𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐍 | Regulus Black x Reader

VIII. The Ritual

Your sixth year at Hogwarts kicked off with a suspiciously smooth start. Rather, it was quite an unexpected beginning to the year with Professor Slughorn taking over Professor Snape's post as the Potions teacher. It felt strange to no longer feel tense going into the Potions classroom, but you would be lying through your teeth by saying that the quality of instruction improved. Regretfully, it felt like the opposite.

Professor Slughorn had a penchant for talking in roundabout ways and digressing to the point of incomprehensibility–at least Snape was clear and short with his words (though you suspected that the tightness of his robe collars limited the amount of words he could speak everyday).

The shock of such changes barely had time to wean away before you were mind-boggled by another, rather larger, surprise. Harry, whose performance had always been teetering the edge between passable and dreadful in Potions, was suddenly topping the grades in your year for the class.

Improving was a great development (perhaps even expected, now that Snape was gone), but improving fast enough to overtake Hermione in the class was outright suspicious. You weren't going to prod Harry, having already witnessed Hermione's scathing looks towards the boy's cauldron and Ron's clueless pleas for help.

Besides, you would be a hypocrite to scrutinize the boy, having your own secrets that you held onto tightly. If it wasn't corrupting your friend or interfering with his well being, you'd leave the issue be (even if you did suspect academic dishonesty).

However, your sentiment towards the subject seemed irrelevant at the moment as you grew increasingly irritated with the concoction in front of you.

'Reg, how in Merlin's name is Harry doing this? I swear that this thing in front of me resembles more of a sludge than a potion.'

'Patience, little bird. Are you certain you followed the instructions exactly?'

'If this is a jab about me being illiterate, I will obliterate you.' Your thoughts had somehow managed to convey your frustration, coming out a bit snarky.

'I'd bet my left arm on the likelihood of that never happening, but no, it wasn't a tease. You will be fine, Slughorn is a lenient grader.'

Your shoulders sag in exhaustion at Regulus' words, the aching between your shoulder blades intensifying with the action. Deciding to abandon the failed mixture, you slowly inch towards Harry, making a show of looking at his potion.

"I have to hand it to you, Harry. At this rate, you are definitely getting an O on your Potions N.E.W.T next year." Your words are met with a wide grin, and his eyes briefly dart to his textbook, hand moving to shift it from your line of sight.

The subtlety of an ogre, this one.

Continuing to stir his potion, he hums appreciatively, "Thanks, but it's really nothing. I'm just relieved that Professor Snape is teaching a different subject this year. I was worried that I wouldn't be able to take Potions at the N.E.W.T level."

"Ah, right, this class is a prerequisite for the Auror training program. Well, if only Professor Snape could see you now, he'd drop from shock, I'm sure." You smile lightly at the thought, eyes gazing around Harry's workbench.

An explosion sounds from behind the two of you, no doubt originating from Seamus' table, but you both pay no mind to it. Slughorn rushes past you, no doubt making sure that Seamus hasn't blown himself up, and it's enough to have you trudging back to your boiling mixture.

No use in blowing up your own cauldron and having Slughorn fuss around.

In the time that you spent away from it, your potion managed to thin out a bit more and morph into a color that better resembled the correct shade. Honestly, you were just comparing yours to Harry's and hoping for the best.