How to Break a School in 37 Seconds
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The idea came to Sirius Black on a lazy Saturday morning when the Gryffindor common room was too quiet for comfort, and his boredom had reached war-crime levels of danger.
“He's always so smug,” Sirius muttered, lying upside down on a battered red armchair, his legs dangling over one armrest. “Regulus. Like he’s some untouchable little prince.”
“You mean,” James said dryly from across the room, “like how you act literally every day?”
“I’m charming,” Sirius corrected. “He’s—insufferable.”
“Also charming,” Peter offered with a shrug.
“No!” Sirius sat up, nearly flinging himself onto the floor. “No, you don’t get it. He’s… He’s a Slytherin with swagger. And people like it. He says two words and Rosier’s clapping like a seal and Barty looks like he’s about to propose marriage.”
“Sounds like you’re jealous,” Remus said behind his book.
Sirius whipped around. “I am not jealous of Regulus.”
Remus didn’t look up. “Mmm.”
“What if we spelled him?” Sirius said suddenly, dark eyes lighting up with wicked delight. “What if we—”
“Absolutely not,” Lily said, walking past them with a cup of tea.
“You didn’t even hear the plan!”
“I don’t have to. If it starts with ‘what if we spelled him,’ the answer is no.”
James grinned. “I’m listening.”
“Thank you,” Sirius said, triumphant. “Okay, there’s this charm—kind of dodgy, old dueling magic. If it lands, it makes you sing your deepest thoughts.”
“I don’t like where this is going,” Alice muttered.
“Oh, come on!” Sirius stood. “Imagine—Regulus Black, poster boy for stoic repression, pouring his little heart out in a power ballad in front of the entire corridor?”
“Or,” Mary suggested, “you accidentally trigger a suppressed trauma and he has a breakdown.”
“God, you sound like Remus.”
“Thank you.”
James clapped his hands. “No, I’m with Pads. Let’s do it. It'll be harmless! And hilarious.”
Remus sighed, shutting his book. “Fine. But if this goes badly, I’m blaming all of you.”
It was just after lunch when they spotted him.
The main corridor outside the Great Hall was a zoo. Hufflepuffs leaned against the bannisters gossiping. A Ravenclaw study group had claimed the stone bench near the statue of the Fanged Friar. And right in the middle of it all—like the eye of a very fashionable hurricane—Regulus Black sat on the edge of a fountain, legs crossed, surrounded by his usual entourage of menace and murder:
Barty Crouch Jr. was mid-rant, hands flailing; Evan Rosier looked half-asleep with a sugar quill in his mouth. Pandora was painting her nails with some iridescent ink, and Dorcas leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, chewing her lip ring.
“Target acquired,” Sirius murmured.
“I’m not a part of this,” Lily warned.
“You’re all idiots,” Marlene added cheerfully.
Frank nodded solemnly. “We're going to get expelled.”
James raised his wand behind a nearby pillar. “Showtime.”
The spell arced through the air like a whisper of lightning—blue and humming and so subtle it barely caught the eye.
It struck Regulus square in the shoulder.
He blinked.
His body went limp.
Then he sat up, spine straight, eyes glazed like frosted glass. His head tilted slowly. His lips parted.
Barty was the first to notice.
“Reg?” he said cautiously.
Regulus didn’t answer. Instead, he stood. Fluidly. Gracefully.
Evan squinted. “...What the fuck is happening.”
Then Regulus stepped up onto the edge of the fountain.
And sang:
“Look at my ass, look at my thighs, I'm catnip to the guys.”
Pandora’s mouth dropped open.
“They chase my tail, they drool and pant— Wanna touch this, but they can't.”
The hallway exploded.
A chorus of gasps and startled laughter erupted from every direction. Fabian dropped his quill. Gideon screamed, “OH MY GOD.”
Sirius stood frozen, wand still lifted, staring in abject horror.
“What the fuck,” whispered Peter.
Regulus strutted. Like a catwalk model possessed. Like sin in motion. Like he knew.
“All the boys wanna come and play, Snap my fingers and they obey.”
A group of fourth-year Slytherins shrieked in delighted shock.
“Why do they follow me 'round all day? Watch me while I walk away.”
He spun, winked, and pointed directly at Frank Longbottom, who made a sound like a dying kettle.
“I bend and snap!”
Thud. That was the sound of Remus Lupin’s book hitting the floor.
“Feel how hot it’s getting, Bend and snap!”
He bent.
He snapped.
Half the corridor fainted.
“Jesus Christ,” muttered Alice, fanning herself with a textbook.
“Then when you got ‘em sweating, Spring the trap, They cheer and clap—”
A full round of applause actually broke out from the Quidditch team table nearby. Someone wolf-whistled.
“No tight end can defend, Against the bend and snap!”
“Are you taking notes?” Pandora shouted at Dorcas, who looked deranged.
“I am now!”
Regulus leapt down onto the bench, walking along it like a cat on a fence.
