Chapter 47: Resolving the Conflict
Regulus walked to the front row and stopped beside Narcissa.
A sixth year from the Nott family gave a derisive snort.
"Black," he muttered, "there's no place for you here, little boy."
Regulus did not dignify him with a glance. He simply filed the name away.
Across the corridor, Frank Longbottom's wand was already raised. The tip began to glow with the opening movement of Expelliarmus.
Almost at the same instant, Lucretius Boke lifted his own hand.
They were about to cast.
Regulus moved first.
His right hand flicked his wand, and a wave of invisible force snapped into Frank Longbottom's wand like a slap of pressure. It was not a spell, not in any proper sense. It was a pulse of interference, crude but effective, timed to disrupt the rhythm of an incantation. Frank's casting broke. The light at the wand tip winked out at once.
The technique was not especially elegant. Any experienced adult wizard could have countered it. It was, however, perfectly suited to inexperienced students.
At the same time, Regulus's left hand came down on Lucretius Boke's wrist.
Lucretius had been about to cast when the wrist was pressed down without warning. He tried to wrench free on instinct, but the grip was like iron.
It was not merely strength. Something stranger ran through the contact. Lucretius felt the flow of his magic pinch shut at the source. His entire arm went numb in an instant, his wand almost slipping from his fingers.
He turned sharply, shock written across his face.
Regulus did not look at him. He turned his gaze instead to Narcissa.
His goal was simple. Prevent an inter house brawl before it ignited. Any spell would be a trigger, so he chose interference and suppression instead.
Narcissa was just about to draw her wand when her eyes met his. Regulus gave the slightest shake of his head.
Narcissa's wrist stilled. She did not move again.
The entire sequence took only moments. Both sides of the corridor froze, stunned.
Everyone had seen Regulus move. They had also seen both prefects abruptly stop as if a single unseen hand had seized the corridor's throat.
No one understood what they had just witnessed.
On the Gryffindor side, Frank Longbottom stared at his wand, then at Regulus, disbelief tightening his face.
On the Slytherin side, Lucretius was still flexing against the numbness in his arm, eyes hard, jaw set.
James Potter, unable to see clearly through the bodies, was still shouting from the crowd.
"Despicable tactics, you snakes."
Sirius joined in, bouncing on his feet like a man trying to start a riot with enthusiasm alone.
"No honour at all."
"Shut up," Frank Longbottom snapped, not taking his eyes off Regulus. "Who are you."
Regulus released Lucretius's wrist.
"Regulus Black," he said. His posture was restrained, yet the corridor seemed to lean around him. "First year."
"First year." Frank frowned, his attention flicking to Lucretius and Narcissa behind Regulus.
Two seventh year prefects were letting a first year step into the centre.
Frank certainly knew the name. Most students did by now. What he could not grasp was how a first year had just interrupted his casting and stopped a Slytherin prefect as though the older boy's wand arm belonged to someone else.
Lucretius flexed his wrist again, grim, still saying nothing.
Narcissa took half a step forward, positioning herself slightly behind Regulus's side. It could have been support. It could have been protection. Either way, it was deliberate.
Regulus looked back to Frank.
"Prefect Longbottom. Madam Hooch's ruling has already taken effect. If Gryffindor disputes the referee's decision, you follow the proper process. You do not start a fight here."
Then he turned his head, letting his words carry to both sides at once.
"As for the fouls during the match, the referee issued warnings. Competing for victory within permitted rules is part of the sport. If you believe the rules are flawed, you push for changes or you adapt. Retaliation after the match is undignified."
James opened his mouth, but Frank raised a hand, stopping him without even looking back.
Frank studied Regulus for several seconds, then spoke at last.
"You're right. This should go to the professors."
He put away his wand.
One by one, Gryffindors behind him followed suit, though their glares stayed sharp.
At that moment, Professor McGonagall and Professor Slughorn arrived.
They forced their way through the crowd, and both visibly exhaled when they realised the corridor had not erupted.
McGonagall's eyes swept both houses like a blade.
"Everyone. Back to your common rooms. Now. Prefects, keep your houses in check."
Slughorn, meanwhile, approached Regulus with an approving smile spreading across his round face.
"Handled very well, Mr Black. Neither Slytherin nor Gryffindor should be making such a spectacle over a match."
Regulus bowed slightly.
"I simply did not want the situation to escalate, Professor."
"A wise approach," Slughorn said, patting his shoulder. Then he looked to Lucretius and Narcissa. "Take the Slytherins back."
