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In July of 1972, Sirius Black finished his first year at Hogwarts and returned to Number 12, Grimmauld Place.
He had changed a great deal.
Not only had he grown his hair long, but he also now wore Muggle jeans and T shirts he had picked up from James Potter, so much so that there was almost nothing left of the image a pure blood wizard was supposed to have.
"James says Quidditch should allow a few harmless prank spells," he said casually over dinner. "It would make things more fun."
Walburga set down her knife and fork. "James? That Potter boy? I recall their bloodline being reasonably pure, but their tasteā¦"
"Excellent taste," Sirius interrupted. "At least people in that family speak like human beings, instead of droning on all day about glory, bloodlines, and duty."
The air at the table froze in an instant.
Regulus quietly cut the roasted fish on his plate, all the while watching Sirius out of the corner of his eye.
There was something bright in Sirius's eyes, a light that had never existed at Grimmauld Place before; it might have been freedom.
Regulus knew it; Sirius was about to leave this house!
"And there's Remus," Sirius went on, as if he had not noticed his mother's expression at all. "He's basically a walking library, knows every bit of magical history the professors never bother to teach. Peter's a bit timid, sure, but he's a good guyā¦"
"Enough!" Walburga's voice was icy. "I have no interest in listening to trivial gossip about those friends of yours. Where is your Hogwarts report?"
"Upstairs. I passed everything. Outstanding in Flying Class, Exceeds Expectations in Defense Against the Dark Arts." Sirius shrugged, utterly unconcerned by her tone. "That's plenty."
"Plenty?" Walburga stood up, furious now. "The heir of the House of Black should excel in every subject! Should become a prefect! Shouldā!"
"I'm not the heir," Sirius rose as well, meeting her head-on. "Regulus is. You chose him a long time ago, didn't you?"
He looked at his little brother. Regulus met his gaze and said nothing.
"Look at him," Sirius said, pointing at Regulus. "Sitting perfectly straight, cutting fish like he's conducting a Potions experiment. He's already prepared to become the kind of Black you want. So just let me go, all right?"
He turned and walked out of the dining room. Walburga moved to follow him, but Orion pressed a hand down on hers.
"Let him go," Orion said quietly. "Some words, once spoken, can never be taken back."
He had foreseen this day years ago. Regulus had played no small part in bringing it about, and yet he had never once tried to stop it.
Regulus finished his meal in silence, then went upstairs. At the turn of the staircase, he ran into Sirius.
Sirius was leaning against the wall, both hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, staring out at the dimly lit street beyond the window, quiet and unreadable.
"Do you think I went too far?" Sirius asked, without turning around.
"I think you're happy," Regulus said, giving a slight shake of his head.
Sirius paused, then turned to look at him.
"At Hogwarts, I am happy," Sirius admitted. "The Gryffindor Tower is always noisy, always someone doing something stupid, always someone laughing. It's nothing like this placeā¦"
He glanced around the shadowed corridor, the darkness pressing in from every side.
"It's like a beautifully decorated tomb."
"Tombs have treasures too," Regulus said quietly, the reminder carefully veiled. "If you know how to look for them."
All tragedies were born of insufficient power, and Sirius had never once thought about seeking powerā¦ not until death itself stood before him.
"I don't want treasures buried in a tomb," Sirius shook his head. "I want a life under the sun, even if it doesn't last long."
He looked at his brother. "You know what's funniest? James's parents, the Pottersāthey're pure-bloods too, but they don't obsess over bloodlines all day long.
They care about whether James is happy, whether he's made friends, whether he's learning things he actually lovesā¦ not whether he can uphold some ridiculous family honor."
Regulus fell silent. He knew it was true. Although the Potter family was pure blood, they had always been portrayed as open minded, sensible, and deeply human in the books.
"So you have a home now," Regulus said softly, a trace of emotion slipping through despite himself.
Sirius's expression gentled. "Yeah. I have a home."
Then his face hardened again. "But you wouldn't understand. You've already chose this place."
He turned and walked back to his room. The door closed behind him with a soft, final click.
Regulus stood alone in the corridor, listening to Walburga's muffled complaints drifting up from downstairs, her voice sharp as it spilled toward Orion.
I understandā¦ but I won't make the same choice. Your home is Gryffindor, it's the Potter family. But how long can that protect you? And when the time comes, will you be able to protect them?
When Voldemort truly rises, when war begins, when your Muggle-born friends become targets, of course you will choose to resist.
But it's a pity. You have no power; you won't be able to protect anything.