“Girl, if you wanna make the team, Fake some self-esteem.”
He paused to ruffle Marlene’s hair and she squealed like it was the Beatles in 1963.
“The more you jump around and scream, The sexier you seem!”
He smirked at Sirius as he sang that one, specifically. Sirius turned the color of a strawberry and nearly choked.
“Bend and snap! I bet right now you’re sweating!”
Remus: sweating.
James: sweating.
Sirius: internally combusting.
“Spring the trap, They cheer and clap—”
And cheer and clap they did. Some guy from Hufflepuff actually climbed onto a windowsill to get a better view.
“So depend on your friend, Called the bend—”
Regulus bent at the waist again, snapped back up so violently his hair flew, and screamed:
“It's not the time to overthink, Just try it once, he'll buy you a drink!”
“BEEEEEEEND—” “AND SNAP!”
Every male-presenting student in a ten-meter radius:
“DAAAAMN!”
Regulus turned, smirking over his shoulder like the devil himself.
“Like I’m freaking—”
“Wicked stunning!” a crowd yelled back without even being prompted.
He reached out, fake-clutching his heart like a damsel:
“Will you bake me cake and pie?”
“YES!”
“And pay for stuff I buy?”
“YES!!”
“And hold me when I cry?”
“YESSSSSSSS!!!”
Regulus blew a kiss and strutted up the centre of the corridor like it was his personal catwalk.
“I’m too rocking to lock away, All the boys come and gawk away, Dropping jaws from a block away, Watching while I walk away.”
“LOVE TO WATCH HIM WALK AWAY!” a crowd of seventh-years bellowed.
Pandora turned to Barty.
“What the fuck is happening.”
“I don’t know,” Barty said hoarsely. “But I would die for him.”
“Bend and snap—” Regulus cooed, spinning.
“Now look how hot it’s getting, Bend and snap!”
Even Professor McGonagall had come out of her office and was watching in stunned silence.
“I bet right now you’re sweating, Spring the trap, They cheer and clap— I depend on my friend, Called— BEND— AND SNAP!”
The final pose: Regulus in a half-crouch, arms thrown up, head tilted, lip bitten.
Silence.
Then pandemonium.
Shrieking. Clapping. Cheers so loud it rattled the armor on the suits lining the corridor. Regulus blinked.
The spell snapped.
He froze.
The crowd roared.
“Oh no,” Regulus whispered, realizing where he was.
“Oh yes,” Sirius whispered, entirely horrified.
Regulus turned slowly, surveying the wreckage of Hogwarts’ student body—the flustered faces, the broken spirits, the people chanting his name like he was Caesar after the conquest of Gaul.
Then he tilted his head.
Smirked.
Flipped his hair.
Regulus Black held the final pose like it was his birthright—crouched low, arms spread, head tilted, lip bitten, pupils blown wide with the dregs of residual magic and adrenaline. He looked like sin bottled in silk. Breathless. Wild-eyed. Ferally composed.
And then he blinked.
Confused. Flushed. Human again.
The world crashed back in.
“Reg!” Barty barked, pushing through the throng like a soldier. Evan and Pandora were right behind him. Dorcas slid to her knees.
“Are you okay?” Pandora gasped.
“What the fuck was that?” Evan demanded, gripping Regulus under the arm and dragging him up.
Barty knelt, wide-eyed and reverent. “You—you danced.”
Regulus wobbled upright, dazed. “Did I?”
Dorcas cackled, practically vibrating. “You did. And you broke the school.”
They weren’t exaggerating.
All four house banners might as well have spontaneously combusted.
Boys were screaming. Whistling. Chanting.
Screaming.
And it wasn’t just the hormone-ridden masses. It was everyone. People were hanging over railings. Pressed against windowpanes. Standing on benches.
Benjy Fenwick had climbed a suit of armor and was holding onto the helmet for dear life. “REGULUS BLACK I LOVE YOU!”
Edgar Bones had conjured a bouquet and yeeted it like a discus. “Take my heart, take my OWLs, take everything!”
Gilderoy Lockhart flipped his hair and shouted, “You’re positively radiant, darling! Show me your skincare routine!”
“REGGIE BABY I’LL BUY YOU A HOUSE!” came a voice from somewhere in the crowd. Caradoc Dearborn, shirt half-untucked, grinning like he’d found religion in Reg’s hip bones.
But none were louder—none more insufferable—than Marlene McKinnon’s twin brother, a seventh-year beater with too much jawline and not enough shame.
Let’s call him Mattie McKinnon.
Mattie was howling.
“I’M GONNA GET THAT BOY PREGNANT!”
Marlene wheeled on him. “MATTHEW JAMES MCKINNON—”
“I’M SERIOUS, MARLY, I’M IN LOVE!”
“You can’t breed Regulus Black, you freak!”
“I CAN TOO!”
“HE’S TOO GOOD FOR YOU—”
“He WAVED at me! WE’RE MARRIED NOW!”
