Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

—September 1st—

“Percy?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“Who is that man next to Professor Quirrel?”

“Him? That’s Professor Black, potions master. Bit of a cold one, best not to get on his bad side.”

“He’s staring at me.” 

“Everyone is staring at you, Potter.”

—September 2nd—

“I expect many of you to be, first and foremost, learners in my class. I do not wish to see you chatting with your classmates during instruction nor experiment, and such reckless behavior in a class where detail and attention is so very vital will only be discouraged.”

He watched the young Potter boy open his parchment as he walked in the room, flicking the blinds shut. 

“I also expect that while you should indeed be closely watching your books and I, I strongly advise you to observe your peer’s work as well. Learning from each other is a life skill you must adapt to as you start a learning career here at Hogwarts.” 

Potter was watching him intently as he flipped to a blank page.

“Many of you will learn to respect the art and vigil that goes into something so exact as potion-making.” 

Regulus smiled as Harry dipped his quill.

“Now, wands away and eyes up at me. Can anyone tell me what I would get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

The girl with the bushy hair, who had sat next to Potter, shot her own hand up and nearly smacked her friend upside the head. 

“What is your name?” 

“Granger, sir, Hermione Granger.”

“Quaint. You know the answer, do you?”

The girl nodded, her hair falling over her shoulders like a tumbleweed. 

“Tell me.”

—September 3rd—

“You wanted to see me, sir?” 

Regulus looked up from the large stack of paperwork that had accumulated on his desk and replaced his quill into the ink jar. At his door stood Potter, crossing his arms around himself as if to guard himself from a shadow inside Regulus’s office.

“Yes, Mr. Potter, I did. Please, take a seat,” Regulus said, gesturing to the empty seat in front of his desk. “Headmaster Dumbledore has been rather tough on me this year, as you might notice from the mountain on my desk. Would you like some tea?” 

Harry nodded as he lowered himself into the chair. 

Regulus took the moment as he reached for the set to sweep his eyes over the boy, hardly eleven years old. Knowing what he knew was to be the boy’s future, he couldn't help but feel some sort of obligation to protect not just him, but his innocence.

From what he’d heard from McGonagall, Potter had hardly even had what one could call a childhood. Looking at him now, he seemed small, and timid. A world away from what the universe had destined for him.

“What did you need, Professor?”

Regulus shook himself out of his stupor. “Do you speak French, Mr. Potter?”

The boy squinted at Regulus, as if he’d just told him he'd grow eight more arms and jump into the black lake. 

“No, sir.” 

“Funny. Your father did.”

At this, Harry’s eyes grew so wide that the green of his irises resembled a true emerald. And Regulus, with his upbringing, would know.

“You knew my father ? ”

Regulus chuckled, finally pouring a second cup of tea and setting the plate in front of Potter.

“I knew both of your parents. Scone?”

Harry took the scone from his hands and there was a moment of silence as he shakily set it on the plate next to his cup. 

Regulus folded his hands on the desk. “You have-”

“-My mother’s eyes,” Potter said exasperatedly. 

Regulus paused and allowed a small laugh, barely loud enough to pass as a breath.

“I was going to say that you have your father’s smile.” 

Potter’s mouth formed into a small ‘o’ and he took the scone from his plate again, shuffled in the chair, and then took a bite.

“What were they like? I haven't met many people willing to talk about them.” 

Potter’s eyes were trained on Regulus.

“Well, James was loud, and sometimes arrogant, but he made up for it with a heart of gold. And Lily was a sweet soul, but she never missed out on the chance to make a witty comment to your father.”

“What did he look like, my dad? My aunt Petunia only ever showed me one photo of my mum, but it was because I begged her and she didn't have any of Dad.”

Regulus raked his eyes over Potter again, and when he blinked he swore that James was sitting in front of him, grinning and laughing after his latest prank with the boys.

“You look just like him. Except his eyes were brown, and he was darker skinned. I’m sure I could hunt down a picture somewhere, he was rather famous around Hogwarts in our day.”

