Cutlery clattered against plates, goblets rang with careless toasts, laughter spilled loud and unchecked across the long house tables. The enchanted ceiling glowed a soft, drifting blue, clouds rolling lazily overhead as if the sky itself had decided to spectate the chaos below.
Gryffindor’s table was the loudest, as usual.
Sirius Black had one boot on the bench, halfway standing as he argued with James Potter over something deeply important—namely, whether or not a hippogriff would respect someone who tripped over their own robes twice in one week.
“I didn’t trip,” James insisted, mouth full of potatoes. “The floor attacked me.”
“The floor,” Sirius echoed, deadpan. “Violently assaulted you.”
Remus Lupin sighed into his book.
Peter snorted into his drink.
Across the hall—
Slytherin was… not quieter, exactly.
Just sharper.
More controlled chaos. Less yelling, more biting commentary.
At the center of it sat Regulus Black, pale and composed, lazily picking apart a piece of bread as if the world moved at his pace and not the other way around.
Beside him, Evan Rosier was mid-conversation—half-laughing, half-complaining, gesturing wildly with his fork as he talked to Barty and Pandora.
“—and then he says to me, right, he says—”
Evan stopped.
Froze.
Went completely, horrifyingly still.
“…no.”
Barty didn’t even look up. “What.”
Evan leaned back slightly. Very slowly.
Pointed.
“There.”
Pandora followed his finger.
Dorcas leaned over.
Barty finally glanced up.
There, on the table.
Small.
Black.
Moving.
A spider.
There was a beat.
A long, terrible beat.
Evan inhaled sharply through his teeth.
“Nope.”
He stood abruptly—bench screeching against stone—and grabbed the nearest thing he could find.
A bowl.
“Absolutely not,” he muttered, voice already pitching higher. “Not today. Not in my vicinity. I refuse.”
He slammed the bowl down over the spider with a sharp clack.
Silence.
Then—
A collective exhale.
Evan sagged slightly, hand still pressed to the top of the bowl like he was holding down a bomb.
“…okay,” he breathed. “Okay. It’s fine. It’s contained. It’s—”
“Trapped a spider under a bowl?”
Regulus’s voice slid in, smooth and amused.
Evan turned slowly.
Regulus was watching him.
Grey eyes bright.
Mouth curling.
That look.
That look.
“No,” Evan said immediately, pointing at him. “No. Don’t. Don’t even—”
Regulus tilted his head.
Smiled wider.
“Oh?”
Evan’s grip on the bowl tightened.
“Regulus,” he warned, voice wobbling slightly, “I mean it.”
Regulus did not respond.
He simply reached—slow, deliberate—and picked up another bowl from the table.
Identical.
Placed it beside the first.
Evan stared.
“…no.”
“Hmm,” Regulus hummed thoughtfully.
“Regulus—”
“No no no—”
“Regulus—”
“—no, I don’t like that, I don’t like that at all—”
Regulus’s smile sharpened.
And then—
He moved.
Quick hands.
Smooth.
He lifted the first bowl—
Switched—
Set it down—
Slid them—
Spun them—
Effortless, fluid, like a street magician with far too much confidence and absolutely no regard for human suffering.
“Regulus—”
“Stop—”
“Stop, stop, STOP—”
“—not again, not again—”
Evan’s voice climbed into a full, panicked whine.
Across the table, Barty burst into laughter.
Pandora choked on her drink.
Dorcas slapped a hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking.
Regulus kept going.
Shuffle.
Slide.
Tap.
Spin.
“Regulus Black I will kill you—”
“Will you?” Regulus murmured lightly, not even looking up.
“YES—”
“Pity.”
Shuffle.
Spin.
Pause.
He leaned back slightly.
Gestured.
“Pick.”
Evan stared at the bowls like they personally betrayed him.
“…you’re sick.”
“Mm.”
“You’re actually unwell.”
“Probably.”
“Which one has it.”
Regulus only smiled.
Evan made a strangled noise.
“I hate you.”
“Unlikely.”
“I hate you so much.”
“Still unlikely.”
“Barty,” Evan snapped, not looking away from the bowls, “if I die, I’m haunting you specifically.”
Barty wheezed. “I didn’t do anything!”
“You enabled him!”
“That’s fair,” Pandora said.
“Thank you,” Evan snapped.
He pointed again.
“Which. One.”
Regulus leaned forward slightly.
