Four months later. March, 1964.
Walburga threw a tea party. Officially, it was a spring gathering for the ladies of the family. Unofficially, it was Walburga shoving her sons in everyone's faces to prove they were superior.
Bellatrix showed up first.
She was thirteen and already acted like she owned whatever room she walked into. Dark green velvet dress, not a wrinkle in sight. Hair yanked back so tight it probably hurt. Eyes scanning the parlor like she was looking for sothing to criticize.
"Heard you blew up the sitting room," she said, walking straight up to Sirius.
Sirius stuck his chin out. "I can control it now!"
Androda and Narcissa ca in behind their mother. Androda was nine, soft-spoken, and she smiled at Regulus as she passed. Narcissa was eight and didn't even glance at him—too busy silently judging the new curtains.
The tea started. The adults talked about the usual garbage. Ministry appointnts. So Pure-blood engagent where the groom's bloodline wasn't great but his vault made up for it.
The kids got stuck at a smaller table with tiny silverware and delicate cups. The whole setup scread sit here and behave.
Sirius, predictably, had zero interest in behaving.
Regulus had other things on his mind.
He'd been chewing on a question for a while now. Vera Verto made you picture a specific shape when you transford sothing. But what if you didn't care about the shape? What if you just wanted to change what sothing was? If you skipped the visualization entirely… what would magic even do?
"Watch this," Sirius announced.
He glared at his spoon. Hard.
Magic flared.
The spoon bent. Slow, smooth, curving exactly how he wanted.
Sirius lit up. Pride all over his face. He pushed harder—just a bit more, it'd look even cooler—
Too much.
The spoon bent a little too far, and the neat curve turned into a twisted ss.
He flinched. Shot a look at Bellatrix to see if she noticed.
That half-second of distraction was enough.
His control snapped.
Magic exploded out of him like a shaken bottle finally popping. It slamd into everything on the table.
Regulus felt the violent fluctuation at once. He looked up just in ti to see every piece of silverware on the table begin to discolor. The silver sheen drained away, replaced by a fleshy pink. Ringed patterns surfaced along the tal.
They turned into worms.
Twelve thick, pink earthworms writhed across the tablecloth.
Every adult head snapped around. Walburga's face went from flushed to paper-white in about half a second.
Druella set down her teacup with the careful precision of soone trying very hard not to scream.
Bellatrix raised an eyebrow, looking absolutely delighted. She lifted a hand to her mouth in fake shock. "Oh my."
Sirius froze.
He stared at the worms like he couldn't process that he'd done this. His mouth opened. Nothing ca out.
Walburga's hand moved toward her wand.
Regulus saw her expression and understood imdiately. This wasn't just anger about the party. This was humiliation. Losing face in front of her sisters.
Great, Regulus thought. She's going to lose it, the party's ruined, Sirius gets scread at, and I get to hear about this for the next three days.
He pushed his chair back and stood up.
He walked over to the kids' table and looked down at the pile of wriggling pink bodies.
Had to admit—as accidental magic went, this was impressively thorough.
His brain slid into that calm, cold space it always went to when he needed to think. Vera Verto didn't destroy material. It rearranged it. The silver was still there, just... reorganized.
If the base was intact, the path back existed too.
Regulus raised his hand, palm down, hovering a few inches above the worms.
He let his magic flow.
It didn't feel like what he'd seen from other wizards. For them, magic seed to run on emotion, instinct and willpower.
For him, it was just... precise.
Like he could sense the structure inside things. Trace the path without guessing. He didn't have to work himself into so emotional state and hope for the best. His thoughts built the model on their own—where the magic should go, how hard to push.
Sotis he wondered if his brain worked like a computer. So kind of processing unit cramd into a toddler's skull.
Perk of being a transmigrator, he'd joked to himself once. Ca with upgraded hardware.
Silver light started bleeding out from inside the worms.
They went still.
One by one, they floated up off the tablecloth. Gravity apparently decided it didn't apply anymore.
They ford a hexagon in midair, suspended and perfectly balanced.
Regulus liked that.
It felt right.
Bellatrix leaned forward, eyes actually wide for once.
Narcissa slapped a hand over her mouth.
Androda breathed out, barely audible: "rlin..."
The reversal started.
The worms tightened.
Stretched.
Silver pushed through from inside, shoving the flesh tones out like smoke clearing.
Ten seconds later—cutlery.
Spoons, forks, knives, cups, saucers, plates. All floating in the air, silver gleaming.
Regulus flicked his fingers.
