Growth and Expectations

In July 1972, Sirius Black finished his first year at Hogwarts and returned to 12 Grimmauld Place.

He had changed a great deal.

Not only had he grown his hair long, but he also wore Muggle jeans and T-shirts he had learned about from James Potter. He looked nothing like a Pureblood Wizard should.

"James said Quidditch should allow some harmless prank spells to make it more fun," he said casually over dinner.

Walburga set down her knife and fork. "James? That child from the Potter family? I recall their bloodline being fairly pure, but their taste..."

"Their taste is excellent," Sirius interrupted. "At least people in their family know how to speak like human beings, instead of droning on all day about Glory, bloodlines, and responsibility."

The air at the table abruptly froze.

Regulus quietly cut the roast fish on his plate while watching Sirius.

There was something bright in Sirius's eyes, a light that had never appeared at Grimmauld Place. Perhaps it was freedom.

He knew Sirius was about to leave this family.

"And Remus," Sirius continued, as though he had not noticed his mother's expression. "He's practically a living Library. He knows every detail of History of Magic that the teachers never covered. Peter's a little timid, but he's a good person..."

"Enough!" Walburga's voice was icy. "I don't want to hear trivialities about your friends. Where is your Hogwarts report card?"

"Upstairs. Passed every subject, Outstanding in Flying Class, Acceptable in Defense Against the Dark Arts." Sirius shrugged, utterly unconcerned by his mother's attitude. "Good enough."

"Good enough?" Walburga rose to her feet, enraged. "The Heir of the Black family should earn Outstanding in every subject! He should become a Prefect! He should—"

"I'm not the heir." Sirius also stood, confronting his mother head-on. "Regulus is. You chose him long ago, didn't you?"

He looked at his younger brother. Regulus met his gaze without speaking.

"Look at him." Sirius pointed at Regulus. "He sits perfectly straight. Even cutting fish looks like he's conducting a Potion experiment. He's already prepared to become the kind of Black you want, so let me go, all right?"

He turned and left the dining room. Walburga wanted to chase after him, but Orion pressed down on her hand.

"Let him go," Orion said. "Some words, once spoken, cannot be taken back."

He had foreseen this day years ago. Regulus had played no small part in it, but he had never stopped it.

Regulus finished his dinner, then went upstairs. At the turn of the staircase, he encountered Sirius leaning against the wall, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans as he looked out at the dim street beyond the window.

"Do you think I went too far?" Sirius asked without turning around.

"I think you're very happy." Regulus shook his head lightly.

Sirius froze for a moment, then turned to look at him.

"At Hogwarts, I am very happy," Sirius admitted. "Gryffindor Tower is always noisy. Someone is always doing something stupid. Someone is always laughing. It isn't like this place—"

He looked around the dark Corridor. "Like a magnificent tomb."

"There are treasures in tombs too," Regulus hinted. "If you know how to find them."

Every tragedy began with a lack of power, yet Sirius had never considered seeking power, right up until his death.

"I don't want treasures from a tomb." Sirius shook his head. "I want a life beneath the sun, even if it is brief."

He looked at his brother. "Do you know what's most ridiculous? James's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Potter, are Pureblood Wizards too, but they don't go around talking about bloodlines all day.

"They care whether James is happy, whether he has made friends, whether he is learning things that interest him—not whether he can uphold the family's Glory."

Regulus fell silent. He knew it was true. Though the Potter family was pure-blooded, they had always been portrayed as open-minded and normal in the original story.

"So you have a home now," Regulus said with a touch of emotion.

Sirius's expression softened. "Yes. I have a home now."

Then his face hardened again. "But you wouldn't understand. You've already chosen this place."

He returned to his room, and the door closed softly behind him.

Regulus stood in the Corridor, listening to Walburga's faint complaints to Orion drifting up from downstairs.

I understand, but I would not make the same choice. Your home is Gryffindor, the Potter family—but how long can they protect you? And can you protect your home?

When Voldemort truly rises, when the war begins, when your Muggle-born friends become targets, you will of course choose to resist.

Sadly, you have no power. You cannot protect anything.

