HP: Those Years Sleeping with the Half-Blood Prince

"Hmm," Regulus responded, then fell silent. Silence spread in the night breeze, not awkward, but rather conveying a mutual understanding that needed no further explanation.

"Next week, same time," Ian said, not asking.

Regulus nodded, glanced at Severus, and said very softly, "Okay."

As the party ended, they mingled with the departing crowd. Regulus was escorted to the cellar by two older students, never once looking back at them.

Thursday night, The Room of Requirement.

The fire burned brighter than usual, dispelling the chill of the October night.

Kevin was trying to teach Aris a variation of Wizard's Chess that he had learned from his cousin, and the pieces on the board were chattering noisily.

Regulus entered with a chill in his air. He took off his robe, hung it up, and sat down by the fireplace, but did not immediately take out a book as usual.

He simply sat there, watching the leaping flames, his hands resting on his knees, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing against each other.

Kevin and Aris's argument came to an end, and the room quieted down, with only the crackling of the fireplace remaining.

All eyes, whether intentionally or unintentionally, fell on Regulus.

He remained silent for a long time, so long that Kevin couldn't help but ask him a question before Regulus finally raised his eyes, his voice dry and his speech slow.

"My parents... want me to take an oath of allegiance this Christmas."

The air froze instantly.

The fire in the stove seemed to dim for a moment.

Ian sat up straight, Severus stopped flipping through the book mid-air, Kevin stared with his mouth agape, and Aris frowned as he looked at Regulus.

"Their... health has been deteriorating over the past six months," Regulus continued, his gaze vacantly fixed on a crack in a floor tile. "My father's chronic illness is something even St. Mungo's can't cure; they can only alleviate it. My mother... is overly anxious and relies on potions. They feel that time is running out, and I must quickly... establish myself, gain... recognition and protection."

"The approval of that 'master'?" Ian's voice was deep.

Regulus nodded. "They believe this is the only way out, for the Black family, for me, especially now that Nott and Carlo have graduated. They need new, younger... faces, and I'm the right one."

"You don't want to," Severus said, in a statement.

Regulus gave a short, twisted, and painful laugh.

"Does it matter whether I want to or not? Do I even have a choice?" His voice trembled. "They said it was a responsibility, an honor, paving the way for the family... They lay in bed, coughing up blood, clutching my hand, saying, 'Rayle, don't let us down, don't bring shame to Black'..."

He stopped, his chest heaving, took a deep breath, and turned his face away so that no one could see his eyes, which had instantly turned red.

The room was deathly silent.

Kevin stared blankly at him, a chess piece still clutched in his hand, forgotten to put it down.

Ian stood up, walked to the low cabinet by the fireplace, poured a glass of warm water, came back, and placed it in Regulus's cold hands.

Regulus's fingers trembled, and he could barely hold the cup.

"So, during the Christmas holidays, at Black's old house, or somewhere else," Ian sat down on the low stool next to him, his voice steady and strangely soothing, "there will be a ceremony, you'll see him, and then... take an oath."

“…It’s not an oath,” Regulus said, holding the cup and closing his eyes. “It’s a mark. Bella will guide me, and…Lucius might be there too. That lord will personally brand it on me. After that mark, I’ll be one of them.”

"A mark?" Ian asked, puzzled.

The last trace of color drained from Regulus's face, and his eyes were filled with terror.

“A spell,” his voice was hoarse, even trembling, “branded on the skin, on the left arm. Bella showed me hers. It changes color, it burns. When he summons it, it’s… proof of loyalty, forever.”

"No!" Kevin blurted out first, his voice hoarse. "Isn't that the brand of a slave?"

"Kevin," Aris whispered, his expression grim. "That's not a simple brand, Regulus. What you saw was some kind of permanent dark magic contract, bound to the soul or life. It's no joke. Are you sure you haven't misunderstood your cousin? Or... was it a form of intimidation or a test?"

Regulus shook his head vigorously, his fingertips digging into his palms. "There's no misunderstanding, she showed me...right here."

He pointed to his left forearm with his finger, his voice trembling, "The fervor in her eyes when she mentioned it... it wasn't fake, Aris, it wasn't a test, it was... an initiation ceremony."

Severus, who had been silent all along, suddenly spoke up, "Marks bound to a soul or a powerful magical contract usually have tracking, one-way communication, and even... punitive functions. Once branded, it signifies a transfer of ownership and control. Your mention of 'Burning Pain' and 'Summoning' confirms this. It may also carry a variant of some kind of loyalty spell, or at least, it's the most conspicuous mark of a traitor."

With each word he spoke, Regulus's face paled further, until it was almost transparent.

"Ownership..." Regulus murmured, the last glimmer of light in his grey-blue eyes extinguished.

"So, it absolutely must not be branded," Ian's voice rang out.

Regulus gave a wry smile. "I've tried... every reason I can think of for postponing: health, studies, NEWTs, instability in the family business..."

His voice was weak. "It's no use. They say none of these are reasons. That guy... he has a way of keeping people in a 'good state' when it's 'necessary,' and the sooner you take a stand, the more you'll gain in the future."

Regulus closed his eyes; he had no choice.

"The principles of marked magic," Ian looked at Severus, then at Aris, "Are there any loopholes? Like... temporary resistance? Or, forgery?"

Severus frowned. "That level of dark magic contract, forging it... is almost impossible. Magical fluctuations and resonances can't fool the caster. Resistance..."

He paused, then lowered his voice, "The price could be instant death, or worse, a fate worse than death."

Aris also shook his head with a solemn expression.