Regulus could see the mental image that the boy was piecing together. 

“They were quite the pair.” 

Potter nodded, leaning his head forward and raising an arm to wipe at his eyes. 

“Potter, I know many people have told you that you will be the one to defeat the Dark Lord.”

The boy looked up at him and wrung his hands in his lap.

“You won't do it alone, and I don’t want you to feel you have to bear the burden alone. You are a child and you cannot forget that. You are allowed help and you are allowed to focus on things other than defeating a very powerful grown adult.”

Potter nodded.

“It is incredibly unfair to put that pressure on you. You have a great destiny, it is true, but you are also a boy of just one-and-ten, and a human with a name besides The Chosen One .”

Tears were free-falling down Potter’s cheeks and his nose and eyes had reddened. 

“Now, before I keep you from your friends too long, know that you are allowed to ask me however many questions you wish. I may not always answer honestly as you are still a child and such things can wait until you are older.”

The question that followed was nowhere near what Regulus had been expecting. 

“Will you call me Harry?”

—October 31st—

Regulus rushed into the girls’ lavatory alongside McGonagall, Quirrel on his heels. The floor was flooded and the stalls were demolished, but the three children inside were intact and mostly unharmed. 

The same could not be said for the mountain troll laying on the floor, with a string of bogies running from its nose to the tip of none other than Harry Potter’s wand. 

McGonagall took ten points from Gryffindor for defeating a mountain troll without proper guidance or assistance and then immediately rewarded ten back for defeating a mountain troll without proper guidance or assistance. 

—December 25th—

Regulus Black was not the type to visit home during the holiday season. Of course, given that his only remaining family was a felon, a grumpy house elf, and a screeching portrait of his mother that scolded him for his haircut every time he walked past, that much could've been figured by anyone. 

So instead, Christmas Day found Regulus grading the final exams of the semester inside his office. The past Christmases had been quiet, as he didn't make many friends with other professors, and students found him cold and unwelcoming.

This year, however, none other than Harry came bounding into his office as a floating head, followed closely by a redheaded boy he knew to be Ronald Weasley in a home-made sweater. 

Ronald was quiet in any class where Harry wasn't, or so he’d heard from other professors. Regulus had simply assumed that years of living in his elder brother’s shadows had made him docile and respectful, though it turned out to just be a severe shyness that was shoved away whenever Harry was in the room.

Otherwise, he was chaotic and the two of them pulled rather immature practical jokes, though he supposed they weren’t so immature for eleven-year-olds. 

It reminded Regulus too much of his brother’s friends, dancing on tabletops and hexing older students. 

Now, though, he was far more intrigued by the fact that Harry, excited as he was, had no body. He was but a floating head bouncing around Regulus’s office, and Ronald had stopped next to the door as Harry started to shout over and over, “Professor, look! It was my dad’s!” 

It clicked, when Harry said that. Once, when Regulus was only a fourth year, he'd caught the four friends squeezing under James’s invisibility cloak, their ankles just barely covered as disembodied feet roamed the halls. He'd reached for the cloak and revealed them all, resulting in his brother laughing in his face when he’d threatened to tell a professor they were out of bed. 

Sirius had hit him with the realization that Regulus also had been out of bed, and that his report to whichever professor had been his favorite at the time would go kaput and he would join them in detention. 

Regulus could no longer remember why he’d been out of bed that night anyway. 

“Professor, I’m invisible!” 

“I see that,” Regulus smiled at Harry, still practically running circles around his desk, before roving his eyes over to Ronald. 

He was tucking himself against the doorframe and his eyes were frantically switching between his friend and Regulus. 

“Ronald, correct?”

Ronald’s eyes flicked down towards his shoes. “It's just Ron, sir. No one but me mum calls me Ronald.” 

“Ah, my apologies, Ron.”

Harry stopped running circles and went to stand next to Ron. “He knew my parents.”

Regulus smiled again, helpless to the fact that his relation to Harry’s father was becoming less and less of a secret. It was one friend, though, so he supposed he didn't mind. 