The pieces floated back to their spots, weaving around each other like they knew exactly where to go. Everything landed exactly where it started.
Well.
Almost everything.
The original spoon, the one Sirius bent, still had a deep crease in it. The tal looked stressed.
Regulus reached out and touched the fold.
The structure needed to reset. Not lt, not warp. Just... settle. Controlled heat. Enough to let the atoms find their places again without ruining the shape.
His magic humd, adjusting itself to match the silver. The tal responded.
The crease smoothed out.
Five seconds later, the spoon was perfect.
Regulus pulled his hand back, walked to his chair, sat down, picked up his biscuit, and took a bite. Face totally blank. Like none of that was on purpose. Like he definitely hadn't just flexed in front of every adult in the room.
Inside? He was glowing.
Obviously he could do it.
"rlin's beard!" Druella jerked so hard she almost launched her teacup across the room.
Bellatrix was already on her feet. She grabbed the spoon and turned it over, checking every angle, tapping it with her nail to hear it ring.
Then she looked at Regulus.
Her expression had changed. No mockery. No teasing. Just shock, sharp and real.
"How did you do that?"
Regulus chewed slowly. Swallowed. Answered around the crumbs:
"They wanted to turn back."
"What?"
"The cutlery wanted to look like cutlery again." He shrugged. "I just helped."
Stupid explanation. Childish to the point of being ridiculous.
Which was exactly why it worked.
He kept his face calm. Of course he knew what he'd done. Of course he could explain the actual theory. But he couldn't. Not at three years old.
Wizards pulled off crazy stuff on instinct all the ti. But a toddler doing impossible magic and explaining how? That wasn't the kind of genius people admired. That was the kind they got nervous about.
Narcissa leaned toward Androda. "He made it look easy."
Androda nodded, but her eyes lingered on Regulus. Not just impressed, there was sothing worried in there too.
Walburga's face cycled through shock, confusion, and then fierce hungry pride, all in about two seconds.
She shoved it down. The Lady of the House of Black did not lose composure in front of guests.
She lifted her teacup, took a careful sip, and said in her steadiest voice: "Regulus has a natural gift for Transfiguration."
"Gift?" Druella laughed, a little too high. "Walburga, that's a miracle. He's three. What was Orion doing at three? Saring jam on the house-elf."
People kept glancing at Regulus after that. Couldn't help themselves.
Regulus just sat there eating his biscuit like nothing happened.
Sirius didn't look up once.
Regulus glanced at him and understood imdiately. This wasn't just embarrassnt. This was pride, bruised and bleeding.
The party ended eventually. Druella collected her daughters and left. The parlor emptied out until it was just the four of them.
Walburga lasted about three seconds.
She scooped Regulus up and crushed him in a hug. "My genius!"
Her voice went feverish against his ear. "I knew it. I knew it. The future of the House of Black."
Over her shoulder, Regulus could see Sirius standing in the doorway.
No four-year-old should look like that. Shocked and hurt and confused and, yeah, jealous.
This is going to be a problem.
Because a four-year-old didn't understand strategy. All Sirius knew was that his baby brother just stole the spotlight.
Sirius turned and ran. Footsteps pounding up the stairs.
Walburga set Regulus down and frowned at the hallway. "He's sulking again. Ignore him. You did the right thing, Regulus."
He's four, Regulus thought. But he didn't say it. He was three himself. Nobody was going to take life advice from him.
That night, Orion knocked on his door.
He'd just gotten ho. Wizengamot sessions ran late.
He sat across from Regulus, his presence heavy even when he kept his voice soft.
"I heard what happened today." Pause. "Your skill is... remarkable."
Regulus watched him.
Waited.
"How did you do it?"
Regulus took a few seconds, then gave an answer that sounded small enough to be safe.
"I don't know. I just... saw how."
"Saw?" Orion frowned. Not the answer he expected.
"I saw what they were supposed to be," Regulus said. "So I made them go back."
Orion studied him for a long mont.
Talent could explain a lot. Rare, sure, but not impossible.
Sirius's magic was powerful and ssy. Too tied up in emotion.
Regulus leaned toward control. Precision.
"Interesting," Orion said finally. "But rember this. Don't show too much in front of others. Genius attracts envy." He paused. "It also attracts fear."
Regulus tilted his head. "Bella looked excited."
Orion's jaw tightened. "Bellatrix is... infatuated with power. So is that man who's been rising lately. Be careful you don't end up on anyone's list."
Regulus nodded.
He knew exactly who Orion ant.
Tom Riddle.
The man who'd beco Voldemort.
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