He shook his head, stopped thinking about it, and returned to his room.

At the end of July, Orion set up a simple dueling ground in the backyard to assess Regulus's practical combat ability.

"Hogwarts is more than a school," he said. "There is competition, conflict, and hidden struggles there. You need to know how to protect yourself."

"The Rules: only non-harmful spells. Begin."

Orion did not go easy on his eleven-year-old opponent. Raising his wand, he fired the first Silent Disarming Charm, swift and precise, straight at Regulus's wrist.

Regulus neither dodged nor drew a wand. He merely raised his left hand and opened his palm.

The red spell struck an invisible barrier half a meter away from him, scattering silver sparks.

Shield Charm without wand or incantation.

Orion's eyebrows rose. He continued his attack: Impedimenta, Leglocker Curse, Petrificus Totalus. Spells flew in from different angles, increasing in frequency.

Regulus still did not move. He stood where he was, his arms hanging naturally at his sides, only occasionally adjusting the angle of his Fingers. Every spell was intercepted with precision just before it hit him. Some were deflected, some dissipated, and some were absorbed.

He had not even used a single Shield Charm to cover his entire body. That would consume too much power and could easily be broken by sustained attacks.

Instead, he continuously cast multiple miniature Shield Charms, generating them instantly where needed and dismissing them the instant they had served their purpose.

Thirty seconds later, Orion stopped.

"You're directly controlling Magic Power with your mind, skipping the Spellcasting process." His voice was filled with astonishment.

His usually steady tone could no longer hold. Even among elite Aurors, few could accomplish such a technique.

And his Second son, only eleven years old, could already wield it with ease.

"Yes." Regulus nodded. "Without spells and gestures as intermediaries, the response is faster and the consumption is lower."

"Who taught you?"

"I figured it out myself," Regulus said. In truth, it was a byproduct of the Magic Guidance Cycle.

Orion was silent for a long time. He looked at his son with a complicated expression—surprise, pride, and a trace of concern.

At last, he said, "You are exceptional, Regulus. Beyond my expectations."

"Thank you." Regulus lowered his head slightly.

Orion stepped closer and patted his shoulder. "You will achieve extraordinary things. But at Hogwarts, you only need to be an excellent student. You do not need to appear unusual. Do you understand?"

"I understand." Regulus nodded. "I will control how much I reveal."

After the assessment, Orion took him to the deepest part of the Family Vault, to a more secretive Heritage Chamber. There were only a few black wooden shelves inside.

Orion took out three items.

The first was a Family Ring, silver, with the Black family crest engraved on its face. It was not the genuine ring of the Patriarch, but a replica.

"It has no Patriarch authority," Orion said, handing it to Regulus. "But it can sense the family's protective Magic. If you wear it, and another member of the Black family is at death's door, the ring will heat up. The higher the temperature, the greater the danger."

Regulus accepted the ring, knowing what it meant.

Though it held no authority, it was itself a symbol of the Patriarch, as well as an emblem of duty and responsibility. And that duty was Sirius.

The second was a Magical Notebook. Its cover was made from some kind of black leather, warm to the touch. It had no lock; only those of Black blood could open it.

"Made with the blood of the Ancestors and secret methods," Orion said. "Anything written inside will automatically be encrypted. Only the writer can fully decipher it. To others, it will appear as chaotic symbols. If someone tries to forcibly crack it, the contents will self-destruct."

This was tacit permission. Orion knew Regulus would certainly research dangerous things. He did not stop him, merely providing him with a secure tool for recording them.

The third was a Meteorite Amulet, a simple silver ornament set with a small piece of dark gray stone in its center, its surface marked by the texture of a fusion crust.

"This was brought back from Norse lands by a Black family ancestor. It is said to have come from beyond the sky. For hundreds of years, no one has discovered what magical function it possesses. It simply never gathers dust and always remains at this temperature."

Regulus accepted the amulet. The stone felt smooth and faintly warm, as though life flowed within it.

"I think it suits you," Orion said. "Because the place your eyes are looking toward is different from ours."

Finally, his father placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hogwarts is a small world, but remember: beyond this world, there are other worlds."