one who uses blood status as a threat, no one involved with supremacist groups, and no one who reports to older relatives.”

Barty made a face.

“That excludes half of Slytherin.”

“Then half of Slytherin is excluded.”

“What about cousins?” Pandora asked.

Regulus gave her a long look.

Pandora smiled.

“Bella would enjoy deliveries.”

“Bellie would open them.”

“She enjoys opening things.”

“Bellie remains uninvolved.”

Sirius exhaled softly.

“Thank fuck,” he whispered.

“Though,” Dorcas said, “she is useful for fight training.”

Regulus looked at the champions’ bracket.

“She is useful for teaching people to survive attempted murder.”

“Same thing.”

“No knives.”

“No knives,” Dorcas agreed.

Barty lowered himself back into his chair.

“What about expansion?”

Regulus looked at him.

“To where?”

“Beauxbatons.”

“No.”

“Durmstrang.”

“No.”

“Hogsmeade residents.”

“No.”

“The Ministry.”

“No.”

“Diagon Alley.”

“No.”

Barty spread his hands.

“You fear success.”

“I fear your ideas.”

“Same thing.”

Regulus capped the ink bottle.

“We remain inside Hogwarts.”

“For now,” Pandora said dreamily.

Regulus looked at her.

Pandora smiled at the crate.

It growled.

Regulus decided not to ask.

Evan counted the money on the desk.

“Profit this month is two hundred and eighty-four galleons, eleven sickles, and six knuts.”

Every Gryffindor’s eyes widened.

“After expenses?” Dorcas asked.

“After expenses.”

Barty whistled.

“Divisions?”

“Twenty percent reserves,” Regulus said. “Twenty restocking. Ten emergency fund. Ten couriers and sellers. Ten printing. Ten medical. Five bribes.”

“Leaves fifteen,” Evan said.

“Divide between us.”

Barty sat upright.

“Equal?”

“Equal.”

“You do more.”

Regulus looked at the board.

“Everyone does about the same.”

Barty frowned.

“You built it.”

“We run it.”

No one argued after that.

Evan divided the coins into five neat piles.

Regulus gathered the approved Keyhole pages.

Pandora tied the green ledger closed.

Dorcas rolled both banners together.

Barty stole the last slice of pizza.

Regulus slapped his hand away.

“I was eating that.”

“You abandoned it.”

“It was beside me.”

“Emotionally abandoned.”

Regulus took it back.

Barty reached for a chip instead.

Evan smacked his knuckles with the ruler.

“Ow.”

“Those are mine.”

“You are all selfish.”

“We are dividing nearly three hundred galleons with you,” Dorcas said.

“And yet no one gives me chips.”

“You ate two burgers.”

“Food is not cumulative.”

Regulus ate the pizza while examining the final checklist.

“Meeting adjourned in three minutes. Clear all visible stock. Reset the ward. Dorcas takes the west route. Pandora and Evan take the stairs. Barty takes the passage behind the portrait.”

“What about you?” Evan asked.

“I’ll go around the courtyards.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

Sirius tensed.

Evan gave Regulus a considering look.

“Use your own face tonight.”

Regulus’s gaze flattened.

“I always use my own face.”

“When convenient.”

“Do not get caught,” Dorcas said.

“I do not get caught.”

“You get Sirius caught,” Barty corrected.

Regulus’s lips twitched.

“That is different.”

Behind the board, Sirius began trembling again.

James leaned close.

“Do not burst out.”

“He stole my face.”

“Do not burst out.”

“He stole my reputation.”

“You didn’t take care of it.”

“He used my hair for crime.”

“Your hair has done worse.”

“He made me lose eighty-five points.”

“You’ve lost more than that yourself.”

“That is not the point.”

Regulus closed the red folder.

Barty began stuffing empty containers into the McDonald’s bag.

Pandora tapped the crate twice.

It tapped back six times.

Dorcas lifted one end cautiously.

The crate growled.

“Why am I carrying this?”

“It likes you,” Pandora said.

“It tried to bite me.”

