the difference in hunger games narrators is so funny to me like this is our starting lineup
katniss: i go to a place and do a thing using a skill. also everyone hates me. oh you want to know more about myself? here are four straight paragraphs just describing food instead.
haymitch: so the baker’s in love with my best friends girl and my girlfriend’s uncle is gay and secretly dating the town window-fixer and she’s actually related to lucy gray and has beef with the mayors daughter who bullied me and her social security number is—
snow: everyone here is UGLY and OBNOXIOUS and TACKY and I Am God.
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my first thought of the clip of thor being shocked/unbelieving was that he was talking to doom, because he looked like tony (and they didnt show a face yet). then mjolnir appeared and i was confused, doom is definitely unworthy. then it showed steve rogers…
my next thought is, they look like they’re in space, so are they in that space station that nick fury was stationed at since far from home?
my first thought of the clip of thor being shocked/unbelieving was that he was talking to doom, because he looked like tony (and they didnt show a face yet). then mjolnir appeared and i was confused, doom is definitely unworthy. then it showed steve rogers…
my next thought is, they look like they’re in space, so are they in that space station that nick fury was stationed at since far from home?
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By the time the final performance of the lesson arrived, everyone in the classroom had developed a much greater appreciation for silence.
The assignment had sounded interesting when the professors first explained it.
As part of a combined Muggle Studies lesson involving Muggle English and music, every student had been instructed to write an original song based upon their own life or experiences. They could choose any genre they wanted. They could perform alone or accompany themselves with one of the instruments arranged at the front of the classroom. They could incorporate magic into the performance through lights, images, moving scenery or enchanted instruments, but the actual writing had to be their own.
More importantly, the professors had placed a strict ban upon using magic to improve anyone’s voice.
That rule had caused most of the problems.
Nobody in the class could sing.
A few of them could carry a tune well enough to avoid causing physical pain, but nobody was especially good. The performances had been short, awkward and only technically songs. Most had possessed a verse, something which might generously be described as a chorus, and an abrupt ending when the performer either forgot what came next or decided they had suffered enough.
The styles had varied wildly.
There had been pop songs, rock songs, folk songs and one painfully serious attempt at something resembling opera. There had been clapping, snapping, foot-stamping and instruments played with enthusiasm rather than skill.
The songs were not terrible enough to fail.
They were simply not particularly good.
They were good enough for good marks, which was clearly the only standard most of the class had been aiming to meet.
Peter had returned to his seat after his performance looking profoundly relieved that nobody could ever make him do it for the first time again.
“I think mine went rather well,” he whispered.
“It ended halfway through a sentence,” Remus said.
“That was a deliberate artistic choice.”
“You forgot the next line.”
“I deliberately forgot the next line.”
James leaned around Remus to grin at him. “The tambourine was inspired.”
Peter looked suspicious. “You told me I had no rhythm.”
“You didn’t. That was what made it inspired.”
Sirius, lounging sideways in his chair with one arm hooked over the back, nodded solemnly. “It became less of an instrument and more of an independent character.”
“It was fighting against him,” Mary said.
“The tambourine had its own vision,” Marlene agreed. “It refused to compromise.”
Peter folded his arms. “At least I finished mine.”
“You did not finish yours,” Lily reminded him.
“I stopped performing it. That counts.”
Alice covered a laugh with her hand while Frank glanced towards the front of the classroom, where the professors were consulting the parchment containing the order of performances.
Fabian and Gideon were still quietly arguing about which of them had ruined their shared song.
“You came in too early,” Fabian muttered.
“You came in too late,” Gideon replied.
“I was following the rhythm.”
“There was no rhythm.”
“There was until you started stomping.”
“That was percussion.”
“That was you losing your balance.”
“I made it look intentional.”
“You nearly fell into the piano.”
“But I didn’t.”
“You caught yourself on the piano.”
“Exactly. Controlled movement.”
Across the aisle, Barty had his chin resting in both hands and appeared to be slowly dying from boredom.
“Is that everyone?” he asked.
“No,” Dorcas said.
“It feels like everyone.”
“Regulus hasn’t gone yet,” Pandora reminded him.
Barty straightened slightly.
