Chapter Text
Regulus takes as long as possible to unpack his trunk on the first night back at Hogwarts.
This shouldn't be a particularly time-consuming task, since he left most of his things at school over the winter holidays, but he stretches it out as much as he can, unfolding and re-folding each pair of socks with excessive care, faking indecision about how best to arrange his ties, and occasionally pausing to flip through one of the books he brought back to Hogwarts with him. It's essential to seem natural, or at least somewhat natural. Regulus would prefer to avoid attracting suspicion from his roommates.
Well, one roommate in particular.
The Slytherin fifth-year boys' dorm is small and always has been. There are three of them, although which three has changed over the years, what with Emma Vanity moving to the girls' dorm in the middle of their first year and Evan Rosier joining Regulus and Barty Crouch at the start of their second. Normally, this makes it very easy to have private conversations with Barty, as Evan doesn't spend much time in their room and there's nobody else to worry about. The exceptions to this rule being the first and last nights of term, because Evan is a chronic overpacker who frequently ends up charming his wardrobe and bookshelf to make everything fit. This is something Regulus should have remembered when he decided to tell Barty about his plan on the first night back. But he forgot, so here he is, pretending to contemplate the proper placement for a pair of shoes while watching Evan unpack out of the corner of his eye and wondering how many cloaks one person could possibly need.
Strictly speaking, he could come up with some excuse to leave with Barty and have this conversation elsewhere, but that option is more complicated than it's worth. There are very few places at Hogwarts where one can have a conversation with absolute privacy—at least, not without setting up some time-consuming and conspicuous wards. Besides, both Barty and Regulus leaving at the same time for a reason other than classes or meals would be noticeable. Regulus's fledgling plan needs some time to solidify before he makes it public knowledge. Thus, he needs to wait for Evan to leave, which means picking up another book at random and flipping through it as if it's suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.
Unfortunately, the book he's picked up turns out to be the Charms textbook, which falls open to the section on the Animation Charm, where the spine's creased from Regulus spending so much time staring at it over the holidays. He carefully does not wince and does his best to look deeply fascinated.
But his best is perhaps a little too good, because Evan says, "Regulus, you should have told me you spontaneously developed a passion for Charms over the holidays. I've been dying to find someone to talk to about the underlying theory besides Professor Flitwick, and Emma refuses to oblige."
Oh, absolutely not.
Regulus can attribute any and all outward composure in the face of such a suggestion to Mother and Narcissa's examples of unshakable poise (or nearly unshakable, in Mother's case). Having spent his childhood learning from them is the only thing that prevents him from shuddering now. But when he looks up from the page, Evan is grinning, which is a sign that he's probably joking.
Probably.
Still, this is a path that Regulus needs to cut off before anything disastrous can happen, like Evan actually talking to him about Charms theory. "It's never too early to begin studying for OWLs."
The smile melts into a melodramatic sigh of a sort that Regulus normally sees from Evan when Geoff announces extra practices for Slytherin's Chasers. Despite the ostensible disappointment, his blue eyes crinkle up at the corners, as if he and Regulus are in on the same private joke. "I was afraid you'd say that. At least for a brief moment I lived in a world where I didn't know anyone who preferred studying for OWLs to unpacking."
"Maybe Regulus is just trying to make you feel less alone in spending an hour unpacking all your shit." Barty is noticeably not unpacking. He spent ten minutes on it, then loudly announced that he was bored and sprawled out on his bed with a book. (Barty's one of the tallest people in their year, which means he can take up an entire bed quite easily, provided he does his best imitation of a starfish.) Regulus didn't get a good look at its cover before Barty opened it, but judging by the size, he's guessing that it's one of those awful Cyprian Silkwood novels. If Regulus wanted to be subjected to that much rambling, he'd pay attention to Professor Binns. Then again, he keeps buying them for Barty as birthday gifts, so perhaps he only has himself to blame whenever Barty wants to talk about the latest plot arc.