“That is how it shows interest.”

“Then it should be less interested.”

The five moved around the room with practised precision.

Shelves rotated into the walls.

Maps rolled themselves tightly.

The printing presses folded into ordinary desks.

Money vanished into false-bottomed boxes.

Ledgers disappeared behind loose stones.

The stock bottles slid beneath floorboards.

Within minutes, the headquarters of a sprawling school-wide criminal network looked like an abandoned classroom containing nothing more suspicious than chalk dust and broken chairs.

James watched with awe.

“They’ve rehearsed this.”

“They’ve done this for years,” Remus said.

“How did we not know?”

“Because we were buying their products through Hufflepuffs.”

James winced.

The five gathered by the door.

Regulus checked each person.

“Routes?”

“West,” Dorcas said.

“Stairs,” Evan and Pandora answered together.

“Portrait,” Barty said.

“Delivery tomorrow?”

“Midnight,” Evan replied.

“Press?”

“Thursday,” Pandora said.

“Fight registration?”

“Closes Friday,” Dorcas said.

“Odds?”

“Updated by breakfast,” Barty said.

Regulus nodded.

“Good.”

For one strange moment, they stood around him in a loose circle.

Not followers cowed by fear.

Not recruits being corrupted.

Partners.

Loyal, alert, amused, and entirely accustomed to taking instructions from the smallest person in the room.

Barty bumped his shoulder against Regulus’s.

Evan handed him the black ledger.

Pandora tucked a stray piece of chalk into his pocket.

Dorcas gave him a short nod.

Regulus looked at them all.

“Try not to create any new emergencies I have to deal with before Monday.”

Barty raised his hand.

“No.”

“You do not know what I was going to say.”

“You were going to ask what qualifies as an emergency.”

“I was.”

“If you must ask, it qualifies.”

Dorcas opened the door.

The five left in different directions.

The locks clicked behind them.

The classroom went silent.

The Gryffindors remained hidden for another full minute.

No one spoke.

Then Sirius shoved the chalkboard aside and fell into the room.

The others spilled out after him, stiff, dusty, and stunned.

Sirius stood amid the abandoned chairs, staring at the place where Regulus had been.

James picked up a forgotten chip from the desk.

Lily slapped it out of his hand.

“That is evidence.”

“It’s a chip.”

“It could be enchanted.”

James looked at the chip on the floor.

“Worth it.”

Mary walked slowly towards the blackboard.

Most of the writing had vanished, but faint traces remained.

SUPPLY.

PUBLICATIONS.

WAGERS.

COMBAT.

Fabian opened the desk drawer.

Empty.

“Two hundred and eighty-four galleons,” he said faintly.

Gideon leaned over his shoulder.

“And we fund them.”

Fabian slammed the drawer.

“I have never felt more betrayed.”

“You bought itching powder from a fake Zonko’s catalogue printed by two Slytherins.”

“It had a logo.”

“It was drawn by Rosier.”

“It was a very convincing logo.”

Peter held up his red Game Boy.

“This might be counterfeit.”

Remus examined it.

“It is counterfeit contraband sold in imitation of their authentic contraband.”

Peter put it carefully back in his pocket.

“I think that makes it rarer.”

Marlene strode to the remnants of the fight bracket.

“I’m registering.”

“No,” Lily said.

“You are not my mother.”

“I’m the only person here behaving like someone’s mother.”

Alice touched one of the faint names.

“Twenty-four wins.”

Frank stared at Regulus’s erased record.

“He doesn’t look like he could win fights.”

“That,” Remus said quietly, “is probably why he wins.”

James stood before the now-empty publication desk.

“The Keyhole.”

Mary groaned.

“The squid story.”

Sirius whirled around.

“The squid story?”

Everyone looked at him.

His hair was dusty. There was a cobweb caught near one ear. His face had gone beyond outrage and entered a state of spiritual offence.

“He has been publishing lies about me.”

“You did fall in the lake,” Remus said.

“He implied I was romantically involved with a cephalopod.”

