After dinner, Regulus went to the Library.
There were few students at this hour. Most were outside enjoying the warmer weather, while a few older students remained inside studying for their exams.
Madam Pince sat behind the desk, dusting books and keeping an eye on the room.
Regulus took his usual seat at the back, near the window and facing the door.
He opened a worn book titled Forgotten Ancient Magic and the Origin of the Soul. It was from the public shelves, so he did not need access to the Restricted Section.
The book was more like a collection of stories and legends than a serious academic work, but some of its theories caught his attention.
He soon reached a section about ritual magic and soul resonance.
According to the author, ancient wizards could perform certain advanced forms of magic without wands or incantations. Instead, they relied on ritual movements and the power of their souls.
The author gave several examples, including a French hermit who supposedly summoned rain after three days of meditation and an Ottoman astrologer who caused an entire army to become lost in the desert.
Most scholars considered such stories superstition or coincidence, but the author believed they were genuine.
Regulus continued reading until he heard light footsteps approaching from the doorway.
Lily came round from behind the shelves with a Potions book in her arms thick enough to serve as a brick, Advanced Potion-Making stamped across the cover.
A small purple satchel hung off her shoulder, and her red hair caught the reading room lamps.
Her green eyes curved when she spotted him. The corners of her mouth lifted, her pace picked up, and she dropped the book on the table and pulled out a chair.
Her smile spread. "Professor Regulus."
He looked up and smiled back. "Miss Lily."
She set the satchel on the corner of the table, opened the brick, fished out quill and ink bottle, and bent her head over the page.
They sat in silence, each reading, neither speaking.
Regulus shut his book and tapped the table once with a finger. Muffliato unfolded without a sound.
"I'll be away at least a week." He looked at her, his voice gentle. "We'll pause the weekend practice for now."
Lily's head came up, her finger stilling on the page, and she blinked twice.
She tilted her head, curious, and asked it lightly. "Where are you going?"
"Family business."
She waited. When nothing more came, she pushed out her lower lip, folded her arms on the table and rested her chin on them, and let it go.
Marcia had told her about this. Children of Pure-blood families reached a certain age and started having things to handle outside their schoolwork.
The older they got, the more of it there was. The world beyond the castle never ran short of demands.
She understood that well enough. Like rich Muggle families, where the children got old enough and started going in with the business.
She hadn't expected Regulus to be that busy already, though. He wasn't old enough. He was thirteen.
Watching his face, she said, "Regulus, do you ever think you might be a bit busier than everyone else your age?"
The concern in it was perfectly sincere, green eyes wide and round, as though she'd taken on the worrying herself.
"The rest of second year is out chasing butterflies on the lawn and you're off handling family business."
He laughed a little, matched her tone, and sighed. "You get used to it."
"That's still too much." She muttered it, then laughed with him, eyes crinkling.
She poked at the page with one finger, then looked up again. "Be careful."
He nodded. "I will. Don't worry."
Lily went quiet for a moment, running a fingertip back and forth along the spine of her book, then leaned in as though something had just come back to her, lowering her voice. "Listen, I've got to tell you..."
He leaned forward to meet her.
"Constant Protego. I practiced loads this week." A note of self-satisfaction crept in. "In History of Magic, while Professor Binns was doing the third goblin rebellion, I sat there and worked on it the entire lesson."
Then a trace of embarrassment surfaced. "And afterwards I couldn't stand up. Marcia and Susan had to take an arm each and walk me out of the classroom."
The corner of his mouth twitched upward.
"But I'm getting better." She held up one finger and measured a space in the air. "I can draw out about two seconds of stable thread now."
Warming to it, she glanced back toward Madam Pince, confirmed she was bent over her own work and looking nowhere near them.
She turned back, winked at him, and raised her right index finger, crooked slightly, her expression sharpening into focus.
A thread of silver-white rose off her fingertip, thin as spider silk, trembling in the air, almost too fine to see.
It hung there for roughly a second, flickered twice, snapped, and dissolved.
Lily drew her hand back and looked up at him, green eyes blazing with praise me, go on, praise me.
He nodded, serious about it. "Last time you couldn't produce a thread at all. Holding one for a second is real progress."