Evan glances amusedly in Barty's direction. "It'll take you that long too, you know."
"Oh, I'm done."
He looks pointedly from Barty to his trunk, still half-full of a jumble of whatever Barty felt was necessary when he packed his things, whenever that was. Sometime around three in the morning, most likely.
Barty follows Evan's gaze to his trunk and shrugs. "I already put away everything that might wrinkle. What does it matter if the rest of my stuff is sitting in my trunk as opposed to anywhere else?"
(When Barty was sorted into Slytherin, there were a few older students who doubted that he was truly one of them, given his by-the-book father, but nobody can deny his pragmatism. Especially when it lets him avoid doing things he doesn't want to do.)
"You horrify me," Evan says cheerfully as he begins putting his shoes away. Regulus has lived with Evan long enough to know that he always puts shoes at the bottom of his trunk, which means he should be getting close to being done, which means Regulus can put down the Charms textbook and get back to his very slow unpacking. He still has most of his shirts left. He can stretch that out for at least ten minutes.
Nothing really depends on Regulus communicating his plan to Barty as soon as possible. If Evan takes forever to put his shoes away, it's not as if Regulus's future will go up in smoke. It's just that he's tired of keeping it to himself. When the plan only exists in Regulus's mind, it's nebulous, abstracted, less a plan than a possibility. It doesn't feel real.
He wants it to be real.
Each shirt has been folded crisply to fit in his trunk, but the sharp creases fall out one by one as Regulus picks them up and puts them away. Kreacher is good with clothes, so these enchantments will last for a month or so even without him around to maintain them. After that, Regulus will simply have to hope they don't wrinkle too obviously before he can bring them home over spring break.
Not that anybody at Hogwarts except him will really care if they do. But for as long as Regulus can remember, he's checked his clothes for wrinkles, both when he puts them on and when he has an opportunity to look in a mirror. It started as a simple daily task, one of the things every Black had to do, because they weren't the sort of family to be unkempt. Then it changed slowly from habit to compulsion, Regulus growing neater and more fastidious as Sirius embraced wrinkled clothes and shaggy hair and sitting with his feet propped up on the nearest table. Somewhere along the way, Regulus started to hate the idea of not feeling put together. The closest he ever gets is immediately after a grueling quidditch practice, the kind that leaves even Evan and Megan Fleming, Slytherin's second-year Beater, subdued on the walk back to the castle. And even then, quidditch gear is its own kind of defense against anyone who might otherwise judge the flyaways in Regulus's hair or the redness of his face. Dishevelment is permissible when it's in pursuit of the Quidditch Cup. At all other times, though, Regulus is Heir Black, and he can't let anyone forget it. It was difficult enough to rebuild respect for the title after Sirius all but burned it to the ground and make his peers understand that even though he came to the title of heir later than most, he is in fact extremely well-suited to the position.
Evan puts away his last pair of shoes and closes his trunk with a flourish. The flourish proves to have been a bit too dramatic, as a few strands of short golden hair fall in his face and he has to push them back out of the way. "Right, it's far too quiet in here, so I'm going to the common room. See you later."
Then he's gone without a backward glance. Evan is like that—always chasing whatever seems most interesting at the moment. Regulus is pretty sure it's a result of constantly jumping from conversation to conversation with every single guest at the Rosiers' various parties.
As soon as the door is closed, Barty sticks a bookmark in his book and sits up. "What's up with you?"
"So much," Regulus says, with more honesty than he would permit when talking to literally anyone else. "Was it obvious?"
He shrugs. Barty shrugs like he's never been reprimanded for doing it, which is because he hasn't been. His father may be strict, but he mostly cares about Barty's marks, and his mother is much more relaxed. "I never know what Evan notices and what he doesn't. If he's suspicious that you're up to something, it's definitely because you pretended to be absorbed in reading the Charms textbook of all things."
"I'll have you know I spent quite a bit of the holidays doing just that, and it actually was because of OWLs."
