July 1972.
Sirius Black finished his first year at Hogwarts and returned to 12 Grimmauld Place.
He had changed a lot.
Not only had he grown his hair long, but he also wore Muggle jeans and T-shirts he had learned about from James Potter, looking nothing like a pure-blood wizard should.
"James says Quidditch should allow some harmless prank spells to add interest," he mentioned casually at dinner.
Walburga put down her knife and fork. "James? That Potter boy? I recall their bloodline is pure enough, but their taste..."
"His taste is fine," Sirius interrupted. "At least his family speaks human language, instead of chanting about glory, blood, and duty all day long."
The air at the table suddenly solidified.
Regulus quietly cut the grilled fish on his plate while observing Sirius.
There was something bright in Sirius's eyes, a light that had never appeared in Grimmauld Place before. Perhaps it was freedom.
He knew Sirius was going to leave this home soon.
"And Remus," Sirius continued, as if he hadn't noticed his mother's expression. "He's practically a living library. He knows all the details of magical history that the teachers didn't cover. Peter is a bit timid, but he's a good person..."
"Enough!" Walburga's voice was icy. "I do not want to hear about the trivialities of your friends. Where is your report card from Hogwarts?"
"Upstairs. Passed all subjects. Outstanding in Flying, Exceeds Expectations in Defense Against the Dark Arts." Sirius shrugged, indifferent to his mother's attitude. "Good enough."
"Good enough?" Walburga stood up, provoked. "An heir to the House of Black should have 'Outstanding' in all subjects! Should become a prefect! Should-"
"I am not the heir," Sirius stood up as well, confronting his mother head-on. "Regulus is. You've already chosen him, haven't you?"
He looked at his brother. Regulus met his gaze but said nothing.
"Look at him," Sirius pointed at Regulus. "Sitting straight, cutting fish like he's conducting a potions experiment. He's already prepared to be the kind of Black you want. So let me go, alright?"
He turned and left the dining room. Walburga wanted to chase after him, but Orion held her hand down.
"Let him go," Orion said. "Some words, once spoken, cannot be taken back."
He had anticipated this day years ago. Regulus had contributed much to this outcome, but Orion had never stopped it.
Regulus finished his dinner and went upstairs. He met Sirius at the corner of the staircase. Sirius was leaning against the wall, hands in his jeans pockets, looking out at the dim street.
"You think I'm too much?" Sirius didn't look back.
"I think you are happy," Regulus shook his head gently.
Sirius paused, then turned to look at him.
"At Hogwarts, I am happy," Sirius admitted. "Gryffindor Tower is always noisy, someone is always doing something stupid, someone is always laughing. Unlike here,"
He looked around the dim corridor. "Like a magnificent tomb."
"There are treasures in tombs too," Regulus hinted obscurely. "If you know how to look."
All tragedies stem from insufficient power, and Sirius never thought to seek power until his death.
"I don't want treasures from a tomb," Sirius shook his head. "I want a life in the sunlight, even if it's brief."
He looked at his brother. "You know what the funniest thing is? James's parents, the Potters, they are pure-bloods too. But they don't hang 'bloodline' on their lips all day.
"They care about whether James is happy, if he's made friends, if he's learning things he's interested in, not whether he can maintain family glory."
Regulus was silent. He knew this was true. Although the Potters were pure-bloods, in the original story, they had always appeared open-minded and normal.
"So, you have a home now," Regulus said with a touch of emotion.
Sirius's expression softened slightly. "Yes, I have a home."
Then his face hardened again. "But you wouldn't understand. You've already chosen this place."
He walked back to his room, the door closing softly.
Regulus stood in the corridor, listening to Walburga's faint complaints to Orion coming from downstairs.
I understand, but I won't make that choice. Your home is Gryffindor, the Potters. But how long can that protect you? And can you protect your home?
When Voldemort truly rises, when the war begins, when your Muggle-born friends become targets, of course you will choose to resist.