Ron’s eyes widened and he looked back at Regulus, who was moving to restack several graded exams. 

“How did you know them?”

“He went to school with them,” Harry answered eagerly, before Regulus could say anything.

“But Harry, surely you've noticed he's younger than your parents would've been.”

Harry took a moment to think, before glancing back up at Regulus with a quizzical look. 

“I was two years younger, yes. I didn't know them directly until later in my Hogwarts years.”

“And you’re a Slytherin,” Ron commented. 

Regulus nodded. “My brother was not. He was much closer to your parents.” 

“Your brother?” Harry asked, moving closer to lean on the desk. “Who was he? Have I heard of him?”

Regulus sighed. Sirius… was not a topic he wanted to cover today. The two hadn't even spoken since the elder had graduated, approximately sixteen years ago. 

Regulus had highly mixed feelings on his brother’s standing. He’d grown up with the man, watched him stand in front of every unforgivable curse, watched him dance on the tables in the great hall and laugh and curse at the howlers he received from their mother, he’d known him. 

Or at least, he had thought he did. 

But then October of 1981 arrived and everyone was throwing names and obscenities at his brother as if they had been there for every Christmas, every New Years, every school year of his life. As if they could say anything of Sirius Black’s life.

Sirius was not a coward, nor was he a traitor. Well, not one to the side that mattered. Mother would disagree.

“Professor?” 

Regulus looked back up at Harry and Ron. The two boys were staring at him in concern, as if he'd just crumbled into a corner, shivering. 

It wasn't entirely untrue, the hand that was holding his cup was shaking so bad it was sloshing the tea around inside it. Regulus set the cup onto its saucer and attempted to compose himself. He cleared his throat. 

“I’ll tell you when you're older.”

Later that break, Regulus went home. He entered his brother's room, untouched by time, and made a beeline for the box which he knew to hold the photos Sirius and his friends had taken prior to their sixth year. 

He searched through, only taking the ones containing James, or Lily, or the two of them, and returned to Hogwarts with a collection.

—June 5th—

When Regulus entered the hospital wing, Professor Dumbledore was just leaving, a Bertie Bott’s jelly bean in hand as he gave Regulus a polite nod. Harry himself, tucked in between three hospital blankets, was surrounded by boxes of sweets and candies as if he'd raided Honeydukes.  

“Professor!” Harry grinned from the bed. 

Regulus smiled back at him. “You've been through quite the ordeal, or so I've heard. How are you feeling?”

“Fine, Professor.”

“I see you've acquired a collection. How will you ever eat them all?”

Harry’s smile widened and he reached for a chocolate frog from the side table. “I’ll probably need some help,” he said, handing it to Regulus.

—June 23rd—

Regulus knocked on the door to the gamekeeper’s hut, though he hardly finished before it opened.

Hagrid looked down at him and smiled when he realized who it was. “Professor Black, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, accent thick and voice booming.

“I’ve heard you are putting together a scrapbook for Harry. I have plenty of photos to add, if you run short on them.”

—July 31st—

“ Dear Harry, 

I wish you a happy twelfth birthday and hope that your summer is treating you well. Enclosed in this envelope is a photograph of your father  that I discovered amongst my old school things. On the back you’ll find its date and description. 

I look forward to seeing back at school in September, 

Professor Regulus A. Black

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry ”

Chapter Text

—September 1st—

“You were seen. By no less than seven muggles,” Regulus hissed, shoving the newspaper article back onto his desk. “Do you two have any idea how serious this is?” 

“You’re not going to expel us, are you, Professor?” Ron mumbled, looking at his shoes. 

Regulus inhaled. “Even if that were under my authority, no. Believe me, if it were, there would be some very severe consequences for your actions today.”

“However,” cut in a new voice. “As head of Gryffindor house, it is for Professor McGonagall to determine the appropriate action.” 

Regulus straightened and stood from his seat. “Headmaster. Minerva,” he nodded to the woman who once taught him in his own days in these halls. 

Ron looked briefly back up at the three adults, and then back at his shoes. “We’ll go get our stuff, then.” 