“The photograph was intimate,” Peter admitted.

“It touched my face because James pushed me.”

James raised a hand.

“In my defence, that was funny.”

Sirius pointed towards the door.

“He has been impersonating me.”

“Yes,” Lily said.

“For crime.”

“Yes.”

“For eight crimes.”

“Seven,” Alice corrected. “He said Binns doesn’t count.”

“Fourteen detentions.”

“That we know about,” Mary added.

Sirius looked stricken.

“Eighty-five points.”

“You’ve lost more,” James reminded him.

“Stop saying that. These were stolen points.”

“Technically, they were falsely attributed points.”

“Stolen.”

“He also framed you for a peacock,” Gideon said.

“And a tablecloth incident,” Fabian added.

Sirius’s eyes shifted.

No one missed it.

Lily narrowed hers.

“The tablecloth one was real, wasn’t it?”

“That is irrelevant.”

“It was real.”

“I was young.”

“It was last February,” Remus said.

“The past is the past.”

James paced around the room, looking at the blank walls with growing excitement.

“This is incredible.”

Lily turned to him.

“No, it is not.”

“It is.”

“It is illegal.”

“It is organised.”

“It supplies alcohol to children.”

“We are children.”

“That is not a defence.”

“It supplies books to people whose parents ban them,” Alice said softly.

Lily glanced at her.

Alice folded her arms.

“I’m not saying the rest is good. But that part is.”

“And the love potion rule,” Frank said.

“And Remus’s article,” Peter added.

Remus looked away.

Mary leaned against the desk.

“They could have printed it.”

No one needed to ask what she meant.

Remus’s gaze remained on the floor.

“But they didn’t,” Alice said.

Lily looked towards the board.

“We were wrong.”

Sirius, still furious, made a strangled sound.

“We were wrong about what they were doing,” Lily clarified. “Not about everything. The forgery, the alcohol, the fighting—”

“The gossip,” Mary said, though she looked fascinated rather than disapproving.

“The betting,” Frank added.

“The extortionate prank markup,” Fabian said bitterly.

“Cost of business,” Gideon told him.

“Traitor.”

Lily exhaled.

“But we followed them because we assumed they were recruiting students into blood supremacy.”

No one answered.

“We saw five Slytherins carrying boxes,” she continued, “and decided there must be something dark inside them.”

Pandora’s crate growled faintly from somewhere down the corridor.

Marlene tilted her head.

“There was definitely something dark inside one box.”

“That is not the point.”

“It had six legs.”

“The point,” Lily said firmly, “is that we assumed.”

James shoved his hands into his pockets.

“To be fair, Barty did fake a cult.”

“With a sandwich,” Remus said.

“It was a suspicious sandwich.”

“We assumed,” Lily repeated.

Her voice quietened.

“And Regulus knew we would.”

Sirius looked at her.

Lily gestured towards the room.

“That is part of how he hid this. Everyone expects the wrong thing from him.”

The words settled heavily.

Sirius turned away.

For a while, he said nothing.

James watched him.

Remus did too.

Sirius stared at the front of the classroom, where Regulus had stood pointing at plans, correcting figures, rejecting love potions, protecting names, and ordering four other people around like he had been born behind that desk.

“My poor sweet little baby brother,” Sirius whispered finally.

Marlene groaned.

“Not again.”

“He’s become a criminal mastermind.”

“He was already a criminal mastermind,” Remus said. “You simply hadn’t noticed.”

“I was meant to be the interesting brother.”

James patted his shoulder.

“You still have the hair.”

“He copied that too.”

“He couldn’t copy the length.”

“He used a glamour.”

“Tragic.”

Sirius turned to face them, eyes wild.

“Do you understand what this means?”

“That your detentions may be tax-deductible?” Gideon offered.

“That he is cooler than me.”

Silence.

Sirius looked around desperately.

No one contradicted him.

His face collapsed.

“You all think it.”

“Think what?” Alice asked kindly.

“That he is cooler.”

Marlene raised her hand.

