Chapter 1: Cat's Got It
Summary:
This time:
Horrifying consequences befall Regulus Black for defending his brother.
Chapter warning tags: child abuse, blood and violence, eating disorder.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Year 1: Codependence
Beta: TheDisreputableDog
June
“A Gryffindor,” Walburga Black whispered, her hands shaking with rage as she clutched a crumpled letter to her chest. “A Gryffindor!”
Regulus Black kept his eyes trained on his plate as his brother, Sirius, held very still next to him. They were sequestered in the dining room of their ancestral family home a scant breath after retrieving Sirius from the train station after his successful completion of his first year at Hogwarts.
Well… successful was apparently not the word their mother was thinking of when she had hissed at Sirius to hurry up at Platform 9¾, Regulus at her skirts trying to catch a glimpse of his older brother.
Sirius had carefully avoided coming home for the Yule holiday, citing a bad potion-resistant flu, but there was no escaping their mother now.
“You didn’t even have the nerve to say so yourself!” she sneered, slamming the parchment on the table. “I had to hear it from Bellatrix!”
“Bellatrix is a bootlicker,” Sirius muttered with all the bravado of a twelve year old. If the situation had been any different, Regulus would have laughed.
The familiar crack of a Stinging Hex made both brothers jump.
Sirius hissed in pain.
“Your cousin is going places!” their mother snarled. “She’s a proper Slytherin. Your aunt has informed me that they are in talks with the Lestranges for a betrothal contract. And what have you done this year, Sirius? Shamed us all! You have made a spectacle of yourself at every turn. As if it wasn’t enough to be sorted into Gryffindor–you’ve been consorting with mudbloods and filth–!”
Regulus didn’t know what made him say it; didn’t even realize he was going to say it. But suddenly, he opened his mouth and the words came out:
“I think he’s wonderful.”
Dead silence settled like dust. Even their father, Orion Black, who was watching the exchange with a disinterested sort of irritation, looked surprised.
Surprising their parents was a dangerous thing to do.
The sudden grip of Sirius’s hand in his under the table nearly made it worth it.
For a second, it almost was.
“What did you say, Regulus?” their mother asked darkly, standing slowly. Her gray eyes narrowed and there was an unhinged quality to her gaze.
Sirius’s nails dug into the back of his hand.
Regulus just shook his head, refusing to speak.
“Say it again, boy!”
He couldn’t.
He wouldn’t.
A long silence stretched out before them.
His heart pounded and his breath quickened.
Regulus had no idea how long it had truly been when their mother finally spoke again, but it felt like an eternity. The eleven year old boy stared hard at his plate, willing their mother to drop it; to dismiss him.
“If you won’t speak when spoken to, then you will not speak at all.”
When their mother raised her wand to curse him, Regulus was prepared for anything from a Stinging Hex to a Silencing Charm. What he was not prepared for was the searing pain in his mouth or the choking well of warm blood.
Agony.
Ripping, tearing pain.
He tried to scream, but he was drowning; drowning in hot blood running down the back of his throat and into his stomach and lungs. Regulus lurched forward, both hands on the table in front of him, and tried desperately to expel mouthfuls of bright red blood from his lips to avoid choking on it.
Beside him, Sirius launched to his feet, his chair tipping back with a bang. “Reggie!”
Even their father looked unwell. “Walburga…”
Regulus felt Sirius grip him tightly from behind, holding him close.
Something in his mouth was coming away. Regulus could feel it writhing like a worm, frantically trying to escape. With a watery gag, he coughed and spat in Sirius’s arms until a lump of meat came spilling onto the tabletop.
It was his tongue.
“YOU’RE CRAZY!” Sirius shouted, wide-eyed and flushed with all the impotent fury of a child. He clutched Regulus’s trembling body more tightly to him. “You’re out of your fucking mind!”
“Don’t you dare speak to me like that!” their mother hissed.
Meanwhile, Regulus was truly drowning. He’d had nightmares before about what it might be like—
dark cold water—
—but the reality of gasping for air and receiving only fluid was viscerally terrifying.
He was dying.
Around him, people were yelling.
“YOU’RE KILLING HIM!”
“KREACHER!”
“OPEN YOUR MOUTH, BOY!”
Distantly, Regulus could feel someone trying to cast a healing spell. The amputated remains where his tongue had been attached tingled briefly, but the flow of blood didn’t stop.
“LET GO OF HIM, SIRIUS!”
“NO! REGGIE, WAKE UP!”
A faint rattle emanated from his throat.
Regulus fell unconscious.
Sirius would later tell the tale with the hush of a horror story:
As head of the Black family, their grandfather had found out what had happened almost instantly. In every magical lineage document featuring the Black line all over the world, the name Regulus Arcturus Black had his year of birth–1961–scrawled elegantly under it. At the start of that awful dinner, the year of death remained blank. As he began to drown in his own blood, however, the faint outline of the current year began to trace itself into that space.
1972.
Regulus had already fallen unconscious in a pile of blood-stained dove-gray robes when their grandfather arrived through the fireplace. Sirius and their mother were still screaming at each other, the noise of it echoing off the walls. In the chaos of the moment, none of them noticed him, but Lord Arcturus Black hardly needed an introduction.
“SILENCE!”
Even their mother slammed her jaw shut.
Their grandfather was as steel-eyed as his niece and fine-boned as his son–an unnerving reminder that their parents were also second cousins. Taking in the scene around him, Lord Black pointed at Kreacher of all people.
Kreacher, who had been summoned to deliver healing potions, froze under his gaze.
“You. Explain.”
The ancient house-elf blinked his bulging blue eyes and twitched his large hairy ears. Unable to tell a lie to the head of house even if he wanted to, Kreacher immediately answered: “Mistress Black has cut out Young Master Regulus’s tongue.”
Their grandfather’s gaze shifted to Sirius, collapsed on the floor with his brother’s upper body clutched to his chest.
There was blood everywhere.
Regulus’s skin was colorless; lifeless.
Breathless.
Pulseless.
“Put him on his back.”
Scrambling to obey, Sirius did just that. He watched their grandfather raise his blackthorn wand and wordlessly flick it, transfiguring a wine glass into a large circular blob of rubber, which leapt onto Regulus’s chest to pulsate just over his heart. A second spell afterward didn’t have visible effects, but it made Regulus much cooler to the touch.
Raising his wand again, their grandfather flicked it towards Regulus’s unnervingly still form, then drew it back towards himself as though reeling in a fish. With each successive inch, Regulus’s mouth slowly opened. More blood drizzled onto Sirius’s already ruined robes where he held his head close.
In one flash of bad judgment, Sirius looked down past his brother’s red-stained teeth.
Merlin, he wished he hadn’t.
A bloody lump of meat sat shapelessly at the back of Regulus’s mouth. It drooled bubbly, wine-red fluid and occasionally quivered and twitched like the living thing it was.
Sirius turned his head to the side and vomited violently all over the floor.
Arcturus Black began his attempt to staunch the flow of blood. It wasn’t a quick process; the clock chimed seven times to announce the hour and then eight times an hour after that. Sirius clenched his fists tightly, smelling charred flesh as their grandfather finally decided on burning the wound closed. When it stopped gushing, another spell drew out what felt like buckets of partially-clotted blood that had filled Regulus’s lungs, which had stopped him from taking in air.
Still, he wasn’t breathing.
None of them dared to speak as Lord Black narrowed his eyes at his grandson. Raising his blackthorn wand again, he pointed it at Regulus.
“Crucio.”
Sirius jumped, preparing to intercept the unexpectedly cruel action. His intervention turned out to be unnecessary, however, because the dark curse touched Regulus for only three seconds before the boy’s eyes flew open with a weak cry and Arcturus immediately stopped.
“Reggie!” Sirius yanked his brother around to face him.
“Crucio!”
For one wild moment, Sirius thought his grandfather was going to curse Regulus again–but instead, screams erupted from the other side of the room.
Grandfather was cursing their mother.
“You really are the worst of our madness,” he told Walburga contemptuously, ignoring both her convulsions and the stiffening presence of his son. “A shrew and a harpy. The stupidity of it all. And what would you have done if I hadn’t come? I doubt you would have gone to St. Mungo’s.”
“Father…” Orion murmured, no doubt aware of the inordinate length of time his wife had been under the curse already.
“And you.” Arcturus sized him up with scorn, not letting up his wand. “Feeble. Mindless. Too spineless to stop your wife and too incompetent to fix her mistakes. Truly, what use do I have for you, Orion?” Finally he abandoned Walburga in order to fling a nasty Choking Hex at his son. On contact, their father’s eyes widened and he clutched his throat in panic as he tried to inhale with agonal rattles. “I will have order in this household, or I will gut this household like a fish. Do we understand each other?”
Their father nodded repeatedly, gasping abruptly as their grandfather suspended the hex.
For a moment, that was all there was:
Orion Black leaning heavily on the back of a chair, attempting to catch his breath.
Walburga Black huddled on the floor with her back against the wall, trembling finely.
Sirius Black sitting cross-legged with his little brother’s head in his lap, staring up at his grandfather.
And Regulus Black, slowly coming-to, covered in his own congealing blood, and keeping his lips tightly shut.
July
“Do you want the orange one?” Sirius asked, holding up robes done in a shocking tangerine.
Wrinkling his nose, Regulus shook his head.
Sirius laughed at him. “Well, how about the red?”
Regulus rolled his eyes and pointed at Sirius.
“For me?” His brother held up the maroon dress robes in front of his mirror, looking thoughtful. “Maybe,” he allowed. “Though I think anything that reminds mother of Gryffindor is a bit risky.”
Regulus’s hand reflexively went to his throat, swallowing.
It had been nearly a month since Walburga Black had cut off her son’s tongue and their grandfather had ordered her to fix it. In the time since, Regulus had refused to leave Sirius’s side. Mostly, he clutched a handful of Sirius’s robes and followed him around Grimmauld Place. Occasionally he would stray as far as the opposite side of a room to retrieve something, but quickly returned to the safety of his brother’s side.
This seemed to suit Sirius just fine. His older brother watched his movements with a hawklike focus when he was out of reach, drawing him nearer whenever they were in the threatening presence of their parents.
Even Walburga seemed startled at how close to death Regulus had been pushed. The Black family madness was closing in on her, that much was obvious, but even she recognized the severity of killing her own son.
Still, it hardly meant she was any nicer to either of them.
Their parents carried on as usual, deciding to pretend that nothing had ever happened. Refusing to acknowledge her actions, their mother still forced the brothers to attend meals at the same dining table where she’d carved her son’s tongue from his head. There was one glaring challenge in her campaign to ignore that horrible evening, however.
Regulus could no longer swallow.
Without his tongue, he sputtered and coughed on absolutely everything. In a terrible cycle, Walburga would demand that Regulus eat what was served, he would resist, she would hit him with Stinging Hexes until he did, and then he would choke on his food.
“Disgusting, sloven boor!” she would shriek as particles sprayed over the pressed linen tablecloth.
He had caught pneumonia twice already from foreign substances sliding into his lungs rather than his stomach and had lost fifteen pounds from illness and lack of nutrition. Kreacher had tearfully reported that he had been forbidden from bringing Regulus anything to eat outside the dining room, but with some negotiation on Sirius’s part, he and the elf had reasoned that nutrition potions weren’t eaten, but rather drunk, and therefore did not count.
“Did you take your milkshake?” Sirius asked, putting the maroon robes back on his closet rack.
Grimacing, Regulus shrugged.
“You need to do it before dinner, kid,” Sirius reprimanded. He pulled out a set of silver-white robes. “These would look good on you.”
Regulus shrugged again, reaching up into a cupboard charmed to be ever-cold. From it, he withdrew a chocolate nutrition potion from the supply Kreacher had secreted away for him. He poked a very long straw into the glass bottle, stuck the opposite end as far back into his mouth as he could, and began to take slow sips of the thick liquid.
A small pop announced Kreacher’s arrival to Sirius’s room.
“Mistress is informing Kreacher that Young Masters are to arrive in the dining room in five minutes,” the elf croaked.
Sirius scowled at him, shoving a plain dark gray robe over his head. “Bully for you. Bet you’re having the time of your life watching that harpy descend into madness. Fuck this family and fuck you.”
Regulus thought that was a bit unfair of him. Kreacher would no doubt face severe consequences if their parents found him sneaking nutrition potions to Regulus, but he did it anyway. Despite the consequences, despite Sirius’s blatant antagonism, he kept the supplement shakes stocked religiously.
If anyone other than Sirius loved him, it was Kreacher.
“Kreacher is proud to serve the House of Black,” came the rejoinder. “You is a nasty little boy!”
With a soundless sigh, Regulus put his potion down and gestured for them to stop arguing. His brother just pulled a face, picked up the silver robes from before, and began wrestling them onto Regulus. He was still small for his age but had gained back a few pounds of weight with the aid of Kreacher’s supplements. Regulus was a head shorter than Sirius, who was beginning to hit his growth spurt, with shocking silver eyes and hair made up of neat sets of loose black curls that brushed his jaw.
“There! Perfect!” Sirius proclaimed, ruffling his soft locks with a grin. “Let’s go.”
Taking his customary handful of Sirius’s robes, Regulus allowed himself to be led to the dining room. When they arrived, something made Sirius pause in the doorway, blocking his view.
“Ah, Sirius, Regulus. Come sit down.”
His brother didn’t move.
Confused, Regulus tugged slightly on Sirius. When that didn’t work, he leaned around his brother’s body to judge the situation for himself.
To his surprise, he found three unknown people already seated with their parents. The two adults–a blond man and a blonder woman–both resembled the young girl sitting between them. She couldn’t have been much older than the two brothers, but she was dressed as finely as any adult in glittering jewelry with clear stones that hung around her neck and from her ears. She had uncommonly bright sky eyes that trained on Sirius.
Anxious at the sight of strangers, Regulus dropped his grip on Sirius self-consciously but remained standing behind him. He hadn’t seen anyone outside the family since before… that night. What were their parents playing at? He couldn’t speak! He couldn’t even eat without humiliating himself!
Finally, Sirius moved forward.
“May I introduce my sons, Sirius and Regulus Black,” their father drawled from his seat at the head of the table. “And in turn, may they know Lord and Lady Fawley, and their daughter, Isadora.”
Unwilling to leave his brother’s side, Regulus had no choice but to follow Sirius to their usual seats near the center of the table, opposite Lady Fawley and her daughter. There was an odd look on Sirius’s face, like he was trying to work out what was going on too.
“Sirius Black,” Lord Fawley mused, accepting the glass of wine Kreacher produced. “You really do look like one. I’ve seen those eyes on half your cousins!” His scrutiny shifted to observe Regulus, who resisted the urge to turn away. “Hm. But I’ve never seen a shade of silver quite like that. It’s really very lovely.”
Startled, Regulus felt a slight flush creep up his cheeks at the sudden attention. Beside him, Sirius began to look agitated.
“What is this about, exactly?”
“Sirius,” their mother warned, “the Fawleys have been looking forward to meeting you for some time now. You will behave.”
Scowling slightly, Sirius brushed a strand of hair back behind his ear. Regulus saw the girl, Isadora, follow the movement with a strange blush.
“It is fortuitous that the two of you should be in the same year,” Lord Fawley said, blatantly ignoring the tension. “Have you met? Childhood friendships can make betrothals very pleasant.”
Betrothal.
Sirius stiffened beside him. It wasn’t surprising; not really. Sirius was the heir of their line and their parents were obsessed with continuing their pureblood legacy–preferably with another member of the Sacred 28. In the old families, it was never too early to start working on that.
“No,” Isadora answered when Sirius didn’t speak. “We haven’t met before, father.”
“Gryffindors and Slytherins don’t spend much time together,” Walburga said with a bite. She was clearly unhappy with the reminder that her son had failed to be placed in an acceptable house.
A tense silence fell.
“That’s an interesting fish you have there, Lady Black,” Lady Fawley said delicately, sensing the uncomfortable atmosphere. She carefully redirected the conversation by openly observing the center of the table.
“Yes, it is a… recent acquisition.”
Regulus hadn’t bothered looking closely, but now that she brought it up, he couldn’t help but glance down.
“Isadora is also quite the aquarist, aren’t you darling? Why don’t you tell us how your seahorse hatchlings are doing…?”
Amid a brand new beautiful centerpiece of summer flowers was a decorative jar filled with lightly glowing water. Swimming inside it was indeed the ugliest fish Regulus had ever seen. The haze of the potion and curve of the glass distorted it enough that it was difficult to truly view it all at once, but in glimpses, Regulus could see that it was purplish-pink, small but fleshy with no discernible fins or—
“Oh Merlin,” Sirius breathed.
He found that his brother was staring at the jar too. He looked suddenly ill; horrified.
Regulus jerked his eyes back to the jar just in time for the thing inside it to float by.
It was his tongue.
“Is something wrong?”
Regulus’s eyes rose a few inches to refocus on the girl opposite him.
Isadora frowned slightly. “You’re not very chatty, are you?”
Next to him, his brother was staring intensely at their mother, who met his eye unwaveringly. The message was very obvious.
Play nicely or else.
The dinner continued with that invisible ax hanging over them. The conversation turned to academics. Isadora boasted about her high transfiguration scores while Sirius, thoroughly shaken, began to grapple with the art of redirecting questions away from Regulus through sheer charm.
Sirius had a good head start. The straight fall of his dark hair seemed to captivate the preteen girl when he ran his fingers carelessly through it. He was witty to Lord Fawley and thoughtful to his wife. Regulus watched him practice variations of smiles, diligently searching for one that might keep anyone from seeking his brother out for conversation. His hand under the tablecloth gripping Regulus’s was the only indication that his interest in Isadora was false. Despite his flirtations, Regulus could sense the agitation lurking under his skin.
Sirius wanted to leave.
Now.
Ten minutes ago, even.
But what either of them wanted hardly mattered, so the betrothal dinner–the first of what was sure to be many–dragged on.
A few glasses of wine in, Lord Fawley turned his attention to Regulus once more. “When will you be betrothing your second son? Fawleys are known for their fascinating eye color, and as I said, those eyes of his are stunning. Very rare. I have a second daughter, three years younger than this one. I would be pleased to have such a feature run in my bloodline.”
As one, the entire table turned to observe Regulus.
He froze in horror.
“Is he shy?” Isadora asked when Regulus failed to speak.
“Just around beautiful girls,” Sirius said smoothly, siphoning attention off his brother yet again.
Isadora blushed pink, abandoning her question with a laugh. Sirius smiled at her with perfect teeth and a playful flash of his iron gray eyes.
“The Blacks typically betroth our heir before our spare,” their mother commented bluntly, surveying her second son with calculating eyes.
Out of sight, Regulus’s hand twisted more tightly with Sirius’s.
“Understood, understood,” Lady Fawley nodded. “He’s very pretty about the face. I hope he doesn’t grow out of that.”
Walburga only hummed in agreement.
“Does he have any Seer talent to him?” Lady Fawley asked, leaning forward. “I know the Blacks brought in some Ollivander blood back before that line went a bit funny. Their Seers had this same lovely eye color but I’ll be damned if every last one of them didn’t go blind by age twenty.”
Regulus felt the breath hitch in his lungs. He didn’t know or care one whit about divination, but he didn’t want to go blind.
Next to him, Sirius spoke after a carefully judged pause. “Would the adults like to talk in private? I’d like to show you around the gardens, Isadora.”
Lady Fawley looked only too pleased to hear this. “Twenty minutes only, Sirius. And stay just out there where we can see you.” She gestured to the series of massive glass windows lining the walls, providing a complete view of the flowering summer gardens outside.
“Regulus?” Sirius prompted, standing up. “C’mon.”
Out of habit, he glanced over at their mother, checking for an unstable reaction.
This time, it didn’t come. “Do what your brother says, Regulus.”
Relieved, he stood along with the other two children, feeling his brother’s hand slide away. Their parents were so pleased by Sirius’s unexpected cooperation that no one commented when Sirius and the girl went left towards the doors outside while Regulus went right towards the staircase.
Sirius had bought him a chance to escape and Regulus didn’t need to be told twice to take it.
Instead of following the path to his own room, he scurried into Sirius’s bed to await his return. Now that the panic of the moment had passed, the guilt of abandoning his brother made his stomach churn.
The minutes passed.
For want of anything else to do, Regulus began to fidget with the knick-knacks on his brother’s desk. A framed photo of the two of them together in the Black Castle library sat centerfold, both pre-Hogwarts age and looking on with interest at Regulus’s explorations. The photo version of Sirius lay sprawled on the carpeted floor while his brother sat primly on one end of the sofa they had both been posing on.
There were other photos nearby now, all of them depicting Sirius with his new Gryffindor classmates. In particular, the same three boys were a constant presence. They were smiling and laughing in the perpetuity of their photograph and Sirius looked so much… happier.
The thought swept fear through his stomach and Regulus immediately averted his eyes to look at something else.
Slightly hidden behind a frame containing the four Gryffindor boys linking arms and grinning at the camera was a small card-like box filled with paper tubes that smelled strange. He picked one up to look more closely at it, curious.
“Put it back, kid.”
Regulus jumped.
Sirius had returned. He yanked at his tie as he entered the room, kicking the door shut behind him and grinning at his brother.
Regulus pointed at the sticks with a questioning expression.
“Cigarettes,” Sirius answered easily, tossing himself on his bed.
Unsure what to do with the word, Regulus tilted his head.
“They’re like those pipes father smokes,” Sirius clarified. “The Muggles make them.”
Muggles? When did Sirius have time to speak to Muggles?
Sirius rolled his eyes at Regulus’s furrowed brow. “There are muggleborns at Hogwarts, Reggie. You knew that. Some of them are my friends. They aren’t actually different from normal witches and wizards at all.” He brightened up at that, jumping off his bed to walk to Regulus’s elbow to point out one of the people in the photos. “James and I actually found this section in the Hogwarts library that…”
Regulus listened with half an ear as Sirius began to regale him with the merits of James Bloody Potter. Potter had become a favorite topic of Sirius’s whenever the subject of Hogwarts came up. Even when Regulus wanted to discuss classes or quidditch, Sirius inevitably found a way to work a story about Potter in.
Each story made a well of dread rise in his throat.
“…and that’s why they keep the front gates locked at night now!” His brother smirked at him, chest puffed with pride.
Regulus had no idea what he was talking about. Still, he nodded supportively, perched on the side of his brother’s desk while Sirius yanked his dress robes over his head and dumped them unceremoniously on the floor.
Hesitantly, Regulus waved for Sirius’s attention before gesturing to his own eyes.
“You won’t go blind,” Sirius reassured him immediately. “You haven’t ever done anything remotely Seer-like. You couldn’t even guess where I hid your stuffed owl last year, and I even gave you a hint.”
Regulus worried at his bottom lip.
He pointed to his mouth.
“That old harpy has to fix it soon. She has to. Grandfather’s a mean bastard but he told her to fix it or else. She has to. I bet she does it before our trip to Diagon Alley.”
Their journey to Diagon Alley would refresh Sirius’s school supplies and allow Regulus to fill the list that had arrived on July 1st. Their parents had looked satisfied by its delivery but it had been Sirius alone who had congratulated him.
A small pop announced Kreacher’s arrival with tidings of bedtime.
Regulus went quietly.
Notes:
Next time:
Walburga Black has a terrible gift for her son. At Diagon Alley, Regulus gets his very own wand and meets James Potter for the first time.
- villain
Chapter 2: Twins
Summary:
This time:
Walburga Black has a terrible gift for her son. At Diagon Alley, Regulus gets his very own wand and meets James Potter for the first time.
Chapter warning tags: child abuse.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Beta: TheDisreputableDog
August
Several mornings later, Regulus sat at the dining room table with his eyes trained on his plate.
Sirius was sleeping in, which was rare enough that Regulus had left him to it even though he hated being in their parents’ presence without him. The breakfast spread was designed with precision: fresh slices of watermelon, generous chunks of baked ham, and thick juicy sausage links.
And in front of his place, a fine china plate, atop which he had just been served a glass jar filled with rancid, green-tinged fluid.
The stench of it was nauseating.
“Good morning, Regulus,” Walburga greeted him calmly.
Regulus turned his head, grimacing.
It was just the two of them in the large dining room, which was never a good sign. Selfishly, he regretted leaving Sirius to have a lie-in. Aside from the obvious exception, his brother was the breakwater that kept the more overt acts of their mother’s madness away from him.
“Look at me when I’m speaking to you.”
Helpless, Regulus did.
“We will be discussing your debut into wixen society,” his mother continued, spreading preserves on a slice of toast. “I know you won’t make the same mistake as your brother. I wouldn't like to think what must be done if the both of you were sorted outside Slytherin.”
Ah, threats.
What excellent breakfast conversation.
He could only shake his head in answer, primly smoothing the cloth napkin on his lap.
“Drink up, then.”
Regulus’s entire body shuddered at the suggestion.
He shook his head again.
“How are we to have a conversation if you will not take your tongue back?”
Oh.
Oh no.
Summer flowers. A decorative jar filled with lightly glowing water. An ugly fish. Purplish-pink, fleshy–
His rotting tongue drifted to the liquid’s surface.
Regulus pushed his chair back using strength he barely had with a disgusted gag. But his sickly state for the last month had cost him and it costed him even more as his mother raised her wand.
“Imperio.”
Regulus had heard of this floating feeling; a false calm soothing his blood and coating his vessels.
“Drink up.”
In this fluffy, hazy space, nothing seemed wrong. The horrendous odor of dead flesh registered but there was an apathy in him that shut off any urge to get away from it. He picked up the jar in his trace-like state and saw bits of fetid gel drifting along the surface.
Stop.
He wanted to stop.
But he was eleven years old trying to fight a dragon and the dragon had teeth and claws and—
He drank it.
In that dreamy, distant state, the semi-solid chunks of congealing liquid didn’t bother him. Some of it went into his stomach, some of it went into his lungs, but he never coughed against it. Nothing concerned him as he mechanically swallowed mouthfuls of the potion and his mother spoke.
“I will reign you in by the hair and veins. By the muscles and tendons of you, Regulus Black. I will see you placed in Slytherin, associating with the right sort.”
The last of the swampy liquid slid down his throat, his old tongue finally tumbling from the bottom of the jar into his mouth. That floaty feeling blocked any disgust or fear of it, but Regulus felt the thing latch onto him with a sharp bite.
“Do not give me a reason to correct you again or I promise you will face nightmares made real.”
Suddenly, the artificial calm dropped.
Awareness.
Terror.
Revulsion.
Regulus retched violently over the table. Great heaving waves of nausea lurched through his stomach, bringing up streams of hazy white potion that he regurgitated onto the wood. He coughed between vomiting, trying to clear his lungs. Regulus lifted his fingers to his mouth, trembling, but couldn’t bring himself to touch the rotten thing that had re-settled itself there.
The very thought brought another wave of vomit forward.
Gasping for breath around it, Regulus staggered towards the door, fleeing for the stairs.
His mother did not follow.
Sirius.
SiriusSiriusSirius—
He coughed and fumbled for the doorknob when it was in front of him. He was shaking from head to toe now, shivering like a leaf in the warm summer late-morning.
Sirius was already dressed when Regulus tumbled inside, pausing with a comb in his hand. He dropped it, moving to Regulus’s side in an instant.
“What happened?” Sirius demanded, holding his brother’s shoulders gently to get a better look at him.
Regulus shook his head, refusing eye contact.
“Reggie? Kid, c’mon—hey? Please?” Sirius put his arms around him, holding on carefully with Regulus’s head tucked under his chin.
Regulus was sure for the rest of his life he would only ever feel safe in his brother’s arms.
“Did she do something?” Sirius’s voice rumbled above him.
Regulus’s shivering had nearly faded. To a nearly desperate degree, he didn’t want Sirius to go anywhere near their mother. Instead of telling the truth, he chose half of it.
Leaning back slightly so his brother could see, Regulus gestured to his throat, then made an upward motion.
“You threw up?” Sirius interpreted quietly.
Regulus nodded.
Sirius’s lips tightened. “And mother was a bloody bastard about it. Okay, I get it. Alright. Let’s not go down there just yet. Let’s go flying.”
Sirius was an excellent pretender. If Regulus didn’t know him so well, it would be easy to miss the simmering rage that clenched his jaw and curled his toes as they snuck down to the twin back doors.
Their ancestral home existed simultaneously in two different locations, each accessible through either the blue door or the white door.
Past the blue door was the least-used entrance which connected to the Muggle world. When the manor was first built hundreds of years ago, the building had stood alone in a secluded glade of English oak trees. The industrialization of London, however, had led to a high demand for housing, resulting in the Muggle neighborhood that had formed around it. Their mother loathed its proximity to such filth and refused to set foot on the neatly-paved sidewalks dotted with flower boxes and picturesque benches. The historic street, named Grimmauld Place, was quite the mystery for local Muggle historians, who could never find the reason for such an unusual name.
The white door, however, led to the sprawling green estate of its countryside counterpart which stood in contrast to the urban landscape, replacing car-lined streets with one long, paved carriage road lined with gas lamps and gently swaying trees. Grimmauld Place, when observed in its true form, was a splended manor made of riverstone, commissioned in the ninth century by Grimmauld the Great for his newly wed daughter, Deliverance Black. It was settled neatly in the splendor of Morgana Hill–one of five exclusively magical counties in England.
Quickly and quietly, Sirius ushered Regulus through to the dew-stained grounds and past the gardens overlooked by the large windows that Sirius had disappeared into with Isadora Fawley last month.
“We’re using real brooms,” Sirius informed him, stopping in front of the broom shed safely out of sight from the dining room windows. “Not your baby one.”
Regulus flushed at the tone.
Among the neat row of sports brooms were two children’s toy brooms. They only allowed the rider to hover with their toes brushing the ground and went at a slow pace. Sirius had thrown a fit about it when he was nine years old and their parents had gotten sick enough of it that they let him have his way and bought their son a brand new Cleansweep racing broom. Regulus, more cautious and less likely to make a fuss, had continued flying on his toy.
Sirius pulled his Cleansweep 9 from its hook and yanked a dustier Cleansweep 7 from another before frog-marching his brother back outside.
“Okay,” Sirius announced with authority, setting both brooms carefully on the ground parallel to one another. “So put your hand out over it, palm down–good, Reggie! You just put your hand over the air above it and say–” He stopped abruptly, perhaps remembering that his brother couldn’t speak.. “...Um, actually let’s skip that part.” Quickly, Sirius scooped up the 7 and pressed it into Regulus’s outstretched right hand. “Right. That’s really good, Reggie.”
Regulus tilted his head.
“Don’t rush me.” Sirius cleared his throat. “Okay, now you’ve got to get on. So put your leg over–exactly! And now you just sort of… lean. Okay? Just lean forward a bit.”
Regulus bit his lip, glancing up at his brother.
“It’s okay!” Sirius encouraged, picking up his own broom. “I’m right behind you.”
Determined, Regulus turned back to stare at his grip on the broom. He wasn’t a baby like his brother implied. He was going to Hogwarts too! In a month, even. He could do this.
He leaned forward.
Slowly, the broom drifted along.
“That’s great! Now try to go higher!”
Taking a breath, Regulus urged the broom carefully towards the tree line.
The grounds around Grimmauld Place spilled into the rest of Morgana Hill beyond the end of the carriage road at the front of the manor. Regulus could see Rosier Castle far in the distance and the faint sketch of Malfoy Manor even beyond that. It was only when the sheen of sunlight reflected off the small creek separating the Rosier’s estate from that of the Blacks that Regulus realized how high he’d flown.
He gasped softly, reflexively laying himself flat to his broom to cling on for dear life.
“Wow, you’re really good at this, Reggie!”
His brother drifted alongside him. His proximity made Regulus relax fractionally. Slowly, carefully, he resumed his seat, still holding tightly to the broom handle with his legs tied together under him.
“I can’t wait to try out for the Gryffindor quidditch team,” Sirius rambled, aimlessly turning this way and that, circling around Regulus. “I’ll be our beater and you be our seeker, okay?”
Regulus squinted at him.
“Because you've got eyes like a bloody cat and you're good at catching. Look, catch!” Sirius withdrew a small silver coin from his pocket, pitching it into the air.
Regulus lifted a hand tentatively to catch it, but not quickly enough. The coin sailed past him, falling what felt like miles down to the earth’s surface.
“...Okay, maybe you need to practice,” Sirius conceded generously. “But me, I’m going to be great! And we’ll be on the same team!”
A warm, curling feeling bloomed in his chest. It had been hard having Sirius away for a year, meeting new people and experiencing new things without him. It was nice to know he hadn’t forgotten about him entirely.
“Oh, and James!”
It was amazing how one name could make his stomach drop.
“I can’t wait for you to meet him! He’s going to be a chaser. And Remus and Peter! But they’re pants at quidditch. James will definitely be amazing though. Did you know that James did–”
Whatever James did was forever a mystery because the jealousy roaring in his ears made Regulus turn his broom sharply away from his brother. Shakily, he steered himself in a steep decline towards the ground as fast as he dared.
It was scary but thrilling. The air was bitingly cold as the grassy hill below rushed up to meet him. He had never felt anything like this with his toy broom.
This was… amazing.
His landing technique left something to be desired.
Regulus tumbled roughly to the ground, landing on his back, panting and grinning. He wanted to go again; fly higher, swoop to the ground only to pull back at the very last second.
He felt free.
“BLOODY HELL, REGULUS!”
Sirius landed directly next to him, hurling his prized broom away like it was trash and sinking to his knees in the soft soil. His face was pale, causing his iron eyes to stand out starkly. He fussed over Regulus, searching for injuries and demanding to know if he was hurt.
“What the fuck were you thinking!? I thought you were going to die!”
Shaking his head, Regulus tugged at Sirius’s sleeve to get his attention. He pressed both of his palms to his heart, still grinning broadly.
“...You’re okay?” Sirius verified, finally backing off.
Regulus nodded.
“Okay… Well… to be honest, that was bloody brilliant. The way you dove like that!?”
Suddenly, Sirius was mirroring his expression, eyes sparkling with elation. He tackled Regulus, who released a wordless exclamation of surprise, rolling them over and over until they were rolling down the grassy hill they’d landed on.
They lost momentum when the hill flattened out, detangling themselves from each other with laughter and grins. The two of them continued to lay there, flat on their backs, staring up at the blue sky for what felt like forever.
“I can’t wait for September. Gryffindor Tower is amazing, you’ll love it. It’s going to be like this every day.”
A nervousness burrowed deep into Regulus’s chest at Sirius’s certainty. Tentatively, Regulus tried to imagine it: sitting with Sirius in the common room he’d described in loving detail over and over again. Working on homework with faceless classmates that liked him and valued his opinions.
It was too good to be true.
Which meant there was no way he could hope for it.
The next morning, Regulus found himself standing quietly behind his brother in the awning shade of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Their mother had sniffed at the little girl beaming at her proud father as she was fitted for her new school robes next to Regulus, but had been distracted from saying something awful by Sirius, who loudly demanded that he be allowed to purchase the set of bright lilac dress robes hanging on a rack nearby. Regulus knew that Sirius hadn’t given a damn about the robes, but had launched the distraction to avoid inflicting their mother on the unsuspecting public.
After a full morning of school supply shopping, it seemed that she had finally had enough of them.
Or at least enough of Sirius.
“Entertain yourself until I return. I expect you to meet me at the entrance of Knockturn Alley in exactly one hour.” She sized Sirius up. “You do understand how long one hour is from now, do you not?”
“Yes, mother,” Sirius replied solemnly.
Disbelieving, their mother tapped the watch on Sirius’s wrist none too gently with her wand. It glowed briefly as a timer was set to it. “Control your little brother,” was all she said after that.
“That is a new dress, is it not, Walburga?” asked Lady Carrow, who had hailed them as soon as they’d stepped out of the clothing shop. The two witches had been making boring small talk for the past ten minutes and Sirius didn’t hesitate to bolt away with Regulus attached at his hip when he had the chance.
Their conversation faded as they got further away. “I saw that Adeline Attire only just came out with those lovely autumn colors….”
Regulus gripped on tightly to his brother’s robes as Sirius sprinted through the crowds to maximize their distance from the two women. The alley was slightly less busy than the year previous and there was a very slight tension to it that Regulus couldn’t understand. All he knew for sure was that he and Sirius were the only children being allowed out of sight from their parents and there were more scarlet-robed aurors about than there had been when they’d come to fill Sirius’s first year list last summer.
They darted past tiny pots of floo powder (Just Enough for a Quick Trip!), hand-painted decks of tarot cards (The Future and You!), and a tall stack of books with a dark lake printed on their covers (Conquer Your Oddly Specific Fear of Large Bodies of Water!) until they reached a less crowded portion of the alley.
“We lost them!” Sirius panted, hands on his knees and grinning.
Regulus, equally breathless, gestured incredulously back the way they’d come.
“They were definitely chasing us!” Sirius insisted, linking arms with his brother and dragging him forward that way. “Didn’t you see mother flying over the crowd like a bat? ARRRHHHH!”
Regulus laughed, covering his mouth with his hand as Sirius raised his arms straight up over his head, impersonating a giant bat with an obnoxious shriek.
“They’ll be busy for a while, which means we can do this—” Sirius gestured to the shop behind him with a flourishing bow, “—all by ourselves!”
The storefront was old in a regal sort of way with twin bay windows flanking the front door. Rods of different woods and painted depictions of magical creatures were carefully arranged past the display glass. Over the building’s facade read Ollivander’s: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C.
Blinking, Regulus looked to his brother in surprise.
“We’re getting you a wand of course!” Sirius answered his unspoken question, pulling the door open.
Regulus stared at him.
“Because I hate that bloody shrew, that’s why. Are you going in or what?”
Their mother had already assigned him a Black family heirloom wand: acacia with dragon heartstring, 11.5 inches; unyielding and suited to dark magic. It had belonged to Sirius’s namesake: Sirius Black the First. Regulus’s brother, Sirius Black the Third, had nearly blown up the house with how violently the wand had rejected him over a year ago. That and every subsequent family wand their mother had shoved into Sirius’s hand had reacted negatively to him, forcing their parents to bring Sirius to this shop for his own unique one.
The acacia wand liked Regulus well enough. It was steady in his hand when their mother first gave it to him, dropping the room temperature precipitously and forming fine frost on the window panes.
She had liked that.
Sirius, apparently, had not.
The interior of the wand shop was dusty and every sound made within it came out vaguely muffled. Their footsteps leading up to the drafting table and the sound of the bell ringing as Sirius pressed on it repeatedly all seemed slightly far away.
“Just the once will do, Mr. Black.”
The brothers jumped.
It was as though Regulus had blinked and the man before him had appeared, poised on the other side of the desk. Tall, thin, and long-faced, Garrick Ollivander looked exactly like he did when the Blacks had taken Sirius to retrieve his wand here a year prior.
“Regulus Black,” Ollivander murmured, learning closer.
Wide-eyed, Regulus stared back.
Their shocking silver eyes were the same.
“Hm… And Sirius Black, of course,” he redirected his attention to Sirius, who grinned. “Cypress wood with an augurey tail feather, exactly 13 inches. More rigid than not, and quite favorable for trickster magic, is it not?”
Sirius laughed, delighted. “Yes! That’s it exactly!”
“Then I suppose you’ve come for the younger Mr. Black’s wand. Though it is most unusual that your parents have not accompanied you to do so.”
Sirius just smiled expectantly.
“Hm. Well, let’s measure you up, young man. Which is your wand arm?”
Sirius paced excitedly as the wandmaker selected candidates based on his findings, peering closely as Ollivander handed over the first one.
“Ashwood with unicorn hair. 11.5 inches, swishy. Best for potioneers.”
“You’re good at potions theory,” Sirius commented helpfully in the background. “That’s a good one, Reggie.”
Regulus gripped the handle and flicked.
Instantly, the corner of the desk began to smoke.
Ollivander put it out, unconcerned. He accepted the wand back in exchange for another of blackthorn and dragon heartstring, 11.6 inches, flexible, and apparently suited to charm work.
“Just swish it,” Sirius coached when Regulus hesitated. He pulled out his own wand in demonstration. “Just–”
Abruptly, Ollivander snatched back the wand from Regulus’s hand with a twitter of intrigue.
“Oh wouldn’t that be something?” he muttered to himself, frantically rearranging boxes just a few steps away. A box just as nondescript as all the others was selected and the wand within was quickly shoved into Regulus’s grip.
“Swish it,” Sirius repeated encouragingly.
Regulus did.
A flare of dark green color emitted from the wand’s point and the most heady sensation began to settle in his veins. It felt like nothing was real in the most invigorating way. Everything around him was in flux.
He felt powerful.
Regulus breathed the feeling in as though he might not ever breathe again, the warmth of it soaking into his soul. Without prompting, he flicked the wand in front of him.
Three identical desks appeared, each a perfect replica of the original with the same quills, parchment, and new scorch marks in the exact same arrangement on their surface.
“That’s pretty cool, Reggie!” Sirius complimented him, reaching out to touch the nearest one. His hand went right through the desk, revealing it to be merely a trick of light.
“Cypress with an augurey crown feather,” Ollivander recited triumphantly. “Exactly 13 inches. Very particular, but loyal. Suited for illusionary magic and games of deception.”
“That’s like mine!”
“Yes.” Ollivander’s eyes glinted. “Twin wands. Extraordinary. Cores from the same augurey bird and wood from the same cypress tree. The difference lies in the feather: from the crown and from the tail. The beginning and end.”
Twins.
His brother fumbled to draw his wand, leaning close to hold it out next to the one in Regulus’s hand. They were both an attractive shade of dark amber and seemed identical. Curious, Regulus prodded them together.
Nothing happened.
Sirius paid for the wand with a handful of coins smuggled into his robes and dragged Regulus back out into the sunlight.
“Okay, you need to hide this,” Sirius instructed, glancing at his watch. “Mother can’t find it. She’ll snap it in half.”
Regulus clutched the box containing his new wand tightly to his chest.
“You’ll be fine when we get to Hogwarts. No one will care which wand you’re using there.”
They drifted down the alley until they reached Quality Quidditch Supplies. Sirius maintained a steady stream of commentary as they meandered down the road, noting interesting-looking people they passed and occasionally daring Regulus to eat a newt eye from the potioneers’ shop or hop over the owl droppings positioned under the post office’s perches. Regulus rolled his eyes in refusal at each insane proposal, his usual fistful of Sirius’s robes in-hand as they proceeded.
“See that in the window, Reggie?” Sirius pressed his face against the glass. “It’s the Cleansweep 10! I bet you I could get it for Yule!”
“OI, BLACK!”
The brothers both turned at the summons.
A boy with messy raven hair and hazel eyes set behind round glasses was pelting towards them. He didn’t slow when he got close, instead tackling Sirius, who staggered delightedly. Regulus looked on with vague horror at the ruckus they made, standing well back from the scene as James Potter and his brother tussled.
“James! What the hell? I thought you already did your shopping!”
“I had to come back,” Potter insisted, finally shoving Sirius away, grinning. “Spilled ignition potion all over my charms book! Went up in flames, just like that. Fhum!” He gestured dramatically, pantomiming fire.
It was during this flourishing wave that he spotted Regulus.
“Oh!” Potter looked more thrilled still at the sight of him. “Oh!”
“James—“ Sirius took a few short steps to hook Regulus by the arm and drag him forward like an offering. “This is—“
“—Reggie!” James finished for him, his eyes darting over every inch of him. He looked incredibly excited. “Obviously! You only talked about him every day at school!”
Pleased by this piece of information but irritated by this boy’s use of his nickname, Regulus glared at his brother when he failed to correct Potter. Sirius’s lip twitched under his ire.
“Exactly. Reggie.”
His glare sharpened.
“Hi Effie! Monty!” Sirius added, looking over Regulus’s shoulder.
Two people with a clear resemblance to Potter were just joining them. The witch—her dark hair streaked liberally with white—smiled softly at her son, and the wizard—hazel-eyed behind gold glasses—clapped a hand on Sirius’s shoulder.
“Well, well! Look what the kneazle dragged in!”
Sirius scoffed playfully at that. “Kneazle? It’d take at least a hippogriff now. I’m a growing boy!”
“We can see that.” Potter’s mother reached out to smooth his hair. “You and James are really just coming up like weeds.”
“Like trees,” Potter butted in. “Like oaks!”
“Mighty oaks!” Sirius added.
“Majestic oaks!”
“Powerful oaks!”
“Okay,” Potter’s mother laughed, dropping her hand. Her gaze moved to Regulus, who froze, still in his brother’s hold. Adults focusing on him usually wasn’t a good thing. “Oh Sirius, who’s this?” she cooed.
“It’s his brother!” Potter shouted immediately, hopping forward.
“Lovely,” Lady Potter smiled at him. “What’s your name, darling?”
Nervously, Regulus backed slightly into Sirius, who graciously introduced him. “His name is Regulus. He’s my little brother.”
The two adults didn’t move to touch him, perhaps noticing his shyness.
“It’s very nice to meet you, dear,” Lady Potter said gently.
“Very!” Lord Potter echoed. “We’ve heard so much about you already!”
Regulus tilted his head, slightly confused about when Sirius would have had the opportunity to tell Potter’s parents about him—never mind get so familiar with them.
Sirius hastily changed the subject. “What are you lot up to now, anyway?”
“Ice cream run,” Potter explained quickly. “You promised,” he added to his parents, who exchanged looks.
There it was—that strange tension that seemed to run in currents through the alley. It was the sort of wariness that made muggle parents pull their children close and stood in contrast to Walburga Black’s confidence in sending her pureblood sons off to roam the shopping center.
“I don’t know that we should stay that long,” Lady Potter hedged.
In an uncanny impression of Sirius when he was gearing up to throw a tantrum because he wanted this candy or that toy, Potter looked positively indignant. “But you promised!”
Lord Potter folded quickly under his son’s pout. “Oh, I suppose so.”
Lady Potter, too, seemed unable to hold her own against her son. Reaching over to smooth Potter’s hair with motherly affection, she tutted. “Oh very well. Would you boys care to join us?”
Regulus looked at his brother unhappily. Eating ice cream with the Potters was arguably the last thing he wanted to do, even if he could—which he physically could not.
How did Sirius expect him to do this!?
Sirius hesitated under Regulus’s pleading gaze. He was clearly pulled between spending time with his best friend and protecting his little brother.
“Well…”
“You know, I don’t really fancy an ice cream,” Lady Potter said unexpectedly.
Regulus looked up at her suspiciously. Who didn’t want ice cream?
She smiled down at him. “Maybe Regulus and I can just watch you boys.”
Sirius turned a begging face onto him. “What do you reckon, Reggie?”
Guilt churned his stomach. There was nothing Sirius wouldn’t do for him and Regulus only had these small scraps to offer in return. How could he refuse?
Regulus nodded reluctantly.
Potter cheered loudly. “Bloody brilliant!”
“James! Language!”
“Sorry.”
Notes:
Next time:
The Black brothers spend a little time with the Potters. Later on, Sirius sits Regulus down for an important conversation.
- villain
Chapter 3: Children Talking
Summary:
This time:
The Black brothers spend a little time with the Potters. Later on, Sirius sits Regulus down for an important conversation.
Chapter warning tags: child abuse.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Beta: TheDisreputableDog
The group began shifting down the alley towards Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour.
“So what have you boys been up to?” Lady Potter asked him.
Regulus bit his lip nervously, glancing over at Sirius. His brother may have gotten his way, but thankfully he wasn’t oblivious to Regulus’s discomfort.
“We fetched all our school supplies,” Sirius answered for him, jiggling the bag in his hand. It was filled with shrunken textbooks, a caldron, their new robes, and Sirius’s miscellaneous whims that he’d thrown a tantrum over until their mother had bought them. “And Reggie got his wand!”
Regulus nodded supportively.
“Well, that’s lovely! A long morning, then?”
“Yes,” Sirius intercepted again, subconsciously pulling his little brother slightly behind him in order to take the brunt of the questions himself. “Did you guys only get the one book?”
Lady Potter eyed the defensive movement contemplatively. “…No, though we probably should have. We have a cat at home that James insisted needed new treats.”
Regulus leaned forward around Sirius’s shielding with interest.
“He loves cats,” Sirius explained. “Especially black cats.”
“What a coincidence! She is a black cat! You have excellent taste!”
Regulus smiled shyly. Plucking at his brother’s sleeve, he gave Sirius an imploring look.
“What’s your cat’s name?” Sirius asked obediently.
“Morgana. She’ll be sixteen this year.”
Sirius gasped. “Your cat’s older than us!”
Lady Potter laughed. “That’s right! Do you two have any pets?”
Unprompted this time, Sirius opened his mouth, probably to say that they wouldn’t inflict their parents on an unsuspecting animal, when he suddenly jerked away, hissing. Regulus and Lady Potter both looked at him in alarm, but Regulus alone understood as Sirius gripped his watch-clad wrist.
It was the reminder their mother had set going off.
“Ah, we’ve got to go.”
“Go?!” Ahead of them, Potter stopped conversing with his father abruptly. “You just got here!”
But Sirius was already holding Regulus’s hand, tugging him away. “We have to go meet mother. We’re going to be late. Sorry!”
Potter was either very dramatic or genuinely devastated by this news. Regulus remembered Sirius telling him once that Potter was an only child, which, for all the love and attention of his parents, sounded incredibly lonely. Regulus couldn’t imagine a world where Sirius wasn’t his brother. As bad as things always seemed to get, there was no question that Sirius would be beside him their entire lives.
Stumbling, Regulus waved hesitantly with his free hand.
Potter’s eyes lit up at the gesture, shelving his disappointment. “Bye Reggie!” he yelled, waving madly back. “I’ll see you on the train! Bye Sirius!”
“Bye!” his brother yelled over his shoulder, already focused on navigating the crowds. Sirius tugged him closer as a mob of giggling teenage girls spilled out of the beauty shop on their right, holding his hand tighter. “You know, I think James likes you even more than he likes me!”
Despite his reservations about the boy, Regulus smiled hesitantly.
They arrived at the meeting location two minutes before the appointed hour. Mother, with her nonexistent faith in Sirius, had set their reminder ten minutes early, allowing them to navigate to the Knockturn Alley entrance with time to spare. Regulus was just stuffing his new wand’s box more deeply into the pocket of his cloak under Sirius’s instruction when their mother emerged from the nearby high tea shop with Lady Carrow gone, replaced by Mrs. Macmillan. Mrs. Macmillan was their Grandmother Melania’s sister and, as soon as she and mother entered earshot, she called out in her reedy voice.
“Well, if it isn’t Sirius Black!”
Sirius groaned under his breath. “Great. The old bat is here.”
Regulus glanced at him quickly. Mrs. Macmillan was older than the dirt they stood on but usually tolerable compared to their other relatives. She also rarely acknowledged Regulus’s existence, which he honestly preferred to the blunt questions she usually put to Sirius.
“Hello, Mrs. Macmillan,” Sirius said boredly.
Their mother fixed him with a warning stare.
“...How are you this morning?” Sirius finally offered.
“Look at you!” The decrepit witch either didn’t hear him or had decided to ignore Sirius in favor of whatever she had decided would be their topic of conversation. “So handsome!” Regulus held in a breathless laugh as she reached up from her slumped height to pinch his older brother’s cheeks. “The boys and girls will be all over you in a minute!”
“Considering the betrothal dinners happening every other night at our manor, good luck to them getting in edgewise.”
Fortunately, Mrs. Macmillan found such a statement delightful instead of insolent. She chuckled at him. “Of course, of course. And–yes, you have a brother, don’t you?” She adjusted her spectacles carefully as her attention suddenly switched over.
Regulus was careful to smile pleasantly, hoping against hope that she would stick to her usual dismissal of him.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t to be.
“He’s a pretty one,” Mrs. Macmillan praised, reaching out to push his chin this way and that. “But thin, too thin. Ha! Looks like he might keel over at any minute, if you ask me! Not like this heir of yours–that Sirius Black is as healthy as a horse!”
Humiliated, Regulus braced himself to continue standing there with flushed cheeks, powerless, as Mrs. Macmillan finished her assessment under their mother’s watchful eye.
He should have known that Sirius would never let that stand.
“Good thing no one bloody asked you, you corpse.”
For a moment, everyone froze.
Regulus’s eyes widened as he stared at Sirius, who was busy glaring openly at the elderly witch.
The sharp crack of a Stinging Hex made Sirius groan as their mother landed it on his right cheek, dangerously close to his eye. It was frightening how hostile she looked in that moment, wand out and eyes practically spitting sparks.
“Apologize. Now.”
“She started it!”
“Not you.” She pointed one perfectly manicured finger at Regulus. “You.”
Regulus’s lips parted in surprise.
Beside him, Sirius made a loud scoffing noise to draw attention back to himself. Despite their mother’s demand, he tried for it anyway. “I’m sorry.”
“Hm.” Mrs. Macmillan sniffed. “I suppose I shouldn’t have been so… forthright. It was quite crass of me. I apologize, young man,” she said to Regulus, who nodded without meeting her eye.
Their mother, however, refused to let it go. “I don’t tolerate insolence in my household. Regulus Black, apologize.”