“What are you talking about, Mr. Weasley?”

Regulus felt a pang of sympathy watching Harry and Ron’s faces as McGonagall spoke. He'd seen similar expressions on his brother and James’ faces before, after a failed prank, or a scuffle with Severus. 

“You’re going to expel us, aren't you?” Harry asked, swallowing. 

“Not today, Mr. Potter.”

Regulus breathed a sigh of relief, as did the boys.

“But I must impress on both of you the seriousness of what you have done. I will be writing to your families tonight, and you will both receive detention.” 

The boys nodded, an as they exited Regulus’s office, Harry spared him one last glance. Regulus returned a half-meaningful glare, and then a smile of warning. 

—September 2nd—

Regulus didn't miss the little first year who approached Harry at breakfast, snapping a quick photo with his shiny and obviously brand new camera. 

He also didn't miss the way Harry flinched at the bright light. Wouldn't turn out to be a good picture, then, would it? 

Just as Regulus began to hide his smirk behind his dinner roll, the Weasley owl flew into the Great Hall and landed ungracefully in a bowl of chips. 

He recognized the letter the owl was holding, and gripped his fork tighter. Memories of standing inside his dorm room, surrounded by people he called friends; Barty Crouch Jr, Evan Rosier, even Lucius Malfoy, who was far older than even Sirius. 

Memories of shakily tearing open the red letters sent by his mother, to hear her shrill, livid voice echoing around the stone. His friends giggling at him about whatever it was he'd done wrong this time. 

“ Ronald Weasley! ”

The voice of Molly Weasley broke through the wave of memories rushing towards him and brought him dizzily back to the present. 

“ How dare you steal that car?! I am absolutely disgusted! Your father is now facing inquiries at work, and it is entirely your fault ! If you step another toe out of line, we’ll bring you straight home! ”

Regulus couldn't help but smile as the howler then turned away from Ron and towards his sister, Ginny. 

“ Oh, and Ginny dear, congratulations on making Gryffindor. Your father and I are so proud. ”

Then, the red letter turned back to Ron and let out one final blow of its tongue before tearing itself to shreds all over the plate of chips that the Weasley owl had desecrated not thirty seconds ago. 

—September 3rd—

“Harry. It's good to see you.” 

The twelve-year old grinned at him from the doorway to his office. 

“You too, Professor.”

“I trust you got my card?” Regulus took the kettle of tea and poured a cup for Harry. He set it in front of a stack of papers he’d yet to grade as Harry took a seat in front of him. 

The boy looked briefly confused. 

“For your birthday?”

A look of understanding crossed Harry’s face. 

“I didn't get any letters at all over the break. There was a- a house elf, named Dobby, who kept them from me. That's part of what I wanted to tell you about.” 

Dobby. The name sounded familiar. He remembered hearing it somewhere, it was on the tip of his tongue. 

“Then I suppose you'd better start talking.”

—September 14th—

“Everyone… will proceed to their dormitories immediately. Everyone except-” Dumbledore got out before everyone could escape the hall. “You three.” 

Harry, Ron, and their friend Hermione all paused and turned back to face the professors with matching grimaces on their faces. 

The rest of the students that were crowded around the scene exited the corridor as quietly as was possible for near fifty students between the ages of eleven and seventeen. 

Once the hallway had been cleared, Dumbledore spoke again. “She’s not dead, Argus,” he said, referring to Filch’s cat, hanging from a post on the wall next to the bloody writing. “She has been petrified.”

There it was. Regulus exchanged a look with Professor Sprout, knowing exactly what would have to happen.

Before Filch or anyone else could even begin to respond, Lockhart opened his mouth and let out an unconvincing, “Ah, thought so. So unlucky I wasn't there; I know exactly the countercurse that could have spared her.” 

Regulus held back every know-it-all muscle in his body when Lockhart said that. There was no counter-curse to permanent petrification, not like a simple Petrificus-Totalus. 

“But how she's been petrified, I cannot say.”

