In July 1972, Sirius Black finished his first year at Hogwarts and returned to Number 12, Grimmauld Place.
He had changed a lot during the year.
Not only had he grown his hair longer, but he also wore Muggle jeans and T-shirts he had discovered through James Potter. The clothes made him look nothing like what a traditional pure-blood wizard should resemble.
At dinner that evening, Sirius spoke casually while cutting his food.
"James says Quidditch should allow a few harmless prank spells," he said. "It would make the matches much more interesting."
Walburga Black slowly placed her knife and fork on the table. Her sharp gaze turned toward her son.
"James?" she repeated coldly. "That boy from the Potter family? I recall their bloodline being pure enough, but their tastes…"
"Their taste is great," Sirius interrupted without hesitation. "At least people in their family speak like human beings instead of constantly droning on about honor, bloodline, and duty."
The air at the dining table instantly froze.
Across from him, Regulus quietly cut the grilled fish on his plate while observing his brother.
There was something shining in Sirius's eyes tonight—a brightness that had never appeared within the walls of Grimmauld Place.
Perhaps it was freedom.
Regulus already understood something.
Sirius was preparing to leave this home.
"And Remus," Sirius continued, apparently unaware of his mother's expression, "he's practically a walking library. He knows more about the History of Magic than the professors even bother to teach. Peter is a bit timid, but he's a good person…"
"Enough!" Walburga's voice cut through the room like ice.
"I don't wish to hear about the trivial matters of your friends. Where is your Hogwarts report card?"
"Upstairs," Sirius replied lazily. "I passed everything. Outstanding in Flying and Exceeds Expectations in Defense Against the Dark Arts."
He shrugged.
"That's enough."
"Enough?"
Walburga stood up abruptly, her anger rising.
"An heir of the Black family should be outstanding in every subject! You should become a prefect! You should—"
"I'm not the heir."
Sirius stood as well, meeting his mother's gaze directly.
"Regulus is. You chose him long ago, didn't you?"
His eyes shifted toward his younger brother.
Regulus calmly met his gaze without speaking.
"Look at him," Sirius said, pointing.
"Sitting up straight, cutting fish like he's performing a potion experiment. He's already prepared to become the kind of Black you want."
"So just leave me alone, alright?"
Without waiting for an answer, Sirius turned and walked out of the dining room.
Walburga looked ready to chase after him, but Orion Black quietly held her wrist.
"Let him go," Orion said calmly.
"Once certain words are spoken, they cannot be taken back."
He had foreseen this day many years ago.
Regulus had played a role in guiding events toward this outcome, yet Orion had never attempted to stop it.
The dining room eventually fell silent.
Regulus finished his meal, placed his utensils down neatly, and rose from his seat.
When he reached the corner of the staircase, he saw Sirius leaning against the wall, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans as he looked out through the window at the dim London street.
"Do you think I went too far?" Sirius asked without turning around.
"I think you are happy," Regulus replied calmly.
Sirius paused.
Then he turned his head slightly.
"At Hogwarts, I am happy," he admitted.
"Gryffindor Tower is always noisy. Someone is always doing something stupid. Someone is always laughing."
His gaze drifted along the dark hallway.
"Unlike here."
He gestured faintly at the ancient house.
"This place feels like a magnificent tomb."
"There are treasures in tombs as well," Regulus said quietly, his tone subtle. "If you know how to find them."
In Regulus's view, all tragedies ultimately stemmed from a lack of power.
Yet Sirius never truly considered seeking power until the moment of his death.
"I don't want treasures from a tomb," Sirius said, shaking his head.
"I want a life in the sunshine—even if it's brief."
He turned and looked directly at his brother.
"Do you know the most ridiculous part?"
"James's parents—the Potters—they're pure-bloods too."
"But they don't talk about bloodlines all day."
"They care about whether James is happy. Whether he's made friends. Whether he's learning things he enjoys."
"Not whether he can uphold the family's glory."
Regulus remained silent.
He knew Sirius was telling the truth.
Although the Potter family was indeed a pure-blood family, they had always been portrayed as open-minded and normal compared to the rigid traditions of houses like the Blacks.
"So you have a home now," Regulus said quietly.
Sirius's expression softened slightly.
"Yes," he admitted.
"I have a home."
But moments later his face hardened again.
"You wouldn't understand."
"You've already chosen this place."
With that, Sirius walked back to his room.
The door closed softly behind him.
Regulus remained standing in the dim corridor.
From downstairs came the faint sound of Walburga complaining to Orion.
Regulus listened for a moment before quietly turning toward his own room.
I understand, he thought.
But I will not make that choice.
Sirius's home was Gryffindor, the Potter family, and his group of friends.
But how long could that protect him?
And more importantly—could Sirius protect them?
When Lord Voldemort truly rose to power…
When war engulfed the wizarding world…
When Muggle-born friends became targets…
Sirius would certainly resist.
But resistance without power was meaningless.
Without power, he would be unable to protect anything.