Evan looked towards Regulus, who was sitting between him and Dorcas with the same composed expression he had worn during every other performance.
Regulus had watched the entire lesson without offering any clue as to what he had prepared. He had occasionally raised an eyebrow. Once, during a particularly aggressive attempt at a romantic ballad, he had covered his mouth with his hand and stared down at his desk until he could control himself.
His parchment remained folded beneath his fingers.
Barty leaned closer to him. “What are you doing?”
“You’ll see.”
“What genre?”
“You’ll see.”
“Are you going to sing?”
Regulus turned his head and gave him a faint, infuriating smile. “Presumably.”
Evan stared at him. “Presumably?”
“It is a song.”
“That has not stopped half the class.”
“It certainly did not stop you,” Dorcas told Barty.
Barty pointed at her. “Mine was experimental.”
“Your experiment failed.”
“It pushed the boundaries of music.”
“It pushed the boundaries of patience.”
Pandora tilted her head, studying Regulus. “You have been unusually secretive.”
“I am always secretive.”
“Not about assignments,” Evan said.
“You usually complain about assignments,” Barty added.
Regulus looked offended. “I do not complain.”
All four of his friends stared at him.
Regulus considered that.
“I complain with dignity.”
From the row in front of them, Sirius twisted around in his seat. “What did you write about?”
Regulus’s mouth curved.
“You’ll see.”
Sirius narrowed his eyes. “That answer is becoming threatening.”
“It was threatening the first time,” Remus said.
James turned around as well, resting both arms across the back of his chair. “Is it about Quidditch?”
“No.”
“Your family?”
“No.”
“Your friends?”
Regulus glanced at Barty, Evan, Pandora and Dorcas.
“No.”
Barty placed a hand dramatically over his heart. “Cruel.”
“Is it romantic?” Mary asked from beside Lily.
Regulus’s expression did not change, but something in his eyes sharpened with amusement.
Mary gasped. “It is.”
Marlene leaned across Alice immediately. “Who is it about?”
“Nobody.”
“That means somebody,” Fabian said.
“It absolutely means somebody,” Gideon agreed.
Frank looked between them all. “It could simply be a romantic song.”
“Based on his own life and experiences,” Lily reminded him.
Every head turned back towards Regulus.
Regulus calmly folded his parchment once more.
“It is a parody.”
That answer produced a brief silence.
James frowned. “A parody of what?”
“You’ll see.”
Sirius groaned. “Stop saying that.”
At the front of the classroom, one of the professors cleared their throat.
“Regulus Black.”
Regulus rose.
The room settled almost at once.
Part of that was because he was the final performer and everyone knew the lesson could not end until he had finished. Most of it, however, was because nobody had any idea what he was about to do.
Regulus carried his folded parchment to the front but did not open it.
Instead, he stopped beside the instruments the professors had arranged there and reached for an acoustic guitar.
Evan blinked.
Barty blinked.
Dorcas sat forward.
Pandora’s eyes widened with immediate interest.
Sirius looked over his shoulder at them, clearly checking whether Regulus’s friends understood what was happening.
Their faces answered him.
They did not.
Regulus lifted the strap over his head and settled the guitar against himself with easy familiarity.
James glanced at Sirius. “Can he play that?”
Sirius was staring at his brother. “Not as far as I knew.”
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
“He never told you?”
“Clearly not, James.”
Regulus sat upon the stool that had been placed near the front. He adjusted the position of the guitar, leaned over it slightly and began tuning.
The first note rang cleanly through the classroom.
Then another.
His fingers moved confidently over the strings. He listened, adjusted one of the tuning pegs and tested it again.
There was no fumbling.
No uncertainty.
No cautious plucking while trying to remember which string was which.
He handled the instrument like it belonged in his hands.
Evan’s eyebrows climbed higher with every note.
“You can play the guitar?” he asked.
Regulus did not look up. “Yes.”
“Since when?”
“First year.”
Barty made a strangled noise. “First year?”
Regulus adjusted another string. “I taught myself.”
“You taught yourself to play the guitar five years ago,” Dorcas said slowly, “and never mentioned it.”
“It never came up.”
“We have spent five years together,” Evan said.
“And yet it never came up.”
