Chapter 12: Evans and Snape
James's eyes went wide, his mouth hanging slightly ajar. Remus drew a sharp breath. Peter let out a short yelp and immediately clapped a hand over his mouth.
Sirius stood rigid in the doorway, fingers unconsciously clenching into fists. He wanted to draw his wand, but he held the impulse back.
Siding with an outsider against his own brother — win or lose, it would not look good.
Besides, he knew that even if he joined in, he could not win. Pressing the confrontation would only humiliate himself further.
Snape stared at the motionless band of red light. Slowly, he turned his head and looked at Regulus.
Lily's hand still gripped Snape's sleeve, but she had forgotten the gesture entirely — she simply stood there, staring.
Regulus finally raised his head.
He glanced at James with an expression as calm as if he were regarding a piece of furniture. Then he looked at the crimson ribbon. His right hand still held the quill; his left gripped his wand, which he flicked ever so slightly.
The red light dimmed from vivid to dull, from solid to translucent, and then it broke apart — dissolving like a melting shard of ice into countless minute red motes.
The motes drifted and spun through the air before vanishing without a sound. The process was neither fast nor slow. Everyone saw it clearly.
The wand vanished abruptly from Regulus's hand. His left hand returned to the table. He lowered his gaze and resumed his notes, the quill moving across the page with a steady scratching.
As though nothing had happened at all.
The silence lasted at least ten seconds.
James Potter's wand arm was still raised, his posture frozen stiff as a statue.
His eyes were stretched wide, the pupils behind his lenses reflecting nothing but empty air.
Right there — ten seconds ago — an intact Disarming Charm had been frozen, deconstructed, and dispersed, as though it had never existed.
"You..." James's voice caught in his throat. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "What did you do?"
Regulus did not answer. He did not even look up at James again.
James clenched his fist, as though engaged in some fierce internal debate. The dismissal infuriated him, but in the end he did not lash out.
Because he knew — or rather, he had learned.
In the appendix of "The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1," there was a brief mention: in theory, a sufficiently powerful wizard could dismantle a lesser caster's spell through direct magical interference.
The more one understood, the more one grasped what that implied.
James Potter was a prankster, arrogant, and biased against Slytherins — but he was not stupid.
His father had taught him the fundamentals of spellcasting theory. He had watched adult wizards perform advanced magic. He had read the books.
So he understood: what had just happened in front of him was not some first-year's clever trick. It was something beyond his comprehension made manifest.
And the person who had done it sat there quietly, as if James were an insect not worth noticing.
James's fist tightened around his wand, its edge digging into his palm. He wanted to say something cutting to save face, but his throat was dry and not a single word would come.
"What spell was that?" Remus's voice was very soft. He shifted his body to stand between James and Regulus.
"It wasn't a spell." Sirius spoke up. He walked into the compartment and stood beside James, his gaze resting on Regulus.
He had not expected Regulus to have reached such a level. He recognized it as some form of extraordinary skill, and the realization stirred a tangle of emotions too complicated to name.
'Perhaps some family secret I was never taught?'
"What's that supposed to mean?" James turned to him, his tone curt.
"It means you can't beat him." Sirius kept his voice deliberately calm — between his best friend and his brother, he did not want to appear to take sides.
Then he added: "At least not right now. So don't provoke him."
James opened his mouth to argue, but he looked at Regulus, then at the spot where the spell had vanished, and in the end said nothing.
Regulus finally glanced at Sirius — a barely perceptible nod — then lowered his head once more.
They left.
In the corridor, Lily Evans and Severus Snape still stood there.
Lily's hand had released Snape's sleeve, but she remained at his side, green eyes wide, looking between Regulus and the spot where the spell had disappeared.
Snape's expression was darker than usual. He stared at Regulus, every line of his face radiating wariness.
"Are you all right?" Lily spoke first, asking Regulus.
Regulus looked up, his gaze passing over Lily and Snape in turn.
"Thank you both for coming, though strictly speaking, it is Mister Snape who deserves the gratitude. The spell was aimed at him."
