Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Lily picked up her stack of books, then hesitated and set them down again. "Actually, I'm researching for a Potions essay.

Professor Slughorn assigned a review on the mechanism of moonstone in calming draughts — at least three primary-source citations required."

She looked at the pile with a sigh. "But I have no idea how to organize it. These sources all say roughly the same thing, yet not quite."

Regulus glanced at her. He knew young witches and wizards received no training in academic writing. "How do you usually write an essay?" he asked.

"I sort of... copy down what's in the books and add my own understanding?" Lily said uncertainly.

Regulus sat at the table and gestured for Lily to sit as well.

"Muggle universities have a systematic method for essay writing—"

At the words "Muggle universities," Lily's eyes lit up instantly.

Regulus continued: "First, don't start writing right away. Skim all the sources, note every useful point, and mark where you found it."

Lily blinked and listened intently. Regulus pulled a blank sheet of parchment from his notebook and tore it into several small slips. "For example, write: 'Moonstone's lunar magic can neutralize the residual agitation magic of nightmare herb; see Moonlight and Potions, page 147.'"

He wrote "Source 1" in the corner of the slip.

"This gives you one discrete piece of information. Once you have enough source material, start sorting: which sources discuss properties, which discuss preparation, which discuss side effects."

Lily's eyes widened. "And then?"

"Then look for connections between those points." Regulus tapped his wand lightly, and several parchment slips floated into the air.

"Say you discover that Source A says to grind moonstone into powder, Source B says to slice it, and Source C says to soak it whole.

Now you ask: why the discrepancy? Different formulas? Different schools of thought? Or perhaps different moonstone origins?"

He rearranged the slips in the air. "Finding the reason for a discrepancy is what gives an essay depth.

Finally, string the fragments together with your own logic: 'Considering factor X, A's view is more applicable to situation Y, while B's method is superior under condition Z; therefore, the recommended approach is...'"

Lily was utterly absorbed. She reached for her own parchment and quill and scribbled down the steps.

"Skim, cite, classify, connect, thread the logic... This is incredibly useful! Can I share it? My friends are struggling with their essays too!"

Regulus nodded. "You may. But don't say I taught you."

Lily paused, pen in hand, and looked at him, puzzled. "Why not?"

"Because I am a Slytherin and you are a Gryffindor," Regulus said evenly.

"Some lines need not be deliberately crossed, nor needlessly provoked. If your friends ask, tell them you found the method in a Muggle library."

A Slytherin sharing Muggle methods — in pure-blood circles, that was taboo, especially in the current climate.

But he trusted Lily would keep the secret. She understood the importance of boundaries.

At the same time, this was a test — whether she could keep a promise.

That mattered greatly.

After a moment's thought, Lily grasped his meaning. He was a pure-blood Slytherin. He should not be seen discovering, proposing, using, or sharing anything that came from the Muggle world.

Even if it genuinely helped — everyone.

Lily nodded firmly. "I understand. Thank you, Black."

"You're welcome."

Lily gathered her things to leave. At the end of the bookshelf she turned back. "You know, if you were in Gryffindor, I think we'd be very good friends."

Regulus looked up at her earnest expression.

His voice was soft. "Friends aren't divided by house, Miss Evans."

Lily smiled — a smile as bright as a ray of sunlight breaking through clouds.

"Then... goodbye, Regulus."

"Goodbye, Lily."

The red-haired girl vanished between the shelves. Regulus remained seated. He knew someone else would come.

Five minutes later, a cold voice issued from the shadows of the bookshelves: "Stay away from her."

Severus Snape stepped out from the darkness between two rows of books, his black robes nearly merging with the gloom.

His face was paler than usual, lips pressed into a thin line, dark eyes churning with something barely restrained.

Regulus paused what he was doing and looked at him calmly. "Snape. Something the matter?"

"I said — stay away from Lily." Snape's voice was low and rapid, like a serpent's hiss. "Your act — I can see right through it. Pretending to be kind, pretending to be different, all to win trust, and then—"

"And then what?" Regulus cut in. "Use her? Hurt her?"

Snape advanced a step, fingers pressing against his cuff, voice fierce. "You think you're cleverer than the rest? You think I don't see what you're planning?"

Regulus let out a faint sigh. "Snape, you were over there watching the whole time, weren't you? Watching Lily talk to me, watching her smile, watching her leave. And then you stepped out to warn me."

He met Snape's gaze head-on. "Do you think that's protecting her? Or is it that you simply cannot bear her showing warmth to anyone other than you?"

Snape's face turned ugly. "You—"

"Let me finish." Regulus raised a hand, a small motion. "You're not angry because I might hurt Lily — you know perfectly well I won't, at least not now.

You're angry because Lily sought me out to talk. Because she smiled at me. Because she looked... willing to trust a Slytherin other than you."

He leaned back. "And you want to be the only wizard she trusts. The one who is special, different, capable of understanding everything about her. Isn't that right?"

Snape's breathing grew heavy. His fingers trembled.

He had been seen through completely.

Regulus shook his head. His tone turned cold. "Today she talked to me. Tomorrow she might even do a Potions experiment with James Potter."

At the mention of Potter, Snape's pupils contracted violently. His fingers nearly closed around the handle of his wand.

"There." Regulus's voice was measured. "Just hearing the name and you're losing control."

"Here is my advice, Snape. If you truly care about Lily, do not try to dictate whom she befriends or speaks with. That will only push her further away.

You should make her choose to stay by your side of her own free will — not because you've driven off every rival."

Snape stood rooted, body rigid beneath his robes. Several seconds passed before he found his voice. "What do you know... A pure-blood princeling like you couldn't possibly understand—"

"I understand more than you think." Regulus cut him off again, locking eyes with Snape. "I understand the arrogance of pure-blood families. I understand a half-blood wizard's struggle. I understand the isolation of the Muggle-born.

But none of that is an excuse for what you're doing."

He rose and walked past Snape. "You're warning me?"

He said nothing more. He retrieved "Astral Meditation" and headed for Madam Pince's checkout desk, leaving Snape standing alone amid the shadows of the bookshelves.

Regulus reflected: Snape was a mass of contradictions — astonishing talent trapped inside insecurity and possessiveness, craving power, chasing darkness.

In the original story, he did not truly awaken until he had lost Lily, and by then there was no turning back.

Today's words might fall on deaf ears. If Snape was clever enough, he would begin to reflect. If not... at least he now knew Regulus was not his enemy.

The irony was that Snape's obsession with Lily was his greatest weakness. In the future, Voldemort would exploit it. So would Dumbledore.

Perhaps when everyone else was exploiting that fixation, the one person who did not would reap unexpected rewards.

And speaking of Snape inevitably led to James Potter.

In Regulus's view, this so-called "canonical match" for Lily was little more than a bit player.

A schoolyard bully, celebrated as a hero simply because he later saw the light and joined the right side?

Entitled, as a matter of course, to love, friendship, family, and posthumous glory?

The world could be deeply ironic. The line between good and evil, hero and villain, often depended not on what you had done, but on which side you stood at the end.

Snape was no saint. Potter was even less of one. From a certain angle, Potter was worse.

Regulus reined in his thoughts. Since this world rewarded the reformed sinner, there was no point dwelling on it.

Madam Pince inspected the book. "'Astral Meditation.' An obscure title. Two-week loan period."

"That will be sufficient." Regulus signed his name.

When he left the library, the castle corridors were already lit with torches, their wavering flames casting long shadows across the stone walls.