Thursday afternoon, after History of Magic class.
Regulus walked alone through a secluded corridor leading to the library, clutching his books.
Professor Binns's hypnotic voice still lingered in his mind as he contemplated records regarding the combination of seventeenth-century goblin metalworking and magical runes.
Suddenly, three figures flashed around the corner ahead, blocking his path.
James Potter stood in the middle, a mischievous smirk plastered on his face.
Remus Lupin stood slightly behind him to the side, his brow furrowed, while Peter Pettigrew cowered at the very back, his eyes darting around.
"Yo, look who it is? Slytherin's little Chief." James drawled intentionally. "Alone? Where are the Chief's lackeys?"
Regulus stopped in his tracks, his gaze calmly sweeping over the three, lingering for a moment longer on Lupin.
The brown-haired youth's brow was slightly furrowed, and his posture held a subtle, barely perceptible stiffness. He wasn't aggressive like James, nor cowering like Peter Pettigrew; he seemed more like a reluctant bystander.
Or rather, he was more like a vessel desperately suppressing something.
Regulus quietly swept his magic perception over Lupin and could clearly feel a magical quality within him that was being forcibly imprisoned yet instinctively restless—non-human, primitive, carrying the chill of blood and moonlight.
It lurked, dormant, completely at odds with Lupin's own gentle temperament.
*Werewolf.*
A somewhat absurd association couldn't help but cross Regulus's mind—why couldn't it be a pig-man, a dog-man, or a sheep-man?
Maybe on a full moon night, they would just transform and root around in the mud of the Forbidden Forest, chase their tails, or quietly graze on grass; that would probably be quite interesting.
The thought flashed by. He knew Lupin's secret, but he believed that a werewolf was just that—nothing worth too much attention.
He had no intention of exposing it; he'd just let them continue playing that game called friendship.
Sirius wasn't among the group opposite him, which Regulus understood clearly; it was somewhat amusing, yet also a bit tiresome.
It was like being focused on a journey and encountering a few bratty children playing in the mud in the middle of the road, attempting to throw stones at you.
"Potter," Regulus began, his voice devoid of emotion, "if your intellect is as barren as your magic, I suggest you head straight to the Hospital Wing instead of wasting what little brain you have performing such unoriginal provocations here."
James's face suddenly flushed red: "You—!"
"I what?" Regulus interrupted, his tone carrying a hint of mockery that bordered on pity. "Do you think this is some game for the brave?
Looking for trouble, fighting, proving who is better? Is your life really so simple that only Quidditch, pranks, and these childish tricks remain?"
He looked at James, and it was as if through this furious youth, he saw the man of the future who would confront Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters in the same simple, direct manner.
Commendable courage, but the method was too crude and idealized, even unintelligent and reckless.
As if the entire world could operate on a single model of "good guys should beat bad guys."
This optimism, grown in love and sunlight and unpolished by true cruelty, was sometimes outrageously naive.
James, humiliated into rage, suddenly drew his wand: "Jinx spell! Leg-Locker Curse!"
Two spells, one high and one low, shot toward him simultaneously. It was clear he had practiced them, and the speed was much faster than that of an average lower-year wizard.
However, in Regulus's eyes, it was still slow enough.
He didn't even move his feet, casually tracing a semicircle with his wand in front of him.
"Protego." A solid silver barrier instantly unfurled.
James's two spells slammed into the barrier, exploding into two clusters of light fragments; the barrier didn't budge an inch.
"What?!" James was stunned.
In the moment he dazed, Regulus pointed his wand forward: "Expelliarmus."
James reacted quickly—true to his reputation for athleticism in the original story—as he immediately tried to roll and dodge.
But it was useless; all his intentions were laid bare in Regulus's eyes.
A thick, condensed red light hit his chest like a bolt of lightning.
"Ah!" James cried out in pain as his body was knocked back. His wand flew from his hand and was caught mid-air by Regulus using a Levitation Charm.
"Petrificus Totalus." The third spell followed almost seamlessly, accurately hitting Lupin's shoulder just as he was about to move.
Lupin's body instantly stiffened, frozen in a mid-step posture, unable to move, with only a look of shock in his eyes.
