The first to notice Regulus was Remus Lupin.
Almost instantly, Lupin sensed something dangerous. He turned and spotted Regulus standing quietly at the far end of the corridor. His expression shifted, and he immediately jabbed James in the side with his elbow to stop the nonstop chatter.
Regulus raised an eyebrow slightly. A beast's intuition?
James followed Lupin's gaze. The grin froze on his face. By reflex, he tightened his grip on his wand, a flicker of alarm flashing through his eyes along with a forced show of hostility.
Peter was even worse. He practically jumped behind Lupin, using him as a shield.
Sirius looked over as well.
When the two pairs of gray eyes met, the careless, mocking smile on Sirius's face slowly faded.
The brothers stood a dozen feet apart, staring at each other in silence amid the corridor's lingering malice and laughter.
Sirius's thoughts drifted.
He remembered James storming off earlier, swearing to get even for him and teach Regulus a lesson, only to return later looking as if his soul had been wrung dry.
He remembered Lupin's low, shaken description of that fight.
He remembered their childhood too. A quiet little brother who always stayed close to their mother, yet somehow managed to do things Sirius had to struggle desperately to achieve.
And since starting at Hogwarts, he kept seeing Regulus everywhere. In the library. In the corridors. On the way to class. Always alone, arms full of thick books, moving at a brisk pace.
He seemed to be studying all the time. Or heading off to study.
The thought surfaced without warning.
It was nothing like his life, or James's. Quidditch, pranks, sneaking around the castle in search of secrets. A completely different world.
He used to think Regulus's way of living was boring and rigid. Proof of being shackled by the family.
But now, after what had happened to James, and with the pressure Regulus radiated just by standing there, Sirius found himself thinking differently.
Had the gap between them really grown this wide without him noticing?
Not just a suffocating difference in magical strength, but a gap in choices. In direction. In how much each of them had invested in their own path.
"Enjoyed the show enough?" Sirius asked. His voice sounded rougher than usual, though it still carried that familiar, stubborn refusal to back down.
He did not meet Regulus's eyes. Instead, his gaze slid to the stone wall beside them.
Only then did Regulus start walking forward.
He did not look at James. He did not look at Snape, or anyone else. He stopped between the two sides and fixed his eyes on Sirius.
"Picking on someone who's alone is how you prove your courage and find your fun?" Regulus's voice was calm. "If that's the case, then Gryffindor bravery is cheaper than I thought."
James wanted to snap back, but the memory of the last lesson, and Regulus's warning, made the words stick in his throat.
Not yet, he thought. I'm not ready yet.
Regulus kept his gaze on Sirius, his tone flat and restrained. "Wasting your time and energy on this does you no good.
This world won't leave much room for jokes and games for very long.
If you don't want to wake up one day unable to even protect yourself, or the people you care about, then you should start thinking seriously now about what you want to use your magic for.
And how to make it truly useful."
Sirius did not hear condescension in Regulus's words. It sounded more like a reminder grounded in fact. There was even something complicated beneath it that he could not quite name.
A warning given because of blood.
Sirius's heart clenched.
He wanted to shout back. To say he did not need lectures from a Slytherin, from this traitor of a brother. To say he lived free and happy, and that he would protect the people who mattered to him in his own way.
But the things Regulus mentioned crashed into his overheated mind like chunks of ice, cutting through rebellion and loyalty alike.
He thought of the tension at home, growing heavier by the day. Of the vague hints in his parents' letters. Of Bellatrix, slipping further and further into madness.
Maybe Regulus was right.
That thought only made him more irritated, more defiant.
"My business is none of yours," Sirius shot back stiffly. Then he turned to James and the others. "Let's go. This is pointless."
James looked like he wanted to argue, but Lupin gently tugged his sleeve.
They followed Sirius, hurrying out of the corridor. Their retreat looked rushed.
Once the Marauders were gone, only Regulus and a thoroughly bedraggled Snape remained.
Snape quickly cast a cleaning charm to remove the filth from his robes. He pushed his damp hair back into some semblance of order, his expression still dark.
When he looked at Regulus, his eyes were full of wariness and suspicion, along with a trace of humiliation at being seen like this.
"I don't need your help, Black," Snape rasped, his voice thick with resistance. "I don't need handouts from some pure-blood heir."
Regulus was not surprised by the reaction.
Severus Snape was brilliant. His talent for potions and dark magic was extraordinary, but he was also painfully sensitive and deeply insecure, his pride and resentment twisted by his background and experiences.
He craved power. He craved recognition. He wanted desperately to be accepted by the pure-blood circle, yet instinctively distrusted and guarded himself against anyone from its core.
In Regulus's eyes, Snape was a highly valuable potential collaborator. One could even call him a prime asset.
A future potions master. Profound understanding of dark magic. Careful, patient, and capable of enduring in silence.
Handled correctly, his value far exceeded even Cuthbert's or Hermes's.
"Handouts?" Regulus repeated, his tone unchanged. "Do you think I stood here to enjoy your embarrassment, or to savor the feeling of saving you?"
Snape pressed his lips together. He said nothing, but his eyes made his answer clear.
"You're wrong," Regulus said. "I happened to be passing by, and they were in my way. As for you…"
He looked Snape up and down. "Your talent in potions is something even Professor Slughorn praises openly.
And your understanding of Defense Against the Dark Arts, or rather, of certain specialized branches of magic, already surpasses that of your peers. What you possess is worth far more than the bloodlines some people love to boast about."
Snape's body tensed. Regulus's words struck directly at the most conflicted part of his heart. He despised pure-blood arrogance, yet yearned for his abilities to be acknowledged by that very circle.
"But," Regulus continued, changing direction, "if you keep wasting your energy on childish clashes with Potter and the rest, or remain satisfied with nothing beyond school textbooks, you'll never stop being on the receiving end. Your talent will rot unused.
Real power cannot be gained from the public shelves of the Hogwarts library, nor from piecing together scattered dark magic notes on your own."
Shock flickered through Snape's eyes, followed by even deeper suspicion. "What… are you saying?"
"It's simple," Regulus stepped closer, lowering his voice so only the two of them could hear. "Accepting help isn't shameful, Snape.
No one can rely on themselves alone, especially when you're trying to obtain knowledge and power that certain people keep tightly controlled.
I can offer access. Opportunities to read books you might never touch otherwise. Or limited exchanges in certain fields.
In return, I may need your insights in potions, or in some less conventional areas of magical research."
The terms Regulus offered were vague, but dangerously tempting.
"You can take your time," Regulus said. He did not elaborate further. He turned and left.
He knew that pushing someone as proud and suspicious as Snape too hard would only backfire.
Regulus disappeared around the corner, leaving Snape standing alone in the corridor, his thoughts in turmoil.
Regulus Black's words echoed in his mind like a curse.
The humiliation was still there, but the impact of what had been said was stronger.
Black had seen his talent. He might even know about the dark magic Snape was studying in secret.
The opportunity he offered… was it real, or a trap?
Was he trying to recruit him?
Or simply exploit his skill in potions?
Yet one thing was undeniable. Black was right.
What had tangling with Potter and the others ever brought him, aside from wasted time and humiliation?
What the school taught was nowhere near enough. Not enough to gain real power. Not enough to escape his current situation.
Not enough to be worthy of… Lily.