"Ugh, don't remind me." The look Barty sends at his own stack of textbooks seems to hint at a desire for them to spontaneously burst into flame. "My father wouldn't stop talking about them. And rattling off lists of which entry-level jobs in which Ministry departments require which NEWTs, and so on and so forth. I made a point of not remembering any of it. Please don't tell me that you pretended to forget how to fold socks because you wanted to talk about OWLs. I'm not strong enough to fight that war on two fronts."
Regulus spent quite a bit of time mulling this over on the train, in the brief snatches of time when he could be certain that nobody would be asking for his opinion on what was being said for a minute or two. He's concluded that the best way to open this conversation is simply to rip off the bandage. There's no way of knowing when Evan will reappear, after all. "You're in luck. I want to talk about the real war."
Barty's brow furrows. "Did something happen? I thought you were trying to stay out of it."
Regulus is about to dive into a recount of what happened, but then the implication behind Barty's wording hits him. "I thought we were both trying to stay out of it. Did something happen to you?"
He shifts uncomfortably. Barty was not raised like Regulus was, and as a result, he displays his emotions with an ease that still feels foreign to Regulus, even after years of them being best friends. The careful neutrality on Barty's face now is an expression that Regulus is perhaps overly familiar with, though. (Maybe even one that Barty picked up from him.) "I mean, I already told you, my father's been a pain in the arse recently. I need a career option other than 'Ministry official' or 'family disappointment.' I'm not letting him win."
"Obviously not. How does this relate to the war?"
There are not many people at Hogwarts who have the nerve to look at Regulus as if he is stupid. Of the people who do, Barty is his favorite. However, that does not mean Regulus particularly appreciates it, even coming from him.
"We both know," Barty says delicately, "that everyone with connections is gathering on one side of it."
Oh.
Right.
Suddenly, Regulus understands the 'you're being stupid' look. The clear oversight, paired with needing Barty to lead him to a conclusion that he should have already thought of on his own, leaves him feeling like he's stepped on a trick stair and fallen on his face.
Because Regulus should have thought of this already. At Hogwarts, Barty has very little need for networking. Being close with Regulus gives him more than enough social capital to secure his position as a respected member of Slytherin. But this is Hogwarts, where Sacred Twenty-Eight heirs are the highest ranking people around. They won't be here forever. Regulus should never have forgotten that the hierarchies established at Hogwarts are temporary, destined to falter and break after they graduate.
Outside of the castle, Regulus depends on his parents, who wouldn't be thrilled about extending their friendship to anyone even loosely associated with the DMLE, no matter how good Barty is at keeping secrets from his father. They're aware that Regulus and Barty are friends, of course, and tolerate it on the grounds that Barty has no close ties to any other Sacred Twenty-Eight families that might result in complicated loyalties. (Evan doesn't count, nor do their yearmates Emma Vanity and Maeve Bulstrode, because Barty is closer with Regulus than he is with any of them.) But tolerating Regulus's friendship with someone who is less than ideal (though at least better than James Potter) is different from actually expending effort in order to help a blood traitor with nothing to offer in return.
Which is another big problem. Barty may disagree with his father on most things, but they're both vehement blood traitors. It was Barty's refusal to accept conversational defeat in their first year that made Regulus begin to question the institution of blood purity.
But Regulus was raised to be a blood purist the same way Barty was raised to be a blood traitor. If one of them could be swayed, so can the other.
Who would sway Barty, though? There are a few outspoken blood purists at Hogwarts, the loudest ones being a cluster of generally unpleasant bullies among Slytherin's sixth- and seventh-years. As far as Regulus is aware, Barty doesn't like them, but he's positive that there are many more blood purists who just aren't speaking up about it because they don't want to be associated with the likes of Mulciber and the Carrows. So... there are possibilities.
But it still doesn't make any sense. Barty can't possibly be intending to throw all of that out the window and dive into an ideology he's scorned his whole life for the sake of getting one over on his father. He can't.
