That was the first thing anyone ever noticed when they were out past the hours they were meant to be tucked away in their dormitories—Hogwarts did not sleep so much as it settled. The corridors exhaled cold air through ancient stone. The torches guttered lower, shadows stretching longer, deeper, more watchful. Portraits murmured amongst themselves in half-dreaming tones. Armour shifted on their stands with the slow complaint of metal against metal.
It was the kind of night that made bad ideas feel inevitable.
“I still think,” Remus Lupin whispered, voice thin with restraint as he peered down the corridor, “that this is an exceptionally poor plan.”
Sirius Black did not even look back at him.
“That’s because you’re boring,” he murmured, crouched low by the wall as he worked at something suspiciously complex with his wand. His hair kept falling into his eyes; he kept blowing it out of his face in quick, impatient bursts. “And also because you lack vision.”
“I have vision,” Remus said, affronted. “I just use it to avoid detentions.”
James Potter, sprawled flat on his stomach beside Sirius, grinned lazily. “Detention builds character.”
“You already have too much character,” Remus shot back.
Peter Pettigrew hovered nervously behind them, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Are you sure Filch isn’t—”
“He’s not,” Sirius and James said in perfect unison.
Peter swallowed.
“That didn’t make me feel better.”
Sirius finally leaned back on his heels, inspecting whatever he’d been fiddling with. A faint shimmer of magic clung to the floor—something subtle, something waiting.
“Right,” he said, pleased. “That’s stage one.”
Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to regret asking, but what exactly does stage one do?”
James lit up immediately. “Oh, it’s brilliant. When anyone steps here—”
“—their shoes start screaming,” Sirius finished.
There was a pause.
Remus blinked.
“I’m sorry,” he said carefully. “Their shoes—”
“Scream,” Sirius repeated, delighted.
Peter let out a strangled noise somewhere between horror and awe.
Remus stared at the floor. “Why.”
“Because,” James said, like it was obvious, “it sets the tone.”
“The tone,” Remus echoed.
“Yes,” Sirius said. “Which is followed by stage two—”
A voice cut cleanly through the corridor.
“And what, exactly, is stage two?”
Everything stopped.
Not gradually.
Not slowly.
Instantly.
Four heads turned.
Regulus Black stood at the far end of the corridor, framed in torchlight.
Prefect badge glinting.
Arms folded.
Expression flat.
He looked like he had been carved out of the same stone as the castle—sharp edges, pale lines, dark eyes that missed nothing.
Sirius froze.
“...hi,” he said weakly.
Regulus raised one eyebrow.
James scrambled upright so fast he nearly tripped over Sirius. “Regulus! Fancy seeing you here! Late night! Lovely weather for it!”
“We’re indoors,” Regulus said.
“Metaphorically,” James replied.
Peter nodded vigorously. “Very metaphorical weather.”
Remus sighed quietly into his hands.
Regulus’s gaze slid across the four of them. Took in the crouched positions. The faint shimmer of magic on the floor. Sirius’s wand still in his hand.
“You’re out after curfew,” he said.
It wasn’t a question.
“No,” Sirius said immediately.
“Yes,” Remus said at the exact same time.
Sirius whipped around. “Traitor—”
“You’re literally caught,” Remus hissed.
James stepped forward quickly, hands raised in what he clearly thought was a charming, disarming gesture. “Now, Regulus, let’s not be hasty—”
“I’m not being hasty,” Regulus said. “I’m being observant.”
Peter made a small, panicked noise.
Sirius stood up slowly, brushing off his robes like that might somehow restore dignity to the situation.
“Reggie,” he said, voice slipping instinctively into something smoother, softer, coaxing. “Come on.”
Regulus’s eyes flicked to him.
Cold.
“Don’t,” he said.
Sirius ignored that entirely and stepped closer anyway. “You’re not actually going to report us, are you?”
“Yes.”
Immediate. Flat.
James gasped like he’d been personally betrayed. “That’s brutal.”
“Rules exist,” Regulus said.
“You break rules,” Sirius said.
“I break useful rules,” Regulus replied. “This is idiocy.”
Peter made another distressed sound.
