Little Leo

He pulled his cloak tighter around him as he stared intently at the bottom of his empty glass. Shoving it away, he ordered another firewhiskey. When it came, he downed half of it in one gulp, shuddering as the liquid burned its way down his throat. He slammed the glass back down on the bar of The Leaky Cauldron and relished the noise it made.

None of the other patrons took any notice of him, and he rubbed his eyes exhaustedly, trying to stay awake. Running a hand through his unwashed black hair, he sighed deeply and took another swig from his glass.

A horrible itching sensation crawled over his left arm, and he fought back the temptation to scratch at it. The last thing he needed was for it to start bleeding again.

The Cauldron was rather full that afternoon, but not particularly noisy. Regulus Black allowed himself a small grin; people were afraid. The grin quickly faded when he remembered that he was one of them.

Whispers floated about the room, unchecked rumours about the Dark Lord. He's getting the giants to help him, some said. Others hissed, He's killed thousands of wizards to date. One witch, wearing a robe in a stunning shade of yellow, complained in the loudest voice that she dare not let her children out alone, for fear of their being blown up.

Regulus snorted. They had nothing to worry about--provided their blood was pure and they kept their heads down. The Dark Lord wouldn't kill just anyone. He had his reasons, like any other.

Killing, that was what it came down to, and he knew it. That was why he was a disappointment, and always would be. Because he didn't have it in him to kill. So what? He still believed in everything they stood for. He just didn't believe in how they achieved it.

All he had wanted was to make his family proud of him. That, too, had exploded in his face.

His palms grew sweaty and slid across the glass. He knew he wouldn't survive long on his present course, but it was too late to change it. It was too late for a lot of things. He would have to face the consequences of his decisions--a thought that filled him with dread.

There was a sudden loud crack as the door to the Cauldron burst open and slammed against the wall from the force of the entrance. Startled, Regulus knocked over his whiskey and cursed as the liquid oozed down the counter.

"Congratulate me!" boomed a new voiced that he thought he recognised with a terrible feeling in his stomach. "My wife has given birth to a son!"

"Well done, James!" exclaimed Tom, the bartender. A crowd swarmed around the newcomer, patting him on the back, laughing loudly, and offering their compliments. The transformation in the bar was astonishing: from quiet, fearful reflection to joyous celebration.

Potter. Regulus seethed; why, in all the bars in all of London did he have to walk into that one? He loathed Potter, like most of his House had, only he had the best reason for doing so.

"Drinks on me!" roared Potter, laughing and shaking hands.

"What's his name, James?" asked a bespectacled witch pleasantly.

"We named him Harry, Louise," Potter replied, beaming. "Lily insisted on naming him after her grandfather."

Drumming his fingers on bar, Regulus tensed and attempted to block Potter's obnoxious voice from his head. He had more important concerns, and was relatively certain that if he attempted to curse Potter in the Leaky Cauldron, the other patrons would protect the bastard. Why, Regulus had no idea.

Subsiding into gloomy thought, Regulus began to consider his options again. There were only two: stay a Death Eater and learn how to accept the murders, or leave. And the second one wasn't really an option.

Sighing to himself, Regulus thought about how he had got himself into this mess. The Dark Lord was charismatic, there was no doubt about that. He could convince a clear blue sky to start raining. That had only been the beginning.

Several of his friends from Hogwarts had been anxious to join Lord Voldemort and rid the world of Mudblood filth. Regulus, a born follower, had tagged along to hear the Dark Lord speak one evening in his seventh year. It had been like magic.

Lord Voldemort spoke quietly, but intensely. Regulus could see that he clearly believed in everything he said. That it was a cause worth dying for.

And his parents were so pleased, particularly his mother. She said he was a true son, a son to be proud of. That praise had left him with a glow for a long time.

But day by day, week by week, month by month, the magic slipped away. Spilt blood became the platform for the Dark Lord's cause, and Regulus was sickened by it. He just wasn't strong enough to say so out loud.

Feeling a heavy hand descend on his shoulder, Regulus was shaken from his reverie, and realised to his horror that Potter was actually speaking to him.

"Join me in a toast to my wife and son," said Potter boisterously, shoving a mead in his direction.

Regulus shrugged the hand off his shoulder, internally shuddering. Already on edge from his treacherous thoughts, he couldn't help but snap:

"I won't drink to you, your Mudblood, or your half-blood spawn."