And they're best friends. Barty would have said something if he were actually considering changing his mind about blood purity.
Unless he decided not to say anything because he knew Regulus would try to persuade him otherwise.
No. That's never stopped Barty from speaking his mind. He doesn't care for holding his tongue. It's part of why they're friends. So Regulus needs to... needs to take it on faith that Barty's being honest about his reasoning.
That doesn't mean he's going to accept it without question, though.
Barty's raised a straw-blond eyebrow at him, which means Regulus has been silent for too long as he turns that over in his head, so he opens his mouth and says something. "The side that tortures Muggleborns. Just so we're clear."
It feels awkward, too abrupt, too blunt, more like Sirius than he cares to be. But he's said it now. There's no going back.
Barty responds quickly, as if he expected Regulus to bring that up, which he probably did. "I didn't say it was a good plan. But, you know, it's an option."
"An unnecessary one." Still too blunt, too forceful, and Regulus makes himself pull back. He hasn't spent this much time watching Mother to toss everything he's learned from her out the window. Sirius was Mother's weak point, the only person who could get her to phrase anything in a less-than-genteel manner. Regulus doesn't want to imitate her at her worst. He is in control of himself and he will maintain that control. It's not like Barty's gone and gotten himself Marked already.
"That depends on how the next couple of years go, doesn't it?" Barty says.
"Yes, but also no," Regulus says, and he pivots, because he needs a more substantial counterargument and he has an excellent one to use. "This is exactly the kind of thing I wanted to talk to you about."
And it seems that he's chosen a good time. Who knows what might have happened if Regulus had waited a little longer to bring this up? Barty may be a lifelong blood traitor, unusual for Slytherin, but he's as goal-oriented as the rest of them. If he decides joining the Death Eaters is the best path forward, he will follow through. Regulus doesn't even want to see Barty and Bellatrix in the same room, much less working together. But if he doesn't provide a better option, then he might not be able to do anything about it.
Regulus already wanted Barty on his side. The situation hasn't changed. It's just that now the stakes are higher.
He can still make this work.
"But you changed your mind over the holidays too." Barty's looking at him with clear skepticism now. He and Evan are both blond, but that's largely where the resemblance ends. Barty is sharp where Evan is sunny, and his skeptical look is even better than Narcissa's. "At least, that's what I'm assuming, since you brought this whole thing up. You can't be about to tell me that you want to join Dumbledore. Just go to your dear cousin Bella and ask her to kill you, it'll be quicker."
Barty makes an excellent point. Or he would, if Regulus were actually planning to go anywhere near Dumbledore's ragtag group of vigilantes. "I have a better solution. It requires neither swearing allegiance to Dumbledore nor torturing Muggleborns."
Even deeper skepticism. "Fleeing the country?"
"No."
"Alright, I'm tentatively intrigued. Hit me with it."
"Consider this." Regulus lets himself smile a little, rather than maintaining his customary neutrality—it's just Barty, and he is rather pleased with himself. "The war as it stands right now is between two sides. Dumbledore has set it up as a battle of dark and light, and the Dark Lord is playing along, probably because he realizes that there are quite a few Dark families who don't care about blood purity one way or another but do care about being able to practice Dark Arts."
Strictly speaking, there are a few families, like the McKinnons, who would probably sacrifice their family magic (or just hush it up even more) rather than support the eradication of Muggleborns. They're in the minority, though. Old pureblood families, the kind that have continued practicing certain magics and developing familial specialties even once the Ministry declared them Dark Arts, have remained pureblood specifically because they don't make a habit of welcoming outsiders, especially Muggleborns, to share in their most closely guarded secrets. The Blacks are the oldest and purest of the Dark families, so to say Regulus is familiar with this mindset would be a vast understatement. The reigning theory is that accepting anyone who wasn't raised to have respect for the Dark Arts (and a healthy enthusiasm for breaking laws) is a sure way to have all of one's family secrets revealed. People have been disowned or killed for less. If there is one thing every Dark family agrees on, it is that they do not want a Ministry crackdown.