“He didn’t do anything!” Sirius protested, alarmed.
“Yes, Walburga, darling. It’s all water under the bridge now.”
“SPEAK!”
There were moments like this when the Black family madness seemed to spike so suddenly and harshly that their mother scarcely cared about what her original objective had been. All that mattered in those times was inflicting her will on another person–usually her children.
You really are the worst of our madness, their grandfather had told Walburga contemptuously. A shrew and a harpy.
“You know he can’t!” Sirius snapped. If looks could kill, Regulus knew that a lot of their problems would be over now.
“He had a cold–” Merlin, their mother would try to rewrite history to bloody Bathilda Bagshot herself! “—and now he’s over and done with it, so he will speak when he is spoken to.”
He couldn’t.
Regulus just couldn’t.
Mrs. Macmillan was looking uncomfortable now. “Walburga–”
Even with his tongue back in his mouth, it felt heavy and foreign. He almost didn’t even want it there; it didn’t feel like it even belonged to him anymore.
Then, as quickly as their mother’s whim had come, the madness that drove it receded once more. It was one of the more dangerous features of their mother’s temper: the sudden swings of it this way and that, making it impossible to predict what might set her off.
Disinterested all at once, their mother drew her shawl further up on her shoulders. “How lovely seeing you, Helena,” she said in a normal tone, “but we really must be going now.”
“Yes… yes, I suppose you’d best. Have a good year at school, young men.”
Regulus dreaded what was awaiting them at home.
He was right to do so.
“IS THERE ANYTHING YOU CAN DO RIGHT?”
It had started out as a war of silence, the three of them. Sirius and their mother had ignored each other as Kreacher served lunch while Regulus wished with all his might that this meal was already over. Their father wasn’t home, not that it mattered, and he was aware that it was only a matter of time before his mother or brother set the other off.
Regulus hadn’t expected it to be himself when he made to set his water glass back down and accidentally ended up tipping it over to spill across the tablecloth.
“MERLIN, SPEAK YOU USELESS BOY!”
Regulus shook his head frantically, staring at the floor.
“YOU HAVE YOUR TONGUE BACK, SO YOU HAD BEST START USING IT, REGULUS BLACK!”
“STOP YELLING AT HIM!” Sirius had finally had enough, slamming his fist onto the table. “NO WONDER EVERYONE THINKS YOU’RE CRAZY!”
That earned a whole string of Stinging Hexes that Sirius had no choice but to take. If there was one thing Walburga Black hated, it was being called that word.
Crazy.
Her face twisted the way it always did when someone suggested even delicately that she might be blowing things out of proportion or acting out of step with the situation. Regulus privately thought she reacted so viscerally because, on some level, she knew the Black family madness was closing in on her and she didn’t like it.
“GET OUT! GET OUT!”
They did.
“She acts like we wanted to be around her in the first place!” Sirius exclaimed, slamming the door open to his room. He dragged Regulus in with him before shutting and locking the door with a simple spell that they both knew their mother could break in an instant if she wanted to. But it added another obstacle between them and her, which was only ever a good thing.
“Sit.”
Regulus sat nervously on the edge of his brother’s bed.
“So. She put your tongue back.”
It wasn’t a question. Regulus refused to meet Sirius’s eye. He nodded minutely.
“Come on,” Sirius coaxed. “Let me see.”
Regulus didn’t want to.
“I know, but I need to make sure you’re going to be okay.”
Regulus shook his head.
“Please, kid. You’re breaking my heart here.”
Ugh. He could never do anything but obey when Sirius called him that.
Raising his eyes to his brother, Regulus hesitantly parted his teeth. It was scary. The urge to bite down and protect his mouth was strong, but this was Sirius, who would never hurt him. Sirius continued to coax him until his jaw yawned wide.
Lighting his wand, Sirius peered inside, careful not to touch. “Okay. It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”
As Sirius drew back, Regulus yanked on his sleeve imploringly.
“Oh, right. Hold on—“ His brother groped around his nightstand, unearthing a small rectangular pocket mirror. When Regulus tried to snatch it, Sirius held it out of reach. “It’s going to be okay, okay? Just… remember that.”
Anxiously, Regulus accepted the little mirror. Bracing himself, he opened his mouth once more and steeled himself to look for the first time.
The last time he had dared look at what had been done to him, his entire mouth had felt like a gaping wound. The stump of his tongue had repulsed him and he could only think about how it had felt to drown in his own blood. Now, a thick band of raised dark-red scar tissue necklaced the very back of his tongue, indicating where it had been cut and replaced. He had felt the ridge against the roof of his mouth ever since his mother had cursed him into swallowing that potion, but seeing it made him feel shaky. At least the muscle itself had reverted back to living pink tissue instead of that dead gray lump it had been in that jar.
“No one can even see it,” Sirius assured him quickly.
That was true. It was only really visible when you were looking directly at the back of his throat.
“So… can you say something?”
Regulus tensed.
“Can you say your name?”
Regulus closed his eyes.
“…Can you say my name? Just try. It’ll be okay.”
The memory of their mother cursing and insulting him as he dribbled food from his mouth and choked on liquids made him bite his lip. Sirius didn’t push any further, however—he waited with a patience that he only ever displayed with Regulus as the younger boy took a deep breath.
“T—Th—Thiriuth.”
Horror swept through him.
“Thiriuhs. Thiriuth!”
Sirius hushed him, pulling him into his arms. “That was great! It really was, kid, and it’s going to get better. We just need to practice. You’ll see.”
Regulus would not cry.
He wouldn’t.
But his shoulders did shake as he huddled into the safety of his brother’s chest.
September
When their mother and father parted from them at Platform 9 ¾, they said very little. Regulus imagined there was very little left to say–
–by the hair and veins. By the muscles and tendons of you, Regulus Black–
–because Regulus’s instructions had already been made abundantly clear to him and Sirius had been threatened to excess that morning before their father had gripped his arm to disapparate to the train station.
Regulus felt like he could finally breathe when the twin pops announced their parents’ departure. Beside him, Sirius let out a long, loud sigh of relief.
“Merlin, I can't wait till I’m seventeen.”
“...Me too,” Regulus enunciated carefully when Sirius looked over for a response.
The past month had been exhausting. Sirius had him reading books out loud from sunrise to sunset to force him to reestablish his ability to speak clearly. No matter what they were doing or where they went in the house, Regulus was reciting Babbitty Rabbitty from The Tales of Beedle the Bard or Hogwarts: A History with the section describing how students were sorted ripped out.
“It’s tradition not to know!” Sirius had insisted, balling up the page and tossing it carelessly into the fireplace where it curled quickly to ash.
As always, Sirius had been incredibly patient with him, if demanding. When Regulus stumbled over a word, Sirius would order him to start the paragraph over until it came out smoothly. Regulus still didn’t speak much to other people and preferred to let Sirius do the talking whenever he could get away with it, but he could speak if he wanted to.
He just didn’t want to.
“Let’s go find James and the lads!” Sirius grinned, moving towards the nearest door to board the train.
Holding onto his sleeve, Regulus followed closely.
The station was so noisy. Families were saying goodbye, cats were yawling in their cages, and every now and again a great hiss filled the air as steam billowed out of the top of the train. Only when a voice hailed them from the crowd did the brothers pause.
Regulus gripped Sirius’s robes all the tighter as his brother’s best friend skidded to a stop right in front of them.
“That’s so cute,” Potter cooed, his eyes on Regulus’s fist full of robes.
Sirius immediately pushed Regulus’s hand away, flushing red. “Bugger off, James.”
“No, really,” Potter insisted. His gaze was earnest behind round glasses. “I think that’s sweet.”
Embarrassed by his brother’s rejection, Regulus just scowled up at him, crossing his arms over his chest.
“We’ve a compartment towards the middle,” Potter addressed Sirius, pointing at the train. “I’m going to say bye to mum and dad.”
With that, he was gone.
“C’mon, kid,” Sirius muttered, still slightly red-faced.
Regulus followed him onboard, peering all around at the carriages they passed until Sirius stopped abruptly.
“Okay,” his brother said bracingly, facing him squarely. “Remember what we talked about—you’ve got to stop doing that.”
Regulus blinked down at the fistful of Sirius’s robes he’d retaken at some point on their journey down the train.
He dropped it.
“Okay,” Sirius started over, reaching for Regulus’s generic Hogwarts tie to straighten it. “You can do this. You look great, Reggie. Just remember to look people in the eye. And you have to talk,” he added.
Regulus nodded.
“Out loud,” Sirius insisted.
“Yes, Sirius.”
“Don’t forget that. I don’t want you to be the weird kid that avoids everyone and everyone avoids them. It’ll be okay though. You’ll make Gryffindor and everyone there is really nice.”
Regulus gulped.
“Right!” His brother surveyed him critically before grinning. “Let’s go!”
Instead of knocking or announcing himself in any way at all, Sirius flung the compartment door open so hard that it opened fully, bounced off the back of its track, and slammed shut in his face.
“I can’t believe you closed the door on me,” Sirius complained after trying again.
The two boys inside laughed at him.
One was sandy-haired, brown-eyed, and clearly tall despite sitting. He had a book in his lap that Regulus recognized from his history tutors and smiled at the Black brothers as one and then the other stepped in.
Twirling a wand in his hand, the second boy rolled his ocean-blue eyes under a fringe of straw-colored hair. “Is anything ever your fault?”
“Not if I can find someone else to blame.” Regulus found himself suddenly pushed forward. “Mates, this is Regulus. He’s my little brother and he’s really cool!”
The boy with the book nodded. “Hello Regulus. I’m Remus Lupin.”
“I’m Peter Pettigew,” The boy toying with his wand grinned at him. “Blimey but you look alike!”
Regulus thought of informing him that siblings tended to when the compartment door slammed open again, rattling the window in its frame.
“You break it, you bought it, Potter!” a girl’s voice in the corridor snapped before it shut.
“What does that even mean?” Potter complained to the room at large. “Why would I need to buy a door?”
“It’s a Muggle phrase,” Lupin explained.
“Really?” Potter wondered, delighted. “Have you ever heard of that before, Reggie?”
“No,” Sirius spoke for him. “Our parents aren’t exactly known for their muggle expressions. Here, sit here.”
Sirius herded Regulus towards the window seat opposite Lupin, who continued to smile at him.
“Excited to start Hogwarts, then?”
“Better to be in classes than be at home,” Sirius answered for him. “Mother’s gone mad. We’ll see if the manor is still standing come Yule.”
“I don’t mind the classes as much as I mind the homework.” Pettigrew grimaced, finally putting his wand away. “Which will be your favorite subject, do you think? Sirius never shuts up about how brilliant you are, so you’ll have no problems.”
Regulus bit his lip, pleased. Meanwhile, Sirius interjected once again.
“He’s is brilliant! Worlds better than—“
“I wonder,” Lupin cut in loudly, “if we’ll get to hear Regulus speak at some point without you interrupting him.”
Regulus blinked, surprised. No one had ever objected to his brother speaking for him before. He had gotten quite used to it the last month in particular when he had been physically unable to. It was just easier letting Sirius be his spokesperson in general.
It helped to avoid this. ‘This’ being four sets of eyes staring at him expectantly.
Unnerved, Regulus looked to Sirius for guidance.
His brother nodded. “Go on, kid.”
Ugh.
“…I enjoy potions theory the most so far,” Regulus told them quietly, focusing hard on speaking each word clearly. He glanced at Sirius who willed him to continue.
Don’t forget to make eye contact! a voice suspiciously similar to his brother’s reminded him.
Regulus looked Pettigrew in the eye. “Thank you for asking. Do you have a favorite subject yourself?”
“Ever the polite one!” Potter leaned forward, shouldering Sirius. “Which rubbish bin did we fish you out of?”
Sirius shoved him hard enough to send Potter sprawling on the floor. Reaching up, he gripped Sirius’s leg and wrenched him down with him.
“Herbology,” Pettigrew answered Regulus, unfazed by the impromptu wrestling match breaking out at his feet. “Handy for potioneers! And Professor Sprout is fantastic. She does a lot of special projects for St. Mungo’s.”
They continued this for a while—Sirius and Potter making nuisances of themselves while Regulus, Lupin, and Pettigrew made small talk. He was reluctantly grateful, actually, to get in a bit of practice before he was expected to interact with his year mates.
The train pulled into Hogsmeade station shortly after sunset. From there, Sirius steered him towards a large man with a small collection of first years huddled in front of him.
“Remember, think Gryffindor thoughts,” Sirius advised, shoving him gently forward. “Also, fingers out of the water on the boat ride over. There’s a man-eating giant squid in that lake, you know.”
“No there isn’t,” Regulus muttered, jittery with nerves. “You’re making that up.”
Sirius gasped. “Are you calling me a liar?”
“You are a liar.”
“Firs’ years this way! C’mon now!”
The large man began leading his flock of first years down a curving path. His lantern bobbed in the darkness as he puttered away.
“Well, hands to yourself just in case!”
There was a long, awkward pause after that. There were so many things Regulus wanted to say; to ask.
There isn’t really a man-eating giant squid, right?
What if my trunk doesn’t make it to the castle?
How do they decide which house you’re going to?
Will you be angry if I don’t make Gryffindor?
But Regulus couldn’t manage any of it. In a rare moment of initiating physical contact, Regulus took a step closer and carefully put his arms around his brother. Feeling Sirius’s tense shoulders unlock fractionally, he closed his eyes, burying his face into the Gryffindor robes as Sirius returned the embrace tightly.
“It’s going to be okay, kid.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know everything,” Sirius insisted.
Regulus laughed nervously.
He let go. “I’d better follow them.”
“Hey.”
Regulus turned back around at Sirius’s prompting.
“It’s a hat.”
With that, his older brother began striding away to where his three friends were waiting patiently.
Blinking, Regulus stared after him. “What’s a hat?”
“It’s a hat!” Sirius repeated over his shoulder, not acknowledging his incredulous look.
His brother was daft.
“Oi!”
Regulus’s attention was torn from this revelation when a boy his age with straw hair and blue eyes made his way out of the thicket of upper years to stand next to him. He was dressed in the same generic uniform that called him out as a first year.
“Do you know where we’re meant to go? Had a bastard of a time getting through that mob.”
Look him in the eye and talk, Sirius’s voice insisted.
“Yes,” Regulus replied. “It’s just down that trail. I’m catching up.”
“Right. Let’s bring up the rear then.”
Notes:
Next time:
The sorting commences, and the Sorting Hat has an unexpected suggestion.
- villain
Chapter 4: The Sorting
Summary:
This time:
The sorting commences, and the Sorting Hat has an unexpected suggestion.
Chapter warning tags: eating disorder.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Beta: TheDisreputableDog
The winding little dirt trail opened up into a beautiful clearing at the edge of a lake which reflected the stunning lights of Hogwarts Castle. Half of the other students had already boarded boats, and Regulus and his new companion chose one occupied by two girls who were giggling to each other, leaning over the boat’s side to brush their hands into the dark water below.
“I heard there’s a man-eating giant squid in there,” the blond boy that Regulus had arrived with said casually.
Regulus’s lip twitched. “I’ve heard that too.”
The girls quickly straightened up, snatching their hands back in alarm.
The boats simultaneously pushed themselves from their places half-moored in the sand to begin their journey through the water. A few children shrieked at the sudden movement, descending into nervous laughter after a moment. They made a beeline through a curtain of long, willowy ivy that parted to reveal a grotto where the boats ahead of them were already pulling in. Making their way up the stone staircase in the back, a stern-looking witch met them at the top.
“But how do they decide where you go?” the blond boy asked Regulus in an undertone as Professor McGonagall began to explain the four houses. “Why doesn’t anyone explain that?”
“A hat,” Regulus said, unthinking.
“A what? How?”
Regulus looked at him from the corner of his eye. “...I actually have no idea.”
For a second, they stared at each other. Then, simultaneously, they tittered nervously, looking away.
When the professor led them into the castle’s great hall, Regulus couldn’t help but wish Sirius was behind him. There was rarely anywhere Regulus went that Sirius couldn’t follow, but this was one of those times. His gaze skittered down the long tables filled with students staring at him until a madly waving hand at the table nearest the wall on his right caught his gaze.
It was James Potter, who gave him a double thumbs up when he was sure he had Regulus’s attention. Beside him, Sirius looked about as anxious as he felt, sending a shaky smile that Regulus couldn’t bring himself to return.
“The hat!” the blond boy whispered to him, nodding towards the front of the room.
Regulus, shorter than everyone except some of the girls, tried to catch a glimpse of it. Through a gap between two taller boys’ shoulders, he could see a three-legged stool boasting a very rumpled, old hat that startled him by opening its seam and beginning to sing.
“We just… put it on, then,” the boy continued under the racket. “That’s not too bad.”
“I don’t want that thing rooting around in my head,” a new voice joined the conversation.
Looking up, Regulus found that he knew this boy. Evan Rosier lived on the estate next door to his in Morgana Hill and they occasionally played together when Sirius would tolerate it. Like most children he knew, Rosier had no siblings. Single births were very common in pureblood families and, despite every effort of the couple, producing multiple children was considered the exception, not the rule.
“What do you mean ‘rooting around?’”
“Well, it has to look through your mind, doesn’t it, Crouch? To see where it’s going to put you?”
‘Crouch’ looked alarmed by the concept.
“Aaron, Bertram.”
“Bloody last name,” a boy directly at Rosier’s elbow muttered, trudging slowly up to the dais.
“Poor sod. Probably called first his entire life…”
Regulus tuned Crouch out, concentrating hard so as not to embarrass himself when it would quickly become his turn to be sorted. As far as he could tell, it was a fairly straightforward process: you sit on the stool, you have the hat placed on your head, there’s a few seconds of unnerving silence, and then–
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
Regulus gulped.
“Bagman, Otto.”
“ALRIGHT THEN, OTTO!?” a boy with the same round cheeks heckled him from his place among a group of thirteen year olds at the Gryffindor table.
“Ludo Bagman, be silent.”
Among widespread tittering, Otto sat down on the stool with the long-suffered look of all younger siblings, disappearing under the brim of the hat.
This sorting took a bit longer than the first, but ultimately ended with another boy sent off to join the Hufflepuffs.
“ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, GOOD SHOW ANYWAY–”
“MR. BAGMAN, DETENTION!”
And then, it was his turn.
“Black, Regulus.”
Taking a steadying breath, the boy began to move forward.
“Good luck, Black.”
“Yeah, see you on the other side.”
Turning on his heel, Regulus wanted to close his eyes against the vast room staring up at him. He avoided looking at the Gryffindor table this time, unable to stomach meeting Sirius’s eye at this juncture. He noticed the bright blonde hair of his favorite cousin, Narcissa, leaning slightly towards him from her place among the thirteen year olds at the Slytherin table. She gave him a small, encouraging smile that helped Regulus release the breath he was holding as the sorting hat engulfed his head.
Abruptly, the low echoes of the room cut off.
Well, Regulus Black. It seems we have work to do.
Regulus gripped the edge of the stool in surprise at the voice. It wasn’t whispering into his ear like he’d assumed; it was speaking directly into his mind.
Work? he repeated.
Yes. A terrible history, I see. A will to survive, certainly, and a fierceness that brews within you. Gryffindor is too brash and you seek out knowledge for its use, not the sake of it. Ravenclaw wouldn’t have that.
Regulus thought back to the day he’d found his wand. Wands were a reflection of the individual who wielded them, after all. It was considered deeply personal information, what its wood or core might be.
Loyal, Ollivander had called him. An illusionist; a deceiver.
Traits of two dangerous houses, the sorting hat agreed. There is indeed a loyalty in you that would see the enemies of your loved ones destroyed. This quality would resonate in a house whose members would also drown in their own blood to preserve their brotherhood.
Slytherin? Regulus guessed.
Hufflepuff, in fact.
Regulus thought the hat must be joking. He had thought Ravenclaw, maybe, but certainly not that.
The justice that a Hufflepuff might extract is perhaps of a kind that you would appreciate.
(—by the hair
and veins
and the muscles
and tendons of you—)
She’ll kill me, Regulus thought with dread. This will be the thing that kills me, if you put me there. Please.
Unfortunately, I think that’s true. It cannot be risked. But always remember what could have been even as you start your journey in–
“SLYTHERIN!”
He’d heard it, he’d expected it, but when the hat was pulled off his head, Regulus still felt as though he’d pulled off a great triumph as he took the first first year seat at the applauding Slytherin table, his back to the wall in order to face the rest of the hall. Several seats up, Narcissa was sure to make her approval known, clapping harder than any of them.
At least one member of his family was supportive, because when he finally steeled himself to look over at where he knew Sirius to be sitting, he saw his brother staring intently—unblinkingly—at Remus Lupin across from him.
Sirius would have to acknowledge him eventually, surely, but as Crouch, Bartemius Jr. was called up next and Sirius continued ignoring him, Regulus had to admit it wasn’t looking good.
He has to look at me. He can’t punish me for this. He can’t–
The blond boy from before—Crouch—dropped onto the bench across from him, completely blocking Regulus’s view of his brother. He looked… not unhappy, but tense for sure.
Gradually, the Slytherin ranks began to fill. The only names Regulus really registered were those of his neighbor, Rosier, who came to sit as his side, and a Flint girl, to whom he was distantly related but had never met.
When the last name had been called, the tall, thin figure of Albus Dumbledore rose slowly at the head table.
“Welcome, students, to our new year here at Hogwarts.” He paused. “Myself and your esteemed professors are most eager to fill your minds with knowledge in these halls that have fostered learning for nearly one thousand years before today. But, that is a wish for the morning. Let us eat together, drink together, and embrace our school community.”
There were delighted gasps from around the room as the welcome feast appeared before them. It was truly a beautifully designed tabletop that Kreacher himself would be proud of. All up and down the table were platters of glazed hams, stacks of fluffy biscuits, saucières of thick gravy, and plates and bushels and caches of more, more, more. The smell alone was enough to make Regulus’s mouth water and stomach growl—thankfully inaudible over the outbreak of chatter gracing the hall now.
“So it took you two a minute to be placed here,” Rosier noted, nodding to Regulus and Crouch. “Was it a close call?”
“I had the option of Ravenclaw,” Regulus lied smoothly. Saying the word Hufflepuff would make him an instant laughing stock, despite the hat’s argument for it.
“A smart one, thank Merlin.” A girl he didn’t know nodded at him from her place next to Crouch. “Dorcas Meadowes. Pleasure.”
The boys nodded back at her, pausing for introductions.
Crouch still looked tense, serving himself potatoes. “Father was dead set on Ravenclaw for me, so I had to try for it. No use keeping that a secret—I’m expecting a howler in the morning, so you lot had best bring earplugs to breakfast.” He raised his glass of pumpkin juice in a toast before drinking deeply.
Regulus grimaced sympathetically. When Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor, their mother had sent a howler, too.
Regulus had listened to her recording it from behind the study door at two in the morning after cousin Bellatrix’s owl had thrown a noisy fit to deliver a letter announcing Sirius’s sorting into Gryffindor. Determined not to let that be the first thing Sirius heard on his first morning of classes in front of all his schoolmates, Regulus had rushed to their small owlery with fistfuls of parchment and a quill between his teeth.
There were three owls that belonged to their family: father’s great horned owl that he used for business, mother’s tawny owl that delivered her social letters, and a barn owl for guests. If Regulus were to keep all three occupied until the late morning, he still wouldn’t be able to stop their mother’s horrid rant, but he could prevent the brunt of Sirius’s humiliation, having to hear it echoing through the great hall and be tainted by the knowledge that everyone in the entire school had heard it too.
With the great horned owl, he had sent Narcissa a short letter congratulating her on starting her third year. He rambled briefly about being excited to join her next year, asked a few questions about her class schedule, and requested that she write when convenient.
The barn owl had carried a letter to Sirius. There was so much that Regulus wanted to say, but if mother intended to ruin Sirius’s day, she would try to make the morning post. That meant sending off her howler as soon as possible, and Regulus didn’t want to risk running into her as he sabotaged her plan. Quickly, Regulus told his brother that he was brave and strong and so Gryffindor made sense, didn’t it?
At the end, he had warned Sirius that mother was sending a howler but he, Regulus, had done everything in his power to ensure it would arrive at dinner time instead of breakfast to give Sirius time to prepare. If Sirius skipped the great hall to go somewhere outside, away from people during the dinner hour to receive it, his classmates would never have to know. He signed it hastily, digging through his pockets to unearth a chocolate frog to include as well.
When the two owls had gone and were guaranteed not to return until at least eight hours later, Regulus had faced his last adversary.
His mother’s owl, Hera, had not gone to Hogwarts. If mother assumed Hera was out hunting, she would wait to send the howler so it would explode during the final meal of the day in front of everyone to maximize Sirius’s humiliation. However, if Regulus made Hera unavailable for too long, he knew mother would opt to wait for tomorrow’s breakfast instead, leaving Regulus with, at best, two exhausted owls and no way to contact Sirius to warn him. Hera’s errand had to be the perfect length of time and Regulus knew just who to send her to.
Regulus hadn’t been sure that it really mattered what he put in the note he sent to Uncle Alfred. His mother’s brother had his home warded against anything to do with Walburga Black, as he had loudly proclaimed two Yules ago at Black Castle after all the adults were well into their drink. There was a very real chance that the wards would not allow Hera to deliver the letter and she would return it unopened to him in a few hours. Still, after jotting down the address, Regulus knew that he had to at least try to give Sirius a backup plan if the worst came to pass.
Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor, Regulus had written for want of anything else to say. I don’t know if she will disown him, but she is livid. Don’t write back.
He had signed it with his initials: RAB.
“Hey, Black?”
Regulus was pulled from his thoughts by Crouch calling his name.
“Yes?”
“Are you going to get around to eating something? The chicken’s quite good.”
And it did look good. The tender chicken breast was floating in a thick cream sauce with sweet apple pieces and smelled like heaven. All at once, Regulus was starving for it.
But…
Disgusting, sloven boor! his mother would shriek every time particles sprayed over the pressed linen tablecloth.
The only thing worse than not eating the beautiful meal in front of him would be humiliating himself by coughing and sputtering, trying to get it down. It had been weeks since he’d had need of a straw or struggled to swallow solids, but the possibility of it haunted him, overpowering even his hunger.
He just couldn’t do it.
“I ate too much chocolate on the train,” he lied. He hadn’t eaten a thing on the train. “I’ll take a bit, but I’m not very hungry.”
The other children accepted that easily as Regulus put a tiny portion of mashed potatoes on his plate to push around.
“Where did you end up on the train?” Rosier asked conversationally, sipping his water. “I figured we’d sit together but didn’t see you.”
“I sat with Sirius.”
At that, Meadowes leaned forward. “I heard your brother went to Gryffindor last year. The pureblood circles made it sound so scandalous, but he looks happy there.”
Regulus chanced a glance back at where his brother was sitting. His earlier tension seemed completely forgotten and he was laughing easily with his friends, still ignoring Regulus’s existence.
“…Yes, he’s happy there.”
The group of four moved on from tense topics to more pleasant ones.
He really did enjoy Evan Rosier’s company and was pleased to make friends with him away from Sirius’s impatient insistence that it was time to return home now. He was clever and sarcastic, but listened carefully and steered around topics that seemed to make others uncomfortable.
Barty Crouch Jr was bright and outrageous, startling a laugh out of Regulus more than once. Each time, the blond boy looked so pleased to have done so that Regulus couldn’t help but be flattered. Usually it was Sirius’s approval and attention that people vied for, not his.
He wasn’t sure how to interact with Dorcas Meadowes at first. Regulus had to admit he had never really spoken with a girl his age apart from his cousins and wasn’t sure what to expect. The girls brought around for Sirius’s betrothal dinners hardly counted since he couldn’t actually speak. After a few minutes of watching intently as the two other boys held a conversation with her, Regulus decided that making friends with girls was really no different than making friends with boys, and nodded at all the right places while listening to Meadowes's stories, earning him a smile.
By the time dinner concluded, the small group had agreed that they had reached first name basis. Regulus glanced back at the Gryffindors as the house prefects herded his new friends towards the dungeons, but was quite literally yanked out of his thoughts when Barty grabbed his sleeve and towed him out of the great hall.
“We’d better memorize this route for tomorrow,” Dorcas muttered to the boys. “These prefects don’t look fond of repeating themselves.”
“No,” Regulus agreed.
The entrance to the common room was hidden behind a blank stretch of wall that looked entirely unremarkable.
“If you look carefully, towards the ceiling you can see a little carving of a snake,” the female prefect pointed out helpfully. “Primrose,” she added.
The password triggered the stone wall to flicker hazily in and out of existence, exposing an archway leading to a regal room that wouldn’t have been out of place at Black Castle. The tasteful furniture was done in cool shades of green and blue, elegantly complementing the intricate rug thrown over the stone floor.
“Is that Slughorn?” Dorcas whispered in his ear.
Regulus frowned, looking at the middle aged man calling the students to order from the front of the room. ‘Slughorn’ was cheery and potbellied with an unctuous air to him that reminded Regulus of some of his parents’ business associates. He definitely didn’t trust that. “He certainly looks the part, doesn’t he?”
She snickered.
“Now, first years! Welcome to Slytherin house here at Hogwarts. My name is Professor Horus Slughorn, but I believe many of you know that already!” He chuckled. “I’m so eager to get to know you all and learn your talents…“
Regulus’s stomach cramped with hunger as the professor spoke. He thought longingly of the chicken dish with cream sauce and flaky pastries filled with jam. If he hadn’t been so concerned about it looking strange, he would have filled a napkin with food to eat in the safety of his bed. But apparently one of the side effects of having friends was that they watched every move you made. Regulus was used to being overlooked and wasn’t sure what to make of people who weren't Sirius paying attention to what he did or didn’t eat.
“Finally! I’m exhausted,” Barty groaned as Slughorn dismissed them to their dorms. “See you in the morning, Dorcas.”
“See you,” the witch echoed, nodding to the group before scuttling off with the other girls to seek out their belongings.
Slytherin had recruited heavily in the girls’ favor for their year. When they reached their room on the first landing of the boys’ staircase, Regulus and his new friends were pleased to find that the three of them were to share a room alone. Aside from briefly celebrating their new headquarters, there wasn’t much discussion as the boys readied for bed, taking turns in the attached bathroom.
When Regulus’s head touched his pillow, even his gnawing hunger couldn’t keep him from passing out.
That night, Regulus had a strange dream.
He was standing on the rocky shores of a dark lake surrounded on all sides by glittering black rock. The water was perfectly, impossibly still and the silence in the air was… unnatural.
The only light source was a faint green glow emanating from the center of the lake and for reasons Regulus couldn’t understand, it called to him.
He took a step towards it.
Then another.
Each crunch of the rock shards underfoot echoed loudly, as though he was standing deep within a cave. The crunch turned to a slosh as he waded into the dark water, eyes fixed on the horizon.
The water was so cold. Regulus couldn’t stand it; thought his shins would fall off from the iciness of it. Terror gripped him as a dawning realization that he should not be here made him lurch to a stop with water up to his waist.
His breath hitched.
Something slimy had touched his knee.
A pale shadow drifted lazily around him under the water, occasionally coming near enough to touch but mostly keeping a slight distance. It’s circle became gradually tighter, and tighter until—
Regulus awoke with a start, breathing fast.
Notes:
Next time:
Sirius finally confronts Regulus over his sorting and Regulus turns out to be amazingly gifted at potions.
-
A dark, dark lake in a dark, dark cave.
- villain
Chapter 5: The Fasting
Summary:
This time:
Sirius finally confronts Regulus over his sorting and Regulus turns out to be amazingly gifted at potions.
Chapter warning tags: eating disorder.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Beta: TheDisreputableDog
By the time he had awoken fully, Regulus couldn’t remember what the dream had been about. All he knew for sure was that it had been cold and frightening and his heart was still hammering from whatever nightmare his mind had conjured up.
Evan nodded at him from his place perched by one of the room’s seven windows. Since their dorm was located under the lake, each window had the potential to give a false view of hundreds of different famous locations. Evan had chosen Morgana Hill, where both their homes were located. He must have been feeling a bit homesick.
In the bathroom, Regulus drank deeply from his cupped hands. The water went down easily and filled his empty stomach, soothing some of the cramping. When Regulus had finished showering and brushing his teeth, he returned to wake up Barty, who glared sleepily at him for doing so.
After a few false starts—Barty forgot his tie, then Evan forgot his cloak—the first year boys marched down to the common room where Dorcas was already waiting.
She was alone, which made Regulus frown.
“Where are your dorm mates?” Evan asked. “They didn’t ask you to go to breakfast with them?”
Dorcas looked away, shrugging. Regulus sensed that she didn’t want to talk about it and walked next to her in companionable silence as Barty began to explain exactly how much bacon he would be eating in just a few short minutes.
“They had made friends with each other already,” Dorcas told him suddenly in an undertone. Regulus tilted his head towards her. “My dorm mates,” she clarified, embarrassed. “They knew each other from before Hogwarts. They’re in the same play group.”
“They sound like hard people to get to know.”
“They were disappointed that it wasn’t just them in the room. Like I was intruding.”
Regulus didn’t know what to say to that. Uncertainly, he leaned slightly over to brush shoulders with Dorcas in solidarity. It seemed to work because she smiled at him, bumping into him in return.
At breakfast, there was still no resolution to Regulus’s problem. He couldn’t bring himself to eat or drink anything in front of his new friends and he was starting to feel the consequences as Slughorn began coming around to pass out class schedules.
“Uh oh,” Barty muttered, squinting up at the owls pouring in through the mail delivery window.
Regulus looked up from pushing scrambled eggs around his plate, wondering wildly if he’d somehow been sent a howler despite his sorting.
There was no howler, but a solemn-looking gray owl did land neatly in front of Barty, statue-still as it waited for him to untie the letter from its leg.
“What?” Evan asked.
“It’s my father’s owl,” Barty replied grimly, staring the bird down.
“It’s not a howler,” Dorcas offered bracingly, reaching over to free the owl when it became clear that Barty wouldn’t. “You can throw it in the fire if you want.”
Barty just stabbed a sausage with his fork as the owl smoothly took flight again. He maintained this for a few minutes before finally grunting and picking up the letter. A smaller piece of paper fell out, which Barty ignored for the moment.
“Well no prizes for guessing the theme of this rag.” Barty crumpled the parchment in a wad, shoving it into his book bag. “‘The perception of the public is important, Bartemius.’ ‘Slytherin house gives the wrong impression, Bartemius—‘“
“Does he really say ‘Bartemius’ that often?” Regulus drawled.
Barty snorted, his bad mood briefly broken. “My mum sent a note, too,” he said more quietly, picking up the second paper from the table. He didn’t offer any further information and the other children were good enough not to inquire.
After waiting politely for his companions to finish eating, Regulus was just getting ready to ask if they were ready to leave when his mother’s tawny owl, Hera, drifted overhead to aim a neatly addressed letter at Regulus’s lap without touching down.
“Looks like my father isn’t the only one with spies here,” Barty commented.
Regulus didn’t answer and pointedly avoided looking towards the seventh year section of the Slytherin table. It took no talent to guess who had owled his mother with his sorting results. His cousin Bellatrix had never hesitated to go behind someone else’s back just because she could. He shoved the letter into his bag, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.
“I’m ready to leave.”
Barty leapt to his feet. “Me too!”
When Evan and Dorcas agreed that breakfast was no longer in the cards, Regulus carefully wrapped three muffins in a napkin and tucked them into his bag for later as the group trudged out of the hall. Regulus couldn’t stop himself from finding Sirius at the Gryffindor table with his eyes.
His brother was tight-lipped and looked blatantly irritated by the letter he was reading. Regulus wondered if Hera had made a second stop on her way out.
“Does anyone actually know where the transfiguration classroom is?” Regulus asked doubtfully as soon as they’d left the great hall.
Dorcas and Barty, who had been walking with purpose towards the staircase, looked at each other.
“Dorcas knows,” Barty told Dorcas.
“What!? I was following you!”
“Why? I don’t know where it is.”
They began to squabble in earnest, leaving Evan and Regulus to look at each other.
“I hope you’re ready for us to be the brains of this operation for the next seven years,” Evan told him.
“I hope so too.”
They eventually spotted one of the prefects from last night exiting the great hall with a group of third year girls, including Narcissa. Regulus hadn’t been able to speak to her yet and tentatively called her name.
Narcissa’s perpetually cool expression warmed when she saw who hailed her. He had to admit, it was nice to have at least one family member look happy to see him.
“Hello, Reggie,” she said when she got close enough.
“Hello, Cissy—“ A few of the Gryffindor upper years walking behind his cousin snickered. Regulus flushed. “Sorry, Narcissa—“
“You have always and will always call me Cissy,” Narcissa corrected him, flicking her wand and sending a blue wave of light at the upper years without breaking eye contact. The little gaggle tripped over themselves, all three students crashing to the floor. “What can I do for you?”
Can you make Sirius like me again? he thought wryly.
But though Narcissa was very good and understood better than anyone the trials of being a youngest Black sibling, even he knew that Sirius could not be hexed into better behavior.
“Can you tell us where the transfiguration classroom is?”
Narcissa agreed immediately, sending the group of sycophantic girls trailing after her off to their next lesson, arithmancy, without her. Barty, Evan, and Dorcas tactfully spoke amongst themselves as Narcissa led them in the correct direction, giving the cousins semi-privacy to talk.
“Congratulations on making Slytherin.”
“If only everyone was feeling that way,” Regulus sulked.
“Is Sirius being difficult, then?”
“Does he know how to be any other way?”
Narcissa hummed. “Let me talk to him.”
Regulus grimaced. “It’s okay, I can fix it myself.”
“There’s nothing for you to fix,” his cousin reminded him. “Trick stair, darling,” she added, throwing an arm out to stop Regulus from taking the next step. “Watch me.”
Regulus watched her daintily skip a step that looked completely identical to all the others. He almost asked if she was joking, but Narcissa wasn’t known for her humor. He copied her, holding onto the handrail due to his small stature, but made it up without issue.
“Well, what am I supposed to do? Are we just never going to speak again?” He couldn’t never speak to Sirius again. He didn’t even know what that would look like.
“You’re going to wait for me to talk to him is what you’re going to do.”
Regulus groaned. “Cissy, no.”
She hushed him as they arrived outside a classroom door where the Hufflepuffs and the rest of the Slytherin first years were funneling in. Barty promised to save him a seat as his three friends vanished into the room too. Mirroring Sirius on the train, Narcissa fussed briefly over him, straightening his robes and smartening up his hair.
“Sirius will come around,” Narcissa decided, tugging his tie into place from where it had skewed. “He’s just emotionally stunted. And stubborn.”
Despite himself, Regulus wanted to believe her. “Do you really think that?”
“Of course. He’s just throwing a fit because he wants things a certain way and he can’t have it.” She gave him a little push towards his class. “Go on. Pay attention in class, no messing about.”
Following orders, Regulus nodded at her and retreated into the transfiguration classroom.
As Barty had promised, he had saved Regulus the seat beside him. It was conveniently four to a table so he settled in to be sandwiched between Barty and Dorcas, Evan choosing the girl’s other side.
“Alright?” Barty asked casually when he began pulling out his textbook.
Regulus nodded, looking up at the front of the room with interest. A beautiful tabby cat was perched on the professor’s desk, blinking slowly at them all with large amber eyes.
“Do you think that’s McGonagall’s familiar?” Regulus asked enviously.
“You like cats?” Dorcas asked.
“Yes, but I’m not allowed one.”
“Go pet it,” Barty suggested, nodding to the front of the room.
Regulus wanted to; he really did. “No,” he decided reluctantly. “It’s not my cat.”
A similar discussion was going on on the other side of the room with their Hufflepuff classmates, apparently, because the boy who had been sorted just before Regulus stood determinedly under the urging of his mates.
“Give it the cat treat, Otto!”
“You can do it, mate!”
The Slytherins watched his progress as Otto Bagman took slow, hesitant steps towards the front of the classroom, his eyes darting every which way for a sign that he might get in trouble. The cat watched him near with unblinking eyes as he approached with a nugget of dried fish treat in his boyish hand. When he was a scant two feet away, the cat suddenly jumped past him, causing Bagman to let out a shriek of alarm even before registering the transformation of the cat into their sharp-eyed transfiguration professor.
“Good morning to you, students,” Professor McGonagall greeted them with a pleasant Scottish brogue. “And a thank you for your kind offering, Mr. Bagman, though you understand I must decline.”
Bagman turned bright red in response, hustling back to his snicking friends. He punched the boy who had shouted the loudest encouragement in the upper arm, receiving a punch back in turn.
“Now if we could all open our textbooks to chapter one…”
“I can’t believe you tried to get Regulus to pet the professor!” Dorcas gasped with laughter as soon as the lesson had ended and they’d gotten far enough from the transfiguration room. “Merlin, I can’t breathe!”
“Can you imagine McGonagall’s face if he did?” Barty cackled, slinging an arm around Dorcas’s shoulders. “She’d give you a Troll grade no matter what you did the rest of the year!”
Regulus opened his mouth to declare that Bagman looked like he planned to avoid eye contact with the professor for the rest of his life when a tall, lanky boy with oily black hair purposely knocked into him, jabbing their shoulder together. Regulus hissed as the boy’s bony shoulder blade stabbed into him.
His book bag went tumbling to the floor, sending school supplies spilling across the stone and the three muffins rolling away into the crowd of students flooding the hall.
The boy immediately vanished into the crowd, and by the time the last uniform hem had swept out of view, the muffins were smashed on the ground, utterly inconsumable.
“Bastard!” Barty yelled after him. They all bent over to help Regulus pick up his things. “What was that guy’s problem!?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never seen him before.” They straightened up, filling the bag with the supplies they’d collected. “Thank you.”
“Well, he had better watch out,” Barty grumbled, grabbing Regulus by the elbow to steer him towards the staircase. “The second I figure out how to hex someone, I’m hexing that bloody bastard!”
Fortunately for the unnamed boy, charms class did not cover hexing bloody bastards, but rather, levitating a feather. Barty couldn’t pull that off either, so their new enemy’s continued survival was looking pretty good by the time the first year Slytherins began their journey to the great hall for lunch.
“You can’t just be good at everything,” Barty protested to Regulus, who had succeeded in his attempt within the first five minutes, hitching his bag higher. “You’ve got to leave something for the rest of us.”
“Speak for yourself.” Dorcas sidled up to Regulus from his left. “Evan and I did just great with our feathers, didn’t we Evan?”
“You were levitating that Gryffindor girl’s feather! It wasn’t even yours! That doesn’t even count!”
“Yes it does—“
“Hey there, Reggie.”
Regulus tensed.
At his flank, his friends tensed with him.
It was Sirius.
Well, it was actually Sirius and his little gang of friends, who stood uncomfortably off to the side, watching the drama play out. Regulus had been dreading this confrontation and it was clear that he hadn’t been exaggerating a single bit.
“Well, I guess we all knew Gryffindor wouldn’t be good enough for you.” Sirius laughed, but it sounded mean-spirited. “Oh well. How’s the snake pit? Did mother send you a nice love letter for getting into the right house?”
Don’t forget, you have to talk, that Sirius-like voice inside his head reminded him. Out loud.
“I got a letter too,” Sirius continued before Regulus could pull himself together enough to speak up. “Though I imagine it had a very different tone to yours.”
Now.
Sirius got angry with him sometimes.
Rarely, but sometimes.
Almost every time, it went something like this: Sirius would screw something up and their parents would retaliate by showering Regulus with praise and gifts. It had been awhile since that particular tactic had worked, but apparently it still did, because Sirius was fuming.
“I didn’t say anything to her,” Regulus finally forced out.
“You know what? I don’t care about it. Any of it. All I want to know is one thing. Did you even ask for the hat to put you in Gryffindor?”
Sirius clearly thought the question was simple.
It was not.
Regulus thought back to the Imperius Curse.
To choking down his own rotten tongue.
To hair and veins and muscle and tendons.
And to threats of nightmares made real.
There was no question.
“No. I didn’t.”
Sirius let out a bitter little laugh. “No, you didn’t. Of course you didn’t. You never ask for anything and you never say anything! You know what, Regulus? Fine! You’re a shit little brother, but fine!”
“Oh fuck off!”
Unexpectedly, Regulus felt Barty step up beside him. His heart trembled in his chest as the words hit home over and over again:
You’re a shit little brother, you’re a shit little brother, you’re a—
Sirius made an irritated sound in the back of his throat. “Who the bloody hell are you?”
“I’m his friend,” Barty declared boldly. “And he doesn’t have to listen to you, so we’re leaving.”
“He’ll leave when I say he can! He’s my little brother!”
“But a shit one, right?” Barty grinned like a shark. “That’s what you said.”
Regulus grabbed a handful of Barty’s robes and tugged slightly. “Let’s just go, Barty, c’mon.”
He glanced over at his brother and found him to have a very peculiar look on his face. Sirius’s eyes were locked on the place where Regulus’s hand tangled in his friend’s robes. He wore a stormy expression that made no sense and continued not to as Sirius shot a Stinging Hex at Barty’s shoulder.
“Fuck you!” Barty gasped, clutching the place where the hex had hit.
Sirius moved to hex him again when Regulus suddenly materialized between them, forcing Sirius to either redirect the spell or risk hitting Regulus.
The beam of light ricocheted off the stone wall as Sirius cursed. “Bloody hell! Don’t do that, Reggie!”
“Oh I’m sorry, did you want me to stand aside so you could hex my friends?” Regulus glared at his brother. In general, he rarely became angry; certainly he was never empowered to show it. His parents punished any expression of Regulus’s dissent, but he was angry with Sirius now.
“Your friend is a tosser!”
“No, you are Sirius! Just leave us alone!”
Pulling Barty with him, Regulus stormed off in the direction of the great hall, leaving his brother to glare daggers after him.
“Sirius! What the hell was that!?” he heard Potter saying as he left.
That just made him more pissy.
By the end of lunch, Regulus still hadn’t managed to eat anything. The stress of his encounter with Sirius only made things worse. He’d drunk handfuls of water from the bathroom tap between lessons when he was certain no one was around to see him do anything so undignified, but it wasn’t enough. He knew from experience that he couldn’t keep this up.
He was starting to panic.
“Stew, Regulus?” Dorcas offered, trying to hand the serving bowl to him.
Regulus shook his head.
“Roll?” Evan asked, not waiting for an answer before putting it on Regulus’s plate.
“A better attitude?” Barty offered mockingly, putting up his empty palm. “No?”
Regulus couldn’t help but crack a reluctant smile. “No.”
“Your brother’s a nightmare,” Dorcas decided, taking a bite of her sandwich. “No, really. What’s his problem? Isn’t your entire family in Slytherin?”
“Yes, but he thinks our entire family is the worst, so.”
“Are they the worst?”
“Not all of them,” Regulus muttered, thinking of Narcissa.
“Well I think he’s the worst,” Barty announced as though his was the deciding vote. “So there.”
They all laughed.
Their next class was potions, which Regulus was really looking forward to. He sat a modest distance from the front with Barty while Evan and Dorcas paired up right behind them.
“Slughorn teaches this one,” Dorcas informed them, Regulus and Barty turning fully around to discuss the subject. “I heard he collects really impressive students and invites them to his special social club.”
“Sounds miserable,” Evan noted.
“My father went to those parties,” Barty said, making a face. “He and Sluggy are friends, which is crazy because they’re both completely unlikable people.”
“Maybe the two of them together makes one likable person.”
“No,” Barty assured them. “They’re just gits.”
“Hello, hello first years!” Slughorn boomed from the front of the room. Barty and Regulus turned facing forward once more. “Settle down now! Has everyone set up their cauldrons? Good, good! Let’s take attendance…”
Slughorn cleared his throat, looking carefully down at his roster. Immediately, his face lit up. “Regulus Black! Wonderful, wonderful! You know, I was hoping to get your brother too—the set, you know—but no matter. You’ll go far, lad! I taught your parents, of course. Gifted people, very gifted.”
Regulus, who had always been told by his brother that the only impressive thing about their parents was that they hadn’t managed to kill each other yet, just smiled politely. “Here, sir.”
“Crouch, Bartemius Jr.! Oh, delightful! I know your father very well. Such a good man. You come from the right stock! I bet you hope to be even half the wizard he is!”
“Here, sir,” Barty got out through gritted teeth. “I’m going to drown myself in this caldron,” he added in a whisper to Regulus, who rolled his eyes.
“Me first.”
The roll call continued on like that, with Slughorn pausing occasionally to comment gleefully on specific students’ relatives while conspicuously brushing past names without indirect acclaim. He has very little to say about Evan, and even less about Dorcas. Both their friends looked irritated at being passed over—they were Slytherins after all—but got over it in short order as the potions professor began to explain the objective for the day.
“Shrinking Solution!” Slughorn declared, demonstrating by taking a small vial of completed potion and drizzling it on a grapefruit sitting on his desk. It slowly shrunk to the size of a kumquat. “An excellent potion to begin our studies together! Please pair up with the person seated next to you and kindly view the instructions I’ve jotted down on the board here.”
“‘I bet you hope to be even half the wizard he is,’” Barty mocked in a poor imitation of Slughorn as Regulus turned to the corresponding page in their textbook. “I hope one of the ingredients in this potion is stomach acid because I’m going to vomit.”
“Yeah, that was rough to watch,” Evan agreed, pulling nettles from his beginner potion kit for Dorcas to measure with her scales. “Still, it’s a relief to know I’m making friends with the right stock.”
“And with a lad that’s going far,” Dorcas said with a straight face, crushing the nettles.
“I hate you both.”
Evan and Dorcas shrugged in synchrony.
They were about halfway through the lesson when Regulus stopped Barty from turning the fire under their caldron off.
“That’s what the instructions say,” Barty insisted, pointing them out. “I’m not an idiot, you know. I can read.”
But Regulus insisted. “Put it at a simmer for about two minutes before turning it all the way off. It’ll keep the belladonna petals from wilting, which they will if the temperature drops too fast.”
Barty looked skeptical but shrugged. “You’re the almost-Ravenclaw here.” He decreased the flames to a simmer, then two minutes later, turned the fire off altogether. They were rewarded with a fragrant lavender scent rising from their pale pink brew: the ideal shade according to their textbook.
A quarter of an hour later, Regulus stopped him again, this time from chopping dragon pods as the book said.
“Crush it with the side of your knife. It’ll release the juices better.”
Bolstered by their previous success going off-script, Barty did as he was bid. He laid his potions knife flat on the pod and pressed down, releasing a shocking amount of brownish fluid considering how small it was. Barty scraped it all into the caldron, turning the liquid inside a shining silver.
“You should all be close to the completion of your potions,” Slughorn called from the center of the room. “If your potion is anywhere from light pink to light gray, you’re very close! Ideally we’re looking for an iridescent silver color, but that may be a… bit much to ask for today.” He peered into one of the Gryffindors’ caldrons and came away coughing. “Oh dear, Ms. Wood, wherever did we go wrong?”
“What next?” Barty asked gleefully, watching Wood blush as Slughorn explained the difference between a grain and a dram of flobberworm mucus. “This is brilliant. I love potions.”
“Nothing’s next. We’re done.”
“Done?” Dorcas echoed from behind them. Half-standing, she compared their perfect silver potion to hers and Evan’s still quite good off-white one. “How’d you do that?”
“Talent, Meadowes,” Barty smirked as though he’d had anything to do with it. “And skill.”
“Indeed!”
Slughorn had arrived during Barty’s reply, gazing down at their caldron. He looked delighted. “Oh very good! I should have known you’d inherited your father’s steady hand, Mr. Crouch!”
“You should have known!” Barty crowed.
“And Mr. Black, you know, your brother is rather gifted in this area as well. Taught you all his tricks, eh? Shame that he lacks the focus to truly commit to it.”
Regulus hummed noncommittally to that. It figured that his potions skills would be attributed to his brother rather than his sincere interest in the subject. He usually didn’t let this sort of thing bother him, but it felt different when it happened at Hogwarts than it did at home. At Hogwarts, he was supposed to be his own person. Not entirely—he was still destined to be Sirius’s right hand—but at least enough for his talents to be acknowledged, surely.
“Bottle your potions, ladies and gentlemen! I’d like a sample on my desk with both your names written neatly, please. No chicken scratch!”
“I think ours looks very good,” Evan decided, ladling a sample into the glass vial provided.
“It does, doesn’t it?” Dorcas agreed, labeling it.
“Better than Wood and Ashford.”
All four of them looked over at the Gryffindor side of the room. Cornelia Wood and Forest Ashford were trying to pry chunks of their tarry black potion free from the bottom of their caldron to stuff into their glass vial.
“You couldn’t pay me to put my name on that,” Barty laughed, writing his and Regulus’s down.
“I bet yours would look exactly like it without Regulus.”
“Yes, but he’s smart enough to make sure we’ll never know, so cheers!”
Notes:
Next time:
The Black brothers finally talk and it turns out Sirius is actually pretty great at making sure Regulus is okay. Severus Snape steps into Regulus’s life, and not in a good way.
