In True Slytherin Fashion

Regulus proudly wrapped his green scarf around his neck as he sat down in the Slytherin section of the stands. The match between his House's team and Ravenclaw's was about to start - the referee, his flying instructor Madam Hooch, was already on the field. Regulus took in the imposing sight of the full Quidditch pitch on a game day as he tried to catch his breath. He and his friend Rabastan had raced one another over the frosted path all the way from the castle. There'd been no way they'd be late for their very first Quidditch game at Hogwarts, oh no!

Loud cheers rose from the crowd as both teams walked out of the changing rooms and onto the pitch. The commentator presented Ravenclaw first, then Slytherin, the players raising their brooms over their heads in a salute when named. Regulus felt as though he were about to burst with House pride as he cheered the green- and silver-clad players. It felt good to be a Slytherin today.

The Snitch, Bludgers, and Quaffle were released and the game was on. It was fast and brutal. Regulus had trouble keeping up with everything that was happening. Here, a Ravenclaw Beater deflected a Bludger from his Chaser's path. There, a Slytherin Chaser intercepted a pass and bolted towards the goalposts, Quaffle secured under his arm. Over there, the second Bludger almost hit the Slytherin Seeker. Oh, on the opposite side of the pitch the Ravenclaw Keeper blocked the Quaffle thrown by a Slytherin Chaser - not the one who'd intercepted it just moments before - he must have missed a pass.

After half an hour, Regulus was dizzy from his attempt to see everything everywhere at once. He decided to watch the crowd instead. It proved much more interesting. Everyone's attention was riveted on the game, oblivious to the observer. The rhythm of play on the pitch ruled everything. Faces lit up or frowned, voices roared with cheers or boos, pennants were waved green or blue - everything was in tune to the movement of Quaffle and Bludgers and players on their brooms. The commentator became superfluous: Regulus could tell what was going on, who had scored or missed, simply by watching the crowd's reaction.

A flicker of light caught his eye. The shimmer seemed to come from beneath the front row of seats, a fact that roused his curiosity. Tilting his head slightly to get a better view, Regulus saw the lighted tip of a wand, its glow bathing its owner's face. The young wizard gasped. He recognised the chin and cheekbones - so much like his own - but the large laughing eyes and the slightly thinner nose were distinct. Sirius. Of course. In the shadows surrounding his brother could be seen the dark silhouettes of his friends. Mischief in the making, no doubt.

The Gryffindors, unaware that they had been found, kept working on whatever prank they had planned. The Slytherin boy was frozen, unsure of what to do. The victim of his brother and his little gang's antics would be one of his own House members. He raised his eyes to identify under whose seat Sirius and his friends were labouring - Severus Snape. He should have known. The enmity between them wasn't a secret, far from it. Regulus himself didn't know the older boy very well. Since his Sorting, Snape had seen him as nothing more than a replica of his brother - and therefore despicable. Still, the greasy-haired student was a Slytherin. It was Regulus's duty to defend his House.

Wasn't it also his duty to stand by his brother? He returned his gaze to the moving shadows beneath the benches. He missed Sirius, he admitted to himself as he surveyed the familiar features. A dazzling smile would soon grace his face, probably accompanied by exuberant laughter. Wasn't playing tricks Sirius's greatest joy?

Suddenly, Regulus was stirred from his whirling thoughts as Sirius turned towards him and inadvertently met his gaze. They locked eyes. The younger Black heard Rabastan's cheers next to him. He felt the chill wind on his face. He saw the green pennants waved all around him, from the corner of his eye. Nothing registered.

Then something clicked inside of himself and he winked at his roguish Gryffindor brother. Sirius beamed at him. A true smile. The first since his Sorting, three months prior. This was all Regulus wanted. All he needed.

A bang erupted and a cloud of red and gold smoke rose from Snape's direction. Regulus turned his gaze towards it and feigned a horrified surprise at the sight of the greasy lion's head that topped the Slytherin's shoulders. He jeered at the ever-so-daring Gryffindors along his Housemates, hiding his mirth. He would never have waived his House honour aside, even for his brother, but he didn't have to. In true Slytherin fashion, he'd found a way to get everything: a smile from his brother and his Slytherin reputation intact - as long as he played his part well.

Sirius and his friends were caught as they exited the stands' understructure, a library volume bookmarked at the telltale spell in hands. While Professor McGonagall scolded them for their dangerous stunt, ranting about the heavy risks of human-animal transfiguration, the Black brothers' eyes met again. Neither words nor smiles were exchanged, but their gazes spoke for them. They'd both surprised one another today.

31/01/2004