"As long as this is how the war is set up, Dumbledore and the Dark Lord can divide up the magical world between the two of them and amass as much power as possible in doing so," Regulus says. "Then one side will win and attempt to exterminate the other, and the whole cycle will begin again, just like with Grindelwald. Does everything make sense so far?"
"War is always inevitable between intelligent creatures," Barty drones in an unexpectedly good impression of Professor Binns. "Yes, all clear. And?"
"There are two pain points. Blood purity and Dark Arts. And other factors like creature rights and such, but those only tend to come up when both sides are competing for allegiance from a nonhuman group. Dumbledore is a champion of Muggleborn rights, so they flock to him, as do blood traitors. The Dark families who feel that their standing is threatened by Muggleborn advancement join whatever the other side is. Yes?"
"Yes. So?"
"So, this is a dance that has been going on for generations. Two sides, a war with immense loss of life, and then we start over with a new leader rising to take the place of whoever lost the last time. That doesn't appeal to me, personally."
"You've gone into lecture mode, Reg." Which is Barty's long-established way of informing Regulus that it's time for him to get to the bloody point.
"Nearly there, I promise." Regulus spent most of the train ride planning out this speech, so Barty is going to hear the whole thing whether he likes it or not. "This entire cycle is dependent on two sides, one that supports Muggleborns and one that supports Dark Arts. If a third side is introduced, one that can do both, then the cycle is ruined. That third side can siphon off support from both Dumbledore and the Dark Lord and leave them fighting a meaningless war of attrition as the rest of us move on. If we play our cards right, we can even put an end to the other two sides ourselves, and then the last victory will be ours for the taking."
The best thing about Barty is that Regulus has never once had to slow down for him. He hardly bats an eyelash as Regulus lays out the plan. Then he tilts his head, which is presumably a sign that the implications have hit him. "You're putting together a third side that's pro-Muggleborn? Do your parents know?"
The implications have indeed hit. "Yes, I am, and no, they don't. I'll inform them once it's too late for them to do anything about it." Not that Regulus has any idea yet of when that will be, but he'll figure it out.
"Getting people to back you without your parents' support will be tough."
Regulus raises an eyebrow. "And pledging your life to He-Who-Tortures will be easier?"
"Fair enough." Barty is starting to smile. "So what exactly are you offering me?"
"I should hope it's a simple choice." It seemed that way on the train, while Regulus was unpacking, all the way up until Barty brought up the Death Eaters. But all he can do right now is put his cards on the table, wait to see how Barty responds, and act accordingly.
So Regulus takes a breath and makes his offer. "Foot soldier in the Death Eaters? Or would you rather be my right hand?"
Barty grins. "Don't ask stupid questions."
Which is pretty much exactly what Regulus thought Barty would say.
But having the confirmation lifts a weight off of his chest anyway. He didn't want to do this without Barty. He'd manage, of course, but Barty was right about it being a difficult path to walk. Regulus doesn't want to do it alone. He especially doesn't want to do it alone as he watches Barty vanish into the ranks of the Death Eaters. (The irony is that maybe then Regulus's parents would accept them being friends, as opposed to just tolerating it.)
Step one of his plan, securing Barty's support, has been completed. Now he gets to move on to step two: chipping away at Voldemort and Dumbledore's power. If he makes enemies, so be it. As the spare, he could afford to sit back, be noncommittal, make vague statements of agreement with every side. He can't do that anymore. If he never makes any enemies, he'll never gain more true allies.
That being said, at this stage, attempting to make himself a known foe of both Voldemort and Dumbledore is far too dangerous. While he's gathering support, he'll focus on some more manageable enemies. People he can cut down easily, who will have difficulty getting back at him for it.
Fortunately, Regulus knows exactly where to start.