Regulus shook his head gently, dismissing the thought, and entered his room.
At the end of July, Orion set up a simple dueling field in the backyard of Grimmauld Place.
He wanted to test Regulus's combat abilities before his first year at Hogwarts.
"Hogwarts is not merely a school," Orion explained calmly.
"There is competition, conflict, and hidden struggles there."
"You must know how to protect yourself."
He stepped back and raised his wand.
"The rules are simple: only non-harmful spells."
"Begin."
Orion did not show mercy simply because his opponent was an eleven-year-old child.
The moment the duel began, he flicked his wand.
A silent Expelliarmus shot forward with astonishing speed, targeting Regulus's wrist.
Regulus did not dodge.
He did not even raise a wand.
Instead, he calmly lifted his left hand and opened his palm.
The red spell struck an invisible barrier half a meter in front of him.
Silver sparks scattered through the air.
A silent, wandless Shield Charm.
Orion's eyebrows lifted slightly.
He continued attacking.
"Impedimenta!"
"Leg-Locker Curse!"
"Petrificus Totalus!"
Spells fired from multiple angles, each arriving faster than the last.
Yet Regulus did not move from his position.
He stood calmly with his hands resting at his sides.
Occasionally, he adjusted the angle of his fingers.
Each spell was intercepted just before reaching him.
Some were deflected.
Some dissipated.
Others were absorbed completely.
Regulus did not create a large Shield Charm to cover his entire body.
That approach would consume too much magic and could easily collapse under continuous attacks.
Instead, he cast multiple miniature shield charms in rapid succession.
Each shield appeared precisely where a spell was about to strike.
Once the spell was blocked, the shield instantly disappeared.
The process repeated again and again.
Thirty seconds later, Orion lowered his wand.
"You are using your consciousness to control magic directly," he said slowly.
"You are bypassing the casting process."
His voice carried unmistakable astonishment.
Even among elite Aurors, such techniques were extremely rare.
Yet his second son—only eleven years old—was already performing it effortlessly.
"Yes," Regulus admitted calmly.
"Without incantations or gestures acting as intermediaries, the response time is faster, and the energy consumption is lower."
Orion stared at him silently for a long moment.
"Who taught you this?"
"I figured it out myself," Regulus replied.
In truth, the technique was a natural side effect of his magic guidance circulation.
Orion remained quiet for a long time.
His gaze toward his son became complicated.
There was pride.
There was surprise.
And there was a faint trace of concern.
Finally, he spoke.
"You are exceptional, Regulus."
"You have exceeded my expectations."
"Thank you," Regulus replied politely, lowering his head slightly.
Orion stepped forward and gently placed a hand on his son's shoulder.
"You may achieve extraordinary things in the future," he said.
"But at Hogwarts, you only need to be an outstanding student."
"You do not need to appear abnormal."
"Do you understand?"
"I understand."
"I will control how much I reveal."
After the assessment, Orion led Regulus to the deepest section of the family vault—an inheritance chamber that very few members of the Black family had ever entered.
Only several black wooden shelves stood inside the quiet room.
Orion retrieved three items.
The first item was a ring.
It was made of silver and engraved with the crest of the Black family.
However, it was not the authentic ring worn by the head of the house.
It was merely a replica.
"This ring does not carry the authority of the head of the family," Orion explained as he handed it over.
"But it can sense the family's protective magic."
"If another member of the Black family falls into mortal danger while you wear it, the ring will grow hot."
"The higher the temperature, the greater the danger."
Regulus accepted the ring carefully.
Although it granted no authority, it still symbolized responsibility.
And that responsibility was Sirius.
The second item was a notebook.
Its cover was made of black leather that felt strangely warm to the touch.
There was no lock.
Only someone with Black family blood could open it.
"This notebook was created using the blood of our ancestors and certain secret arts," Orion said.
"Anything written inside will automatically be encrypted."
"Only the author can fully read it."
"To anyone else, it will appear as meaningless symbols."
"If someone attempts to forcefully decode the text, the contents will destroy themselves."
The message was clear.
Orion understood that Regulus might research dangerous knowledge in the future.
Instead of forbidding it, he simply gave his son a safe method to record it.
The third item was an amulet.
It was a simple silver ornament containing a small piece of dark gray meteorite at its center.
The surface of the stone carried the texture of a fusion crust.
"This meteorite was brought back from Northern Europe by one of our ancestors," Orion explained.
"It is said to have come from beyond the heavens."
"For centuries, no one has discovered its magical properties."
"Except for one thing."
"It never gathers dust."
"And it always maintains this same temperature."
Regulus accepted the amulet.
The stone felt smooth and faintly warm in his palm.
It almost felt as though something alive was quietly flowing within it.
"I believe it suits you," Orion said thoughtfully.
"Because your gaze is always directed toward places far beyond our world."
Finally, Orion placed his hand on Regulus's shoulder one last time.
"Hogwarts may seem like a small world," he said quietly.
"But you must always remember…"
"There are worlds beyond this world."