The Silent Regulus

In the autumn of 1962, Regulus was one and a half years old, and Sirius was three.

Sirius's side of the nursery had already become a complete mess. Toy Broomstick parts, biting Magic Spinning Tops, and a box of goblin-made metal puzzles were scattered across the floor.

Regulus's corner, meanwhile, was always tidy. A few picture books and an immobile Plush Kneazle sat on a dark blue rug. It had once been able to move, but Sirius had broken it.

That afternoon, Kreacher was using magic to clean the windows, but his ears were pricked as he listened to the two young masters, and he kept a watchful eye on them from the corner of his vision.

That was because Sirius had just brought out a Miniature Broom from Orion's Study. It was a scaled-down model of a real broomstick, a teaching tool used to demonstrate the principles of the Levitation Charm.

"Watch closely, Regulus!" Sirius loudly called for Regulus's attention. "This is a broomstick! A real wizard's broomstick! I can make it float!"

He placed the broomstick on the rug, stepped back two paces, and took a deep breath. His little face began turning red from the effort.

"Up!" he shouted, raising both hands in a lifting motion.

The broomstick twitched slightly. One end rose at an angle of perhaps five degrees before dropping back into place.

"Up! Up!" Sirius tried twice more. This time, the broomstick rolled half a turn where it lay, but it still did not fly.

Kreacher held his breath. He knew the broomstick had been enchanted with a Restriction Charm. Only someone who understood that the Levitation Charm required imagining weight vanishing could activate it.

This was a tool Orion used to test a child's understanding of magic. Sirius thought he had stolen it, but that had been Orion's intention all along.

Sirius clearly did not understand yet.

"Why won't it work?" he huffed, kicking the rug. "Father can make it fly!"

At that moment, Regulus moved. He climbed up from the rug, a little faster than usual, walked over to the broomstick, and plopped down beside it.

Sirius looked at him and curled his lip in boredom. "You want to try too? You can't even talk."

Regulus ignored him. He merely raised his right index finger and held it above the broomstick.

Then he lowered his fingertip slightly, and the broomstick slowly rose with it. When it reached Regulus's eye level, it hovered motionlessly in the air.

Sirius's mouth fell open, and the rag Kreacher had been controlling dropped to the floor.

With a gentle press of Regulus's finger, the broomstick slowly descended and returned to its original spot, precisely where it had been before.

Sirius stammered, "Y-you... how did you...?"

He could not understand it at all. Why could his little brother do something he could not?

Regulus turned his head and spoke the first complete sentence of his life in a childish yet clear voice. "Think, then do."

"Think about what?" Sirius asked instinctively.

"Think it is light." Regulus pointed at the broomstick. "Do not think it is heavy."

"But it is heavy!"

"Think it is not."

"How is that possible?"

Regulus tilted his head, seemingly considering how to explain it. Then he patted the rug beside him and told Sirius, "Sit."

Sirius obediently sat down, completely overlooking the fact that his little brother could suddenly speak so clearly.

Regulus picked up a Fallen Leaf that had drifted in through the window, placed it in his palm, and said, "It is light."

"Right."

"Think it is heavy."

Sirius stared at the leaf and tried hard to imagine it as heavy as a stone.

But nothing happened.

"No." Regulus seemed to know exactly what Sirius was thinking. "Do not think, 'It is as heavy as something.' Forget that it is light, and then it is heavy."

Sirius frowned. It was too abstract. He had never imagined things that way before. He scratched his head, his face full of confusion.

Regulus unsteadily got to his feet and returned to his own corner, leaving Sirius to wrestle with himself alone.

He had already finished teaching him, but such understanding was still too early for three-year-old Sirius.

Regulus was different. When it came to comprehension and insight, age had never been a limitation.

After dinner, Orion summoned Kreacher to the Study.

"That Teaching Broomstick." Sitting behind the Desk, Orion frowned as he asked, "Regulus made it float?"

"Y-yes, Master." Kreacher nervously twisted the Tea Towel in his hands. "Young Master Regulus made it fly. One foot, very steadily."

