Mischief Managed Y2 Part 2: The Truth of the Tournament

Chapter Sixty-Five: Beginnings

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Regulus waited impatiently, resisting the urge to start tapping his foot like his mum often would when she was annoyed. He knew how much hearing that unnerved him, and as much as Ryan's tardiness bothered and worried him, he didn't want to scare the skittish boy. Slughorn's talk to the Slytherins on bullying had little positive impact on Ryan, as to be expected. Luckily though, with summer drawing closer most people in their house were too preoccupied with making plans for the holiday or with the third task coming up to bother the Slave of Slytherin. The conclusion of the Triwizard Tournament had all but arrived, which was why Reg was so anxious.

Even after climbing stairs until he could no longer go on, he still hadn't figured out a way to get into the room with the orb, which in theory didn't matter to protect one of the defences of Hogwarts. Ryan had hinted he could get Reg into the room with the orb, though Regulus privately thought this to be wishful thinking on the second year's part. It's not like there was that much difference in the skills of a first year in comparison to a second year, not that Sirius saw it that way, or probably any second year would. Regulus didn't get what was so great about growing up. A rather large part of him wanted to go back to the simpler time when his family got along. Though deep down he knew a time like that had never existed. The best he could hope for was to return to when Sirius had cared enough about him to protect him, to stand up for him, even against their mum.

It had unfortunately been needed a lot for Regulus, who had never been able to appear as cruel as Sirius. He was collected, yes, but when he was younger, he got in trouble many times for sniffling and flinching. No, no Regulus didn't actually miss that time either. It was a perfect family photograph, the truth hidden behind plastered haughty looks and the rigid posture smacked into them from a ridiculously young age. 

Regulus knew what he wanted was another life. One where Regulus could be friends with his brother and his friends. A world where everyone got along, where he didn't have to stare at the letter his mum had written, basically summing up her desire for him to become a death eater like his cousin Bellatrix when he was the right age to do so. Regulus had stared at the note, willing the words to melt away. It hadn't and he tried to summon the excitement his peers had expressed when Greggory had read over his shoulder and proceeded to pass the letter around like it was a trophy until a prefect confiscated it with warnings about 'the right time and place for certain conversations.'

But Reg knew too much cruelty to truly want to join a man who was becoming well known for it. He had dared hint at this to Narcissa, who had grown pale and slapped him. Before he knew it she was telling him what his summer would be like, private lessons with Lucius Malfoy and Corbyn Yaxley, young men he hardly knew and didn't really care about. Apparently, Narcissa was convinced he needed to protect his mind, whatever that meant. It certainly didn't sound like an enjoyable way to spend the summer, but Regulus was quickly learning his life was not his own. 

The sharp pangs from missing Kreacher had faded into a dull background hum by now. The much louder noise came from the din of the many voices from his family and friends telling him how he should act, think, and feel. A deafening cascade that often left him huddled on top of the Astronomy tower with his hands pressed firmly around his ears. Everything seemed far too loud nowadays, and he even felt like his friends were beginning to wonder if the cool collected exterior of Regulus Black was a weapon or a shield. If only he knew the answer himself.

"Where are you Ryan?" he grumbled under his breath, wondering if he should move out of the hall onto the never-ending staircase inside the portrait's secret passage. He was worried he'd run into one of the foreign students, or worse, Sirius and his little friends. As if his thoughts had summoned them Regulus jumped at hearing Potter's unmistakable laugh burst out from further down the stairs, which would lead to the portrait, to him. Too loud! Hadn't Potter just been brutalised, probably by one of the foreign students? What if Regulus had been one of them lying in wait?