-
Sirius cannot believe he isn't getting his way. Surprisingly main character energy, considering the tags on this story...
- villain
Chapter 6: Confrontational
Summary:
This time:
The Black brothers finally talk and it turns out Sirius is actually pretty great at making sure Regulus is okay. Severus Snape steps into Regulus’s life, and not in a good way.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Beta: TheDisreputableDog
When the lesson had finished, the four of them filed out of the potions classroom, Regulus leading the way slowly towards the great hall for an early dinner. They managed to maintain an upbeat continuation of their conversation about Slughorn’s blatant bootlicking nearly the entire way there. As they emerged from the dungeons, however, Regulus was surprised to see Sirius leaning against a nearby wall in the entrance hall, one leg tucked behind him and his arms crossed over his chest.
He was alone.
Waiting.
Regulus wasn’t proud to admit that his first instinct was to rush to Sirius’s side and beg for things to be okay again. He’d missed his brother like a severed limb in just the twenty-four hours since the sorting and wasn’t used to Sirius being upset with him; not for this long. Rightly or wrongly, he was accustomed to a certain level of attention and doting from Sirius and hated that he’d somehow found himself adrift at Hogwarts without his brother to hold on to.
You promised it was going to be okay! he wanted to scream. We were supposed to get away from our parents together! We’re supposed to be happy here!
Regulus could feel his mood turning sour at the thought. His three companions thankfully realized that he was in no mood for a confrontation, and gamely followed his lead as he simply strode past his brother.
“Oi! Reggie! Leave off those idiots and c’mere!”
“Leave me alone!” he snapped, hurt making his temper fray. And that was the other thing, wasn’t it? He didn’t mind Sirius pushing him around, but going after his friends who had only wanted to defend him had just been spiteful.
What had the world come to if Regulus needed defending from Sirius ?
“What’s got you so pissy?”
“You!”
Regulus refused further conversation by entering the great hall and marching to sit with the other first years at the very front of their house table.
Repelled by all things Slytherin, Sirius did not follow.
He stewed in his thoughts for the entirety of dinner. His friends followed up briefly on his “bloody miserable scowl” (Barty) but let him sulk when it became clear that was his preference.
“I wouldn’t say I’m Slughorn’s favorite in so many words—“
“Or in any words,” Dorcas snarked.
“But I do think he recognizes sheer talent when he sees it.” Barty pretended to preen. “Don’t you think so, Evan?”
“I think you sound delusional.”
While Regulus felt a bit better after spending time with his friends, he was still a little upset and distractingly hungry. He slipped a napkin-wrapped sausage roll into his pocket while Evan and Dorcas were distracted by Barty’s exaggerated retelling of their earlier encounter with Snape.
I feel like a bloody criminal, he thought.
He knew it would be rude to leave before the rest of the group was ready to do so, but after a few minutes, Regulus just couldn’t wait anymore.
“I’ll use the restroom,” he announced tightly, standing up.
Barty paused his story, looking suspicious. “Are you alright?”
Regulus waved him off. “I’ll be right back.”
Leaving his untouched plate, Regulus walked as calmly as he could down the length of the great hall, passing progressively older clusters of students.
Narcissa smiled at him as he passed her, reaching out briefly to tug at his Slytherin robes. She didn’t seem to want anything other than to acknowledge him, however, because she merely continued speaking with the blond boy next to her who was unmistakably of the Malfoy line.
He was almost at the exit when a hand gripped his robes in a much more demanding fashion than Narcissa had.
“Hi there, little cousin,” Bellatrix cooed, pulling him closer to the seventh year section of the table.
Unlike her younger sister, Bellatrix’s attention was definitely not comforting; it was nerve wracking. There was only one way to get through an interaction with her unscathed, as every Black in their generation knew: complete and utter neutrality.
“Hello, Bella.”
“Are they treating you nicely down there?” She half-stood, leaning forward to look down the table at his fellow first years. A thrill of dread rolled through him at the idea of his cousin focusing on his friends for even a second longer than necessary.
“Yes, of course.”
“You’ll let me know if you need anything, won’t you?” she ordered with false pleasantness.
Regulus hadn’t forgiven her for selling Sirius out the night he was sorted into Gryffindor and didn’t trust her intentions now. But in the interest of leaving as quickly as possible, he nodded tightly.
Bellatrix deemed that sufficient and released him. She turned her attention to her betrothed, Rodolphus Lestrange, who was sitting next to her, but didn’t speak—just stared with unnerving intensity at him until he lifted his gaze from his dinner.
Regulus hastily left them to it, slipping out the door at last. He needed somewhere private to eat. If he ate the sausage roll he’d smuggled out, he could make it a bit longer. Just until he came up with a better plan.
If he thought that would be the end of his familial encounters, however, he was quickly proven wrong.
“Reggie.”
Regulus crossed his arms over his chest defensively, trying to brush past his brother. “No. I’m not talking to you.”
Sirius followed him down the empty, echoing hall. “You’re so fucking stubborn! Stop walking away!”
Regulus did turn around at that. “ What ?” he hissed.
“You know what!”
“I’m not a bloody Legilimens, so no . I don’t .”
“You haven’t eaten dinner! Or lunch!”
“That’s none of your business.”
Sirius scowled at him. “Are you trying to punish me or something?”
“ Punish you?”
“Yes, punish me!”
Behind them, a pair of Ravenclaws exited the great hall. The brothers fell silent as they passed, and Regulus only opened his mouth to speak when he was sure they were out of earshot.
“I didn’t think you cared one whit what I did these days!”
Sirius frowned. “Of course I care. Just because you’re a Slyther—“
“There’s nothing wrong with being a Slytherin!”
A tense silence grew between them.
Merlin, how did this all go so wrong?
Sirius’s frustrated expression seemed to echo this sentiment as he dragged Regulus quickly through a hidden door tucked behind a large floral tapestry. The secret room was filled with furniture draped in dust covers, but perfectly clean like every other inch of the castle. When they were both stuffed inside, his brother turned around and locked the door with his cypress wand.
Regulus wanted to hold onto his anger as he watched him do so; wanted to yell and scream and cry about how unfair it all was. He had friends now. He could wake up and not wonder if he’d make it through the day without their mother putting some new horror to him. Why couldn’t Sirius just be happy for him?
And why couldn’t Regulus bring himself not to care?
“I never say anything, Sirius?” Regulus whispered, his voice cracking in the muffle silence of the room as he repeated the words Sirius had yelled at him in the hallway earlier that day. “I had my tongue ripped out for you. How could you say something like that?”
His brother squeezed his eyes shut against the question, pressing his back to the closed door. “I know. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t.”
“You said I was a bad brother.”
“I didn’t mean that either.”
“Then why did you say it?”
“BECAUSE I WAS HURT!” Sirius burst out, running a hand roughly through his hair and kicking off the door to pace. “I was hurt and angry and you ditched me, Reggie! I told all my friends you were coming with me to Gryffindor and you turned around and sided with our nifflershit family by picking Slytherin !”
“That’s not true,” Regulus told him quietly.
“Oh yeah?” Sirius asked, his lips twisting sarcastically. “And now you’re hanging off Crouch like you’re his new scarf? He’s not your big brother, kid! I am!”
“I know that!”
They were both breathing hard now, but at least they were talking.
“I thought you didn’t care,” Regulus said at length, trying to keep his emotions in check. “I didn’t know that you were feeling replaced. How could I?”
Sirius scowled, kicking at a chair leg. He didn’t speak but Regulus could see that his shoulders were hunched in a way that meant he was feeling uncomfortably vulnerable.
Regulus decided to offer up something vulnerable in return. “I haven’t eaten since before we got to Hogwarts.”
His brother’s head snapped up. “What? Why!?”
“I just… can’t do it. I don’t have a straw.”
“A str—what are you talking about?” Sirius demanded. “You’re being so dramatic. You don’t need a straw! You haven’t in weeks!”
He wasn’t wrong. Logically, Regulus knew that. But all he could think of was how mortified he’d be if he choked and drooled food in front of his new friends.
He couldn’t take that chance.
“I just do .”
“No you don’t! You’re being stupid!” Embarrassed and offended, Regulus tried to move for the door, but Sirius blocked his path. “Just tell me what’s wrong!”
“I just did! I can’t eat in front of people!” Regulus snapped back at him, trying to shake off Sirius’s hold. “Don’t you get it , Sirius?! I can’t even do something as simple as eat because of what our mother did to me!”
Sirius reared back, stunned. “You…?” A dark look came over him. “Are they making fun of you?”
“No!”
Sirius didn’t believe him. “Tell me their names right now. I’ll make them fucking sorry.”
He was so, so tired of this. Regulus folded back against the wall, pressing his palms briefly to his eyelids. “It’s not… I don’t want to choke in front of them. I don’t want people to say the things that mother said about me. I don’t want to make a mess.”
A somber silence fell. Sirius scooted closer, nudging their shoulders together. “I don’t understand. You’ve eaten in front of me before.”
Regulus felt his anger fade away at the question. He didn’t know how to explain that Sirius didn’t count. His entire life he’d been told that he was an extension of Sirius; his right hand.
They were brothers.
Their wands, twins.
The same.
“It’s different.”
Sirius mulled that over for a minute. At last, he reached into his robe pocket and pulled out a chocolate frog—one from their candy hoard on the train. He unwrapped it carefully, catching the animated frog before it could squirm away.
He turned to Regulus. “Hold out your hand.”
Regulus protested immediately, shaking his curls. “No, Sirius. I don’t want it.”
“Take it, kid,” Sirius demanded.
Regulus sighed but obediently plucked the frog from his brother’s hand. It was already less animated, having wasted its one good jump trying to escape Sirius’s fingers. Regulus bit into it, chewing the warm milk chocolate and swallowing.
Suddenly, he was ravenous.
He put the entire rest of the frog in his mouth, dismissing his manners as he chewed, open-mouthed. Then he reached into his pocket and laid waste to his smuggled sausage roll in three bites.
“You’re starving,” Sirius accused, unwrapping a caldron cake. Regulus took it without comment, consuming it in record time. “You can’t do this forever, Reggie! Look—“ This time, Sirius produced a pumpkin pasty with the wrapping still on. “Oh no you don’t!” He pulled back the pastry when Regulus reached for it. “You’re going to eat this in front of your friends.”
“I told you! I can’t!”
“You just did,” he insisted. “C’mon. It’s soft and easy to swallow. What are you going to do without Kreacher’s bloody potions? You can’t just not eat , for Merlin’s sake!”
Regulus wasn’t happy about it, but had to admit that there wasn’t much longevity to his original plan. He didn’t know what else he could do. He was starting to get light headed in the corridors and his fingers had trembled finely as he passed the salt per Evan’s request at the dinner table just recently.
“What if I do something disgusting?” he whispered, finally meeting Sirius’s concerned eye. “I have seven years of school ahead of me, Sirius. I don’t want to lose my friends. I like them.”
“Good friends don’t make you feel like that,” Sirius replied firmly. “So are they not good friends or is it actually mother making you feel this way?”
Regulus shook his head. “They’re good friends.”
“And mother is a million miles away. Don’t let her ruin your life, kid. She’s ruined enough already.”
He nodded reluctantly, earning a tug on his hair that he swatted at. Things were still complicated and it wasn’t all fixed between them, but it was a start. Regulus felt a huge weight slide from his shoulders just knowing that Sirius was still capable of speaking to him and being concerned for him.
He needed Sirius to care about him.
“We’ll talk later,” Sirius promised after unlocking the door and escorting Regulus back to where he’d found him. “And I meant it before. It’s going to be okay.”
Regulus returned to the great hall trying not to squish the pastry in his clenched fist.
“The charm’s classroom is in the east wing, isn’t it?” Evan immediately asked as soon as he sat down with the air of one trying to prove their point.
“It’s not !” Dorcas rolled her eyes. “Regulus, it’s not!”
Fortunately neither party seemed committed to hearing his answer because they continued bickering despite his noncommittal hum. Barty’s eyes were flickering between the two, occasionally pretending to take one side just to get the other person to protest even louder.
In the chaos, Regulus took a small, quick bite off the corner of his pumpkin pasty. He chewed carefully and when nothing terrible happened, he swallowed it.
“—So when they write on the schedule that it’s east of the great hall, that’s what they bloody-well mean. East !”
Disgusting, sloven boor!
You have to talk and make eye contact, Sirius’s voice spoke over their mother’s insults.
Looking Evan in the eye as the conversation moved on to him telling a story from his uncle about Peeves the Poltergeist, Regulus took another careful bite.
It went down easily.
He took a sip of pumpkin juice. Then another. When the glass was empty, he began to serve himself from the many platters around him with careful manners. His friends continued their discussion, but Regulus could sense them watching. They politely refrained from commenting as Regulus began to eat, creating a pleasant drone of conversation to serve as soothing background noise.
October
The days and weeks following echoed the sentiment of settling in and forming a routine. Regulus continued to do very well in all his subjects, but it was clear that potions was his gift. Slughorn certainly seemed to think so and praised his ability at least once a class.
The newest development was Regulus learning the name and motives of the sallow boy with a permanent scowl etched onto his face who had tripped him on his first day and twice thereafter.
“It’s Severus Snape,” Dorcas informed him at breakfast one day, having harvested the necessary gossip from a few Ravenclaws. “Apparently he and your brother really don’t get along.”
That was another thing.
Sirius.
Since their conversation-come-argument, the brothers had maintained an uncertain semi-silence that persisted well into October. Sirius seemed to hover just outside Regulus’s periphery, perpetually stuck between sulking at Regulus for not fighting to be sorted anywhere but Slytherin and wanting to police his little brother like he always did at home.
“Your bag is open.”
“Put a bunch of stuff on your plate and eat it !”
“Don’t take that staircase to Astronomy, use this one. It’s faster.”
And on and on it went.
“If your brother is as exhausting as he seems to someone he likes, I can’t imagine what Snape is going through,” Evan commented, clearly also thinking of Sirius’s overbearing advice. “Not that I feel sorry for him. Did you guys see him try to trip Reg again yesterday? What are we, five?”
“It sounds like it’s worse between them this year,” Dorcas replied. “He’s in the hospital wing covered in boils and a nasty rash at the moment. He definitely pissed someone off.”
Pausing at this piece of information, Regulus couldn’t help but look over at the Gryffindor table, only to find Sirius already staring at him.
I’ll make them fucking sorry, Sirius had said when he’d thought the other Slytherins were making fun of him for struggling to eat.
Regulus held his gaze.
“Reg? Do you know what Hogwarts does for Samhain? We should really start making plans.”
Reluctantly, Regulus tore his eyes away. “What?”
“Samhain,” Dorcas repeated on Evan’s behalf. “I’ll be visiting my family for it, so you’ll have to make do without me.”
Regulus frowned at this information.
Typically, the Blacks observed the holiday at Black Castle, hosted by Grandmother Melania. There was always a huge, roaring bonfire in the center of the castle grounds, surrounded by huge straw wreaths, hundreds of every type of pumpkin, and thousands of strands of autumnal fairy lights. Relatives, business associates, and socialites usually comprised the guest list and it was one of the bigger social gatherings of the year. For Regulus, that usually meant hanging off of Sirius as he was trotted out for distant cousins and important pureblood lords and ladies.
“There’s a feast and then a bunch of bonfires on the lawn,” Regulus recalled from Sirius’s letters. “I think it’s more of a party than a spiritual rite here.”
“Good. I’m sick of putting out offerings for people who were very objectively prats.”
“Barty!” all three of them exclaimed.
“You can’t say things like that about the dead,” Evan insisted.
“Being dead doesn’t clear you of what you did during life,” said Barty reasonably, taking a bite of his oatmeal. “My father always makes a big show of putting all these dessert breads out for my grandparents and they were mean bastards.”
“The bonfires and food should still be fun,” Dorcas compromised.
Barty opened his mouth to reply to that, but along with his words came a sudden stream of bright pink soap bubbles. Dorcas reeled back as the bubbles shot straight at her face, her answering words of protests generating still more suds.
Up and down the Slytherin table, the effect was the same, attracting the attention of the rest of the student body, most of whom began to laugh. Slytherin students with less humor cursed loudly, which only changed the size of the bubbles into great bulbous things. Picking up on this, Barty and Dorcas began to swear colorfully, competing to see who would form the largest one.
On his right hand side, Evan rolled his eyes. “You brother,” he said in two distinct bubbles, nodding towards the Gryffindor table.
Regulus followed his line of sight to see Sirius and his friends laughing louder than anyone else, clearly pleased by their successful prank. Potter caught his eye as he glared at them, sending a cheeky wink.
“At least it’s not particularly harmful,” Evan conceded, watching Barty let out a long breath of swear words that no eleven year old should know.
Regulus sulked, sinking his fork into a piece of fruit, resigned to their shared fate. “I guess.”
Each word was punctuated by a bright pink bubble.
The… spell? Potion? Curse? The magic lasted all day, despite a few solid attempts by the professors to put it right. Professor Flitwick in particular seemed unhelpfully delighted by their predicament and spent as much time praising the creativity of the prank as he did trying to dispel it.
“It has a time limit on it in any case,” he had concluded after the three other houses had left for their lessons. Slytherin alone had remained in the great hall to hear the verdict. “It’s not a harmful charm, but it was triggered by you students sitting on the benches of your house table.” He had waved his wand, presumably dispelling it. “It will wear off the longer you are away from the charmed object. This brings me to a very interesting property of the Viridian Charm, actually…”
“No one cares!” Barty finally yelled when they were a safe enough distance away from Flitwick to do so. “Merlin, no one bloody cares about the Viridian Charm! It’s a sixth year spell! What am I supposed to do with ten minutes worth of that information!?”
Evan tutted at him. “I mean, you have a point. You couldn’t even levitate that feather—“
“Go to hell, Rosier!”
“I’ll see you there.”
On the morning of October 31st, Regulus, Barty, and Evan arrived at the great hall to find it decorated with a ceiling full of candlelit jack-o’-lanterns. Shadows of black cats peered out from every corner of the room, much to Regulus’s delight, and cornucopias full of colorful gourds, apples, and corn served as fresh centerpieces every few feet of the house tables.
Despite their house’s more reserved way of showing it, the Slytherins were just as excited as anyone else for the arrival of the Samhain holiday. They had the day off from lessons, for one thing. Dorcas had left before dawn to travel to her family’s estate to prepare for their traditional evening festivities, much to her friends’ protests. Fortunately, neither Regulus nor Evan nor Barty had been required to return home for the holiday, which left them free to lounge around the library.
They had pretended to do work for a short while at first, but the discourse had quickly turned to what they were looking forward to the most that evening—which they unanimously agreed to be the wishing fire. Traditionally, revelers would write secret wishes on bits of paper and throw them into the flames of the bonfire in hopes of them being granted on Yule. It was a wildly popular activity for children across the magical community, though Regulus hadn’t understood that telling no one included not telling Sirius, which Barty quickly corrected him on.
“If you tell anyone , the wish doesn’t come true! That’s what it means!”
“Well I wished for a book last year and it came,” Regulus retorted stubbornly.
“A book? Shocking,” Evan muttered in the background.
Barty looked skeptical. “Are you sure?”
“I didn’t get my wish the year before, though,” he admitted, to be fair. “I wanted to go to the fairgrounds but it didn’t happen.”
“See!” said Barty triumphantly. “Because you told someone!”
“I just told my brother. Sirius doesn’t count.”
“He counts!”
“He counts,” Evan agreed.
“You three still believe in wishing fires ?” a sneering voice goaded.
Severus Snape, who looked to have been passing by on his way to the potions section, had stopped to overhear their discussion.
Regulus immediately began to locate his wand, just in case.
“Piss off, Snape,” Barty scowled.
“What are you on about?” Evan asked at the same time.
“Wishing fires aren’t real, obviously,” Snape taunted, a cruel glint in his eye. “Only babies believe in them. Parents use switching spells to get your wish cards before you put them in the fire. Everyone knows that. Your parents give you Yule presents, not magic fire .”
Regulus looked at his friends out of reflex. Barty had an unreadable expression but Evan just looked angry.
“No one asked you, you filthy halfblood .”
Used to such tones being taken about blood status at home, Regulus watched unflinchingly as Snape shrugged, carrying on past their table. “Believe what you want, but you’re going to look stupid when you’re the only ones putting wishes in the bonfire in front of everyone .”
With that wisdom, he vanished.
The three boys waited to be sure he had really left before bending their heads together in discussion.
“So do you think he was telling the truth?” Barty asked quietly.
“He’s lying,” said Regulus immediately. “I asked the fire for a book of fairytales last year and got them. My parents had already told me a year before that I was too old for children’s stories and pretending. They threw all my fairytale books out, which is why I asked the fire for more. They wouldn’t have given me that book in a million years.”
“My father wouldn’t bother,” Barty agreed. He paused. “But my mother would do it. She always wants me to be happy.”
“Evan?”
Evan, who had remained contemplatively silent, focused as his opinion was requested. “I honestly don’t know. My parents might do what Snape’s suggesting. I just don’t know though. We should ask someone.”
But who would they ask? Dorcas would probably know, but she wouldn’t be back from visiting home until after Samhain.
They all furrowed their brow at this dilemma.
In the end, Regulus made the executive decision to ask the same person he always asked when faced with the unknown.
“Sirius?”
His brother cut off mid-conversation with Remus Lupin to look at him. Things felt much more normal between them ever since Sirius had seemingly decided that nothing was really different and to simply continue bossing Regulus around like he did at home. Regulus honestly didn’t mind it much. Though their parents’ house could get very hellish very quickly, he missed having Sirius to himself. Here at school, there were so many things and people vying for his brother’s attention. It was nice having a reason for Sirius to focus on him.
“Hey, Reggie,” Sirius winked, looking very cool with his sleeves pushed up and tie loose. “C’mere.”
“Hi, Reg,” Lupin, Potter, and Pettigrew chorused as he approached. They were lurking around a large window overlooking a pickup game that had broken out on the quidditch pitch, which Potter kept half an eye on even as he greeted Regulus.
At least Sirius had gotten Potter to stop calling him Reggie.
“What can we do for you?”
Regulus opened his mouth with confidence, but then hesitated. He had come to seek confirmation that wishing fires were real vessels of wish-granting magic, but a new worry kept him silent.
What if Snape was right?
Only babies believe in them. Everyone knows that.
“Reggie?” Sirius prompted.
More than anything, he wanted Sirius to think he was cool and mature. What if he and his friends laughed at him for still believing in something so childish?
“What’s wrong?” Sirius asked more sharply. “Did someone hurt you?”
“Are wishing fires real?” Regulus said it as fast as possible before he could lose his nerve or Sirius could assume vengeance was needed.
“Of course they are!” Sirius said immediately, almost defensively.
Regulus could feel the tension drain from his shoulders. Well, that answered that. Sirius would definitely know and so if he said it was real, surely that must be true.
“Sirius…” Potter finally looked away completely from the match below, unexpectedly sympathetic. “C’mon. You’ve got to. The other kids are going to make fun of him if you don’t tell him.”
“Not if they want to bloody live!” Sirius said hotly.
“You can’t be everywhere,” Pettigrew pointed out. He, too, looked like he wasn’t enjoying his position.
His brother pursed his lips, looking angry.
“It’ll be kinder if it comes from you.”
Lupin’s words seemed to reluctantly galvanize him, because Sirius sighed, dropping his head briefly to his chest before looking back up at Regulus, who met his eye with apprehension.
“C’mere, kid.” Sirius swept him along with one arm until they were just out of earshot a few yards down the corridor from the others.
It was private, which Regulus appreciated, given the conversation he was slowly understanding was about to happen. He watched Sirius twist his heir ring on his left hand distractedly for a moment, feeling perhaps unreasonably vulnerable.
“There’s no such thing as wishing magic, is there?” Regulus finally said in a small voice.
Sirius stopped fidgeting abruptly. He looked like he wanted to deny it. “No, Reggie, there isn’t.”
“But my fairytale book last year!” Regulus tried to dispute this. “Snape said parents use the switching spell to get the letters before they go into the fire. Mother and father would never give me that book! It had to be the wishing fire!”
“I sent you that book.”
Regulus blinked, having never considered this possibility. “What? No, you were at Hogwarts! You weren’t even there for Samhain!”
“You always told me what you wished for,” Sirius smiled fondly despite the situation. “Never could keep a secret from me to save your life. You were so sad the year before when our parents decided you were too old for wishing fires and stopped granting your wishes. And then mother threw out your fairytales and was going to sit you down and tell you the truth, but I told her you were my responsibility so I’d do it. I didn’t, though. I sent the book to Kreacher by owl order and he wrapped it and put it in your room for me.”
A deep well of realization and disappointment flooded through him. The wishing fire had been his favorite Samhain activity his whole life. He always thought long and hard about what he’d wish for, occasionally soliciting feedback from Sirius to make sure he was making a very good wish.
But it wasn’t real.
None of it was.
Regulus felt very young as he looked up at his big brother. “Why did you do it?”
“I was protecting you,” Sirius answered simply.
“You can’t protect me from everything .”
“We’ll see about that.”
Despite his sadness, that tugged a smile to Regulus's face.
“C’mon, let’s go back to the lads. They’ve missed you since the train. They’ll want to know all about how your first year is going.”
“They do or you do?”
Sirius snorted as they began walking back, tossing an arm over Regulus’s shoulders. “Hard to tell who’s more interested in what you’re up to these days, what with James asking after you so much. I swear he thinks he’s your big brother.”
Notes:
Next time:
The first quidditch match of the year arrives and the Slytherins discover something special about Regulus. Meanwhile, Regulus learns two very important things: that he might find a boy attractive and that a word his parents use very casually might actually be a very bad word.
-
Number of times Sirius was The Worst: 1
Number of times Sirius was ready to throw hands for Regulus: 2
Number of times Sirius defended his post as President of the Regulus Black Fan Club: many- villain
Chapter 7: Mudblood
Summary:
This time:
The first quidditch match of the year arrives and the Slytherins discover something special about Regulus. Meanwhile, Regulus learns two very important things: that he might find a boy attractive and that a word his parents use very casually might actually be a very bad word.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Beta: TheDisreputableDog
November
The first quidditch match of the year fell on the first weekend of November, to great fanfare from the student body. It was Slytherin vs Ravenclaw and it became immediately obvious who was a quidditch fan and who could care less.
“I could care less,” Evan had announced when Barty tried to discuss the merits of the Cleansweep’s newest model broom with him the week before.
Dorcas had booed loudly, tossing a crumpled bit of parchment from her scrapped attempt at the potions essay they were all working on at him. “What’s the matter with you!?”
“I just think it’s boring.”
“You still have to come watch the game with us,” Barty had demanded. “It’s a matter of house solidarity!”
“I absolutely refuse.”
Which was how the three of them ended up perched high in the rafters of the quidditch field without him, surrounded by a sea of green and silver and waiting excitedly for the match to start. The enthusiasm of the crowd was contagious, heightening Regulus’s anticipation as he and his friends ate sugar quills and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Barty had spent the better part of the last five minutes trying to unsuccessfully convince Regulus and Dorcas that the yellow-speckled bean he was offering to them was anything but vomit-flavored. Finally, he gave up and tossed it in his mouth, making a face as the taste hit.
“We’ve got to try out for the team.” Dorcas leaned in closer to the boys in order to be heard above the racket. Barty and Regulus reciprocated, straining to hear her. “What position do you guys play?”
“Beater,” Barty replied immediately after swallowing.
“Me too!”
She and Barty beamed at one another.
“We’ve got to practice.”
“Definitely! What about you, Reg?”
“Sirius says I would make a good seeker,” Regulus answered unconvincingly. “But I don’t know. I’ve never played before.”
He was unwilling to admit that he had also only ever flown a children’s toy broom until recently. That seemed like the kind of thing that would take awhile to live down.
The match began with the Slytherin team immediately coming into possession of the quaffle. It was fast-paced and difficult to follow at times, but the commentary provided by one of the Hufflepuffs was helpful enough that Regulus could mostly tell what was going on. Barty and Dorcas were nearly beside themselves cheering, on their feet more often than not and discussing each player’s merits with each other like they were about to be asked to pick the Scottish National Team.
An hour and a half in, the score was 90 to 30 in Slytherin’s favor. As far as he could tell, the Slytherin team was faring quite well. It was Coral Salt’s first year playing keeper and she had blocked all but three goals. Regulus couldn’t imagine how nerve-racking it must be to have your debut game also be the first game of the annual Hogwarts league.
“It’s not that I think Ravenclaw’s chasers are bad,” Dorcas explained, as though to protest, while Barty nodded seriously beside her. Andy Goldsmith had just missed his shot at the Slytherin goalposts, to great celebration from their section of the stands. “I just think Goldsmith needs his eyes checked and an extra arm attached to his bloody broom.”
“Fair, fair.”
Regulus rolled his eyes, and in doing so, caught a glimpse of something fluttering in his periphery.
The November sun avoided the golden snitch, which skulked under the shade of the stands two away from them. Its little wings beat like a hummingbird’s, flitting this way and that before darting towards the neatly kept grass.
Its movements were mesmerizing.
“Do you see that?” Regulus demanded, interrupted Barty’s suggestion that the Ravenclaw beaters would be equally as useful if both their arms were amputated. His heart rate picked up, as though trying to match each flicker of the snitch’s wings, and his eyes locked onto the ball’s movement so intently that it felt impossible to tear them away.
“What?”
“The snitch!”
Barty and Dorcas looked eagerly in the direction Regulus indicated. “Where?”
“There,” he insisted, his eyes tracking its movements towards the Slytherin goal posts.
Regulus might be considered underwhelming compared to his older brother by many, but if the question was put to the universe, “what could be unique about Regulus Black?” there would always be one answer that could be given uncontested.
His eyes.
Brilliant, striking, and pure silver, Regulus’s eyes tracked like a cat’s and could spot a white feather in the snow during a blizzard. Sirius had claimed over the summer that he would make a great seeker on this basis, and as Regulus’s gaze flickered from side to side, up and down in synchrony with the tiny snitch, he found himself thinking just maybe.
Regulus had never considered himself very special. Just because he could see his mother’s hexes coming at him in higher definition than the average person, it didn’t mean he had been allowed to dodge them. The furthest thing his parents cared about him seeing was the words on the pages of the books he’d been assigned by tutors. His eyesight hadn’t spared him any suffering or earned him any praise, but as the Ravenclaw seeker seemed to spot the snitch too, pulling her broom in a half-circle to change her flying trajectory, he felt a new want form within him; a daring desire to finally be special.
“Looks like Morgan’s spotted something!” the commentator shouted, making the Slytherin seeker whip his head around in a desperate bid to locate her.
The Ravenclaw seeker pulled into a moderate dive, making a beeline towards the Slytherin side of the field.
“COME ON, SNOWFEATHER, YOU BLOODY BASTARD!” Dorcas screamed, nearly drowned out by the roar around them as the other Slytherins shouted similar curses, standing in a house-wide wave of bodies. “COME ON, COME ON—“
The chase was over before it had really started. Allen Snowfeather, the Slytherin seeker, had been on the complete opposite side of the arena when his Ravenclaw counterpart, Megan Morgan, had made her bid for the catch. There was nothing he could have done, and Regulus felt a bit bad for him as the stands around him frenzied.
“NOOOO!” Barty shrieked as the Ravenclaw wrapped her fingers around the golden snitch, raising her arm above her in triumph. “I’LL SEE YOU IN HELL, SNOWFEATHER, YOU USELESS, LUMBERING—“
“Good game,” Regulus told them dryly, unfazed by his friends’ unadulterated outrage. “Well played.”
“NO IT BLOODY WASN’T!”
“I’LL FLING MYSELF OFF THIS STAND, GUYS, I SWEAR I WILL!”
Despite Dorcas’s threats, they made it back to the semi-sunny courtyard where they’d left Evan without acting on any life-threatening dramatics. Evan was seated on a bench near the edge of the stone floorwork, and lowered his book with interest as Barty threw himself down on the grass next to him and screamed into his knees.
“Good game?” Evan asked, just to be difficult.
“That’s subjective, apparently,” Regulus answered.
“REG SAW THAT SNITCH AGES BEFORE MORGAN DID!”
“WAS OUR SEEKER TAKING A FUCKING NAP!?”
“How’s your book?”
“Less wordy than these two.”
“You’ve got to try out for the team, Reg.” Dorcas finally composed herself enough to speak at a normal volume. “It’s for the good of the people. You’re selfish if you don’t.”
“I won’t survive watching another match like that. If you ever cared about me, you’d do it.”
“I’ve never even played before,” Regulus protested even as the temptation of it beat against his chest.
Special, he thought, his previous contemplations returning to him.
Barty picked up a rock from the grass next to him and flung it at Regulus’s head.
He dodged it. “What the hell!”
“You were supposed to catch it.”
Regulus picked up the rock and threw it back.
It hit.
“Ow!”
“Well, well, well!”
“Bugger off, Black,” Barty scowled immediately as Sirius swaggered up to them.
There was no lost love between Barty and Sirius after their disastrous first meeting. It was clear that Barty thought Sirius was a horrible brother and that Sirius resented Barty for replacing him as Regulus’s favorite person. Despite Regulus’s best efforts at assuring both parties that neither assertion was true, the pair glared at each other whenever they had the chance and went out of their way to antagonize each other with each interaction.
“Don’t be a sore loser, you little creep,” Sirius replied cheerfully. “Just admit to yourself that the better team won.”
“Why are you acting like you had anything to do with it!? I don’t remember seeing you up on a broom back there!”
Ignoring that, his brother threw his arm over Regulus’s shoulders. “Reggie! You’re looking particularly grouchy today! Small favor to ask—“
“Oh no,” he deadpanned.
“I need you to convince mother to send my broom to you so I can use it to practice. I’m going to try out as Gryffindors’s beater.”
The Slytherins all looked surprised at this news.
The Gryffindor quidditch team captain was running incredibly late with tryouts, having scheduled them for late November. Gryffindor’s first match of the year would be against Ravenclaw in December, but teams were usually fully assembled by early October.
“Come off it, Black,” Barty scoffed. “You’re bloody twelve and built like a twig! They’re going to pick from fourth year and up!”
“Nose out, Bartemius Junior.”
“Why would mother let me have a broom and not you?” Regulus frowned.
“You’re in the right house, Reggie. Time for us to capitalize on it!”
Regulus was really not interested in lying to their mother. Negative consequences tended to befall people who did that.
“I… guess so.”
“Brilliant!” Sirius cheered, clapping him on the shoulder. “Well, sorry about the match. Good try and all that.”
“Bugger off,” Barty told him.
“Wow, catty thing you are! Tryouts are soon, so put a rush on it. Let me know when you’ve got it, okay?”
“Okay,” Regulus answered apprehensively as Sirius trotted away.
“You’re not actually going to do it, right?” Evan asked, frowning. Out of everyone present, Evan was the most familiar with Walburga Black—though even he couldn’t know the full extent of the consequences for lying to her.
Regulus just sighed, rummaging through the other boy’s bag to fish out a bit of parchment and a quill. He tuned out Barty and Dorcas’s new argument debating just what year you had to be in to have a chance at earning a beater’s position as he smoothed the paper out in his lap, attempting a draft of something that might get Sirius what he wanted.
The last time he’d bothered to write had been the week he’d been sorted into Slytherin. His parents had been extremely pleased by the news (though Regulus didn’t doubt they had already heard of it from Bella) and sent him a huge box of chocolates that had barely lasted a week in the first years’ dorm.
Dear mother, he began, then stopped.
What the hell was he supposed to say?
Eventually he opted for something somewhat reasonable. He wanted to fly with his new Slytherin friends and wanted a nice broom to show off, so could he please borrow Sirius’s? He made sure to include Evan’s name, since their parents were as close as anyone could ever want to get to Walburga and Orion Black. Their estates neighbored one another on Morgana Hill and the Rosiers were a dark pureblood family.
“You have to tell your brother that you’re going to fly with the broom sometimes too,” Dorcas bartered when he rolled the letter up neatly to be sent. “You’ve got to start training for seeker.”
“Two people have tried to prove I’d be a good seeker by throwing things at me and both times, I didn’t catch it. What was the point in throwing things if you were going to decide it didn’t mean anything anyway?”
Dorcas waved that off. “They’re being stupid. That sort of test only counts for chasers or keepers. What really matters is that those eyes can track! Why didn't you ever tell us about this!?” She leaned in alarmingly close. “Huh. I haven’t seen them this close up before. They’re really pretty!”
“Let me see,” Barty demanded, pushing Dorcas out of the way and replacing her head with his.
Barty pressed his face right up to Regulus’s so their noses nearly touched, holding him still with his hands on either side of Regulus’s head. His eyes were a lovely ocean blue and they bore intensely into his own silver ones like he wanted to crawl into Regulus’s head and stay there. His blond hair framed fair features and a splash of freckles colored his nose and cheeks. Barty was still too young to be called so, but Regulus thought he would be very handsome when he was older.
Without really knowing why, Regulus felt his cheeks starting to warm.
He pulled away, flustered.
“Those are going to be snitch-tracking machines,” Barty announced, oblivious to Regulus’s sudden embarrassment. “We should go watch a couple of pickup games…”
His friends carried on the conversation, which gave Regulus the opportunity to try to breathe through whatever had just happened.
What the hell had just happened!?
The places where Barty had held him were tingling and his stomach fluttered nervously. All he could think of was Barty’s blue eyes and freckles and hands. He thought of the warm puff of breath on his skin as the other boy gazed into his eyes.
He wondered what Barty thought of him.
“—and they have casual games so students who aren’t on their house team can play—”
Dorcas had said his eyes were pretty; lots of people had. They were a startling sterling color that even those who praised Sirius over him couldn’t help but take a second look at.
“—thought Aubrey was going to get seriously injured when he did that—”
Does Barty think that too?
“—what do you think, Reg?”
Regulus bit his lip guiltily, feeling caught out and unable to quite meet Barty’s eye. “Sorry?”
“We should play a pickup game,” Dorcas repeated. “They have them all the time on the weekends. Then we can see if you’re any good at seeking.”
“He’ll be great,” Barty boasted, sliding an arm around Regulus’s waist to pull him close, making Regulus inexplicably bashful. “And we’ll watch his back with those bludgers, right Dorcas?”
“Right!”
A few days after that confusing interaction, Regulus was feeling a little more composed around Barty, but still occasionally like he’d missed a step going downstairs. Nothing was different about their friendship and Barty didn’t seem to notice his temporary insanity, so they carried on well enough.
Even on the morning Regulus woke up in an absolutely foul mood.
He couldn’t recall the exact details, but he knew he’d had an awful nightmare last night that left him exhausted come morning. The afterimage of his bad dream was pressed up against the back of his mind, but he couldn’t say for sure what it had been about.
All he knew was that he’d woken up freezing.
The day got worse from there.
He forgot his transfiguration essay in the dorm and had to walk all the way back to get it, which made him late for class. Then McGonagall announced a twenty-inch essay on the difference between transfiguring wood and metal, which he really didn’t care about.
…Okay, maybe it wasn’t a very long list of grievances, but it felt like the Hufflepuff first year slamming into him after running blindly around a corner in the dungeons was the last straw.
Exhausted, irritated, and now sporting a sore shoulder, Regulus glared down at Amber Gibbly with a level of scorn that admittedly didn’t match the offense.
“Watch where you’re going, mudblood.”
Barty and Evan sniggered as the Hufflepuff glared at them with pink cheeks, scuttling off to join her classmates before all of them vanished up the stairs. It felt good to have his friends—especially Barty—harmonizing with his actions and seeing him demonstrate his higher position in the social hierarchy over someone else.
“REGULUS FUCKING BLACK.”
Eyes wide, Regulus spun around in surprise to face his brother, who he hadn’t noticed coming up the corridor from the opposite direction.
Sirius was scowling furiously, glaring at him so angrily that Regulus had to take a step back. Beside him, Potter, Lupin, and Pettigrew were staring too, pale and shocked.
“What the bloody hell did you just say!?” Sirius hissed.
Regulus blinked at him, speechless. His awful morning and preoccupation with the possibility of a boy finding him attractive were suddenly forgotten. He’d never seen Sirius this angry at him before—not even when he’d been sorted into Slytherin. When Regulus offered up no words in return, Sirius strode forward and gripped onto his green and silver tie, pulling him in.
“Don’t you ever say that word again!”
Shaking, Regulus tried to squirm away.
His brother held on tighter. “Did you hear me!?”
Regulus was genuinely confused and upset by this question. “What word?”
“Don’t play stupid!”
Replaying the last few minutes in his head, Regulus shakily tried to pinpoint what his brother was so upset about. “...You mean mudblood? Why? You say that all the time at home—”
Sirius jerked harshly on his tie. “Don’t fucking lie about stuff like that, Regulus!” He looked embarrassed as well as angry now, his eyes flickering over to his three friends who were still watching them silently.
“You’re hurting me,” Regulus informed him, wide-eyed and more out of shock than anything else.
He didn’t understand what was happening at all. Their parents were mean people with a discipline style that leaned towards violence, but his brother had never laid a hand on him in anger.
Ever.
Sirius looked startled by this statement, immediately letting go, as though burned. For a moment, he stared at Regulus, his eyes flickering from his neck to his face.
Then, all at once, he turned on his heel and stormed back down the corridor the way he’d come, the other Gryffindors trailing after him like ghosts.
When they’d gone, Regulus finally turned back to his own friends, wide-eyed. His expression of shock was mirrored by Evan and Barty.
“What was that?”
“I have no idea,” Evan admitted, coming closer. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Regulus said tremblingly, pressing his hand to the back of his sore neck. Sirius had really yanked him in hard.
“He was pissed,” Barty noted grimly.
“Mudblood isn't a bad word.” Regulus paused. It was like boy or girl or you there. “Right?”
“It’s sort of a bad word,” Evan said slowly. “But I didn’t think it was that bad.”
“It’s what they are, though,” Regulus insisted, confused. It was the word his and Evan’s parents used exclusively to describe those of muggle lineage, which Gibbly was. Walburga also liked to hiss it at people she didn’t like in Diagon Alley.
“Maybe we can ask someone.”
They asked Dorcas.
“‘Mudblood?’” Dorcas repeated, pouring her tea thoughtfully. She’d been waiting for them in the great hall and had listened patiently as Regulus explained their frightening encounter with his brother with an empathetic expression. “Yeah, I think it’s a pretty bad word.”
“He was pissed at Reg for saying it.”
“But you said your brother says it all the time at home,” Dorcas protested.
“He used to,” Regulus frowned, trying to remember the last time Sirius had said the word. “I hadn’t thought about it but… I guess he really hasn’t said it lately. Not since before Hogwarts, I guess.”
What had made him stop?
Sirius was still not speaking to him when a long package carried by three owls in tandem arrived after breakfast the next day. Regulus could nonetheless feel his eyes on him when the owls wisely landed in the walkway between the Slytherin house table and the wall rather than attempt to land amid the dishes on the actual table.
“Is that it?” Dorcas asked eagerly, leaning over the table for a better view of the brown paper-wrapped racing broom. Sirius’s Cleansweep 9 wasn’t the latest in the series anymore, but it was still a fantastic broom that was popular among the professional quidditch leagues.
“Yes,” Regulus agreed, hesitating. He didn’t know if he should take it to his dorm or hand it over to Sirius directly. Maybe he was being a little petty, but ultimately Regulus decided to just unwrap it there in front of his classmates.
Turning to straddle the bench, he propped the package up between him and Barty before carefully tugging off the brown paper. Petty or not, he wasn’t angry enough to damage Sirius’s prized possession.
Except it wasn’t Sirius’s broom.
“The Cleansweep 10!” Dorcas gasped, nearly climbing on the table for a better look. “I thought you said your brother has a 9?”
“He does. This isn’t his broom.” Regulus unrolled the letter that had come with it. “‘Well done earning a place in Slytherin house, Regulus. Remember that great achievements bring great rewards. Signed, Mother and Father.’” He paused, stunned. “The broom is for me.”
His friends exclaimed loudly over this news.
“That’s great, Reg!”
“I saw this model in Quality Quidditch over summer. Its specks are unbelievable!”
Meanwhile, Regulus was struggling to understand the deeper implications of this.
It wasn’t that he didn’t get expensive presents—he was a Black offspring off the main line, after all—but he rarely received something better than what Sirius had. Usually they received identical gifts, which probably spoke to their parents' limited patience for thinking of gift ideas at all than it did their interest in equality. But Regulus getting the broom they knew Sirius wanted was a deliberate jab.
One that he did not think Sirius would take gracefully.
“Oh good, our parents sent my broom!”
Speaking of Sirius.
His brother had arrived, seemingly unable to stand watching Regulus’s friends fawn over what he believed to be his broom from across the hall.
“I’ll be taking that with me.”
In an unexpected display of fire, Evan slammed his hand down on the broom’s handle to prevent Sirius from snatching it away.
“It’s not yours! It’s Regulus’s!”
“No it’s not! It’s–”
That’s when Sirius actually bothered to look down at the broom. His eyes widened and he looked pissed.
“The Cleansweep 10!?”
“See?” Barty taunted. “It’s not yours, it’s better.”
Regulus could feel Sirius’s glare boring into him. Wrong-footed, Regulus just picked up his new broom without making eye contact, pretending to be overly-interested in the bristles at its tail.
“I see how it is. It’s for sucking up and landing in Slytherin, huh?”
Despite their recent reconciliation, his brother was clearly not over that.
“Jealous?” Dorcas suggested.
Sirius laughed unpleasantly. “Whatever, Reggie. It’s not like you’ll know what to do with it. He’s only ridden a toddler broom before Hogwarts, you know. Good luck and try not to fall.”
With that, he stormed off back in the direction of the Gryffindor table.
“Wanker!” Barty called after him. Turning to Regulus, he added, “I can’t believe he’s your brother. C’mon, let’s put that away before class starts. I wouldn’t put it past Black to try and light it on fire.”
Two more days passed.
Pursuing the subject, Dorcas had asked her Ravenclaw acquaintances in the row behind them during history of magic if “mudblood” was a truly bad word. This had kicked off a philosophical discussion that spun Regulus in circles and left him feeling more frustrated than before. According to the Ravenclaws, it was a relatively new word in the English language that had emerged with the rise of the Dark Lord Grindelwald. Grindelwald and his supporters had used the term to identify witches and wizards whose parents’ blood were considered impure. The Blacks, whose house’s very motto was Toujours Pur, or Always Pure, used the term interchangeably with muggleborn. To Regulus, who had grown up hearing it, mudblood seemed no more unusual to say than pureblood or halfblood.
Eventually, Regulus had to concede that he simply didn’t understand and the only one who actually explained anything to him was the person that was angry with him in the first place.
Seeking Sirius out this time was more nerve-wrecking than any other instance he could think of. Regulus kept thinking back to Sirius yanking on his tie and how scary it had been to see his brother’s snarling face so close to his—an expression usually reserved for arguing with their mother.
He found Sirius with his friends in the library.
It took awhile of lurking among the shelves nearby for Regulus to pluck up the courage to do it, but he eventually presented himself to hover near their table, passing through the silencing ward surrounding them and waiting impatiently for Sirius’s acknowledgement.
Remus Lupin noticed him first. Unlike the previous occasions when Lupin had greeted him smilingly, this time he was tight-lipped and went back to his book.
That stung.
Noticing Lupin’s movements, Sirius looked up too, saw his brother, and went right back to his work, ignoring him with a scowl.
It didn't take long for Potter and Pettigrew to take note of the situation after that. Peter simply followed his friends’ lead and pretended he wasn’t there, but Potter looked at him sadly, which was even more intolerable.
Finally, Sirius seemed to give up on ignoring him. “What, Regulus?”
“Why am I being punished?” Regulus demanded, his tone borderline insolent. He very rarely threw tantrums since their parents didn’t tolerate them from their spare son, but Sirius would usually entertain his feelings as he ranted and complained about whatever injustice was bothering him. “You’re being completely unfair!”
Sirius scoffed at him. “Oh I’m being unfair? What about the nifflershit that came out of your mouth the other day? That was fair?”
“You used to say that word all the time at home!” Regulus insisted, heedless of Sirius’s friends' uneasy stares. “Why is it different when I do!?”
“Because I didn’t know any better!”
Regulus pursed his lips, frustrated. “I don’t understand!”
“Yes you do!”
Unexpectedly, Potter cut in. “I actually don’t think he does, Sirius.”
“Don’t defend him!”
“He’s just repeating stupid shit your family has said. That you’ve said, as we all know.” Sirius flushed. “How’s he going to know it’s bad? He’s surrounded by your parents all the time and apparently you didn't talk to him about it!"
Potter and Sirius both looked at Regulus, who watched their conversation uncertainly.
“Regulus,” Lupin asked suddenly, “you and I get on, right?”
“Yes…” Regulus answered guardedly, wondering where this was going.
“I’m a halfblood.”
“Okay.” Regulus waited expectantly for a question to be put to him, but Lupin just looked satisfied.
“See?" Potter pointed out. "He doesn’t know anything, Sirius.”
Regulus protested. “I'm at the top of my year!”
“Of course you are,” Sirius agreed, playfully condescending. He looked genuinely relieved by his and Lupin’s interaction, however. “Why did you say it, then?”
“Say what?” Regulus asked, exasperated.
“That word,” Sirius insisted, refusing to speak it. "In that way."
Regulus didn’t really have an explanation except saying that that word in that way was how he’d seen the rest of his family exert power over others. When their mother was in the wrong during an argument and everyone knew it, she would simply dismiss her opponent with a cutting comment about their blood status.
“I don't know. It’s just what you say.”
“It’s bad, Reggie,” Sirius rebuked him firmly. "I told you not to say it."
Regulus vaguely remembered Sirius saying something like that, but it had been in passing and without any real context. “But why?”
Lupin rephrased it. “How would you feel if people made fun of your eye color?”
“Everyone loves my eyes.”
“I mean your hair.”
“Everyone loves my hair.”
Lupin looked exasperated. “Your height, then.”
“Watch it,” Sirius warned.
“It’s something you can’t change,” Lupin continued. “But people kept making you feel bad about it by acting like it made you lesser. How would you feel?”
Regulus considered this. People his parents showed Sirius off to frequently gave the impression that they found Regulus to be underwhelming by comparison. He was too small, too dainty, or too quiet.
Not very good at all, is how it felt.
“I guess that makes sense,” Regulus admitted slowly, though he wasn’t sure he was really sold on this explanation.
“So when you insult people, try to think of something else, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Or just don’t insult people,” Potter offered. He smiled tentatively at Regulus, which tightened his resolve to find alternative slights to deliver.
“That’s… not really how Slytherin works.”
“What are you working on for classes?” Pettigrew asked helpfully, steering them into easier conversation.
Regulus looked at his brother, who smiled at him.
“I have an essay on mushrooms due in three days.”
Pettigrew brightened. “I’m quite good at herbology, you know. Why don’t you sit down.”
Regulus tentatively did so.
After about an hour of alternating between working quietly and brief discussions with Pettigrew, Sirius cleared his throat next to him.
“Sorry,” his brother apologized, looking guilty. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, when I pulled on your tie in the hallway.”
Regulus shrugged. “It’s okay—“
“It's not,” Sirius cut him off quickly. “You were scared of me. I could tell and I did it anyway.”
He looked quite upset. Regulus knew that his brother resisted any behavior that might be attributed to their parents—whether in praise or reprimand—and Sirius’s actions had been admittedly threatening at the time.
“I’m not afraid of you now,” Regulus offered.
Sirius frowned before giving a jerky nod. “I’m sorry,” he repeated anyway.
“I know.”
“I never, ever want you to fall off a broom, for the record. And I shouldn’t have told them about your kid’s broom. That was petty.”
Regulus shrugged. “They think you’re lying anyway so it really doesn't matter.”
Sirius laughed softly. After another minute of scratching quills, he paused again. “I was jealous, you know. Your psycho friend wasn’t wrong. But not of getting into Slytherin—just of the stupid broom.”
“You can borrow the ‘stupid broom’ if you want.” Regulus rolled his eyes. “You know our parents only sent it to me to make you angry.”
“I know. Sorry that it worked. Thanks, kid.”
Regulus ducked his head, smiling.
It wasn’t often he could offer Sirius something he wanted, so he had to seize every moment he could.
Notes:
Next time:
James Potter recounts his first year at Hogwarts, his ambition to find himself a little sibling, and the flustered feeling he gets when he's around Regulus Black.
---
I received a request for James's POV, so I've adjusted for it!
- villain
Chapter 8: James Potter
Summary:
This time:
James Potter recounts his first year at Hogwarts, his ambition to find himself a little sibling, and the flustered feeling he gets when he's around Regulus Black.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Beta: TheDisreputableDog
James Potter was born lucky.
Or maybe he was just lucky to be born.
When James was much younger, all he’d known for sure was that he was the only child of two wonderful parents. He lived in a grand house in Witcher’s Grove called Potter Manor near a pond that he could swim in and fields of spongy green grass that cushioned him when he fell off his children’s broom. He never wanted for toys and never had to share his parents’ attention, which was very lucky because James wasn’t very good at sharing.
