"Are you all right, Black?"
Regulus looked away from the two boys dressed in Slytherin robes, he should have pressed for more details, but he was almost late, and even without catching the two boys, tonight would be bad enough.
They all look healthy and safe, so he decides to let it go for now. God knows he's been stressed these last few days because of all this Secret Chamber mess.
He'd love to lock himself in his room and sleep for two whole days, but one day - more than ten years ago - he said yes to the offer of working at Hogwarts as a potions teacher and principal of the Slytherin house. Around the same time he accepted his place among the Wizengamot as lord and head of House Black.
The regrets he had about his stupid youthful decisions.
"I need a drink," he replied. His head was already aching and he hadn't even arrived at the Ministry for the Christmas ball yet.
He sighed wearily and turned to Stevens. She was wearing a dark blue dress with a black cape over it, the darkest colors he'd seen her wear in months.
"I'm sure you'll be at the ball," she said, tilting her head to the side, her half-closed eyes appraising him.
"Well, come on," he offered her his arm, "I don't want Nott to drink all the good alcohol by himself."
She looked like she wanted to say something, but thought better of it and just accepted his arm.
Initially, Regulus was only going to the Wizengamot ball because he had avoided going for the last two years and he needed to do a bit of politicking. Even if it is a form of torture, considering that he will have to deal with his former sect mates, and they are all still as despicable as when they were young.
But now he'd have to try and get answers from Lucius without giving away that it was Draco who told him. Which, considering his particular choice to openly and publicly repudiate the Dark Lord and all his actions, made things more difficult, especially with that annoying blond.
At least it wasn't just going to be an endless bore. Stevens was going to the party with him only because they were leaving from the same place, Hogwarts. She, to her continuing misfortune, was on a semi-blind date with some acquaintance of her brother-in-law.
That would have been fun to watch, but now he has to subject himself to Malfoy's arrogant presence.
[...]
He tried, Regulus would say so until the last day of his life, he tried, but enduring Lucius' long monologues about his old-fashioned nonsense brought him very close to the edge.
Too close to punching or jinxing the idiot after yet another misogynistic comment about an Auror, who was in the group that went to Malfoy Manor on an investigation to seize objects of dark magic.
He and Narcisa were whining about being victims of the Ministry's unfounded persecution of them because as Malfoys they are a very wealthy and influential family and shouldn't be treated like that.
Regulus was never grateful for his mother's lessons - because she punished him whenever he failed at something - especially the ones about good manners and how to behave around other people, how not to let them know what you're thinking, all of which are bad memories from his childhood, but very useful nowadays.
In fact, even though he wishes he hadn't gone through any of it, all his mother's teachings saved him. All the stuff about being superior, about behaving in public, about controlling your expressions, and especially about Occlumency, in general, is what allowed him to survive Voldemort while he was one of his followers, and Dumbledore now.
It also helped him not to grimace or roll his eyes as he felt like doing while Lucius was bragging about having bought something stupidly expensive and rare.
"And you, Regulus?" the blond turned to him.
"I'm still a teacher," he sipped his firewhisky.
Regulus realized at a glance that this was his third glass.
"A difficult task," he ran a hand through his blond hair, "all those mudbloods, I'm sure they're too stupid to tell the difference between the ingredients.
Regulus bit his tongue to keep from reminding the idiot in front of him that his precious son always got a lower grade than a muggle-born girl, just to spare Draco any punishment Lucius might give him for not being better than "someone inferior" to them.
As sure as Regulus was that Draco had never been punished for anything before entering Hogwarts, he didn't want the events of his life to be repeated with his godson.
Lucius continued talking, but Regulus wasn't paying attention.
"And now the mudblood will get what they deserve," said Black.
"How exactly?" another indifferent sip "Dumbledore is still principal."
"There are things even that old fool can't do or stop," Lucius shook his head, "he's getting weaker and weaker, he can't protect his school."
"Well, I don't see what he has to protect the school from. If I remember correctly, there's never been a real attack at Hogwarts since Dumbledore became principal."
"Well, I don't see what he has to protect the school from. If I remember correctly, there's never been a real attack at Hogwarts since Dumbledore became principal."
Regulus took another long sip, defending Dumbledore was always annoying. Black was increasingly more critical of the man than complimentary, but there were still times when he had to put that aside. He looked down at his now empty glass.
"That useless Muggle lover can't stop the will of really powerful wizards from happening."
Regulus exchanged his empty glass for a full one as a flying tray of drinks approached them.
"Hogwarts is still the safest place in wizarding Britain."
"That's what fools would say. How can a Muggle-lover protect our precious children? Especially one as senile as that little principal."
"Really powerful wizards are in short supply these days."
"There is only one great wizard, powerful enough to do what is necessary to restore the greatness of magic."
"If you're talking about who I think you are," Regulus became very uncomfortable, tapping his little finger lightly on the bottom of the glass to draw out its energy, "I must remind you that this one is dead."
"Regulus, my friend," Lucius draped his arm over the brunet's shoulders, whispering the next part, "you have no idea of our master's greatness."
A shiver of terror ran through Regulus, who barely managed to disguise it, as he turned away from Lucius.
That can't be true. Well, yes, it can, but how did Voldemort manage to infiltrate Hogwarts again?
He indeed managed to do it the year before, but Quirrell was on his and Dumbledore's radar. He'd known there was something wrong with the young professor since the beginning of that year, but now he had no idea who might be working for the dark wizard.
"You'd know more if you hadn't disappeared for so long," Lucius concluded, turning away.
Regulus drank the rest of his drink.