He shook his head, pushing the thoughts aside, then turned and returned to his room.
By late July, Orion had set up a simple dueling ground in the backyard to test Regulus's practical combat ability.
"Hogwarts isn't just a school," he said calmly. "There is competition there, conflict, struggles that happen in the shadows. You need to know how to protect yourself."
"Rules: use only non-injurious spells. Now begin!"
Orion showed no restraint just because his opponent was an eleven-year-old child. He raised his wand, and the first silent Expelliarmus shot out fast and precise, aimed straight at Regulus's wrist.
Regulus didn't dodge, nor did he have a wand. He simply lifted his left hand and opened his palm.
The red spell collided with an invisible barrier half a meter in front of him, bursting into a spray of silver sparks.
A silent, wandless Shield Charm!
Orion's eyebrows lifted. He continued his attackāImpedimenta,Locomotor Mortis, Petrificus Totalus. Spells came in from different angles, faster and faster, the rhythm tightening with every second.
Regulus still did not move. He stood exactly where he was, arms hanging naturally at his sides, only his fingers adjusting slightly now and then. Every spell was intercepted at the instant it was about to land. Some were deflected, some dissipated, and some were absorbed entirely.
He never once cast a full body Shield Charm. That consumed too much magic and could be broken under sustained pressure.
Instead, he continuously released multiple miniature Shield Charms, forming them instantly only where needed, letting them vanish the moment their task was complete.
Thirty seconds later, Orion stopped.
"You're using your consciousness to directly control magic," he said, unmistakable astonishment in his voice. "You're skipping the casting process entirely."
The calm, steady tone he always maintained wavered despite himself. Even among elite Aurors, very few could manage something like this.
And his second son, only eleven years old, was already doing it with ease.
"Yes." Regulus nodded, acknowledging it. "Without incantations or gestures as intermediaries, the response is faster, and the consumption is lower."
"Who taught you?"
"I figured it out myself," Regulus said. In truth, it was a byproduct of magical circulation and guided control.
Orion fell silent for a long time. He looked at his son, his expression layered with surprise, pride, and a faint trace of worry.
At last, he spoke. "You are very exceptional, Regulus. Beyond what I expected."
"Thank you," Regulus said, lowering his head slightly.
Orion stepped closer and rested a hand on his shoulder. "You will accomplish extraordinary things. But at Hogwarts, you only need to be an excellent student. You do not need to appear unusual or draw attention. Do you understand?"
"I understand," Regulus nodded. "I will control how much I reveal."
After the assessment ended, Orion led him to the deepest part of the family vault, into an even more concealed inheritance chamber. Inside, there were only a few black wooden shelves, standing silently in the shadows.
Orion took out three items.
The first was a family ring; it was made of silver, its surface engraved with the Black family crest. It was not the true ring of the head of the house, but a replica.
"It carries no authority of the head of the house," Orion said as he handed it to Regulus. "But it can sense the family's protective magic. If you are wearing it and another member of the House of Black is in mortal danger, the ring will heat up. The higher the temperature, the greater the danger."
Regulus accepted the ring, fully understanding what it represented.
Though it granted no authority, it was still a symbol associated with the head of the house, and with that symbol came obligation and responsibility.
That responsibility was Sirius!
The second item was a magical notebook. Its cover was made of some kind of black leather, warm to the touch. There was no lock; only those of Black blood could open it.
"Made using ancestral blood and secret arts," Orion said. "Anything written inside will be automatically encrypted. Only the writer can fully decipher it; to anyone else, it will appear as chaotic symbols. If someone attempts to force it open, the contents will destroy themselves."
It was tacit permission. Orion knew Regulus would study dangerous things sooner or later, and rather than interfere or forbid it, he chose to give his son a safer, more controlled way to record what he found.
The third item was a meteorite amulet. A simple silver ornament, with a small piece of dark gray stone set at its center, its surface marked by the texture of a fusion crust.
"One of our ancestors brought this back from the north of Europe," Orion said. "It is said to have fallen from the sky. Hundreds of years have passed, and no one has ever figured out what magical effect it has, except that it never gathers dust and always stays at this temperature."
Regulus took the amulet. The stone felt smooth and faintly warm, as though something alive was flowing quietly within it.
"I think it suits you," Orion said. "Because the direction your eyes are turned toward is not the same as ours."
At last, his father placed a hand on his shoulder once more. "Hogwarts is a small world. But you must remember this: Beyond it, there are other worlds still."
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[CHAPTER END]