It was fortunate, Regulus realised immediately, that no one else had heard him. Despite the opinions of the entire Slytherin population, Potter and his wife were well liked. He would find few allies in this crowd.

He had gone too far, too quickly, he knew, but it was too late to take it back. It was too hard to keep his hatred in check, not while Potter was celebrating the birth of a son and he was worrying about his own ever-approaching demise. Potter's expression lost most of its humour.

"Do I know you?" Potter asked with forced joviality. "Or, let me guess, you're one of those pureblooded twits who believes it's a sin to marry a Muggleborn. At least I married a witch, save your anger for one of those poor unfortunate souls who married a Muggle."

The sarcasm was thick in Potter's voice, and struggling to keep his temper in check (no mean feat), Regulus replied, "It isn't your Mudblood I have a quarrel with. It's you."

"Me?" Potter appeared genuinely surprised, but then he frowned. "Why, because I'm defiling my blood?"

"It has nothing to do with blood--at least not yours," retorted Regulus, once again staring into his empty glass. He immediately regretted this admission.

Confusion flitted across Potter's face again. "Who are you? Do I even know you?"

Furious, Regulus finally looked up, his grey eyes meeting James's hazel ones. "Don't remember me, do you? Don't I look familiar?"

Potter studied his face for a moment before visibly recoiling, which awarded Regulus some small manner of satisfaction.

"You look like...like Sirius," Potter said, gaping. "You're...you're his brother, aren't you? Regulus."

"Ten points to Gryffindor," Regulus spat. Sirius's name was one had hadn't heard in a good long while, and he wasn't that happy to be hearing it now. He got up from his seat, balling his hands into fists, longing to punch Potter right in the nose, new father or not. He managed to restrain himself.

"Sit down," instructed Potter firmly, indicating for Tom to come over. "Have a drink."

"Not by your coin."

"Just sit down and drink it," Potter replied irritably.

Regulus sat down reluctantly and eyed the beverage placed before him suspiciously. Potter was probably too noble to poison a man's drink. He took a sip and waited to see if he died.

When he didn't, he asked, "Why would you buy me a drink anyway?"

Potter smiled and drank from his own smoking concoction. "Well, I have a lot of enemies. Rather more than I can handle, actually. So the way I see it, if I can turn an enemy I didn't even know I had into, not an ally, but an impartial third party, so much the better for me."

Disgusted with himself for being lulled into a false sense of security and accepting a drink from a man he hated, Regulus shoved his glass away.

"Nothing you can say to me will make me hate you any less. I guarantee that."

"Why do you hate me so much?" asked Potter, looking bewildered as if he couldn't imagine being hated by anyone. He probably couldn't, Regulus thought bitterly. "What have I ever done to you? I mean, how old were you when I left school?"

"Fourteen," Regulus said in his iciest tones.

"Not even old enough to be a Prefect," Potter sighed. "I wouldn't have paid you any attention. I didn't, as far as I can remember. At best you were a tiny faceless child in green and silver robes. Were you a Prefect after I had gone?"

"Yes," said Regulus, his fury returning. How dare Potter just sit there so calmly telling him he was an invisible runt? That he didn't even show up on Potter's radar, that was how insignificant he was? He'd show Potter the meaning of insignificant all right.

"So why do you hate me, then?"

Regulus treated Potter to the full effect of his glare, a glare perfected by several generations of Black inbreeding. If there was one thing the Black family knew and passed along to their children, it was how to be angry.

"You turned Sirius against his family. You poisoned him, and changed him, and stole him away from me!"

Potter frowned. "You appear to be labouring under a misapprehension. I don't steal people. Sirius made his own choices, independently from me."

"Right," Regulus snapped. "He was fine before he left for Hogwarts. Two years there and you had him perfectly trained, didn't you? I thought his Sorting was the worst thing that could happen to our family. But I was wrong. You were."

He received a backhanded smack for his efforts. His face aching, Regulus could see out of the corner of his eye that while conversation in the Cauldron hadn't abated any, several of the patrons were throwing periodic glances in his direction. Why weren't they coming to tell Potter he was out of line? Then he remembered; they liked Potter.

"Bastard," sneered Regulus. "It's not enough to corrupt my brother, you have to take your violent tendencies out on me?"

