The garden was almost silent except for the rustling of leaves in the evening breeze. You stood near the castle, watching the scene unfold.

Regulus and Barty stood facing off with Cormac, a tall figure with an unmistakable sneer plastered across his face. His eyes flicked from Regulus to Barty, as though sizing them both up.

Regulus spoke first. "What did you say 'bout my brother?" The words came out in a low growl.

Barty didn’t let his gaze waver. His voice was smooth, but you could hear the edge of warning in it. "You really think you can insult me and walk away without consequences?"

Cormac laughed, the sound harsh and condescending. "You two are pathetic," he sneered. "What, you really think someone like you is worth this much trouble?"

Regulus didn’t flinch. "He’s my brother, Cormac," he said, each word slow and deliberate, like a promise. "You will never talk about him like that again."

Barty, standing slightly behind Regulus, mirrored his intensity with a quiet menace. "And if you keep running your mouth, Cormac," he added, "you’ll regret it." And you could tell he meant every word.

Cormac’s smirk faltered for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure whether to push further or retreat. "Oh, please," he scoffed, but there was a hesitation in his tone now. "I was just having a laugh."

Regulus stepped forward. "I don’t care if you’re laughing or not. If you ever talk about him like that again, I’ll make sure you regret it."

Cormac stood still for a moment, glancing between Regulus and Barty, as if calculating his next move. The arrogance in his posture faltered. He didn’t dare test them any longer. With a final sneer, he turned on his heel and stalked off into the shadows, clearly defeated.

You watched the exchange with a quiet breath. Regulus and Barty didn’t exchange a word, but their presence was enough.

You could feel it even from where you stood: the way they defended each other, the unspoken promise that no one would come between them. No matter what.