Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter that's property of J.K. Rowling.

AN: :D Hey y'all! On the updating schedule that no one, including the writer, understands: Creepy Pensieve chapter that you've been waiting for...for forever...is here! :D Thank you for your reviews and your patience! Reading through your comments and watching Fantastic Beasts helped get me back into the mood and thought-space for this one. I've also gone ahead and cleaned up the prior chapters somewhat. I won't promise that they're perfect, but they should read a bit more smoothly. And Chapter 2 has line breaks now WOO! I LOL'ed pretty hard at that. I was all: 'Aww, little newbie me didn't know how to do that yet. How cute. But now I need to fix it.' Hope you enjoy this latest installment!

WARNING*READER BEWARE* Semi-graphic violence and dark themes WILL be in this chap. Don't like? Don't read. Because you have free will. :D

And now that that's taken care of, onward! :D

Chapter 17: Proper Gardening

James Potter pushed his glasses up on his thin nose and ruffled his hair as a matter of nervous habit.

Even though he knew as a future Auror and best mate, he HAD to be present and willing and able to give emotional support...there was a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach. He was going to witness something terrible.

He knew it, instinctively.

And even though his career choice should've made that a given, knowing what one was going to see LATER after training wasn't the same as knowing one was about to see it NOW.

But Sirius was determined and he couldn't will himself to interfere or worse, abandon him to this task on his own.

CRACK!

A fifteen year old Snape closed his book, Shadow Spellwork: Transfiguration Techniques for the Advanced Warlock.

James frowned; it even had the subtitle and warning: "Not for the faint of heart or weak-stomached" and a skull-shaped clasp.

Snape swallowed in a way that suggested he was trying not to be nervous or unsettled—adopting that sullen look he often wore when dealing with the Marauders.

James reluctantly acknowledged that he too would've been less than thrilled by the apparition of Lucius Malfoy a mere foot from him. The blond was bad news. Always.

Should James's father mention "Malfoy," it was usually with a tone that suggested a bad aftertaste.

James glanced around; it was deep in the evening and they appeared to be in some kind of run-down muggle library. There were flimsy muggle paper chains in reds and greens and golds which meant it was likely Christmas Break.

That gave James a funny sort of jolt because judging by the homework and wracking his own memories, he remembered the Transfiguration Essay. It had been assigned in Fifth Year. Trust Snape to shoehorn Dark Arts into what should've been an easy piece comparing Transfiguration spells' evolution between two historic eras.

Fifth year...Sirius had just been settling in with him at their home.

James had been ecstatic to finally liberate his friend from his miserable homestead.

Lucius made a bored overture of greetings before he picked up one book cluttering the table and perused through its pages.

The title was: Sanguis Incorruptus and it was some manner of wizarding etiquette book and James swore he'd seen it before somewhere.

"I see Black is getting you schooled up proper." He chuckled a bit. "I know this own. There is a wonderful chapter in there for proper gardening-"

"He offered me this...yes. He's...helpful on that front," Snape replied—seemingly unsure on whether to continue.

"Well then, I daresay it's quite fitting he'll aid you in this matter too. By example." He shut the book with a snap and set it down.

"..."

"You've never experienced a 'Cleansing,' have you, Snape?" Lucius Malfoy asked. "It's something one might refer to as old fashioned...in the barbaric sense."

Snape looked up.

"I know, I know. So many manners and customs, gloves and ball gowns, and galleons and all the glamours and gloss you've come to expect of us. But practical matters are seldom genteel. And I know you don't shy from such things as other Halfbloods might."

"I have not experience a 'Cleansing.' And no...I do not."

James knew it too. He wasn't the skittish type. He couldn't afford to be considering his hobbies. Up to his eyeballs in Dark Arts. He felt his nose wrinkle in disdain. To surround oneself with things that could only cause harm and suffering...that just disgusted him.

The blond smiled. "Yes. And since you do seem sincere in your quest to better transition into wizarding society...upper echelons of wizarding society, no less. I think this would benefit you. Now, is what I've heard true? That you continue in your efforts to contact the Princes?"

"They are my family."

"Hmm. Yes, I think it is time to acquaint you to the concept of cleansing."