The corridor began to loosen as students withdrew, the tension draining away in reluctant increments.
As Regulus turned, he felt a gaze.
He looked up toward the staff table.
Dumbledore was still seated, watching from a distance. Behind his half moon spectacles, his expression was unreadable.
Regulus did not linger. He withdrew his eyes and walked away.
The Slytherin crowd parted automatically.
This time it was not only younger students. Even older ones stepped aside.
Some looked displeased but held their tongues. Some watched with furrowed brows, thinking. Some simply watched, as if trying to decide what kind of creature a first year had revealed himself to be.
Avery, Hermes, and Alex fell in behind him.
Avery leaned closer, voice low.
"Regulus, just now you…"
"We'll talk back there," Regulus cut in.
Only once the crowd had fully dispersed did Professor Slughorn and Professor McGonagall exchange a look, each reading something in the other's face.
Slughorn watched the direction Regulus had gone, admiration plain.
"Minerva, it was brilliant, wasn't it."
McGonagall's lips tightened slightly.
"Mr Black resolved it efficiently," she said, and there was a thread of concern beneath the praise. "But he is only a first year. It is far too early."
She remembered Dumbledore saying Regulus had no interest in power. Yet great strength combined with influence became power, whether the boy sought it or not.
In other houses, that might be harmless.
In Slytherin, it was not.
"Minerva," Slughorn said with a soft chuckle, "some people are simply born to be extraordinary."
McGonagall did not answer at once. She decided she would speak with Dumbledore later, properly, about Mr Black.
"Perhaps," she said at last.
That night, in the Slytherin common room, the fire burned bright, green flames casting shifting shadows across stone.
Most students spoke in low voices about the match. They had won, but it was not a victory that satisfied everyone. Many were irritated with Regulus, not because he had endangered them, but because he had denied them the brawl they had wanted.
Yet with Regulus's current momentum, and the power he had displayed in public, no one had come to demand an explanation.
Regulus sat alone on a sofa, an untitled book resting on his knees.
He was practising the Constant Shield Charm. He had passed the beginner stage already. His defensive ability was substantial.
Around nine, Lucretius approached.
He sat on the sofa opposite Regulus. For several seconds, he said nothing. Then he spoke, and the pride in his tone was muted compared to their first meeting.
"About today," Lucretius said quietly. "When you held my wrist. How did you do it."
Regulus leaned back, eyes steady.
"It was just a little trick."
"A little trick." Lucretius raised his right hand and flexed his wrist again.
"It's still numb. The flow of my magic is not smooth. I spent all afternoon thinking about it. I even asked Professor Slughorn. He said it was a very sophisticated technique. Direct magical interference through physical contact."
Lucretius's voice dropped further, meant only for Regulus.
"But you're a first year. How did you do it."
Lucretius stared at him with an intensity that was almost desperate, as though he could force the answer into existence.
Regulus met the stare without flinching.
Lucretius Boke, eldest son of the Boke family, would one day inherit Borgin and Burkes, the shop that traded in objects that belonged to both the respectable and the unspeakable sides of the wizarding world. Families like that survived by staying ambiguous. They emerged unscathed when others burned.
Regulus did not underestimate the name.
He did, however, recognise that Lucretius was still young.
"Everyone has their areas of expertise," Regulus said, his tone mild, his answer sounding sincere while revealing nothing. "My control is precise."
"Precise enough to intercept someone else's magic flow," Lucretius repeated, disbelief hardening his face. "Even my father can't do that."
"Perhaps your father simply has not shown you," Regulus said.
Lucretius fell silent.
Then he gave a short, self mocking smile.
"Fine. If you don't want to say, I won't keep asking."
He straightened, expression turning serious again.
"But Black. I owe you one. If you hadn't stopped me and I'd actually fought Longbottom, McGonagall would have taken at least fifty points from Slytherin."
"A prefect leading a brawl," Regulus replied smoothly. "It would likely be more than fifty."
Lucretius's eyes narrowed slightly, as if he knew Regulus knew the truth. House points were a currency, not a conviction, and Lucretius cared about status far more than banners.
"So I owe you one," Lucretius said again.
He stood, then paused just long enough to look back before leaving.
Regulus did not react. He did not need to.
A forced debt was still a debt, and debts were useful.
He watched Lucretius walk away and calculated quietly.
The boy's attitude had shifted. Not admiration, not obedience, but a move from condescension to dialogue on equal footing.
It was a good sign.
Demonstrating power yielded rewards.