Pandora watched his fingers move. “You hid an entire musical education from us.”
“I did not hide it.”
“You never told us.”
“That is different.”
“How?” Barty demanded.
Regulus finally glanced up, his eyes cool and amused.
“Hiding it would imply active effort.”
Sirius laughed loudly.
“That,” he said, pointing at Regulus, “is exactly the sort of answer he gives when he knows he has been caught doing something ridiculous.”
“I have not been caught,” Regulus replied. “I am voluntarily demonstrating it.”
Regulus tested a chord.
It was perfect.
Remus’s expression changed first.
He knew just enough about music to recognise that Regulus was not merely competent. His posture was relaxed. His left hand formed the chord without hesitation, while the fingers of his right hand rested lightly against the strings.
Lily noticed Remus’s reaction. “He’s good?”
Remus nodded. “He’s very good.”
James looked towards Regulus again.
Regulus played a short progression to check the tuning.
The notes moved smoothly together, warm and clear, each one placed exactly where he wanted it.
The room grew quieter.
Even Barty stopped talking.
Regulus’s friends were staring at him as though he had abruptly announced that he had been living a completely separate life every evening after dinner.
Dorcas’s mouth had fallen slightly open.
Evan looked faintly betrayed.
Pandora appeared delighted by the revelation.
Barty looked as though he had just been handed a new subject to be insufferable about for the next several months.
Sirius was smiling now, surprise giving way to something openly pleased.
Regulus straightened and rested his fingers over the strings.
“Ready?” one of the professors asked.
Regulus gave a small nod.
Then he began to play.
The opening was immediately recognisable as a gentle Muggle pop melody. It was soft and romantic, the chords flowing beneath his fingers with a steady ease that made every performance before his seem even clumsier by comparison.
Marlene slowly turned towards Mary.
Mary slowly turned towards Lily.
Lily stared at Regulus.
James’s eyebrows had risen almost to his hairline.
Frank leaned forward with both hands braced upon his knees.
Alice’s eyes widened.
Fabian stopped whispering.
Gideon stopped fidgeting.
Peter looked from Regulus to the guitar and back again.
Regulus began to sway slightly with the rhythm.
His head dipped as he watched his fingers for a moment, dark hair falling towards his eyes. Then he looked up.
His expression had completely changed.
The cold composure he usually carried through the corridors was still present, but softened beneath a lazy, knowing smile. His eyes were half-lidded. His posture was loose. He looked utterly comfortable before the class, as if he had performed in front of people a hundred times rather than having concealed the fact that he could play an instrument from everyone who knew him.
Then he started to sing.
“When your legs don’t work—”
His voice was light.
Soft.
Smooth.
It glided above the guitar without strain, warm and controlled, possessing the gentle sweetness of a proper romantic song.
Every person in the room froze.
Regulus’s gaze drifted across the class.
“Cause I broke both your legs—”
The melody remained perfectly tender.
The lyrics took a moment to register.
James’s mouth dropped open.
Lily’s head snapped towards Sirius.
Sirius made a sharp, startled sound that became a laugh before he could stop it.
Peter choked.
Remus closed his eyes briefly, as if he had already understood precisely where this was going and required a moment to prepare himself.
Regulus smiled wider.
“And I smashed all the bones in your feet.”
His fingers moved beautifully over the strings.
His voice softened at the end of the line, tender and affectionate.
Barty slapped both hands over his mouth.
Evan turned to stare at him, then immediately looked back at Regulus.
Dorcas’s eyes narrowed in delighted disbelief.
Pandora clasped her hands beneath her chin, completely enchanted.
“He can sing,” Mary whispered.
“He can really sing,” Alice whispered back.
Marlene’s expression was caught somewhere between horror and admiration. “Why is this what he chose to sing?”
“Because he thinks he’s funny,” Evan murmured.
At the front, Regulus looked directly at his friends.
His eyes were bright with smug amusement.
“When your body’s dismembered—”
The professor nearest him stiffened.
The other professor slowly lowered the quill they had been using to take notes.
Regulus kept playing.
“And covered in blood—”
Sirius folded forward against his desk, shoulders shaking.
James slapped him on the back. “Your brother is deranged.”