He almost sounded sincere, like he wanted to help Snape. James suppressed a shudder.

The "quest" led them to Number 12 Grimmauld Place; a site James knew well from various visits with Sirius, often rescuing him from the prissy parlor and his snobby parents.

James stared, neck hairs standing on end.

The gate was busted and swinging in the hard breeze, several windows were shattered, and the front door was wide open.

Snape immediately drew his wand and started up the icy walkway.

"Now, now," Lucius called from behind him. "Don't get excited. There's nothing amiss. When a Pureblood does that which cannot be forgiven, he must be pruned from his ancestral tree. When the innermost branches of that tree...resists...well, then...it must be cleansed."

Sirius swallowed audibly as they followed Snape into the house and Remus winced at the sounds of breaking glass and shrieking.

James remembered countless low-toned scoldings about his behavior and sneers about his upbringing whenever he visited: "...Quidditch AND dirt in the house...and no sense of mortification on your part? Hmm, your mother must have no standards…to raise you like an animal. Perhaps you're a pet rather than an heir?"

Later on, he'd joke that Mrs. Black had been an inspiration for their forays into animagi!

"Pads…" James murmured. "Pads...maybe...maybe we should…" He couldn't believe he was saying it. "-Get my dad...for this."

Sirius was staring around in open-mouthed shock.

The parlor was wrecked.

A pale, purse-lipped Narcissa stood among a mess of overturned and smashed apart furniture pieces. The fire crackling in the hearth cast sinister shades of orange over the room and glinted on the vase shards and porcelain bits that crunched underfoot as Snape and Malfoy moved toward her.

She gave Lucius a hard look. "He's not family."

"Distant cousin, I'm sure, if illegitimate. The Princes-"

Her eyes narrowed.

Lucius sighed but didn't back down. "Cissa, darling. He needs to know what's at stake."

An explosion at the far end of the house rattled the floor and the room's chandelier.

"Auntie dearest?" Lucius questioned. He looked over his shoulder at Severus and shrugged. "It's only ever as painful and troublesome as it needs to be. It is generally why relatives take it upon themselves to provide this service. So that others who are less scrupulous don't. But before we delve deeper, you must understand the sanctity of the ceremony. Severus, you are here as my guest. And I am here as Narcissa's intended which makes me family. Therefore, all you do here this night reflects on me and I shall shoulder it. A matter I and you will not take lightly."

Severus gave a solemn bow. "I understand."

Narcissa released a hard breath through her nostrils and then handed Severus a bag. She then turned from him and moved away.

It was as he watched her continue to work that he realized what was being asked of him and his beetle black eyes widened.

He stared down at his feet for a full beat before nodding in acceptance and joining her as they pried photos of Sirius from the walls. Into the bag they went along with discarded shoes by the settee, school ties, awards, and various baubles the boy had stashed in small corners and crevices on bookshelves and counters and the like.

"Families like ours don't suffer bloodtraitors," Lucius commented simply as he trailed a hand along the Black Family Tree tapestry and ignored Narcissa's flinch. "Ones who fail to live up to the line's expectations, ones who run off with muggles-" he paused here and gave Snape a cool look and the sallow-skinned boy colored.

James stiffened. It was low. It was very low to insult someone's mother...like that…

But he felt hypocrisy writhe under his skin and through his guts.

No, Walburga Black was vicious she earned James's dislike. She was different.

Eileen Snape was...too...he thought of the pitiful witch cowering from her muggle husband.

She...didn't deserve that...

Lucius's voice was deceptively light as he mentioned, "Ones who turn their backs on all their families stand for..." He casually tossed a portrait of Sirius into the fire.

"It...wasn't my best...anyway," Sirius tried to joke weakly but his voice was hollow.

Remus signaled to James and shook his head; they shouldn't be here.

He agreed but he wasn't the one who'd need convincing.

"Lucius, Narcissa?" Rabastan Lestrange called over, who was thirteen and looked completely out of his depth. He briefly made eye contact with Snape before looking away. He seemed ready to vomit. "They're...they're having a s-situation upstairs."

"Cissa?" Lucius questioned.