Remus, ever the realist, said, “We could just… dismantle it and go back to bed.”
Sirius rounded on him. “Absolutely not.”
Then, back to Regulus, softer again, coaxing.
“Reg,” he said, “be reasonable.”
“I am,” Regulus said.
James tried a different approach—he stepped in beside Sirius, slinging an arm casually over his shoulder like they were all old friends sharing a joke.
“Look,” he said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “we can offer you… incentives.”
Regulus stared at him.
“Incentives,” he repeated.
“Yes,” James said brightly. “Anything you want.”
There was a pause.
Regulus’s gaze slid slowly, deliberately, over all four of them again.
“You have nothing I want.”
Peter looked deeply offended by that, for some reason.
Sirius huffed. “Rude.”
Remus said, very quietly, “He’s right.”
James leaned in further, undeterred. “Come on, there must be something.”
Regulus looked unimpressed.
Sirius, desperate now, said, “I’ll do your chores for a week.”
James snapped his fingers. “I’ll stop asking Lily out.”
Remus choked.
Regulus looked faintly more interested.
“For how long?” he asked.
James hesitated.
“…a week?”
Regulus’s interest vanished.
“Useless,” he said.
Peter whispered, “We’re going to die.”
Sirius dragged a hand through his hair, frustrated. “What do you want then?”
Regulus didn’t answer immediately.
He looked at Sirius for a moment longer than necessary.
Then, with a quiet, irritated exhale, he rolled his eyes.
“Fine,” he said.
Silence.
James blinked. “Fine?”
“I won’t report you,” Regulus said, already sounding tired of his own decision. “If you stop wasting my time.”
They all stared at him.
Peter lit up like a lantern. “Really?”
“Yes.”
James whooped—quietly, but with enthusiasm.
Remus sagged with relief.
Sirius grinned.
“See?” he said, nudging James. “Told you he loved me.”
“I don’t,” Regulus said.
“Deeply, though,” Sirius continued.
Regulus looked like he was reconsidering his entire life.
James clapped his hands together. “Brilliant! Right, then—you’re coming with us.”
Regulus blinked.
“I’m what.”
“You’re coming with us,” James repeated, already grabbing his arm. “We need help.”
“I agreed not to report you,” Regulus said, resisting. “Not to participate.”
“Same thing,” Sirius said.
“It is not remotely the same thing.”
They were already dragging him.
Regulus dug his heels in for approximately three seconds before deciding it wasn’t worth the effort.
“What do you need,” he said flatly.
“A potion,” James said.
Regulus stopped walking.
“No.”
Sirius groaned. “Oh, come on—”
“I don’t do potions,” Regulus said. “I don’t go to those lessons.”
Remus frowned. “You don’t—?”
“Slughorn is insufferable,” Regulus said. “And he keeps trying to recruit me for that ridiculous club of his. He knocks on my dorm door.”
Sirius snorted. “That’s because you’re his favourite.”
“He is not my anything,” Regulus snapped. “And I am not going back.”
James looked devastated. “We need the potion.”
“We cannot do the prank without the potion,” Peter added miserably.
Remus nodded. “It’s the core mechanism.”
Sirius pointed accusingly at the universe. “This is tragic.”
There was a beat.
Then James’s face changed.
Slowly.
Brightening.
“Oh,” he said.
Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Oh no.”
“Oh, I’ve got it,” James said, grin spreading.
Remus immediately looked concerned. “That expression is never good.”
“Snape,” James said.
Silence.
Then—
Sirius lit up. “Oh, that’s evil.”
Peter looked uncertain. “He’ll say no.”
“We won’t give him the option,” Sirius said.
Remus sighed. “We are not bullying Snape into doing our work.”
“We absolutely are,” James said.
Regulus groaned. “I am not involved in this.”
“Yes you are,” Sirius said, grabbing his sleeve again.
“I am not—”
They were already moving.
The library at night was a different place.
Quieter.
Heavier.
The kind of silence that pressed in rather than settled.
They found him exactly where James had predicted.
Severus Snape sat tucked into a far corner between towering shelves, hunched over a book, candlelight flickering against his pale face. He looked up as they approached, eyes narrowing immediately.
