Defense Against the Dark Arts had always been a mixed bag. Dumbledore couldn’t hold on to a professor for more than a year. Some left utterly destroyed while others bowed out gracefully.
Each new professor would fascinate Regulus and be gone, and he would come home itching to learn more– to know more. The Dark Arts were, for the most part, something they studied through practical lessons. Regulus remembered his first Boggart–his own corpse lurching toward him. The world went black, until the courage came, and with a flick of his wand-Riddikulus! Regulus had transformed the corpse into a puppet that did a little song and dance.
Deep in his consciousness, Regulus knew he was preparing for something. His eagerness for learning defensive magic as well as all he could about the Dark Arts were encouraged by his family, they were all too pleased to help him along the way.
Back in school, they began their unit on the Patronus under this year’s tutelage of a former vampire hunter Priya Dearborn Victoria and Darren had once again chose to show off their corporeal patronus this time. Their flamboyant displays were not wasted, and Professor Dearborn took the duo under her wing after their performance last term. They stood before the class as Dearborn employed them in a demonstration.
The two cast their spells, and their silvery figures chased each other around the room. Darren’s graceful antelope pranced alongside a skeletal horse with wings.
Professor Dearborn asked the class, “Can anyone tell me what this creature might be?”. She wasn’t young, but considering the current Hogwarts staff, Priya Dearborn was a novice. She was clever and inquisitive, and as a result, her lessons would often travel down a different path than what she had planned in the curriculum. Regulus liked this. He felt like he was learning more–knowing more. It seemed his peers felt the same way. Several students anxiously flipped through their books, desperate to be the one to give her the answer.
She smiled kindly at them. Today her long dark hair was tied back in a braid. She wore deep blue robes with silver stars and pointy black boots. Sometimes, she reminded him of Dumbledore. He raised his hand.
“Mr. Black,” she nodded, prompting him to continue.
“It’s a thestral,” he said absentmindedly. Professor Dearborn grinned. The silver stars gleamed in the daylight, which streamed in from the windows where Pandora sat as close as possible, taking any chance to bask in the sun. Regulus had been keeping an eye on her in the classes Ravenclaws and Slytherins shared despite his self-inflicted estrangement. He worried she would see through it all even without her memories.
“Five points then! Now, who else knows what a thestral is ?” Dearborn asked. About a quarter of the class raised their hands. Regulus became acutely aware of the fact that only he could identify the creature by sight. Did the others not know they drove the carriages back to school? Did Victoria even know what she had produced? He glanced at Dearborn and she must have sensed some of his alarm. She sauntered over to Victoria and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.
She stated, “A patronus is not necessarily a reflection of who you are, but more so of what you need as a protector.”
She held her stare with Regulus and then returned Victoria and Darren to their seats. Meanwhile, some Ravenclaw boy muttered to his friends, “I’ll bet she saw a ton of dead people this summer, she’s a dirty Slytherin .”
Professor Dearborn cleared her throat loudly, alerting the culprit that he was indeed speaking to the whole class. Glancing at her seat near the front, Regulus watched Victoria’s expression sour. She seemed well aware of her qualifications. Who had she seen die?
Victoria vehemently retorted, “Coincidentally, brainiac, you–”
Professor Dearborn interrupted, “Thank you, Miss Fawley. I’ll take it from here, if you please. Victoria glared at the Ravenclaw boy and suddenly caught eyes with Regulus. She furrowed her brow and turned to Darren.