“Yes.”

“So do I,” Peter admitted.

Fabian lifted his.

“Crime empire.”

Gideon followed.

“Secret newspaper.”

Mary raised both hands.

“The comics alone.”

Frank hesitated, then raised one hand.

“He seems very organised.”

Alice lifted hers too.

“He helps people.”

James raised his hand with a grin.

“He sold us our own pranks.”

Remus raised his slowly.

“He has a fake French identity with a moustache.”

Lily did not raise hers.

Sirius looked relieved.

Then Lily said, “I’m not participating in this childish vote, but objectively, yes.”

Sirius clutched his chest.

“Evans.”

“I said objectively.”

“He has fight wins,” Marlene said.

“And no losses,” Peter added.

“He runs a betting ring,” Fabian said.

“He bets on himself,” Gideon said.

“He edits The Keyhole,” Mary said.

“He’s been forging McGonagall’s emotional handwriting,” James said.

“He has a microwave,” Frank added.

Everyone looked at him.

Frank shrugged.

“That surprised me.”

Sirius walked to the teacher’s desk and dropped into the chair.

“My little brother has a kingdom.”

Remus leaned against the front row.

“Yes.”

“Under my nose.”

“Apparently.”

“He’s been using my reputation as camouflage.”

“Yes.”

“He called me reputational noise.”

“That was cruel,” Alice said.

“Accurate,” Marlene added.

Sirius pointed at her.

“You are not helping.”

James sat on the edge of the desk.

“What are we going to do?”

Lily’s eyes narrowed.

“We are not joining.”

“I didn’t say joining.”

“You were about to.”

“I was going to say investigating.”

“You have already investigated.”

“We could investigate further.”

“No.”

“We could buy shares.”

“No.”

“Become preferred customers?”

“No.”

“Submit a correction to The Keyhole about my hair?”

“You use seven products.”

“That is not the point.”

Mary brightened.

“We could send an anonymous letter to the advice column.”

Sirius looked up.

“Yes.”

Lily groaned.

“No.”

“We could expose Regulus.”

The room went quiet.

Sirius said it without drama this time.

He looked towards the locked door.

“We know everything.”

“Not everything,” Remus said.

“Enough.”

Peter shifted uncomfortably.

“If we expose him, everyone who buys from them gets exposed too.”

“The Muggle stuff,” Alice said.

“The forged sick notes,” Frank added.

“The fight club,” Marlene said mournfully.

Lily looked at her.

“What? I care about justice.”

“You care about punching.”

“Two things can be true.”

James folded his arms.

“And if we tell a professor, Regulus will know someone followed them.”

“He’ll move the whole operation,” Mary said.

“He’ll publish us,” Gideon added.

“He already publishes us,” Fabian said.

“He’ll publish worse.”

Sirius imagined it.

His face paled.

Remus picked up a broken piece of chalk.

“There is another issue.”

“What?” James asked.

Remus looked at Sirius.

“If Regulus believes someone has discovered the network, who do you think he will blame?”

Sirius stared at him.

Then he looked at the red folder’s former hiding place.

“Me.”

“Exactly.”

“He’ll frame me for exposing him.”

“Probably.”

“He’ll write an article claiming I’m jealous.”

“Are you?” Mary asked.

“No.”

Everyone stared.

Sirius’s mouth twisted.

“Not entirely.”

James grinned.

Sirius pointed at him.

“He is my younger brother. He is supposed to be quietly impressed by me.”

“He called you reputational noise,” Peter said.

“I heard him.”

“He turned you into an accounting category,” Remus added.

“I heard him.”

“He makes more money than you,” Fabian said.

“I heard him.”

“He has loyal followers,” Gideon added.

Sirius rose from the chair.

“I have loyal followers.”

James looked around.

“Do you mean us?”

“Yes.”

“We don’t take notes when you speak.”

“You should.”

“We actively discourage you.”

“That is a form of loyalty.”

Lily brushed dust from her knees.

“We say nothing.”

Sirius whipped around.

“What?”

