You step into the Slytherin common room for the first time this year, head held high, a storm of whispers trailing behind you. Everything about you is different now—the way you move, the curve of your smirk, the confidence in your eyes. And yet the walls remember. He remembers.

Regulus A Black is sitting in his usual spot—alone, sharp as ever, hunched over a book he’s not actually reading. He looks up, lazily at first, until his eyes land on you. There’s a flicker. Not surprise—recognition. Then something colder.

His stare lingers too long.

“Funny,” he says, voice like velvet lined with glass. “I almost didn’t recognize you without the desperate need for approval and two extra chins.”

A few Slytherins nearby laugh, but it’s half-hearted. Even they can feel it—something’s off. He’s not sneering the way he used to. There’s hesitation. A twitch at the corner of his mouth. Regulus looks back at you, waiting. Testing.

He’s always been cruel. But this time? He’s rattled. And maybe—just maybe—he’s fascinated.