Regulus Black
The beginning of November brought three things: the chill of impending winter, the start of Quidditch games, and the rivalry of Slytherin and Gryffindor in full force.
In the last week, Regulus had to take fifteen points from Gryffindor during his class with the fifth year, because Oliver Wood couldn't concentrate in the class and was too focused on their first game against Slytherin. Black didn't envy his students who were part of the team for a second. But he won't openly judge him either, he might be a hypocrite, but not for that, he wasn't all that different from Wood when it came to winning a Quidditch match.
The first game between Slytherin and Gryffindor took over the school as usual, the students of both houses teasing each other almost free of charge for the entire week before the game, thankfully with far fewer visits to the hospital wing for unfortunate hexes than in the past, and without all the prejudice of blood status. Well, at least nothing so public that it would reach Professor Black's ears.
Regulus is very proud of how much his students and the house he heads have evolved in the nearly decade he's worked there, even if most haven't changed their beliefs about blood values and legitimacy and all that pureblood bullshit. , these same people learned that living in society is more important than being sovereign and causing the death of the entire wizarding world out of simple spite for those who, in their eyes, are inferior in some way. It was a long road, very difficult, especially in the early years of his career as a teacher, and always a new wave of difficulty with the arrival of new students every year. But in short, he is happy with his home. Most of the time at least.
" Mr. Malfoy," Black said when his nephew disrupted his class just to wish Potter a bad fate in the next game. Leaving unacceptable insults at the brunette's friends, based solely on blood and money status, because the boy had to be as ridiculously superficial as his idiot father " I thought I made it more than clear, that such behavior is not accepted in my class or at that school. Minus fifteen points for Slytherin.
Perhaps now, if Draco couldn't control himself, his peers would do it for him. As seen many times in years past, Slytherins hated to lose, especially if it was the fault of a continual mistake by one of their own.
This first-year class, and he's not even referring to the other houses, has been difficult to teach what he's been teaching his Slytherins and anyone else who'll listen over the last few years. The fact that they were the most Death Eater children he'd had since the end of the war is one explanation, which while satisfactory irritated him greatly. What would have happened to these young people if they hadn't been influenced all their lives by pureblood doctrine and the precepts of a power lunatic? How different they might have been if the Ministry had done their job right and arrested all the Death Eaters who claimed to be under the Imperius Curse or whatever other stupid shit the cowards used to get rid of Azkaban. But they got away and have been the last ten years alienating their children about the grandeur of a lie they are so sunk in they can't see.
Everyone has kind of been living in an illusion since the end of the war, two lies are being told over and over again among the people; The first is that the Dark Lord died, defeated by a baby just over a year old. Most people didn't know enough to doubt this claim, but most of those with information prefer to believe that the dark wizard who brought terror across the country and beyond has been defeated in some inexplicable way. Others believe he is alive, however, this group also believes he was right in everything he did. There is the third group, which consists of a much smaller group compared to the other two, who know that Voldemort is still alive and that he needs to be defeated once and for all.
As a member of this particular third group, Regulus has become increasingly concerned about the imminent return of his former Lord. Especially in recent months with the presence of the Philosopher's Stone at Hogwarts, the attempt to steal it, and what would happen if Voldemort could get his hands on it.
Although no one knows for sure what happened to him after Halloween 1981, the theory Dumbledore and Regulus arrived at, which made the most sense, is that thanks to Lily's sacrifice of love, a very powerful spell, Voldemort lost his form. physical or at least most of it that way, and now he's holed up in some far-off corner of the world gathering the strength to come back - which is the scary part - and if he's lost his body he needs a new one, and the Philosopher's Stone can give that to him.
This was part of his discussion with Dumbledore the night after the troll attack. That and how Quirinus Quirrell is acting even stranger than usual, the professor, who was once a student of Regulus, has always been a rather shy person, with trouble expressing himself in public, and questionable social graces, but remarkably intelligent and curious. He took over as Professor of Muggle Studies in 1988 replacing Professor Stevens, this for some reason made Dumbledore, Pomfrey, and McGonagall believe that Regulus had a personal grudge with the man for replacing his friend, which is a huge outrage. Three years later, in 1990, Quirrell took a sabbatical, and since returning, now as a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, he seems a lot different, a lot more submissive than he used to behave.
Regulus voiced this observation to Dumbledore, and all he got was the newest assignment to keep an eye on the youngest man. He didn't have any proof or even know what was wrong with his colleague, if the man needed help Black would help within his capabilities. But the little flea that once, more than ten years ago, had bitten his ear about his loyalty to Voldemort has come back to attack him about Quirrell.