“I know,” Sirius managed.
“He sings like that?”
“I didn’t know!”
“How did you not know?”
“He apparently spent five years hiding a guitar career!”
“I was not hiding it,” Regulus said smoothly without losing the melody.
That only made Sirius laugh harder.
Regulus turned his attention back to the song, swaying gently upon the stool.
“And I’ve made a coin purse from your cheeks.”
The classroom erupted.
Peter recoiled so sharply that his chair scraped against the floor.
Frank stared at Regulus with wide-eyed disbelief.
Alice pressed both hands over her mouth.
Mary made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a gasp.
Marlene dropped her forehead onto Lily’s shoulder.
Lily was trying to look appalled, but the corners of her mouth kept twitching.
Fabian twisted towards Gideon. “A coin purse?”
“From the cheeks,” Gideon confirmed.
“I heard him.”
“Then why did you ask?”
“I needed someone else to confirm that I heard him.”
Remus had one hand covering the lower half of his face.
James was staring at Regulus as though he had just witnessed a transformation.
“You have been able to do this the entire time?” James demanded.
Regulus continued strumming, utterly unbothered.
His voice grew sweeter still.
“Cause, darling, I will—”
He tilted his head.
His lashes lowered.
The smile on his mouth became almost flirtatious.
“Be cutting you—”
Evan covered his eyes with one hand.
“He practised this,” he muttered.
Barty pulled his hands away from his mouth. “Of course he practised it.”
“He sat somewhere and rehearsed singing this romantically.”
“Of course he did.”
Dorcas was grinning openly now. “Look at his face.”
“I am looking,” Evan said. “I wish I wasn’t.”
“You’re jealous because you didn’t know he could sing.”
“I am offended because I didn’t know he could sing.”
Pandora sighed dreamily. “He sounds lovely.”
Regulus finished the phrase with a soft, sustained note.
“Into smithereens.”
The final word floated through the room with such smooth affection that, for one extraordinary second, nobody reacted.
The guitar continued beneath it.
Regulus’s smile deepened.
He looked ready to continue.
One of the professors raised a hand sharply.
“Stop.”
Regulus’s fingers stilled against the strings.
The final chord faded.
The room remained frozen.
Regulus looked towards the professors with an expression of perfect innocence.
“Yes?”
The professor stared at him.
Regulus stared back.
The silence lasted several seconds.
“That,” the professor said carefully, “was exceptionally well performed.”
Regulus inclined his head. “Thank you.”
“It was also deeply inappropriate.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Was it?”
Barty made a choking sound.
Dorcas elbowed him before he could laugh aloud.
The second professor looked down at Regulus’s parchment. “Is the rest of the song like that?”
Regulus glanced at the folded page.
“Broadly.”
“No.”
“No?”
“You may not perform the rest of it.”
A murmur moved through the classroom.
Sirius sat upright immediately. “Can we hear it after class?”
“No,” both professors said.
Regulus’s smile twitched.
James looked devastated. “You cannot tell us there is more and then forbid it.”
“We absolutely can,” said the first professor.
“That seems cruel.”
“It is a classroom, Potter, not a concert hall.”
Marlene lifted her head from Lily’s shoulder. “I would attend that concert.”
“So would I,” Mary said.
Alice nodded before catching Frank looking at her.
“What?” she asked. “He sounds brilliant.”
“He does,” Frank admitted. “The song is alarming.”
“The contrast improves it,” Remus said.
Everyone looked towards him.
Remus lowered his hand. “What? It does.”
Sirius pointed approvingly at him. “Exactly. See, he understands art.”
“The assignment was to incorporate Muggle musical styles with original writing and magic,” the professor said. “It was not to serenade the class with threats of dismemberment.”
“It is based upon my own life and experiences,” Regulus said.
The entire room went silent again.
Sirius stared at him.
Regulus stared back.
Then Sirius slowly began to grin.
“Regulus,” Lily said cautiously, “which part?”
“The writing.”
“That did not answer the question.”
“It answered it adequately.”
Peter looked nervous. “Did it?”
“No,” James said. “It made everything worse.”
The professor pinched the bridge of their nose.
“Do you have another song?”
Regulus considered the question.
