Chapter 348: Chapter 348: The Loyal Slytherins
Regulus reached the long sofas by the hearth, turned, and sat.
Cuthbert dropped into the seat on his right. Alex on his left. Hermes had been planning to head straight to the dormitory, but he took in the scene, hesitated, and sat down too.
Lina and Samuel didn’t sit. They moved to either side of the sofa, one left, one right, and stood.
Regulus sitting down was a signal. Those who’d been waiting began to rise.
The first two came from the sofa on the opposite side of the hearth, walking over one behind the other.
Polius Greengrass.
He stopped before Regulus and gave a measured nod, extending his right hand.
Regulus stood and shook it.
"Black." Polius’s voice was proper.
"Greengrass." Regulus returned, grip moderate, one shake, released.
A mutual nod. That was all.
Polius didn’t add a single word or an extra glance.
What he’d come to do was simple: confirm the Black heir was back, in good order, and that House business wouldn’t disturb the school. A Prefect’s tone, setting the register. No fuss, no questions, business as usual.
Regulus watched him go and understood.
Polius wasn’t making a political gesture or fishing for information. He was exercising a Prefect’s duty. The Greengrass family had held steady through the Pure-blood circles for over a dozen generations, never by gambling, but by never making mistakes.
Veronica Yaxley followed.
Seventh-year female Prefect.
She stepped forward with a slight smile and offered her hand. "Regulus."
The Yaxleys and the Blacks were familiar. Walburga and Mrs. Yaxley were regulars at each other’s tea parties. Between the two families, it was first names, not surnames. Closeness on display.
"Mother brought me to Grimmauld Place over the holiday," Veronica said as she released his hand, warmth in her tone, "but you weren’t in."
"Cornwall," Regulus replied smoothly. "Had some things to take care of. A shame I missed Mrs. Yaxley. Please give her my regards."
Veronica nodded, her smile deepening. "She’ll be pleased."
Then she stepped back but didn’t leave. She stayed nearby, turning to face the room, settling into the spot like a hostess at a reception, as though she naturally belonged there.
Regulus glanced at her and understood.
Veronica was staying to show everyone in the room how close she stood to the Black heir.
He let it be. The Yaxleys wanted to borrow the moment’s weight, so let them. Tea-party connections. House Black could spare the glow.
Next came Elliot Rosier.
Slytherin Quidditch Captain. Sixth year. Main branch of the Rosier family. Broad-shouldered, tall enough that his robes sat at sharp angles across his frame. His hair was cropped shorter than most Pure-blood sons wore theirs, an easy grin on his face, stride carrying energy. He looked open, uncomplicated.
He clasped Regulus’s hand with more force than either of the previous two, pumped it twice before letting go, and flashed a wide, white-toothed smile. "Black."
"Rosier." Regulus returned.
Elliot leaned in a fraction and dropped his voice. "Well done."
Regulus nodded. "Thanks."
Elliot released his hand but didn’t rush off. He turned to Alex.
Alex, along with Cuthbert and Hermes, had risen when Regulus stood. The whole affair had taken on a formal air. Regulus was on his feet; sitting wouldn’t do.
Hermes had gotten up with visible reluctance, his backside still propped against the sofa arm, half-standing, half-leaning. It looked like he was cheating.
Elliot crossed over and clapped a palm onto Alex’s shoulder, hard enough to rock him.
"Bit thin." He squeezed the shoulder, frowning with exaggerated seriousness.
"We’re short a Chaser." Elliot let go and tipped his chin up. "Come try out?"
Alex blinked, not expecting that, then broke into a slightly shy smile and nodded. "Sure."
Elliot gave his arm a satisfied slap and walked off.
Next, the fifth-year Selwyn, with Rosalie in tow.
The elder Selwyn led, his manner visibly warmer than those before him. He’d always been open about wanting to cultivate a connection with Regulus. Never concealed it, never overstepped.
He shook hands, grip moderate, one pump, and smiled. "Black. Rosalie barely left the house all holiday. Skipped parties, skipped tea. Stayed home practicing Protego."
Light in tone, but the message was clear: the person you took the time to coach, our family takes seriously. She’s been training exactly as you said.
Regulus’s smile carried a touch more warmth than before. He turned to Rosalie. "Miss Selwyn."
Rosalie stood behind her cousin in a well-fitted dark robe, hair in a high ponytail, looking neat and composed. The tips of her ears were pink.