“Why is there only one of me?” James had asked one day when he was five years old during an outing to the park where he’d first noticed that some couples had multiple children in tow while his mum and dad just had him.
His mum had smiled, smoothing his unruly coal hair and dropping a kiss to his forehead. “How could anyone ask for more than you? You’re by far enough for us, Jamie.”
Euphemia Potter, his mother, was a gifted healer specializing in potions accidents and poisons at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. With long silvering black hair and warm bottle-green eyes, she always had a smile for James, even at the end of a busy workday. Sometimes, she would return home much later than she was supposed to, looking very tired. When James asked her why that was, his mum explained that sometimes the people that came to visit her at the hospital had drunk something very bad and so she and her friends had to solve a bunch of puzzles to find out what they had swallowed. Sometimes that took a really long time.
Fleamont Potter, his knobby-kneed father, was like a one-man comedy show; the source of James’s mischievous nature and willing subject of many a prank. His hazel eyes sparkled like his son’s and his hands, constantly stained from his work brewing for the family company, Sleekeazy’s Hair Potions, were gentle that night he rubbed his wife’s back when she came home way past James’s bedtime.
His mum made a beeline past his hiding spot where he’d been waiting up for her, and began casting a series of heavy duty locking spells on the door to her husband’s potions lab.
“We treated a boy James’s age today,” she told his dad when she was finished. “He swallowed a bottle of Entrancing Tonic from his parents’ medicine cabinet. We worked on him for four hours, Monty.”
“Merlin rest his soul.”
“I want that lab under five locks at all times.”
“Consider it done, my love.”
“...He was the same age as our son. If anything were to happen to—”
“Now, now, dear, nothing’s going to happen to our boy…”
James retreated to his room, feeling unsettled.
As the years passed, the portrait of his family zoomed out to reveal a much more tragic picture.
As it turned out, James was not an only child by his parents’ choice, but rather a miracle that came after a long series of devastating miscarriages that ravaged the Potter line. He learned that pureblood couples frequently struggled to carry a baby, which James found surprising because babies were not very heavy at all.
When his Uncle Charlus and Aunt Dorea had first married, there had been a moment—a brief, shining one—wherein it seemed like James might gain a cousin; the closest thing to a little sibling he could get. But the years came and went and then one day his parents sat him down and explained in delicate terms that he needed to stop asking Aunt Dorea if she was having a baby soon because it was making her sad.
So James took matters into his own hands.
Every Samhein from then on, he wrote an impassioned plea to the wishing fire for a little sibling.
My mum says they’re trying to find me one, James wrote when he was eight years old, but I guess they’re having trouble.
It doesn’t have to be a younger sibling, James bartered when he was nine, realizing he might need to be a bit more flexible about this. I could have an older one if those are easier to make.
When he was ten, James nearly poked a hole in the parchment as he wrote his demands. It’s not fair! Why does everyone keep saying it’s complicated!? It’s just a kid! They’re all over the place! It can’t be that hard to find one for me!
And then James entered Hogwarts.
His first year at school was amazing. More than he could have ever dreamed of! He made fast friends on the train with three boys who later even ended up in the same house as him, but one of them was exactly the kind of person that he could picture having as a brother.
Sirius Black.
Of course, James got on with Remus too, who was still a bit of a mystery and disappeared one night in September only to end up in the hospital wing for several days, claiming he’d sleep-walked out through the common room and taken a nasty fall down a shifting staircase. He also enjoyed Peter’s company, who was rather shy but steadily opening up to them with occasional bursts of deadpan humor and a knack for sneaking around that surpassed even James himself. But Sirius was the coolest, funniest best mate James knew. Always down for a joke and full of ideas for pranks, James and Sirius quickly became inseparable.
“You should meet my little brother,” Sirius said, perking up on Samhain Eve when James was finishing up his Yule wish list to his parents—wishing fires, of course, not being real—and explaining his annual request for a sibling to him. A hot stab of envy sliced through James even as he hung on every word Sirius spoke describing him.
To hear Sirius tell it, Regulus Black was the best brother in the entire world. He was a lot smaller than Sirius, which meant Sirius had to protect him, and he looked up to Sirius, too, which meant he admired everything Sirius did and said.
“He’s going to be a first year next September,” Sirius concluded at the end of it, oblivious to James’s barely-contained jealousy that Sirius had acquired such a brother without even trying. “He’s going to be in Gryffindor and it’s going to be amazing.”
So James waited.
He adjusted his expectations.
He imagined Sirius and Regulus Black as his very own brothers, the three of them thick as thieves, committing pranks together and then helping Regulus with his homework. It took awhile for James to realize that he actually had no idea what Regulus Black looked like, and when he asked Sirius, the boy immediately lit up.
“Oh! Here, look—“
From the top drawer of his bedside table, he pulled a photo of two boys sitting together in an ornate library. It was a few years old, judging by the youth of the one who was clearly Sirius. In the picture, his best friend swung his legs energetically on the couch, then threw himself to the rug to roll around there.
The second boy, James saw, was petite and delicate with huge silver eyes that peered out from under thick raven curls. He sat very proper, like his mum had always told James to when they were taking family portraits, and he looked very sweet.
When James asked why Sirius didn’t keep that picture out all the time—James sure would if he had a brother to show off—Sirius just shrugged. “I guess I just don’t want anyone to ruin it. It doesn’t have a frame here.”
The first disharmony of their friendship occurred in the corridor outside the potions classroom while James and Sirius were waiting for Remus and Peter to finish their monthly written test.
James was feeling rather confident that he’d done well, but he’d taken out his potions textbook to look up his answer for the key ingredient for the Draught of the Living Death as they loitered. Sirius, who never seemed to need to put much effort into anything, seemed unconcerned with his results, instead choosing to complain about one of their Slytherin classmates, to whom he’d already taken an instant, intense dislike.
“I can’t stand Snape’s ugly mug giving me those stupid looks when he thinks he’s got one up on me. He’s not special. I could have finished the test faster if I wanted to, I just didn’t want to hang out here by myself with you lot still working on it.”
“Hm…”
“And he’s a nightmare, honestly! I don’t know why she partners with him!”
“Who?” James asked distractedly, trying to recall if he’d put wormwood for an answer or warmwood. His spelling wasn’t very good. Hopefully Slughorn wouldn’t take off points for that.
“Oh, I forgot her name... You know, the mudblood with the red hair.”
James almost dropped his book in shock.
It couldn’t be.
Surely he’d heard wrong.
He knew Sirius. Sirius got along with everyone—including Lily Evans, the girl to whom he referred. Sure, James knew that Sirius was from… a certain kind of family, but nothing he’d said or done before now had ever indicated that he was a bad person.
“I bet she feels sorry for him,” Sirius continued on in a completely normal tone, pulling a chocolate frog from his pocket and absentmindedly beginning to unwrap it. “Though I don’t see how. Snape’s such a slimy, miserable—“
“What did you say before?” James interrupted, his heart beating fast.
Please, please, please don’t say what I thought you said.
Sirius frowned, about to pop the candy in his mouth. “What? When?”
“Earlier, when you were describing that girl.”
“…The one with Snape?”
Oh for goodness sake! “Yes.”
He seemed to have to think about it, wrinkling his nose as he replayed their conversation in his head, unaware that James could feel their friendship about to shatter. “...The mudblood with the red hair? Why?” he added, alarmed as James gaped at him. “What’s wrong!?”
“What do you mean ‘what’s wrong?’ Merlin, Sirius, why would you say something like that?!”
Instead of replying at once, Sirius just looked inexplicably confused. He seemed to forget all about the frog, which took advantage of his bafflement by hopping out of his loosened fingers. “What on earth are you on about?”
“That word!”
“What word?”
James scowled at him. “Don’t play stupid, Sirius. I’m not kidding—”
“What word , James!?”
“You know.” The bespeckled boy looked nervously up and down the hall around them, checking for eavesdroppers. When he did speak the slur, it was in the lowest whisper he could muster. “Mudblood .”
James expected… well, he didn’t know. For Sirius to backtrack? Apologize? Double down? Certainly not for him to stare at James like he was the crazy one.
“You’re pulling my leg,” Sirius said finally, frowning. “What’s wrong with mudbloo—”
“Don’t say it!” James warned angrily. Some of his mum and dad’s friends were muggleborns; his tutor, his family’s gardener. “I’m serious, mate. Don’t say it again or we can’t be friends.”
Sirius seemed to know he meant it, too, because he didn’t try for that stupid joke about his name. He reared back, looking stricken. Like he didn’t know what to say or how to fix what he’d already said.
He looked… lost.
And that’s when James realized: Sirius really didn’t know.
“It’s a bad word,” he offered after a moment.
“Is it?” Sirius asked slowly.
“Yeah. It’s what bad people call muggleborns.”
Sirius seemed to contemplate this news as he twisted the ring on his left hand around in circles. He didn’t try to defend the term or justify himself to James, for which James was breathlessly thankful. A few of their classmates filtered out from the potions classroom in the meantime, hurrying away from the dungeons as quickly as possible in favor of lunch in the great hall.
Finally, Sirius spoke.
“My parents say mudblood is the same word as muggleborn. They’re synonyms.”
“They’re not,” James said firmly.
“Oh.” Sirius paused awkwardly. “I didn’t know that.”
“Have you ever heard the professors say… that word?”
Sirius thought that over. “No, actually.”
“What about our textbooks?”
“...No.”
A long, tense silence fell between them, broken at last by Peter stumbling out the door from their exam, Remus hot on his heels.
“Bloody hell, how about that last question on dragon’s blood?” Peter exclaimed immediately, scratching his scalp and stretching his neck. “I swear to Merlin, I couldn’t remember the last four uses of it for anything. I just kept staring at the parchment like it’d come to me, but it never did…”
He didn’t seem aware of the tension in the air, but Remus clearly was. It only took a moment for the sandy blond to flick his eyes between James and Sirius with a suspicious look on his face, waiting politely for Peter to finish speaking before asking, “Is everything alright?”
“Yes,” James said quickly, trying to reroute the conversation for the time being. “So what did you lot put for the timing of adding hawthorne to grade three healing draughts? I said two minutes after removing it from the fire, but who knows, really…”
Sirius was incredibly quiet for the rest of the day. James, however, was nearly vibrating with tension through every lesson, twice being told to tone it down when his Wand-Lighting Charm nearly blinded his entire row in charms. His nervous chatter overtook any peace and quiet that could be scrounged up between the four of them and he could tell he was starting to get on the other first years’ nerves.
“Bloody hell, Potter, I can’t hear myself think with you narrating every little thing that comes to mind!” Lily Evans burst out in the middle of dinner to fervent agreement from the other Gryffindor girls.
Sirius’s gaze honed in on her before dropping immediately to his plate.
The whole thing just made James even more nervous.
When he was tucked away in bed that night, he stared at the ceiling, wondering what he was supposed to do. Ask Sirius about it? Ask Remus or Peter? It felt a bit underhanded, consulting someone else before letting Sirius come to him, but—
“Hey, James,” he heard Sirius call softly from the bed next to him, beyond his closed burgundy curtains.
He bit his lip, clearing his throat a little. “Yeah, mate?”
“...I think my parents are one of those bad people.”
James sighed, turning on his side to stare sympathetically in Sirius’s direction. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s… well. It’s not exactly news. Can I… come over there?”
“Of course you can.”
There was a shuffling sound as Sirius rolled from his bed, hurried across the short space separating them, and fought his way through James’s curtains. He didn’t look him in the eye as he crawled into bed next to his friend, just burying his face in one of James’s extra pillows.
“Are you alright?” James asked after a while when it seemed right to do so.
Sirius gave a vague shrug, refusing to surface. “Aces, thanks.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“….I didn’t mean it like that, you know. I won’t say that word again. I like Evans and McDonald and our other friends. I would never hurt their feelings on purpose.”
“I know,” James assured him, even though he hadn’t.
Sirius finally popped his face out from the pillow. “It’s so different here. Sometimes it feels like I don’t know really obvious things that other people already do.”
That was a bit surprising to hear, considering how easy everything seemed to come to Sirius; always a natural, never trying.
“A lot of the muggleborns feel that way too. You guys actually have that in common.”
“I guess so. It would have been really bad if I’d said… you know… in front of anyone else. I just… didn’t know.”
“Well, now you do,” James said encouragingly, squinting at him in the dark. “It’ll stay a secret between just us, okay?”
“Thanks, James,” Sirius said, still quite subdued.
Now that he understood the situation a bit better, James decided that he didn’t want Sirius to be sad about this anymore. Not at all. It was done, wasn’t it? Sirius had learned and seemed genuinely sorry. Certainly he wouldn’t say something like that again.
The urge to cheer his best friend up was irrepressible.
“Is there anything that would make you feel better?” James asked, searching his brain for ideas. “Candy? Exploring? Oh! We could sneak out, just you and me!”
Unfortunately, Sirius did not seem to share his enthusiasm. The other boy just shook his head, turning on his side away from James with his legs tucked to his chest.
“No, it’s okay mate. I’m tired, I’ll sleep.”
“There has to be something,” James persisted. “Don’t beat yourself up about it anymore. What would help?”
It didn’t seem like Sirius would answer at first, but then in a very soft whisper as he hugged his legs like they were another person, he did.
“Regulus. I just want Regulus.”
A month passed.
“You aren’t going home?” James demanded, aghast, when Sirius revealed his winter break plans to stay at the castle alone that December. He was slowly starting to understand something about why Sirius looked so nervous whenever the topic of his homelife came up, but still, Sirius had an entire brother there waiting for him. How could he even think of staying at school?
“I can’t,” Sirius deferred curtly. He’d taken to carrying his picture of him and Regulus around in his pocket, taking it out at odd times with an anxious look on his face that James didn’t understand.
“Why? Is it because—“
“I just can’t.”
One day, just a fortnight before the train would bring students back to their families for Yule, Sirius’s picture went missing.
It was terrible.
He ripped their room apart looking for it, and even though James, Remus, and Peter tried to help, it was like Sirius was on a different planet where it wasn’t just a picture missing, but Regulus Black himself. Sirius alternated between getting on his hands and knees to search under beds and nightstands for it and sitting on the floor with his thighs pulled up to his chest, pressing his forehead to his knees. Peter, in a moment of brilliance, fetched a sixth year prefect who helpfully cast a Summoning Spell for them after listening closely to James’s urgent description of the photo. When nothing appeared, the prefect looked sympathetic.
“It’s not here, lads. Can you mum send you a replacement copy?”
Sirius looked very closed-off at this question but thanked the boy politely anyway, disappearing into his bed when he’d gone, and drawing his curtains to do some proper sulking.
A few days later, James felt a vat of ice slide into his stomach when Severus Snape held up the missing photo in charms class while Flitwick had stepped out and set it on fire.
Sirius had disliked Snape before, but James was pretty sure that that’s when he truly began to hate the Slytherin. James couldn’t believe how pissed off Sirius was, sending Stinging Hex after Petrifying Curse after Vertigo Hex at Snape until he forwent his wand altogether and punched the awful boy in the face until James, Remus, and Peter pulled him off.
That marked Sirius’s first detention.
“You should come home with me,” James suggested on a whim the day before the train was set to take them away.
Sirius snorted. He seemed to have mostly moved past the photo incident but was still very gloomy in general. “What? Seriously?”
“Yes!” The more James thought about it, the more he liked the idea. He didn’t know how he was meant to go back to the silent halls of Potter Manner after such an epic three months, playing by himself in the gardens and pretending the gnomes in the hedges were his friends. “My mum would love it!”
And she did.
With a bit of fibbing, James managed to convince his parents that Sirius was told to stay at school for the winter holidays. It was sort of a crazy lie for anyone to believe, since James knew from personal experience that parents loved having their kids around, but his mum had written back saying she wasn’t surprised, considering how Sirius’s sorting had gone, and, oh, what size jumper was he these days?
It seemed like Sirius was jumping at shadows when they pulled into Platform 9 ¾. He kept eying the crowd like he expected a monster to emerge from it, but it was just James’s mum and dad. Sirius seemed weirdly nervous around Euphemia Potter, watching her carefully when she drew her wand to shrink their trunks at the train station landing and only relaxing when she stowed it away. He seemed less wary of Fleamont Potter, though he said very little to either of them at first.
As the days went by and James’s parents persisted in their welcome, however, Sirius slowly seemed to relax a little more. He still held strangely still if James’s mum sounded cross and didn’t seem to want to sit too close to James’s dad at the dinner table, but that was alright. Besides all this odd behavior, having Sirius at Potter Manor was like having the brother he always wanted. During the day, they raced up and down the stately halls, laughing and calling out for each other. They had the portraits shouting at their antics so often that James’s dad had to come upstairs from his potions lab one day and institute a new rule that if they were to roughhouse, they were to do it away from Great Uncle Hercules, please and thank you.
It was like every day was the best day; like his wishes had finally been granted. Everything was perfect and happy and bright.
That was, until the sun set.
James didn’t understand why, but when the sky turned black, Sirius became terribly melancholic. He would smooth out and read every letter Regulus had ever sent him over the school year, studying each one until the early hours of the morning. Sometimes James would find him curled up on the couch near the sitting room fire downstairs, where the floo connection was. Sirius never actually tried to leave, but James knew he thought about it; thought about Regulus.
Suddenly, James didn’t know who to be jealous of anymore. All he knew was that now everything was Regulus this or Regulus that.
James was telling his dad about his strong marks on his latest potions essay? Well, Regulus was doing so well with his tutors that he’d surely run circles around everyone when he got to Hogwarts.
James got new glasses with a stronger prescription? Well, Regulus could see incredibly far away and he didn’t even need glasses to do it.
James wanted to sneak treats from the kitchen? Well, apparently Regulus had him beat there too, because Regulus could sweet talk even their parents' incredibly grouchy, ancient house-elf who refused to listen to Sirius, and convince him to make the most delicious blackberry cobbler in the world.
James was getting really sick of competing with Regulus Bloody Black.
Potter Yule was a small affair, composed of the four residents of the house, James’s Aunt Dorea and Uncle Charlus, and a smattering of family friends, coworkers, and neighbors. James’s parents had set out a wishing fire station for the little kids to write their last-minute wishes, and even though he knew that Sirius knew wishing fires weren’t real, he still caught Sirius writing a short note.
I wish Regulus was here.
Sirius found James an hour later, hiding outside by the pond with his knees drawn up to his chin and feeling sorry for himself. Never in his life had James been deemed not enough. To be judged and found wanting by his best friend—the boy he considered a brother—was distressing in a way he couldn’t articulate even to himself. Sirius didn’t ask if James was okay, just settled down next to him, tucking his knees in the same way and staring out into the dark water.
“I’m not very good company, am I?” Sirius asked after a moment.
James blinked, turning to look at him. “I—no—“
“Cut the shit, James. I’ve been a nightmare of a friend. And I’m sorry, it’s just…” Sirius chewed his lip, flattening his legs until he was sitting cross-legged on his expensive dress robes, facing James. “I lied to my brother. I told him I was sick and staying at school, but I’m not. I’m here, having the best time with my best friend, and he’s stuck in that house.”
James slowly moved to mirror Sirius’s position. “So that’s what this is all about? You’re feeling guilty?”
“I am guilty,” Sirius replied more solemnly than any eleven year old James had ever met.
James didn’t know what to say, but he tried anyway. “Why didn’t you want to go home in the first place?”
“Because I hate it there.”
“But your brother is there,” James pointed out.
“Yes,” Sirius agreed, picking up a rock and throwing it into the center of the pond. “And he’s better off without me coming around riling our parents up.”
James sat quietly as they both watched the ripples emanate from the place where the stone had hit the water. Finally he asked, “Can you tell me about Regulus again?”
And Sirius did.
He told James about how they did everything together: tutors, flying, and even punishments—though this, Sirius kept very vague. He told James that Regulus was so, so smart. How he had tricked their mother out of the howler she’d sent the day after he was sorted into Gryffindor, risking her wrath so Sirius wouldn’t be embarrassed in front of the whole school.
Sirius’s mum didn’t sound very nice.
Somewhere in the course of telling this story, Sirius began to cry. Really, honestly sob into James’s best Yule robes, his shoulders shaking and breaking James’s heart with the depth of his sorrow. James held his best friend through it, rubbing his back like his dad always did when James was upset and making little cooing sounds to soothe him. He knew that sometimes, just like with Aunt Dorea’s baby, there wasn’t anything you could say. But he could sit quietly while his mum was comforting his crying aunt next door and he could sit quietly while Sirius was bawling his eyes out over his little brother.
After what seemed like a very long time, Sirius pulled back, scrubbing at his eyes with his sleeve and clearing his throat. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” James replied immediately. “You’re upset. You’re allowed to be upset.”
Sirius sniffed but didn’t really look like he believed him. “I miss him all the time. I just want him back.”
They didn’t speak for a few minutes, but James didn’t stop his plan of sitting quietly; not for a minute. Instead, he used the time to come to an armistice with the ghostly legend of Regulus Black, who he found he didn’t resent; couldn’t, when he was brave enough to stand up to his parents in Sirius’s name.
Eventually, Sirius looked at him. “I think I feel a little better.”
“That’s good. Sometimes you have to cry about sad things, Sirius. Because they’re really, really sad.”
Sirius nodded very slightly, pulling himself to his feet with a last swipe at his eyes. He didn’t seem to want to discuss the situation any further. “Yeah. Let’s go inside.”
James complied.
Back at Hogwarts, James was almost haunted by his renewed desire to meet Regulus Black face-to-face.
Do I want to be his friend?
His brother?
Do I want to be him?
James didn’t know, which only fed his obsession. So when the end of the year finally arrived and James was all but vibrating out of his skin to introduce himself on Platform 9 ¾, he was startled when Sirius pulled him aside and asked very seriously that he not interact with Regulus at all.
“What? Why?”
“It’s going to be bad enough,” Sirius said darkly as the students around them began filing off the train. He was fiddling with that heir ring on his finger too, which he only did when he was nervous but unwilling to admit it. “Just… please, James. Don’t look.”
And because James was a good friend, he wrestled his curiosity and didn’t.
It all came to a head that day in Diagon Alley, when he tackled Sirius enthusiastically after a long series of summer days spent in the agonizingly quiet halls of Potter Manor. He missed the cheerful times they’d spent together over winter break and found himself unable to tolerate silence now that he knew what it was to have friends. Everyone was so busy, though. Peter mostly spent his time visiting his older sister in America, Remus’s mother was poorly and required Remus’s presence, and the Blacks apparently did not think very highly of light families like the Potters, forbidding Sirius from visiting. He was so excited to see Sirius that he almost didn’t notice who was accompanying him. As much as he still thought of Regulus and imagined their introduction, he wasn’t actually prepared to meet the boy he’d heard so much about.
Oh, was James’s first thought when he spotted Regulus Black staring up at him. He was small, like Sirius had said, and looked a bit like a doll with big silver eyes and a fluff of dark curls. James didn’t know why, but he felt oddly flustered all of a sudden.
He’s so pretty.
But Regulus didn’t speak and James didn’t know what to do to initiate an interaction. He orbited around the younger boy in a nervous sort of excitement, trying to think of something to say or do that might make Regulus notice him more.
In the end, Sirius dragged his little brother away and James didn’t get to talk to Regulus at all.
“Do you think he liked me?” James asked apropos of nothing at dinner that night.
He knew it was rude to interrupt, but he’d been waiting impatiently for a lull in his parents’ conversation about the new Azkaban Reform Bill for nearly ten minutes now. It was honestly the most boring thing he had ever heard of.
James’s topic was much more interesting.
“Who do you mean, Jamie?” his mother asked, serving herself a second slice of cheesecake.
“Regulus.”
“Well I’m sure he did.”
“Then why didn’t he talk to me?”
His parents shared one of those frustrating adult looks that meant James was missing something. “I don’t think Sirius was letting him say much to anyone,” his father pointed out. “It likely wasn’t about you, Jamie.”
“Why didn’t Sirius let him talk to me?”
“The million-galleon question,” his mum murmured. She paused, then set her cutlery down. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you, Jamie—does Sirius ever talk much about… his family?”
James frowned. “Yes, he talks about Regulus all the time.”
“What about his mum or dad?”
Sirius hadn’t seemed to miss them at all over the school year, even when their peers—including James—began sniveling with homesickness within the first week of arriving. James struggled to remember him saying anything that pertained to his parents, really.
Well, except one thing.
“He said his mum sent him a howler for getting into Gryffindor. Regulus had to protect him from it. Usually Sirius has to protect Regulus, but that time Regulus did the protecting.”
“What do they usually protect each other from?” his dad asked carefully.
There was something weird about this conversation but James couldn’t put his finger on it. His parents seemed oddly grim about it, even though James hadn’t said anything particularly bad. They also already knew Walburga and Orion Black, if distantly, having attended some of the same pureblood high society events. So why were they asking James?
“Am I in trouble?” he asked, just in case.
His mother smiled at him. “No, darling. We just want to know about your friends.”
Honestly, James didn’t really have much to offer though. Sirius only made vague references to his home life, unless it was to talk about his favorite person in the world. At last, James shrugged, reaching for another dinner roll as he answered the original question. “Punishments. I think that’s why he hates going home.”
“What kinds of punishments?”
James wrinkled his nose. “I dunno. Why?”
His dad just smiled, folding his fingers together on the tabletop. “No reason. Say, what if we all played a board game tonight? I think we should.”
“Yes!” James jumped to his feet, abandoning his last few bites and the entire conversation. “I’m picking! I’m picking the game!”
“Go on, then. Your mum and I will just have a chat and be there soon.”
The second time James encountered Regulus, it was on the train platform as he rushed to return to his parents to say his final goodbyes. They’d gotten caught up in conversation with Mrs. Pettigrew, so James had elected to run on the train to stash his trunk in the meantime. On his way back out, he nearly ran into Sirius and Regulus, the latter clutching a fistful of his brother’s robes.
“That’s so cute,” he could help but blurt out, and there was that nervous-excited feeling settling right back into his stomach like it’d never left.
Regulus was still very pretty.
Suddenly, James couldn’t remember if he’d brushed his hair that morning, or if he was wearing nice robes or not. He tried to shake off the strange bout of self-consciousness by reaching up and ruffling his hair to make it a bit more windswept, like the professional quidditch players on the front of magazines.
Neither of the Black brothers seemed to notice, though, and James was able to pull it together enough to act normally for the rest of the trip. He tried to start a conversation with Regulus, and felt a rare bout of annoyance at Sirius for repeatedly answering for him.
“I wonder,” said Remus, who was always much less inclined to walk on eggshells around their friend, “if we’ll get to hear Regulus speak at some point without you interrupting him.”
And Merlin bless you too, mate.
Sirius looked startled, like it had never occurred to him to let Regulus answer for himself, but adjusted quickly, nodding. “Go on, kid.”
James leaned slightly forward.
Regulus’s voice was soft and his words were very quiet, but at least he was talking. Some words seemed to sit oddly on his tongue, like it couldn’t quite twist around them, but they came out in a smooth cadence with perhaps the faintest trace of a French accent that sometimes could be heard from Sirius too. Regulus was polite and calm, unfazed as James tussled with Sirius on the floor of their compartment or when his brother started dragging him off the train, marching him over to where Hagrid, the Gamekeeper, was collecting the first years for their customary trip across the Black Lake.
“You didn’t let us say goodbye!” James complained when Sirius walked back over to where they were standing a respectful distance away.
Sirius rolled his eyes, striding past them. “He’ll be sitting with us all through dinner. Relax.”
Despite his own advice, James could tell that Sirius wasn’t very relaxed at all. His leg bounced on his knee the entire carriage ride to Hogwarts and he looked downright nauseous as they sat in their new second year seats at the Gryffindor table, watching the first years moving down the center aisle towards the sorting hat. Regulus was smaller than any of the other boys by far.
“Hang in there, mate,” Peter whispered bracingly, offering up an encouraging smile. “He’ll make Gryffindor, no problem.”
“How do you know?” Sirius demanded, fiddling with his ring, then his hair, then the tablecloth. “You’ve not met him before today!”
“Because we could all write an essay on Regulus Black by now from the many sermons you’ve given,” Remus informed him. “Believe me, we know. He’d follow you anywhere.”
Except he didn’t.
“SLYTHERIN!”
James was shocked.
So was everyone else.
Sirius didn’t speak at first, which was concerning. He craned his neck around Remus to follow Regulus’s progress towards his new house with his eyes, a stormy expression brewing on his face.
“Sit down!” Remus hissed when Sirius half-stood, as though about to walk over and steal his little brother back. “Don’t make a scene, Sirius!”
“He’s supposed to sit here!” They all looked over at the seat Sirius had carefully reserved on his right hand side for Regulus’s inevitable sorting.
“Okay, I get you’re upset…”
Remus spent the next few moments talking Sirius off a cliff with the occasional interjection of support from James and Peter. He extracted a promise from Sirius not to do anything overtly crazy, but Sirius stared at him throughout the whole ordeal like Remus was denying him his Morgana-given rights.
When the feast appeared, Remus finally told him he was throwing a tantrum.
“I am not!” Sirius answered immediately.
Remus, who could win an award for being the least susceptible to Sirius’s nifflershit out of all of them, shook his head. “Oh yes you are. You can be upset, but don’t call Regulus a slimy snake. That’s just mean.”
James glanced across the hall, noting that Regulus seemed to be doing… alright. He wasn’t eating but he seemed to be interacting with his new housemates well enough. James recognized Dorcas Meadowes, as they both lived in Witcher’s Grove, and Barty Crouch Jr., whose family ran in many of the same light-aligned social circles as his parents. He didn’t really know the brunet boy on Regulus’s left hand side, however, though it looked like they knew each other.
James didn’t understand it.
Regulus just looked so sweet; not like the sort of person that would enjoy grappling for power and underhanded maneuvering. Sirius had always talked about him like Regulus was his shadow—never far away and constantly in Sirius’s orbit, harmonizing perfectly with his thoughts and actions; the perfect little brother.
What the hell happened?
James couldn’t seem to stop himself from glancing hopefully over at the Slytherin table the morning after the sorting, trying to shelve his disappointment that Regulus wouldn’t be sharing his house. He knew that Sirius was upset—that he felt betrayed by his little brother not following him to Gryffindor—but he was still stunned when Sirius confronted him in the hallway later that day and called him a shit little brother.
As it turned out, Regulus wasn’t as sweet and agreeable as Sirius had always said.
“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want me to stand aside so you could hex my friends?” Regulus snapped.
“Your friend is a tosser!” Sirius tried to justify himself.
“No, you are Sirius! Just leave us alone!”
“Sirius! What the hell was that!?” James exclaimed when the interaction was over, looking between the two brothers separating from each other in distress. Sirius was supposed to be making up with Regulus, not making things worse .
Sirius scowled, looking moody and like it had been Regulus who had yelled at him and cursed his friends rather than the other way around. “Mind your own business.”
Well, Sirius clearly didn’t realize that it was James’s business. Besides, Sirius was being an absolute ingrate, in James’s opinion. He had begged his parents for a sibling for years, and here was Sirius just tossing his aside!
How is this fair?
“He’s just a kid, mate,” Peter tried when Sirius spent all of History of Magic stabbing his notes moodily with the edge of his quill. “Are you sure you needed to do all that?”
“Why? You think I was being unreasonable?”
“You are being unreasonable,” Remus interjected firmly, not pausing from his note-taking. “You’re upset that he isn’t doing everything you say. Moreover, I don’t even think you’re really angry with him. You’re just scared he’s going to abandon you, so you’re abandoning him first.”
James frowned. “What? No, that can’t be right. That’s completely stupid.”
The flush on Sirius’s face, however, was very telling.
Apparently stalking was how Sirius intended to fix things because he took to staring at Regulus from across the great hall during meals and popping up in places he knew Regulus would be. At first, it just seemed to make Regulus more irritated with him, but James had to admit that his best mate was nothing if not determined.
“For Merlin’s sake,” Remus sighed as Sirius bolted from dinner in pursuit of his little brother. “This is getting to be a bit much.”
James shrugged, knowing that Remus was actually just dreading the dejected look that Sirius always returned with.
“Maybe this time…” Peter trailed off.
And miraculously, things did seem to get better. Not all at once, mind you, but in little looks; little glances shared in hallways. Sirius seemed irrepressibly drawn to finding excuses to order Regulus around, and Regulus seemed to be in the habit of letting him.
Life moved on.
“Slimy git!”
“Inbred twig!”
“Hook-nosed cretin!”
James held his mahogany wand aloft, jittery as he watched Sirius and Severus Snape fling insults at one another in the transfiguration corridor. His wand’s core thrummed with energy, matching the beat of his heart.
“Mahogany with dragon heartstring, 11 inches. Swishy, suited for transfiguration,” Ollivander had said when James had encountered it in his store with his parents. “I’ve never met a witch or wizard with more protective instincts than those wielding mahogany wood. Be sure your allegiance is rightly placed, Mr. Potter.”
Allegiance.
Bloody hell, that was the right word for it, too.
“How’s your little brother settling in then, Black?” Snape asked unexpectedly.
James couldn’t stop himself from straightening up.
Fuck , he thought as Snape’s gaze immediately clocked it. Showing weakness in front of any Slytherin was a bad idea, but certainly this Slytherin in particular.
To anyone who didn’t know him well, Sirius would have seemed quite unaffected. He didn’t flinch or react in any obvious way to the suddenly very personal attack, but James could see the tightening of his fist behind his back. “Running circles around you , I’m sure.”
“You’re sure?” Snape echoed with humor. “We’re all wondering down in Slytherin, is it hereditary? The Black family madness, I mean. Should we expect him to start frothing at the mouth soon? Should we get him a muzzle?”
Oh no, James thought. Don’t react, Sirius!
But it was a lost cause.
“Leave him fucking be or I’ll show you madness!”
“But even if he was mad,” Snape continued on, looking darkly vindicated. “He’s not much of a threat, is he? He’s the size of a bloody doll.”
Sirius snapped.
The Boil Curse and Hives Hex hit, but as Professor McGonagall yanked open her door with a frown, James knew Sirius had not been the one to win this round.
“Mr. Black! Come here at once! I won’t have students hexing each other in the hallways!”
Sirius looked furious as he stomped forward, ignoring the snickers of the second year Slytherins even as one of them dragged Snape away.
“Three weeks of detention and a letter home to my mother,” Sirius reported when the rest of the class was allowed to finally file in and James, Remus, and Peter hurried to settle into their seats surrounding him. “Plus, I have to write an apology to the stupid git.”
“But Madam Pomfery will have him fixed up in an hour or two!” James protested, disbelieving of the harsh sentence. “Isn’t that a bit much?”
“McGonagall said she can’t seem to get through to me any other way,” Sirius answered darkly. “Well, I’d bloody do it again. And if he actually has a go at Reggie, I’ll do something a lot worse than those stupid spells.”
“Why don’t we organize a prank on Slytherin?” Remus proposed quickly, clearly trying to redirect Sirius’s energy towards something less destructive. “For a bit of payback against Snape. Something light. You’d have to be hands-off, Sirius, just in case. Let McGonagall cool off on you a bit…”
They had yet to play a prank for the current school year so the four boys spent Transfiguration passing a piece of parchment among them detailing a Viridian Charm-based Bubble Speech Spell. It dispelled Sirius’s foul mood quickly, bringing smiles and laughter behind his hands with the rest of them. He glanced occasionally at Remus with strangely soft looks that James couldn’t quite interpret except to reflect that Remus might actually have him beat today as Sirius Black’s favorite person.
Still, no one would ever have Regulus Black beat for that title on any day. One afternoon, Regulus came right up to the four Gryffindors as they were loitering around the castle and asked Sirius straight up: are wishing fires real, yes or no?
Sirius had tried to deny it.
It was sweet, is what it was. Sirius wanted to keep Regulus carefree and believing in made up magic, and he’d shown up looking so fragile that James would have wanted that for him too, but it wouldn’t have been best in the long-run and they all knew it.
So Sirius told the truth, even though he didn’t want to.
“Why did you do it?” James heard Regulus ask very faintly from what little he could make out of their conversation. He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but… okay, he was sort of trying to eavesdrop. He needed to know if Regulus would be okay, and that didn’t seem like such a terrible thing to want.
“I was protecting you,” Sirius answered simply.
“You can’t protect me from everything.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Too right, James thought, a fierce need rushing through him to declare it too.
But this wasn’t the time or the place, so he pasted a pleasant smile on as the brothers returned and concentrated on acting normal as he began asking questions about how Regulus’s year was progressing.
Maybe James should have seen it coming.
Clearly he’d underestimated Sirius’s commitment to sparing Regulus from distressing conversations, because when he and his friends rounded a corner in the dungeons on their way back from seeing Slughorn, he was taken aback by Regulus Black’s voice saying: “Watch where you’re going, mudblood.”
He expected that slur from someone like Snape, Malfoy, or Lestrange, but certainly not Regulus.
The Hufflepuff first year that had crashed into him escaped as soon as she’d rightened herself, fleeing the mocking laughter of Crouch and Rosier, Regulus’s stupid friends who flanked him as always. Meadowes, the only one of Regulus’s group that James thought he could actually like, was nowhere to be seen.
“REGULUS FUCKING BLACK!”
Sirius looked absolutely furious. It was actually a bit scary to watch him reach up and yank his brother in by the tie. He wasn’t gentle about it either.
James had to resist the urge to stop him.
The conversation that followed was like a mirror to his own with Sirius when they’d had their confrontation about this very same word.
“Don’t you ever say that word again!” Sirius hissed. “Did you hear me!?”
“What word?”
“Don’t play stupid!”
“...You mean mudblood? Why? You say that all the time at home—”
James grimaced as Remus and Peter stiffened beside him. So much for keeping that a secret. Sirius was clearly embarrassed by his brother revealing this piece of shameful behavior and reacted by pulling on his neck even harder. He seemed to regain his wits when Regulus told him he was in pain, but stormed off in such short order that James, Remus, and Peter had to jog to keep up with him.
“You say ‘mudblood’ at home!?” Remus repeated Regulus’s accusation when they’d made it a sufficient distance away, ducking into a secret passage behind three stone columns. He looked like he wasn’t quite ready to believe that but also unable to dismiss the accusation entirely.
“I don’t!” he snapped back, pacing the room with a distinctly unsettled air about him. “Not anymore. I didn’t even know what it meant!”
“Your brother throws it around like he knows exactly what it means,” Remus replied darkly.
“Does he?” James asked delicately.
“He shouldn’t have been alone with mother and father for a whole year,” Sirius ignored the question, twisting the ring on his hand rapidly in circles. “I shouldn’t have left him—”
“Did you guys talk about this?” James clarified.
“Yes,” Sirius insisted. “I told him we don't use that word anymore!”
“Did you happen to say why?”
Sirius scowled. “When I tell him something, he just needs to do it. I don’t need to explain everything to him!”
This was one of those rare moments where James could feel himself getting genuinely annoyed by Sirius. He didn’t often act the part of an entitled snob, but every now and then he’d do or say something that reminded James that the Blacks were one of the wealthiest and most influential families in the wixen world. Sirius wasn't used to being questioned or explaining himself because people probably just let him do whatever occurred to him.
“Look,” Peter began, brokering their peace, “Sirius didn’t say it. That’s what's important. And Regulus… well, he needs a talking-to, but not right now.”
“Well I’m not talking to him,” their dark-haired friend announced stubbornly. “He needs to learn his lesson, so I’m not speaking to him until he apologizes.” Sirius paused. “But you lot can’t let me anywhere near him because I’ll cave for sure.”
Sure enough, Sirius made it less than twelve hours before folding like a lawn chair—and considering they’d been asleep for most of it, James didn’t think it really even counted as a proper protest. Sirius stormed over to the Slytherin table the next morning after pretending for several minutes to ignore the delivery of what was very obviously a broom, picked a fight with his brother’s friends, then landed a few insults. At least, that’s what it looked like from the Gryffindor table, from which James, Remus, and Peter had staunchly refused to move.
“He’s a bloody nightmare!” Sirius exclaimed the second he was back in earshot as the three boys exchanged meaningful looks. “He didn’t even speak to me! Unbelievable!”
“Yes,” Remus agreed, serving himself from the sausage dish, “unbelievable is definitely the word for you two.”
Sirius seemed to learn from his error because he avoided Regulus religiously from then on. The Gryffindor boys went about their week with a tense sort of efficiency, walking on eggshells whenever the Slytherin was in line of sight and creating distractions when it looked like Sirius was about to give in again and go talk to him.
James was pathetically grateful when Regulus voluntarily presented himself to them in the library a few days later, since he honestly didn’t think he or Sirius could keep this up for much longer.
“Why am I being punished?” Regulus began, and boy didn’t that say something about the Black brothers’ relationship that just a few days of silence was considered a full-on sentencing.
Sirius made a strong showing, but James already knew that he had no long-term skill at being mean to his little brother.
It took a few exchanges between them for James to realize that the situation was even stupider than he’d thought. Merlin, these two! For all Sirius was obsessed with his little brother, he sure didn’t seem to read him very well. Regulus wasn’t a bigot , he was a little kid parroting back things he’d heard his whole life! And Sirius, who it seemed would do just about anything to spare Regulus from the harsh realities of the world, seemed completely unwilling to admit that he’d failed him.
“He’s surrounded by your parents all the time and apparently you didn’t talk to him about it!” James told him irritably. Honestly, James needed to be Regulus’s second big brother at this point because Sirius just had no spine to speak of when it came to him.
So they talked.
Regulus was a good kid. He listened carefully and seemed to accept their criticism with impressive maturity for an eleven year old. Other than a few brief questions, he mainly just accepted what he was told and settled into a chair nearby when Peter invited him to study with them.
James had no hope of focusing on his defense essay now.
“Sorry,” Sirius said after a minute and James could count on one hand how many times he’d heard him apologize for anything. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, when I pulled on your tie in the hallway.”
“It’s okay—“
“It's not. You were scared of me. I could tell and I did it anyway.”
There was some sort of tension surrounding that. James had never considered that Regulus might have a reason to be afraid of someone putting their hands on him, but he really hoped there wasn’t anything more to it than Sirius had pulled too hard and he was sorry for it.
Anyway, things were good now. The brothers were getting along, and James was doing what he did best: pranking.
They’d decided on a general bit of harmless nonsense this time. As his mates covered for him, James pretended to have need of the restroom, slipping down from their Defense lesson to the entrance hall. He cast Replication Charm after Replication Charm on the suits of armor guarding it, filling the entire room with huge adult-sized battle mannequins until there was barely space to squeeze by.
Grinning to himself, he trotted back the way he’d come, speeding up when he heard the castle caretaker, Filch, give a distant scoff of fury as he ascended the grand staircase by twos. James hustled along to the second floor bathroom to cement his alibi, slipping through the door and closing it quickly behind him. Pressing his ear to the door with his breath held, James released it in a gleeful laugh after a few seconds of silence.
Another feather in Gryffindor’s cap!
Turning on his heel to actually use the bathroom, he nearly jumped out of his skin upon realizing he was being watched; watched by the same set of dove-gray eyes that he often hoped watched him too.
“Oh,” James breathed, feeling his heart give a little flutter. “Hello there.”
It was Regulus Black.
Notes:
Next time:
Regulus encounters James Potter alone for the first time and begins to feel distinctly replaced.
-
Thank you to TheDisreputableDog for coming on as my beta reader! 💞 What a hero!
- villain
Chapter 9: Fortress
Summary:
This time:
Regulus encounters James Potter alone for the first time and begins to feel distinctly replaced.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Beta: TheDisreputableDog
December
Regulus did not enjoy herbology.
It was, in fact, his least favorite subject. He didn’t like the dirt under his nails, how hard it was to hear anyone with so many voices ricocheting off the greenhouse walls, or the plants they were currently working with.
“Okay, students, be sure to be careful with those sheers–”
“I just think you should have come with us to watch Black mess up during beater tryouts,” Barty told Evan, pruning his shrivelfig bush a little too closely. He was crouched low and squinting between the leaves as he recounted Sirius’s frankly ill-advised attempt at earning a spot on the Gryffindor team last week.
Regulus wasn’t especially enjoying this conversation, either.
Sirius’s tryout had been incredibly stressful. Regulus had been hailed immediately by his brother’s Gryffindor friends upon entering the stands, Potter and Pettigrew pleading for his presence while Lupin smiled pleasantly. It had been quite tense when Barty and Dorcas purposefully began to stir the cauldron by loudly nitpicking every move each of the hopefuls made—especially Sirius, whose nerves had clearly bested him early on. Potter and Barty were nearly moved to violence on several occasions, only halted by Regulus’s irritable reprimands.
“I told you, I don’t care about quidditch.”
“Oh, it wasn’t quidditch, I promise you that,” Barty replied. “I’m not even sure Black was playing a recognized sport.”
Okay, that’s it. No one shit talks Sirius but me.
“Merlin, will you just shut up , Bar— ouch !” Regulus hissed, dropping his pruning shears abruptly. Blood welled up from where his shrivelfig had lanced his dirt-encrusted thumb with a hidden stinger, producing a dull, distant throbbing.
Bloody herbology!
Still, he would have willingly suffered worse to get Barty to change the subject. “You okay, Reg?”
“Professor! Regulus got stuck!”
Professor Sprout arrived at his shoulder in short order. “Oh dear, you sure did. Your bush still has a stinger on it! I had the sixth years harvest them all before you lot got ahold of them but apparently they missed one. How are you feeling, Mr. Black?”
“Great,” he snarked, his mood souring further. “I wish this happened to me all the time.”
“The venom can take a good twenty minutes to kick in. Plenty of time for you to toddle up to the hospital wing for some sting salve.”
“I can go with him,” Barty volunteered immediately.
“Nice try, Mr. Crouch, but Mr. Black still has good use of his legs and your shrivelfig looks ghastly! I want symmetry !”
“I’ll see you guys at dinner,” Regulus muttered, backing away from the table to sling his book bag onto his shoulder.
“You’re sure you’re ok?” Dorcus verified. Evan paused his movements to await the answer too.
“Yeah, I just need to wash my hands and get the dirt off.”
“And go to the hospital wing!”
Regulus departed without confirming that, pretending not to hear.
His entire life, his mother had drilled into him that healers were not his friends and he should never speak to one without her present. They would take his blood, she warned; would tie him to a bed and never let him leave.
Sirius had always said their mother was batshit crazy, however, and lied more than she ever told the truth. He had written to Regulus in his first year, explaining in thrilling detail how he had twisted his ankle in a daring escape from the caretaker after curfew, only to find his foot swollen and purple the next morning. His friends had insisted on bringing him to the school healer, ignoring his protests, and Madam Pomfrey had fixed him up in short order.
No blood, no force , he had written; had promised. So don’t believe our mad mother. Healers are okay .
Still… Regulus didn’t feel like trying it out for himself.
His temper had mellowed significantly by the time he turned to leave the second floor restroom. He’d just scrubbed the dirt off his hands with soap and water when James Potter hurtled into the room, slamming the door behind him, and pressing his ear to the wood. He listened intently for a few seconds before finally letting out a triumphant laugh.
What on earth is he doing? Regulus wondered, startled. He didn’t speak, though, unable to figure out how to break the silence when Potter didn’t seem to know he was even there.
The Gryffindor must have noticed his reflection in one of the mirrors, however, because he suddenly jumped, spinning around to face him.
“Merlin, Reg! You scared me!”
Regulus thought that was somewhat unfair, considering Potter was the one bursting into bathrooms and slamming doors. It felt like they’d been steadily seeing more of each other in the past few weeks. They would randomly encounter one another in hallways or when one was leaving a classroom and the other was just arriving. Each time, the Gryffindor would light up at the sight of him, his warm hazel eyes and dashing grin projecting such delight at Regulus’s presence that it made him fight back a smile of his own.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” Potter snapped his fingers in delight. “Are you skiving?”
Regulus’s eyes widened indignantly. “No, of course not!”
“Do you want to?”
A rush of butterflies filled his stomach. “To…?”
“Skive, of course!”
“That’s not allowed,” he answered automatically.
“Sure it is!”
Potter looked like bottled sunshine with his bright grin and energetic personality, always seeming happy for no particular reason. An attitude like that in the Black household was just asking to be hexed, but here at Hogwarts, it was… pleasant.
Regulus was just working up the nerve to decline more firmly when Potter suddenly seized his hand.
“Oh! What happened there, Reg?”
For a moment, Regulus wasn’t sure what he was referring to. All he could think on repeat was that the older boy was holding his hand .
“I was stung by a bush,” he answered after a beat when he remembered what had brought him into the bathroom in the first place.
“Oh!” Potter brightened. He let go of Regulus, which felt like a loss. “I have something for that! Here, sit down.”
Potter helped him hop up onto the counter that the sinks were set in. When he was settled with his shoes hovering two feet off the ground, Potter knelt in front of him to dig through his bag, eventually producing a tube of children’s salve for stings and bites. It came in a small kit that had a note taped to the front:
Jamie,
Be careful at Hogwarts! Stay out of trouble!
Love,
Mum
Potter seemed to notice him reading and followed his gaze to the note. Turning bright red, he snatched it away and crumpled it up, stuffing it in his pocket as he stood.
“Here!” he said loudly, reaching for him again.
Hesitantly, Regulus extended his small hand, allowing Potter to cradle it in his and slather ointment onto the sore skin. It was clearly a very good salve because the burn from the sting faded almost instantly. Even some of the redness went away.
“Thanks,” Regulus murmured, remembering his manners.
“You’re welcome!” Potter all but cheered, stashing his supplies once more and slinging his bag back on. “My dad’s a Potions Master, you know. He and mum always send me to school with a kit. I’m not even that accident-prone!”
A short silence fell.
“Well,” Regulus said awkwardly, sliding off the counter and feeling his heart race. “I’ll let you get on with… whatever you were doing—“
“NO!”
Regulus jumped.
James blushed. “Sorry, just—please don’t go. What’s new with you? What did you think of the match? Should Ravenclaw have caught the snitch or not?”
Gryffindor had played Ravenclaw very infamously last week, resulting in a Gryffindor win, though with Ravenclaw shockingly catching the snitch. The upset had saved Ravenclaw from a completely devastating loss, but it was a topic of hot conversation with quidditch fans as to whether the seeker, Megan Morgan, had acted too hastily; if the chasers would have been able to turn things around if Morgan had only pretended not to see the snitch.
Regulus, who had successfully tracked the fluttery golden ball nearly the entire game, attempted to defer. “Oh… I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to know ,” Potter insisted, smiling invitingly. “I just want to see what you think. There’s no wrong answer, I promise.”
Until very recently, people weren’t interested in asking what he thought. Before Hogwarts, his opinions were Sirius’s opinions; his feelings about a subject simply mirrored Sirius’s own. And as much as his brother encouraged Regulus to speak up, he knew there was a secret part of Sirius that liked that his little brother’s first impulse was to go along with whatever he decided.
Regulus just shrugged his shoulders again.
“Well, what are you doing for Yule? Do you know what gifts you want?”
“We always have to go to Black Castle.” Regulus said quietly. Potter must have wanted to know Sirius’s plans and was asking him by association. Or maybe… maybe he just wanted to get to know Regulus? “And I usually ask for books.” He paused. “Thank you. What will you be asking for?” he added politely.
James looked oddly nervous but excited by this question. “It’s the same thing every year. I ask my parents for siblings.”
That wasn’t surprising. Most pureblood offspring were only children. There were plenty of jealous comments made about the Black brothers or their cousins, the Black sisters, in their parents’ social circle. It was rare that single children remained so by choice.
Regulus was surprised when James continued to ramble.
“I’d be a great brother,” James said suddenly, the words nearly tumbling over each other. It was almost like he’d been working up the nerve to say this to Regulus for a while. “I pick great gifts and tell funny stories and I’ve gotten really good at sharing my things. Sirius will tell you!”
He looked at Regulus meaningfully, as though he was supposed to know what to do with this information. He almost opened his mouth to seek uncertain clarification when an uneasy thought all but hit him over the head.
What if Potter wasn’t having this conversation for the sake of befriending Regulus.
What if he just… wanted Sirius ?
Was this some strange way of asking Regulus to give Sirius up to him? So he could be brothers with Sirius, Lupin, and Pettigrew? Was he suggesting that he’d be better at it than Regulus?
You’re a shit little brother, you’re a shit little brother, you’re a—
“You don’t have to say anything,” Potter said quickly, as though embarrassed by his own daring. “Just think about it!”
Regulus didn’t know what to say; what to think. He felt like cold water had been thrown over him.
Surely he had the wrong end of it.
But had Potter not just said that he wished for siblings every Yule? Sirius and Potter had spent an entire year together when Sirius had first come to Hogwarts. They were close, but… surely Potter didn’t think he could replace him as Sirius’s brother ?
It was ridiculous.
Nonsense.
Sirius would never stand for it.
And yet…
That Saturday, twelve inches of snow fell overnight and suddenly it was like everyone had lost their mind.
“C’mon guys, we’ve got to find a defensible position,” Dorcas said impatiently as Evan and Regulus attempted to enjoy breakfast.