Unfortunately, you have no power. You can protect nothing.
He shook his head, stopped thinking about it, and returned to his room.
Late July. Orion set up a simple dueling ground in the backyard to test Regulus's combat abilities.
"Hogwarts is not just a school," he said. "There is competition, conflict, and secret struggles. You need to know how to protect yourself."
"Rules: non-lethal spells only. Begin."
Orion didn't go easy just because his opponent was an eleven-year-old child. He raised his wand, and the first silent Disarming Charm was fast and accurate, shooting straight for Regulus's wrist.
Regulus didn't dodge, nor did he use a wand. He simply raised his left hand and opened his palm.
The red spell hit an invisible barrier half a meter away from him, splashing into silver sparks.
A silent, wandless Shield Charm.
Orion raised an eyebrow. He continued his attack. Impedimenta, Locomotor Mortis, Petrificus Totalus, spells flew from different angles, the frequency gradually increasing.
Regulus remained still. He stood in place, hands hanging naturally, only occasionally adjusting the angle of his fingers. Every spell was intercepted with precision just before impact, some deflected, some dissipated, some absorbed.
He didn't even use a single Shield Charm to cover his whole body, that would consume too much energy and be easily broken by continuous attacks.
Instead, he cast multiple micro-Shield Charms in succession, generating them instantly where needed and vanishing them instantly after their mission was complete.
Thirty seconds later, Orion stopped.
"You are using your consciousness to manipulate magic directly, skipping the spellcasting process," his voice was full of astonishment.
His steady composure faltered. Such skill was rare even among elite Aurors.
And his second son, only eleven years old, could already do it with ease.
"Yes," Regulus nodded in admission. "Without spells and gestures as intermediaries, the response is faster and the consumption is lower."
"Who taught you?"
"I figured it out myself," Regulus said. This was actually a byproduct of the magical circulation technique.
Orion was silent for a long time. He looked at his son with a complex gaze, surprise, pride, and a trace of worry.
He finally said, "You are excellent, Regulus. Beyond my expectations."
"Thank you." Regulus bowed his head slightly.
Orion approached and patted his shoulder. "You will achieve extraordinary things. But at Hogwarts, you only need to be an excellent student. You do not need to appear abnormal. Understood?"
"Understood," Regulus nodded. "I will control the degree of what I show."
After the assessment, Orion took him to the deepest part of the family vault, a hidden heritage chamber containing only a few black wooden shelves.
Orion took out three items.
The first was a family ring. Made of silver, the face carved with the Black family crest. It was not the authentic ring of the family head, but a replica.
"No authority of the family head," Orion handed it to Regulus. "But it can sense the family's protective magic. If you wear it and another member of the Black family is in mortal danger, the ring will heat up. The higher the temperature, the greater the danger."
Regulus took the ring, knowing its meaning.
Though it held no authority, it was a symbol of the heir, representing duty and responsibility. And that duty was Sirius.
The second item was a magical notebook. The cover was some kind of black leather, warm to the touch. It had no lock, only Black blood could open it.
"Made with ancestor's blood and secret arts," Orion said. "What is written is automatically encrypted. Only the writer can fully decipher it. Others will only see chaotic symbols. If forcibly breached, the content will self-destruct."
This was tacit approval. Orion knew Regulus would definitely research dangerous things. He didn't stop him, he just provided a safe recording tool.
The third item was a meteorite amulet. A simple silver ornament with a small piece of dark grey stone inlaid in the center, its surface textured with fusion crust.
"This was brought back from Northern Europe by a Black ancestor. It is said to be from beyond the sky. For hundreds of years, no one has figured out its magical function, only that it never gathers dust and always maintains this temperature."
Regulus took the amulet. The stone felt smooth and slightly warm, as if life were flowing within it.
"I think it suits you," Orion said. "Because the place your eyes look toward is different from ours."
Finally, his father placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hogwarts is a small world. But remember, outside that world, there are other worlds."