"Listen, Black," Potter said softly, his eyes glittering dangerously, "you had better understand this right now. Sirius made a choice. Do you know what that is? No, I imagine you don't. I imagine you're the son who has always done what he was told. Never questioned, never argued, just obeyed. Look how fast I got you to have a drink."

Regulus flushed and opened his mouth to retort, but Potter wasn't finished.

"I didn't tell him to abandon his family, but from what he's told me, he hates the lot of them. Yes, that includes you. Hates your ideals, hates how you treat people you deem inferior, stop me when I've got it wrong."

He wanted to, he wanted to desperately, but the words wouldn't come, and he could only stare at Potter open-mouthed.

"You want to believe, don't you, that your brother was a fool. Well, maybe I'm a fool, too, but as far as I can see he's the one with a girlfriend, a steady job, and friends who would do anything for him." Potter looked at Regulus curiously. "What do you have?"

"Self-respect," Regulus retorted nastily.

Potter laughed. "Oh, you're good. You are a piece of work, all right."

"What's that supposed to mean?" demanded Regulus, bristling.

Taking a long sip from his beverage, Potter said, "Only that you're precisely what your parents have made you. A perfect little puppet."

Complete and irrational fury overtook Regulus at that point. "Keep your mouth shut about my family, Potter. You know nothing about them. Nothing."

"I've heard stories from Sirius," Potter said as if a few stories from such a biased point of view could do the Black family justice. Regulus's hand closed around his wand.

"And that makes you an authority?" An ugly look on his face, Regulus growled, "You're the one who stole Sirius from me, Potter! You turned him into your lackey! He's better than you, and he ought to know it, why he chooses to follow a sod like you around-"

This elicited a response that not even Regulus's insulting of his wife and child had achieved. "You shut your mouth, Black. I didn't steal Sirius from you. It's not my fault if he wanted a better brother."

"You're not his brother!" Regulus screamed, well aware that all the eyes in the room were watching him. Well, fine, let them stare! His face turned red and blotchy as he pulled out his wand. "You're just some arse who came along and corrupted him!"

He felt a restraining hand on his shoulder. A well-built wizard Regulus didn't recognise spoke to Potter.

"Is there a problem here, James?"

Regulus struggled out of the wizard's grip. Bastard! Potter had been the instigator in this situation, and he was being threatened?

Potter's face was red as well, and his glasses had slipped down his nose. Taking a deep breath, he ran a hand through his hair and shook his head slowly.

"No problem, David. Regulus and I were just having a conversation. I think perhaps he got a bit over-excited."

Biting his tongue to keep from cursing Potter, Regulus made no movements. He didn't particularly fancy being beaten to a bloody pulp by one of Potter's groupies.

Once the intimidating wizard had left, Potter fixed him with a frosty glare.

"Sit down and put your wand away. We're going to have a little talk."

Laughing humourlessly, Regulus resumed his seat, though not to talk to Potter. "Well, I can assure you I have no desire to talk to you."

"Who said you'd be doing any of the talking?" Potter flashed him something akin to a smirk. "Clearly you're unhappy."

"Says who?"

Potter looked pointedly at all the empty glasses which littered the bar in front of Regulus. Regulus shrugged.

"So what? Are you going to give me a lecture now? I'm not your child, Salazar be praised."

It was at this moment that Potter did something rather surprising. He turned to look at Regulus, and tears formed in his eyes.

"You know what kind of world we're living in?" Potter asked, choking on the words. Regulus leaned away from him; was he drunk already? "I have a son. My son. He was just born today. I should be with him right now, but Lily ordered me out for an hour or two. I was wandering around, thinking about my son. This world is a scary place, you know? Terrifying, actually. And I want my boy to grow up safe and happy."

"Why the bloody hell are you telling me all this?" Regulus demanded.

"Because." Potter turned his gaze away. "I know what you are."

"What?" Regulus froze; the mark on his arm began to burn and he squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. "What do you mean?"

"It's my job to hunt down people like you, Black. Your brother knows, I know, a good portion of the world probably knows."

Panic began to rise in Regulus's throat. He swallowed hard and nearly choked. Potter was in a dangerous mood, and though he may have been a lot of things, coward wasn't one of them. Regulus could be in real danger here. None of the other patrons of the Leaky Cauldron were likely to come to his rescue. Potter could kill him.