***
The weather for the game was very good considering the proximity of winter, the warm sun over the heads of everyone who went to the field to watch the match. Regulus sat in the middle of the teacher's designated bleachers, two rows above third-year Lee Jordan who will be the match announcer, and next to Minerva McGonagall. Stevens wouldn't even step onto the field on a day like today, let alone sit so close to the transfiguration teacher. Regulus shakes his head with a slight smile on his lips, thinking about how Stevens was afraid of McGonagall was always a little amusing to him.
The game went well, as dangerous as can be expected from a group of very competitive teenagers, although he had told his house not to cheat or seriously injure a certain boy too small and too young to even be participating, there was nothing close to clumsy throughout the game. At least he convinced Marcus Flint not to do any Gryffindor-worthy barbarities during the game.
He was happy most of the time, especially when Slytherin turned the tables and started scoring, he heard McGonagall complain to Lee Jordan about his narration, and then curse under his breath when Wood was hit by an errant Bludger and passed out. Luckily and with a dose of magic, the broom with the unconscious body of the Gryffindor Captain safely descended to the ground.
This was the beginning of the turnaround for Slytherin to start scoring points again and again. Regulus shifted his focus to the small player on the other side of the field. Harry Potter looked more like a spectator than a player at that moment, just watching his elders clash rather than looking for the Golden Snitch. The Slytherin Seeker was running across the pitch as far away from the other players as possible so as not to take a misplaced Bludger, and yet it was Potter who saw it first.
Regulus noticed the moment the boy caught sight of the golden ball, his posture completely changed, and he furrowed his brows for a moment before darting closer to the game with a determined gaze completely Lily Evans being a force of nature to be reckoned with. . And that's when it happened, a sudden tug on the broom in the opposite direction it was going, and then another, and finally Harry lost his grip completely and began to be rocked back and forth like a baby's toy as the boy clung to the broom as if his life depended on it.
A jinx? Regulus thought to himself, starting to cast a counter hex before he had time to figure out who was doing it to the boy.
Harry fell, his entire body in the air and only his hands still gripping the broom handle now above his head. Everyone exclaimed loudly as he fell. Where is Hooch to stop the game and stop the boy from getting hurt?
Regulus saw in his peripheral vision as the twins flew towards Harry, but he kept his gaze fixed on him as he continued to mumble. The red-haired boys flew in circles a little below Harry trying to catch the brunette on the broom with one of them, but the sudden movements of Harry's broom were hindering their mission.
That's when a tap on his shoulder made Regulus look away. The immediate world around him became his focus as he noticed a fire in his robes. The man directly behind him leaped back, knocking down two rows of people. Regulus cast a non-verbal spell to put out the fire and turned his attention to Harry. Whatever happened, his broom stopped and the boy managed to get back on it.
If the jinx stopped, it was because someone behind me must have cast it, Regulus thought as he studied the people in the rows behind him. Everyone seemed to have turned their attention back to Harry, but he caught a glimpse of a purple rag leaving the bleachers towards the stairs.
Black followed Quirrell down the stairs to the ground floor.
"Leaving the game before the end?" Regulus asked the other teacher.
" W-well, y-y-yes " the man in the turban stammered as he usually did "I don't w-want be in-in the middle of t-all the c-celebration.
"Even though I don't know who's going to celebrate."
"Q-Quidditch has n-never been to m-me."
Regulus nodded and Quirrell almost ran away. The brunette just stared the way the other disappeared hearing the clamor from the top of the bleachers, something exciting was happening apparently. Black planned to go out and see the endgame on the ground, but the bulge of thick hair caught his eye, as did the colors of a scarf.
- MS. Granger, may I ask what you're doing away from your home bleachers? Regulus asks turning to the girl, and wide brown eyes stare back at him, there's apprehension there, his wand barely hidden in the sleeve of his robes.
He stared at the pieces connecting in his mind, the girl hidden on the stairs to the teachers' bleachers minutes after her cloak was set on fire. Setting things on fire isn't something Flitwick teaches the first years, but Granger has proven herself to be very clever for most of the first years, and more than safe for her safety, if lying so ridiculously to McGonagall's face last week was a recommendation.
Regulus may not have said anything about the story of the brunette going after a mountain troll with two months of study at Hogwarts, it wasn't impossible, Black knows his brother would do the same, but Sirius did worse. And she's a Gryffindor, in the end, no matter how much intelligence her mind accumulates she's probably going to do something gigantically honorable and completely stupid. Stupid courage is inherent in Gryffindors, some more so than others.