“Black,” he said, voice like something dragged over stone.
“S’pose,” Sirius said cheerfully.
Snape’s gaze flicked across the group.
Potter.
Lupin.
Pettigrew.
Then—
It stopped.
On Regulus.
For a moment—just a moment—everything about him changed.
Then it snapped back.
“What do you want,” Snape said.
“Your talents,” James said.
“No,” Snape replied instantly.
Sirius stepped forward. “We need a potion—”
“No.”
Remus tried diplomacy. “It would be greatly appreciated—”
“No.”
Peter hovered. “Please?”
“No.”
They all started talking at once.
“You owe us—”
“I do not—”
“Just do it—”
“Absolutely not—”
“It’s simple—”
“I am not your servant—”
Voices overlapping, rising, snapping against each other in sharp, irritated bursts.
Snape stood, expression darkening.
“I am not helping you,” he said, louder now. “Find someone else to—”
“Severus.”
Everything stopped.
Regulus stepped forward.
He didn’t raise his voice.
Didn’t change his tone.
Just—
“Please.”
That was all.
Snape froze.
Completely.
It was almost visible—the moment it hit him.
His shoulders straightened.
His expression flickered.
Then—
He went red.
Very red.
He coughed, abruptly, like he’d swallowed his own spine.
“Of—of course,” he said, suddenly. “If—if you require assistance, I—yes.”
Sirius stared.
James’s jaw dropped.
Peter looked like he might faint.
Remus blinked slowly, processing.
Snape was already moving, gathering things, muttering to himself, trying to look composed and failing spectacularly.
“What potion,” he asked, too quickly.
Sirius leaned toward James. “Is he—”
“Shut up,” James whispered, eyes wide.
Regulus stepped back, expression unchanged, like he hadn’t just detonated something.
The afternoon corridors of Hogwarts were always a little loud, a little chaotic, a little unpredictable—especially when the Gryffindors had a plan.
And today?
They had the plan.
“A singing spell,” James whispered, eyes glinting with the thrill of potential disaster. “Not just any singing spell—truth-telling, emotion-pouring, soul-baring singing spell.”
Remus raised a brow. “Sounds cruel.”
Peter grinned. “Exactly.”
Sirius, slouched against the archway leading to the Charms corridor, arms crossed and boots scuffed from restless pacing, tilted his head. “It’s not cruel. It’s educational. We’ve all been dying to know what Regulus keeps locked up in that pretty little porcelain head of his. And now?”
He smirked.
“We’re gonna find out.”
They weren’t alone, obviously. Behind them, half of Gryffindor House had gathered like wolves to a scent. Lily Evans was there, arms folded and eyes sharp, clearly ready to pretend this wasn’t mean just so long as it was entertaining. Mary and Marlene were whispering excitedly beside her, passing a Skiving Snackbox back and forth like popcorn. Fabian and Gideon were leaning far too dramatically on either side of the corridor, Fabian whispering bets while Gideon scouted for teachers. Frank and Alice stood together near the back, clearly debating the morality of this whole thing and deciding they were okay with it if it meant Regulus got a bit embarrassed for once.
Because Regulus Black?
Was untouchable.
Regulus Black never flinched. Never cracked. Never stumbled.
Regulus Black walked through the world like a prince born of velvet and poison, quiet confidence stitched into every elegant line of his body.
And now, there he was.
Walking straight into their trap.
The hallway dipped in volume for half a second—half a breath—when Regulus and his little entourage appeared. The air practically shivered.
Barty Crouch Jr. sauntered ahead of him, grinning like he knew something awful and delightful. Evan Rosier, a mess of lazy curls and daydreaming eyes, was tossing an apple up and down with casual rhythm. Dorcas Meadowes—cool, deadly, with lips that always looked like they’d just finished saying something sharp—stayed close to Pandora Rosier, who was looking at the ceiling like she was communing with the ghosts of drama queens past.
And in the center of them all: Regulus.