He stiffened. No, that was not going to happen. He was not going to die by Potter's wand.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," Regulus said, doing his best to keep his voice from wavering. He was only moderately successful.

Before he could register what was happening, Potter had reached over and squeezed his left arm, right where his mark was, and he let out a yelp of pain. Potter responded only with an empty, but somewhat satisfied smile.

Biting down on his lip until the throbbing went away, Regulus said, trying to keep fear from his voice, "Are you going to kill me then?"

Startled, Potter said, "What? No. I don't have a habit of killing people, providing of course they aren't trying to kill me."

"What then, send me to Azkaban?"

"I really hadn't planned on it."

"Well, what are you going to do?" Regulus asked exasperatedly. "Aren't I a threat to the future safety of your child?"

"You?" Potter let out a hoarse laugh. "No, you're not much of a threat. A nuisance, possibly, but not a threat."

Annoyed, Regulus snapped, "I could kill you here and now."

"Not bloody likely," Potter replied. "You want to know the real reason I'm saying all of this? Because of Sirius."

That had not been what Regulus was expecting. "What?"

"He's my best mate, like a brother to me." He paused to see if there would be an interruption, but Regulus was still speechless. "Look, I'm trying to tell you that you're mixed up in a dangerous business, but it doesn't have to be that way."

Relieved that Potter wasn't threatening him any longer, Regulus snorted. "Aw, well, thank you, Potter, I had no idea you were so concerned with my welfare. Don't you think I know what I've got myself into?"

Potter shook his head. "I think you're in over your head. It's not too late to make different choices, Regulus."

"Don't call me that," Regulus snapped. "Don't act like we're mates. And even if I did want to reconsider my 'lifestyle choices' it is too late. No matter what you or anyone else could tell me."

He added, "Besides, who's to say I don't enjoy wreaking havoc on the wizarding population?"

"Keep your voice down," Potter instructed. "I won't turn you in, but others might."

"Why aren't you about to do it? Too noble perhaps? Can't bear to see the little brother of your best mate carted off to Azkaban?"

Potter gazed steadily back at him. "No. I don't really care what happens to you. With you in Azkaban, that'd at least be one less thorn in my side. But, I didn't come here looking for a fight. I came to celebrate the birth of my son. You should thank him. He's the reason that you're not lying on the ground bleeding right now."

Regulus raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Oh really? Explain that one."

"I have realised today that family is the most important thing in the world. I care deeply about my family, and I will do everything in my power to make certain your side falls." Here Potter paused, looking at Regulus with an expression of deep pity. Regulus felt the anger which had been momentarily dormant rise in him again. He was not to be pitied. "I feel sorry for you, Regulus. You don't have anyone to love. Your family, the name and blood you're so proud of, they don't mean anything in the long run. You're utterly alone. And that's why I'm not going to do anything about you. Because you're tortured enough."

Regulus's expression turned murderous. "You know nothing about me, Potter. My blood and my name are part of who I am. And I believe that purity of blood matters. I believe in what You-Know-Who preaches. This makes me evil? Believe it or not, I've never killed anyone. Care to be the first?"

"If you don't change your beliefs, your life will be like this forever. Is that good news?"

"You seem to be insinuating I should be unhappy with my life."

"You should be. You wanted to talk about Sirius before, let's talk about him." Potter folded his arms. "We named him godfather to little Harry."

"How nice," Regulus said sarcastically. "It's almost as if I have a nephew."

Potter ignored him. "I don't care about you one way or another. I wasn't even aware of your existence until recently. But that's the point. Sirius still cares about you in some twisted fashion." He saw the confusion in Regulus's eyes and added, "Oh, don't mistake me, he still hates everything you believe in, and thinks you're a coward among other things, but you are family to him, like it or not. I think somewhere deep down he still hopes to redeem you."

"Redeem me," Regulus repeated. "Who does he think he is? Who does he think I am? Do you think you can redeem me, Potter? Do you? I am not some bloody supervillain, where deep down I have a sodding heart of gold!"

"Sirius is very important to me," Potter said without any great emotion. "And I don't like what your family has done to him. What you're still doing to him. He has nightmares about growing up in that house. And knowing that his own flesh and blood is out there torturing people, isn't making things any easier for him."