“There is no defensible position for someone like you,” Evan answered sourly.
“If we don't leave now, all the good spots for snow forts will be gone!” Barty insisted at Dorcas’s elbow.
“Good!” Regulus and Evan retorted simultaneously.
Their friends were uninterested in their protests, however, and frogmarched the two reluctant Slytherins outside as soon as they’d finished their tea.
A beautiful wintery landscape greeted them, made more pleasant by the gaggles of students punctuating the grounds. Someone had melted a winding maze of paths through the snowfields, leading to the quidditch pitch where a few idiots were actually flying, the frozen lake where many students were skating, and in silly circles that made up an aerial sketch of a hippogriff in a Father Christmas hat. In strategic locations, snow forts had been erected with clusters of students manning them and hurling snowballs at anyone who got too close.
“On your left, James!”
Out of habit, Regulus tracked the sound of his brother’s voice.
Upon a slight hill, Sirius and his friends were holding court in a monstrous snow fort decorated with a large Gryffindor banner that looked like it had been stolen from the quidditch pitch’s stands. At the top of the icy fortress, the four boys were armed with a plethora of snowballs and were pelting them at passersby.
“Those bastards got the high ground!” Barty protested.
Dorcas pointed. “Let’s set up behind that tree!”
Even as he retreated with his friends, Regulus couldn’t help but bitterly notice that Sirius and James worked well together. They seemed to know where the other was without even looking. They each levitated the snowballs the other had made and launched them into the air with poor accuracy. After a rare successful hit, they would celebrate with exaggerated strutting behind the walls of their fort, shaking hands pompously and saying things like “good show, old bean!”
…Would Sirius rather be Potter’s brother?
“Alright, you two build the back fort walls while Barty and I make the front ones. No slacking off!”
“I didn’t even ask to be here!”
“Solidarity, Evan, solidarity!”
Regulus had been jealous of Potter when Sirius wrote home about him during his first year, but he didn’t actually think Sirius wanted him as a brother .
Who intercepted mother’s howler to help Sirius save face? Regulus thought, angrily blasting snow away to form a clearing for their fort. He compressed it as best he could into a smooth sheet of ice to form the rear wall. Who had their tongue ripped out for standing up for Sirius?
“ Wow, Reg, you’re really good at this!” Barty praised him, admiring his work. “Let’s make a bunch of snowballs next so we can throw them at people!”
By this point, Regulus had worked himself up to an unreasonable state of resentment. Scowling under his scarf with cold-flushed cheeks, he flicked his wand and spoke the spell that Flitwik had taught them last class when the charms professor had heard of the anticipated first snowfall of the year.
“ Circum !”
Perfectly round spheres began to carve themselves out of the fresh snowfield to the side of the fort. Under Evan’s reluctant direction, they levitated over the wall and settled in neat rows and stacks safely inside their keep.
“Perfect!” Dorcas grinned, her nose red with cold. “And now, to attack!”
With clever eyes that honed in on his target from an impressive distance, Regulus lined up his first shot, and his next, and the one after that.
They were all aimed at Potter.
“Nice one!” Dorcus cheered as a glob of snow exploded over Potter’s glasses when he peered out from the protective walls of their fort.
“Do it again!” Barty laughed loudly as Regulus hit Potter a second time shortly after the first.
“This is war, Reggie!” Sirius’s disembodied voice called.
Every now and then, Regulus would aim for other forts in wand-shot, just to avoid looking petty. A team of Hufflepuff fifth years were taking advantage of the natural protection of the castle wall at their flank and giggling as they launched an elaborate snow cannon at students who purposely stood out in the open to play as dodgers. One of the boys yelped as Regulus and Barty both nailed him with snowballs, making the Slytherin friends collapse against each other in laughter.
It was after the twelfth time that Regulus hit Potter square in the face that Sirius decided to take action.
“HEM-HEM, ATTENTION BABY BROTHER!” Sirius’s voice boomed with an Amplifying Charm, causing Regulus to immediately turn red as other students turned to look at him, giggling. “YOU ARE HEREBY REQUIRED TO SURRENDER YOURSELF TO CASTLE GRYFFINDOR! FAILURE TO DO SO WILL RESULT IN DRASTIC ACTION! THANK YOU IN ADVANCE FOR YOUR COOPERATION!”
“They’re mad!” Evan announced, having given into the fun long ago. His cheeks were tinged red and he was grinning as wide as any of them.
“We’ll never give you up, Reg!” Dorcus declared.
“Too right! BUGGER OFF, BLACK!” Barty screamed, lacking the benefit of a sonorous . He gripped Regulus’s upper arm possessively. “HE’S OURS!”
Message received, the four Gryffindors paused in their attacks, likely to discuss this development.
Eventually, the boys returned a response of their own.
Without warning, a blue spell from Potter’s wand sailed towards them. Instead of hitting their fort or any of them, however, it knocked into the trunk of the tree shielding them.
Just as Regulus opened his mouth to yell—perhaps childishly—that he’d missed, all the snow that had settled overnight onto the branches and leaves came crashing down on the first year Slytherins’ heads.
Regulus, Dorcas, and Barty shrieked as ice slipped down the back of their cloaks, making them leap away to shake it out.
“BASTARDS!”
“Get better reflexes, Crouch!” Potter crowed as Sirius, Remus, and Peter roared with laughter next to him.
“Lets go inside,” Regulus said through clenched, chattering teeth. Evan alone had managed to dodge the worst of it and helpfully brushed some of the snow from Regulus’s collar. “And then, let’s poison their apple ciders for lunch.”
They crept the long way around to get to the castle’s front door, avoiding the other forts’ ammunition by winding through the trees. However, when they shuffled into the entrance hall, believing themselves to be safe, Regulus gave a gasp of surprise as he was abruptly plucked from his friends and pulled into a secret passageway hidden behind the tapestry he was walking by.
It was a dingy space with walls lined with hundreds of old porcelain dolls in dated outfits, its ceiling low and its stale air cold. Standing inside were none other than Sirius and James Potter, both grinning down at him with matching ruddy noses.
“Good game!” Potter beamed and in his shivering, shocked, and irritable state, Regulus wondered how he could ever have found the older boy cute .
“No it wasn’t! You cheated!”
“Don’t be a sore loser,” Sirius reprimanded, which only made the Slytherin angrier
“Did I hurt you?” Potter asked, dropping his grin in favor of something more sincere. “Were you not having fun? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Whatever! Let me out!”
“You’re being such a little brother about this,” Sirius rolled his eyes.
Potter brightened up. “Yeah, you’re such a little brother .”
Regulus seethed .
Ignoring his foul mood, Sirius pulled his wand from his pocket and cast a Drying Charm on him. The melted snow fell from Regulus’s clothes to collect in a puddle at his feet, inspiring Potter to twirl his own wand with an unnecessary flourish, casting a Warming Charm on Regulus’s cloak.
The urge to shiver dissipated but the urge to glare did not.
“What do we say?” Sirius teased, plucking at his now warm and dry sleeve. “Go on, let’s hear it.”
“Thank you, big brother ,” Regulus replied sarcastically.
Merlin, older brothers were such a nightmare !
“You’re welcome!” Potter interjected himself into the conversation eagerly, inexplicably delighted by Regulus’s words. “We were going to go to the kitchens, do you want to come? Are you hungry? Or you could come up to our common room and we could play—“
“No!”
Sirius sighed. “‘No,’ what, kid?”
“‘No’ I don’t want to do anything with Potter! I want you to take me ice skating!”
Potter looked both startled and hurt by Regulus’s demand. “But we just came inside, Reg.”
Regulus sucked in a breath, preparing to really go off on the brother-stealing Gryffindor when Sirius suddenly shrugged. “Okay, if that’s what you want.”
Potter seemed to deflate before their eyes, his disappointment at the dismissal obvious. “Oh... I guess I’ll just… tell your Slytherin mates that you’ve gone.”
He hovered hopefully for a few more seconds, clearly trying to steal Sirius’s attention again , but Regulus felt vindicated when his brother’s eyes remained on him.
When Potter finally crumpled off, Regulus realized quite quickly that he had a problem: he’d convinced Sirius to spend time with him but he had absolutely no interest in braving the icy temperatures outside. If he was honest and admitted that he didn’t want to ice skate, Sirius might just return to Gryffindor Tower and spend his afternoon with Potter, which was an even less appealing thought than braving the bitter cold.
There had been a time not long ago when Sirius would just know all of this already. Over the summer, Regulus hadn’t needed to even speak for Sirius to understand him. His older brother had always read him so well that they’d had entire conversations based on eye contact and the slightest gestures.
Now thanks to Potter, it was like Sirius didn’t know him at all.
Fortunately, he needn’t have worried, because as he reluctantly made to exit the secret room, preparing himself to pretend to want to exist in the below-freezing weather, Sirius pulled him back by the scruff of his cloak.
“Don’t be stupid, kid,” his brother rolled his eyes, allowing Regulus to sulk with his arms crossed petulantly over his chest. “You and I both know you don’t want to go ice skating. You want to read your fairytales and curl up by a fireplace until you fall asleep. You’re like a cat that way. So tell me what I’m missing here.”
Regulus felt a little guilty now for his earlier thoughts. Of course Sirius still knew him; Sirius knew him better than anyone .
“Talk to me, kid.”
“I don’t want to talk .”
“Okay,” Sirius said easily. “What do you want to do?”
It was much harder to stay mad at his brother when Sirius was being so perfectly patient and reasonable, but somehow Regulus managed it. “Why do you care? Why are you even here ?”
“Where else should I be?”
“Your new brother seems like he has a few ideas.”
Sirius didn’t speak at first, which gave Regulus time to turn bright red in embarrassment upon realizing how childish he’d sounded. If he’d said that at home, their mother would have hexed him so badly that Regulus would need a day of recovery before summoning the strength to be in the same room as her again.
He glared at the ground as Sirius settled to lean on the wall next to him.
“My new brother?” Sirius asked, toeing him with his shoe. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing. It’s… stupid, forget it.”
“It’s not stupid. You’re upset.”
Regulus chewed on his bottom lip, unsure if he actually wanted to know the answer to what he was about to ask. “Do you like him better? Potter, I mean.”
He was startled when Sirius scooted in front of him, twisting his neck like a duck to put his face directly in Regulus’s line of sight. He couldn’t help the smile coming to his lips as he pinched his brother’s nose shut in retaliation, making him sound oddly muffled.
“Better?” Sirius asked in his new nasally voice, making Regulus huff with laughter. “How could I like anyone better than you?”
“He’s in your year, he’s nicer, and he likes to pull pranks. I don’t… have that in me.”
“Kid,” Sirius said, gently detaching Regulus’s grabbing fingers from his nose in order to speak seriously. “I missed you so much my first year here—you don’t even know how much.”
Regulus kept his fragile gaze on his brother as Sirius continued.
“The first month, when all the other kids were crying for their mums and dads… I didn’t. I didn’t care about not seeing either one of them for a long time. I hoped I wouldn’t.” Sirius shoved his fists into his pockets, hunching his shoulders, and Regulus realized he was working up the nerve to admit something very vulnerable.
“But I cried like a bloody baby every night for weeks because you weren’t there. Some days I just… wanted to quit. Just go home. Because even though I hated our parents and that miserable fucking house, you were there and I thought, you know, maybe I could pretend to be really sick? Or fail a bunch of classes? Then I’d get held back a year and would start Hogwarts with you.”
Regulus was… stunned. Sirius’s letters last year had always painted a very charmed picture filled with adventures and friends and all kinds of joy that surely outshone their suffocating lives in Grimmauld Place.
“But… you never said anything.”
“I wanted you to be proud of me,” Sirius replied quietly, folding his arms tightly across his chest. “And I didn’t want you to somehow change your mind and decide you didn’t want to go to Hogwarts anymore. Because even though I love it here and I have great friends and all that, I wouldn’t have come back if you didn’t go with me. I swear to Merlin that’s the truth.”
Well what was he supposed to say to a declaration like that ? Suddenly, his bitterness towards Potter seemed very petty. Of course he wanted his brother to have friends; to have a better life.
He just… wanted to be important too.
“…You have to swear you’ll always care about me.”
Sirius furrowed his brow in alarm. “Of course I will!”
“I mean it, Sirius,” he insisted. “You can’t ever stop, okay? Even when I’m a shit little brother or don’t say enough or you think I’m being stupid. Because if you don’t do it, no one else will.”
“You’re not any of those things! And that’s not true, Reggie! Your friends care about you.”
“Yes, but they don’t have to .” Regulus stared intently at him. “You do .”
“One day you’re going to scream at me for caring too much,” Sirius joked.
Regulus opened his mouth to deny it, but he could actually picture that easily.
It was almost… a premonition. In it, the two of them were older and standing in a room he didn’t recognize. Sirius was taller and with longer hair than he had now, his teeth catching his tongue as he stared at Regulus, who was still so slender and fair, nearly shaking with frustration.
“Look, kid—“
“DON’T CALL ME KID!”
Sirius paused, stung. “I’ve always called you that.”
“And it was fine and special when you did it before, but you’re acting like I’m still eleven! I’m not actually a kid anymore, Sirius!”
His brother looked upset by this statement, almost like it was actually a surprise to hear it. “I’m just trying to protect you!”
“This isn’t just letting me think wishing fires are real! You’re smothering me and I can’t breathe !”
Regulus shook his head in real time to dispel the unnervingly vivid scenario. It was so realistic that it was almost disorienting to contemplate; like Regulus could reach out and touch the florid pink sunset painted on the canvas nearby or stick out his tongue and taste the staleness of the air trapped in the little alcove with them.
“That’s never going to happen.”
“Good, because I’m always going to. I fucking swear it.”
“Swear it,” Regulus echoed intently, the idea appealing to him. “Let’s swear it.”
Sirius cast around wildly for something to swear on. There wasn’t much inspiration in the dim storage room, but his gaze soon lit up in triumph as he yanked a small silver necklace from one of the dolls lining the walls. It was one of those proper little girl ones with stiff chocolate curls and dressed in Slytherin robes. The chain that Sirius took off it was very thin and fine—too little for Regulus to clasp around his neck, but just big enough for Sirius to cast a quick Repairing Charm while it was around Regulus’s thin wrist.
“I swear as your big brother,” Sirius began as he seamlessly bound it to him without a clasp where it could be taken off, “I’ll never let anyone come between us or take you away.”
“Me too,” Regulus said solemnly. “No matter what happens.”
Notes:
Next time:
Sirius filches Regulus from his friends so they can spend some one-on-one time together as brothers. Meanwhile, Regulus learns that maybe not everyone's parents treat them as badly as he and Sirius are treated by theirs.
Chapter 10: Brothers, for Adversity
Summary:
This time:
Sirius filches Regulus from his friends so they can spend some one-on-one time together as brothers. Meanwhile, Regulus learns that maybe not everyone's parents treat them as badly as he and Sirius are treated by theirs.
Notes:
Dedicated to lifeandlies-of-regulusblack on tumblr! What a friend! Thank you for The Discourse on all things Sirius and Regulus!
- villain
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Regulus was dreading the upcoming Yule holiday.
Not only would he be forced back into proximity of his parents, but the stress of it was upon Sirius as well, which was presumably the reason why he’d turned moody recently.
“You can’t just wander around without a fucking cloak, Reggie, it’s freezing!”
“Don’t join the Gobstones Club! Talk about throwing away your social credibility!”
“Did you finish your Yule shopping already? You haven’t? Merlin, you can’t just keep putting this stuff off!”
Sirius was being completely insufferable and was taking it out on Regulus by telling him what to do more than ever.
“I’m going to strangle you with your own intestines,” Dorcas finally told him, irritated. The four Slytherins were in the library trying to finish their defense essay when Sirius had swanned in with a long list of things to harang his little brother about. “Stop following us around.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Sirius groused.
“Then stop telling him what to do!”
“SHHH!” Madam Pince, the librarian, hushed them with a scandalized look on her face. “No arguing in the library.”
They all nodded quickly, averting their eyes.
But Sirius just wouldn’t quit.
“C’mon, Reggie, let’s explore!”
“I’m working , Sirius.”
“I’ll show you where the kitchens are,” Sirius tried to bribe him.
Regulus started to answer that he didn’t care one whit about the kitchens when Barty yanked his essay away, Evan stole his quill, and Dorcas snagged his book bag with her foot.
“He would love that,” Evan announced.
Regulus glared. “What!?”
“You’ve got to take one for the team, Reg,” Barty told him bracingly, pulling his essay further out of reach. “Fortescue’s price for the kitchen’s location is writing his next transfiguration essay and I barely want to write my own.”
It was completely unfair.
“This is completely unfair!”
His three friends shrugged as though their hands were completely tied by the situation.
“Sorry, mate. Have fun with big brother. ”
Regulus groaned but stood, causing Sirius to cheer.
“ Mr. Black !”
“Sorry, Madam Pince! We're going!” Grabbing Regulus by the hand, he took off towards the library exit.
“Hey! Slow down!” the Slytherin complained as he was dragged along.
“You’ve got to start training now if you want to make seeker, Reggie,” Sirius informed him, obediently slowing and releasing him when they cleared the threshold of the library. “I won’t go easy on you when we play each other. It’s best you know that now.”
“I don’t know if I even want to be on the team,” Regulus reminded him, following. “I haven’t actually played quidditch before.”
“No worries, you can watch me play!”
“But you didn’t make the team!”
Sirius dismissed that with a wave. “Doesn’t matter. The other beater is in sixth year now. There’ll be tryouts for his spot in two years. Plenty of time for me to prepare. Look here—“
Regulus watched in confusion as Sirius walked up to a tapestry and began to examine it. It depicted a forest scene with three witches dancing around a bonfire. His mouth opened in surprise as Sirius tapped a pumpkin in the background with his wand, turning the entire tapestry into a thin veil.
“Secret passage,” Sirius whispered unnecessarily, pushing at the curtain. Sure enough, it allowed him through. “C’mon, Reggie!”
Dutifully, Regulus followed his brother as he followed him everywhere else, feeling the veil fold around him like a thin film of feathery air. When the sensation stopped, he found himself standing, disoriented, in a low stone passageway that was so dark that he couldn’t see two feet in front of him.
His breath hitched. “ Sirius !”
“I’m here, kid.” A hand grabbed onto him. Regulus clutched it back, feeling the metal of his brother’s familiar heir ring encircling his left little finger; a soothing anchor. “It’s okay, it’s just a secret passage.”
“Okay,” Regulus breathed, still spooked.
“Can you hold onto me?” Sirius guided his hand to clutch a fistful of his Gryffindor robe, just like Regulus always did at home.
He nodded, then realized his brother couldn’t see him. “Yes.”
“Cool, c’mon.”
Regulus walked upright down the sloping passage but Sirius had to move at a bit of a crouch. It was slow going for a few minutes, but Regulus clung to his brother’s robes and dutifully followed as Sirius led him on, chattering away about his gift selections for his friends this Yule.
“—and I got Remus this book on magical wolves. I dunno why but he seems awfully interested in them. Oh, watch out, it’s a step up here.”
Heeding him, Regulus stepped blindly up, suddenly once again pushing through that sensation of filmy, feathery air.
And then there he and Sirius were, standing in a well-lit hallway in front of a tapestry nearly identical to the last, this time with three wizards dancing around a bonfire.
“Wow,” Regulus breathed, disoriented.
“I know! And there are hundreds of secret passages just like that! We want to make a—“
“Awww, hello widdle cousins!”
Sirius instinctively shoved Regulus behind him as they turned to face the unwelcome voice. As they had been talking, their oldest first cousin, Bellatrix, rounded the corner, spotted them, and began to grin menacingly.
“Bella,” Sirius replied evenly. Regulus noticed him surreptitiously moving his hand toward his pocket where the outline of his wand was. “... Congratulations on the betrothal.”
Bellatrix was scheduled to marry Rodolphus Lestrange next June in a ceremony that was shaping up to cost well over one hundred thousand galleons. The event of the social session, people were calling it.
“Oh thank you, Gryffindor traitor.”
“Well so much for pretending to give a fuck about you.”
Bellatrix cackled. “Move over, Sirius. I’m not interested in you. I want to see my favorite cousin.”
“I’m not your favorite?” Sirius gasped, feigning shock. “And I was so sure you were about to ask me to be your maid of honor, too. Especially since no one bloody likes you enough to do it willingly.”
“ Expelliarmus !”
Sirius’s wand was yanked from where it had just barely made it into his hand to sail neatly into Bellatrix’s.
“Little cousin, aren’t you excited to be in my wedding party?” she cooed, trying to get a look at Regulus over Sirius’s shoulder. “You’ll look so pretty walking down the aisle with Cissy. Maybe grandfather will notice and marry you off to her.”
The suggestion made Regulus feel sick. His parents had been second cousins, so it wasn’t like it was a completely unprecedented suggestion. He couldn’t imagine being married to Narcissa. It would be like marrying his brother .
“Fuck off, Bella!” Sirius snapped, furious. “Keep your sick thoughts to yourself!”
Bellatrix used her wand to fling a Stinging Hex at Sirius just like their mother was wont to do. Even at her most vicious, she didn’t dare use Sirius’s wand to cast. Not only was it unlikely to obey her, but using another person’s wand was sacred; a two-way declaration of trust and care that was not acted on casually, especially in the old families.
“Speaking of sick thoughts, I heard the funniest story about you getting cozy with a mudblood recently. Auntie won’t like that, will she?”
“You’re crazy,” Sirius scoffed.
“Imogen Heaney? No? Maybe I’ll go ask her myself.”
Subtly, Regulus pulled his wand from his pocket; the twin of Sirius’s. As a mere first year, knew he had little chance of besting their seventh-year cousin. In all honesty, Sirius probably didn’t either, but Regulus had a hard time imagining his big brother failing at anything. Sirius was brilliant . He’d figure out a way to get them out of here.
The cousins had moved on to arguing about something else.
“At least my brother can stand me! Your sisters go the opposite way when they see you coming!”
“They respect me, which is more than you can say when everyone’s heard Reggie backtalk you in public. If I were you, I’d set him straight!”
Regulus pressed the handle of his wand into the heel of Sirius’s hand. He felt his brother still in surprise, no doubt identifying Regulus’s most prized possession, before smoothly accepting the offering.
“The only one needing to be set straight is Lestrange for agreeing to marry you. Though it’s not like he had a choice, right?”
Suddenly, the lesson bell rang, making Bellatrix very briefly flick her eyes toward the sound. While she was momentarily distracted by that, Sirius whipped out a package from his pocket and tapped it with Regulus’s wand.
“Magna ignis !”
The nondescript package stamped with Zonko’s tumbled across the floor towards Bellatrix, who jumped at the unexpected noise. It only took a second before the object began to rattle, and then explode in a cacophony of dazzling fireworks in the hallway between them.
“ Expelliarmus !”
Sirius’s wand returned from Bellatrix’s loose fingers, zooming through the materialized clouds of smoke as the fireworks ricocheted off the walls, nearly drowning out their cousin’s curses.
As soon as his wand was firmly in his grasp, Sirius pushed Regulus forward down the hall away from the chaos.
“RUN!”
They ran.
Sirius led them down two hallways and a set of stairs at a sprint, constantly looking back to check if Regulus was still following. They rounded a corner and Sirius skidded to a stop in front of a painting depicting a bowl of delicious-looking fruit.
“Tickle the pear!”
Regulus looked at him like he was crazy.
“Just do it !”
He reached up on tiptoes to run his fingers quickly along the belly of the pear, which began to wiggle and squirm, giggling under his touch. The green pear then morphed into a green handle, which Sirius reached past him to pull.
The entire painting swung open like a door.
“Get in!”
Regulus didn’t need to be told twice, bursting through as Sirius slammed the door behind them.
They stood there panting for a good few seconds before Sirius dissolved in a fit of laughter. Regulus reluctantly grinned as his brother collapsed to the ground, tears of glee spilling down his cheeks. As insane as it all was, Regulus missed this: sneaking around, causing chaos, and barely avoiding the consequences of their own actions. Sirius brought that side of him out like no one else ever could.
“D-Did you s-see her face !? Merlin, I can’t b- breathe !”
“Young master isn’t breathing!?” an alarmed voice squeaked.
Regulus’s head snapped up. He shouldn’t have been surprised to see a house-elf in front of him–Hogwarts wasn’t running itself, after all–but he hadn’t exactly been anticipating it either. There were maybe two hundred elves present. The room they all stood in mirrored the layout of the great hall and the air was warm and comfortable.
His heart ached with homesickness for Kreacher.
“I’m okay, Tilly, sorry.” Sirius pulled himself together for her benefit, smiling. “Do you think we could have a tea service?”
Regulus felt incredibly guilty for not thinking of Kreacher before now. He’d been so busy worrying about his small dramas that it hadn’t occurred to him to worry about his caregiver and friend.
Sirius hustled him along to a small table situated in front of a functional brick fireplace where a dozen fluffy loaves of bread had just finished baking. As Regulus watched, an elf exchanged the toasted batch for a large metal sheet dotted with fresh dough.
It smelled heavenly.
“I forgot they made you a groomsman for Bella’s wedding,” Sirius said, wrinkling his nose as they sat down.
“I didn’t get to choose.”
“Can you imagine Bella as a mother when all this is done?” Sirius shuddered, serving them both from the silver tea tray that appeared before them. “I don’t even want to think about the process of that.”
Regulus, who wasn’t exactly sure how babies arrived except that it happened vaguely after a couple was married, nodded uncomprehendingly.
“Thanks for this, by the way,” Sirius said abruptly, drawing Regulus’s wand. “Without it, we would have been completely buggered.”
He wasn’t exactly sure how to address this; was surprised that Sirius had brought it up instead of giving the wand back and pretending it never happened. Technically, they had done something very odd, if not rude. Wands were meant to be loyal to one person and one person only. Switching them between owners was something of a taboo in wixen society.
“It’s a good thing you could cast with it.” He paused, curious. “What does it feel like when you hold someone else’s wand?”
Wands were sometimes buried with their owners and other times passed down through the family line after the owner’s death. The latter case was the only socially acceptable circumstance to use someone else’s wand because death severed the connection between wand and wixen. That was how Regulus had been assigned Sirius Black the First’s, which worked well enough for him but not perfectly. It was still locked up in his truck, unused the entire year.
He wondered what it was like to use a wand that was actively loyal to someone else.
“Try it yourself,” Sirius told him, holding his own out handle-first.
Regulus bit his lip. “Are you sure?”
It was a necessity to hand his wand over to his brother before. He trusted his brother and Sirius could do more magic than him, so the weapon was best placed in his hands. This, though, was a conscious choice that defied politeness and social acceptability.
“I trust you,” Sirius said simply.
Hesitantly, Regulus reached out and accepted the wand. The wood felt inherently warm and was virtually indistinguishable from his own except for the distinct wear pattern that had developed from Sirius’s left-handedness. When Sirius had first waved it in Ollivander's nearly two years ago, the wand had sent a sparkle of golden shimmer into the air and turned everything in the room bright purple.
Fortunately, Ollivander had simply chuckled delightedly at the trickster magic.
Unfortunately, their mother had been furious at the undignified display, later resulting in one of the first real screaming matches between her and her oldest son.
It felt… familiar in a way. It was the twin of his own, so that wasn’t so unlikely, but instead of the sudden, heightened awareness of his surroundings that came from his own wand’s power boost, he felt a wash of electricity and mischief emanating from this one. He felt energized , like he’d just taken a long nap, and was now ready to tackle the day anew.
“ Lumos ,” Regulus murmured.
The wand lit obediently at its tip.
“What does it feel like to you?” Sirius asked curiously.
“It feels like it wants to play a game,” Regulus smiled slightly, handing it back over. The borrowed cheerfulness emanating from the wand immediately faded from him. “What does my wand feel like?”
Sirius shrugged, holding Regulus’s wand up to the light. “It’s like it wants me to see something but I don’t know what. It was happy to do spells with me, but it’s kind of scary… I think there’s a good reason why I got my wand and not yours.”
Regulus accepted his trusty companion back, reflecting on his brother’s words. Every wand had a hidden gift it bestowed upon its wielder; something special about the core that gave the wixen an unexpected advantage while using it. As soon as his hand closed around the wood, he felt that same tingle of intuition that he always did when holding his wand; the power of insight. It resonated with something deep inside him, making him relax.
“Did you pack already?” Regulus asked, changing the topic.
Across from him, Sirius launched into a lengthy explanation that Regulus could already tell would end in no , he had not packed. He let Sirius talk anyway, wrapping his hands around the warm cup of tea as his brother gesticulated, grinning.
He didn’t want winter break to start.
He just wanted things to stay just like this.
Forever.
The day the Hogwarts Express was destined to transport most of the students to London arrived with a depressed tone settling over their dorm room.
“I’ll see you loads,” Evan promised as he neatly arranged his sweaters in his trunk. They were, of course, neighbors in Morgana Hill, so Regulus was soothed that at least that would be an easy promise to keep.
Barty, who lived in Cashmere Lake, a completely different county due south, scowled at the reminder. “Yeah, rub it in, Rosier.”
“You can visit too.”
“I’m sure my father would love to hear I’m going to visit the Blacks and Rosiers for a spot of tea and dark arts.”
“You lot could visit me,” Dorcas suggested, flipping to the next page of Witch Weekly from her position lazing on Regulus’s bed. “My family is strictly neutral. They won’t care.”
“Yes, I’m sure your parents would love to have three boys over for a sleepover with their daughter, unsupervised,” Barty told her.
Regulus frowned, not understanding the implication that was making Dorcas flush. “Don’t make it weird, Crouch.”
“I’m not! I’m just saying!”
He was gratified to see Evan trying to catch his eye, equally in want of an explanation.
“Just put down that rag and help me pack,” Barty pleaded.
“No can do. You told me to jump in the lake when I reminded you to pack yesterday. You deserve this.”
“I was joking!”
“Get better jokes.”
“What do you think they meant?” Evan asked after he’d finished packing and sidled over to converse with Regulus as their two friends jeered at each other. “About the sleepover? I thought it sounded like a good idea.”
“So did I. Is it not allowed?”
Regulus and Evan pondered the matter.
“She must not be allowed to have so many friends over at once,” Evan decided. “My grandmother is that way. She never likes it when my cousins and I go visit at the same time. Says it’s too noisy.”
“We aren’t noisy, though. Maybe Dorcas could just explain that to her parents.”
“That’s a good idea.”
Eventually, Barty finished packing and the four of them retreated to await the horseless carriages that would take them to Hogsmeade Station, shivering in the biting wind. Regulus wasn’t really in a chatty mood, but he gamely listened in as Dorcas and Barty tried to guess what Evan had gotten them for Yule.
“It’s books, isn’t it?” Dorcas asked.
“No, you’re both barely literate as it is.”
“It's definitely something quidditch related.”
“Can you two just wait till bloody Yule!?”
Regulus maintained the best poker face possible at Barty’s guess. He and Evan had gone in together to buy Dorcas and Barty each a beater’s bat and a training bludger that was charmed not to come within three inches of a living thing. Contrary to Evan’s annoyance, the other boy had been very pleased with himself for suggesting it to Regulus and he knew Evan was disappointed that he would be unable to watch their friends unwrap it in person.
“We have to see each other at least once during the break.”
“Sneak over to Black Castle during Yule,” Evan told Barty jokingly as they all hurried into the first carriage they could claim as the fleet arrived. “Reg, Dorcas, and I will be there whether we like it or not.”
“Or sneak over to my house for New Year’s Eve,” Dorcas suggested.
“Hang on, why am I doing all the sneaking!?”
“We’ve got to play to our strengths, Barty. Yours just so happens to be being a fucking creep.” Dorcas turned to Regulus. “Did you know I went to your dorm looking for you the other day and decided to wait for you to come back, thinking I was alone? Fifteen minutes go by— fifteen! — before Barty finally asks me what I’m waiting for. He was reading in his bed the entire time!”
“ You came into my room! Why was I the one who needed to announce myself?”
“No, Dorcas is right,” Regulus said. “We need to put a bell on you.”
Evan laughed.
The banter mostly kept Regulus distracted as they settled into a compartment on the train. They played Exploding Snap for the first two hours, pausing only to argue about the rules, which was largely a matter of opinion since none of them owned the game’s manual.
“I don’t need a bloody manual to know you’re cheating, Dorcas! You can’t go again if you touch the cards when it’s not your turn! Everyone knows that!”
“It was an accident, you nutter! And that rule only counts if you move a card not on your turn!”
Eventually, they descended into a comfortable silence, during which Dorcas and Evan nodded off to sleep. The train rocked gently as Regulus read and Barty stared out the window, the sun gradually getting lower and lower in the sky.
“I don’t want to see my father.”
Regulus looked up from his book. Barty was still staring outside, occasionally tracing a bead of rain as it raced across the window.
Their friend group hadn’t spoken much about their families, but Regulus always felt closest to Barty on this subject from the scraps of information he’d gathered. He knew Bartemius Crouch Sr. was a consummate law-and-order politician from his Uncle Alphard’s complaints about him at family gatherings. His uncle was the Black family solicitor and while Alphard was a good man, Regulus had a feeling he had done some unsavory maneuvering in the name of the Blacks.
“He’s going to be miserable about me being in Slytherin,” Barty continued. “Everything’s always about appearance for him.”
“He doesn’t sound like a very good father.”
“He isn’t.”
“I’m not looking forward to seeing my mother either,” Regulus confided, closing his book. “My father just avoids us, but mother gets pretty bad.”
“I miss my mother,” Barty sighed. “But she doesn’t stand up to father much at all.”
“Is she nice?”
“Oh yeah!” Barty brightened. “One time, father promised to come home early for my birthday dinner. He promised for weeks, but then the day came and he sent an owl from work telling us he wouldn’t be home until past midnight. Mother was furious . She and I made a snowman on the grounds and mother dressed it up with father’s favorite dress robes, and then we pelted it with snowballs!”
Barty and Regulus snickered behind their hands, ducking their heads together to avoid waking their friends.
“Once when we were around eight and nine, Sirius put doxy musk in mother’s very expensive perfume. She smelled awful for hours and had to stay home from her ladies’ society dinner. She hates missing those.”
He and Barty grinned at each other.
“Did she ever realize it was him?”
“Oh yes,” Regulus assured him, loose-lipped from the attention. “She gave us both five Stinging Hexes and sent us to bed without supper. One of mine actually bled .” He rolled his eyes, projecting an air of oh well, what can you do? “Sirius says she’s crazy.”
Barty was very quiet after that. Regulus assumed he was finished socializing for the moment and opened his book back up to the place he’d left off. He was three pages in when his friend spoke up.
“I don’t think she’s allowed to do that.”
Regulus looked up, frowning. “What?”
Barty looked confused and upset. “ That . Your mother, doing those things! It’s not allowed.”
Regulus frowned at him. “It’s just how things are done, Barty.”
“No it isn’t!” He looked frustrated with himself, as though he meant to say more but his twelve-year-old vocabulary couldn’t find the words. “It isn’t , Reg!”
He had forgotten to speak softly, though, causing Dorcas to lift her head from Evan’s shoulder, blinking in the light.
“Ugh, what time is it?”
Barty and Regulus exchanged long looks.
“Four in the evening,” Barty said at last.
“We’re nearly there, then,” she yawned, shaking Evan awake.
Evan, prying his face off the window, yawned. “What’s the time?”
Dorcas told him.
“Nearly there, then.”
They didn’t bother changing out of their Slytherin robes, considering their parents would be apparating them directly home. The train was gradually beginning to slow, signaling that they had just about arrived at Platform 9 ¾.
“I’m going to wear this tie all Yule long,” Barty decided, making eye contact with Regulus. “If I can’t please my father, might as well antagonize him.”
“I think you should,” Regulus smiled.
Their compartment door unexpectedly slid open.
“Hello, generic first years,” Sirius acknowledged them, “and other pleasant greetings.”
“What do you want, Black?” Barty scowled, jumping to his feet aggressively. He clearly still hadn’t forgiven Sirius for hexing him in September.
“No need to stand on my account, Crouch, I’m just here to collect my baby brother.”
Regulus went pink, standing uncertainly. “Why? We haven’t arrived yet.”
Sirius pursed his lips. “You need to say your goodbyes on the train from now on, Reggie. Mother won’t let you keep her waiting on the platform so you won’t get a chance at all if you don’t do it now.”
Frowning, Regulus looked back at his friends.
“Can I have five minutes?”
“I’ll give you ten, then I’m coming back for you.”
Sirius shut the door.
“He’s alright sometimes,” Barty admitted grudgingly.
Dorcas looked upset. “You’re supposed to be able to say goodbye on the platform! That’s what it’s there for—“
“We’ll all owl each other,” Evan interrupted, standing up. He clapped Regulus on the shoulder in a side hug. “And Yule isn’t summer, anyway. It’s not that long.”
Dorcas sniffed. “I do hope your family’s Yule ball is up to my standards, Black.” She hugged him fiercely.
Barty seemed even less pleased to let him go than before they’d boarded the train. Clearly their conversation had something to do with it, though Regulus didn’t really understand why. Still, he was grateful when Barty didn’t bring it up, instead putting his hands on Regulus's shoulders and staring down at him.
“Owl me,” he demanded. “Just—owl me, okay?”
“Okay.”
Barty nodded as though he’d secured some kind of sacred oath. Then he lunged forward and hugged Regulus tightly.
“I didn’t know we were giving actual hugs,” he heard Evan mutter, put out.
“No one’s stopping you. But for fuck’s sake, you’re neighbors. You could literally see him tonight if you felt like it.”
The carriage door opened again.
“Ready?” Sirius asked.
Regulus nodded, patting his pocket to confirm his shrunken trunk was still there. He gave his friends a last wave before following his older brother out the door.
Notes:
Next time:
The Yule celebration arrives at Black Castle and Regulus is forced to spend time with some of his least favorite people: everyone sharing his last name. Meanwhile, the stage is set for Sirius and Kreacher to hate each other for all their lives and Sirius makes a terrible deal to protect Regulus.
Chapter 11: Yuletide
Summary:
This time:
The Yule celebration arrives at Black Castle and Regulus is forced to spend time with some of his least favorite people: everyone sharing his last name. Meanwhile, the stage is set for Sirius and Kreacher to hate each other for all their lives and Sirius makes a terrible deal to protect Regulus.
Chapter warning tags: abusive/dysfunctional household, scapegoat child.
[Yet more gratitude to lifeandlies-of-regulusblack on tumblr, who really does inspire me to write!]
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Beta: TheDisreputableleDog
“Did you have any unpleasant visitors today?” Sirius asked, joining the queue of students forming to exit the train.
It was loud and raucous in the thick of the crowd. Regulus frowned distractedly as he was jostled by a passing student. His height put him at elbow-level with a lot of the upper years. “Visitors? Like who?”
“Bella came to see me.”
“ Bella ? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. We didn’t actually do much more than trade insults, but she did have some nasty things to say about Remus. Called him a filthy halfblood. Not a very creative insult, but I called her a lice-riddled hag just in case.”
To great mystery, Bellatrix had caught a bad case of head lice about five years ago during her summer break from Hogwarts. None of the Blacks knew from whence she’d acquired them but Bellatrix hated to be reminded of her brief stent infested with parasites like some commoner. This meant, of course, that Sirius liked to bring it up whenever possible.
The brothers made it off the train in relatively short order, passing the time by bending their necks together to speak. It was only when Sirius lifted his head and scowled that Regulus remembered that they were supposed to be looking for their parents.
“Oh great . Don’t they look fucking cheerful.”
Their parents were indeed in attendance and, as Sirius had noted, wore matching sour expressions. That probably had a lot to do with their proximity to a man and woman dressed in well-made but distinctly Muggle attire. The Muggles were embracing two young girls in Ravenclaw robes with unbridled enthusiasm, pressing hugs and kisses to their hair.
Walburga and Orion Black were so invested in glaring at the other family that neither of them looked around as their own children—who they hadn’t seen in months—approached.
Not for the first time, Regulus felt a flash of jealousy for children with kind parents. He was good . He earned perfect grades, respected his elders, and displayed proper manners at all times. So why did some kids get parents like those girls’ and he got parents like his ?
“Sons,” mother sniffed eventually when the other family finally walked away.
“Mother,” he nodded stiffly. “Father.”
“Well, that covers roll call,” Sirius said boredly.
Their mother cast a disdainful look at him. She was outfitted in an expensive coal-colored winter dress with a pale ermine hat perched airfully atop her sleek black tresses. As always, Walburga Black looked to be the icon of the latest Paris fashions, but without a drop of warmth to her heart.
“You. I’ve had no less than eight owls from that school about you .”
“You’ve clearly missed some.”
Usually Sirius didn’t start right out the gate with antagonism, but clearly things had changed. His bright, spirited confidence from his sparkling life at Hogwarts hadn’t had time to fade, making him more prone to backtalk than what Regulus thought was strictly wise.
In a rare moment of involvement, their father stepped forward to side-along apparate Sirius away from his wife, breaking up the impending fight. By the time their mother had followed suit by grabbing Regulus none too gently by the wrist and transporting them back to Grimmauld Place, Sirius was already on a roll, having started up an argument with Kreacher, who hissed at him like an angry cat on the staircase.
Their father, as usual, had vanished.
“I said to leave my room alone!”
“You is not the master of this house! Kreacher will clean where he will clean!”
“It’s my bloody room!”
“ENOUGH!” Mother snapped. “You do not make the rules around here, Sirius Black. You are, however, excused from dinner this evening. Use that time to think about how you might get this new attitude of yours under control!”
That just set Sirius off.
“I DIDN’T EVEN WANT TO COME HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS!”
“DON’T YOU RAISE YOU VOICE WITH ME YOU UNGRATEFUL—“
“Hi, Kreacher,” Regulus murmured dejectedly, trudging up the stairs. Merlin, he’d forgotten how much his mother and brother shouted at each other these days.
He hated shouting.
Kreacher disappeared with a crack , but Regulus wasn’t worried. When he arrived in his room, Kreature was already there with a silver tea service, fussing over a plate of shortbread cookies and a fresh milk creamer to go with Regulus’s favorite Earl Gray.
He felt an overwhelming rush of affection for the elf, who brought forth the only piece of homesickness to plague him since he’d escaped Grimmauld Place. He’d missed Kreatcher. And though he was ashamed by how little he’d thought of him during the past few months, that didn’t make it any less true.
Regulus hugged him.
Kreacher stiffened in his hold at first, perhaps startled at the sudden display of affection. He did eventually wrap his spindly arms around him in reciprocation though—a fragile, caring hold that neither of Regulus’s parents had bothered with yet.
“You is taller,” Kreacher muttered when they separated. His thin hand reached up to rest on Regulus’s shoulder. “You is eating?”
Regulus laughed a little. “Yes, I’m eating, Kreacher.”
“You is happy?”
“Yes.”
“You is a good boy.”
Regulus smiled fondly down at him. “Thank you.”
Kreacher nodded firmly, satisfied with his findings. “You is taking tea,” he instructed next, ushering Regulus into a plush chair in front of one of the windows. “You is telling Kreacher of your new life.”
The elf absolutely refused to take a cup, but he did settle on the floor, cross-legged like a small child, listening to Regulus obediently summarize his first year thus far with rapt attention. Under Kreacher’s intent gaze, Regulus found himself sitting up straighter, recounting the last three months eagerly. It was suddenly very important to impress Kreacher. He began by describing the huge scarlet steam train that had transported him from England to Scotland and how grand the castle appeared as he boated across the lake.
“I made friends, too,” Regulus told his caregiver proudly, standing up to retrieve the old copy of Hogwarts: A History from which Sirius had ripped out the page describing the sorting ceremony and made him read out loud over and over again. He sat back down next to Kreacher on the floor without thinking. “I’m in Slytherin, you know. That means I live here, look—“
Regulus opened the book to a page showing the Slytherin common room.
“Very good, Young Master,” Kreature croaked, tears welling in his eyes. “You is a very good boy.”
Swallowing against the tightness in his throat, Regulus scooted closer to the old elf. He hadn’t realized till that moment, but since Sirius would never congratulate him for it in a million years, Kreature’s approval of his Slytherin sorting was of paramount importance.
Maybe even more-so than his parents.
“Thank you.” He cleared his throat, embarrassed. “Um, look at this, though. This is the lake by the school. It’s really cool. One time, Evan and I went down there to skip stones and you wouldn’t believe what happened…”
It took a few minutes of interaction for Regulus to notice it, but eventually he did.
In his pocket, his cypress wand was giving off a strange, dull heat that had grown steadily through the fabric of his robes in the time that he’d ignored it.
Frowning, Regulus paused his tale and drew it into his hand, wrapping his fingers around the familiar wood.
“Young Master Regulus?”
How odd. It hadn’t done such a thing before and he hadn’t heard of it happening to any of his classmates with their new wands… But now that he thought about it, he’d seen other interactions that were hard to explain. For instance, Regulus had watched Barty get the shock of his life from his wand in November when he’d almost sat on it accidentally. Barty had cursed at it, calling it a temperamental twig as his three friends laughed, but when he’d picked it up, he’d done so with such care that the wand may as well have been a friend.
Regulus had known that each wand bestowed upon its wielder a unique gift, but this felt almost… interactive.
Was his wand trying to communicate ?
“That is… Young Master’s wand?”
Regulus looked up at Kreacher, whose eyes were locked on it apprehensively; even fearfully. He regarded Regulus’s wand like it may come alive on its own and cast the sort of hexes Walburga Black liked to share with the members of her household.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Regulus blurted out, horrified to bring about that reaction in the elf.
His wand’s temperature fluctuated again.
The familiar wisp of insight that had flared in rich technicolor around him in Ollivander’s wand shop made Regulus frown. It didn’t say so in words or pictures or anything so obvious as that, but he thought his wand really was trying to tell him something.
Something about Kreacher.
Now that his wand “mentioned” it, there was something different about the house-elf. Something almost skittish that hadn’t been there before. Kreacher had never shown quite this level of aversion to wands previously. He looked almost… haunted; hunted.
But why?
His wand seemed only too happy to be asked.
Under its urging, Regulus slowly reached out with a trembling hand to press his palm against the side of Kreacher’s skull where the air began to flicker oddly. It was like a heat haze had settled over part of his face, distorting the perception of the area in a wavy pattern. Tendrils of Regulus’s magic reached out to brush against the inconsistency, trying to short-circuit whatever it was.
Suited for illusionary magic and games of deception, Ollivander had said.
When the subtle network of Glamour Charms spider webbing across the house-elf’s face splintered and fell under his fingers, Regulus withdrew his hand at once in order to press it over his mouth in shock.
Without the concealing mesh of elvish spellwork, Kreacher was suddenly sporting a horrifying number of healed and half-healed injuries. There were bruises aplenty on the elf’s pale skin: arrays of plumb-purple and tempered-green that flowered from burn marks plus a swollen black eye. One of his ears had developed a new slit that had since healed a waxy pink along the edges. It was like someone—or perhaps Kreacher himself, at the behest of Walburga or Orion Black—had taken a knife to it.
It filled Regulus with a searing combination of nausea, despair, and outrage that had no outlet here in the hellish walls of his parents’ manor.
“What… happened ?” Regulus finally choked out behind his hand. His heart raced; his breath quickened.
Kreacher did not answer at first. He stood quite calmly to refill Regulus’s teacup from the silver set, revealing more horrifyingly still that one of his fingernails was missing.
“Nothing happened, Young Master.”
Regulus sank slowly to the floor, his wide eyes unable to stray from the hunched form of his lifelong caregiver. Sure, his parents were horrible people who did horrible things, but aside from the obvious outlier in which Walburga had cut out his tongue, their punishments were usually limited to occasional Stinging Hexes, scathing insults, and various psychological horrors. In the name of discipline or control or whatever else, Walburga Black had made Sirius’s and Regulus’s lives miserable, but Kreacher usually went ignored.
Apparently that was no longer so.
What… was he supposed to do ?
“Please. Young Master Regulus is not troubling himself. It is Kreacher’s honor to serve the House of Black.”
Snapping to attention, Regulus realized that he’d clenched his fists tight and his shoulders were shaking.
At some point, he’d started to cry.
Kreacher said nothing more as Regulus sniveled, swiping at his eyes and nose with the sleeve of his robes.
“Why is she like this?” he asked haltingly, staring down at his hands.
“It is being what’s done.”
Finally, he understood why Barty found that reason so objectionable whenever Regulus gave it.
There was no knock, but nevertheless Regulus’s door unexpectedly burst open, admitting Sirius and the last echoes of their mother’s screams.
“—DON’T KNOW WHERE YOU GET THESE IDEAS IN YOUR HEAD, SIRIUS BLACK, BUT YOU HAD BEST STAY OUT OF MY SIGHT FOR THE REST OF THE AFTERNOON!”
“OH YEAH!? HOW ABOUT FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE !!!”
With that, he slammed Regulus’s door with enough force that the windows on the opposite side of the room rattled.
Sirius looked pissed .
“Merlin, I can't wait until I’m seventeen!” his brother exclaimed, ripping off his Gryffindor outer robes and tossing them haphazardly to the floor. “This fucking house—“
Sirius cut himself off, his gaze snagging on the sight of Regulus huddled on the floor with a tear-stained face. His eyes flickered angrily from Regulus to Kreacher and back again.
“This fucking house!” he repeated, furious. He glared once more at Kreacher. “What the fuck did you do to…!?”
And then, finally, Sirius seemed to register Kreacher’s injuries.
His words trailed off, leaving him genuinely speechless.
But if Regulus thought for a minute any solidarity would come from the realization that Walburga Black held the same contempt for her sons as she did her elf, he was quickly disillusioned.
“ You !” Kreacher’s features curled in a snarl. His frail hands shook as he narrowed his bruised left eye. “You is causing this! Look at poor Kreacher! Look at what you made my Mistress do! ”
Regulus gasped, scrambling to his feet. “ Kreacher !”
“If you is a good boy, Mistress would be happy! But owl after owl comes—each terrible deed, Mistress hurts Kreacher for—!”
“Because she’s a wicked bitch!” Sirius finally got out through his shock. His voice shook faintly, betraying his upset. “She’s a terrible, awful person, Kreacher! You must know that!”
“No!”
“What do you mean ‘no!?’ Look at your face !”
“MISTRESS IS LOVING KREACHER!”
Silence settled in the room.
A thick soup of it.
Then:
“I don’t think love looks like that,” Sirius replied darkly.
“You is a nasty boy,” Kreacher hissed. “Your fault. Your fault!”
“I’M TWELVE!” Sirius shouted back, clenching his fists at his sides. “I’m a kid —and… and you’re a bloody monster if you think we deserve the way she treats us! And crazy if you think you do!”
“If you is a better son, she would stop hurting us,” the elf whispered. “My poor Mistress—“
“I hate you,” Sirius informed him bitterly. “I HATE YOU! You go on groveling at our mother’s feet and worshiping her when she’s not even here—for what? She’s still going to kick you and curse you. She cut out Reggie’s tongue , Kreacher, you STUPID GIT !”
Regulus pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, rubbing the scar with wide eyes. His heart was racing like a hummingbird as his gaze flickered between the only two people to ever truly comfort him. Who was he supposed to side with? Sirius was being cruel–horribly, horribly cruel–but Kreacher… how could Kreacher think any of them deserved this?
But Sirius wasn’t done. “Since you really are that stupid, I’m going to let you know this now: she won’t stop. Not because of anything I do or don’t do, but because she likes it. She likes hurting us! How have you not realized that!?”
“Mistress loves Kreacher,” the house-elf repeated fervently, reaching up to pull at the slit in his ear almost ritualistically.
It began to split open again.
Regulus pressed his palm to mouth, choking back a sob.
“STOP IT! STOP IT RIGHT NOW! SHE DOESN'T LOVE YOU! SHE DOESN’T LOVE ANY OF US!”
For a long minute, there was nothing but the sound of the three of them breathing hard, stuck in a triangle of limb-shaking adrenalin. It was awful; the whole thing was awful.
But it got worse.
“You’re a pathetic coward,” Sirius told Kreacher after a beat, ignoring his brother’s quiet sniffling. “Say whatever you want. I don’t care if you clean her high heels by licking them, but at least let your insanity be worth something. If there’s ever an opportunity for you to take a punishment meant for Reggie, will you do it? I’m not ordering you, I’m asking you. It’s your choice.”
Regulus reared back, horrified. “Sirius, no ! I don’t want—“
But Sirius just spoke over him. “And I’ll do the same. I hate your guts and I can more than live with you reciprocating, but I will protect Reggie. That’s what I’m going to do. What about you?”
“I don’t want this! Stop it! Stop it! Please , Sirius!”
For once, his protests fell on deaf ears. For once, Kreacher and Sirius had each other’s full attention.
“I is doing this,” Kreacher agreed, glaring at Sirius with the same rage that reflected back at him. “And you is doing the same. You is taking my Young Master Regulus’s place whenever possible. You is promising! Promise now !”
“I promise. I swear it.”
It wasn’t a vow—not a magical one, anyway—but Regulus felt sick with the finality of their words and the grim determination in their faces.