He was dressed stupid pretty. Not the usual pristine uniform but something casual—deliberate. Tight, dark trousers tucked into laced boots. A loose jumper that hung off one shoulder in a way that felt somehow accidental and also cruelly calculated. His hair was soft, wind-mussed. His lips were pink. And in his hand—oddly enough—was a small wooden carving.
He wasn’t even looking at them. He wasn’t aware. He was frowning slightly at the carving like it held a secret only he could understand, thumb tracing the edge with reverence. The softest look any of them had ever seen on him.
“Now,” Sirius whispered.
James didn’t even need to respond. He lifted his wand, murmured the incantation, and the spell hit Regulus clean in the chest.
The change was instant.
Regulus’s eyes went wide, then… blank. Glassy. His arms dropped to his sides, the wooden carving dangling from limp fingers. His lips parted, soft and dazed, and then—
He smiled.
Just a little.
And began to sing.
“You were a substandard brother…”
Silence. The air stopped. Every single person in the hallway froze—eyes locked on Regulus, wide and stunned.
“But the only one I've had…”
Pandora turned slowly to stare at him, lips parted. Barty blinked. Evan dropped his apple. Dorcas's jaw actually dropped.
Sirius frowned. “Wait—what—?”
“I grew up hearing your scheming down the hall…”
Sirius jolted like he’d been slapped. His mouth opened, then closed.
Regulus swayed, soft on his feet, eyes still glassy, still far away.
“But when I look at this thing…”
He lifted the carving in his hand, holding it up gently, like it was a holy relic.
“It makes me wanna sing…”
“Maybe you're not so bad a brother after all…”
Everyone turned to Sirius.
His face was white. His body was stock-still. Then—
“No,” Sirius whispered. “No fucking way.”
Lily blinked. “What is that in his hand?”
“I don’t know,” Marlene said. “Looks like a wooden—duck? Dog? Dolphin?”
Mary leaned forward. “It’s ugly.”
“At my first-ever swim meet…”
Regulus kept going, voice soft, melodic, eerily clear. The smile on his lips was too real now. Not glassy—genuine. Sweet.
“You stepped on the other team's feet…”
Sirius flinched again. “Oh my God.”
Remus turned slowly. “You remember that?”
“At my ballet recital, you clapped louder than you should…”
Peter snorted. “Sirius. You went to a ballet recital?”
“I was six! Mum said I had to. He wore little pink shoes—he was cute! I didn’t know he remembered that—I didn’t remember that—”
“But when you taught me how to drive the bike…”
Sirius choked. “No. No, no, no—”
“We actually made it home alive…”
Barty’s jaw dropped. “Wait. He let you touch his bike?”
Pandora whispered, “He’s never even looked at me that soft.”
“I guess it's possible…”
“Not every part of you isn't good…”
A horrible, keening noise escaped Sirius’s throat.
“Is he crying?” Mary asked.
“Sobbing,” Remus confirmed.
Sirius had gone red in the face, mouth trembling. “That was—that was my fault! I forgot—I forgot all of this—”
“I know at times I would cringe…”
“Like when you wore all that fringe…”
Fabian wheezed. “You did wear that fringe, oh my god—”
Gideon elbowed him. “Shut up, he’s having a breakdown.”
“And when you went out of your way…”
“To catch that foul ball…”
Sirius was shaking now. “It knocked my tooth out. He cried more than I did.”
“But this piece of wood in my hand…”
Regulus’s fingers tightened around it. Sirius’s breath caught.
“Makes me finally understand…”
Sirius stared at the carving.
The memory hit him like a tidal wave.
He’d carved it. Sloppy, uneven, when he was five. Regulus had been four. Their parents had thrown out Reggie’s little stuffed wolf, said it was childish, said he was too attached. Regulus had sobbed for hours. So Sirius carved him a replacement—something else to hold. It was hideous. Unrecognizable. But Regulus had clutched it to his chest like treasure.
Sirius had forgotten.
He had blocked out so much. The screaming. The fights. The punishments. In trying to erase his parents—
He’d erased Regulus too.
“Maybe you're not so bad a brother…”
Sirius stepped forward, shaking. His voice was hoarse.
“Reggie…”
“Not so bad a brother after all…”
And with that final line, Regulus’s eyes fluttered, glassy sheen fading. He blinked. Looked around.
And blinked again at the sea of frozen faces staring back.
“…What.”
Then he saw Sirius.
And Sirius, cheeks wet, throat clogged, whispered—
“That was the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
The hallway erupted.
Pandora screamed. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT.”
Barty had dropped to his knees, hands over his face. “Regulus cares? This changes everything—”
Evan had picked up the apple again and was throwing it at the ceiling in pure, stunned hysteria.
Dorcas was staring at Regulus like he’d sprouted wings.
Lily covered her mouth with both hands. “I think I just saw a soul.”
Mary was sobbing. Marlene was recording. Fabian and Gideon were wailing dramatically into each other’s arms.
And Sirius?
Sirius had walked straight to his brother and pulled him into a bone-breaking hug.
Regulus froze in his arms.
“I’m sorry,” Sirius whispered. “I forgot. I forgot all of it. I forgot you. I’m so sorry.”
Regulus didn’t say anything for a long moment.
Then he lifted the wooden carving and tucked it into Sirius’s hand.
“Don’t forget again.”
Sirius nodded, trembling.
Everyone else just watched in stunned silence.
“Well,” Frank said finally. “That backfired.”
Alice sniffled. “That was so sweet.”
James cleared his throat. “Okay, technically—it worked.”
Remus clapped him on the shoulder. “You tried to embarrass him and ended up giving Sirius emotional closure.”
Peter was sobbing. “That was so beautiful—”
Sirius held the carving tight to his chest, arms wrapped around his brother.
Regulus stayed silent, but he didn’t pull away.
Not even a little.
Sirius was sobbing.
Not just the sniffly, embarrassed kind of crying that you could pretend was from laughter or a breeze—no, no. This was real, full-body, trembling, choking, nose-running, feral sobbing. And it was happening in the middle of a Hogwarts corridor.
With an audience.
Sirius didn’t care.
He was curled around his little brother like a starved animal clinging to warmth, burying his face in Regulus’s soft hair, inhaling deep like he could memorize his baby brother all over again through scent alone.
“You’re my baby,” Sirius whispered, voice breaking. “My baby. My baby brother. My perfect little baby brother. I forgot—I forgot so much—”
Regulus made a startled noise. “Sirius, stop—”
“No! No, you don’t get it, Reg.” Sirius pulled him even closer, arms a vice grip, completely oblivious to the fact that Regulus’s feet were barely touching the ground anymore. “I used to do everything for you. I never let you do your own shoelaces—I did them, every morning. I’d carry you everywhere—you hated walking. You were so little. You’re still little.”
“Put me down—”
“You couldn’t do anything yourself, and I liked that. You were too cute. I’d do your homework, and make your bed, and brush your hair, and you’d just sit there babbling about clouds or frogs or whatever you were obsessed with that week—”
“I was four!”
“Exactly! Four!” Sirius hiccupped through a sob. “And everyone in primary school thought I was the cool one, but they didn’t know—I bragged about you all the time. I made my friends come watch you do your little dance routines during lunch—”
Regulus made a sound like a dying kettle.
“—you’d be there in the playground, spinning in circles and giggling and stumbling, and they’d all have to clap or I’d punch them—I made them clap, Reg!”
“Oh my God,” Regulus moaned, covering his face. “Stop talking—”
“You wore my clothes all the time—do you remember? I'd roll up the sleeves and tie a belt around you and pretend you were a prince, and you'd just pose dramatically until you fell over!”
“I hate you.”
“And you were scared of birds!” Sirius cried. “Pigeons made you scream! You'd cry and run and grab my legs if you saw one—”
Regulus flinched. Visibly.
“Still do,” he muttered, with the weight of someone who had survived multiple pigeon-related traumas. “They’re fucking evil.”
Sirius gasped, pulling back like he was staring at a miracle. “You still do ballet.”
“NO.”
“You do!”
“I don’t—”
Sirius raised a single finger. “You’re blushing.”
“I’m cold!”
“You’re pink and twitchy, which means you’re lying—*oh my god, you do ballet, don’t you? Still? Like, actual ballet? Pointe shoes and everything?”