“Ask ‘im,” Filch cut in once again. “It's ‘im that's done it. You saw what ‘e wrote on the wall.” 

“It's not true, sir, I swear!” Harry exclaimed, half to Dumbledore, and half to Regulus, his eyes flicking between them. “I never touched Mrs. Norris.” 

“Rubbish.” 

This was getting far too out of hand. Filch looked like he wanted to hex Harry to death, and while Regulus was certain that Dumbledore would not allow that to happen, Regulus didn't particularly want to see Harry standing there looking like fish food any longer, and he also hated the thought that Harry would ever do such a thing. 

“Perhaps,” Regulus cut in, “Mr. Potter was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

“He wasn't at dinner,” Ms. Granger cut in. “That's why we went looking for him. We'd just found him when he said…” 

The three students turned to look at each other, and Regulus was forced to wonder what the bloody hell Harry had gotten himself into this time. 

“Yes, Ms. Granger?” McGonagall pushed. 

One more glance was exchanged between the trio before Harry swallowed and said, as confidently as he could, given the situation, “When I said I wasn't hungry.”

A lie. Harry was lying to them. 

“We were heading back to the common room when we found Mrs. Norris.” 

It was only a matter of seconds before Filch had started grumbling again, words which crescendoed into a shout, something about wanting some punishment. 

“Guilty until proven innocent, Argus. We will be able to cure her. As I understand it, Madame Sprout has a very healthy growth of Mandrake. When they are mature enough, she and Professor Black will be able to make a potion, which will revive Mrs. Norris.” 

Filch looked like he wanted to argue, but Regulus supposed that was simply his face. 

“And in the meantime,” Dumbledore continued, “I strongly recommend caution… to all.”

—October 12th—

Regulus had always enjoyed watching the Quidditch games, even as a first year watching the great James Potter cruising through on his Cleansweep 4, catching the snitch with practiced ease. 

Now, it was his son, only twelve years old and yet the fastest on the field. James would be proud. 

Regulus was watching from the Slytherin box, and none other than Lucius Malfoy was sitting three rows below him. He was smirking proudly, and Regulus knew why, for his own son was racing just behind Harry. 

Suddenly the two came to a stop far above the field, and Regulus could see the young Malfoy heir shout something to Harry. 

His cousin was a bully, he knew, not that he could claim differently for his own school days, but this time it was Harry who was the target, and his friends. Not to mention the fact that becoming a teacher at Hogwarts and befriending those such as Minerva and Sprout had taught him a lifelong lesson; dignity and kindness. 

A bludger raced for Harry’s head and Regulus’s heart began to race in his chest. Harry saw it, though, and ducked just in time for it to pass him and make an attempt for Harry’s teammate, Oliver Wood. 

Harry shouted at him, and Wood moved his body out of the way, only for the bludger to hit the front end of his broomstick, shattering it and sending Wood flying. 

The bludger continued around until it was once again aimed at Harry. The boy raced forward out of his still position, flying fast away from the rogue ball, but it was just as fast, tearing through the fabrics covering the audience posts as if nothing could possibly slow it down. 

Regulus stood from his seat to see better, and watched as Harry and the Malfoy boy dove down underneath the pitch. 

No one could see them, now, but bangs and crashes could be heard all the way from the teachers’ boxes. Out of nowhere, Malfoy came flying out of the pitch and landed straight on his arse. Regulus could see Lucius grimace, as if embarrassed. 

This was Cissy’s son, his son, and all he could manage to show that he cared for his well being was an eye roll. 

Harry came flying soon after him, thought, and Regulus couldn't be bothered to keep his eyes on Lucius or his son, instead watching a glint less than a foot from Harry’s hand, reaching for it. 

The bludger came out of nowhere again, but this time, Harry didn't notice in time to dodge. It went straight through his arm and continued around. 

Regulus winced as Harry held his arm to his chest and reached the other out for the snitch. There was nothing but his legs stopping him from falling off his broom. 