"Who would abandon an exciting game, right, miss?" he comments without really expecting an answer.
The celebratory cheers from outside sure drowned out any attempt the girl made to respond in any way. They walked out onto the pitch and saw Harry on the ground, his hand raised holding the Golden Snitch, the Gryffindors cheering, some already storming onto the pitch while the other players descended from the sky. The Slytherin was heading towards the stairs, almost completely silent, the slumped shoulders of the players being the biggest indication of frustration at defeat.
***
November turned into December much faster than Regulus would have liked, but soon most of the students were boarding the Expresso to go home for Christmas and New Year, leaving the school with a very small number of students.
Regulus used to hate Christmas, especially after Sirius and his mother started fighting constantly, and he got dragged into the pompous and boring pure-blood parties. Since his near-death and employment at Hogwarts, he has continued to not celebrate the holiday, just enjoying the feast and sleeping early when possible. That's when he didn't go to the Ministry gala, with his position in Wizengamot he had an invitation every year, and he avoided it whenever he could.
Since the holidays started everything has become more relaxed, well almost, the Weasleys stayed for a reason. But it was Quirrell who fell victim to the twins who jinxed snowballs to hit the professor in the back of the head. Regulus was already tired enough to just pretend not to see it.
***
Harry Potter
Time seems to fly by since Harry arrived at Hogwarts, it's almost like it was yesterday that he boarded the train for the first time, anxious and a little overwhelmed by all the changes, but very excited about the new world and the prospect of being away from the old ones. Dursley for several months.
It's now December and he's been through so much already. He learned to fly, played, and won a Quidditch match, even though he almost died in the middle of it. He faced a troll.
After Halloween things got a little weirder at the castle, Ron and he noticed how awkward Professor Black and Professor Quirrell have been, especially with each other.
Then there was the match between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and someone around his broom, Hermione saved him by setting Black's cloak on fire. Harry talked her and Ron through it, but when she brought up the fact that Quirrell had practically fled the game after the enchantment over Harry was broken they took a closer look at the man.
On the one hand, Mr. Black is a recognized and cleared ex-Death Eater, which means he worked for the man who killed Harry's parents, on the other hand, this man was never anything but polite and a little mocking to Harry himself and everyone else. students. Considering he is also Head of Slytherin House, the fact that he doesn't display any sort of preference for Slytherins. And from what he's been hearing from older Gryffindors, particularly Ron's brothers, it seems, Black has been openly exhibiting an anti-Dark Lord policy ever since he became a teacher, but Harry knows that people can pretend to be the ones that are not.
Quirrell in turn is very strange for a teacher, especially compared to the others, he doesn't seem like the type that likes to be in the spotlight, he stutters whenever he's nervous, and he always seems to be nervous. This in itself isn't something Harry judges, but he's been looking even more isolated, thinner, and more preoccupied. Perhaps this was all in his head and that of his friends, perhaps he was right, only time can tell you that.
One other discovery, however, that he has after the Quidditch match is that the three-headed dog not only has a name but also belongs to Hagrid. Solution.
Hagrid got it from a stranger and lent it to Dumbledore at the start of the school year. Harry spent a long time trying to figure out what the headmaster needed a huge dog for, especially with the phrase Hagrid let slip.
"Listen, you three: you're meddling in things that are none of your business. This is dangerous. Forget that dog, forget what he's guarding, this is Prof. Dumbledore with Nicholas Flamel... - The half-giant eyes widened, interrupting himself in the middle of his speech when he realized what he was saying. The man was furious with himself and ran away from the three soon after.
Well, thanks to Hagrid, they discovered that: 1- That dog was guarding something, 2- Black was someone Dumbledore trusted, and 3- Nicholas Flameus and Dumbledore were together on some matter about what Fluffy is protecting.
This left them with the question: Who is Nicholas Flamel?
They haven't been able to get anything out of the gamekeeper since then. What was left for them to research in the library, and that's what they did whenever they had some time, especially with the holidays approaching, they would have more time during the end of year break, but Hermione would be heading home, leaving Harry and Ron to continue the search.
***
This was the best Christmas of his life, and not just being away from the Dursleys.
It was late at night, Harry should have been sleeping. He had a great day, his first Christmas getting a present he got two. A sweater with his initial, hand knitted by Molly which he spent the day wearing just like the other Weasleys, the outfit was comfortable and cozy and smelled like cookies, Harry loved the gift.
The second and more mysterious one is an heirloom it seems, an invisibility cloak that belonged to his father. And that was what kept him from sleeping, so he got up and put on his cloak, and walked out through the commons.