Regulus looked like he wanted to melt through the floor. “…I’m in an academy.”
Sirius shrieked.
“I KNEW IT!”
“I’m in the highest grade now, shut up!”
“Danseur noble?”
“Ballerino, technically—”
“You're sixteen! That means you're—” Sirius’s eyes widened in horror as a new thought slammed into him. “That means you’re pretty.”
Regulus blinked. “...Thanks?”
“No, no, no, no.” Sirius shook his head violently. “Pretty means others think that too. Others with hands. Others with ulterior motives.”
He scooped Regulus up bridal-style like a fireman rescuing a damsel and whirled on the crowd, voice booming.
“NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO LOOK AT HIM. BACK OFF.”
“I—Sirius—put me DOWN—!”
Sirius tucked Regulus into his chest like he was shielding the crown jewels.
“I SAID BACK OFF.”
The hallway exploded.
Pandora Rosier stepped forward first, head tilted, smirking like a cat. “Actually,” she purred, “Regulus is mine, so if you could return my boyfriend, that’d be great.”
Sirius’s entire face twisted. “What?!”
Evan Rosier lazily threw an arm around Pandora’s shoulder. “Hate to break it to you, Pads, but Reg’s been with me for months. I do all the pirouette-watching now.”
“Lies,” Barty hissed, stepping forward like a dramatic opera villain. “Regulus and I are soulmates. Star-crossed. You didn’t notice the bracelet he’s wearing, I made it. He only moans my name.”
“I beg your fucking pardon?” Sirius barked.
Dorcas Meadowes stepped out with a grin that could cut glass. “Sorry, boys. He and I have been sneaking into the Astronomy Tower for study sessions.”
Sirius's brain short-circuited.
“WHAT STUDY SESSIONS?!”
“He’s mine,” all four of them said at once.
Sirius looked at Regulus, horrified. Regulus, beet-red and clinging to Sirius’s jacket now, shook his head frantically.
“I’m single, you morons—”
But it was too late.
The chaos had begun.
Fabian Prewett stepped forward, hand over his heart. “Actually, Reg and I eloped last weekend. It was a tasteful ceremony. Evan cried.”
“Only because I planned it,” Gideon snapped, shoving his twin. “You bastard, he’s mine! I asked him to the Yule Ball in fourth year!”
Peter popped up next to them, looking smug as hell. “Funny. Because he spends every Saturday in my bed—playing Wizard’s Chess, of course.”
“Oh my God,” Regulus said weakly.
Lily sauntered forward, arms crossed. “I thought we weren’t going public yet, darling,” she said sweetly.
James gasped. “Lils?!”
“Oh, you knew, Potter,” she smirked.
“I thought it was just a phase!”
Marlene appeared beside them, hair bouncing as she grinned. “We’re in an open thing,” she chirped. “Don’t be jealous, Potter.”
Remus pushed forward last, smirking like a smug bastard. “You’re all wrong. Regulus is obviously mine. He actually likes books.”
Sirius screamed.
Frank and Alice were collapsed against the wall, howling.
Mary was on the floor, crying with laughter.
“EVERYONE SHUT UP!” Sirius howled, still holding Regulus, who was now trying to disappear inside Sirius’s coat. “SOMEONE TELL ME WHO THE REAL ONE IS!”
They all answered at once.
“ME!”
“IT’S ME!”
“HE ONLY KISSES ME THAT WAY!”
“HE CALLS ME KITTEN!”
Sirius spun in place like a paranoid whirlwind, absolutely unhinged. “WHICH ONE IS IT?! WHICH ONE DO I MURDER FIRST?!”
Regulus, defeated, buried his face into his brother’s chest.
“I hate all of you,” he muttered.
Sirius clutched him tighter. “Don’t worry, baby brother. I’ll kill them all for you.”
“I’m not dating any of them—”
“Exactly! I’ll keep it that way.”
The hallway was still a warzone of shrieking laughter, mock fights, declarations of love, and chaotic howling.
Sirius, wild-eyed and trembling, marched off with Regulus still in his arms like a knight protecting the royal heir.