“Yes.”
“A suitable one.”
He tilted his head.
“Suitable enough.”
“That is not reassuring,” Dorcas said.
The professor pointed towards the guitar. “Something without dismemberment.”
Regulus shifted the guitar slightly against himself.
He placed his fingers over the strings again.
Sirius watched closely. “What is this one?”
Regulus looked at him.
“You’ll see.”
Sirius groaned so loudly that the professors frowned at him.
Regulus began to play.
The new melody was simpler and gentle, drawn from another familiar Muggle song. His fingers moved into it as easily as they had the first, and his body resumed that quiet sway almost immediately.
The room settled again.
Nobody looked bored now.
James was leaning so far forwards that his chest was nearly against the back of his chair.
Lily sat with her arms folded, watching Regulus with a suspicious expression.
Mary and Marlene had moved their chairs closer together.
Alice and Frank exchanged a look.
Fabian and Gideon were both grinning in anticipation.
Peter appeared torn between curiosity and fear.
Remus watched Regulus’s hands.
Sirius rested his chin upon his crossed arms, smiling.
Barty, Evan, Pandora and Dorcas were completely focused upon their friend.
Regulus glanced around the room through lowered lashes.
His expression was soft again.
Almost dreamy.
He sang, “You got a fast car.”
The line came out smooth and quiet.
There was nothing alarming about it.
The professors visibly relaxed.
Regulus played the next few chords.
His gaze moved towards the windows as though he were lost in some wistful memory.
“You drive too fast.”
Sirius’s smile widened.
He knew that expression.
Regulus was enjoying himself far too much.
Regulus’s voice turned tender.
“Please slow down.”
James glanced sideways at Sirius. “This one sounds normal.”
“It has been three lines,” Sirius whispered.
Regulus leaned slightly into the guitar.
“Seventy miles in a school zone.”
Remus’s eyes closed.
Lily sighed.
Mary started laughing.
The professors’ brief relief vanished.
Regulus continued with complete sincerity.
“You’re wiper-blading off the children.”
Peter’s jaw dropped.
Alice made a horrified squeak.
Frank turned towards her, then back towards Regulus.
Fabian slapped Gideon’s arm.
Gideon slapped him back without looking away from the front.
Marlene buried both hands in her hair. “What does that even mean?”
“I know exactly what it means,” Mary said, laughing helplessly, “and I wish I didn’t.”
Barty fell sideways into Evan.
Evan shoved him upright.
“Control yourself.”
“He said wiper-blading!”
“I heard him.”
“He made it sound romantic.”
“I also heard that.”
Dorcas shook her head slowly. “This is the most effort he has ever put into being irritating.”
Pandora smiled. “It is beautiful.”
“It is about vehicular manslaughter,” Evan said.
“Yes,” Pandora replied. “But beautifully.”
Regulus kept the rhythm steady.
His smile was small but impossible to miss.
“You’re gonna get a speeding ticket.”
His voice rose lightly through the phrase.
The lyrics were ridiculous.
The delivery was flawless.
James pointed towards the front. “That is a proper song.”
Lily looked at him. “That is your observation?”
“Listen to it! He has structure.”
“It is still about hitting children with a car.”
“I did not say it was morally good. I said it had structure.”
Remus nodded despite himself. “It does.”
Peter looked at him. “Why are you encouraging this?”
“I am assessing the writing.”
Regulus’s fingers swept gently over the strings.
“You’ll lose your license and your job at Target.”
The unfamiliar Muggle shop name caused several people to glance towards Lily.
She shook her head quickly. “Do not look at me. I am not explaining anything until he stops singing.”
Regulus looked directly at her as he continued to play.
His smile became smugger.
Lily narrowed her eyes.
“You know exactly what you’re doing,” she accused.
Regulus’s response was another perfectly played chord.
“Your vehicle has been impounded.”
Marlene began laughing again.
Mary leaned against her.
Alice was trying very hard to remain composed and failing completely.
Frank had given up trying not to smile.
Fabian and Gideon were silently mouthing the line at each other.
Peter looked as though the absurdity of the entire performance had overwhelmed his ability to respond.
The professors stood side by side at the front, both watching Regulus with identical expressions of weary disbelief.
