God is Dead | James Potter

4 | SECRETS OF THE STARS

"SHE'S A MUDBLOOD."

"In all its glory."

"A mudblood."

"Completely."

"A mud—"

"You know repeating it just makes you sound like a fool, don't you?" A third time of the same statement wasn't needed, and much less useful. Had Lovina wanted to hear the same thing on a loop, she would've gone to any common moron.

Regulus shot her an unpleasant look, with a roll of his eyes, but complied, "Why would you pull such a stunt if you knew?" He'd looked up from his black leather notebook, and getting him to do such a thing never was an easy task. "You've got to move places, obviously."

"I wasn't going to sit with Rosier. You know what he is—"

"I know very well what Rosier is, Vi." Interrupted Regulus, "There's ought to be someone else, though. Like..." He soon trailed off, eyebrows furrowing together.

"Exactly," Said Lovina, pleased by his own realisation, "Anyway, she was the only one left, it's no wonder. She's mad, you can tell right away. Potter with his charity work agenda. It's not like I wanted to sit with her. So it's fine... right?"

It wasn't every day that Lovina asked for his input. It wasn't every day she asked for anyone's input, but it didn't surprise Regulus she did ask this time. "I would hope. So long as you don't fraternise. You wouldn't be the first to be around their kind. Snape voluntarily ran around with Evans, didn't he?"

"True," Lovina admitted languidly, "But he's a filthy half blood."

"Half blood prince, you preposterous thing," Regulus corrected with a shake of his head, holding back his laughter as he darted his eyes back to his notebook, carefully passing the page, and dipping his quill in ink just as delicately.

The moment was short-lived, and Regulus had closed his book on instinct as soon as he heard the seventh year prefect's voice: "Headmaster wants you in his office, Selwyn. Now. He rather likes acid pops."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing, actually." Lovina scoffed. One could never know with Dumbledore.

Lovina was no stranger to Professor Dumbledore's office. Neither was Regulus. Whether it was pushing the opposite team's players off their broom, or being caught casting a bedazzling hex (which didn't count if the target was already blind, if you asked Lovina), the fear of finding themselves there had long ago been extinguished.

What she did not expect to see in the office was someone else, let alone the Astronomy professor. Alas, she hadn't an idea where this was going, but it was no good. "You called, Professor?"

"So I did. Please, come in, Miss Selwyn," Said Dumbledore, as he gestured to the chair in front of his desk, the long sleeve of his purple robes matching his movements. Lovina always wondered when did Dumbledore have the time to pick such extravagant pieces. She imagined Regulus would copy that style once he too got old and wrinkly. "It is a particular hairstyle, the one you've chosen." The Headmaster oberved.

"Forbidden?" Lovina inquired, the wording sounding all too fishy for her.

"Not at all," Said Dumbledore, a hint of amusement gleaming behind his half moon glasses, "It wasn't so much me who wished to speak to you, more than it was Professor Lewis."