Regulus's perceptive gift had been with him since birth.
The faint silver traces left behind when magic moved, the rippling creases that appeared when space was forcibly twisted, the glittering points of power along the edges of pried-open seams… all of it, all the things you normally couldn't see, rose up in that brief instant and laid themselves bare.
He knew it immediately.
His perception had grown.
At first, he'd only been able to sense that magic existed at all. Later, he'd learned to read a plant's mood and condition. Now he could even catch the outline of space shifting, faint and hazy, but undeniably there.
It was still blurred, more shape and direction than detail, but it had gone from nothing to something.
That could mean a lot.
It meant finer control when he cast. It meant he could notice an incoming spell's path earlier when he was under attack. It meant he could push deeper, closer to the real question of what magic changed, and how it changed it.
"I'm doing it again," Regulus said.
Orion stepped back to the doorway, arms folded, and gave him an easy, permissive gesture.
Then came the second attempt. The third. The fourth.
Each one felt a little clearer than the last.
The resistance the instant space was forced open. The line his magic carved as it tore through. The awkward, sickening squeeze as his body was compressed and released again.
He started to adjust to the brutality of it, and when the pressure hit, he even learned to manage his breathing so the whole thing went a fraction smoother.
After the fifth Apparition, Orion finally spoke. "That's enough for today. If you keep going, you risk problems. When your mind can't hold steady, that's when splinching happens."
Regulus stopped. His will still felt firm, and he wasn't tired yet, but he accepted it. It gave him time to digest what he'd gained.
"Repeated Apparition drains you fast," Orion said, coming closer and pressing a hand to Regulus's shoulder. "When you're starting out, don't do more than ten a day. Once you're used to it, we'll talk."
"Understood."
Regulus barely heard him. His thoughts were fixed on what he'd seen.
Space felt like an elastic membrane. Apparition was stabbing a hole through it and forcing your way in.
So what if you did it differently?
What if you didn't punch a hole at all, but made the membrane dip, creating a smooth chute you could slide along?
Or even more than that, what if the membrane itself carried you from one side to the other?
Orion reactivated the training room's anti-Apparition charm.
This time, Regulus could feel the change clearly. Something closed around them, like an invisible wall sealing into place.
He stopped Orion as he turned to leave. "Let me try again."
Orion raised an eyebrow, then nodded.
With the anti-Apparition charm restored, Apparition wouldn't succeed. There was no real danger.
Regulus lifted his wand, still aiming for the stone platform.
"Apparition!"
His magic surged. The familiar squeeze returned… and then nothing.
Space didn't open. That invisible wall was solid in front of him, hard as real stone.
It felt like shoving against a thick, unmoving block with every ounce of strength he had, and the wall didn't give at all.
The backlash snapped down his wand and into his arm.
Regulus staggered back half a step, caught himself quickly, and felt a faint numbness shiver through his wrist.
But he'd seen it clearly.
The anti-Apparition charm looked like a net, woven from dense strands of magic, stretched tight over the entire room. Apparition had to tear through that net to pass, but the weave was too strong, too elastic. With his current power, he couldn't rip it at all.
Which raised an obvious question.
How did house-elves do it?
Regulus remembered Christmas Day, when Kreacher had brought him back from King's Cross to Grimmauld Place.
There had been no squeeze, no tearing, none of that suffocating sensation of being shoved through a tube. It had felt as if space itself simply stepped aside and let them through, like a door held open for a moment.
"Father." Regulus turned to Orion and lowered his wand. "House-elf space magic isn't the same as Apparition, is it?"
Orion blinked, caught off guard. It was clear he'd never really considered it.
He frowned, thinking for a few seconds before answering, hesitant. "Elf magic… is different, yes.
They don't use wands. A lot of their magic seems… inborn. They don't learn it.
Apparition is a skill wizards have to practice. For them, it's probably as natural as walking."
"They can cross anti-Apparition wards," Regulus said flatly.
"Yes." Orion nodded.
"Why?" Regulus pressed.
Orion went quiet for longer this time. He walked to the wall and ran his fingers over the carved runes in the stone, then finally shook his head.
"No wizard has studied it. Most don't pay much attention to elf magic."
Regulus knew what "most" meant.
It meant almost all.
Wizards had grown used to house-elves. They could clean, cook, look after children.
No one asked how they did it, because it worked, and that was enough.
Arrogance, carved right into the bones of the world.
For thousands of years, wizards had stood at the top of the magical food chain. Even when they acknowledged other races, it was with a faint, casual condescension.
Goblins minted coin. Centaurs watched the stars. Giants had brute strength. But wizards had wisdom, civilization, a system of magic passed down generation after generation.
And house-elves?
A bit of household magic. Nothing worth discussing.
Yet Regulus knew about the cave Voldemort had used to hide a Horcrux. Even Dumbledore couldn't Apparate directly inside, and he'd been forced to take a boat across that Inferi lake.
Kreacher, though, had come and gone freely.
That was not something "household magic" could explain.
"Kreacher," Regulus called softly.
Without a sound, the house-elf appeared in the corner of the training room, still wearing that filthy tea towel, a rag in his hand as if he'd been cleaning somewhere.
"Young master called Kreacher?" Kreacher's eyes flicked between Regulus and Orion. His ears twitched with nervous energy.
"Take me through space once," Regulus ordered. "From here to the entrance hall, then bring me back."
Kreacher looked to Orion, silent and questioning. Orion nodded. "Do as he says."
Only then did Kreacher extend his thin, wrinkled hand. There was dust caught beneath his nails.
This time, Regulus put all of his focus into sensing.
He was absolutely sure there was no squeeze, no tearing, not even a clear surge of magic.
He only felt the space around them ripple, like water disturbed by a fingertip. A soft distortion formed around him and Kreacher, so subtle it was almost nothing.
And then they were standing in the entrance hall.
The fire in the hearth burned brightly, snapping and crackling. The portraits on the walls turned as one. Some yawned, some frowned, a few leaned together to whisper.
Regulus stood perfectly still.
He saw it.
Space had folded, just slightly, and handed him from one side to the other.
Like folding a sheet of paper. Two points that were far apart suddenly touched when the paper bent.
No wonder it could bypass anti-Apparition wards.
That net of magic was built to resist tearing and piercing, but it couldn't stop folding. The net was still there, intact, but the path no longer went through it. It went around it, slipping beneath without ever forcing its way through.
"Back," Regulus said.
Kreacher brought him to the training room again.
Orion was still waiting, watching him closely. "You felt it?"
"Completely different," Regulus said, already sorting every detail in his mind.
"Apparition is forcing your way through. If you can't open the door, you smash a hole in the wall. Elves take a detour. The wall stays, but they dig a tunnel underneath it."
"A detour?" Orion frowned. "How do you detour through space?"
"Space can fold," Regulus tried, and realized how impossible it was to put into words.
"Like two cities on a map. They're far apart, but if you fold the map, they end up side by side."
Orion considered that seriously, tapping a finger lightly against his wand handle.
After a long moment, he still shook his head. "I can't picture it. But if you can sense it, remember the feeling. Magical perception is your gift. It'll be a strong advantage."
Regulus nodded, knowing Orion struggled with abstractions.
But Regulus's mind was already elsewhere.
If he could learn to fold space like that…
He didn't even have to master it completely. House-elf magic might be tied to their species. Wizards might never replicate it in full.
But if he understood the principle, even if he could only imitate a tiny fraction of it…
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Stone plzzzzz :)