Eyes gleaming.
“Pick.”
Evan made a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a sob.
Around them, attention had started to shift.
Heads turning.
Voices quieting.
Because Slytherin chaos was rare.
And when it happened—
It was worth watching.
From across the hall—
Sirius squinted.
“…is that Regulus?”
James leaned over. “What’s he doing—”
Remus blinked. “Are those bowls—”
Peter leaned forward. “Oh no.”
Back at the table—
Evan crouched slightly, eye level with the bowls like that would somehow help.
“This is psychological warfare,” he muttered.
Regulus said nothing.
Evan pointed at the left one.
“No.”
He pointed at the right.
“No—”
He grabbed his hair.
“I can’t do this.”
“You can,” Regulus said softly.
“I can’t—”
“You can.”
“I won’t—”
“You will.”
“YOU’RE ENJOYING THIS—”
“Immensely.”
Evan made a full, dramatic wail.
“Oh my god—”
People were staring now.
Fully.
Openly.
Gryffindor had gone silent.
Which, frankly, was terrifying.
Sirius stood up on the bench.
“WHAT IS HAPPENING—”
“SHUT UP,” Evan screamed across the hall without looking.
“I WAS JUST ASKING—”
“NOT NOW—”
James was already laughing.
Remus had his head in his hands.
Back at the table—
Evan sucked in a breath.
Pointed again.
“This one.”
Regulus raised a brow.
“Confident?”
“No.”
“Excellent.”
“Regulus—”
“Open it.”
“REGULUS—”
“Open it.”
Evan squeezed his eyes shut.
Hand trembling.
He lifted the bowl.
Fast.
Peeked.
Nothing.
Silence.
Then—
Relief hit him like a wave.
“Oh thank fuck—”
He sagged.
Hand over his heart.
“I’m alive.”
Barty clapped. “Brave.”
Pandora wiped tears from her eyes.
Dorcas leaned over. “Proud of you.”
Evan glared at all of them.
Then—
Slowly—
Horribly—
He turned.
To the other bowl.
“…no.”
Regulus rested his chin in his hand.
Watching.
Waiting.
Evan backed up slightly.
“No, I’m done. I’m done. It’s contained. It can stay there forever. That’s its home now.”
“Evan.”
“No.”
“Evan.”
“No—”
“Evan.”
“NO—”
“Evan.”
“STOP SAYING MY NAME LIKE THAT—”
“Open it.”
“NO—”
“Open it.”
“I REFUSE—”
“Coward.”
Evan gasped.
“Take that back.”
“Open it.”
“TAKE THAT BACK—”
“Open it.”
“I’LL DO IT—”
“Good.”
“I HATE YOU—”
“Open it.”
“—I’M DOING IT—”
He lunged.
Snatched the bowl.
Lifted—
The spider moved.
Evan SCREAMED.
High-pitched.
Horrified.
Full-body recoil as he launched backwards, crashing into Barty, who also screamed as both of them went down in a tangle of limbs and panic.
“IT’S MOVING—”
“IT WAS ALWAYS MOVING—”
“WHY IS IT FAST—”
“SPIDERS ARE FAST—”
“WHY—”
“I DON’T KNOW—”
Pandora shrieked.
Dorcas grabbed her arm.
Someone knocked over a goblet.
Across the hall—
Gryffindor erupted.
Sirius HOWLED with laughter.
James nearly fell off the bench.
Peter was wheezing.
Remus looked like he was reconsidering his life choices.
“WHAT DID YOU DO—” Sirius yelled.
“HE’S A MENACE—” Evan screamed back from the floor.
Regulus sat calmly at the center of it all.
Composed.
Elegant.
Watching the chaos like it was theatre.
He reached out.
Picked up the bowl again.
Covered the spider once more.
Tapped the top gently.
“See?” he said mildly. “Contained.”
Evan, still half on the floor, pointed at him with shaking fury.
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1. Doesn't have "anti" tag, no one even thought to make it
2. Has an "anti" tag because while there are haters, the lovers outnumber them
3. Doesn't have an "anti" tag because those who love him also say so much shit about him it's just all in the same tag (you'd think it can be mixed with level one, but no).
4. Has "anti" tag and "pro" tag. Neither lovers nor haters know which group is biggest and they stick to their camps
5. Only has a "pro" tag. Hate is just in the main tag. Haters far outnumber the lovers.
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