Lily blinked, surprised by the remark — though it was true. "No... I mean, it was nothing."
The corner of Snape's mouth twitched. He was still watching Regulus. "How did you do that?"
Regulus did not answer at once. He rose and introduced himself.
"Before I answer — perhaps we should know each other first. I am Regulus Black."
"Black?" Lily's eyes widened slightly. "You're... Sirius Black's brother?"
Regulus inclined his head, his right shoulder and hand extending slightly outward in a small, courteous gesture.
"I'm Lily Evans." Hearing the name confirmed startled her; she quietly drew a breath.
Her tone became a touch more formal. "Second year, Gryffindor. This is Severus Snape — also second year, Slytherin."
Snape's lips pressed into a thin line. He gave only a stiff, minimal nod.
Regulus acknowledged them both with a nod. "I know your names."
Lily blinked. "You do?"
"Professor Slughorn mentioned you," Regulus said, his tone natural, as though stating simple fact.
"He said Hogwarts has two second-year students whose talent in Potions far surpasses their peers — Lily Evans and Severus Snape. He suggested that, given the chance, I should exchange ideas with you."
Lily's face flushed — with pleasure. Her eyes brightened, and her lips curved into a genuine smile. "Really? Professor Slughorn said that?"
Snape's reaction was more complex. His chin lifted slightly, a flicker of pride at being acknowledged, yet suspicion still lurked in his eyes.
He was all too familiar with such phrasing. "Talent far surpassing their peers" sounded like a compliment, but in Slytherin, that kind of praise often came with a silent footnote: 'but your blood doesn't match your talent.'
"So you know who we are," Snape said, his voice a touch hoarse, steering the conversation back to what mattered. "But what we just witnessed — that is absolutely not something a first-year should be able to do. Mister Black?"
Regulus studied him. He knew the young Snape was sensitive, insecure, and yet fiercely proud — a walking contradiction.
Toward pure-bloods, he was simultaneously guarded and longing to be accepted.
Regulus explained: "Spell analysis and magical interference. The principle is not complicated — it simply demands an extremely high degree of control precision."
'And magical perception,' he added silently.
"How high?" Snape pressed.
'Not only sensitive, insecure, and proud — also lacking in manners,' Regulus noted to himself. But he did not mind. Snape was valuable.
"High enough that most adult wizards cannot do it," Regulus answered calmly. "I have been practicing for a long time."
Lily looked at him with curiosity. "How old were you when you started practicing magic?"
"Since I can remember," Regulus said lightly. "We have a library at home."
The Black family library was famous, of course — as was the private collection of every ancient house.
But no number of books could make a child self-teach an advanced magical technique.
Lily, however, accepted the explanation. She came from a Muggle household — there were no libraries of magical tomes in her home, and she had no frame of reference for how pure-blood families educated their children.
She nodded, and her green eyes warmed with a few more degrees of friendliness. "So you're... the studious type, too."
"Studying is a necessity," Regulus agreed with a nod. "For a wizard, knowledge is power."
'For Muggles even more so,' he added in his mind.
The remark made Snape's eyebrow rise. He regarded Regulus anew, and some of the wariness in his gaze gave way to a measure of approval.
"Then," Snape asked, "which house are you expecting?"
"Slytherin," Regulus said without hesitation. "It is the family tradition."
Lily's expression dimmed for an instant. She glanced at Snape, then at Regulus, her lips parting as though about to say something before she finally managed: "Slytherin... isn't bad. Severus is there."
At the same time, the thought ran through her mind: 'But there are also plenty of people there who despise someone like me.'
Regulus read the subtext. He simply nodded. "Every house has people worth learning from — and people not worth wasting your time on."
That brought the brightness back to Lily's face, and she smiled. "You're right. Well then — see you at the Sorting?"
"See you at the Sorting."
Lily tugged Snape's sleeve. "We should head back, Severus."
Snape gave Regulus one final look, nodded, and turned to leave. Lily waved goodbye at Regulus and followed.
The compartment fell quiet once more.