Harry thought that walking a little might help him sleep, so he walked down several corridors until he found a room he had never been in before. The half-open door was an indication that there was nothing dangerous in there, well he expected that when he entered.
The icy room had absolutely nothing but a ceiling-high, magnificent mirror in a gilded frame with an inscription at the top: Oãça rocu esme ojesed osamo tso rueso ortso moãn.
He moved closer until he could see himself reflected, and he had to put his hands over his mouth to keep from screaming. He quickly turned back, but he was still alone in that classroom. But the image in the mirror shows him and a veritable crowd behind him.
His breathing quickened as he turned back to the mirror.
Her reflection looking pale and scared was there, and at her back were at least ten people. Harry looked over his shoulder, confused at how he was alone in the room, but surrounded by people through the mirror.
He turned a third time to the mirror, a woman standing just behind his image was smiling at him. Harry reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. From the image his hands were very close, he would be touching her if she were there, but there was nothing.
She was a very beautiful woman, her hair was red and her eyes, her eyes were the same as his, a bright green, with the same shape. She was smiling, but also crying. A tall, thin man with messy dark curly hair hugged her. He wore glasses much like Harry's, just a little square. He looked a lot like Harry, except for his eyes, the men were dark brown.
- Mommy? he murmured. "Daddy?"
The two just smiled looking at him, not his reflection, at himself. He looked around at the others, they all had something in common, in appearance, with Harry. Those were his relatives, he realized with tears streaming down his cheeks. He is seeing his family for the first time in his life.
The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he waved back needily, his hands squeezing the mirror as if he could get inside it and reach his family.
***
He can't say how long he was there, even if his life depended on it, the image hasn't changed, just his family is there for him. That's when he heard the door open. Harry jumped to his feet and faced Professor Black standing in the doorway.
- Teacher? Harry says, his voice is hoarse from crying or not using it for too long, he doesn't know.
" Mr. Potter" the tired sigh in the man's voice "is way past bedtime kid, you shouldn't be wandering around."
Harry looked into the mirror for a second before turning back to the man, gaze downcast, he wasn't sorry but he didn't want to get in trouble either.
" I- yes, professor.
"Well, it's not Christmas anymore," the potions teacher was saying with a thoughtful air, "but I'll let it go this time." We'll escort you back to the commons.
Harry's eyes widened, surprised to get away with a punishment. He didn't want to leave, but he couldn't live in that room either, he knew that. Then he gathered up his cloak, folding it over his arm so as not to reveal the magic it held.
It wasn't the most comfortable moment for Harry, walking with Professor Black back to Gryffindor Tower, but he had been through far worse things in his life to be bothered by the adult's silence.
Somewhere along the way, Harry noticed how much neater the man's clothes were than usual. Professor Black is known for dressing well, but now he is dressed almost like those people in the movies, those rich people who go to expensive parties and are full of money and drama from the soap operas Aunt Petunia likes to watch.
"Well, here we are," Black said when they stopped in front of the Fat Lady's portrait, "have a good night Potter."
Harry nodded passing the password to the board. When the passage opened, Harry looked one last time at the professor.
" Good night, Mr. Black " the boy hesitated before passing through the entrance " Merry Christmas.
"Merry Christmas, Harry." Regulus opened a slight smile.
***
Harry had been in that same room, staring into that strange mirror for hours for two more nights after he was found by the Potions teacher.
On the second night, just after Christmas, he took Ron with him, hoping that the boy could explain to him what the mirror was, but when the red-haired boy looked at his reflection he didn't see Harry's parents. Instead, he saw himself as the captain of the Quidditch team, holding both the Quidditch and House cups, something Harry found to be the boy's dream.
On the third night, he hurried into the room to find his family smiling at him and he only realized he wasn't alone in the room when Prof. Dumbledore made himself noticed.
"Again here, Harry?"
Harry felt his insides freeze at the sound of the Headmaster's voice, turning around he found him leaning against some school chairs that were now propped against the wall opposite the door. The gentle smile on the elder's face eased Harry's nervousness, he wasn't completely in trouble.
"I see that," the man said as he approached the boy, "like hundreds before you, you have discovered the pleasures of the Mirror of Erised.
When Harry got back to his room that night he had learned a few things about the enchanted object. The mirror showed people what they wanted with all their hearts, and what Harry always wanted was a family, a real one, that loved him. That's why he understood a little why Dumbledore had said not to go back, being trapped in an illusion is not living, even if the illusion is much better than the truth. He wasn't happy, but he was used to not having what he wanted.