Merlin, he didn’t want this.
But, like everything else in this terrible place, what he wanted didn’t matter.
Regulus was so bloody angry with Sirius and Kreacher that he refused to speak to either of them at first.
He wasn’t sure who he was more angry at. It was difficult to stay mad at Kreacher, whose elven Glamor Charms had been reapplied to conceal what he knew to be a patchwork of bruising that colored his skin. It was equally impossible to stay mad at Sirius, who ran tireless interference between Regulus and their mother, who seemed to have grown madder still in their four-month absence.
Stinging Hexes bit at his older brother’s skin where clothing hid their marks.
The concentration of Glamor Charms expanded from Kreacher’s face to include his hands.
And Regulus didn’t want this; didn’t ask for it.
“You don’t have to like what I did,” Sirius told him grimly as Regulus pretended not to hear a few days into all of this, carefully studying a book on healing magic from the library and prepared to make an attempt at mending the x -shaped bruise on Sirius’s right shoulder. “But I asked Kreacher. I never ordered him. He’s doing this because he wants you to be protected, Reggie. It’s the only thing I’ll ever respect him for.”
“Good Young Master Regulus is not troubling himself over Kreacher and Bad Young Master Sirius,” Kreacher grumbled when Regulus ambushed him in the kitchen later on, trying to convince him not to perpetuate his brother’s mad request. “You is a good boy. You is eating this scone.”
Neither of the pair would recant their promise.
It didn't take long for Regulus and Sirius to fall back into old habits while they were home for the holidays. Though still resentful, Regulus didn’t speak to anyone but Sirius and Sirius did all his talking for him. Regulus had even started holding onto his brother’s robes again as they wandered the manor together—a habit that had taken a while for him to break last summer.
Still, it wasn’t just Regulus to blame for the reemergence of their codependent habits. Sirius enabled it by doing his part: ordering his little brother around constantly, deciding where they would go and what they would do, and often carrying nearly one-sided conversations supported only by Regulus’s looks and gestures that he knew like the back of his hand.
Things were different in some ways, though.
The most obvious example was when Regulus would go visit Evan next door--especially on the Rosier heir's birthday. Sirius flatly refused to accompany him but seemed to lay in wait for Regulus to get home afterward, meeting his little brother with a wall of chatter and distraction, dragging him off to do whatever Sirius had decided they would do. He didn’t seem to like when Regulus was out of his control and especially didn’t seem to appreciate the concept of his little brother wanting to spend time with someone that wasn’t him.
And then there was the shouting.
“EXPLAIN WHY I RECEIVED A LETTER SAYING YOU BLEW UP A TOILET!”
“YOU CHARMED THE SCHOOL LIBRARY BOOKS TO SING ?”
“YOU LOCKED ALL THE OWLS OUT OF THE OWLERY!? WHY WOULD THAT EVEN OCCUR TO YOU!?”
Their mother had always been unpleasant, but there had never been this much shouting before. And of course, for every grievance she brought up against his brother, Sirius had two more to answer with.
“I HATE YOUR STUPID SOCIETY FRIENDS! WHY DO THEY HAVE TO COME HERE SO OFTEN!?”
“YOU DON’T EVEN CARE ABOUT ME! YOU'RE JUST PISSED I EMBARRASSED YOU!”
“I’M NOT GOING! I WANT TO GO SEE MY FRIENDS, NOT BLOODY LUCIUS MALFOY!
“Finally an evening off from the nagging!” Sirius exclaimed in an undertone as they arrived to Black Castle on December 21st for Black Yule. The great castle was composed of centuries-old blue-gray limestone with tall ceilings and massive fireplaces, all identical to the one they’d just stepped out of. Their parents were greeting their grandparents, Lord Arcturus and Lady Melania Black, and were ignoring the children shuffled off to the side. “I’m losing my hearing from that harpy!”
“You don’t exactly help things along.”
“That’s not my fault,” Sirius insisted. “She’s the worst! I can’t get away with anything while mother is around. She’s always bossing me about! Telling me what to do or where to go!”
“I wonder what that would feel like,” Regulus muttered.
“Sirius. Regulus,” their mother spoke sharply, summoning them to her side.
They had seen Arcturus Black, the man Regulus had been named after, more recently than Melania Black only because he had come to Regulus’s aid last summer when their mother had nearly killed him. His steel gray eyes focused on Sirius as they approached, then looked over Regulus as though searching for some sign that he might be unwell.
“Hello, dear boys,” Grandmother Melania cooed from his side, leaning on her expensive cane. Her personal attendant hovered nearby, ready at any moment to whisk the elderly witch away should she look about to fall or speak nonsense from her fading memory. Their grandmother’s mind healer, Healer Song, was of the opinion that she would soon be unable to regulate what she said entirely. If she vocalized anything embarrassing, Regulus knew that her handler was under strict instructions to spirit her away from the room immediately.
Unlike most of his family members, Regulus had never had a particularly bad conversation with their grandmother before. She was certainly old-fashioned but rarely took part in political conversations, preferring to listen rather than speak. As their small group shifted towards the ballroom, she asked Sirius what elective courses he planned to take in his upcoming third year at Hogwarts and didn’t interrupt as his brother answered.
“I’m signing up for Divination next year,” Sirius said carefully. “ It would be brilliant to be able to know the future.”
“An acceptable choice,” their grandfather nodded. “Even Blacks who do not master all of the divination techniques usually find one or two that draw out their seer blood. Your grandmother was particularly gifted at reading oracle bones.”
“It makes you wish for the days Muggle hunting was legal,” Grandmother Melania said casually. “We kept the bones of them for divination rituals. I never did have as accurate readings as I did putting those Muggle bones in my fire!”
What the…?
Regulus looked to his brother with wide, horrified eyes, silently seeking out some indication of how he was meant to react.
Unfortunately, Sirius looked completely taken aback too. He was staring at their grandmother like he’d never seen her before.
But then the conversation moved on so fast that there was no time to do or say anything—even if Regulus did have any idea how to respond to something like that. People were starting to notice their presence and a few distant relatives hailed their parents, distracting them, and allowing Regulus to push up against his brother’s side.
“What the fuck!?” Sirius whispered urgently in his ear. “Muggle hunting? Do you think she was serious ?”
Regulus chewed his lip. “Yes, I think she was.”
“Our family is fucking crazy! That’s unhinged !”
“Well,” their grandmother hobbled closer to them, her attendant following. The boys quickly leaned away from each other. “You two stay out of trouble, now!” She clasped Sirius’s hand, then Regulus’s. In each, she left several galleons. “For sweets, you know,” she tittered to herself, and, with that, toddled away.
“Sirius.”
Their father had circled back for him.
“ Ugh .” Sirius made a face at his brother, shoving the money into his pocket before slotting into place at Orion Black’s side, reluctantly braced to perform his duties as heir.
Regulus watched him go, already wishing that Sirius would come back.
The only benefit to Sirius leaving was that he took their mother and father with him.
It still didn’t mean Regulus was happy about it, though. Every year aside from the last, Regulus had spent Yule hanging off his brother. There was no need to figure out where to walk or who to talk to, because Sirius decided those things for them.
He looked hopefully around for his friends, trying to catch a hint of Dorcas’s neat braids or Evan’s rich chocolate hair. Thankfully, he spotted Dorcas loitering near the floor to ceiling windows, trying to swipe hors d'oeuvres from the floating plates emerging from the kitchen doors before they made their circuit rotating around the room to serve guests.
Regulus waited until she was suitably distracted before creeping out of the crowd and clearing his throat right behind her.
Dorcas snatched her hand back from the tray of red wine passing by, trying to look innocent. Upon noticing who it was, her entire face brightened. “Reg!”
She was wearing a very nice set of dark blue dress robes that suited her dark skin tone and her smoke-black corkscrew curls were piled in a neat twist of braids atop her head. She was taller than Regulus now, which hadn’t been the case when they’d first met.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying for the wine,” Dorcas answered shamelessly. “I just want to taste it.”
“Then why don’t you just take one?”
“Well, it’s charmed against underaged kids from picking it up, isn’t it?”
Regulus stared at her, confused. “What? No.” As the next silver tray passed by, Regulus reached out and plucked a glass of chardonnay from it.
Dorcas leaned closer.
“How did you do that!? I definitely tried that! Watch!”
As Dorcas made a grab for a glass on the same tray, it swerved neatly out of her reach without spilling a drop.
“It’s actually charmed against people who know they aren’t allowed to have alcohol,” Evan informed them, emerging from the direction of the floo room. “My father uses the same spell to keep my drunkard uncle from getting pissed at gatherings. Reg knows he can have it and you know you can’t, so there you go.”
“That’s not fair!” Dorcas protested.
Evan shrugged. He looked very nice in black dress robes trimmed with silver. His seaglass-green eyes stood out against the dark fabric. “I wouldn’t be able to get the glass off the tray either, if that makes you feel any better. I know I’m not allowed.”
“It’s not even good,” Regulus assured them both. “Wine is disgusting. I’m not even going to drink it.”
“Give it here!”
The two children excitedly took experimental sips of the white wine, each making sour faces as soon as they did so.
“Ugh! That’s vile!” Dorcas gasped, screwing up her face against the taste.
“It’s like furniture polish .”
Regulus grinned, ditching the still-full wine glass on a passing tray full of dirty dishware.
The three of them huddled there in their corner for at least an hour, listening to gossip Dorcas had found out from her cousin in Ravenclaw and occasionally interacting with adults who came up to them when they had no choice. At one point, Dorcas snorted into her glass of pumpkin juice, her eyes on the dance floor.
Regulus followed her gaze.
In a rare display of hard-earned skill, Sirius was gliding across the dancefloor with Marcus Fischer. His was the latest name brought up at the dinner table by their mother on her quest to find the most profitable match for her oldest son. The Fischers were real estate moguls in Berlin and extremely wealthy as a result.
“What’s he doing?” Dorcas asked, laughing. “He looks like he’s about to scream.”
“It’s another one of those betrothal hopefuls,” Regulus answered. “And the reason he looks like he’s about to scream is because he probably is.”
“Betrothal?” Evan leaned forward. “My parents haven’t found me one yet. And if they do, I don’t want to know.”
“Lucky you,” Dorcas said grimly. “Mine’s been arranged for two years already.”
Regulus and Evan both gaped at her. “To who !?”
“Never you mind. But you’re right, Evan. When they find you one, it’s better not to know.”
The mood dropped precipitously after that.
Regulus sipped his hot spiced cider, watching Sirius twirl gracefully around the room with Fischer. Despite his brother’s resentment at being forced to do so, he was an excellent dancer. The boy in his arms looked thrilled to be there and Sirius would be furious to know that he looked every inch the part of heir to the Black dynasty.
“Let’s sneak outside,” Dorcas said to the two boys as the song ended and the room politely applauded their hosts’ grandson. “I want to explore.”
The boys agreed that this was a good plan and when it seemed like the moment was right, all three of them hustled to the nearest balcony door and scuttled past the sparse groups of people lingering under the outdoor heating charms, disappearing into the darkness of the grounds.
“Do you think Sirius will be upset that I’ve ditched him?” Regulus worried as they crept past the gardens, dodging the light flooding out from the high windows of the dining room.
“I think he’d want you to ditch in his honor.”
“I think he’d ditch if he thought he’d get away with it.”
Regulus led his friends through the low-lit trails winding along the stream separating Black Castle from its neighbors. As they did so, Dorcas lamented her misfortune of living in Witcher’s Grove, the magical county due-north of Morgana Hill, when her two friends could so easily just walk right over to see each other.
“My mother is starting to get on my case about who I visit, for how long, and on what day,” Dorcas explained, picking up a stone and trying to skip it on the water. “She says proper ladies have to give notice before they visit. What the fuck kind of notice do you two need? You have no lives.”
“Guys,” a voice hissed from the woods.
Immediately, the three Slytherins screamed, scrambling to get away.
“It’s just me, you idiots!” Barty Crouch Jr. exclaimed loudly at their retreating forms, jumping out from his hiding place behind a bush.
As one, they turned back.
“ Barty !?” Regulus gasped, surprised. Merlin, it was ! He reached over and tugged the blond through the wards. The Black blood coursing through his veins allowed him to invite Barty in, making the previously impenetrable wards give way. “Are you out of your mind!? How did you even get out there!?”
“Universal Portkey,” Barty replied through chattering teeth as they all huddled around him. “My father had it in his office for Ministry of Magic emergencies. Figured I’d take it for a joyride.”
“You are crazy,” Dorcas marveled at this horrendous plan, staring at the bright golden ribbon in their friend's fist. “Those are like 100 galleons each! You’re going to get in such trouble!”
“In my defense, it was this or listen to grandmother rant about how the ministry is going downhill these days. Also, I didn’t realize the wards would punt me into a forest .”
“Maybe we should get you inside,” Evan suggested, pushing Barty’s shivering form towards the castle lights. “You look frozen solid.”
“Inside!?” Regulus hissed, alarmed at the idea. “We can’t! What if someone spots him!?”
“There are over five hundred people here in various states of drunkenness, Reg. We’ll just sneak him in.”
“Besides, he looks the part!” Dorcus grinned, picking a twig out of Barty’s blond hair. “Look at you, all dressed up!”
She was right. Despite his ruffled appearance, the Crouch heir was dressed handsomely, if impractically, in smart hunter-green dress robes and dark leather shoes. More evidence that he had just escaped his family’s Yuletide celebrations.
Regulus straightened his own robes and smoothed his hair self-consciously in the face of his dilemma. He desperately didn’t want to look uptight in front of his friends and certainly not in front of Barty. He wanted to look… cool and carefree; like Sirius. So what would Sirius do in this situation?
Come on and see what a rule breaker I am, Sirius would smirk, beckoning his followers along for the ride.
But oh, his mother would kill him.
But his friends would think he was daring ; exciting, even.
“Regulus?”
Biting his lip, Regulus fought to give a smile. “Yeah, okay, whatever. Let’s… let’s sneak in. But you’ve got to keep a low profile, okay?”
“Sure, sure. So, what stuffy bastards are we avoiding?” Barty asked as he rubbed his palms up and down his arms for warmth. They began moving back towards the castle.
“Anyone with the last name Black.”
“Ah, don’t be so hard on yourself, Reg,” Barty grinned despite his obvious chill, nudging Regulus’s shoulder with his own. “You’re not that bad.”
They made their way inside to reclaim their previous spot by the kitchen doors. It was warm and Barty let out a long sigh of relief as the frost of the outdoors was chased away by the carefully applied thermostatic charms which kept the room from becoming too hot or too cold. They arrived just in time to see Sirius finishing a waltz with another betrothal hopeful now, though this one Regulus didn’t know. Dorcas eagerly explained the charms preventing her and Evan from taking alcohol, lamenting that Regulus alone seemed able to defy it.
“You didn’t even like it,” Evan pointed out rudely. “You looked like someone was trying to kill you when you drank it.”
“So did you!”
“Yes, but I’m not still on about it— hey !”
Despite his claims, Evan looked as indignant as Dorcas when Barty reached out and plucked a flute of champagne from the tray circulating nearby.
“I really doubt your law-and-order father lets you drink,” Dorcas accused.
“You’ve got me there,” Barty mocked, taking a sip. “But mother does. I’m allowed a small glass with dinner.”
He made a face at the taste.
Evan pounced on that. “Ha! You don’t like it either!”
“I don’t, but I have to make sure you peasants know who’s really in charge around here.”
Regulus rolled his eyes, willing himself to relax. Things were going fine. No one had noticed Barty, who really did look like he belonged there with the expensive cut of his dress robes and charming smile. His friends were having a good time and, despite himself, Regulus found himself enjoying Black Yule far more than he usually did.
Everything was fine.
“Well well well!”
Regulus’s blood froze as all four of them twisted around to face Sirius, who had just swaggered up to them.
Sirius clapped Barty on the shoulder much harder than necessary. “Crouch, what an unexpected surprise!”
“Black,” Barty sniffed, knocking Sirius’s hand from his shoulder as though it had dirt on it. “Enjoying being trotted out like a showpony?”
“Almost as much as I like seeing your ugly mug standing around breathing my little brother’s air. What are you even doing here? I can’t picture Lord Crouch approving of you making friends with the dark families.”
“Aww, you think we’re just friends, Black?” Barty fluttered his eyelashes mockingly. “I’m only here to try and get myself betrothed to you. I hear you’re trying people on. Do you think I’m in with half a chance? Nice dancing by the way. Very… posh .”
Sirius scowled. “You know, I don't recall you being on the guest list. Maybe I should ask my dear mother if she made a mistake.”
“Sirius, don’t ,” Regulus half-ordered, half-pled as he fought back the blinding panic of knowing they’d been caught out. The last thing he wanted was for their mother to see Barty here. Sirius had to understand that that would be a disaster.
“He’s not even supposed to be here, Reggie! He’s a menace!”
“Aw, cheers, Black!”
Regulus widened his eyes. “Sirius. Please don’t. I let him in.”
And she’ll punish me if she finds out went unsaid, but judging from Sirius’s darkening look, he understood that all the same.
“This is a stupid idea, Reggie.”
“It’s—it’s fine , Sirius,” Regulus replied desperately even though he wanted nothing more than to agree. “Just… please?”
As expected, Sirius quickly folded.
“Just keep your stupid mate in check, Reggie. And keep him away from our mother. He’s fucking annoying.”
“I will,” Regulus promised, standing on Barty’s foot when the blond opened his mouth indignantly. “Let’s go, c’mon.”
“Bye, mate !”
Sirius watched them go with a conflicted expression, and Regulus and his two friends had to usher Barty away with moderate force as the blond made faces back.
“You’re supposed to be sneaking in, you idiot!” Evan hissed.
“I can’t help it,” Barty claimed, finally cooperating enough for them to let go of him. “Black is too easy to rile up. It’d be a waste not to.”
Regulus steered them towards a low table near the large wishing fire at the side of the lounge area, which happened to be as far away as possible from where his mother was socializing with a handful of her tea ladies. It had a variety of supplies for letter-writing with dozens of different inks and parchment colors. A dozen small children around ages six to nine were scribbling industriously in their seats, hiding their barely-legible writing from the view of people passing by. They were, undoubtedly, preparing their last-minute notes to toss into the flames of the wishing fire.
“Ha! I can’t believe those kids really think a fire is going to grant their wishes,” Dorcas scoffed, tossing her head arrogantly. When none of them joined her, she looked back at them, confused.
Regulus carefully avoided her eye, a pink flush coloring his cheeks as he recalled how stupid he would have looked if Sirius hadn’t told him the truth of the matter. Evan was looking away too, but not Barty, who scowled at her.
“No one asked you, did they, Meadowes?”
Dorcas seemed to sense her faux pas and immediately began to double down.
“You know what, Crouch —!”
“…this new dark lord has it right. It’s about time someone did something about these mudbloods overrunning our community…”
The snippet of conversation from over his shoulder caught Regulus’s attention, pulling his mind away from the ensuing argument between his two friends as Evan reluctantly presided over it.
It was Grandmother Melania, speaking to her sister, Mrs. Macmillan. And since they were both decrepit things with barely any hearing left, it wasn’t hard to eavesdrop on their conversation from a distance.
“He’s a visionary. The future, if you ask me.”
“Have you met him, Helena?” his grandmother asked, intrigued.
“Oh yes. I imagine it won’t be long until he makes contact with the Blacks. He wants to recruit all the old families, you know. A new world order, they’re calling it.”
“As long as I can have my Muggle hunting back, I’m already in favor.”
The sisters laughed heartily as though hunting people for sport wasn’t their topic of discussion.
“He’ll come for you,” Mrs. Macmillan promised.
The words echoed in Regulus’s head.
He’ll come for you.
He’ll come for you.
He’s coming for you.
A shiver of foresight settled on his shoulders.
Notes:
Next time:
Regulus surprises himself by enjoying Remus Lupin's quiet company in the library, though he does wonder about his new acquaintance's fascination with books on magical wolves. Later on, Regulus accidentally reveals a new facet of his mother's insanity, making his three friends highly suspicious of his home life.
Chapter 12: Friends and Healers
Summary:
This time:
Regulus surprises himself by enjoying Remus Lupin's quiet company in the library, though he does wonder about his new acquaintance's fascination with books on magical wolves. Later on, Regulus accidentally reveals a new facet of his mother's insanity, making his three friends highly suspicious of his home life.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Unlike the households that Regulus read about in books, the morning after Yule was not a good one in Grimmauld Place.
“Sit still, Sirius,” their mother snapped, gripping her teacup’s delicate handle like a vice.
Sirius, who had been bouncing his leg over his other knee for the past few minutes, stopped, but scowled about it. Their mother insisted on gifts being opened after breakfast, so the two boys were made to wait silently until their parents finished their morning routine.
The adults continued their conversation.
“And apparently Andromeda has been spending time with this boy at school. This mudblood.” Their mother screwed up her face in disgust, stirring her drink aggressively.
“While she’s betrothed to the Avery heir?” their father asked, turning to the next page of the Daily Prophet.
“Yes! It’s scandalous!”
Andromeda, their first cousin, was younger than Bellatrix but older than Narcissa. She got on well with Sirius, but Regulus had always felt a bit shy around her. Andy was fiery like Sirius and clever like Narcissa. While they didn’t have anything in common, she was nice to Regulus and had always tried her best to include him in games when they were small.
“Good for her. Avery is a prick,” Sirius muttered.
Walburga glared at him. “She’ll be lucky to keep this match if word gets out about who she’s been associating with!”
“Merlin himself couldn’t convince me to marry Alvin Avery.”
Regulus grimaced as their mother shot one of her Stinging Hexes at Sirius. At least this seemed to distract them away from their conversation and tea, because they all soon retired to the incredibly ornate family room that, despite being impeccably decorated by Kreacher, looked very cold and impersonal. The only relatively positive thing about it was the colorful gifts stacked in two neat columns in front of the fireplace.
He and Sirius opened their presents largely independent of each other, his brother occasionally commenting on the contents as their parents settled in with fresh coffees, the Daily Prophet, and Society magazine. Their mother had forgotten to tell Kreacher to remove the Cleansweep 10 racing broom from his shopping list for Sirius’s Yule gifts and looked slightly sour as her oldest son exclaimed over it in delight.
“Now we can race each other on the same model broom, Reggie!” Sirius grinned.
Humming noncommittally, Regulus picked up his next present as Sirius obsessed over his new toy. This one was wrapped less neatly than any of the other items he’d received and light in his hand. Tearing the paper away, Regulus was surprised to find an imperfectly-knitted green scarf nestled within the tissue paper.
Skimming the bottom of the card that had come with it, Regulus’s eyes stuttered on the signoff.
Cheers,
James
“Who is that from, Regulus?”
He tensed, recognizing the suspicion in his mother’s tone. All his pureblood friends had more than enough money to order a perfectly made scarf to gift him for Yule, so, to her assessment, who else but someone common would send along a scarf with uneven knots in the yarn and such asymmetrical form?
“My friend Barty knits,” Regulus blurted out.
Next to him, Sirius snorted.
“Bartemius Crouch Jr.?” their father clarified.
Heart racing, Regulus fought to keep his expression even. Barty had escaped Black Yule unscathed and unidentified by anyone who would protest his presence, though he wondered what his relatives would have done if confronted with the Crouch heir. Barty’s family was among the Sacred 28—a list of families considered to have the oldest heritage lines—but the Crouches were also famously light-aligned. It was hard to predict how their mother would react to his and Barty’s association.
Surely better than finding out he was receiving gifts from a Potter.
“Yes.”
“Hmm… He’s not very good, is he?”
“Well, he’s only just learning,” Regulus insisted quickly, relieved at her neutrality.
His mother had already lost interest, returning to her magazine with a sniff. “He needs practice.”
When the rest of his family had busied themselves, Regulus finally chanced it. Sliding the small card packed with the scarf into his palm, Regulus subtly propped it up against his bent knee to read it in full.
Merry Yule, Reg!
I made this for you! I hope you like green. It’s a good color on you. I’m still learning! How was Yule? Did you get any good books? Mine was great! I built a whole snow castle by myself! I think it would have been more fun if you and Sirius had been here. Write me back if you can!
Cheers,
James
A soft, fluttering feeling settled in his stomach like feathers. Regulus could feel heat entering his cheeks as he quickly shoved the message into his pocket, his heart racing.
James Potter had sent him a gift. Well, it was more like ten pieces of yarn held together by static electricity and a prayer, but still.
What did that mean?
Well, in pureblood circles, sending such a personal gift to someone you weren’t already close friends with read a lot like the start of a courtship. Except Regulus doubted very much that Potter’s parents had written Orion and Walburga Black on their son's behalf to express interest in securing Regulus's hand in marriage.
So if it wasn’t a betrothal gift, what was it?
Did Sirius know about it?
Regulus didn’t know and did not appreciate not knowing. His gaze slid sideways to eye his brother, who looked oblivious as he unwrapped a paperbound book called Occlumency and Legilimency: Skill and Exercises. Still, that didn’t mean anything. His brother could keep a straight face if it was for a good cause.
When they were dismissed from the room ten minutes later, Regulus asked him about it.
“Did you tell Potter to send me a gift?”
Sirius looked at him strangely, pausing from admiring his new broom as they walked. “A what?”
Regulus held up the little scarf. Sirius snatched it away, staring at it before scrunching up his face in a way that made Regulus cautious.
Sirius had always had a problem sharing things that he considered his, in a general kind of way. Though their family was very wealthy, there was a certain instability in their household that Regulus hesitated to describe. Nothing that was yours was really yours and anything could be taken away at any time. They had no control over their lives, and in fact the only thing Sirius seemed to have any real say over was Regulus himself. The number of times Regulus’s parenting needs had been left in Sirius’s too-small hands was frankly shameful, to the point where it now didn’t even occur to Regulus to go to the adults in his life for comfort or assistance. His first and last choice was always his brother.
Maybe that was why Sirius had hated when their cousins used to come over and play with his toys and why he’d thrown a proper tantrum whenever Regulus had been invited over for a play date with Evan when they were still very small. His jealousy was undeniably the reason Regulus and Evan had never been close until starting Hogwarts together.
The flash of irritation that sprung over Sirius’s face was therefore not entirely unexpected.
“That scarf is ugly,” Sirius snapped, tossing it back at Regulus, who scrambled to catch it. He hoisted his new Cleansweep 10 aggressively over his shoulder. “Get your broom, Reggie. We’re going flying.”
“But I didn’t bring mine home from school.”
Sirius looked very frustrated by this. “Well I can’t practice by myself, now can I!? You’ll have to use my old one. Or you can use your baby broom. Either way, you’re coming with me!”
As he was dragged off by his big brother, Regulus couldn’t help but wonder.
If Sirius didn’t ask him to send it… what if James just… likes me?
January
“A Wigtown Wanderers jumper? Really?”
Barty, who had been recounting his daring escape from and subsequent return to Crouch Hall over Yule, grinned up at Dorcas from his seat in their train compartment. “Hey, Dorcas! Did you like your present? Come on, just wear it. It’ll trick people into thinking you have good taste.”
Dorcas shut the door politely behind her before promptly lunging for Barty, attempting to wrestle him from his place by the window. Rolling his eyes, Regulus stood, abandoning his seat next to Barty for the one next to Evan, who barely glanced up from his book to witness the battle.
“The Holyhead Harpies are the best team in the league, Crouch! I’m not wearing their rival’s colors! You’re delusional to think otherwise!”
“No, you’re delusional! Ouch! Quit hitting me!”
“Quit hitting me!”
“I still need to order that birthday gift,” Regulus said to Evan at a normal volume, ignoring the shrieking from the bench opposite them.
Sirius’s birthday would fall on a Wednesday this year and Evan, with whom Regulus had discussed this subject during his own quiet birthday celebration over the break in Rosier Castle, set his book down in his lap in order to discuss it. “I told you what I think you should get.”
Evan had offered two suggestions: one to be antagonistic (a canvas cutout of Regulus that Sirius could talk at so Regulus himself wouldn’t have to bother listening) and another which Regulus actually thought was a good idea. It was a pair of communicating handheld mirrors that Evan showed him in a magazine as they lounged about his bedroom in Morgana Hill.
“Will it get to Hogwarts in time?”
“I think so. February 1st is still a few weeks away.”
Dorcas straightened up from her tussle with Barty, looking surprised and strangely flattered. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.”
Clearly she didn’t know Sirius very well. If Regulus didn’t get him a birthday present, he was pretty sure his older brother would throw a fit.
“For survival reasons, I’d better.”
“I can’t believe we weren’t allowed to come to Evan’s birthday party!” Barty exclaimed hotly, reasserting the indignation he’d conveyed in his furious letter explaining the situation in December. Barty’s father had banned his son from “associating with families of dubious character” and Dorcas’s mother had been firmly against their friend publicly appearing at the home of an unbetrothed young man.
“Improper,” Dorcas had written her mother’s reasoning, letting them know exactly what she’d thought of that. “How is it that Reg is allowed to visit, then!? Why isn’t anyone worried about his propriety!?”
“What do you and Reg even do when you hang out together?” Dorcas asked in a judgmental tone. “You two don’t have a stick of humor without us.”
“I bet they read.”
“Or played chess.”
“Or–”
“As a matter of fact, we do!” Evan interrupted, annoyed, as Regulus rolled his eyes beside him. “And we had some peace and quiet for once, without you two squawking on–”
“Squawking!?”
Regulus couldn’t help but notice that Dorcas was in a particularly good mood since arriving back at Hogwarts. The only oddity was that she kept speaking very pointedly about certain clothes or books that she would like to have, which at first made Regulus very nervous, thinking that she hadn’t liked her Yule gift. That concern was tossed aside their second day back when Dorcas and Barty, speaking delightedly about their Beaters practice kits from Regulus and Evan, had decreed that they were going to the pitch to practice during their free period, and never mind the snow. At first, they had tried to drag Regulus with them, but he had quickly ducked into a secret passage that Sirius had shown him weeks ago, abandoning Evan, who had been too slow to follow.
Though Regulus was sure to face Evan’s retribution later, for now, he was warm and comfortable in the library, manning a small two-person desk.
“Hello, Regulus.”
The Slytherin looked up, surprised to see Remus Lupin standing in front of him, alone.
It was always slightly jarring to see one of his brother’s close friends unaccompanied. The four of them were practically a hive mind, unable to function without each other; but if Regulus had to pick one among them that held their shared brain cell most frequently, it would certainly be Lupin.
“Hi,” Regulus offered politely, trying to hide his confusion at being approached.
Apparently he wasn’t doing a very good job because Lupin smiled at him knowingly. “Can I sit?” he gestured to the seat across from him.
That Tuesday afternoon happened to be the day before the third, fifth, and seventh years’ big Transfiguration exams and it showed. Most tables had been claimed by twitchy-looking Ravenclaws being reassured by their Hufflepuff friends, but there were pockets of other houses represented as well. A group of Slytherin third years gathered around a table half-hidden in the history section made Regulus avoid that area. Among them were Lucius Malfoy and Alvin Avery, who always seemed to be in the process of vying for social superiority within their Slytherin year group and had a habit of making their drama everyone’s problem.
“...Sure.”
The boy smiled at him, setting his things down. “Thanks.”
Regulus expected Lupin to start talking—a fair assumption, since Sirius and James never shut up. Pettigrew seemed like a reasonable sort, but he’d never really interacted with him in a vacuum, so it was hard to tell.
But no, Lupin just pulled out his Defense textbook and began to read.
It was… pleasant, actually. The closest Regulus could compare it to was being around Evan solo this past winter, who could maintain a comfortable silence for hours. It was rare that Regulus and Evan were without Dorcas and Barty at Hogwarts, however, and the latter two avoided silence like they might die from it.
The book Regulus was reading from was interesting enough that time passed quickly as he buried himself in it. Like every other pureblood child, Regulus had always been warned not to let anyone else use his wand, and vice versa. There had never been a specific explanation to go with it other than it simply wasn’t proper, but Sirius had cast magic with his. What were the consequences of that?
In general, it seemed that wands were more likely to simply not work at all for a foreign wielder. However, should a person successfully do so, the book warned that sneaky siphoning bonds could accidentally form if you let your wand’s loyalty continue to be divided. Subtle links that fed your magic to another person crept in like parasites with repeated use by another party. Included was a grim, animated depiction of one wizard growing stronger and healthier as the wizard next to him became frail and fragile.
It was enough to make Regulus press his palm over his wand pocket to reassure himself.
“What are you reading about?”
Regulus was surprised when Lupin asked the question nearly an hour later. He was well into his book now, struggling along with a dictionary to look up what felt like every other word, and he wasn't exactly in the mood for conversation.
Still, Sirius had not raised him to be impolite.
“Wand lore. It’s required reading.”
“Really?” Lupin frowned. “What class requires that?”
“It’s called ‘How to Survive the Black Family: Year Eleven’. It’s a mandatory series that goes all the way up to year seventeen, if you live that long.”
“Sirius has said something along those lines before. You two sound like each other.”
“He’s my best friend,” Regulus said immediately. “We’re always going to be best friends,” he warned, in case Lupin thought it possible to usurp him in Sirius’s life.
“I don’t doubt that,” the blond boy said kindly.
“...What are you reading?” Regulus offered after a short, awkward pause, feeling a bit ridiculous.
Lupin showed him the cover of his book. At first, the words were quite clear: Defensive Magic for Beginners, Grade 2.
Suddenly, that strange rush of heat from his wand pocket that had accosted him on his first night back in Grimmauld Place made him press his palm against his thigh. That strange feeling was back; that insight that things weren’t as they appeared.
Look closer, his wand seemed to say. See beyond.
Those same tendrils of magic as before that had refused to be deceived by Kreacher’s Glamour Charms reached out like the arms of an octopus or the lace of a jellyfish. Regulus had no control over any of it, watching wisps of magic from under his skin translate into invisible spider silk strands, brushing against the cover of Remus’s book. The words began to flicker on the page like a faulty light until they abruptly rearranged themselves.
Regulus frowned at the new title before his magic allowed it to fade once more. “Why are you reading that book?”
Lupin raised a brow. “What do you mean? It’s the Defense textbook.”
The younger boy continued to stare. “You shouldn’t read it. It’s a cursed book.”
“Well, it’s a bit dry at parts, but I don’t know about cursed.”
“It’s supposed to give you nightmares.”
That seemed to startle Lupin, but not in the way Regulus intended. “It’s just a textbook, Regulus,” he said in a soothing voice, to which the Slytherin immediately bristled.
Regulus was used to having his concerns dismissed by his family, but something about being at Hogwarts made him far less inclined to back down. He was someone here. He had friends, good grades, and he mattered. He wasn’t stupid like his mother said or fragile like his brother thought.
And in a flash of indignation, he decided that he would not be treated so by someone he didn’t have to take it from.
Summoning his insight magic was clumsy work, but it came easily enough despite Regulus having never attempted it intentionally before. It answered him eagerly, revealing the book title again.
“Infamous Werewolf of—“ Regulus just managed to read before Lupin slammed the book on the desk to shield it with a start.
He looked upset, defensive, and not just a little shocked. “How did you do that!?”
Regulus just shrugged mutinously, averting his eyes and running the scar on his tongue over the roof of his mouth. “You shouldn’t read that,” he repeated without acknowledging him. “It’s a cursed book.”
Lupin still looked unexpectedly rattled, tightening his lips. “Excuse me?”
“When we got into trouble, mother used to read us that book.” Regulus nodded to it. “Right before bed. She said it was cursed to give children nightmares. Sirius wouldn’t sleep in his own room for weeks because she kept telling him a werewolf would sneak through his window and bite him in the night if he didn’t behave. So as I said, you should not read that, it is a cursed book, for the last time!”
He went back to his own work in a huff, pretending to ignore Lupin.
Merlin, he hated repeating himself.
Lupin said nothing for several seconds. Regulus thought that was the end of it for a while until he spoke again haltingly.
“He’s afraid of werewolves?”
Regulus looked up.
Lupin had turned a very pale shade in the wake of this information. He looked overcome by a concoction of emotions, the leading one being the sort of bone-deep dread with which Regulus was familiar.
“Sirius, I mean,” Lupin clarified, as though that wasn’t obvious. He looked as though he feared the answer.
Regulus thought back to the sleepless nights on full moons when their mother had finished her threats and left, and all that was left was for Sirius and Regulus to await dawn. While Regulus had been fearful, Sirius had been nearly beside himself, locking the two of them in his room and orbiting Regulus nervously until the sun rose.
“He was terrified of them,” Regulus answered honestly.
This seemed to break something deep within Lupin because he turned nearly green, as though he might be sick.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes.” Lupin stood suddenly, shoving his books quickly into his bag. If he didn’t know better, he might have thought the Gryffindor close to tears.
Regulus furrowed his brow, confused by the reaction. He didn’t understand why Lupin would care so much about this. He wondered if this was similar to when he had casually described one of their mother’s punishments to Barty on the train ride home for Yule. His best friend had been incredibly upset on his behalf. It was a common enough story in the Black household, but perhaps other families did not starve their children or purposefully terrify them with stories of feral beasts.
“I’ll see you around, Regulus,” Lupin said without looking at him. He finished clicking the clasp of his threadbare bag closed, threw it over his shoulder, and departed before Regulus could say anything further.
Why on earth is he so upset?
The Hufflepuffs were in a very good mood, having defeated Ravenclaw soundly in their quidditch matchup over the weekend. Ravenclaw had been assigned all their games one after another at the start of the academic year, which many considered to be bad luck. It didn’t give the team time to observe their competition while giving ample time for them to be studied by their opponents.
Maybe that was why one of the Hufflepuffs had the audacity to get into it with Madam Hooch right there in the middle of first year flying lessons.
Regulus was listening to Dorcas explain her predictions on next month’s professional quidditch match featuring her favorite team, the Holyhead Harpies, as they hovered lazily near the rest of their classmates. Madam Hooch, a young witch with short caramel hair and sharp brown eyes, was busy correcting the seat of Otto Bagman, who kept stubbornly insisting that he had been flying his way for years.
“It’s a miracle you haven’t slid off yet.”
“This is how my brother taught me!”
“—Which is why I think Catty and Rosehip have such perfect chaser chemistry,” Dorcas was saying. “They’ll crush the Wigtown Wanderers, no problem!”
“I’m sure Barty would love to disagree with you about that,” Regulus grinned, glancing down towards the ground where their friend was trying to convince Evan to pick up his broom. All year long, Evan had flatly refused to do so, accepting each threat by Hooch of earning a bad grade and refusing each increasingly ridiculous bribe by Barty.
Dorcas rolled her eyes as Madam Hooch flew off to make a token effort at getting Evan on his broom and, failing that, probably ordering Barty to get back in the air. “Barty’s an idiot. We’ve got a bet going, you know.”
“She’s completely wrong about my seat,” Bagman was telling his fellow Hufflepuffs a little ways above them. “This is how Ludo always sits on his broom—”
“A bet?” Regulus repeated skeptically. “That sounds like a fight waiting to happen.”
“—because then he can fly with no hands. See?”
“We’re not going to fight,” Dorcas insisted. “It’s all very civilized.”
“I’ve yet to see you two have a conversation about quidditch that’s even remotely civilized–”
A shriek filled the air as a heavy object dropped from the sky not two feet from him, giving Regulus the fright of his life as he pulled back, clutched his broom tightly.
“OTTO!” someone shouted from above them.
Regulus was split between looking up and looking down—until a loud thud coupled with a snap and a soul-chilling scream drew his attention invariably towards the ground.
Otto Bagman lay in a twisted position forty feet below them. He’d landed half on his back and half on his side, snapping his shoulder and arm in so many places that his bones didn’t seem like they had any structure to them.
“Merlin,” Dorcas breathed, flying closer to Regulus as they watched Madam Hooch sprint towards Bagman from where she’d been standing around arguing with Evan. Regulus could hear her calling his name repeatedly while drawing her wand. A silver semi-transparent eagle swooped from her wand tip, taking to the air in the direction of one of the castle windows.
Regulus and Dorcas rushed towards the ground with the rest of their classmates, landing close to Barty and Evan, who had been staring up at them. Barty looked jumpy but Evan was blatantly unnerved, bolting forward the last few steps to meet them.
“Bloody hell, I thought it was one of you two,” he breathed, pale and wide-eyed. He didn’t go in for a hug, but he did seem to want Regulus and Dorcas very close as the sobs of Bagman continued with the arrival of Madam Pomfrey, the school healer.
“Brooms on the ground! Now!” Hooch barked as Pomfrey began speaking very softly to her patient, kneeling in the icy mud that leached into her robes in order to lean over him. The first year Hufflepuff looked even worse up close. They had clearly cast some sort of trance on him because Regulus was certain there was no way a person could stay so still with that many shattered bones.
“We can’t move him, we’ll have to address the spinal injury here,” Pomfrey was saying to Hooch.
“Tell me what to do.”
Regulus had always been afraid of healers, helped along by his mother’s frightening stories about restraints and potions being forced on him. She had never wanted him alone with one, insisting that healers weren’t his friends and that if he ever was alone with one, they wouldn’t allow him to leave or see his family—including his brother—ever again.
Madam Pomfrey didn’t seem like one of those frightening figures from the stories. She was a young woman with blonde hair pinned up in a bun and said soft, reassuring things to Bagman as she worked. Her wand was a stormy gray wood warmed by the faintest touch of mauve and it danced over Bagman in a series of silent diagnostic spells, which turned to healing spells that numbed, straightened, and splinted crushed limbs and vertebrae in time with a reassuring narration of her actions.
“Wicked,” Dorcas proclaimed solemnly at the same time that one of the Ravenclaws also watching the proceedings declared that he was going to be sick.
“My mum says Pomfrey is one of the best healers in the country,” Evan supplied. “No one can figure out why she’s working at a school.”
The show was over pretty quickly after that. Pomfrey stabilized Bagman and together she and Hooch spirited him away to the hospital wing, pursued by the rest of the Hufflepuffs.
Their lesson cut short, the majority of the class crumpled off in the direction of the entrance hall. Regulus and his friends decided to walk the perimeter of the lake, discussing the events that had just unfolded.
“That was amazing healing,” Barty admitted. “I thought he was a goner for sure.”
“He would have been without Pomfrey!”
“I hope she lets him go in the end,” Regulus commented.
His friends turned to him, confused.
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “Oh, you know. Healers take you away if you tell them too much about yourself.”
Barty made a particular expression that reminded Regulus of their conversation on the train leaving for Yule. “Did your mum tell you that?”
“That’s not what healers do!” Dorcas said at the same time, laughing.
Flushing, Regulus felt very awkward under their stares.“It’s just how things are done,” he muttered, resorting to his old standby statement.
“No it isn’t!” Barty said loudly. He sounded agitated, which made Dorcas and Evan both pause and reevaluate the conversation more closely.
“Wait a minute. Where did you get that idea anyway?”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
Barty did it for him. “His mum! She’s insane!”
“Barty!” Dorcas reprimanded, scandalized. “You can’t just say things like that about people’s parents!”
“Well she shouldn’t be allowed to make Reg afraid of healers!”
Evan was watching Regulus’s reaction very carefully.
Chewing her lip, Dorcas turned her focus on him too. “I mean, is he right?”
“I don’t want to talk about this!” Regulus reasserted.
“That’s too fucking bad!”
“Barty!”
“Leave him alone, guys,” Evan finally spoke up, sounding uncharacteristically stern. “He doesn’t want to talk about it, so back off.”
Dorcas looked uncertain, wringing her hands nervously. She had clearly never been in this sort of situation before and had little idea what to do, especially with her social points of reference pulling in opposite directions.
Barty on the other hand looked mutinous. To his credit, however, he shut his mouth as requested and shoved his hands in his pockets.
A truly uncomfortable silence fell—the first one like it in all their months of friendship. Regulus wanted to step away from it; wanted Sirius to appear out of nowhere and start running his mouth on stupid stuff to take the focus off him.
Dorcas finally cleared her throat.
“We should go swimming when it’s warmer,” she suggested, carefully angling a rock she’d picked up before skipping it across the water.
Barty frowned. “That giant squid though.”
“For fuck’s sake, Barty, squids don’t eat people.”
“Yes they do.”
“You’re just saying that to be difficult!”
“I’m not difficult!”
Regulus released a slow breath. He stayed very quiet for the rest of their interaction, though he remained very nervous that someone might bring the topic back up to him at any given moment. He thought of his friends’ reactions to his comments about healers. Dorcas had almost seemed to think he was joking—like the concept of being stolen away by one was absurd. Barty had acted like it wasn’t real at all.
“—right, Reg?”
He tore himself away from his introspection. “Sorry?”
“Do you want to swim in the summer?” Dorcas asked. “Maybe in June, after exams?”
He tried to smile. “Er, isn’t there a giant squid in the lake?”
“Thank you!” Barty exclaimed, drowning out her noise of disgust. “See? It’s not just me trying to survive to see second year here, Meadowes!”
The discussion turned to squabbling quickly, and if his friends were still thinking about the uncomfortable moment that had passed between them, they didn’t let on. Evan remained quietly thoughtful as Barty threatened to throw Dorcas into the lake in the name of demonstrating his point, but he didn’t speak as they ditched the lake and retreated to the castle.
Notes:
Next time:
Sirius admits to lying about where he really was last Yule, which is a difficult conversation for all.
Chapter 13: To Confess a Lie
Summary:
This time:
Sirius admits to lying about where he really was last Yule, which is a difficult conversation for all.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It didn’t take long for Sirius to hear about the incident.
“Thank Merlin you’re okay!” he exclaimed less than an hour later, slowing to a jog, then to a stop right beside Regulus as they encountered each other on the way to the library. Regulus paused accommodatingly while his friends politely continued on. “I heard somebody fell in your flying class and broke every bone in their body!”
It was chilly in the hallway. The Slytherin pulled his winter clothes tighter around himself as he listened to his brother’s outburst, noting with a bit of amusement that Sirius automatically mirrored him. They were wearing the same dark gray woolen cloak today, and if Sirius had been a bit shorter and his hair a bit more curled, they really could be mistaken for twins.
“That’s a little exaggerated. Also, it wasn’t me,” Regulus assured as his brother gave him a thorough onceover.
Sirius looked wired; like he’d recently undergone a high amount of stress and hadn’t settled down yet. His stylish hair was in unstylish disarray, presumably from running all around looking for his brother. Regulus couldn’t imagine how Sirius had found him so fast, considering how big the castle was.
“Mary said it was a first year who kept telling people that his brother had taught him to fly,” Sirius revealed. “That his brother taught him wrong and he wouldn’t admit it.”
“Definitely couldn’t have been me, then. I love telling people when you’re wrong.”
Sirius laughed. It definitely had a relieved edge to it. “Right, right…”
“I’m okay,” Regulus repeated quietly to reassure him. “I promise.”
Sirius pulled it together, nodding tightly. “Good.” He cleared his throat. “I’d best get going, then. I skived off Transfiguration to find you.”
His brother had no talent at hiding things from him. Clearly he was still upset, judging by the clench of the fist shoved in his pocket and the stiffness of his shoulders.
“...May as well skive off the rest of it,” Regulus said with a sigh. There was no way he could just leave Sirius to it. His brother must have been searching the whole castle for him. Regulus wasn’t heartless.
Sirius perked up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Besides, I have somewhere to show you that you’ve never been.”
Making his excuse to his disapproving friends, Regulus led Sirius on their excursion for once. Using a series of passages that his brother had shown him, he felt the temperature steadily drop as they went deeper and deeper into the foundations of the castle. After exiting a secret hallway known to them both, Regulus turned around and dragged Sirius through a door that only opened when you said “please.”
“I’ve never seen this place!” Sirius enthused as they passed through it, beaming around at the dusty wood-framed corridor lined with old pottery pieces.
“That’s because you’ve never said please in your life.”
“That’s completely untrue. I said please when I told your stupid friend Crouch to bugger off last week.”
Regulus groaned, holding the next door open, which spat them out in the dungeons. “Just get out.”
Sirius compiled, hopping down the slight ledge created by the raised threshold. He turned around eagerly when Regulus closed the door behind them, only to find that the door was camouflaged perfectly with the stone of the wall.
“Whoa!”
Regulus tugged him along. “Hurry, Sirius! We only have a short window to do this.”
“Do what?” his brother asked as Regulus stopped in front of a blank stretch of wall.
“See that snake carved near the ceiling there?”
“Yes…?”
“Victory.”
Sirius looked over at him, confused, but that quickly changed to glee as the wall became semi-transparent, allowing passage through into the Slytherin common room.
Regulus entered first, peering around cautiously before motioning his brother to follow. It was empty due to the time of day–everyone was either in lessons or the library–which was the only reason Regulus would even consider letting his brother explore the Slytherin living quarters in the first place. The second year Gryffindor spun around the center of the room to take it all in.
“I’ve never made it in here before! Slytherins hex the shit out of anyone they catch!”
“Well don’t get caught then,” Regulus told him, ushering Sirius towards the boy’s staircase.
They passed by bookshelves of community textbooks and elegant knick-knacks that decorated the walls. Sirius reached out to filch one but Regulus smacked his hand away. The first year boy’s dorm was closest to the bottom of the staircase, so it was quick work to shove his brother inside.
“Wow, look at those windows!” was the first thing Sirius said when Regulus closed the door.
Barty had left them all set to a beautiful view of Cashmere Lake, the southernmost magical providence in which he lived. Regulus explained that briefly to Sirius, who insisted on trying the view-finding feature himself.
“This is bloody cool,” Sirius muttered repeatedly, flicking through view after view of rivers, mountains, and forests. He finally figured out how to search for a particular place by writing it in with his wand.
“‘Witcher’s Grove,’” Regulus read. “That’s where Dorcas lives. You’ve never been there, have you?”
Sirius looked almost defensive. “No, of course not!”
Regulus raised a brow. “Why did you say it like that?”
“Like what?”
“Sirius.”
“Reggie.”
“Just tell me,” Regulus laughed. His brother must have been brought there for one of their mother’s high society teas. Sirius hated those.
Again, his brother had no talent at hiding things from him.
It took longer than he thought it would for Sirius to answer. Sirius chewed his bottom lip for a few seconds before he did, like he was weighing his options of telling the truth versus not speaking at all.
“I went there for Yule,” he admitted reluctantly. “James invited me over and I didn’t want to see our parents. So I told them I was sick and just… left.”
Regulus felt like he’d been slapped.
He... just couldn’t believe it. As childish as it was, it had never even occurred to Regulus that Sirius might want to be apart from him for the holidays. His older brother had never hidden anything from him before either, as far as Regulus knew, which was also an unwelcome development.
“What about me? You didn’t want to see me?”
“Of course I wanted to see you!” Sirius said fiercely. “You’re the only part of that bloody house I care about! I didn't want to make things worse for you!”
“When did you decide you were going to spend Yule with Potter?”
“Maybe a week before I did it.”
“You could have told me!”
“Mother would have gotten it out of you one way or another,” Sirius retorted. “There’s no privacy in that house. You know that. It was better for you not to know.”
“I wanted to see you,” Regulus persisted stubbornly.
Sirius sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I know, kid. I wanted to see you too.”
Sightly mollified, Regulus crossed his arms over his chest and sat down on the lid of his trunk.
Did you have more fun with Potter? Was Potter better at flying? Better at playing games? Better at everything?
“What did you do while you were there?" he demanded. "Was there a Yule Ball?”
Sirius eyed him, clearly trying to decide if Regulus really wanted to know or if this was another way of accusing him of stabbing him in the back. “Sort of. It was more like a party, but it was pretty great.”
Regulus huffed, turning away.
“There was a wishing fire there. I know it doesn’t really work, but… I wished that you had come with me.”
Merlin, there was really no staying mad at his brother, especially when he said things like that. Regulus uncrossed his arms slowly, embarrassed by his petulance.
Of course Sirius wouldn’t have wanted to come home for Yule last year. Their parents were still fired up from his unexpected sorting into Gryffindor. It was hardly something Sirius would have looked forward to, even if Regulus had been there to offset some of it.
Besides, what if things had progressed the same way they had over summer?
Sirius would have refused to go back to Hogwarts if Regulus was still tongueless and voiceless in that house. It had taken a while for Walburga Black to put his tongue back, though Regulus didn’t know if that was due to a medical indication to wait or if she was just that much of an awful person that she’d simply extended his suffering for as long as she could for the sake of it. He wouldn’t have wanted Sirius to miss a second of school on his account.
“Want to see something neat?” Regulus redirected the conversation, standing up.
Sirius watched him take out his wand and write something on one of the windows, though he covered it with his hand so Sirius couldn’t see.
The view of Witcher’s Grove blinked away, replaced with a hazy green view of the Black Lake that surrounded Hogwarts. Right in the center, a giant, bulbous eye peered right into the window.
“Merlin!” Sirius yelped, jumping back.
Regulus laughed very hard at that, leaning over to support himself.
“Is that the Giant Squid?”
“Yeah,” Regulus grinned, still flushed as he straightened up. “Pretty cool, right?”