Regulus lowered his voice for the final line.
His eyes became half-lidded once again.
He swayed gently.
Every note was soft, delicate and painfully sincere.
“Your car is not so fast anymore.”
He let the final word linger.
Then his fingers moved through the closing chords.
The melody softened.
Slowed.
Ended.
For a moment, the room was completely silent.
Regulus remained seated with the guitar against him, one hand resting over the strings. His face was calm, but the smug curve of his mouth ruined any attempt at innocence.
Sirius broke first.
He burst into laughter.
The sound unleashed everyone else.
James threw himself back in his chair, laughing loudly enough to drown out Peter’s startled exclamation.
Mary folded over her desk.
Marlene clung to her shoulder.
Alice covered her face.
Frank shook his head, smiling despite every effort not to.
Fabian and Gideon began repeating, “Your car is not so fast anymore,” to each other in Regulus’s sweet, mournful tone until neither could speak.
Peter looked towards the professors. “Does that count as suitable?”
“No,” Lily said, though she was laughing now too.
Remus rubbed both hands over his face. “Technically, nobody was dismembered.”
“Children were wiper-bladed,” Lily reminded him.
“Technically,” Remus repeated, “that was described, not celebrated.”
“You are working very hard to defend this.”
“I respect the construction.”
Sirius turned towards Regulus, still grinning. “You absolute menace.”
Regulus carefully lifted the guitar strap over his head.
“You liked it.”
“Of course I liked it.”
“Then I fail to see the problem.”
“The problem is that you have apparently been secretly able to sing and play guitar since you were eleven.”
“Not secretly.”
Sirius pointed at Evan and the others. “Did they know?”
“No,” Evan said flatly.
Barty stood from his chair. “I demand another song.”
“You are not in a position to demand anything,” one of the professors said.
“I request another song.”
“No.”
“I politely request another song.”
“No.”
Pandora looked at Regulus. “How many have you written?”
Regulus placed the guitar back with the other instruments.
“A few.”
“A few?” Dorcas repeated.
“How many is a few?” Evan asked.
Regulus picked up his folded parchment.
“A subjective number.”
Barty stared at him. “You are going to play every single one for us.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“We know now.”
“That does not create an obligation.”
“It creates an enormous obligation.”
Regulus returned to his seat.
Barty seized his sleeve the moment he sat down.
“You have a beautiful voice.”
Regulus looked at his hand. “Release me.”
“I cannot. I am overcome.”
Dorcas pulled Barty’s hand away. “Stop grabbing him.”
Evan was still staring at Regulus. “First year?”
“Yes.”
“You taught yourself in first year.”
“Yes.”
“And you never played around us.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Regulus placed the folded parchment upon the desk. “You are all very loud.”
Pandora nodded thoughtfully. “That is reasonable.”
“It is not reasonable,” Barty protested. “I can be quiet.”
Everyone around him looked at him.
Barty frowned. “I can.”
“No,” Evan said.
“You have never once been quiet,” Dorcas added.
“I was quiet during the song.”
“You made several noises.”
“Those were emotional responses.”
Sirius twisted around again. His grin had not faded.
“You’re playing for me later.”
Regulus leaned back in his chair. “Am I?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I am your brother and I have apparently missed five years of musical development.”
“You survived.”
“Barely.”
James leaned around Sirius. “You’re playing for all of us later.”
“No.”
Mary raised a hand. “I would also like to hear another.”
“No.”
Marlene raised hers beside Mary’s. “Seconded.”
Alice cautiously lifted her hand.
Frank looked at her, then raised his as well.
Fabian and Gideon both put up both hands.
Peter glanced around and slowly joined them.
Remus did not raise his hand, but he said, “I would be interested in hearing one with slightly less criminal subject matter.”
Lily sighed. “I would like to know whether he can write a normal song.”
Regulus surveyed the raised hands.
“No.”
Sirius laughed. “You’re outnumbered.”
“I am not participating in a vote.”
The professors called for quiet, though they were both still looking at Regulus as if unsure what mark could possibly account for technical excellence, genuine musical talent and two songs about grotesque violence and reckless driving.
One of them lifted the grading parchment.
