Harry Potter: Reborn as Regulus Black

Chapter 300: Cousin Bella, You Want to Fight? [bonus]

Everyone froze.

Bella’s mouth held the shape of her last question, but the next syllable never came. It hung in the air, cut short.

She blinked. It was the first time all evening she’d blinked out of genuine confusion rather than performance.

Narcissa’s fingers tightened on Lucius’s arm. He shifted the snake-head cane to his left hand and laid his right over hers.

Sirius leaned forward as though he’d caught some invisible signal, weight settling onto the balls of his feet.

Rodolphus watched Regulus. That detached, spectator’s expression flickered, a crease forming between his brows before smoothing away.

He stepped away from the doorframe.

Tall, long-strided, robes trailing behind him, he crossed behind Bella and stopped a few paces past her. Not close, but on her side of the room, facing Regulus.

Bella turned her head and glanced at him.

Her lips pressed together. The residual warmth of her performance was draining fast, replaced by something sharper. Wariness.

This wasn’t in her script. Regulus had thrown the conversation to Rodolphus without warning, and she didn’t know what it meant. She wouldn’t interrupt. Not yet.

Her gaze returned to Regulus. The light in her eyes had gone cold.

"Rabastan went after my people at Hogwarts. The two half-bloods."

"He dosed them with Veritaserum, trying to find out what I’d arranged. Got caught. Ran."

A pause, then: "Someone from House Lestrange attacked the people of the Black heir. I thought you should know."

A faint sound came from the corner.

Rabastan’s foot shifted. He shrank further behind the pillar, half his face retreating into shadow until only one eye and a strip of forehead remained in the candlelight.

His complexion had gone grey. His eyes darted, flicking to Rodolphus’s back, then to Bella’s profile, before nailing themselves to the floor.

He wanted to run, but the door the servants had used was sealed with magic. All he could do was press deeper into the shadow and try to be small, try to stop existing.

Regulus had said it in front of everyone. But that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was why he’d done it.

He’d done it to impress Bella. To show her he wasn’t a child anymore, that he could handle things.

If any of that came out...

Rodolphus would learn his brother was fixated on his wife.

And Bella would know too.

She glanced at Rabastan, then away. She looked at Rodolphus, then at Regulus.

She hadn’t known Rabastan had done any of this.

Her letters, her counsel, everything between her and Regulus had always been between her and the House of Black. When had Rabastan inserted himself into it?

Her brow knotted and stayed that way.

Rodolphus stood there, face empty.

He pulled his gaze back from Rabastan.

Fool.

Provoking the Black heir was idiotic enough. Getting caught made it worse. Getting caught and not telling anyone at home, letting the other side throw it in his face in public... that was unforgivable.

Pure-blood families lost more face over things like this than over a lost Wizengamot vote.

House Lestrange did not stoop to that kind of skulking.

And the boy couldn’t even hide properly.

Rodolphus had assumed this was Black family business, Bella pulling and pushing with her younger cousin. Nothing to do with the Lestranges. He’d watched the show all evening, planning to go to bed the moment the Blacks left.

Now he’d been dragged onstage.

He looked at Regulus again.

The boy had been pinned under Bella’s pressure for so long, and now he’d pivoted to the Lestranges. A deflection?

One possibility surfaced: the kid came here for us from the start.

But the thought flickered and faded. Unlikely. A twelve-year-old wizard facing Bella’s full weight was doing well just to hold his ground. He wouldn’t deliberately pull the Lestranges in on top of that.

More likely a tactical redirect. Bella had pressed too hard, so he’d used Rabastan’s blunder to split the pressure, give himself room to breathe.

A young wizard’s gambit. Not brilliant, but measured.

House Lestrange held a high position in Voldemort’s ranks. His own loyalty was beyond question.

But loyalty was loyalty, and family dignity was something else entirely.

The Lestranges had no elder generation left to anchor them. Their holdings couldn’t match the Malfoys’. Their political reach couldn’t match the Blacks’.

What held the family together was his absolute devotion to Voldemort.

Open conflict with the Blacks wasn’t worth it.

"What do you want?"

No excess in his voice. No denial, no excuses, no demand for the full story. Just the price.

There was no point in anything else. The Black heir had said it in front of all of them. The Head of House Black stood beside him without a word of objection. That was all the verdict anyone needed.

Asking are you sure or is there some mistake would only deepen the humiliation.

Regulus didn’t answer.

He turned his head and looked at Sirius.

"Sirius...."

Sirius didn’t understand the word. But he’d been waiting for exactly this.

His mouth pulled sideways, stretching wide, until a completely unguarded grin split his face.

The entire banquet, he’d stood next to Orion for hours listening to drivel, staring at dozens of fake smiles. He’d endured Walburga’s nagging, the fawning of minor families, Bella’s speech that made his skin crawl, and then her circling Regulus like prey.

Every ounce of restraint cashed out the instant he heard that word.

He stepped away from Orion.

He walked, drawing his wand from his robes as he went, spinning it once between his fingers.

Something Regulus had told him echoed in his head: Show up at the key moment. Everyone watching. One clean hit.

Cool.

He felt incredibly cool right now.

Every eye in the room was on him as he crossed the Lestrange banquet hall, heading for a Lestrange.

So cool.