"More than a second!" She corrected him at once. "I tried in the dormitory last night and got it to nearly two..."
Her finger came up to demonstrate again. She checked the room and put it away. "Never mind. I'll try later. If Madam Pince catches me here I'll get another telling-off."
"Very good," he said, and meant it. "Big improvement. You've got real talent. What else would I expect from Miss Lily."
Her green eyes went round and her face flushed faintly. She stared at him a moment, then huffed. "You're humoring me again."
He smiled.
She glared, dropped her head to her book with her mouth still curved, got through a few pages, and looked up once more.
"There's Sensus Altus too." Her voice softened, savoring it. "I cast it once every night before bed. In the dormitory, facing the window. The first time I practiced, I looked at the moonlight and thought it was so beautiful that it turned into a habit. Cast it, watch the moon a while, end it, go to sleep."
His eyebrows lifted. "What did you see?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she went back through pictures nobody else could have seen.
"So much more." Her words came faster, spilling out. "Moonlight comes in strands. Not sheets, the way it normally looks. You can see the colors inside the light, layer on layer, blue underneath the silver, purple underneath the blue, going down deep and far. The stars are brighter, too. And you can hear things. Footsteps out in the corridor, which way the wind's blowing outside, even Knox rolling over. He flicks his tail first when he does."
She surfaced from it and laughed, sheepish. "Then I can't hold it any longer. It's exhausting. Every time I end up flat on the bed getting my breath back for ages. But every time is a bit better than the last."
He watched her, mouth curved, tone warm. "Very good. Lily's brilliant."
She lit up at that, then caught the phrasing. He'd said it exactly the way you'd say it to a small child.
She shot him a look, ducked her head, and grinned to herself anyway.
After a while she propped her chin in both hands and looked up at him from under her lashes.
He was here reading nearly every day. Every week they met in that abandoned classroom to work on spells. She'd grown used to it.
A week gone, at the very least. Something in her chest went hollow at that.
She didn't say so.
Instead she straightened, cleared her throat, arranged her face into severity, and pitched her voice with deliberate gravity. "Mr. Black, taking leave from school will put you behind. As your senior, I'm very concerned about your marks."
He took in the whole performance and played along. "My senior makes an excellent point."
Lily broke, laughing, then hauled her expression back into place, though her mouth had stopped cooperating.
She dragged the brick over in front of her and patted the cover. "If you fall behind on lessons, I can lend you last year's notes."
Then she leaned forward, dropping her voice, green eyes glinting with conspiracy. "Let me tell you a secret."
He tilted his head obligingly.
"The end-of-term exams at Hogwarts." Her voice sank as low as it would go, carrying the smug ring of a weapon drawn at last. "They hardly ever change."
She raised an eyebrow, mouth curling high. "Study my notes and I guarantee you an O."
He laughed, caught out by it.
"That's an enormous help," he said, playing his part, sincerity poured on thick. "You know how it is. If I don't come home with good marks, I'll never hear the end of it. How could a Black child possibly get an E. An absolute disgrace to the family."
Lily agreed completely. She nodded hard, her whole face full of purpose. "Don't worry, leave it with me. Anything you can't follow, I'll tutor you."
She thumped her chest and lifted her chin. "You'll have a wonderful holiday. I've got you covered!"
He nodded too, smiling. "I'll be in your hands, then, Miss Lily."
Her green eyes flashed. "Call me Professor Lily."
He inclined his head slightly, straight-faced. "Professor Lily."
She beamed, green eyes curving into two crescents, red hair swinging with it.
Then she assumed the posture, folding her hands on the table, mimicking a certain someone's usual bearing, nodding faintly, voice steady and low. "Mr. Black."
They looked at each other and both laughed.
Nearly seven, and full dark outside now.
Regulus stood and closed the book on the table. "I leave tomorrow. I should go and get ready."
Lily rose with him, swung the satchel onto her shoulder, and gathered up the brick.
She stood beside the table, lifted her face, and gave him a smile. "Be careful, Mr. Black."
He looked at her, his gaze soft. "I will."
Then he turned and walked toward the door.
Lily stayed where she was with the book in her arms, watching his back recede down the aisle, turn a corner, and disappear.
She hitched the book higher and set off for Gryffindor Tower.
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