Regulus could only gape for a moment. "Well bollocks for him then! You don't know a bloody thing about me, Potter, don't pretend you do. You may think you know what I am, but I am not so easily read. I have depths and darkness inside me you can't even imagine--so don't for one minute think you can make me feel guilty for who I am or what I do. I believe in what I'm doing. How does that feel? Hm? I cannot be redeemed."

Potter was not looking at him, but staring off into space. Regulus, boiling with rage, was beginning to think he was dotty.

"Do you know why I don't believe in fate?" Potter asked, still staring at nothing.

"What?" Regulus asked, mystified. Potter jumped from one topic to another without any apparent bridge in between. He was clearly not all there.

"I don't believe in fate," Potter said slowly, taking a deep, shaking breath, "because in the course of one single day we make thousands of tiny choices which affect what happens in our lives. The smallest decision changes the course of the future, and it is changing every second. Deciding whether or not to have eggs with breakfast could save you from food poisoning. There are millions of what-ifs in the world, Regulus. Every moment, every choice, can lead to something different. Oh, sure, there are some of the larger choices which obviously affect our lives. Should I kill this man? Should I jump off this building? Should I tell my partner just how much I love her or him? But every choice leads to a different future. There are so many different paths that there can't possibly be one true one, one destined road to take."

Regulus stumbled slightly in his attempt to stand and pushed himself away from the bar, away from Potter the Insane. Tripping and falling to the ground, he could only stare, only watch in horror as Potter stood over him, looking calm. His eyes were without emotion.

"You'll have a million more choices to make," said Potter quietly, offering Regulus a hand to pull him to his feet. Regulus declined, unable to move at all. "Each one leading you somewhere slightly different. The change might not be major, not all at once, but each tiny decision you make will add up. Change the course of the future on your terms, Regulus. Don't decide to take what fate hands you on a silver platter."

"It's too late," Regulus hissed from the ground. "I can't change what's coming. To change it would be committing suicide."

Potter smiled and hauled Regulus to his feet against his will. He was suddenly very aware of how quiet it was in the bar and he felt as if all eyes were on him, watching him, judging him. He tried to look away, but the pull of Potter's gaze was too strong.

"Well," Potter said softly, "that's a change, isn't it?"

He released Regulus who stumbled backwards but remained standing. As Potter walked out of the bar, he paused for just a moment, speaking in a low tone, but loud enough for Regulus to hear.

"If your mission at any time threatens my family, Regulus, I will kill you. Your family will only be able to save you for so long."

And he was gone. Regulus clung to the bar for support, ignoring all of the eyes that were watching him. He half-fell onto the bar stool he had vacated earlier and ordered another drink. Clutching his aching face where he had been hit by Potter, Regulus scowled and muttered a series of inventive curses under his breath.

Who did Potter think he was? How dare he come into that bar and lecture as if he were some know-it-all saint? Potter didn't know a single thing about him or his life.

But he had a point.

Argh. Regulus slammed a fist down on the bar, tears of pain welling in his eyes. He was just so damned furious at himself for sitting there listening to Potter's prattle, and then actually having to admit that the man he loathed with ever fibre of his being might just actually be right.

It wasn't as if he weren't already thinking about it. It was just that Regulus was resigned to his fate. It was hopeless. It didn't matter that he was in over his head. It didn't matter that he didn't want to be a Death Eater any longer. He was trapped, and fuck Potter for only making that clearer.

Why that sod had to lecture him, as if he were some child! Telling him he had options, showing him a path that he wanted, genuinely wanted, but could never take.

He knew he didn't have what it took to be a Death Eater. But he didn't have what it took to leave, either.

"Hello, Regulus."

Turning, his heart beating in his throat, Regulus saw a man with his hood pulled low over his face. All the colour slipped from his face.

"Oh...ah...hello."

The man took a seat next to Regulus and continued to address him.

"I suppose you know why I'm here?"

Regulus swallowed and tried to keep his voice from wavering when he responded. "A mission, I suppose. That is, assuming you're one of us."

"One of whom?"

"Ah." Regulus began to sweat. He was being careless, and if he didn't start thinking he was going to be killed. Now he began to seriously regret all those alcoholic beverages. "I assumed..."

"In this case you would be correct, of course. But you're being reckless. I'll overlook it this time."

"Oh...good."