She didn't move or make eye contact—preferring to stare at a crack in the mantel. He turned to Rabastan who seemed to be pretending very hard that he was invisible.

Lucius shook his head and made for the staircase while Rabastan and Narcissa remained in the parlor.

"It's so weird…" Sirius muttered as they moved with the scene unfolding before them. He flexed his fingers in agitation. He kept taking his wand out from his pocket and realizing he couldn't do anything here with it and putting it back. "They're...they're in my house...they're not supposed...to be in my…"

Snape slowly followed with a doomed, trudging step from the ground floor, to the first, to the second, to the third, to the fourth—gradually growing used to the yells and explosions of combat magic thundering through the home. It was systematic. He mounted the steps, took more photos from the walls with nervous fingers, and put them in his bag. The sack had likely been enchanted to be expansive and lightweight because the teen (despite being thin and awkward) never struggled with it.

A photo of a young Sirius and Regulus beaming up at their photographer slipped from his fingers and the frame broke as he overheard the desperate shriek of, "He's coming back! You're wrong! You're all wrong! He's coming back! My brother wouldn't leave me! Now get out of my house!"

Snape shakily reached for the photo and shook it free of the debris of the frame before shoving it in his pocket.

James felt his blood go cold and, for the life of him, he tried to keep Sirius back. To find an escape route from this. They would leave. They would alert his parents and have aurors investigate—

"I-I'm in charge while they're-they're away and I-I say you have to leave!" a young Regulus insisted. "They'll be furious. You just wait! Siri will-"

But the other boy broke free of James's hold and vaulted the stairs with an ease born of practice.

James was quick on his heels and felt his heartbeat get loud in his ears. Regulus Black, who'd always been small and rather fragile looking, was outnumbered by adults but still stubbornly guarding his brother's bedroom door.

Rodolphus Lestrange, Evan Rosier, and Lucius Malfoy leaned against the walls of the corridor with bored resignation. They hadn't reached for their wands yet because it was wholly unnecessary.

Because of who Regulus was standing his ground and talking back to: Bellatrix Lestrange née Black.

Bella, who James knew from a handful of creepy meetings and a plethora of bad confessions from Sirius, was beyond dangerous.

"The hell are you doing?" Sirius breathed as his wandhand twitched helplessly.

Bellatrix smiled and reached a hand to her much younger cousin; it started as a caress and turned into a rough hair pull. "I will not ask again, Reggie."

For one brief moment, Regulus and Severus locked eyes. Betrayal flashed over the younger's face...that Snape would ally himself with them and not…but then defiance lit his countenance.

Regulus didn't back down. He craned his neck to look up at her and flashed his teeth in a snarl meant for everyone in the room.

James knew that look. Sirius wore it whenever people started preaching Pureblood fanaticism and he'd wade into the middle of the argument even when it didn't involve him to shut them down.

"How dare you?! You have no right to do this," he seethed haughtily. "None. Our household branch is in control, yours is not. He's the heir. You can't do anything! Dad says he's just being a teenager. He's trying to be cool for that stupid git, Potter, and their stupid friends. He does this sometimes. He always comes back. Always. If Dad were here now, you-"

Bellatrix drew her wand.

Regulus was faster.

"Expelliarmus!"

Bellatrix's wand flew off and bounced harmlessly against the wall of the corridor before rolling beneath a small table.

There was a full beat and for a split second, James gaped and felt intensely proud that Regulus...Third Year Regulus of all people, who hardly ever dueled, disarmed Bellatrix!

But then he was a "Charms Master," right? Well, if there was ever a charm to master in one's dueling arsenal that was the ace!

"Pads-" His grin and any comment he'd have made died at the look of sheer terror on Sirius's face.

Bella smiled.

"Quick," she complimented airily and then using the grip she still had on him, rammed his face against the door frame.

Repeatedly.

Hours later, James would freely admit that he wasn't sure which was worse: the sight and, more terribly, the sound of a head being bashed in or his best mate and brother in heart if not blood...desperately begging for it to stop.

But no one intervened.

Rosier shook his head in exasperation. "Lestrange, your wife...she's...making a mess."

"I know," Bella's husband sighed.