“We say nothing,” Lily repeated. “For now.”

“Why?”

“Because exposing them would hurt students who are using the network for reasons they can’t safely discuss. Because we obtained this information by following them and hiding inside a wall. Because we still don’t understand the whole operation.”

“Because Regulus will destroy us in print,” Mary said.

“That too.”

James looked disappointed.

“So we just pretend none of this happened?”

“We observe.”

His expression brightened.

“Reconnaissance.”

“No stalking.”

“Moral reconnaissance.”

“No.”

Marlene pointed at the fight bracket.

“I’m still entering.”

“No.”

“You cannot stop me.”

“I can tell McGonagall.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Lily gave her a look.

Marlene considered.

“You might.”

Frank looked towards the door.

“Do you think they genuinely didn’t know we were here?”

Everyone turned towards the chalkboard.

There were fingerprints in the dust.

The board had shifted twice.

Evan had checked behind them in the corridor.

Regulus had looked directly at the tapestry.

Remus slowly frowned.

“He notices everything.”

Sirius’s eyes narrowed.

James looked back at the hidden passage.

“They didn’t know,” Peter said uncertainly.

“Regulus said no one looks twice at him,” Alice murmured.

“But he looks twice at everyone,” Lily replied.

A silence fell.

Then, from somewhere beneath the teacher’s desk, there came a quiet click.

Everyone froze.

James crouched and reached underneath.

His fingers found a small folded card secured to the underside of the wood.

He pulled it free.

Black ink covered one side.

James unfolded it.

Eleven Gryffindors crowded around.

The handwriting was neat, narrow, and unmistakable.

It read:

NEXT TIME, BREATHE QUIETER.

Beneath it, in smaller writing:

SIRIUS — YOU OWE ME EIGHTY-FIVE POINTS’ WORTH OF SILENCE.

At the bottom was a tiny sketch of Sirius staring lovingly into the eyes of the Giant Squid.

No one spoke.

Sirius took the card.

His hands shook.

James leaned over his shoulder.

“He knew.”

“He knew the entire time,” Lily whispered.

Remus looked towards the locked door.

“He let us listen.”

Mary’s eyes widened.

“Why?”

Fabian glanced at the erased board.

“To show off.”

Gideon nodded slowly.

“Fair.”

Peter looked awed.

“He wanted us to know.”

“No,” Sirius said.

Everyone turned to him.

Sirius stared down at the cartoon.

His brother had captured his hair beautifully.

Far too beautifully.

“He wanted me to know.”

At the bottom of the card, beneath the squid drawing, a final line of ink appeared.

The letters wrote themselves slowly.

ISSUE FORTY-SEVEN RELEASES FRIDAY.

A second line followed.

THE QUIET KING AND HIS ELEVEN IDIOTS.

Mary gasped.

James grinned.

Lily closed her eyes.

Marlene began laughing.

Frank looked alarmed.

Alice covered her smile.

Fabian swore.

Gideon applauded.

Peter checked the corners for a hidden camera.

Remus took the card from Sirius and examined the ink.

Sirius stood completely still.

Then a third line appeared.

THE ODDS ON SIRIUS DISCOVERING THE EDITOR HAVE BEEN UPDATED.

One hundred and fifty to one scratched itself out.

Beneath it, new numbers formed.

One hundred and forty-nine to one.

Sirius stared at the card.

His mouth fell open.

From far down the corridor came the faint sound of Barty Crouch Junior laughing.

Then Regulus’s voice, cool and distant:

“Do not be cruel.”

A pause.

Another line appeared.

One hundred and forty-eight to one.

Sirius threw open the classroom door.

“REGULUS ARCTURUS BLACK!”

His shout thundered through the abandoned corridor.

Footsteps scattered in several directions.

Barty’s laughter grew louder.

Pandora’s crate roared.

Dorcas shouted something about the west staircase.

Evan yelled, “I told you the card was too much.”

And somewhere beyond them all, moving lightly and quickly through the castle he had quietly made his own, Regulus Black laughed.