"He spoke?"

"He said a few things." Kreacher repeated what Regulus had said to Sirius.

After hearing it, Orion remained silent for a long time. The Ancestral Portraits on the Study walls pretended to look elsewhere, but all their ears were pricked.

"From now on," Orion finally said, "whatever Regulus wants to do, let him do it as long as it is not dangerous. But watch him, record everything, and report to me every day before dinner."

"Yes, Master!"

In December 1963, 12 Grimmauld Place was preparing for Christmas.

Sirius Black's fourth birthday had passed just a month earlier, and he was at the age when he believed he was the greatest in the entire world.

Standing in the middle of the Living room with his hands on his hips, he declared to a half-decorated Christmas tree, "I'm going to make the bells on the tree ring by themselves!"

Walburga leaned out from the second floor. "Sirius, stop causing trouble. Kreacher, hang the Silver Ball higher. It was too low last year, and Andromeda nearly bumped her head on it."

"Yes, Mistress." Kreacher extended his long Fingers and controlled the Silver Ball as it rose a little higher.

Regulus sat on the thick rug by the Fireplace, as quiet as a fern in the corner.

The soul from another world had spent three years in this body. He had long accepted reality. This was a magical world, and he was Regulus Black, the tragic character who died young in the original story.

But he had no intention of replaying that tragedy. He had greater goals: the Starry sky, the universe, realms the original story had never touched.

As for Sirius?

Let him do as he pleases, Regulus thought. He'll become a champion of justice in the end, a hero who fights Voldemort.

As long as I stay alive, the Black family's resources will be my stepping stone. There's no need to contend with a four-year-old child.

"Regulus! Watch closely!" Sirius's voice pulled him back to reality.

Sirius took a deep breath and fixed his eyes on a golden bell at the top of the tree. His little face flushed red again as he made a grabbing motion with both hands.

Magic Power began to surge.

"Move!" Sirius shouted.

Regulus's Magic Perception was exceptionally sharp, as though he possessed an extra sensory system. He could see Sirius's Magic Power churning—and about to spiral out of control.

Bang!

The entire Christmas tree began shaking violently.

The Stars ornament at the top fell and struck Kreacher on the head. The hanging Candy Canes collided with each other, while the glass baubles clinked and rattled.

A string of Magic Fairy Lights at the tip of the tree, which changed color on their own, suddenly began flashing madly, as rapidly as a seizure.

"Stop! Stop!" Walburga rushed down the stairs.

But it was too late.

Sirius had been frightened by his own Magic Power. He wanted to stop, but he could not. The young child's face was full of panic as he waved his hands helplessly, which only made the output of his Magic Power more unstable.

Boom!

The three floor-to-ceiling windows on the east side of the Living room exploded at once.

Shards of glass blasted outward, fortunately colliding with the Protective Charm and slowing to a halt. Otherwise, the entire street outside would have suffered.

The chandelier swayed wildly, its Crystal pendants striking one another with piercing shrieks.

"Ah!"

The Portraits screamed in unison. Phineas Nigellus shouted the loudest. "Barbarian! The Black family has indeed fallen!"

Walburga raised her wand, and a powerful Calming Charm struck Sirius.

He staggered back several steps before falling onto the floor, staring blankly at his own hands.

Walburga's expression was quite something. First came anger, but then came even greater pride.

"Your Magic Power is abundant," she said in a strange tone. "But your aim was wrong. Next time, point it at something useless, like those ugly vases your father collects."

Sirius blinked, not understanding. He had thought he would be scolded.

Regulus closed his book.

This was the trouble with wizard cubs. He sighed. Their Magic Power fluctuated with their Emotional Fluctuations, like a pressure cooker without a safety valve, ready to explode at any time.

Kreacher began cleaning up the mess. Walburga gave Sirius a complicated look, then turned and went back upstairs.

Sirius sat on the rug, looking at his hands, then at the shattered windows, and finally at Regulus.

"I did it," he said softly.

Regulus nodded. "Impressive."