The stranger didn't remove his hood, but he placed a heavy hand on Regulus's shoulder. Then he laughed.

"Don't look so concerned, Regulus," he chortled, punching Regulus in the arm in what was not really a friendly way. Regulus winced. "You're valuable to our circle."

"I am?" Regulus was greatly surprised. He had never thought of himself as valuable to the Death Eaters before.

"Certainly. Your position is inestimable. After all, your brother is one of the key members of the light side, and best friend to one of the largest thorns in our master's side."

Regulus's expression fell. "I'm valuable because of who I'm related to."

"Of course," the Death Eater replied carelessly. "You certainly didn't think you were valuable on your own merits, did you?"

That was the final straw. Regulus didn't want to be considered important because of Sirius. That had been the story of his life for his entire childhood. He didn't matter. He was only important because of his name, not because of who he was.

He was giving in. Potter may have been a horrible prick, but he was right. He, Sirius, and thousands of people who weren't Death Eaters, they had lives. They had families and love, and careers and...friends. He had none of that, but he wanted it, if he could.

"I want out," he said abruptly. The Death Eater next to him choked slightly and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, turning his hooded head towards Regulus. He radiated bewilderment.

"Funny, Black. The master appreciates humour."

"I'm not joking." Regulus took a deep shuddering breath. "Look, I know, and I'm assuming that because you're here you know, too, that I'm no good."

"We are aware that you've failed your last two missions and endangered your comrades. One of your fellows was nearly captured by Aurors because of your incompetence. If he were not such a powerful wizard, he would be in Azkaban as we speak."

Regulus cringed. "So I want out. You don't need to worry about me turning traitor, I won't give names to the Ministry or anything like that, but I can't do this anymore, and I'm only a liability to the group."

"Do you not believe in our cause any more?"

"No, no, of course I do," Regulus said quickly. "I just can't do what the Dark Lord asks. I'm just not talented enough."

"It's true you are weak," mused the Death Eater. Regulus clenched his fists and tried not to say anything. "I suppose we could work something out. Provided of course it doesn't get out."

Relief flooded through Regulus. He never imagined it would be so easy. "It wouldn't. I am discreet."

He still couldn't see the stranger's face properly, but he saw the Death Eater grin.

"Let me buy you a drink then, to celebrate your...freedom."

The relief was swept away in an instant. Regulus turned chalk-white and knocked over one of his empty glasses. Death Eaters did not buy each other drinks, that was one of the first lessons he had learned. They were not above poisoning one another.

The steaming mug was placed in front of him and he could only stare at it blankly. This was the end. Laughing bitterly to himself, Regulus only shook his head. He never thought it would come to this. He knew the Death Eater's response had been too quick, too easy, but he had dared to hope.

It was just like he had told Potter, it was too late. He was going to die.

"What are you waiting for?" the other man asked. "Let's toast to your bright future."

Regulus was ignoring the man's dark sarcasm, too intent on the beverage before him. It was poisoned, if he drank it, he'd die. If he didn't, he'd be taken down some dark alley and murdered.

How ironic that only moments after having that talk with Potter, he was facing his death. He wanted to laugh.

"Potter was here, you know," Regulus said in a sudden desire to make the most of his last minutes. "Knows what I am."

"What?" For the first time since arriving, the other man sounded scared. "How? Did you tell him?"

"No, he knew all on his own. Smart arse." Regulus beamed. "I'd just like to make announcement before we drink."

It was now or never.

He stood up and cleared his throat. Suddenly all eyes were on him. He could feel the Death Eater watching him with burning hatred, but ignored him. Regulus smiled at the crowd.

"I would simply like to announce that I was a Death Eater."

There were several gasps, and several wizards pulled out their wands. Other stood there, looking confused. Held up particularly, Regulus was sure, by his use of past tense. It occurred to him as he continued to speak, that he was rather drunk.

"I've renounced the Dark Lord. I'm leaving his service. That is all."

"You idiot," the Death Eater hissed as Regulus sat back down and a group of wizards converged on him. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

Regulus smiled. "Just making a choice, Peter."

The Death Eater gasped and Regulus picked up his drink.

"To little Harry Potter," he toasted in a loud voice. Many of those who were about to grab him paused. "May he live a long and happy life. A little Leo in a larger universe."

Then he drank.

After all, it was a change, wasn't it?