Snape focused on his feet and not the assault occurring several spaces over and watched Regulus's wand roll and bump against the side of his shoe.

Snape scarcely breathed as its owner's bloodied hand blindly reached around for it. He stood there and trembled at the gagging, choking sounds of the figure near him.

"HELP HIM! Damn you! Help him!" Sirius raged but his hands went right through Snape's figure. His voice broke. "Why won't you help him!? You're here! You're here! You're here!"

But Snape remained stock-still.

A pointed pair of witch's shoes entered Snape's line of sight.

"Turn around," Bella instructed. "And go back down."

Snape's breath hitched.

"Or I'll imperius you to do so, Lucius's pet charity case or not."

Snape had a deathgrip on the bag as he descended the stairs—trying his best to not acknowledge the spitty rasping "S-s-s!"

"What's that, baby cousin?" Bellatrix asked enthusiastically. The landing creaked as she moved. "Are we calling for Siri? Here, I'll help. SIRI! SIRIUS?! O SIRIUS! Shoot. He doesn't seem to hear us, love? Here, one more time. With feeling. And incentive. SIRIUS ORION BLA-ACK! O bloodtraitor cousin of mine, I'm gonna kill your baby brother!" She laughed and then clucked her tongue. "I'm sorry, Reggie. If that just doesn't do it, then nothing will. Don't fret though, I'll make him pay for that. Later. I promise."

Snape focused on each stair as he descended. Not on the rattling and cracking glass and mirrors and picture frames remaining on the walls. Or how the shards from them began to float haphazardly. Not on the small pieces of furniture that began to rise—balancing on one leg as the others lifted and their loads slid to the floor and shattered for a moment before they too rose. Or the way screws began unwinding from bannisters. Or how lamps began turning on and off sporadically.

No.

Not on anything else as he made his way to the back garden. And he blatantly ignored the hoarse cries of, "This is the house of my fathers, you ingrates, how dare you spring this filthy trap-wait...What have you done?! What have you done to my baby?! WHAT HAVE YOU-"

He shuffled through the manicured lawn and absentmindedly kicked around a quaffle that had been left there…

All the while completely oblivious to a hysterical Sirius screaming, "Go back! DO something. Damn you! You're here! DO something! How could you leave him?! They-They need-how could-why?!"

"Sirius..." James and Remus tried to comfort him but...but…

What could be said? Especially when James's throat kept closing on itself?

Remus was noticeably trembling as Rodolphus Lestrange started a bonfire and began hefting sacks from the house and tossing them into it.

He relieved Snape of his burden and the flames leapt high as they landed and shattered.

And James regretted ever taking the pensieve as the flames reflected in Sirius's glassy eyes.

"Almost done," Lucius remarked almost boredly as he took Snape by the shoulder and steered him back into the house where it was eerily quiet save for a woman's humming.

Malfoy released the teenager to go and talk with a weary Alphard, whose clothing was shredded and bloodied.

Dimly, James felt a stab of betrayal. Alphard was supposed to be the good uncle. The one Sirius liked. How could he stand to be a part of this?

"Had to be done now. If Orion were here, we likely wouldn't have been able to overpow-"

Rosier was collecting monogrammed items from the pantry: mugs, a potions apron, and other specialized gloves and things.

Snape didn't look like he particularly wanted to but he followed the humming to the dining room where he found Bellatrix with her back to him...arranging her fallen relatives like they were flowers...or dolls.

Only, Bella hadn't set them according to soiree etiquette with Mrs. Black at the foot of the table across from the head.

Instead…

She knew how the family sat when it was just the four of them and had set their places with dirty hands. Red smudges were on everything and there was an almost overpowering acrid...burning smell...

James had interrupted an intimate dinner more than once...so he knew too.

Mrs. Black was to the left of her husband's place at the head...where she would've sat across from Sirius, shoulders back and head high as she nitpicked his manners.

She was currently slumped in her chair. Her long hair totally free from its usual upstyle and fancy combs. It was waist length and matted and covering her face. Her dress was ripped to the point that her caged hooped skirt and glimpses of her corset were visible.

Her hand was bleeding from missing fingernails and made to loosely grasp a crystal flute that was holding her snapped wand on the table.