“Your guitar work was excellent.”
Regulus nodded.
“Your voice was considerably stronger than expected.”
Another nod.
“Your writing demonstrated an effective understanding of parody, rhythm and the conventions of Muggle popular music.”
Regulus’s expression became insufferably pleased.
“However,” the professor continued, “your choice of subject matter was inappropriate.”
Barty raised his hand. “I disagree.”
“Nobody asked you.”
Barty lowered it.
The second professor looked at Regulus. “You incorporated no visible magic.”
“The music itself was the focus,” Regulus replied.
“And, in this particular case, that was probably wise.”
James raised his hand. “Could he perform the first song again with magical images?”
“No,” said every professor and student except Barty, Pandora and Sirius.
Sirius looked offended. “Why did everyone look at me?”
“Because you were about to say yes,” Lily replied.
“I was.”
Regulus sat with one ankle crossed over the other, his posture composed once more. The strange, soft, romantic performer who had occupied the stool at the front had vanished almost completely.
Almost.
There was still a lingering brightness in his eyes.
A suppressed grin.
A quiet satisfaction that grew every time someone looked at him as though they had never seen him before.
Evan noticed it.
“You planned the entire thing just to shock everyone.”
Regulus looked at him.
“No.”
Barty leaned across the desk. “Liar.”
“I also wanted a good mark.”
Dorcas folded her arms. “And did you?”
The professors exchanged a glance.
Then one of them wrote something upon the parchment.
“Yes,” they said reluctantly. “He did.”
Regulus smiled.
Barty threw both arms into the air. “Art has prevailed.”
“Sit down,” the professor ordered.
“I am sitting.”
“You are half-standing.”
Barty lowered himself.
James was still watching Regulus with open amazement. “Nobody else was even close to that.”
“I was close,” Fabian said.
Gideon looked at him. “No, you weren’t.”
“We were at least memorable.”
“You tripped into a piano.”
“And people will remember it.”
“That is not the same thing.”
Peter looked at Regulus. “Did you know you were better than everyone else?”
Regulus considered him.
“Yes.”
Peter blinked.
Sirius barked out another laugh.
Lily shook her head. “At least he’s honest.”
“He waited until the very end on purpose,” Mary said.
Regulus tapped one finger against his folded parchment. “The order was decided by the professors.”
“You looked very pleased when you saw it,” Marlene said.
“I enjoy finishing things.”
“You enjoy making everyone else look bad,” Dorcas corrected.
“That is occasionally a pleasant side effect.”
Pandora leaned closer to him. “Will you teach me?”
“You have become remarkably confident in interpreting me for somebody who did not know I could play guitar.”
Sirius placed a hand over his chest. “That was cruel.”
Regulus’s lips twitched.
“You’ll recover.”
At the front, the professors attempted to conclude the lesson.
Nobody listened particularly well.
The class had endured an entire collection of short, uneven performances, weak rhymes, forgotten lines and badly played instruments. They had expected Regulus to offer something similarly adequate and then return quietly to his seat.
Instead, he had revealed five years of hidden practice, played the acoustic guitar like it had always belonged in his hands and sung with a soft, smooth brilliance nobody had expected from him.
He had smiled.
He had swayed.
He had cooed lines about broken legs, dismembered bodies, speeding tickets and children being swept from the road by windscreen wipers as if they were declarations of everlasting love.
And now, while his friends interrogated him, his brother laughed, the rest of the class stared and the professors reconsidered every decision that had led them to approve the assignment, Regulus sat in the middle of it all with lowered lashes and a smug little smile.
He looked completely satisfied with himself.
Which, everyone agreed, was probably the most alarming part.
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spa qualifying marked Arvid's SIXTH Q3 appearance out of 10 rounds this year, which means he's appeared in q3 for more than half of all the 2026 qualifying sessions!!!
(this is a kind of joke but also kind of serious) i wonder if just to spite the commentators i can call arvid something like the teenager or the rookie or 18 year old or the youngest driver on the grid for an entire race weekend and just call kimi "the mercedes driver"
like if the commentators can call kimi "the italian teenager" or the "19 year old" almost more than using his actual name we should be able to do it with arvid as well. right? right?
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