“HE WAVED AT THE WHOLE CROWD, YOU INBRED BUFFOON—”
“I AM GETTING REGULUS BLACK PREGNANT WITH MY DICK!”
Screaming.
Actual, physical screaming.
Regulus, still being supported by Evan and Dorcas, glanced over his shoulder at Mattie. Smiled sweetly. Fluttered his fingers.
Mattie exploded. “YES!!! YES! That’s it! He waved again! He’s having my babies! I’m picking out names, Marlene! Our firstborn’s gonna be called Lil Snappy!”
The Prewett twins had thrown their arms around each other and were fully howling like starved wolves.
“REGGIEEEE!!” Fabian screamed.
“BEND AND SNAP ME LIKE A TOOTHPICK!” Gideon added, writhing on the floor like he’d been shot.
Regulus looked right at them.
Blew a kiss.
They died. Fully died. Kicked their legs in the air like cartoon characters. Fabian shouted, “TELL MY WIFE I LOVED HIM!” before passing out on the flagstones.
Peter Pettigrew, who had been pink-faced and panting halfway up a stair railing, suddenly perked. Regulus caught his eye.
Waved. “Heyyy Pete~,” he purred.
Peter squealed. Actually. Squealed. “OHMYGODHEKNOWSMYNAMEHEKNOWSMYNAME—”
Then he straightened his shirt and tried to look cool. Ran a hand through his hair. “Well, well, well. Look who’s got taste.”
“You good, Pete?” Fabian wheezed from the floor.
“I’m sexy,” Peter said dazedly. “He said my name.”
James Potter was having what could only be described as a full-blown collapse of every foundational element of his identity.
He was gripping the side of the fountain like he’d seen God.
“Lily,” he croaked. “Lily, I need help.”
“No,” she said simply.
“LILY PLEASE—”
“I can’t help you, James. No one can.”
“I think—I think I’m—” He looked at Regulus again, who was now leaning playfully against Evan and nibbling coyly on his nail. “I THINK I’M INTO HIM—”
“You think?” Mary shrieked, doubled over in laughter.
“He made me sweat,” James whispered.
Frank Longbottom had turned an impressive shade of tomato red and had buried his face in Alice’s shoulder like a Victorian maiden. Alice patted his back, howling into her scarf.
“Frank,” she gasped, “you’re such a prude!”
“I CAN’T LOOK AT HIM,” Frank wailed.
And Remus.
Oh, poor Remus.
He was buffering like a cursed radio signal. Pale. Pink. Glowing.
Sirius grabbed him by the shoulders. “Moony. Moony. Are you okay?!”
Remus blinked. “He has the best ass I’ve ever seen.”
Sirius flinched like he'd been stabbed. “Don’t say that!”
“It’s just…” Remus looked off into the distance like he was watching doves fly into a sunset. “It’s so perfectly shaped. Like—divine architecture.”
“STOP IT.”
But Regulus wasn’t done.
He was thriving.
“Evan,” he said sweetly, still leaning into his taller friend’s side, “you’ll protect me, right? All these big scary boys... I’m just a poor innocent thing...”
Evan Rosier, normally unbothered by literally anything, blushed. “You’re a menace.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Regulus added, biting his finger. “I’ve never done this before…”
“Oh fuck you,” Barty snapped, laughing. “You liar.”
Regulus turned and blinked up at him, wide-eyed. “Be gentle with me. You’re so much bigger than me~”
Barty made an ungodly noise and dropped his face into his hands. “YOU CAN’T SAY THAT IN PUBLIC—”
Someone in the crowd fainted.
Pandora screeched, “DON’T ENCOURAGE HIM!”
Dorcas: “He’s the devil. He’s the devil in velvet.”
Evan: “I love him.”
Regulus: “I know.”
And Sirius. Oh, Sirius Black.
He had gone through all seven stages of grief in about three minutes. He now stood with his hands in his hair, staring at his little brother like he’d watched him murder someone and then make it sexy.
“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!” Sirius screamed, shoving his way toward Reg.
“You’re welcome?” Regulus said, still gently hanging off Evan’s arm.
“You can’t—You’re—YOU’RE MY LITTLE BROTHER—YOU CAN’T BE—PERCEIVED!”
Regulus blinked at him, deadpan.
“You do realise I’m not a virgin, right?”
Screaming.
Like. Actual. Screaming.
People dropped books. Collapsed. Lockhart gasped and grabbed someone’s arm. “Did he just—?”
“Yes!” wailed Caradoc. “He’s not a virgin!”
“I VOLUNTEERED TO FIX THAT A YEAR AGO!” Mattie McKinnon screamed.
Fabian climbed onto the bench. “I’LL DO IT FOR FREE!”
Sirius started convulsing.
“Someone get me a memory charm,” he begged. “A bludger. A fork—I’ll do it myself—”
Regulus just smiled. Spun slowly on the spot, hands outstretched to his audience.
“I’m beloved,” he said simply.
And he was.
God help them all.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The End.