And Regulus was to Sirius's spot's left as the second son.

He was there now. Facedown. Blood emanated outward and stained the tablecloth—slowly creeping toward the empty spots at the table. His wand had been balanced on a crystal gravy boat.

"Good God," Cygnus rasped, who was sporting a split lip and what looked like boils against much of his flesh, remarked on seeing Bellatrix and the macabre scene.

She turned fully around and Severus jolted at the sight of her—backing away until his back hit a wall.

Her dress, her flesh, her hair...all scorched...

She smiled and it painfully stretched her face. "Reggie set me on fire, Daddy."

Cygnus briefly closed his eyes. "He's not of age, he was not to be harmed-"

"He got in our way," Bella explained unrepentantly and glided past him to link arms with a rigid Narcissa who was looking in on them. Bella pulled her away.

Rosier paused near them with his armful of bloodtraitor contraband and whistled at the sight of her. "Damn, I still can't believe he got you so good. You're lucky he's young. Only had a vague idea about fiendfyre. Probably his first cast." He swore softly. "If he'd have been able to say it in full...Hell, if he'd had his wand...we probably wouldn't have been able to put you out."

"I know," she giggled.

James breathed heavily, all gooseflesh. She was...insane. She was...completely...monstrously...

Rosier nodded. "You...already cleared their bedrooms? Or do you want me-"

"No one will touch them!" she spat—expression abruptly contorting with fury. "No one!" She looked over her shoulder to where Regulus was and then gushed affectionately, "Baby Cousin earned it."

She flounced off.

Rosier stared.

Lestrange shrugged. "A little practice and I do think he'll be able to do it. Wandlessly."

"That could be useful," Rosier stated.

Snape turned and found Malfoy's wand centimeters from his face. "Silentio Abel pastor...sub rosa!"

Snape gagged and for a moment his mouth clamped shut before he was able to open it again.

Lucius nodded approvingly and then promptly performed it on himself. He then apparated them back to the front of the library.

Snape dizzily stumbled and fell to his knees in dirty, gravel-filled snow.

"I daresay this was an instructive night for you?"

Snape's head jerked up. A flash of real fury and horror and outrage crossed his features and his mouth promptly clamped shut.

Lucius chuckled.

"Cleansings...they're so...necessary, I think. Terrible but necessary," he commented abstractly. "And they explain so much."

Snape breathed heavily.

"It's all a lesson in gardening. Diseased trees must be pruned. Branches must be removed if they threaten the prosperity of the tree. If they weigh it down, if they they threaten its integrity..."

"..."

"I won't make light of it. It can be hard on the tree. It can be hard on the branch that's cast off," Lucius looked at Snape. "Should it flower. For it can't be grafted back on."

"..."

"But we...we who are in the upper tiers of wizarding society...we know what is expected of us and what happens should we fail. To fail should be a constant fear. To fail gladly is a sin. You're a halfblood. And you know well the prejudices against you. I daresay it seems unfair, does it not?"

Snape's teeth gritted together.

"You must understand, Severus. We do not punish them who leave. A waste of time and effort. They rebel and are exiled and it is a blessing to them and to us to have them gone. No, you punish the complacency that allowed that weed to take root."

Snape's mouth clamped shut and his nose ran a bit as he trembled.

"We DO, however, have a name for that species of weed. For such apathy towards one's family and what they'll suffer is monstrous. THAT is why the worst insult we can level is-"

"Bloodtraitor," Snape answered softly.

James hissed out a breath. It was so warped. It was so-so…unforgivably evil to paint people like Snape's mother and Sirius as the "real" villains who orchestrated that-that-that-

He reached for his best mate, even though it was too late to protect him.

Lucius smiled. "Happy Christmas."

Severus stared. "..."

Malfoy's voice lightened to such a level of casualness, James felt sick. Like this was the ordinary end to one's night...and maybe for him...it was...

"Perhaps we'll see you at New Year's? I believe the MacNairs will be hosting a ball of magnificence. I'll see to it you merit an invitation. After all, you want into this world, right?"

Beetle black eyes held the other's cold grey stare unflinchingly.

Malfoy smiled and the Pureblood disapparated with a loud crack.