Her eyes were bright. Her voice came out steady, only the tail end drifting upward, betraying the excitement she couldn’t quite contain. "Mr. Black."
The elder Selwyn gave her a subtle nod. Rosalie understood. She stepped forward and drew her wand.
"Protego."
A silver barrier surged from the wand tip and unfurled before her, complete and translucent.
Far more stable than last term. No ragged edges. Even thickness. A fine texture rippled across the surface.
The practice showed. Solid spell structure, smooth magical output, held rock-steady.
Regulus stepped forward, raised his right hand, extended his index finger, and tapped the barrier lightly.
Clang.
Metal on metal, crisp, with a brief echo.
A visible ripple bloomed from the point of contact, radiating outward. The entire spherical shield trembled once.
But it held.
A few gasps from the onlookers. Several people craned forward, then pulled back.
A complete Protego was enough to surprise them. Among the upperclassmen present, not many could produce a full shield, let alone a first-year.
But what baffled them more was the gesture itself. Tapping a Shield Charm with a finger.
No incantation, no wand, not even a precursor to casting. A casual tap, and the barrier had shuddered.
What kind of technique was that?
Rosalie startled too. She felt the pressure transmitted through the shield, dense and heavy. She’d nearly lost it.
Regulus withdrew his finger. He’d sensed the shield’s state.
At the welcome gathering, the trace he’d planted was still there, but most of it had been worn away. The spell’s owner was replacing his guidance with her own understanding, bit by bit. At this rate, another month or two and the Protego would be entirely Rosalie’s.
"Good," he said, looking at her, his tone mild. "I can tell you’ve been putting in the work."
Rosalie dropped the charm, lowered her wand, and her chest rose once. Her lips pressed together, because if she didn’t press them she was going to smile.
"Miss Selwyn." Regulus added one more thing. "You have real talent. Don’t waste it."
Rosalie nodded hard, eyes burning bright, the end of her ponytail whipping across her shoulder. Her voice shook slightly, but she was fighting to keep it even. "I won’t, Mr. Black."
The Selwyns departed. The elder Selwyn gave Regulus a nod; Regulus returned it.
A few more followed in succession.
The seventh-year Parkinson girl. The fifth-year Flint boy. First-year Darius Nott.
Regulus handled each. Handshake, nod, surname, a few courteous words.
And then they were done.
A cordial and amicable reception.
The Sacred Twenty-Eight’s young witches and wizards filtered back to their seats. The low murmur of conversation returned to the hearth.
But the doorway crowd still lingered. The minor families, seeing the main business concluded, were stirring again. Eyes drifting this way, heads leaning together, probably debating who should approach first.
Regulus had no intention of continuing.
These people had value too, but they didn’t require his personal attention.
He turned, clapped a hand on Cuthbert’s shoulder. "All yours."
Then he walked straight toward the dormitory.
The crowd parted of its own accord, clearing his path. Alex fell in behind him. Hermes sprang off the sofa arm, hands in pockets, trailing after.
Cuthbert stood frozen for a beat. Then the corner of his mouth climbed, the movement small, controlled, dignified, proper, with the barest edge of irrepressible excitement.
He rose, adjusted his collar, and turned to face the crowd still watching from the doorway.
Lina and Samuel exchanged a glance, then moved forward in unison, stepping from either side of the sofa to take their positions behind Cuthbert. Lina on the left, Samuel on the right.
Cuthbert glanced back, saw the two of them in place, and gave a satisfied nod.
Lina’s mouth curved a fraction. Samuel’s face showed nothing. The two of them stood quietly as backdrop, framing Cuthbert’s presence.
They knew exactly how to find their place in a moment like this.
Veronica, still standing nearby, watched the arrangement form. One eyebrow lifted. She said nothing.
The dormitory door closed behind them. Regulus crossed toward his bed and reached up to unfasten the hidden clasp at his collar.
Alex sat down nearby. Hermes leaned against a bedpost, arms folded, watching Regulus.
From outside, Cuthbert’s voice drifted in, pitched high, layered with a deliberate steadiness, the tone perfectly calibrated between warmth and formality.
"Everyone, welcome back. New term’s upon us. Black asked me to pass along a few words..."
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Sorry for the scuffed upload schedule ;-; i was out on a trip with my friends, but i’m back now... from today onwards bonus Chapters and regular uploads should be back to normal... i’ll try to be more consistent with the uploads too :)
Next Target 100PS :)
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