Of course, he'd been missing for almost a year and a half, not only trying to steal a Horcrux but also recovering from his endeavor. Weeks in a deep coma and a few more in and out of the conscious world. And then he had the time it took to fully recover his body from the damage of the poison Voldemort had used to protect the locket, and from all the injuries he had gained thanks to the infernals.
Honestly, to have survived to this day is a miracle.
Malfoy sounded very confident, but he wasn't bragging enough, just as he did when he received an important mission in the past.
That worm knew something and wasn't just going to tell, because there was still a half-functioning brain inside that blond head.
[...]
"Are you drunk?"
Regulus raised his head and saw that the Stevens sisters were looking at him with a mixture of judgment and amusement.
"Try being around Malfoy for too long without alcohol," he replied in a grumpy grumble, "and fail miserably."
"Okay, elafrýs sto potó*, let's go," Persie said holding out her hand.
"All right, petit créature agacante," Regulus replied, accepting the help to get up.
Persie's younger sister, Jo Jameson, looked between them with a slight frown and a strange smile on her face.
"Well, I should get back to my husband," the blonde said with the typical teasing smile of siblings, Regulus was a little too drunk to try and understand, "have a nice evening."
"Good night, Mrs. Jameson," he replied.
She turned to her sister, hugged her, and then shook Regulus' hand before leaving.
"Enochlitikó plasmatáki" she said not so quietly, but already distantly.
At another time, Regulus would have believed that the Stevens sisters were just mocking him in Greek, as Persie usually did. But with the reddening of the brunette's cheeks and the fact that he had drunk more than usual to fraternize with his former fellow Death Eaters, he decided to ignore it.
Getting punched wouldn't make his night any better anyway.
"Are you all right?" she asked as they walked away from the party - you look worried.
"How could you not be, with everything that's been going on?"
"You're right, but you still drank a lot today," she commented, "if talking to Malfoy is so bad, why did you do it?"
"You wouldn't understand."
"Try being around Malfoy for too long without alcohol," he replied in a grumpy grumble, "and fail miserably."
"Okay, elafrýs sto potó, let's go," Persie said holding out her hand.
"All right, petit créature agacante," Regulus replied, accepting the help to get up.
Persie's younger sister, Jo Jameson, looked between them with a slight frown and a strange smile on her face.
"Well, I should get back to my husband," the blonde said with the typical teasing smile of siblings, Regulus was a little too drunk to try and understand, "have a nice evening."
"Good night, Mrs. Jameson," he replied.
She turned to her sister, hugged her, and then shook Regulus' hand before leaving.
"Enochlitikó plasmatáki she said not so quietly, but already distantly.
At another time, Regulus would have believed that the Stevens sisters were just mocking him in Greek, as Persie usually did. But with the reddening of the brunette's cheeks and the fact that he had drunk more than usual to fraternize with his former fellow Death Eaters, he decided to ignore it.
Getting punched wouldn't make his night any better anyway.
"Are you all right?" she asked as they walked away from the party - you look worried.
"How could you not be, with everything that's been going on?"
"You're right, but you still drank a lot today," she commented, "if talking to Malfoy is so bad, why did you do it?"
"You wouldn't understand."
"Nonsense," she replies, "if you don't want to talk, just say it's none of my business."
"It's not that," he hastens to say, "I just don't want to jump the gun."
She stopped them near the Flu fireplaces. One very annoying thing about her is that despite her outgoing and somewhat outspoken personality at times, she is also very clever and observant, which he would normally admire, but considering that Regulus doesn't want to explain his theories and everything surrounding his real reasons for being a teacher at Hogwarts, it makes her appraising gaze uncomfortable.
"Do you think he has something to do with the whole school thing?" she asks without mentioning it explicitly just to avoid prying ears, "or does it have to do with something from the not-so-distant past."
"I don't know," he lies, "but there's no need to worry."
"Funny you should say that to a Muggle-born," she replies less lightly.
"Nothing is going to happen to you."
"Black, nothing should have happened anyway," she looked him in the eye, "and yet it did."
"We'll sort it out," he said with all the determination he had.
"Well, let's go back to Hogwarts for now," she turned to the fireplace, "it's my day to help with patrols."
[...]
Regulus woke up very irritable the next day, but at least the anti-hangover potion he took when he got to his quarters was enough to keep his headache at bay.
Finding out that Miss Granger ended up in the infirmary because she was suffering from side effects of the polysuccus potion was, however, enough for the headache to appear.
He can't say he's really surprised that it was she who made the potion so difficult. Not that he underestimates the skills of Weasley and Potter, but even the twins Fred and George are better than them at it.
Later that day, during a meeting with Dumbledore, he was struck by an idea, which at first didn't seem terrible, but could very easily become so.
"I'm sorry, I don't think I understood correctly," he said, staring at the principal, "reopening the dueling club? Who gave you that idea?"
"It was a unique idea, which in other times might have been received with a more critical eye," Dumbledore ran a hand through his beard, "but I see the good potential in the idea, the children should know how to defend themselves."
"I don't deny that," the brunette ran a hand through his hair, "it's certainly a skill that everyone should have, I just wonder who will be in charge of teaching them?"
"Oh, yes, of course, our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher will be in charge of that."
Are you kidding me?
"Lockhart?" he said instead.
"Correct."
"The man you know, and in some twisted way, is trying to prove is a pathological liar who steals wizarding feats from others?"
The man just nodded.
Of course, put the idiot who can barely pronounce a spell correctly to teach the children how to defend themselves. How could it go wrong?
"I mentioned to him," Dumbledore continued, unfazed, "that if he needed help, you, young man, would be happy to help."
"Of course, I would," Regulus muttered sarcastically.
"Excellent," Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his hands in front of him as the fingers of one hand tapped against the other, "We'll be starting in the second half of January."
"Good."