When Rabastan saw Sirius walking toward him, his first thought was: This is wrong.

A Black. A Gryffindor Black. Drawing a wand in Lestrange Manor? Wasn’t he afraid of Rodolphus? Of Bella?

None of this should be happening. He was a Lestrange. This was his house...

He ran out of time to think. Sirius’s wand came up.

Rabastan’s eyes shot to Rodolphus one last time, a desperate flicker of hope.

Rodolphus stood where he was, facing Regulus. He never turned around.

Sirius stopped five paces from Rabastan and flicked his wand.

"Expelliarmus."

A bolt of light struck Rabastan’s chest. No need to aim. Just speed.

The wand tore free, clipped the edge of a stone pillar, spun into the air, and rolled under the long table into a pile of half-cleared dishes. It clattered, hollow and sharp.

Rabastan stared at his empty hand. "You..."

Sirius pocketed his wand.

He closed the distance, left fist clenched, and drove it upward into Rabastan’s right ribs.

He remembered how Regulus had hit him once. Same method. Same angle.

He used the same form, the same trajectory. The fist connected with rib bone, and the force was solid.

But the angle was slightly off. It didn’t feel right.

Rabastan doubled over, face contorting, but stayed on his feet. He even managed to raise a hand to block, a choked grunt escaping through clenched teeth.

Sirius yelled and threw another punch. Still standing.

Irritation flared. He swung again, shifting his target lower, to the softer spot beneath the ribs.

Rabastan’s legs buckled. His body slid down the pillar until he sat on the floor, both hands clutching his stomach, face crumpled.

Sirius stood over him, breathing hard, shaking out his hand. His knuckles throbbed.

He looked down at Rabastan on the ground, and his grin broke wide open. Pure satisfaction.

The hall erupted.

Walburga reacted first. A shriek tore out of her, shock and fury tangled together, pitched high and cutting: "Sirius! What are you doing!"

Her hand was already on her wand, the grip sliding into her palm. She spun toward Regulus, mouth opening for the next volley.

Orion caught her wrist.

A small motion. One hand settling over hers, closing down.

Walburga whipped around to face him, eyes blown wide, mouth open, words jamming in her throat.

She stared at his face. Expressionless.... ,otionless.... his breathing hadn’t changed.

She looked at Regulus. The same.

She looked at Sirius. Grinning ear to ear, eyes bright, still shaking out his hand over Rabastan.

It hit her all at once. The three of them had planned this.

Orion knew. Regulus orchestrated it. Sirius executed it.

She was the only one who’d known nothing, start to finish.

Her mouth closed slowly. Her hand, held under Orion’s, went still.

The expression on her face shifted between fury and something wounded, back and forth, until it sank into a rigid silence.

Narcissa’s reaction came a beat late.

She’d felt something was wrong the moment Sirius moved, but it wasn’t until fist met flesh that a short, sharp gasp escaped her. Her hand flew to her mouth and she stepped forward.

"Sirius..."

Lucius’s hand found her waist, palm flat against her ribs, and guided her back a step, positioning himself in front of her.

She turned to look at him.

He wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was fixed on the hall, eyes narrowing slightly.

They did this knowing Bella can’t react.

Lucius said nothing. Made no move.

Rodolphus stayed where he was, facing Regulus, expression blank.

He hadn’t looked back once while Rabastan was beaten. He only watched Regulus, and the meaning in his gaze was simple.

That’s it?

Just a beating?

But Bella didn’t see it that way.

The moment Sirius’s first punch landed, her hand was reaching for her wand.

She understood now. Regulus had never come here to submit.

All her circling, all her words, every piece of her performance... it was just dead air he’d waited through.

She’d been ignored. She’d been played.

He’d struck on her territory. He’d sent Sirius, in her banquet hall, to beat a Lestrange.

Sirius. A Gryffindor. A blood traitor. The kind of Black she despised most.

He’d disarmed Rabastan’s wand, then put away his own. Used his fists. Didn’t even think Rabastan was worth magic. Like beating a dog.

Both insults layered together made her want to tear everything in the room apart.

The expression on Bella’s face cracked. It started at the corners of her mouth, spread to her eyes, and in the space of a single second she became someone else entirely.

Her hand came out of the fold of her skirt, wand in her grip. She turned. Aimed at Sirius.

Light gathered at the tip of her wand.

But before her curse could fly, a flash of light came from behind and to the side, colliding with her spell at the exact instant it left the wand tip.

The two spells crashed in midair. The curse shattered into a shower of sparks that flared once and died.

Bella’s spell was gone.

Regulus stood a few paces away, wand in hand.

"Cousin Bella."

His voice carried through the silent hall, the same tone as before, the same tone as every sentence he’d spoken tonight. Nothing had changed.

"You want to fight?"

Bella spun to face him, and then, without warning, she laughed.

She remembered his silence all evening, and it clicked. He wanted this.

From the moment she’d walked up to him, he’d wanted this.

She tilted her head, gaze scraping across his face. All the fury of being toyed with, the humiliation of being dismissed, the sting of her control being challenged, all of it melted into the one thing she knew best and loved most.

"You think winning against a few students at Hogwarts..." Her voice burned, every word trembling: "...means you can stand in front of me?"

Regulus didn’t answer. He raised his wand and leveled the tip at her.

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