Without answering, Sirius pressed his face into the glass, gaping at the massive lake creature. It floated lazily away from view, its long tentacles trailing after it. Regulus had nearly screamed when one of the fifth years had convinced him that writing “squid” on the window was just a shortcut to view the Black Lake. It appealed to a very juvenile side of him to replicate that experience with his older brother.
“Wicked,” Sirius breathed, fogging up the glass. He turned to look at Regulus. “Hey. Let’s go swimming with it when it’s warmer.”
“Absolutely not.”
February
Sirius’s birthday fell on a weekday this year, so he did not have Regulus’s undivided attention like he so clearly wanted.
“Did you get the cake?” Sirius demanded, accosting him that morning on his way to breakfast.
Regulus, who had in fact managed to arrange for a small chocolate cake courtesy of the Hogwarts elves, refused to answer. “Mind your own business.”
“Is it chocolate?”
“Don’t ruin the surprise,” Dorcas told him crossly from her position at Regulus’s elbow.
Sirius raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine! You’re no fun.”
“And you’re annoying.”
It didn’t end there.
Potter came bounding up to him a few hours later when the Slytherins were making their way to class.
“Did you get the cake for the surprise?” Potter whispered urgently in his ear, making Regulus turn pink at his proximity.
“Yes.”
“Is it chocolate?”
“Potter, you’re blocking the door!” McGonagall told him sharply from inside the classroom.
“Sorry, Professor!”
Regulus finally had it when Pettigrew sidled up to him on his path to herbology.
“I’m supposed to verify that you got a chocolate cake for the party,” Pettigrew said apologetically.
“Why does everyone think I’m incompetent?” Regulus demanded, halting. His friends didn’t even notice, continuing onward without him. “I’ve known Sirius longer than any of you people. I know what kind of bloody cake to get him!”
Pettigrew shrugged, accepting that. “We’ll throw the party in that secret room behind the portrait of Healer Grinhilda. It’s near Gryffindor tower. Do you know where that is?”
“I think so,” Regulus said, playing back his and Sirius’s latest excursion. His brother had taken to kidnapping him at random times, citing the uncharitable need to purge Regulus of Slytherin sliminess at regular intervals so he didn’t start acting like one. Somewhere in there had been a visit to a portrait of a hunchbacked woman carrying a lantern in one hand and a satchel of Dragon Pox vaccines in the other.
“Great. We need you to distract Sirius while we set up, then lure him there.”
“He knows exactly what you guys are up to,” Regulus pointed out, raising his eyebrows. “You know he might just refuse to be dragged off, right?”
Pettigrew laughed. “Yeah, if it was anyone else. But he’ll follow his little brother anywhere.”
Regulus shook off his friends just after dinner, claiming he had to go see his brother about something. There was no need to get into details, considering Evan and Barty had their heads bent together, discussing the odds of stealing the history notes of the Ravenclaw sitting directly behind them with her bag wide open without her noticing.
“Sure, Reg,” Dorcas said casually. “See you later?”
She looked especially nice tonight with her hair freshly touched up and even a bit of makeup, which Regulus had never seen her wear before.
Wondering vaguely what that was about, Regulus agreed and stood up. His brother was sitting in the second year section of the Gryffindor table, laughing it up with Potter and Pettigrew while Lupin grinned at them. He rolled his eyes in disgust as something Potter said made Sirius laugh harder still, making him choke on a bit of chicken.
“Reggie!” he cheered between coughs, lighting up at the sight of his brother.
Regulus waited patiently as his fit slowly subsided. “Hi. Are you free at all?”
“Now why would you want to know that?” Sirius asked with a Cheshire grin. He clearly knew that Regulus was there to distract him, which immediately made him want to be difficult.
“…I can still leave, you know.”
Sirius pouted. “Don’t do that.”
“Let’s go exploring.”
The Gryffindor looked delighted, jumping to his feet. “Yes! I’m in!”
Potter gave him a very unsubtle look behind Sirius’s back, holding up a finger and mouthing one hour. “Bye, mate!” he said loudly as the birthday boy scrambled away from the bench.
As Regulus expected, there was no need to plan anything in particular. Sirius quickly decided where they would go, frog-marching his younger brother out of the great hall and up a series of staircases, maintaining a steady chatter throughout.
“--and I’ve signed up for Care of Magical Creatures, too. Why do you think Remus won’t take it with us? Oh! And the Holyhead Harpies are playing the Wigtown Wanderers next month and I definitely want to listen to it on the radio…”
They ended up in front of a great sheet of mirror, which Sirius stopped in front of.
Regulus evaluated their reflections silently.
They looked similar in so many ways, but things were already very different between them. Sirius was clearly hitting his growth spurt, already a full inch and a half taller than when they’d arrived at school in September. He was starting to fill out as much as a thirteen year old could from whatever beater training he’d started on. He looked happy, which was the biggest change of all, considering the shadow that the Black family cast over them both.
Regulus, on the other hand, was still quite slender—though nothing so unhealthy as last summer when we couldn’t physically eat anything. His dove-gray eyes were large and doe-like, almost too large for his face. It gave him a deceptively sweet appearance that didn’t match his personality at all. The infamous Black cheekbones were starting to come in, giving his facial structure an elegant air. Like his brother, he looked happier than he had the previous February. He had friends here, he was doing well in school, and he still had his brother’s adoration. He hadn’t been sure any of those things would be possible a few months ago.
“You’re coming along, kid,” Sirius grinned at him in the mirror, slinging his arm around his shoulders. “You’ll have all your classmates after you soon, no problem!”
That feeling that Regulus had when Barty was inches from his face or Potter smiled at him came to mind with a flutter. He thought to ask Sirius about it, but he wasn’t sure how to say it.
“What is this?” he asked instead, examining the mirror.
“The entrance to the Ravenclaw common room,” Sirius revealed smugly. “You have to answer a riddle and it lets you through.”
Intrigued, Regulus leaned closer.
“What can you put in a bucket to make it weigh less?” a disembodied voice asked from nowhere in particular.
Regulus tilted his head in thought.
Sirius’s reflection chewed on his bottom lip, mouthing the riddle. “A bucket to weigh less…”
“So if they don’t get it right, do the Ravenclaws just have to wait out here until someone answers correctly?”
“Shhh, you’re breaking my focus.”
Regulus scoffed, then paused. “...You put a hole in it.”
“That’s right,” the distant voice agreed. The mirror rippled like a pool of water with a stone tossed into its center.
“Nice, Reggie! I knew you’d have been a great Ravenclaw!”
Regulus ducked his head, pleased.
“Let's do another!”
Regulus agreed.
The voice returned as the mirror stopped rippling. “What begins with T, ends with T, and contains T?”
The brothers discuss this at length, pausing occasionally to quip one another about their friends, grades, or hair. A warm glow of peace and closeness settled in Regulus’s chest at Sirius laughingly retold their daring escape from Bellatrix via the kitchens.
“That was amazing! Absolutely mad!”
“You’re the mad one. I can’t believe you threw fireworks at her!”
“I can’t believe you gave me your wand!”
They hadn’t discussed it in so many words, but it was incredibly rare for a wixen to get such good results from using another person’s wand if its owner wasn’t dead. Regulus thought back to the book about wands and how it warned against such an action.
“I’m not looking forward to Bella’s wedding,” Regulus changed the subject.
Sirius hummed, leaning back against the wall. “Bet Rodolphus tries to run.”
“I’d try to run if I were him.”
“Why don’t we do something at the wedding to liven things up a little?”
Regulus gave him a deadpanned look. “Because she’d kill us. Bella would kill us.”
“What if we came up with something subtle?” Sirius persisted. “A game that only you and I knew we were playing, so we wouldn’t get caught?”
Regulus hesitated. Bellatrix was not known for her good humor. In fact, she was known for her temper and Sirius was effectively proposing that they risk life and limb for a bit of type three fun.
The mirror surface suddenly shimmered, even though they hadn’t guessed the riddle yet. A Ravenclaw fifth year with a prefect badge pinned to her robes stuck her head out of its surface, looking them both over suspiciously.
“What are you two up to?” she demanded crossly. “Neither of you are in Ravenclaw. Five points from Gryffindor and Slytherin each! What are your names?”
“Run!” Sirius shouted immediately, giving Regulus a shove in the direction he wanted to go. And then they were both sprinting away, laughing hysterically together as the prefect yelled threats after them until they vanished from view around the corner.
They didn’t stop running.
They sailed down the corridors, dodging startled students and disapproving teachers. Their progress was halted when Sirius bolted dead on into his house ghost, Nearly-Headless Nick, which made his older brother yelp at the sensation, breaking stride abruptly, and making Regulus laugh harder still.
“Bugger off, Reggie,” Sirius pouted through chattering teeth as Regulus doubled over, his body shaking with glee. “Quit laughing at me!”
“I’m not!”
“Yes you are!” He tackled Regulus to the ground and, to his horror, began to tickle him.
“Get off!”
“Say I’m the best big brother ever!” Sirius demanded, grinning. He did not relent his attack in the slightest.
“You’re the worst big brother!”
The classroom door next to them slammed open, revealing a frowning Professor Flitwik on the threshold. Behind him, a room full of seventh year NEWT students from every house glowered out at them, clearly in the middle of a charms revision.
Sirius and Regulus scrambled to their feet, flushing.
“Misters Black! We are in the middle of a NEWT mock exam!” Flitwik informed them, scandalized.
Among the examinees was Bellatrix, who leveled a particularly murderous look at them for interrupting.
Regulus gulped as Sirius quickly began ushering him away. “Sorry, Professor Flitwik!” his brother called over his shoulder. “You know how boisterous little brothers can be!”
“Me!?”
“Yes, you. Now come along, young Regulus,” Sirius continued sagely under Flitwick's judging gaze. “I was just getting to the part about not skipping class and respecting your elders.”
“Right,” Regulus agreed unenthusiastically.
Flitwik tutted at them and closed the door once more. As soon as he did, Regulus stood on his toes and swatted at Sirius’s hair.
“Hey!”
“You threw me under the Knight Bus!”
“Only a little,” Sirius conceded. “And don’t we have somewhere to be? To get a surprise of some sort, perhaps?”
Of course Sirius knew all about his party. His brother was the biggest busybody he’d ever met besides their mother.
Regulus pretended to look confused. “Surprise? No. Why would that be? It’s not like today is special or anything.”
“Really?” Sirius drawled, a glint in his eye. “You don’t think so?”
He pretended to yawn. “Well, I’m going back to the dungeons. I’m tired.”
“Tired!?”
“Yes,” Regulus confirmed, beginning to walk away. “It’s hard work being boisterous.”
“Wow.”
Regulus protested halfheartedly as Sirius began to frogmatch him back in the direction of the seventh floor.
“So! Where’s my birthday party, Reggie? I feel like the lads have had long enough to set up. The quidditch pitch? The common room? It’s the common room, isn’t it?”
Regulus stubbornly stuck to his story as Sirius propelled them halfway through the castle.
“There's no party,” he was still insisting when Sirius trotted them right up to the portrait guarding Gryffindor Tower. “In fact, I’m not even sure it’s really your birthday.”
“He’s a Slytherin,” the Fat Lady objected with a frown.
“Magenta,” Sirius ignored her.
“There’s nothing in there, Sirius.”
“Nonsense! My friends threw me a party last year,” his brother insisted, almost manically, dragging him inside.
The Gryffindor common room was cozy and cheery with a roaring fire and done up in warm colors. Stacks of community textbooks and board games were scattered across bookshelves and small tables. The students were speaking loudly, often talking over one another, and it was so completely Sirius that Regulus could understand why his brother couldn’t understand why he chose Slytherin for himself.
“This is nice,” Regulus admitted, pretending as though it pained him to say so. “Chaotic, like you.”
His brother didn’t answer.
That was strange, since Sirius had a comeback for everything. Regulus looked around at him and felt his playful mood fade. Sirius looked so stricken by the apparent lack of interest from his friends that he seemed to curl in on himself.
He looked unnervingly small.
Insecure.
That was when Regulus knew this game had gone too far.
“C’mon,” he sighed, tugging his brother towards the exit with a handful of his robes. “Party’s this way.”
Notes:
Next time:
James admits under the solemn oath of a truth-or-dare game that he thinks someone is pretty. Meanwhile, though they hadn't meant to, the Slytherin boys realize they've hurt Dorcas's feelings.
--
“What begins with T, ends with T, and contains T?”
A teapot!
- villain
Let's hang out! Tumblr: villain-crown
Chapter 14: Crush
Summary:
This time:
James admits under the solemn oath of a truth-or-dare game that he thinks someone is pretty. Meanwhile, though they hadn't meant to, the Slytherin boys realize they've hurt Dorcas's feelings.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Regulus!”
Ignored.
“Reg!”
Nothing.
“Oi, Reggie!”
“Don’t call me that, Potter!”
James grinned, quickly ruffling his hair to try to make it look a bit more like Hunter Gray, the Tutshill Tornados beater on last month’s edition of Quidditch Quarterly. “Oh, so you can hear me.”
They had encountered each other near the Defense classroom, in a chilly stone corridor lined with frost-laced windows and faintly glowing wall sconces. January was coming to a close and James was dying for warmer weather. Regulus looked very adorable swallowed up by his thick woolen cloak, his head of neat black curls appearing soft and shiny in the diffused winter sunlight. Even Regulus’s silver glare had a charming quality to it as the younger boy clutched the strap of his book bag.
Honestly, James preferred the glares.
At least then he had Regulus’s attention.
He was a good four inches shorter than James, so it was extra entertaining as Regulus attempted to look down his nose at him. “Potter, you’re making me late for Charms!”
“Charms is on the other side of the castle, mate. You were going to be late with or without me.”
It was a good thing that Regulus was just a first year, because if he had any more experience with hexes under his belt, James thought he would have had an up-close demonstration of them. Instead of going for his wand, however, the Slytherin just huffed, turned on his heel, and continued on in the direction of his next class.
James followed him.
“So! I’ve come to ask your help with something.”
“No.”
“It’s about Sirius,” James hinted.
He felt that old nervous excitement when Regulus automatically looked at him.
James had worked very hard to find an excuse—any excuse—to get the younger boy to talk to him since their last meaningful encounter after playing snow forts. By now, he’d attempted to strike up a conversation in the library, thrown a paper ball at the back of his head in study hall, and even tried knitting with his mother, sending the misshapen result to Regulus as a Yule gift. The lack of progress was frustrating, especially when James was all the while convinced that they could be close if Regulus just gave him a bloody chance.
“What's wrong with Sirius?”
“Nothing. It’s his birthday soon—“
“I know it’s his birthday soon!”
“—and we’re throwing him a surprise party,” James continued, unbothered. “But we still need a cake. Can you get one?”
He could tell Regulus was aiming for a scowl, but it came out as a pout. “Piss off, Potter. I’m not your errand boy.”
James tilted his head, amused. “No, but you’re a bit of a brat, aren’t you?”
It had taken a bit for James to realize this, but once he had, he found that he actually liked Regulus’s prickly nature even better than Sirius’s delusional insistence that his little brother could do no wrong. Once James had gotten past the initial shock of the discrepancy, he found it endlessly entertaining to find ways to needle Regulus into breaking his fussy pureblood composure to hiss at him like a cat.
Sure enough, the Slytherin boy bristled. “No, you’re just completely intolerable! And aren’t you perfectly capable of walking down to the kitchens and getting it yourself? What are you, banned?”
“Yes,” he admitted freely. “For three weeks, since we slipped Snape that hair color-changing potion.”
Regulus both snorted and pressed a hand to his mouth to keep himself from doing so, making James’s heart give an odd little jump.
That had never happened before, and it made the Gryffindor scrunch his nose, surprised.
Merlin, what’s the matter with me?
When Regulus lowered his palm once more, it was with an appraising look. “Fine. But I’m doing this for Sirius. Not you, Potter.”
James was quite familiar with throwing parties.
His mother, Euphemia Potter, was one of the most social people he’d ever met and had roped James into both hosting and attending more high society tea parties than he could count. James didn’t like the posh dress-up and formal table etiquette of it all, but it had taught him the value of good food, good music, and maintaining the energy of a room.
So when it came time to arrange a birthday party for his very best mate, James was in full form. The wrapping paper of the gift he’d bought Sirius was aggressively Gryffindor, as were all of the students he’d invited. The food, decorations, time, and date were all set.
So was the bait.
James grinned as Regulus Black showed up at the Gryffindor table the morning of the party, a small and grouchy-looking distraction for Sirius to get up and follow out of the great hall. This left the three remaining second-year boys with enough time to finish pinning up the stolen Gryffindor banner they’d used for their snow fort to the walls of a secret room behind the portrait of old Grinhilda.
“Why do you always try to rile him up?”
James stopped talking at Remus’s interruption. He’d been filling the silence as they made the finishing touches by explaining in gleeful detail how dramatically put-upon Regulus had acted when he’d delivered the birthday cake earlier.
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Regulus. You’re always going out of your way to annoy him. Why do you do that?”
James… hadn’t noticed.
“I don’t,” he tried to defend himself.
“You do,” Peter confirmed unexpectedly from the other side of the room. “It’s like you can’t stand it if he’s not upset with you.”
Well, that was completely unfair!
Surely not, James thought, thinking quickly back to his most recent encounter with Regulus. He’d found the boy reaching ineffectively for a library book just out of reach, standing on his toes and looking just so irritated that James couldn’t help but grin as he reached up over the Slytherin’s head to pluck it from the shelf. Regulus had been so huffy about the whole thing that James felt completely faultless in teasing him for being so small.
It was the first time Regulus had ever cursed at him in French.
“I don’t go out of my way,” James lied.
Remus opened his mouth to continue the argument, but then the Gryffindor girls suddenly showed up, with Mary asking where to put the gifts and Lily laughing at some story Marlene was wrapping up as they crossed the entrance’s threshold.
James was thankful for the distraction.
Later on, Sirius startled a bit when the lot of them jumped out from their hiding places upon his entrance, their loud rendition of For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow! off-key and quite obnoxious. He looked more relieved than surprised after taking in the state of the room and for once even the excited feeling that accompanied the sight of Regulus paled in comparison to the excitement of dragging his best friend further into the party.
“We scared you!” James insisted as he wrestled with Sirius on the fireside rug, a record player beginning to belt lines of Queen in the background at a low volume.
“The only thing that scares me is that ugly mug of yours, Potter!” Sirius retorted, struggling to unpin himself from James’s hold.
The group cycled through a few rounds of Exploding Snap while Peter and Regulus talked quietly by the record player. James tried not to look over at Sirius’s younger brother since he felt like Remus was watching him, but he did wonder what they were talking about for so long. A few times, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing over there anyway, chancing it once more as the game at hand transitioned from cards to Truth or Dare. Someone had tossed a cheap Sneakoscope into the center of the circle, though he couldn't remember who.
It was only when the empty butterbeer bottle was spun by Sirius and landed on James that he felt his full attention abruptly pull to the situation at hand.
“Well, well, well,” Sirius mocked, raising a brow. It was singed from where he’d leaned too close to the Exploding Snap deck earlier and James had accidentally blown it up. Clearly, Sirius held a grudge. “Truth or dare, mate?”
The glint in his dark gray eyes made James hesitate.
“Dare.”
“No, pick truth.”
“That’s for cowards!” James argued.
“I don’t have a good dare,” Sirius claimed, “but I have a good truth. Are you too scared to tell?”
That accusation didn’t sit well with the twelve-year-old. “Fine! Truth!”
“Do you fancy anyone?”
James froze.
For a bunch of preteens, this was by far the most compelling question ever posed. Mary cackled loudly, leaning closer to hear his answer.
“Fancy?” he repeated, trying not to panic.
His gaze flickered irrepressibly towards Regulus for no good reason.
“Fancy. Anyone you want to kiss? Anyone you find pretty? Remember, you can’t lie,” Sirius said quickly, repositioning the Sneakoscope rather fussily on its point.
“No!”
The Sneakoscope let out the most annoying whistle, the edges lighting up all at once. James turned beet red as his friends laughed uproariously, using the distraction to think furiously about what he was supposed to say.
“James Potter, you bloody liar!”
Out of habit, he glanced over at Regulus. Usually any attention was good attention when it came to the younger boy, but James felt his cheeks darken further when it became clear that Regulus was staring too.
He absolutely didn’t fancy him; James was adamant about that. But the thing was… the thing was, Regulus was pretty with his cute curls and big silver eyes. James wasn’t sure if he was ready to kiss anyone—he was only twelve, for Merlin’s sake!—but he’d seen some of the older boys and girls doing that sort of thing in the common room and in the corridors and…
Well…
It made him wonder.
Wonder what it would be like, when he was older.
“James!”
He snapped out of his thoughts as Mary very pointedly called his name. Everyone was staring at him by now, including a grinning Sirius, who he somehow didn’t think would appreciate any of this information.
He swallowed nervously, staring down at the lie detector. “Well, maybe.”
“Who!?” Marlene was quick to follow up.
James immediately protested, his head jerking up. “It’s not a multi-part question!”
“He’s right. He just has to say yes or no. That’s the rule.”
The looks on Sirius and Remus’s faces promised that he would definitely not be hearing the end of that anytime soon. Sure enough, each time it came back around to James, he studiously chose dare despite his friends’ increasingly insane whims.
“I’m not jumping in the Black Lake starkers!”
“You can always choose truth instead,” Remus offered pleasantly.
Anyone who thought the sandy-haired boy mild and unassuming was an idiot. Remus had a glint in his eye that assured James that he was one of the most conniving bastards around.
“No!”
“Then I don’t know what to tell you, James. The lake is waiting for you.”
After James resigned in protest, the rest of the group quickly lost interest too. They cycled through a few more games but it was still a school night and they were all still kids, so the room cleared out at a respectable hour after everyone partook in the triple chocolate cake Regulus had obtained from the kitchens.
The others had already gone by the time the four Gryffindor boys were ready to call it a night. Well, everyone but Regulus, who had hidden yawns behind his hand and had stubbornly insisted he was fine every time his brother had hovered around him asking if he needed to go to bed. James had studiously avoided looking in his direction for the rest of the night, unsettled by his new perspective. He finally found out why Regulus insisted on staying so late when the Slytherin handed over his gift, wrapped in generic brown paper.
“Well don’t go out of your way or anything, Reggie,” Sirius rolled his eyes.
“I don’t know what you were expecting. Gryffindor-themed paper?”
“Couldn’t hurt,” Sirius quipped, unwrapping his present in a whirlwind of paper and making a noise of intrigue when two twin mirrors inside nearly tumbled to the ground.
Regulus lunged forward to catch them. “Careful!”
“Sorry!” Sirius accepted one back, holding it up to the light. “Cool! New mirrors!” he ran a hand artfully through his hair, posing in the small rectangular frame of it. James snorted at his vanity. “Thanks, Reggie! But why are there two?”
“So you can do this,” Regulus said into the compact that his brother wasn’t holding.
James just about jumped out of his skin as Sirius’s reflection was replaced with Regulus’s. Sirius’s eyes went wide in delight as he ogled the mirror with newfound respect.
“How in Merlin's name!?” James gasped, craning his neck to shove his face in front of Sirius’s. In the little mirror in Sirius’s hand, he could see the miniature reflection of Regulus: a closer view than he’d ever had before of the palest freckles dusting his nose and a faint pearlescent ring separating his irises from their pupils.
“That’s so cool, Reggie!” Sirius said enthusiastically, jumping to his feet. “How far apart can they be? This’ll be handy for detentions, won’t it, James?”
“Definitely!”
McGonagall had started separating them into different rooms for detention, which had been highly effective at making them as dull and miserable as possible. These mirrors would be perfect for communicating in secret!
For some reason, Regulus looked a bit put out when Sirius handed one mirror to James while keeping the other for himself. “I’m going back to my dorm,” he announced sourly.
“Want me to walk you?”
“No, it’s okay. It’s getting late.”
“Okay, well—“ Sirius glanced unhappily over to where his friends were watching them. James and the others took the hint, quickly beginning to whistle to themselves, packing up the various games and decorations they’d brought. They paused the whistling occasionally to exclaim very loudly on how absolutely splendid the party had been, old bean, truly you outdid yourself this time.
James was too nosy to move far away, staying near enough to eavesdrop on the conversation between the brothers.
Huddling closer, Sirius ruffled Regulus’s hair in a way James thought the younger boy only pretended not to like. “Thank you, kid. It wouldn’t have been a party without you. You’re the best.”
Puffing up in pride, Regulus answered modestly. James hid a grin by squatting to pick up a few stray cards that had escaped the pile.
Regulus really was a good brother.
“No, really,” Sirius said firmly, holding his shoulders. “I’ve been missing you. Let’s do something together sometime, yeah?”
From the corner of his eye, James saw him smile softly.
James hoped that, maybe one day, Regulus might smile at him like that.
Everyone knew that Allan Snowfeather was only alive but for the grace of Merlin and his lucky catch at the February Slytherin v Hufflepuff match over the weekend.
It was the sort of matchup that made for ideal viewing: the Hufflepuff commentator, Frederick Finnigan, had caught his Slytherin quidditch captain boyfriend cheating on him with his equally Hufflepuff sister, Flora Finnigan. He had chosen to reveal this information five minutes into the match, shocking everyone. The drama of it all had been insane. By the end of it, Regulus hadn’t cared one whit about the match, but had become deeply invested in the commentator’s petty remarks regarding Harry Hearthstone’s poor aim, broom seating, and taste in women.
“I can’t believe you missed the match!” Regulus told Dorcas as soon as he saw her exiting her dorm room. It was very unlike Dorcas to skip a game, even with her claim of needing to nap, so he’d made a point to wait for her to turn up in the common room, occupying himself with a book on the process of inventing potions. Barty had gone to round up Evan from his usual avoidance of quidditch conversations and it was agreed that they’d all meet in the great hall.
“You would have loved it. The commentator actually called his boyfriend—well, hopefully ex now—a lying, cheating toad! I thought McGonagall was going to reverse his sonorous spell for sure! And…”
To Regulus’s utmost shock, Dorcas breezed past him without responding. He watched her exit the common room without pausing, fighting the urge to gape after her.
What in Merlin’s name is that about?
When Dorcas was nowhere to be found during dinner, he decided to ask.
“Does anyone know what’s wrong with Dorcas?” Regulus asked.
Barty, who clearly hadn’t realized anything was wrong with Dorcas, looked up from his potatoes with a frown.
“What are you talking about?” Evan harmonized.
“She’s mad about something. What did you two do?”
“Nothing!”
“I don’t believe you.”
They both seemed to think very hard about their latest interactions with Dorcas.
She had seemed excited ever since arriving back at Hogwarts, which had heightened in increments as the days went on. At first, Regulus thought she was just happy to be back with her friends, but overnight she seemed intermittently moody and had stopped visiting the boys’ dorms entirely, which was unlike her.
Her ignoring Regulus entirely had been the final straw.
“I stole her favorite quill,” Evan finally admitted. “But I was going to give it back. Do you think she’s angry about that?”
Regulus shook his head. “I think it’s a bit more than that.”
“I told her the Holyhead Harpies would never make it to the World Cup.” Barty frowned. “But everyone knows that, so I don’t think it counts.”
Regulus sighed, frustrated. “If this is about quidditch again we’re going to have to institute a ban against you two discussing it.”
“It’s not my fault! Tell her to pick better teams!”
“I think you have to apologize,” Evan voted.
“Seconded.”
“There you go. Motion passed.”
“I didn’t mean it, for Merlin’s sake!”
“Oh, we all know that’s not true,” Evan said, looking him up and down.
After a few further minutes of bickering, Barty reluctantly agreed to apologize for insulting Dorcas’s favorite quidditch team. Convinced of their own insight, Regulus, Barty, and Evan lay in wait in the common room, impatient for Dorcas to return from wherever she went when she was avoiding them.
“Fancy seeing you hear!” Barty announced loudly when the dark-skinned girl crept through the entrance.
Dorcas looked up with an annoyingly impassive expression. “Oh. Hi.”
Regulus clicked his tongue at her, herding Dorcas towards the boys’ dorm stairs.
“What!?” Dorcas snapped, crossing her arms defensively over her chest as the four of them were shoved into the familiar room in various states of agreeability.
“I’m sorry for insulting the Harpies,” Barty apologized aggressively. “I didn’t realize you really minded.”
Dorcas scoffed, glancing at the door. “I don’t care about your quidditch opinions. You have no sense or taste.”
The three boys frowned.
“Are you sure?” Regulus asked, suspicious.
“You missed the quidditch match today. We were pretty sure you were upset.”
A flicker of a shadow passed over her expression. It cleared, but not fast enough to facilitate Dorcas’s attempt to turn abruptly and leave.
“Out with it!” Barty demanded, blocking the exit.
“Yeah,” Regulus added, “or we’ll glue the door shut.”
“Then you’ll be trapped here too!”
“You overestimate our self-preservation.”
Dorcas rolled her eyes. “Look. Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine. Can I just go to bed?”
“Nifflershit,” Evan decided. “Honestly. Please.”
She continued not to answer right away, hemming and hawing for a good while until she seemed to realize that the boys were not going to let this go anytime soon. Dorcas seemed to come to terms with this over the course of several seconds, during which she chewed on her lower lip and flicked her gaze from one determined Slytherin first year to the next.
“I thought you were throwing me a surprise birthday party,” she admitted reluctantly.
“Birthday!?” all three boys chorused, alarmed.
“That’s not fair!” Barty protested. “We don’t even know when your birthday is!”
But Regulus thought he had an idea. “It was last week, wasn’t it? February 1st?”
Barty and Evan rounded on him.
“How the hell did you know that!?”
“You thought that’s what we were talking about on the train, right?” Regulus asked Dorcas, who stared at her shoes, red-faced. “When I was talking about Sirius’s birthday present.”
“Yes.” And to Regulus’s horror, she sniffed. “I’ve never had a surprise party and… But then you… didn’t… and I didn’t know… I thought–”
“That we didn’t care about you?”
She nodded, swiping at her eyes. “The girls in my dorm are so close. They know everything about each other, including each other’s birthdays. Flint got all these presents and a cake from the other girls on her birthday in November and you three all share a dorm so you see each other more than you see me, so of course you’re closer. I just felt so stupid and lonely and weird–”
“You’re my best friend,” Regulus interrupted her.
Dorcas stopped speaking abruptly.
“And if we could move you into the boys’ dorms with us, we bloody well would,” Regulus continued. “Do you know how often we’re just sitting around talking about you while we’re up here? It’s ‘What do you think Dorcas would think of this?’ this and ‘I bet Dorcas would know’ that. Half the time it’s just one big Dorcas Meadowes Fanclub meeting.”
“You’re my best friend, too,” Barty pointed out, staring at Dorcas intently. “No one talks about quidditch with me like you do. Plus, who practices hitting bludgers with me every weekend? And forces our friends to build snow forts? Not these two humorless gargoyles, I’ll tell you that much.”
Dorcas laughed wetly.
“And you’re also my best friend,” Evan put in earnestly, refusing to be outdone. “I like that we’re partners for all our classes. You’re fantastically good at magic, Dorcas, and you’re really funny.”
She didn’t answer at first, still trying to pull herself together. Eventually she nodded, looking up at her friends with red eyes. “I like that too. Thank you. All of you,” she emphasized, turning her sincere gaze on Regulus and Barty.
It was a little bit more than someone raised in the emotionally stunted Black household could grapple with, so Regulus cleared his throat awkwardly and nodded.
“Erm, want to play some Exploding Snap before bed?”
Dorcas agreed quickly, settling on the thick rug cross-legged, tucking her skirt carefully over her knees. Clearly relieved, Evan retrieved his cards from his trunk while Barty scrounged up a few chocolate frogs from his.
“New rule: first move goes to the person with the most recent dramatic breakdown,” Barty announced, shuffling the deck. “That’s you today, Meadowes, for making us think you hated our guts–-ow!” he added when Regulus and Evan simultaneously chucked candy at his head.
“Too soon,” Evan chastised him.
“Way too soon! Merlin, Barty!”
“It’s alright,” Dorcas insisted, flushing. She accepted her stack of cards with grace. “I should have said something to you guys. I will in the future, I promise.”
“Good.” Barty nodded. “Now don’t try to bloody cheat again. If you touch a card when it’s not your turn–”
“For Merlin’s sake! That’s not the rule! If you move a card when it’s not your turn–”
And all was well.
Notes:
Next time:
Regulus feels the consequences of Sirius's rivalry with Snape.
Chapter 15: Power Play
Summary:
This time:
Regulus feels the consequences of Sirius's rivalry with Snape.
Chapter warning tag: bullying.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
March
The thing about being Sirius’s brother was that, while Sirius’ friends were Regulus’s acquaintances, his enemies were Regulus’s headaches.
“Black.”
Severus Snape was Sirius’s Nemesis with a capital N and their relationship could at best be described as adversarial. Regulus didn’t think it would be an exaggeration to say they hated each other, which was really inconvenient because, while Sirius might only encounter Snape occasionally in classes and corridors, Regulus was in the same house as the boy.
“Snape,” he acknowledged warily, putting his book down on his lap.
The second year Slytherin had found him reading in the common room. It was one of those rare moments to himself where all his friends had buggered off and he finally had some peace and quiet. Dorcas and Barty were upstairs napping while Evan was attending his first Gobstones Club meeting.
“The Tales of Beedle the Bard?” Snape loudly read off the book title that Regulus had forgotten to hide, sneering. “You still read fairy tales, Black? Could you be any more pathetic?”
Regulus couldn’t help the flush that filled his cheeks, gripping the paperback harder as a few students around them snickered. It was the fairytale book that Sirius had given him last year when he had been trying to protect him from the knowledge that wishing fires weren’t real. Regulus liked to re-read it when he was in the process of grieving how close he and his brother used to be but now no longer were.
The mirrors he’d gifted Sirius for his birthday in February were supposed to be for the two of them; a way for the brothers to stay in touch despite being in separate houses. Watching Sirius give it away to Potter like it was nothing had been… there weren’t words for it.
Did he not matter to Sirius?
Did James Potter matter more?
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Regulus drawled, carefully compartmentalizing those emotions and heaping disdain upon the words as he spoke them.
More students began to take an interest in their confrontation. If there was one thing Slytherins enjoyed, it was a good power play. The attention put Regulus immediately on edge.
“Did your brother give that to you?”
This was clearly going somewhere, but Regulus wasn’t sure where.
“Yes…” he said slowly.
“I just think it’s interesting how fast they sorted out a betrothal for you both. They must have some real concerns about your brother if they still think Black needs to court you to convince you to marry him.”
The implication made a flash of powerless humiliation strike across his cheeks.
“We’re not betrothed!” Regulus said hotly, feeling a sick churning in his stomach at the thought.
It was well-known that there was a lot of inbreeding within the pureblood community, but even so, Regulus knew that there had been whispers when his mother and father had been wed, second cousins as they were. Many had considered the match too close in relation; distasteful, though it wasn’t something anyone hoping to remain in the high society social circuit would say out loud.
“But you have slept together, right?”
Regulus thought back to the times when Sirius had crawled into his bed to comfort him when he was still tongueless and terrified. How did Snape know that? Why was he bringing it up?
“So?” he goaded. “Is it true?”
“Sometimes,” Regulus replied boldly, not entirely understanding. His brother had come to him to offer protection and something warm to sob into. Sirius had been so brave to do it; he would have been punished if he’d been caught. Snape had no right to speak of it. “And it’s none of your business!”
An outbreak of cackles and catcalls made Regulus feel decidedly wrong-footed, like he’d missed some kind of social cue that no one else had. He felt a flush of humiliation color his cheeks without really understanding why.
The thing was, Slytherin worked a lot like the country clubs his parents belonged to. Its constituents were constantly jostling for space in the social hierarchy and there were many factors that determined where one’s ranking roosted.
The biggest advantage Regulus possessed was his last name. The Blacks were wealthy, influential, and threw the most extravagant parties on the social circuit. Getting along with the Blacks could only ever aid a social climber
The disadvantage, however, was that Regulus wasn’t the heir to his family’s name—he was the spare. It was Aunt Lucretia’s favorite joke that Regulus could disappear and his parents wouldn’t notice for at least a few days, with how quiet and unassuming he was. So while getting along with the Blacks might be a boon, it really only mattered if you got along with the right Black. Sirius had gotten away with a truly spectacular amount of nonsense just by virtue of being the heir.
His fellow students seemed to still be deciding if they should be intimidated by Regulus or not.
This was a critical moment.
The rest of his Slytherin career was riding in his response.
“I wonder if that makes Mummy and Daddy Black proud. Aren’t they practically siblings themselves?”
“Nobody asked you, you filthy halfblood.”
The word just came spilling out.
He’d heard it said with that level of mocking vitriol so often at home that he didn’t even hesitate. Sirius wouldn’t have liked it; Regulus knew that now. His brother would be furious to hear him say that word in that tone, but Regulus felt as though he had no choice. He didn’t know how to mount a sophisticated argument against the cruelty of a schoolyard bully, but he couldn’t afford to let himself look like a doormat. All he knew was how to fall back against the vocabulary and contempt of his mother, which he had heard his whole life.
Besides, it was Snape.
He didn’t count.
It was probably okay.
Meanwhile, the tides had turned. The other Slytherins were oooh-ing at Snape, jeering the term. It wasn’t clever or witty, but it was a reminder that Regulus was a Black and Snape was nothing, and his peers would do well to remember it.
Filthy halfblood echoed from every corner of the room.
Their house wasn’t totally made up of purebloods, of course, so Regulus watched as a few upper-year students gritted their teeth against the term and the inflection put to it. It didn’t bring Regulus any satisfaction to see it, but then, they hadn’t spoken up when Snape was humiliating him in front of their entire house, had they?
They deserved it.
The wands were out now; both of them.
Regulus jumped to his feet to avoid a Knockback Jinx, his book falling to the ground, pages bending. His cypress wand was in hand, and while he hadn’t learned many dueling spells through the Hogwarts curriculum, Sirius had made sure he had a few up his sleeve after their aggressive confrontation with Bellatrix a few months ago.
So when Snape sent a petrifying hex his way, Regulus flicked his wand cleanly towards his feet.
“Perspicuus!”
Sirius had given him a selection of spells to cast with various occasions in mind. He had insisted that this one, which created the perception of being naked without one’s clothes actually vanishing, was equally amusing and psychologically devastating when it came to deterring a person.
Snape stumbled immediately towards the dorms, hunching in on himself in a way that, if you didn’t know what the spell was meant for, wouldn’t make any sense at all. Regulus, who did know, watched was a dispassionate expression that gave no indication of his racing heart or small shaky breaths as he picked up his book and settled himself back into his chair like nothing happened. He could feel the room around him staring for a short while before losing interest.
Regulus had done very well to assert himself now. A social defeat at Snape’s hands would have bolstered the other boy’s status to the detriment of his own—something Snape had clearly been counting on. While Regulus wasn’t his family’s heir, the Black name was significant enough to put even a first year in the crosshairs of the complex dynamics of Slytherin house, even when what he really wanted was to be left alone.
It was only an hour or so later when Dorcas and Barty came wandering down from their respective dorms, bundled up excessively and sniffling their red noses. The pair had been more reclusive since they’d come down with the same nasty case of Black Cat Influenza three days ago—something Regulus and Evan were immunized against as young children in Morgana Hill. Ever the stubborn ones, neither Slytherin had stopped attending classes. However, both had started taking a ridiculous amount of naps throughout the day.
Evan, entering the common room after his meeting with the Gobstone Club, arrived not thirty minutes after that, setting his bookbag down and taking out his history textbook. Reluctantly, Regulus put his fictional book away in favor of his matching copy.
They worked in companionable silence until Dorcas spoke.
“Do you see anything weird?” Dorcas asked, holding up her potions essay with a sickly sniffle.
“Just you.”
“Bugger off, Crouch. Nobody asked.”
“It looks great, Dorcas,” Regulus assured her distractedly after a quick read through. As his eyes scanned the page, he couldn’t help but feel like he was forgetting something. Something important.
“What is that?” Evan suddenly asked in a strange tone.
“What do you mean? It’s my essay.”
“Yes, thank you for that—why is it done so early? You’ve been waiting till the night before to get essays done since you started your new career as a professional plague-spreader.”
Regulus glanced up to see Dorcas giving Evan a peculiar look.
“Evan. That essay is due tomorrow.”
Double-taking, Regulus expected to find their friend with one of her tells that she was joking, but she just looked confused behind her tissues. Barty, too, looked unsurprised by this information, which finally made Regulus open his mouth.
“No it’s not. It’s due Wednesday.”
“Tomorrow is Wednesday.”
Regulus exchanged alarmed looks with Evan, who closed his History of Magic textbook with a nervous snap. They had a quiz scheduled for tomorrow morning on the history of Britain’s magical counties and the Halibor Experiments: two topics he and Regulus knew very well from having the same childhood history tutor, Madam Thornhill. Tonight was supposed to be a relatively lazy evening in with the rare advent of their sniffly friends emerging from the dorm to spend time with them for once.
“Today isn’t Tuesday,” Evan insisted.
“Since tomorrow is Wednesday, the shoe rather fits, Rosier. Why? You did do the essay, right?”
Since Dorcas and Barty had taken ill, their group had been missing each other when it came to homework. Usually they did it all together in the library, but lately their sick friends had insisted on retreating to the dorms to pursue their classwork in bed. Regulus and Evan, who could no more focus on schoolwork in their dorm than the castle roof, had been peeling off from Dorcas and Barty to do their assignments together in the common room.
Regulus pushed his history notes aside, searching for his cypress wand.
“You two swots really didn’t do it, did you!?” Barty asked incredulously, coughing.
“Tempus.”
The time appeared in neat glowing letters, suspended in the air at eye level.
Tuesday, March 4th, 1973.
Regulus felt his stomach drop.
“Fuck,” Evan concluded.
“Fuck,” Barty agreed, staring at them. He looked almost impressed. “What’s the matter with you two? Usually it’s Dorcas and I that can’t get our lives together.”
“We’re even at a disadvantage,” Dorcas added in a nasal voice, blowing her nose.
There wasn’t a good reason; not really. Regulus had just… thought it was Tuesday. There wasn’t anything deeper to it than that.
Evan looked quite sour as he put his history text aside in favor of pulling out his potions notes, parchment, and a quill. They had planned to spend all afternoon during their free period doing this essay. That had a plan. “I can’t believe this.”
Neither could Regulus.
Their friends offered to stay up with them, but Barty and Dorcas both looked completely pathetic and Regulus ordered them both to bed when it looked like they both might pass out in their quest to demonstrate their loyalty. The essay took two hours to complete, which brought them right up to one o’clock in the morning by the time they’d finished.
“I’d much rather sleep than study for History of Magic,” Evan sighed, pulling the history textbook back into his lap.
Professor Binns had instructed them to read chapters twelve and thirteen on the magical counties of Britain and Halibor Experiments, anticipating a quiz on the subject during their next class. He had said it all in his usual distracted voice as he drifted backward into the blackboard, cutting off the last syllables of his warning, but Regulus didn't think for a second he didn’t mean it.
“What if we just… didn’t.”
Evan raised a brow at Regulus, who was equally exhausted and feeling a bit reckless. “I still want a good grade, Reg.”
“Madam Thornhill taught us the Halibor Experiments thoroughly. We could pass without reading the chapters. I bet we could.”
Madam Thornhill had been Regulus’s and Evans’s history tutor when they were children. She had started out tutoring Regulus and Sirius in the mornings after being recommended to their mother by their Aunt Druella, eventually spending the afternoons at Rosier Castle next door instructing Evan.
Evan hesitated. “I'm so tired,” he admitted.
The two of them didn’t often rest on their laurels of being born into old families that treated pre-Hogwarts tutors as the norm. The Meadowes and Crouch families didn’t seem to believe in such preparation, but at the risk of sounding snooty even in his own mind, Regulus thought that was the problem with new money. They’d assured Dorcas and Barty that it was a stupid idea to rely on their head start; that they wouldn’t.
But…
“Nobody’s going to know.”
Evan didn’t look convinced. “They’re going to know.”
“How?” Regulus asked pointedly.
Evan chewed his bottom lip, clearly tempted. “Well… I suppose if we don’t say anything… Just this once, of course.”
“Of course,” Regulus agreed, closing his textbook with a flourish.
“Great. Let’s go to bed. I'm about to pass out."
If the pair of them were a little more jumpy the next day, Regulus would have blamed it on the lack of sleep. No one said anything about it, however, even though Barty and Dorcas both commiserated with their long night. When the four of them settled down to take their history quiz, Regulus almost had himself tricked into thinking it would all be okay.
“Books away, books away,” Professor Binns muttered vaguely, his thousand-yard-stare at a point slightly to the left of the door. “Please take out parchment and a quill.”
As a ghost, Binns couldn’t write the questions on the chalkboard behind him. Instead, he verbally stated each one, repeating it twice and giving them time to answer before moving on to the next.
“True or false,” Binns began. “The Halibor Experiments scientifically disproved the notion that Muggle brains were less able to reason than those of wixen.”
False, Regulus wrote confidently. Madam Thornhill had in fact been very passionate in her explanation that the Halibor Experiments were hoaxes.
“Who was the principal investigator of the Halibor Experiments?”
Pisces Prewett.
“What award was this wixen granted for their work in the field of evolutionary magical studies?”
Regulus frowned, baffled. Award? Prewett was denounced as a fraud, according to Madame Thornhill. He never received an award. In his peripheral vision, Regulus saw Evan’s quill pause abruptly, clearly thinking the same thing.
It had to be a trick question. Regulus decided to put none.
The final two questions were at least easy enough. They were about the magical counties of Britain, which Regulus breezed through.
“All done, then?” Binns inquired in his reedy voice, hovering near his desk. When no one protested this, he nodded vaguely. “Very well. Bring your quizzes up to the front here and we will continue with our fascinating discussion of the Gnome Wars of 1789…”
Later on that day, Potions was going perfectly. Regulus was certainly confident about the essay he turned in, at least. He was far too good at the subject to stumble, and Slughorn gave him ten points for answering the opening questions he put to the class.
Regulus wasn’t even thinking about the history quiz anymore by the time Slughorn called for the class to observe the time. Twenty minutes remained, which didn’t much matter because he and Barty had long moved on from bottling their Sleep Solution in favor of experimenting with their leftover ingredients.
“Add the woodworm,” Barty whispered.
“Absolutely not,” Regulus replied, sprinkling the leftover rosehip into their cauldron.
“Can you believe Ironford really thinks a stupid rabbit’s foot is going to solve all his study problems?” Barty scoffed, watching him work.
“Sirius convinced him it would.”
Barty rolled his eyes. “Your fucking brother, honestly.”
Regulus grimaced. He hadn’t seen Sirius all day, except for in the distance. The horrible taunts from Snape were too humiliating to discuss and he felt so powerlessly embarrassed when one of the meaner fourth years had made kissing sounds at him when Sirius had entered the great hall for breakfast that morning. None of the other first years had noticed, but Regulus had been hyperaware of the taunt.
“Okay, it’s done.” Regulus ladled up a moderate amount and attempted to hand it over Barty. “Drink it.”
“You drink it. I’m not interested in dying today!”
“It’s safe, I swear.”
“Great, so you’ll have no problem drinking it so I can watch what happens to you.”
“Gentlemen,” Professor Slughorn suddenly interrupted from directly behind them, making the two of them jump. Regulus accidentally dropped the ladle back into their caldron with a splash. “How are you coming along?”
Barty smiled charmingly as Regulus tried to work out if they were about to be in trouble or not.
“Just fine, sir. We’re done, in fact.”
“And yet I see you’re still chopping elf mushrooms.”
“Well, yes,” Regulus allowed, “but it would have gone to waste anyway since the insides have been exposed to air. We’re testing a theory now by crushing the elf mushroom instead of chopping them and adding it to our leftover Sleeping Solution base.”
“I see.” Slughorn looked very curious. “What do you predict the effect will be, Mister Black?”
“I’m not entirely sure that it will work properly,” Regulus demurred. “But I would think that it should create alertness.”
“So you’ve used a sedative base to create a partial paradoxical stimulant,” the professor surmised, looking interested. “That’s very impressive.”
“Thank you,” Regulus said simply.
“Do bottle a sample for me, boys. Label it extra credit, and it will be so if your theory is correct.” Slughorn gave a giant wink before wandering off to supervise the rest of the class. “That’s five minutes to go, young witches and wizards!”
“Nice!” Barty complemented as soon as the professor walked away. “What are you doing?” he added when Regulus filled not one but two vials.
He shrugged, corking both. “It’s ours, isn’t it?”
“You never saved any of our others,” Barty pointed out, obediently labeling the one handed to him.
That was true, but there was something different about this one. Something thrilling in knowing that he, Regulus, had used his own judgment to create something off-script. Instead of explaining his hoarding, however, Regulus just shrugged again, stashing the smuggled sample in his bag.
He peeled off from his friends as they made for the great hall, citing the need to use the restroom first. He discovered with annoyance that Peeves had flooded the first-floor boy’s bathrooms, forcing him to re-route to the second floor. It was there that he encountered his brother as they both took a corner at the same time, nearly running into each other.
“Oi!” Sirius complained initially, swerving out of the way. “Watch where you’re—Reggie!” he concluded with a cheer, brightening.
Regulus uttered a startled greeting, feeling wrong-footed.
“I haven’t seen you all day! How’s it coming?”
This put Regulus in a fairly new position: not informing Sirius immediately when something was wrong.
He wanted to be independent now that he was at Hogwarts. None of the other children around him went running to their siblings the second someone looked at them wrong. Sure, Snape had been nasty, but Regulus could be nasty right back if he tried. He would be Nasty with a capital N. He didn’t need Sirius to intercede on his behalf.
Maybe he was being a crybaby about this.
“It’s fine,” Regulus replied after a beat.
A couple of fifth-year Slytherins walking by made exaggerated kissing noises at them, which made Sirius frown in confusion.
“What’s wrong with your housemates?” he asked, staring hard at the back of them.
Regulus didn’t know how to answer that, so he didn’t answer at all.
Sirius turned back to ask again. “Reggie?”
“I don’t know,” he lied.
He could sort through this on his own. He had decided that already. Starting right now, he wasn’t going to just run to Sirius with all his problems.
“Are you avoiding me or something?” Sirius asked bluntly.
There was definitely a temptation to just blurt out what had happened so Sirius could address it. And he knew Sirius would. His brother was always bigger, stronger, and frankly more aggressive. He’d done it before, Sirius’s accidental magic burning Alvin Avery’s robes when he’d shoved Regulus out of his way at a ball held two years ago at Avery Manor.
But that wasn’t how Slytherin house worked.
“I’m not avoiding you.”
“Then why haven’t I seen you around?”
The truth was, Regulus had also been a bit worried that Sirius had heard about Regulus resorted to using blood status as an insult. The fact that Sirius hadn’t mentioned it yet was a pretty good sign, though. Slytherins tended to keep their politics within the house, presenting a more united front to the rest of the school.
“What are you doing now?” Regulus deflected, looking at the three bulging bags of tea candles that Sirius was trying to smuggle under his cloak.
His brother grinned mischievously, caught up enough in whatever chaos he was on his way to create that he let Regulus’s evasion stand. “A prank! And you’re going to help,” he added spontaneously, shoving one of the bags into Regulus’s arms, jerking his head and walking off.
Sighing, Regulus resigned himself to… whatever this was, following along as Sirius strutted towards the transfiguration corridor while maintaining a steady narration.
“—and then Marlene told me that she was going to try out for Beater in two years too! That means you and I have to really practice over the summer. Which reminds me, we have to think of a prank for us to play during Bella’s wedding.”
Regulus frowned at the mention of Sirius’s reckless plan. He had been put in charge of handing Sirius the enchanted candles one by one as his brother placed them just behind each suit of armor lining the hall before lighting them with his wand. “That’s going to end badly.”
Sirius scoffed, igniting his wand again when the flame faded. “Don’t be so nervous about everything, Reggie. Live a little.”
“I’m actually trying to live a lot. Hopefully several more years at least, which is why I’m not so sure about your stupid plan.”
“Well what do you suggest?”
Regulus considered for a moment, recalling the last wedding they’d attended of another, more distant cousin. “Let’s keep count of how many times someone asks Bella or Lestrange when they’ll get to having heirs.”
Sirius laughed, looking up from his task. “Oh that’s brilliant! Bella hates those kinds of questions but she won’t dare make a scene at her own wedding!”
“We can put a counter somewhere in the room,” Regulus improvised. “No one but us will know why the number keeps going up.”
Cackling, his brother got to his feet, flinging an arm around Regulus’s shoulders and ruffling his hair. “You’re so bloody clever, you little menace!”
Pleased, Regulus ducked his head slightly. “Do you think there’s a spell for that?”
Sirius rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe. I’ll look into it. But if not, I guess we’ll just invent one.”
“You can invent spells?”
“Sure! And potions and magical artifacts, too!”
“Potions,” Regulus echoed intently, thinking of the vial of potion he’d altered on a whim in his bag. “I want to invent a potion.”
