The crisp evening air whipped around Regulus as he soared high above the Hogwarts grounds, the sharp chill of late autumn biting at his cheeks. The argument with Sirius had left him unsettled, his thoughts a tangled mess of anger and frustration. The familiar rhythmic hum of his broomstick provided a brief respite from the tension, each sweep through the sky offering fleeting clarity.
Down below, the castle's silhouette loomed dark and imposing, a reminder of the family expectations and the legacy that seemed to suffocate him. Regulus gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus on the feeling of the wind against his face and the freedom of the open sky. He needed this—this moment of solitude, away from the prying eyes and relentless judgments.
The argument had stung more deeply than he cared to admit. Sirius's harsh words echoed in his mind, challenging the very principles that Regulus had been raised to uphold. His brother’s defiance, the way he spoke of rebellion and change—it unsettled him. It was one thing to be trapped in a life dictated by family traditions, but to have those traditions openly questioned by someone so close… it cut deeper than he’d expected.
As Regulus maneuvered his broom in tight circles, he tried to push the anger aside, replacing it with the focused precision he prided himself on. The open sky was his sanctuary, but even here, amidst the tranquility of flight, he could not escape the storm brewing inside him.