Severus breathed unsteadily as he pulled a photo from his pocket.

The Black Brothers smiled up at him—totally oblivious to the devastation their futures had in store.

And he turned the photo over:

Siri and Me.

Regulus was eyeing the large clock mounted across the room from him and its softly glowing hour and minute hand—enchanted red and blue respectively so test-takers wouldn't wonder at which was which in moments of stress. The Ministry official waiting near McGonagall's desk (which was set at the front of the room between two staircases that led upward) tapped his foot impatiently.

McGonagall herself had already left to send the emergency owl she brought for moments like this.

It was nearly twenty minutes past the agreed upon starting time.

Regulus sighed at the two inkwells stationed at the corner of his desk...should one run out or dry up or fall and his three exam issued quills.

He cracked his knuckles, kicked his feet against the legs of his chair, and fumbled with his tie and sleeves—he'd ended up dressing in his Hogwarts robes.

Minerva McGonagall had raised an eyebrow and assured him she wouldn't have given him a demerit for dress if he'd chosen something else; they were outside of school and she appreciated that he was in recovery.

He gently turned down the offer to change into something more comfortable.

Honestly, he'd gone this route partly because he knew his house's colors irritated his brother profoundly, but mainly because he liked the simplicity of the morning ritual.

Putting each layer on, fastening his sock garters, intricately knotting his tie, and seeing his cufflinks catch the light…

It was almost like an ordinary day at school.

Like everything was...was...was normal.

And that was such a nice lie.

Because everything was changing again and his experiences thus far, was that abrupt change seldom boded well for him and his prospects.

But he couldn't lament on that right now. Right now...he just had to endure it all as best he could. Patience was key until he could find space to maneuver himself more freely.

Two desks had been set up with several spans between them in what had served Black Manor as a Great Hall in centuries past.

The stonework and torchlight made him feel rather at ease. It was funny how time spent in the dungeons got one's eyesight to adjust to gloomier ambiences.

Being a large space and considering his grandfather's penchant for continuing the family's collection of beasts (particularly ones from his various missions from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures), there were even more taxidermied creatures in here.

He wondered, rather meanly, how Sirius would cope with the sights during the exam. Maybe it was a side effect of being an animagus, or the friend of a werewolf or both...but he was awfully bleeding-heart soft when it came to seeing these creatures throughout the house. They always unsettled him.

It had led Regulus to magick more than a few around the place so his brother and his mates would keep coming face to face with the most unpleasant ones...as well as getting them delightfully disoriented in the large estate.

His trickery had lasted until his grandfather noticed what he was doing and began doing the same thing to him...and he woke up that morning with a taxidermied manticore in his bedroom.

The height of the hall allowed for larger ones to be displayed.

Still, it was rather sad to see a pegasus and a thestral—posed with their great wings spread. Wings that would never feel flight again. The thestral had been coated with a charmed substance to make it visible to the sheltered. They'd been cherished steeds of his grandfather and died gallantly in the field—thus earning them spaces in this collection.

Perhaps, the most disconcerting exhibit was the huge crystal tank circling the perimeter of the room—with doorways carved into it as needed.

Submerged in the liquid was a Horned Serpent one of their ancestors in the Dark Ages had subdued. Even centuries later, it was still fearsome with its great claws and teeth. The Ministry official couldn't help staring at it for long periods of time.

Meanwhile, Regulus was losing the battle of composure; his knee kept bouncing from nerves. He stared up at the chalkboard McGonagall had wheeled in earlier.

There was a line dividing it. One side read: 6th Year Exam while the other stated: 4th Year Exam.

Below each listed the order of the test sections and how much time was allotted to each.

They'd get one half-hour break at noon for lunch and finish.

So Regulus would need to complete five subjects, have lunch, and then complete another set of four.

It made him kind of envious of Sirius's five (three before lunch and two after) even though he knew that was stupid because those tests would be much harder than his.

Still…

If he could've gotten to drop Potions…

But oh no...nope…

Things never worked out easily for him…

He worried at his bottom lip; he'd been given the option to go ahead and start but Potions was going to be first.

Blech! And that would devastate the whole thing; the blow to his ego would ruin him for all the other subjects.