What happened next what a blur, the bludger coming back around and bumping into the back end of Harry’s broom, sending him falling to the pitch and landing into the sand. Then Lee Jordan was calling into the mic, “Harry Potter has caught the snitch! Gryffindor wins!” 

The next thing Regulus knew, he was making his way down the stairs towards the twelve year-old, who was now surrounded by friends and teachers, with Lockhart at his side, holding his arm.

It was limp, and floppy. 

“...that can sometimes happen, but the point is…” Lockhart defended, folding Harry’s forearm backwards. “You can no longer feel any pain and very clearly the bones are not broken.” 

“Broken?! There's no bones left!” Hagrid exclaimed, gesturing wildly to the fact that Harry’s arm was bent like a Zonko’s toy. 

—November 21st—

Harry spoke parseltongue. It did not bode well for his innocence, given that half the school already thought he was the heir of the Slytherin, the one who petrified both Mrs. Norris and Colin Creevey. 

The mandrakes were still maturing. Regulus had all other ingredients for the potion in his stores, there was nothing left to do but wait.

—January 17th—

Harry’s friend, Hermione, had been petrified, alongside two others. Regulus hoped that the Mandrakes would grow out of the acne quickly.

—March 3rd—

“As you can see,” Minerva said, her voice shaky as they raced down to the second floor corridor, “The heir of Slytherin has left another message.” 

Regulus took longer than necessary to process the writing on the wall. 

“ Her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever… ”

“Our worst fear has been realized, a student has been taken by the monster into the chamber itself. The students must be sent home. I'm afraid this is the end of Hogwarts.” 

Regulus was watching Minerva's expression as the teachers in the hall read through the message again. The letters were dripping with fresh blood. 

He rolled his eyes, however, when Lockhart came bounding down the hallway. “So sorry, dozed off. What have I missed?” he asked, with a goofy smile on his face as he bounced on the balls of his feet. 

“Your moment has come at last, Gilderoy.”

Lockhart looked around between Regulus and the other professors. 

“Sorry?”

Regulus uncrossed his hands from his back and then recrossed them at his front, stepping towards the boastful bastard and raising a brow. “Weren't you saying just the other day that you’ve known exactly where the entrance to the chamber is all along?” 

He took great pride in the look on Lockhart’s face. 

The prat ran off, mumbling something about “getting ready”. 

In turn, Regulus looked to Minerva and Poppy. 

“Who was taken?” 

The two women exchanged a look. 

It was Ron's younger sister. Pangs of sympathy echoed in his chest every time he thought of it.

—March 4th—

Regulus had not held a true conversation with Lucius Malfoy since before he'd stolen the locket. 

Now, though, he was met with his old schoolmate’s silvering blonde hair and narrow grey eyes. 

“Really, Black. I'd expected more from you than your groveling at Dumbledore’s feet.”

Regulus huffed a laugh, the corner of his mouth turning up in a resentful smirk. 

“I’d expected better from you than threatening people to get your way, though I suppose not much has changed since school.” 

Malfoy left in a huff, without his house-elf by his side. His hair was mussed and his clothes were covered in a fine layer of dust .

He entered Dumbledore’s office feeling slightly as if he'd won the lottery, seeing Lucius so out of his element. 

“It’s a Horcrux,” Regulus muttered, staring at where the diary had left splotches of ink over the desk. He couldn't help but slide his gaze of the sword of Godric Gryffindor, covered in both the Basilisk's blood and Harry’s.

“Yes,” Albus whispered. “And there are many more.”

Later, when Regulus went to visit Harry in the hospital wing after his check-up with Poppy, the boy was staring wistfully down at his hands.

“I met him.” 

Regulus didn't need to ask. Harry had met - had trusted - the man that had killed his parents. In doing so, however, he'd furthered their chances of winning this war, of ending the Dark Lord’s reign of terror once and for all. 

—July 31st—

“ Dear Harry,

Happy Birthday. I hope this letter finds you on time this year. Once again, I look forward to seeing you at the start of term. 

Please don't go searching for trouble.

Sincerely,

Professor Regulus A. Black

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy ”