I'm back! I hope you all like this chapter.

I'm sick. My throat is on fire istg, idk what's happening or why I got sick, you know? But guess I can't control my body forever.

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Slytherin House was more unbearable than ever.

Winning the Quidditch Cup seemed to make them think that they had won the war that was starting to seep through the stone walls, impregnating the Hogwarts' grounds with its enmity that grew each day. The Slytherins laughed, mocked, teased, pushed and hexed whoever they wanted and rarely the consequences were taken above a well-deserved detention, because they never crossed the line expected for more than that – smart and cunning as they were, self-preservation seemed to come first in their mind; it was almost as if someone would recite the rulebooks into the mischievous ears.

The rest of May was completely dangerous to be anything other than Slytherin, but nobody dared to look twice at Luna or Pandora.

Rosalie, Marta and Amanda were walking with Luna and Pandora almost full-time at that point, eager to protect themselves against the attacks that were promised to every student. When alongside the two girls that seemed protected from anything bad happening to them, they were left alone.

Usually, Regulus would sit with them when they were hanging out together, so Luna knew something had happened as soon as he walked across the corridor near the courtyard and made no acknowledgment of her and her friends sitting in the sun, which he usually did even when he couldn't sit with them.

"He seems to be in a hurry," Amanda said, raising her eyebrows as she lowered her skirt a bit while she stretched out on the grass.

Rosalie hummed, raising her head from where she was lying belly-down. She put her chin on her hand and watched Regulus almost run through the corridor, hands on his pocket, face pinched in concentration.

Morris pursued his lips. "Maybe he's got a bellyache?" he said.

That got a loud, genuine laugh from Amanda and Rosalie. Morris, however, frowned when he didn't hear Marta laughing.

"He looks... angry," Marta said, shaking her head in disagreement.

Pandora opened her eyes for the first time during the conversation, being the only one that was sheltered by the shadow of the great oak in the courtyard made her face appear more relaxed than the others'.

"He always looks angry, unless he's with Luna," Pandora said.

"It's part of his charm!" Rosalie said, tone light.

"Charm? He's terrifying," Morris complained. He turned to Luna. "Even when he's all love-love with you, I'm terrified of saying the wrong thing near him."

Luna smiled. "Is that why you're always silent near him?" she asked, trying to hold back her laughter.

Morris hesitated in answering but ended up nodding after a moment. It made everybody around him laugh again, even Pandora – seemingly somber and serious in her relaxation – ended up giving a little chuckle at the idea of Morris being so terrified of Regulus that he avoided speaking altogether, even though Regulus seemed kind enough to the girls around him.

Luna rolled her eyes.

"He's not that scary," she dismissed the situation completely.

Morris looked around, searching for support.

"Did everybody forget third year, when he took a rock and almost bashed Naoki Yamato's head in because they were arguing, and Yamato spat at his shoe? It was very scary and out of proportion. Or did we forget that day he dragged Conan White's face on the stone wall for some reason that nobody knows? It was also scary," Morris said. "Oh! And last year, when he bit his own brother's ear and almost tore it off? It really took me a while to be able to look him in the eye."

Luna hesitated. She did think, however that she was lucky that Morris didn't know about when Regulus almost drowned Burke in the Black Lake for an ill-timed joke about her. Still, she couldn't just completely forget that – for others – Regulus was, indeed, seen as a violent, no-nonsense, proud boy that had his family name to protect him from the consequences of his actions. Regulus wasn't seen as a good person. While he was kind, understanding, vulnerable and loyal in all manners of the word towards her, he failed in being loyal to his true self to others.

"He has his reasons," Luna said.

"He could've dealt with it all without doing so much harm," Morris said.

Marta groaned. "You are not her brother to give her male advice, Morris. You don't like him. Yeah, we got it. Suck it up!" she said.

Morris' whole face coloured.

"It's not that I don't like him –" he started.

"Well, you don't," Amanda said, agreeing with her friend.

"I'm just concerned for Luna," he said.

Marta's attention was caught by that. She raised her whole body to look at him and narrowed her eyes dangerously.

"And since when you're concerned about Luna?" she asked.

Morris' blushed face turned to his girlfriend, going darker than before, though his smirk turned playful.

"Now, now. Don't be jealous. I make no complaints of you talking about other men and calling them handsome, why can't I be worried over your friends' safety and emotional well-being? Luna is my friend, too!" Morris said, flustered.

Luna blinked.

"I am?" she asked, just to confirm.

Morris tuned to her and nodded. "Of course you are!" he said, confused by her reaction.

Luna smiled, thankful deep inside. Marta laughed at the reaction of both of them, throwing her head back before lying back down on the grass.

Regulus reminded himself to breathe.

Sometimes, when he was very focused on something, it felt like the muscles on his stomach would spasm and contract, refusing to let his diaphragm work and allow air into his lungs. It usually just made it hard to breathe, but not impossible; an annoying feeling that even his deepest breath wasn't enough and comfortable, though it never felt like it was a deadly situation, as Barty sometimes described his attacks. It usually happened when he was under a lot of pressure.

But, apparently, it could happen when Lord Voldemort would write him letters as well.

The words weren't as straightforward as Regulus would like them to be and the pretentious vocabulary was certainly just a reminder of how many years older 'Tom Gaunt' could be. A weight that Regulus didn't need. Why would he want to remember that Voldemort was older, wiser, more powerful than him? He knew there was no way he could win or run away from hm on his own.

To my dear young Mister Black,

I trust this letter reaches you in good health – or, at the very least, in the state of mind befitting your name and responsibilities that shall follow.

It is with an immense measure of satisfaction that I write to inform you that your position at the London Law Academy, promised since your birth and secured by your grand academic performance rather than mere pedigree, shall be elevated even further, a reason of pride for me and your family, I am certain. In recognition of your diligence and discretion, I have ensure that the faculty assigned to your tutelage will be of the highest and most appropriate calibre. No longer will you be subjected to the ideological drivel of the less discerning, nor distracted by those of questionable heritage. Only the most astute of pure-blooded and suitably devout half-blooded minds shall instruct you – an arrangement I consider both deserved and necessary to you.

Your education, both in law and in the greater work to which you are now sworn, will demand the entirety of your attention. It is time for the sharpening of resolve, for the discarding of indulgences, and for the full realisation of your true potential. You were not born for mediocrity, Regulus Black. Your name is not one to be tossed about n the company of those who do not understand and respect its weight, be unlike the traitor of his own blood, your brother. Be better. Be the true Heir.

I remind you, as gently as I can permit myself as your Master and protector of those like you,, that personal entanglements – however sentimental they may seem to you as a young man, for I remind you that I was a young man myself one day – are often the softest cracks through which the enemy pries. I learned that young, and I'm ever grateful for Baronet Abraxas Malfoy for teaching me the truth that was right before my eyes. That can become a distraction. You must not allow yourself to be distracted. The work we do is not for the faint-hearted that call themselves lovers, nor for those who believe themselves above the sacrifice it demands.

Understand that I had gone to no small effort to secure a future for you that others could only covet from afar in their wildest dreams. My investment in you is not idle, I know who you can become with some help towards the correct direction. Do not make me regret it.

You know well that I am not easily disappointed, but when I am, it tends to linger.

I expect to see you soon. The New Years is young. We have much to do.

Cordially,

Lord Tom Gaunt.

It was so clear. So obvious, hidden behind a veil of kindness and power.

Voldemort wanted Luna gone. Voldemort wanted Regulus completely focused on him and his assignments. He didn't want a follower; he wanted a slave – and he saw in Regulus the potential of getting both.

Though Regulus had never asked anything from Tom, he knew that he would use every single effort he made in finding good professors that he could trust to teach Regulus as a way to make Regulus pay it back. It was the clearest of his weapons in that letter. And Regulus couldn't help but wonder if there was a probability that all those professors were – to some extent – spies for Voldemort. He knew right away that he would need to keep his guard up all through the Academy.

The dormitory door opening and closing didn't make Regulus look away from the desk he had been glaring at.

"Regulus? Oh, so you're here. Everybody's searching for you – Evan, Barty, your girlfriend, even Dumbledore said that he'd wait for you in his office!" Ash said.

The last name caught Regulus' attention.

"Dumbledore's searching for me? Whatever for?" Regulus asked.

Ash made a little noise and shrugged, going towards his own bed and sitting there to take off his shoes. He sighed and leaned against the headboard.

"All I know is that he asked Barty if he had seen you when we crossed him in the corridor, Barty said that he didn't see you today after breakfast. I suppose Dumbledore wanted to talk to you about something," Ash said. He pointed at the desk filled with letters that Regulus had received. "I mean, you got the acceptance letter from the Academy of Law of London, he may be trying to congratulate you or something."

"I always had a spot on the Academy, Ash," Regulus said, gathering his letters at once. He still had to answer most of them.

Ash gave out a little chuckle.

"Yeah, nepotism and all," he joked.

Regulus didn't correct him.

He got up from his seat and threw the letters on top of his bed as he passed by it.

"I'll go find Dumbledore," Regulus said.

Ash lied down at his bed. "Yeah, you go and do that. I'll take a nap," he said with a movement of his hand.

Regulus rolled his eyes as he walked out of the dormitory, using casual wizarding robes since it was the weekend.

The whole way to Dumbledore's office, Regulus wondered why Luna wanted to meet him, seeing that she had warned him beforehand that she was going to Hogsmeade with her friends, when he had already told her that he wouldn't be able to accompany them. Regardless of her reasoning, Regulus knew that he couldn't see her at the moment – not without feeling like his heart would be torn away from his chest.

Getting to the correct floor, Regulus shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to breathe without feeling the anxiety that had started to subside.

"Oh, Mister Black," someone said from behind him.

Regulus jumped, even if he tried to supress it. He turned quickly.

Dumbledore and McGonagall were standing beside one another, having been coming out from a classroom on that floor. They were staring at him. McGonagall looked confused at his presence and slightly uncomfortable, but Dumbledore had a kind smile on his face, as if he knew to expect him soon.

"Professors," he greeted. He did not take his hands off his pockets, but he did look down in respect before looking towards them again. "Professor Dumbledore, I've been told you were looking for me."

"Oh, yes, Mister Crouch found you?" Dumbledore asked.

"No. Ash," he corrected.

Dumbledore's smile grew just a bit as he chuckled and nodded, as if Regulus' correction had been a witty joke.

"Why don't we go to my office then, Mister Black?" the headmaster asked, motioning with his head towards the gargoyle that guarded the stairs.

McGonagall gave a look at Dumbledore, unsure to why he wanted to talk to Regulus. She made no comment about it, however, just watched with a lot of attention as Albus and Regulus walked together towards the gargoyle, then disappeared into the passage that was quickly covered up once more.

Inside, Dumbledore and Black walked in silence up the stairs. They only really faced one another as they sat with Dumbledore's table in between them.

"Don't look so tense, Mister Black. I only have a few doubts and questions that I'd like to clear up. You're almost done with school, we're already in June after all. Soon enough, you'll no longer be a student," Dumbledore said.

"I'm certain that a few of your questions will remain unanswered, sir," Regulus said.

Though he used the word 'sir', there's was a very little respect in his tone. His blank face and monotone were just so obvious that it was one step away from becoming comic to Dumbledore, but he controlled himself.

"I'm certain a few of those will," Dumbledore said with an understanding nod. "Then, just one question – and we'll see where we can go from it." Regulus raised his eyebrows but said nothing. "You received a lot of letters."

With a scoff, Regulus smirked. He leaned forward and crossed his arms in an attempt to look a bit more intimidating.

"Is that illegal?" Regulus asked.

"It is odd."

"That people write to me?"

"That Tom Riddle would write to you," Dumbledore corrected.

Regulus felt his stomach squeeze as his breath disappeared from his lungs.

Tom Gaunt's real name, apparently, was Tom Riddle. It wasn't hard to guess Dumbledore's intention to asking about it.

"I have nothing to say," Regulus said firmly.

Blindly, he started to get up from his seat, aiming to go towards the door.

"How did he present himself you?" Dumbledore asked, doubling down on his question.

"I have nothing to say," Regulus said.

He stumbled towards the door, hands starting to shake. He wanted to leave. He needed to leave. He needed to run away from Dumbledore and his annoying questions, all too aware that the consequences would lead him to lying on the floor of the sitting room of his own house, trying not to puke his guts out or cry in front of other people. He did not want his father and uncle to have to help him up the stairs for his own bedroom, where he would lie in bed, unable to think of anything other than how his muscles were mushy, aching and uncontrollably shaking.

"I know who he is. He studied here," Dumbledore said, also getting up from his seat. "I believe I know the lies that he's telling, but I want the confirmation, so I know which truths need to come out."

Regulus hesitated, hand on the handle of the door. He kept his back turned to Dumbledore.

A memory without a visual was easier to erase, easier to hide. If he spoke out here, back to the headmaster, it would be safer.

"Lord Voldemort, that's how he presents himself most of the time, but in legal documents, he is Lord Tom Gaunt. He officially got the title back two months ago, and how he's trying to get the Seat back as well," Regulus said, words coming out quick of his mouth, as if he was scared that he would change his mind about talking. "I'd hazard the documentation is void since it's not his real name."

"His name is Tom Riddle. He's a half-blood, raised in a muggle orphanage in London for most of his life, taken in as an unofficial ward by a Sweden family two years after his end of basic academic career. I'd imagine he did more studying there, because he came back to the country just a bit over half a decade ago. He was more radical than ever," Dumbledore said.

Regulus sighed.

"Believe me when I said, Headmaster, that he wasn't so bad at the start," Regulus said, lowering his head. "His words weren't about violence or anger; they were of protection and tradition. When he got to my ears, however, it was too late already, he had already gotten to all the other families, and he knew exactly what to say to make himself be heard."

"Fear," Dumbledore guessed.

Fear of lack of power. Fear of being treated badly. Fear of no longer being seen as superior. Fear of being equal to those they hated for so long. Fear of no longer being enough to be the leaders of the nation they said to have built. Fear of the unknown that would come after change.

For those raised in the simplicity of monotony, change was the enemy, and equality was never part of their vocabulary.

"I cannot speak to you any longer than necessary, Headmaster. If you know him as well as you think you do, then you understand my meaning and my... hesitation in facing you," Regulus said softly.

"I will no longer call for you unless necessary then, Mister Black." He heard Dumbledore moving around the room.

"Make it unnecessary regardless of the urgency," he answered, voracity in his voice so eager to come out that it sounded almost like a roar.

Dumbledore chuckled.

Regulus understood that his anger wasn't funny to watch, but the fact that he thought he had much of a choice was. For Dumbledore, Regulus' ability to fall apart and let a few riddled warnings to come out was the closest thing to eyes on the other side of the war he had managed to find.

"Tell me, what was in the letter?" Dumbledore asked.

"Warnings. Personal warnings," Regulus said.

There was a moment of silence.

Once more, Regulus heard the swooshing of the fabric of Dumbledore's robes moving as he walked. It was rhythmic. The old man was pacing as if he was deep in thought, trying to understand Regulus' words.

"Is Miss Lupin in any danger?" he asked.

Regulus' shoulders relaxed at his understanding. If there was one thing that he could trust Dumbledore on was protecting Luna Lupin, especially when he still needed Remus to fighting form.

"Yes, if I don't do what he wants," Regulus said.

"And you will follow orders?"

"As any good soldier. But they will only come, truly, once school is over – it was the deal parents stuck to keep our grades up," Regulus explained.

'Parents', the word in plural. A begging for attention of Regulus' company and the possibility of their involvement and fear about whatever it was to come. The warning was clear. Regulus wasn't completely alone in his hesitation.

"Do you have any plans about the orders to come?" Dumbledore asked.

His steps slowed down and then stopped suddenly. A movement more and a sound of air. Dumbledore had sat down on one of the puffiest chairs, back also facing Regulus since he hadn't heard the chair being dragged.

"I don't know anything about the orders to come, sir. All I know is that the professors of the Academy were changed by Lord Voldemort – I mean, Tom Riddle himself," Regulus explained.

"You'll to be watched."

Dumbledore had gotten to the same conclusion Regulus had. It felt like confirmation that his fear and anxiety weren't for nothing.

"If you are to be watched, Mister Black, know that all the people that you publicly socialise with will be as well. Some of those people should be warned beforehand," Dumbledore continued. "Their professors, by my understanding, were in uproar over a few of their colleagues leaving their posts as well. If my thoughts are correct, you aren't the only one receiving especial attention from Tom."

Regulus bit the inside of his cheek. "You speak of Severus Snape," he mumbled.

"A wonderful student to the Potion and Alchemy Academy, he's been proving himself to be," Dumbledore said in a casual tone. The chair creaked as he leaned back against it. "I believe he's living in the dormitory there – it's a male only dormitory – his roommate is the son of a dear friend of mine."

The Royal Academy of Potions and Alchemy in London. One single, enormous building where both approaches shared a few core classes.

"I see. Thank you, Professor Dumbledore," Regulus said.

"For what? You barely answered any of my questions, Mister Black. The things you told me, I mostly already knew," Dumbledore said, tone amused. "Confirmation isn't nearly as useful as you believe it to be. Sometimes what your magic and guts tell you is far more reliable than the information you receive. But I promise that everything that I told you and everything that I will tell you in the future will be true – one thing you can be sure about, my dear boy, is that I won't lie to you. Do you promise me to do the same?"

Regulus looked over his shoulder.

Dumbledore was indeed sitting, but he was leaning forward, eyes and ears attentive to any signal of Regulus' answer.

"I won't lie to you, sir," he promised.

"Well, then we'll never lie to one another. That's all I wanted," Dumbledore said. "Now, you should go back before it's supper, Mister Black. I overheard some of the elves speaking of roasted beef for tonight, and my mouth if filled with water already – I'm ever so inclined to a second plate in nights like this."

Regulus didn't ask what he meant, he just opened the door and slipped out. He didn't look back to see Dumbledore's serious face watching him walk away, deep in thought for everything Regulus had not said.

And here we go. It's not much, but next chapter is coming soon.

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