Peter had long since been scared witless. Seeing his two companions dealt with in an instant, he gave a shriek and turned to run without even drawing his wand.
"Incarcerous." Regulus didn't even look at him, giving a casual wave. Invisible magic took shape in front of Peter, locking him firmly in place, leaving him able only to let out terrified whimpers.
The entire process took less than ten seconds. Silence returned to the corridor, leaving only the sight of James clutching his chest and gasping, Lupin frozen still, and Peter struggling silently.
Regulus held James's wand and walked over to him, looking down at his face, which was distorted by pain and disbelief.
"Is your confidence built on such fragile tricks?" He tossed the wand back into James's arms, his tone like that of someone lecturing a disobedient child. "Go back and read more books, Potter.
Or, look at what those around you are doing. Why not learn from those who are excellent?"
Regulus paid them no more mind and prepared to turn and leave. Just then, hurried footsteps echoed from the other end of the corridor.
He paused for a moment and lifted the spells on Lupin and Peter. Lupin stumbled, leaning against the wall to steady himself, while Peter collapsed onto the floor, panting heavily.
"James Potter! What have you done now—?!" Lily Evans ran over, out of breath, her red hair flying and her green eyes full of anger.
She had heard rumors and rushed over to stop it.
But when she saw the unscathed and calm Regulus, and the disheveled James trio with a dropped wand, her expression blanked for a moment.
"It seems you're late, Miss Evans." Regulus nodded to the stunned Lily, his tone flat but not harsh.
He looked down at James Potter again, his grey eyes devoid of any emotion, showing only indifference.
"This is the last time, Potter." His voice was not loud. "I don't care about your childish games, nor do I have any interest in cooperating to satisfy your boring pride.
This is the second time you've actively provoked me, and it's also the last. I won't give you a third chance."
James snapped his head up, fire practically spitting from his eyes. He wanted to retort, to curse.
But the pain in his chest and the reality of being completely crushed just moments ago without any power to fight back were like two heavy stones blocking his throat.
He understood Regulus's warning. If he offended again, the consequences would never be as light as they were today.
After Regulus finished speaking, he stopped looking at him and turned to the complex-looking Lily, saying, "As it happens, I was just heading to the library to look up some Potion materials. Care to join?"
Lily looked at James, who was defiant but clearly intimidated and silent, then looked at the calm and composed Regulus. She hesitated for a moment before finally nodding.
"All right, I have a Potions essay to write as well."
The two walked side-by-side toward the library, leaving James Potter behind. He watched their retreating backs, his face alternating between blue and white, feeling for the first time a comprehensive, thorough sense of defeat.
Remus Lupin stood leaning against the wall, watching the direction Regulus had gone, his heart churning with complex emotions, even mixed with a trace of guilt.
Twice in a row, they had been the ones to actively look for trouble with the other party.
And Regulus Black, although a Slytherin through and through, had never had a reputation for bullying the weak or using underhanded means.
In contrast, they—especially James—relied on their numbers and their genuinely superior spell-casting abilities compared to other young wizards to play pranks on and humiliate anyone they didn't like, laughing loudly and mocking them afterward.
He stepped forward and pulled up James, who was still somewhat dazed.
Peter scrambled up from the ground himself, his small eyes still full of fear, clearly terrified by the swift and decisive way they had been dealt with.
James's expression was hideous, as if a Sirius had died. He gripped his recovered wand so tightly his knuckles turned white.
His mind was now filled with everything that had happened in those few seconds: his spells easily blocked, his wand flying out of his hand, Remus petrified, Peter bound.
He had indeed taken Regulus's warning to heart.
But even so, he had to get his revenge; he had to wash away today's humiliation.
But that would require… a more meticulous plan, greater strength, or waiting for a better opportunity.
At the very least, he couldn't have another reckless frontal confrontation like today. This thought made him feel incredibly frustrated, his face so dark it looked as if it could drip water.
"Let's go." James finally squeezed out two words from between his teeth, shaking off Lupin's hand that was supporting him, and walked toward Gryffindor Tower without looking back, his steps heavy and hurried.
Lupin and Peter exchanged a glance and quickly followed.
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