The only upside was Salem would be over in several hours to take his mind off his bombing the exam. He'd need the aftermath support especially since Severus had promised to come help him study in the hours leading up to the test and had fallen through. Instead, the older Slytherin had owled him several more packs of flashcards to review over the morning to make up for his absence.

He'd read them to be sure...but…

Snape didn't understand…

He swallowed nervously—tongue feeling heavy and dry in his mouth.

It was never really about the information involved in potionmaking...it was all about...about THIS...this dismal soul-shredding anxiety he felt in relation to it.

He looked at the two cauldrons waiting for him and his brother and shuddered.

But there was no means at his disposal to explain that without giving everything about himself away.

Still, though it was babyish to be so put out by Snape 'breaking a promise,' it really did bother him.

The "unexpected change of social obligation" Snape mentioned in his letter was probably code for another dismal muggle summer job's boss calling him in because someone didn't show for their shift.

He sighed more loudly.

The Ministry official, Regulus couldn't quite make out the name on his badge, was muttering under his breath about better places he could be when the doors crashed open and Regulus felt his eye twitch.

Of all the melodramatic entries…

He opened his mouth to comment acerbically on the discourteousness of certain Gryffindors who couldn't be bothered to set alarm clocks when he looked over his shoulder and felt instinctive hate flare at the sight of James Potter.

Potter was sweaty and breathless and grim and disheveled.

"Excuse me, young man. Are you Siri-"

"No. I'm not," Potter answered shortly. "Regulus, you need to come with me."

"..."

He marched over and grabbed ahold of Regulus's elbow but the smaller boy wriggled free and crossed his arms. "Don't you dare order me about! Who the hell do you think you are, coming into my grandfather's-"

He set his hands on Regulus again.

"Don't touch me, Potter-"

He hated being manhandled.

Hated it. They did that on purpose. People bigger than him. Trying to intimidate him. And there was no reason, no fragile alliance of Slytherin House peace or Pureblood society mores to uphold for him to keep silence or give surrender to-

"Leggo of me, you filthy excuse of a-"

"Damn it, I'm not trying to-But we need to go. We need to-to-DAMN IT." Potter was leaving the realm of harried and frustrated and entering angry. "I don't want us to fight about this. I don't. I-I-" He looked like he wanted to say more but he shook his head and tried to take in a deep breath. "But Regulus, we've got to go now and this is for your own good!" And he wrenched the younger boy out of his seat and pulled him by the arm towards the doors.

Maybe it was because he'd had the audacity to say that or do that or whatever.

Him.

The one that always ruined everything for him. Everything.

Maybe it was because it was him. And this was his family's house. And he hated being treated thus in his family's house.

Something in Regulus just snapped. Right then and there in a way it hadn't for a very long time. Because it wasn't prudent or wise or clever to give in to such things.

But he threw his whole weight backwards and it jerked Potter into misstepping and having to whirl around to face him.

"I'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE WITH YOU, POTTER! I'M TAKING MY BLOODY EXAM. AND I'M TAKING IT NOWWW!"

Regulus's screech echoed quite impressively in the space.

"So get your hands. Off. Me," he hissed.

Hazel eyes were the size of saucers and he released the younger boy.

Maybe it was the fury...several years in the making and entirely more explosive than the situation warranted.

Maybe it was the way everything in the room rattled ominously because his magic was going haywire and several torches had flared so greatly they'd set a few decorative banners on fire.

Maybe it was quick thinking on the official's part—reasoning that immediate separation was best.

In the span of a minute, the Ministry official shooed Potter from the room with a levicorpus that sent him flying into the hall beyond, magicked the doors closed and charmed them against interruptions, and unwrapped the first pair of scrolls intended for Regulus's exam—plonking the test and answer sheet down on his desk.

Thus, Regulus Arcturus Black's Fourth Year O.W.L.s began...with or without McGonagall's blessing.

And the boy was so furious as he sat down in his chair, all his testing anxiety evaporated.

He magicked his cauldron over and breathed raggedly through his teeth as he read through the first potions question—absentmindedly charming his knife to start chopping up the proper ingredients.

No one.

No one got to treat him like that in any house of his mothers...

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