“I bet you invent one that makes history. They’ll have whole conferences where they want you to talk about your potion.”
And because Sirius knew everything, Regulus looked at him with solemn eyes filled with trust. “Yes. I’m going to do that.”
Sirius just smiled at him, ruffling his hair even more. “C’mon kid, let’s put the rest of the candles down. We’ll go to the kitchens after for a snack. Then I’ll teach you how to cheat at Gobstones! Oh Merlin, you should have seen Peter’s face when I won yesterday. I thought he was going to reach across the table and strangle me…”
Two days later, at the end of their second History of Magic lesson for the week, their quizzes were returned to them.
Regulus had honestly forgotten about it, considering things had been very straightforward. He was discussing the newest gossip in the Slytherin common room that they’d overheard on their way out the door that morning—some upper year had been caught cheating on their sort-of boyfriend and all sorts of people were upset by that. Regulus glanced down briefly as Barty spoke on the subject only to do a double take, snatching his parchment up with a choked-off gasp.
60% was printed in red ink at the top.
“This has to be a mistake!” Evan protested next to him, cutting the conversation off. He looked equally thrown by his matching grade. Forgoing niceties, Evan reached over and snatched Regulus’s quiz out of his hands. “What the fuck!?”
“Yeah, what the fuck?” Barty agreed, much more baffled as he leaned over Evan’s shoulder to compare their answers. “What the hell did you two read?”
Frustrated, Regulus stole Barty’s quiz and held it up next to the two Evan was reviewing.
100%.
“What happened?” Dorcas squinted.
“It’s the Helibor Experiments, Reg,” Evan announced grimly.
Regulus didn’t even know what to say to that. Focusing on Barty’s quiz questions, he found the two answers that he had gotten right but Regulus and Evan had gotten wrong.
“‘True?’” Regulus repeated, offended. “That’s not the answer.”
Barty and Dorcas stared at them.
“Are you having us on right now?” Dorcas asked.
“Did you two read the chapter at all?”
“…Not exactly.”
Dorcas looked annoyed. “You silly gits are making it really hard to sympathize with you. What did you think was going to happen if you didn’t study?”
“We did study!” they said together.
“Just not… recently,” Evan added lamely.
Dorcas raised a brow. “Sorry, but what the fuck does that mean?”
Barty agreed. “You failed the easier questions on the quiz. Where did you get an idea like that?”
“From our nutter tutor!” Regulus tossed down their quizzes in disgust. “We should have seen this coming at some point, Ev. She used to tell us that she was petitioning the Ministry to bring Muggle Hunting back!”
“...Oh, wow.”
There was an awkward silence as Barty and Dorcas tried to figure out what to say while Regulus and Evan stewed on the subject.
“Sorry,” Dorcas finally offered.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Evan groused, shoving the poor grade out of sight.
“…I’m sorry.”
Evan blinked at him. “What? Why?”
“You wanted to study. You would have known the right answers if I hadn’t persuaded you to come to bed.”
Shaking his head, Evan placed his hands on Regulus’s shoulder. “Okay, first of all, I absolutely did not want to study. What I wanted was sleep, and you didn’t make me choose between those things, so don’t get hung up on it. And second of all, we both would have known the right answers if our tutor hadn’t lied to us. That’s not our fault, Reg.”
“Right…”
“Reg?”
Regulus looked up.
“It’s not our fault,” Evan repeated intently.
“It’s not our fault.”
“Exactly. But we’d best never skip the readings again.”
“No kidding.”
Notes:
Next time:
James snags Regulus to watch a quidditch match.
Chapter 16: Distracted
Summary:
This time:
James snags Regulus to watch a quidditch match.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The third match of the new year was Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff which, while interesting, did not hold nearly the amount of drama that Sirius had told Regulus Gryffindor vs Slytherin matches provoked.
The three of them—minus Evan, as usual—followed the frost-crusted path down the lawn with a clutch of other students headed for the quidditch pitch. It was cold out, so Regulus wrapped his thick gray cloak more tightly around himself as he listened to Dorcas and Barty argue, blending in with the rest of the post-breakfast crowd.
“I think the Wigtown Wanderers should trade their seeker this year. I don’t even care to who at this point—I’d take three flobberworms in a trench coat over Valerie Valkyrie.”
Regulus didn’t get to hear Dorcas’s answer because he was suddenly yanked back by his cloak. He staggered, surprised, as the person behind him shoved the back of Regulus’s knees forward, out from under him. For one wild moment, he thought he would fall—but in a single swift motion, two arms appeared, abruptly snatching him up and carting him away from his friends.
He struggled immediately to get away, his heart beating frantically as he opened his mouth to raise the alarm, but a burst of firecrackers directly ahead drowned out his protests and distracted his friends.
“Hi Reg!” his kidnapper, James Potter, chirped.
His tan skin was warm in the early spring chill, and he held Regulus cradled with one arm under his legs and the other supporting his upper back like a bride. Potter was jogging to the right, veering off towards a Gryffindor section of the stands. Heart racing for different reasons now, Regulus again tried to squirm away, only to be held more tightly to the taller boy’s chest.
He could feel himself turning red.
“Potter? What the hell are you doing!?”
“You’re watching our game with us!” Potter cheered.
“No I'm not! Put me down!”
“Down?” Potter repeated mischievously, slowing his speed to a walk. Regulus suddenly felt the Gryffindor’s arms dip down from under his back, making his upper body drop abruptly towards the ground.
Startled, Regulus wrapped his arms around the back of his neck on reflex. “POTTER!”
“It doesn’t seem like you want that!” he teased playfully, readjusting to hold Regulus more securely against him. “But don’t you worry—I have just the place to put you! It’s a surprise!”
But Regulus was pretty sure he already knew.
“Reggie!” Sirius cheered a few moments later when Potter hauled him into his line of sight. Regulus had given up struggling about halfway through the journey, channeling his energy instead on crossing his arms and perfecting his scowl every time Potter had glanced down at him with his stupid grin. Sirius was flushed and his hair was ruffled, as though he’d just run there. He also smelled slightly of fireworks. “Nice work, James!”
“He didn’t make it easy. Ow,” Potter added, depositing Regulus in the empty seat on Sirius’s right side and dodging a second pinching from the disgruntled Slytherin.
“Hi, Regulus.” Marlene McKinnon, the girl from Sirius’s birthday party, smiled at him from the row above. “I’m sort of surprised to see you here.”
“So am I. Sirius, let me go!” he protested as he attempted to stand, only for his brother to hang off him like a monkey.
“But you just got here!”
“The game is about to start! I don’t have time for this!”
“Didn’t James say? You’re watching our game with us!”
“I don’t want to!” Regulus persisted. He was incredibly aware of Potter standing just behind him and it was making him inexplicably jittery. “I—"
“OI!!! BLACK!!!”
Regulus and Sirius both looked in the direction of the yell.
It was Barty, hands cupped around his mouth and leaning dangerously over the side of the tower of stands to their right. Dorcas stood behind him, her arms held akimbo and looking indignant.
“THE HELL ARE YOU DOING OVER THERE!?”
“He likes us better!” Potter called back.
“…WHAT?”
“HE LIKES US BETTER!” Potter bellowed in order to be heard.
“NIFFLERSHIT, YOU KIDNAPPER!”
“Tell your friends you haven’t been kidnapped,” Sirius told Regulus.
“But I have been kidnapped.”
It was difficult to hear the stream of inevitable insults and colorful language that followed as Barty’s outrage was drowned out by the amplified voice of the match commentator.
“GOOD MORNING, QUIDDITCH FANS! IT’S A GREAT DAY FOR A MATCH, WHICH IS GOOD BECAUSE THESE TEAMS WOULD HAVE NO CHOICE REGARDLESS. GRYFFINDOR VS HUFFLEPUFF WILL BE THE SECOND TO LAST MATCH OF THIS SCHOOL YEAR, TO REFRESH EVERYONE’S MEMORY, AND IT SOUNDS LIKE WE’RE ABOUT READY TO GET STARTED!”
The Gryffindors surrounding Regulus hooted enthusiastically, clapping their hands and stomping their feet. The stands seemed to shudder from the force of it. Sandwiched between Sirius and Potter, who had settled on the other side of him, Regulus found he had little choice but to stay put and watch the cloud of scarlet-clad figures storm onto the field to tumultuous applause, met in the center by a separate cluster of players swathed in bright yellow.
“MADAM HOOCH HAS RELEASED THE BLUDGERS… NOW THE SNITCH… AND HERE COMES THE QUAFFLE! HUFFLEPUFF IN POSSESSION!”
The game was fast-paced and occasionally rough. The stars of the show were without a doubt the Hufflepuff beaters, who work so synchronously that it was like watching a game of catch—except you were doing it a hundred feet in the air, and the balls you were catching wanted to kill you.
“We’re down by ten,” Sirius complained about halfway through the game, leaning right into Regulus’s personal space to consult with Potter. Regulus sighed pointedly in annoyance, which his brother ignored. “This would be a really good time for Coal to catch the bloody snitch! I can’t tell if she’s even seen it this match!”
The odd thing was, even Regulus hadn’t seen the snitch yet and they were two hours into the game. At the risk of thinking too highly of himself, he was surprised by this. Regulus had always spotted the snitch at least once before the seekers playing made a move on it.
Where is it?
Sirius loomed over him repeatedly over the course of the next few minutes in order to be heard by Potter as they conversed, invading Regulus’s personal space casually and with the familiarity of a close sibling. Regulus was so used to having his brother hovering around him his entire life that it only vaguely registered as Regulus continued his search for the snitch, his eyes darting from one spot to another over Sirius’s shoulder.
His focus was abruptly ripped away when suddenly it was Potter leaning across Regulus to speak to Sirius.
A rush of fresh grass, broom varnish, and the tang of sweat clouded his senses as the sheer cologne of boy washed over him. It smelled amazing and Regulus was completely taken off guard by it, so he did the logical thing and shoved Potter away.
His brother’s best friend didn’t resist and leaned back into his own chair.
“Sorry! I thought you wouldn’t mind!”
“You were practically climbing on my head!” Regulus protested.
“So was Sirius!”
“Sirius doesn’t count,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
His brother rolled his eyes. “Wow, thank you.”
“But really, Sirius,” Potter continued, speaking from his seat without invading his personal space again. “If you try out the year after next, you could replace Caden Coldwater as Beater, since Poppet Primley took the other spot this year…”
Regulus couldn’t focus on the conversation at all. His chest felt fluttery in a way that reminded him of those sporadic moments around Barty when he couldn’t help but wonder if his hair looked okay and stress over whether the comment he’d made was funny enough. He averted his eyes to stare straight ahead like his life depended on it, trying to will away the urge to sneak another breath of Potter’s scent.
He spotted the snitch by happenstance while he was trying to get it together, noting the golden ball hovering lazily above the grass adjacent to the stands he was seated in. Regulus could understand why he and the two seekers had struggled to notice it, since it had picked a spot where the spectator stands cast a shadow over that part of the field.
“There’s the snitch,” Regulus interrupted the discussion, eager to show off to the older boys. For Sirius, it was obvious: he was on a constant quest to cultivate his brother’s approval and had a pretty good track record for it. For Potter… Regulus wasn’t ready to think why he needed the bespeckled Gryffindor’s admiration.
“Oh! Nice eye, Reggie!” Sirius exclaimed when Regulus told him where to look.
Potter was still squinting through his glasses in the direction Regulus indicated—his eyesight really must be horrendous—when a solid thwak followed by shrieks made him switch his gaze from Potter to where the bludger that a Slytherin chaser had just dodged was coming straight for him.
He had just enough time to think stupidly that he had never seen a bludger hit a spectator in any of the other Hogwarts games he’d attended before Potter was suddenly yanking Regulus towards him. Sirius had lunged for him too, but Potter had been faster, leading to his brother misjudging the distance and leaning awkwardly into the seat Regulus was still half-in.
The bludger hit fast and hard, aiming directly for Regulus’s seat, but at the last second, semi-transparent shields flickered into life in front of the whole section. The steel ball smashed into the magic with a spectacular burst of energy and fireworks.
Regulus felt his heart hammering against his ribs as he took in huge lungfuls of air mixed with Potter’s soothing scent. Around him, students were giggling nervously as the rest of the crowd cheered at the light show.
Suddenly, he was yanked from Potter’s grip by his brother, who looked very pale.
“Are you okay?” Sirius demanded angrily. He didn’t wait for an answer before leaping to his feet, swearing loudly at his own team’s Beater, who had flown over to shout a quick “Sorry, mates!” before taking off again.
“I’m fine,” Regulus insisted.
“YOUR BEATER’S A BLOODY MADMAN!” they heard Barty howl from his place in the stands next door.
“Well of course they weren’t really going to let spectators get hit like that,” Sirius tried to convince himself. He was fussing nervously over Regulus, but seemed mostly satisfied that he hadn’t been harmed. Subverting his own rule from the train ride at the beginning of the year that had banned the action, however, Sirius gripped his little brother’s cloak tightly, as though to reassure himself.
“I’m fine, Sirius,” Regulus repeated soothingly.
“Lucky for bloody Coldwater,” Sirius said darkly.
“THE HUFFLEPUFF SEEKER HAS SPOTTED THE SNITCH!” the commentator interrupted, turning all eyes skyward.
In the chaos of the bludger strike, the golden snitch had moved from the shadowed spot on the field up into the air near the Hufflepuff goalposts. The keeper was trying to stay perfectly still so as not to scare away the snitch that was flitting around her ankles. The Hufflepuff seeker was nearly on her by now, beginning to brake in order not to crash into her teammate.
The snitch seemed to sense the attention on it and quickly flitted away from the keeper, ascending sharply towards the clouds as the Gryffindor seeker began her frantic pursuit after it from midfield.
Regulus had a feeling that the sharp incline wouldn’t last. The snitch had been lazy the entire game and seemed to prefer staying out of the sun today. He was fairly certain that it would try to return to skulking around the shade.
“You think so?” Sirius hummed as Regulus told him all this, not taking his eyes off the Gryffindor seeker’s progress. “Alright, you’re on. I’ll bet you a pumpkin pasty the snitch evens out and stays level.”
But sure enough, Sirius had barely gotten the words out when the snitch began to dive in a steep arch, dodging the Gryffindor seeker that had caught up. It raced towards the shade, as Regulus had predicted, and suddenly, both seekers were neck in neck, in hot pursuit.
The entire stadium seemed to leap to their feet. Regulus was dragged along as Sirius, still holding his cloak, hauled him up to stand next to him.
“C’MON, COAL!”
“GO ON!”
“CATCH IT, ANGELA! GO, GO, GO!”
The screams around him were deafening and the adrenalin of the chase was making Regulus’s heart race. He watched the girls hurtle towards the ground at an unnerving pace. Fortunately, it didn’t call for a full-on game of chicken because the Gryffindor seeker managed to pull ahead just enough to wrap her fingers around the snitch and pull up, still twenty feet from the ground.
“GRYFFINDOR CATCHES THE SNITCH! WHAT A RACE TO THE FINISH! FINAL SCORE: 210 TO 100! A GRYFFINDOR WIN.”
The Gryffindor students around him were beside themselves with glee. Sirius roared in a poor imitation of a lion, finally letting go of Regulus to dance around with Potter as Lupin and Pettigrew stomped and clapped with the rest of their house.
“GRY-FFIN-DOR! GRY-FFIN-DOR! GRY-FFIN-DOR!”
The Gryffindor seeker soared above their heads, holding the snitch proudly aloft, making the crowd cheer harder. It really had been a good catch, so Regulus clapped a few times in the name of good sportsmanship.
There was no need to decide how to leave the stands, because a great wave of momentum carried Regulus towards the exit as the students around him fled their seats. There was much discussion of the party that had been arranged for their win and Sirius outlined the highlights, which apparently included a paper mâché lion that someone had stuffed with candy and hung off the ceiling in their common room for people to blindly bat at.
“I thought you’d bloody died!” Dorcas exclaimed the second they were in earshot, having exited the nearby Slytherin stands at the same time. “Merlin, that was insane!”
“They wouldn’t let spectators get injured, Meadowes,” Sirius said condescendingly like he hadn’t nearly had a heart attack and resorted to hanging off his sibling for the rest of the match.
“You didn’t cheer for them, did you?” Barty wanted to know immediately.
Regulus rolled his eyes. “I was sitting right there. It would have been rude not to, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely. So you didn’t, right?”
Regulus refused to have this conversation.
“C’mon, Reggie,” Sirius all but sang, “time for the victory party!”
Barty grabbed a handful of Regulus’s robes and pulled him back towards the other Slytherins. “He’s not going with you! He’s going back to our common room with us!”
“But we won!”
“So!?”
“Barely!” Dorcas said at the same time.
“Reggie,” Sirius prompted him expectantly.
He didn’t know what to say. On one hand, Sirius was asking him to do something. He had pretty much always done what Sirius had asked before, but then again, he hadn’t ever had friends pulling him in the opposite direction–literally, in this case.
What was he supposed to do?
“Leave it, Sirius,” Lupin stepped in unexpectedly, gently tugging his brother back in the direction of the waves of celebrating Gryffindors. “It’s not his party and that’s okay.”
“Of course it’s his party!” Sirius said stubbornly. “If it’s my party, it’s his party. He’s my little brother.”
“Yes, he is,” Lupin agreed soothingly, shooing Sirius away. “And he was very nice to sit with you for the match. Now let him be.”
“But–!”
“Let’s go before the butterbeers are all gone!” Potter said quickly, latching onto Sirius’s side and dragging him away. “Do you think we could nip a bit of Firewhisky from the seventh years?”
Sirius was distracted enough by that compelling question that the Slytherin first years seized their chance. With Barty and Dorcas on either side of him, Regulus was urged into the chaos of the crowd where Sirius’s reply was quickly drowned out by the cacophony of a hundred conversations going on at once.
“That was close,” Dorcas announced, letting go only when they had cleared the entrance hall doorway.
“Your fucking brother!” Barty grumbled, a familiar line by now. “Quick, let’s get to the dungeons before he kidnaps you again!”
“Hey, Reggie!”
Regulus looked up from his place next to Evan in the library, already frowning.
It was Potter, dressed in his stupid Gryffindor robes and sporting a garish Gryffindor knit hat that he must have gotten for Yule. The number of times Regulus had encountered Potter solo seemed to be steadily increasing, which was a frankly intolerable statistic.
His heart fluttered traitorously.
“Don’t call me that.”
Potter laughed. “Sorry, it’s what Sirius calls you. Maybe I need my own name for you.”
“You really don’t.”
Either unable or unwilling to sense his lack of welcome, Potter threw himself into the seat next to Regulus. Evan briefly glared across from them before going back to his charms essay. Barty was fortunately not present, having vanished with Dorcas to practice with their Beaters kits outside. That blend of fresh grass, broom varnish, and sweat clung to Potter like a second skin, making Regulus want to lean towards him.
“How’s Hogwarts so far?”
“It’s fine,” he said distractedly.
“Have you found any secret passages? Oh! Do you want to see this really cool one I found the other day?”
Regulus didn’t understand where this conversation was going in the slightest. “Did Sirius put you up to this?”
“Nah, Sirius is busy carrying out our prank in the Ravenclaw common room. Do you want to go see it?”
“So you’re looking for an alibi, is that it?”
Potter looked offended. “What? No!”
Regulus didn’t believe him and said as much.
“Sirius doesn’t even know I’m here. I thought we could, you know. Hang out? Just you and I.”
Regulus stared at him.
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re an idiot.”
Potter laughed. “Yeah, but you say that to Sirius constantly.”
“And I mean it constantly,” Regulus replied dryly. “Because he’s my brother.”
Potter looked a little tense and a lot determined. “Right. So, that’s… about that—”
Suddenly, Sirius appeared at Potter’s elbow, nearly glowing with satisfaction from whatever he’d been up to. He opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to spot Regulus sitting at the last second.
Sirius looked back and forth between them. “What’s going on?”
Regulus frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing,” Potter said at the same time.
Sirius looked irritated by the denial. “Why are you talking to him?”
“It’s just a bloody conversation, Sirius,” Potter replied defensively. “Are you done with Ravenclaw?”
“...Yeah.”
“What were you doing?” Regulus asked.
His brother oddly looked like he wanted to once again ask Regulus the same thing, but pushed aside the urge at the last moment. “Well, do you remember the mirror that guards their dorm? The one that asks a riddle and the answer lets you inside?”
“Sure?”
“We’ve enchanted it to only accept wrong answers! See, we got the idea when…”
Sirius continued on a long-winded explanation of some interaction he and his friends had had with a Ravenclaw in their Transfiguration class. Regulus humored him patiently right up until Evan finally gave a loud sigh and snapped his book shut.
“Can you lot take this debriefing outside? I’m trying to bloody study!”
April
The Holyhead Harpies played and won against the Wigtown Wanderers on Saturday afternoon, which quickly became everyone’s problem when Dorcas refused to shut up about it.
Regulus was happy for her.
Really, he was.
But he hadn’t had a moment’s peace in two days because she wouldn’t leave well enough alone.
Finally, he had to say something.
“I told Dorcas I wouldn’t speak to her for a week if she kept talking about the Harpies’ win. Overreaction?”
“Underreaction,” Barty replied immediately as they arrived to Charms and sat down in their usual seats. “You should have threatened violence. The Harpies suck. The Wanderers clearly should have won because, first of all, Audrey Catty fumbled that quaffle twenty times…”
Regulus gave a groan of frustration. There was no talking to Barty when he was like this. This was basically the same conversation he’d been avoiding with Dorcas! He wished longingly that Evan would appear so they could lament the subject together.
Not five minutes later, Evan showed up with an unpleasant look on his face.
Barty paused his lecture, eyeing him as he tossed his book bag on the table. “What’s your problem?”
“Dorcas!” Evan exclaimed, rooting through his bag. “We nearly missed this class because she couldn’t stop talking about that quidditch match! The bloody staircase shifted and we had to take a huge detour. I’ve informed her that I’ll dye her hair purple if she makes me late for a class again. I advise you both to do the same.”
The bell to start the lesson rang.
Regulus and Barty both glanced around.
“Where’d she go?”
“Alright, class,” Flitwick began to speak, pausing briefly to register the classroom door opening again and Dorcas Meadowes creeping through it. “Today we’ll be focusing on the unlocking charm…”
“You’re a bloody nightmare, Rosier!” Dorcas hissed, sliding into her seat.
Her hair was a shocking violet.
As one, Regulus and Barty looked at Evan judgmentally.
“I had to prove I was willing to go through with it,” Evan claimed, unrepentant. “Slytherins don’t respect threats. They respect deliverable vengeance.”
“Good! Because I’ve got some deliverable vengeance for you—!”
“Ms. Meadowes,” Flitwick called, disapproving. The entire class turned to look at them, some Ravenclaws starting to giggle as they noticed Dorcas’s new hair color. “If you are going to be late, do not also be disruptive.”
“Yes, Professor.”
The charms Professor went back to his lecture as Evan grinned into his hands.
Without missing a beat, Dorcas reached over and swept his ink well into his lap.
Cursing, Evan jumped to his feet, startled.
“Mr. Rosier!”
“Sorry, Professor,” Evan ground out, glaring at his friend. His black school robes camouflaged the black ink, but his white long-sleeve uniform shirt did not. “My ink slipped.”
Flitwick eyed their group suspiciously as Barty and Regulus worked hard not to meet each other’s eye for fear of laughing. “I think we need to change the seating for today. It seems you all need a break from each other.”
The impulse to laugh instantly vanished.
“Professor—“
“Mr. Crouch, you may relocate next to Ms. Trelawny.”
“But I didn’t do anything!” Barty protested.
“Five points from Slytherin.”
Barty began to gather his things mutinously as Flitwick began scanning the room.
“Mr. Black, the seat next to Ms. Ollivander is free.”
Learning from Barty’s mistake, Regulus gathered his belongings with dignity. He hadn’t had time to take out much more than his textbook, so he was ready to move at the same time as Dorcas, who sullenly followed her marching orders to a place next to Christopher Burke.
Evan was left by himself, which seemed to be the worst punishment of all. He was entirely alone at their table, and while he liked to talk a big game about peace and quiet, he looked unhappily after them all as the three of them settled into opposite corners of the room.
“Ollivander,” Regulus acknowledged politely, setting his book down on the table beside her.
“Hello, Regulus Black.”
Pandora Ollivander was a small blonde girl with a sweet smile, uncannily bright blue eyes, and a focus that made Regulus glance away on reflex. He’d never spoken to her before, though they obviously shared several classes. She didn’t say anything else, which suited Regulus just fine as he picked up his quill and began to take notes on the unlocking charm that the professor was beginning to explain.
“Can you swim?”
They had been released to practice the unlocking charm in pairs but Ollivander had apparently decided to engage in random conversation rather than attend to something as irrelevant as schoolwork.
“What?” Regulus asked, distracted, as he practiced the hooked wand movement for the charm.
“Swim,” the Ravenclaw repeated with that same unnervingly focused look in her eye. “Can you swim?”
“Yes?” Regulus half-asked, wondering what this was about. “Of course I can swim.”
“But not well.”
He stopped what he was doing in order to stare at her.
Sirius had taught him to swim when they were kids in the stream dividing their property from Rosier Castle. They had had a few sessions with a proper tutor that their father had hired—Charles—but Sirius hadn’t liked him at all. He hadn’t liked how Charles’s touch lingered over Regulus’s thin arms or how intently he had watched his little brother move through the water.
Living in Grimmauld Place was like living on the edge of a knife. Sometimes when Sirius threw a fit and made demands, their mother would punish him severely. At other times—usually when Sirius was attacking their father’s plans—she seemed to approve of his bold nature, allowing him to dictate terms to an extent as the Black family’s heir.
There was just no telling which reaction was coming.
But when Sirius had decided it was time for Charles to resign, he was gone the next day. Just another distant memory of a person and place that Regulus didn’t truly understand.
A dark lake with a dark shore and a cold, clawing knowledge that something just below the surface was watching him.
Regulus felt his heart beat a little faster. “I swim fine, thank you.”
“It is important to enunciate the final syllable, students!” Professor Flitwick suddenly interrupted from a few feet away, making Regulus jump. “I want to see everyone trying, at least. No one should be sitting in their seats like we’re having a lovely tea!”
Noting the pointed look Flitwick sent his way, Regulus cleared his throat and raised his wand. “Alohomora.”
The padlock in front of him made a few distant clicking sounds before falling silent once more.
“That was very good for a first attempt, Mr. Black,” the Charms professor congratulated him as he paused next to the pair. “And Ms. Ollivander?”
“If a door is locked, professor, then perhaps it is not meant to be opened,” the Ravenclaw replied.
Instead of rolling his eyes and deducting points as Regulus would have done, Professor Flitwick smiled kindly. “A wise statement, my dear. But there are times when we lock doors accidentally. Then, are we not standing in our own way if we do not open them?”
Ollivander seemed interested in his response because she looked at Flitwick for a short while before raising her wand in answer.
“Alohomora.”
The lock in front of her clicked smoothly open.
Ugh. Ravenclaws.
Notes:
Next time:
Sirius defends Regulus violently against Snape and Macnair's taunts and the Black brothers encounter the horrifying thing that lives in the tunnel.
Very excited and motivated for everyone to cry over the Black brothers soon :D
- villain
Chapter 17: Imitation
Summary:
This time:
Sirius's vivacious personality flickers, hinting at the vicious shadows of what he's prepared to do to protect Regulus.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The highly anticipated Slytherin vs. Gryffindor match arrived in mid-April and Regulus was unsurprised to find that Barty and Dorcas were nearly beside themselves with excitement.
“This match counts for the same amount of points as any of the others,” Evan pointed out, unimpressed.
“Yes, but this one isn’t just about getting points towards the cup,” Barty explained.
“It’s also about causing emotional and psychological damage,” Dorcas concluded.
Regulus exchanged sideways looks with Evan.
“Sounds healthy.”
Their friends refused to be cowed.
“It’s the great Hogwarts pastime! Though really the best part is the jinxes and hexes the players have to dodge in the halls. It’s like the game before the game!”
Regulus had indeed noticed the complete incivility of it all. As first years, they were largely left out of the crossfire for common decency, since they didn’t have the knowledge or power to defend themselves yet. That didn’t stop the lower years of the two houses from antagonizing each other on a vast spectrum between Marlene McKinnon teasingly offering to let Dorcas borrow her Gryffindor scarf to Barty and Casper Ironford hurling insults at each other in the hallways.
“I can’t wait until we learn some decent spells,” Barty grinned, flexing his fingers into a fist. “It’ll really spice up my discussions with Ironford.”
“The minute you start hexing people, you lose the protection of being an innocent bystander,” Evan warned. “It’s an invitation for you to get hexed back.”
Barty waved a hand in dismissal, standing. “Are you done eating? We’ve got to get good seats for the match.”
Regulus and Dorcas stood obediently, but Evan remained firmly seated.
“You can let me know how it goes,” Evan protested, fending off Dorcas’s hands.
“You can manage one match!” Dorcas insisted, lunging for him again.
Evan flicked a bit of syrup into her hair, making the girl gasp in outrage and retreat immediately. “Still not interested. You lot have a good time.”
“Can you believe him!?” Barty exclaimed when they were outside, merging with the rest of the crowd making its way towards the quidditch pitch. “How can he completely ignore quidditch!? It’s unwixenly!”
Dorcas answered with a vague noise of discontent, running her fingers through her hair one final time to check for syrup residual. Evan’s original Color Changing Charm had long-since worn off, but she had kept the royal purple tone on a single braid, refreshing the color every few days. “Maybe he’ll watch if one of us makes the team.”
“Maybe.”
Just then, a hand reached out and grabbed Regulus by the robes.
He swore, startled, as an arm roped him into Sirius’s side
“Bad business, Reggie, very bad business,” Sirius tutted solemnly, pulling his little brother in conspiratorially.
“Is it?” Regulus replied irritably, twisting in a fruitless effort to escape.
“Oh yes. Terrible, terrible. I do hate making you upset, but Slytherin really has no chance.”
“Hm.”
“But don’t fret, little brother! When you lose, you—and only you—are invited to the Gryffindor common room for our victory party.”
“He’d rather eat glass, Black!” Barty spoke for him, forgetting his recent resolve to pretend Sirius didn’t exist. “And your chasers are shit! Slytherin is winning this, no contest!”
Sirius snickered meanly. “Oh you poor lamb . Well, go on and think that if you’d like. I’m looking forward to watching your seeker bungle yet another catch. What’s his success rate at this point? We’re better off tossing a coin at the start of the Slytherin matches, because there’s definitely no skill going into your seeker’s moves. More like… dumb luck .”
“C’mon, Sirius,” Lupin sighed, finally having had enough. He looked tired and Regulus couldn’t help but notice a new patch stitching his left sleeve together. The cloth looked especially worn out compared to the silk blend of Sirius’s robes as he tugged at his hand. “Let’s go down to the pitch so we can actually watch the game rather than stand around talking about it.”
“Sure,” Sirius agreed easily, tossing his head haughtily at the first years. “I’ll pick you up after the match,” he added to Regulus over his shoulder, who scowled. “Cheers!”
“ASSHOLE!” Barry yelled after him, grabbing onto Regulus’s arm and yanking him towards their group as though Sirius might think it over and decide he’d be taking Regulus with him now . “Your bloody brother, Reg, I swear to Merlin !”
“He’s just trying to get a rise out of you, you know,” Dorcas pointed out.
“Oh, I’ll give him a rise alright!”
“We’re winning this match,” Regular declared irritably to his friends as Potter looked back and winked at him. Ugh ! “We have to. Sirius and his friends are getting way too obnoxious.”
“That’s the spirit!” Dorcas crowed, linking arms with him as they began walking again. “What’ll it be then? Threats? Bribery? I’m running a special offer on sabotage.”
“Let me hear about sabotage.”
“No sabotage,” Regulus said, exasperated. “Can we just watch the game?”
They did.
“USE YOUR EYES, MULCIBAR, YOU FUCKING CREATIN!” Dorcas screamed as the fourth-year chaser miscalculated the distance to pass the quaffle. It sailed past Ophelia Pucey, who made a good effort to lunge for it, but one of the Gryffindor chasers got there first.
A Slytherin beater immediately slung a bludger at her, clipping the girl on the shoulder and forcing her to drop the quaffle.
It was a fucking bloodbath.
“A BLUDGER TO THE SHOULDER TAKES OUT HERCULES! AND THE CARNAGE GOES ON!”
Regulus would not want to be up in the air right now. Considering Dorcas and Barty had insisted that this matchup was more about causing emotional and psychological damage, there sure was a lot of physical damage to behold.
“OFF WE GO WITH SLYTHERIN IN POSSESSION! PUCEY HAS CONTROL OF THE QUAFFLE AND—OUCH, I FELT THAT ONE!”
A Gryffindor beater had swooped down next to Pucey and gave her a strong kick in the thigh, making her hunch over her broom in pain.
“FOUL!” the Slytherins around him roared.
“THAT’S A FOUL THERE! PENALTY SHOT FOR SLYTHERIN. MERLIN! I MEAN, THESE GRYFFINDOR-SLYTHERIN MATCHES SHOULD REALLY BE BANNED, BUT BLOODY HELL ARE THEY ENTERTAINING!”
Regulus had been meaning to track the snitch, but there was just so much going on in the air that he hadn’t managed to focus on that much. He’d spotted the golden ball a few times, but then a player would attempt actual murder and Regulus would be distracted by that for a while.
The whole thing was brutal.
“I can’t believe you two want to be beaters.” He grimaced, watching one chase after a mad bludger to bat it towards the opposite team.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Dorcas insisted, leaning over the railing.
“Sure it is,” Barty disagreed cheerfully. “But at least we have bats.”
Nearly an hour into the game, Regulus’s silver eyes locked onto the snitch, watching it flutter between the Gryffindor stands and the grassy field below.
“Look!” Regulus hissed, unblinking, as he dug his nails into Dorcas’s sleeve.
“Do you see it?” she demanded eagerly, trying to follow his line of sight.
Regulus tried to describe where it was, but as soon as he was halfway through the explanation, the snitch dropped further towards the ground. It dove in and out of the long grass like a dolphin dodging the wake of a boat. Then, it was darting up again: circling a Slytherin beater’s broom tail and then pinging off a Gryffindor chaser’s boot.
Regulus was dying to give chase.
A body suddenly slammed into the little golden ball, sending it flying.
“FOUL! FOUL!!!” Barty and Dorcas were suddenly screaming in his ear, pulling Regulus’s focus abruptly.
The Gryffindor beater had launched a bludger at his Slytherin counterpart, which was thoroughly illegal since there wasn’t a non-beater player within twenty feet of him to justify the play. The player had failed to dodge, taking a nasty hit to the ribs that looked like it seriously hurt, judging by the awkward way he was barely keeping himself upright afterward.
“MERLIN SAVE US ALL FROM THAT BLATANT FOUL! BLOODY HELL, AND WE’RE PAUSING THE MATCH TO MAKE SURE CASPER CALDRON IS OKAY UP THERE! HIS TEAMMATES ARE BRINGING HIM DOWN TO THE GROUND SO OUR HEALER CAN HAVE A LOOK… AAAAND IT LOOKS LIKE HE’S NOT—THERE GOES MADAME POMFREY HAULING HIM OFF THE FIELD!”
“I’m starting understand why they need a really fucking good healer at this school,” Barty said breathlessly, watching the unhappy school healer argue heatedly with Madam Hooch, who had just landed beside her.
“FORGET THE MATCH, FOLKS! I’M MORE INTERESTED IN WATCHING POMFREY TEAR HOOCH A NEW ONE!”
The two witches turned their faces up at the commentator with matching glares before breaking away from one another. Pomfrey transported Caldron towards the exit via levitating stretcher, where a pair of Ravenclaw boys anxiously awaited them.
Hooch hopped back on her broom and flew up to the commentator to have a few quiet words with him.
“GOT IT, MADAM. OKAY, WE’RE CONTINUING THE MATCH WITH OUR BEST WISHES FOR RECOVERY TO CALDRON, THERE. BEFORE WE DO THAT, HOWEVER, WE’RE GOING TO GO AHEAD AND DISMISS THE GRYFFINDOR BEATER, COLDWATER, FROM THE GAME. IT’S NO GOOD, MATE. TAKE THE BENCH.”
“I hope he’s okay.” Regulus grimaced, thinking of the rare occasions he himself had been made to drink Skelegrow after having his bones reset.
“He’ll be fine,” Dorcas said quickly before joining the chorus of booing as Caden Coldwater landed. He was red-faced and slouched to the penalty box to continue watching the match from a distance, creating two teams with one beater apiece.
Since the snitch had vanished again, Regulus took a moment to look around at the stands. He spotted Sirius with difficulty after a few minutes. In the time since they’d last spoken, Sirius and his stupid friends had all managed to dye their hair a roaring Gryffindor-red. It particularly failed to suit Lupin, whose short sandy hair seemed to have reacted badly, resulting in each strand standing at a ninety-degree angle on his scalp.
Potter, on the other hand…
Red suited Potter.
Maybe it had something to do with that ridiculous grin he constantly wore. Regulus had never met anyone who smiled as much. Even Sirius, while much happier since arriving at Hogwarts, had moments of melancholy as vast as a sea. Potter seemed completely immune to them; indeed, he seemed well-suited to drag Sirius out.
It was… nice.
“Look!” Dorcas suddenly interrupted his thoughts, pointing high in the sky. “Look at that!”
Regulus didn’t need to ask what she was pointing at as Barty did, because he saw for himself right away. The snitch was a tiny little glittering thing in the cloudless sky, pursued in earnest by the Gryffindor seeker, Angela Coal.
As visually impressive as downward dives were to the audience, Regulus knew that sudden vertical ascents had their challenges, too. Fighting to stay on your broom despite the unrelenting pull of gravity was hard work and the icy air of higher altitudes burned your eyes and cheeks. Coal pushed hard, though, and rocketed into the air flat against her broom.
It was so sudden and quick that the Slytherin seeker had no chance of responding to the situation.
Within seconds, it was over.
Gryffindor had caught the snitch.
“I can’t believe it!” Barty said for the umpteenth time, nearly vibrating with discontent as they left the stands. “I can’t!”
“I can,” Dorcas replied, no less vengefully. “Snowfeather is a fucking lunatic.”
The Slytherin seeker, Allan Snowfeather, had left the pitch at a sprint as soon as he’d landed. It was no mystery why when Coral Salt, the Slytherin trainee captain, landed immediately after, hot on his heels.
The Slytherin supporters were in a rather vengeful mood on their way out of the stadium. This was not ideal since the Gryffindor crowd was also making their way back to the castle, calling out to one another with cheers and chants for their victory.
“OI, REGGIE!”
It was Sirius, because of course it was. His brother was pushing out of the Gryffindor crowd, beaming and nearly vibrating with energy. His hair was still that bright scarlet color, and he was holding a large bag of candy and chocolate that had clearly been plowed through by the second year Gryffindors while watching the match.
“Good game,” his brother offered, ever the sore winner as he smirked down at their group.
“Yeah, I especially liked the part where your beater blatantly fouled ours and sent him to the hospital wing!”
“That’s the game, little brother!” Sirius grinned wider. “But not to worry, I brought you a loser’s consolation prize!”
He tried to hand over the bag of treats, which Regulus was grouchy enough to refuse.
“ Another courting gift, Black?” Snape drawled from a short way away. He was a part of the crowd of Slytherins that had just come from the opposite set of stands nearer to the Slytherin goalpost. “How ever could you top the last one?”
Regulus flushed as Mordred Mulciber snickered mockingly at him. Mulciber was a second year Slytherin and one of Snape’s associates. He was a bastard in both the figurative and literal sense off the Mulciber line, a distant offshoot of the Blacks.
Sirius lowered the bag, frowning. “What are you bloody on about, Snape?”
“Your brother shared all the details in the common room. He says you two are sleeping together .”
Even now, Regulus still didn’t understand what about that statement would make the students around him giggle or Sirius’s face burn. He knew it must have something to do with the way Snape had mocked him in the dungeons last month, making the strange allegation that Regulus had been betrothed to his own sibling. It was such a dirty interpretation of their brotherhood and closeness that it felt too embarrassing to even respond to.
Sirius was far less hesitant.
“ Crescere !”
“ Rictusempra !”
The ever-familiar Stinging Hex fell from Snape’s wand to whip Sirius’s wrist, but the Black brothers were used to their mother’s vicious intent, and Snape, no matter how unpleasant a person he was, was still just a child. Sirius responded with a Tickling Charm—an innocuous enough answer, but Regulus recognized the darkness in Sirius’s eyes; the rage, the vengeance .
This would not end easily or quickly.
His older brother held the spell for a long time; far longer than a normal hallway exchange between classmates that didn’t particularly get along. Snape’s pinched, unwilling laughter carried on until his voice was hoarse and his breath came in wheezes from his place collapsed on the cold grass. Regulus could see a few students in the crowd beginning to shift uneasily and he knew that Sirius was balanced upon a precipice. These people were used to the carefully polished edges of Sirius’s personality—not the jagged, angry, downright mean blade that his brother had been made to wield since they were young.
Finally, something broke.
The black fabric of Snape’s pants began to darken with urine.
It wasn’t obvious but for Regulus’s keen eye, but the angle must have been just right for James Potter to catch it too. He watched Potter give Sirius’s robes a subtle yank from behind, his hazel eyes wide behind his glasses as Sirius’s fervent concentration faltered and the spell dissipated into the air amid brutal schoolyard laughter.
While Pettigrew’s careful expression gave very little away, Potter and Lupin were very easily read. Juxtaposed with Potter’s alarm, Lupin appeared grim but unwavering. Regulus was sure that this was a boy who had also known darkness, and recognized it in Sirius as well.
“What’s going on over here!?”
No one spoke as two of the older Ravenclaw prefects elbowed their way into the middle of the scuffle. The seventh years seem to take in the scene for a moment, noting Snape breathless and furious on the ground with splotches of red on his pale cheeks, quickly gathering his robes around his lap to hide the state of his pants. Sirius was standing incriminatingly apart from the crowd, his wand held loosely at his side.
“Well?”
“Black cursed me!” Snape spat.
“He insulted my brother!”
“He made me—” Snape cut himself off abruptly, flushing darker still.
Sirius smirked. “Yes?”
Snape was obviously unwilling to reveal the loss of his faculties in such a public forum. Instead, he scowled, his coal eyes glinting like angry beetles.
A long, charged pause followed.
“Right. Headmaster’s office for both of you,” one of the boys said with a frown. “Up you get, Snape.”
Regulus tried to follow as his brother moved towards the prefect, but found himself stopped by Sirius’s hand.
“They have to know what he said! I need to explain what happened! ”
“I can explain just fine,” Sirius replied tersely, giving him a little shove towards Evan. “Dumbledore and I are practically mates now.”
“ Sirius .”
“If they call mother and father, I don’t want you to be there.”
That gave Regulus pause, his heart freezing up. “Do you think he’ll call them?”
Sirius shook him off. “I don’t know.”
“But—”
“For Merlin’s sake, Reg! I don’t need you, okay!? Just go away !”
Regulus watched, stunned, as Sirius strode away. He didn’t even look back when Potter called his name; just marched off towards the castle with one of the prefects in tow to make sure he actually went where he was supposed to go.
When the four students were out of earshot—Snape finally having gathered his barings to move haltingly towards the school as well—the chatter began.
“...Merlin’s beard, did you see that!?”
“Black was pissed !”
“What do you think Dumbledore’s going to do to him?”
“C’mon, Reg,” Evan murmured, tugging him back, away from the crowd and Dorcas and Barty’s awed speculation. “Your brother will be fine.”
“Not if Dumbledore calls our parents, he won’t.”
Evan carefully evaded that reality. He looked grim at the mention of Regulus and Sirius’s parents. “He’s made his choice. He doesn’t want you involved. He’s protecting you.”
“He can’t protect me from everything,” Regulus muttered under his breath.
“Maybe. But I think he’s going to try.”
In the end, Sirius faced relatively minimal consequences for his actions. Regulus had to admit that, rightly or wrongly, part of it may well have been some combination of being a Gryffindor and Sirius’s heir status that carried him through adversity once more. Regulus was starting to realize that there was some degree of favoritism in the works when it came to how Dumbledore interacted with students from different houses. Usually, the idea would make him bristle, but right now, he couldn’t help but be grateful.
In any case, life went on.
“We need to start studying,” Evan said suddenly.
Regulus, Barty, and Dorcas all looked up from their potions textbooks, equally annoyed. They were huddled together in one of the more relaxed study hall classrooms that was open to all houses in late April and had only just started pouring over their notes for their upcoming written quiz ten minutes ago. A steady background chatter of students working in groups created an easy ambiance.
“Does it look like we’re having a bloody tea party?” Dorcas asked.
“I mean for final exams. We need a schedule.”
“Those are months away!” Barty protested, looking further outraged when Regulus began to look thoughtful. “Oh come on, Reg! Don’t side with him!”
“It’s nearly May,” Regulus defended himself. “Which means it’s nearly June.”
“Yes, that is how months work.”
Evan shrugged. “Fine. Reg and I will study on our own.”
“I guess I should too,” Dorcas sighed.
It seemed that the only thing less tolerable to Barty than scheduled revision was not being included in scheduled revision, because he immediately protested that too.
“Fine! I’ll come!”
“You know, it used to be a lot harder to antagonize you.”
“Fuck off, Rosier.”
“I think they’re going to post the final exams schedule sometime in early May,” Evan went on. “I think each of us should be responsible for making flash cards for two subjects. That way we can divide up the work.”
“I vote that Regulus does the potions flash cards,” Dorcas said immediately.
“Seconded!”
“And make Barty do the history ones,” she added.
“Why?” Evan asked curiously, writing it down.
“So that he suffers.”
“I’m friends with you so I’m already suffering!”
Evan rolled his eyes. “I’ll do it myself,” he said, scratching out Barty’s name and replacing it with his own. “Reg, you’ve got to see if your brother has any notes from last year.”
Regulus shrugged at this assignment. “Okay.” That was easy enough. That was, if Sirius hadn’t thrown them in the fire to celebrate the wrap of his first year.
There was some discussion on what subjects should be covered by who, with liberal insults applied as Barty weathered the relentless evaluation of his abysmal handwriting.
(“I’ll have you know I was taught penmanship by the best tutors in Cashmere Lake!”
“Oh yeah? I didn’t know toads took on students.”)
Eventually they decided on a fair enough division of labor, though no one took Barty up on his overly solemn offer to shake on it.
“Glad that’s decided,” Dorcas said bracingly, clapping her hands together. She then reached into her bag and pulled out the latest issue of Quidditch Quarterly that she had been reading intermittently throughout the week.
Regulus frowned. “What are you doing?”
Dorcas shrugged, flicking through to find where she’d left off. “What’s it look like? I’m taking a break.”
“A break?” Evan echoed. “A break from what? You’ve barely done anything!”
“I’m not taking criticism from the likes of you.”
A break sounded good right about now, actually. Despite not getting much studying done, Regulus yawned behind his hand.
Evan side-eyed him for it. “This study session is falling apart.”
“Is it?” Barty asked, kicking his legs up so his shoes were resting directly on Evan’s textbook.
“Get your bloody boots off my things, Crouch!”
“Why?” Barty antagonized. “What are you gunna do about it, Rosier?”
Dorcas and Regulus grinned as Evan quickly drew his wand and sent a Knockback Jinx at their friend in the blink of an eye. Barty scrambled to react, but he was too slow to do anything but roll awkwardly off his chair to land on the floor in a tangle of robes and limbs.
“Graceful.”
“10/10 for the landing.”
“Fuck off!”
Regulus excused himself to the restroom after that, leaving his friends laughing together as he stepped into the hallway. On his way there, he spotted Sirius talking to some girl by the wall of windows overlooking the lake. She was curling a stand of dark blonde hair around one finger and leaning slightly into his older brother’s space. On his way back from the third-floor boy’s bathroom, however, the girl was gone, and Sirius was left standing alone, staring out the window.
“Hey,” Regulus said as soon as he was in earshot. His voice seemed to shake Sirius out of his thoughts, because he jerked his head around to focus on him. Things had pretty much gone back to normal after the incident with Snape. Sirius had simply never mentioned it again and Regulus followed his lead.
“Oh, hi kid,” Sirius greeted, reaching out to ruffle his curls.
Regulus dodged, but Sirius brought up his second hand to catch him at the waist and drag him back, messing up his hair even more for the escape attempt.
“Ugh, Sirius ! Let me go!”
“Go?” his brother echoed, grinning as Regulus tried to push him away. “But you just got here!”
“You’re the worst !”
Sirius clicked his tongue at him, but obediently let go. He watched as Regulus attempted to sort out his curly black hair before shaking his head and waving his hands away. “No, not like that, Reggie. Here.” Sirius thoughtlessly reached for Regulus’s wand and tapped the point against his head.
“ Crispum .”
A mist of pink light settled onto the fluffy tufts, organizing the curls into neat, loose ringlets. It was a vast improvement, to Regulus’s consideration, and he spent a moment admiring his reflection in the window nearby.
“Huh. That’s interesting.”
Regulus looked back over at his brother, still holding his wand slightly aloft. He was eyeing a statue next to them curiously, leaning close to inspect the intricate old wood carved into the shape of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor—the healer that had invented the Dragon Pox vaccine.
“What?”
“I think your wand’s trying to tell me something,” Sirius replied, delighted.
Regulus joined him in peering up at the one-eyed witch. Sirius reached out slowly and, perhaps at Regulus’s wand’s prompting, tapped the hunchbacked witch’s satchel of vaccines twice.
Nothing happened.
Sirius frowned. “Hm. Your wand seems pretty sure that something’s here. Have a go?”
Regulus accepted his wand back, rubbing his thumb over the wooden handle. It felt natural to let Sirius pick it up, cast with it, and give it back, but it was still a strange concept in magical society. Witches and wizards simply didn’t hand their wands over, and if they did, the results were usually subpar. It was rare that his wand’s specialty boost was accessible to Sirius, though it was clearly an imperfect connection, because as soon as his wand was back in his hand, a flash of insight all but hit him over the head.
“... Dissendium .”
The carved satchel shifted away, showing a tight flight of spiral stairs leading down into darkness.
“Merlin! Look, Reggie!”
“I see it,” Regulus agreed, squinting. It was a lost cause, however. There was no light emanating from the passageway to estimate how far the stairs went or to where they might lead.
“C’mon! Let’s go!”
Regulus groaned. “Sirius, I’m busy! I have to go back to study hall!”
“Perfect! You can tell me how your classes are going while we walk.”
Regulus wasn’t so sure about that. “It’s dark down there…”
“Good thing we have wands.”
“Siriu s .”
“Reggi e .”
And since Regulus was terrible at denying his big brother anything, down they went.
“So, what’s new?” Sirius asked cheerfully as they began to walk single file down the passageway, finally clearing the staircase. Their voices echoed far into the distance, implying a long walk ahead of them. It was tall enough for both of them to proceed with relative ease, but Regulus still reached for Sirius’s robes nervously.
“We're studying for finals… Do you still have your revision notes for the first-year exams?”
“Notes? Oh! Remus probably has them. He’s kept every paper he’s ever written. No interest from that one in throwing them in the fire to celebrate in June.”
Regulus rolled his eyes. He should have guessed that. “Great, thanks. I guess I’ll just be asking him then.”
Just as he was very pointedly turning to leave—not that he really would; Merlin help him, but he couldn’t just leave his stupid brother down here all alone—Sirius suddenly stopped walking.
“What’s that?” Sirius said sharply.
A curl of fear poked his stomach. “ Don’t , Sirius. It’s not funny–”
“Shhh!” Sirius tried to cover Regulus’s mouth with his hand, but missed, covering his nose instead.
Regulus swatted him away. “If you’re trying to scare me–”
Then, he heard it.
A steady, rattling breath that gurgled and struggled, punctured by the occasional wet cough.
Regulus gripped on tightly to his older brother’s robes, his heart banging against his ribs. It was suddenly too enclosed here and his breath was coming in faster pants.
He wanted to leave.
But Sirius wouldn’t go.
His brother stood frozen in front of him, his wand light flickering in and out before abruptly extinguishing, leaving Regulus alone to illuminate the path. He didn’t respond to the jerking pull at his robes as Regulus tried to communicate his desire to leave immediately, which was unusual. Sirius wasn’t very good at ignoring him under normal circumstances, and never when Regulus was in actual distress.
Without wanting to, or even really meaning to, Regulus stuck his head past his brother to see what the hell was going on.
He wished he hadn’t.
On the dirty stone floor of the dirty stone passageway, there was a body; one that twitched and struggled for breath as its wide silver eyes stared up at them from its place on its hands and knees. From between its lips, bright red blood drooled onto its bone-pale skin and dove-gray robes.
Regulus felt a strange sense of vertigo as he stood there and undeniably stared down at his own body dying in front of them.
A sudden movement from his brother made Regulus nearly tumble forward. Sirius was slowly sinking to the ground, looking incredibly pale as not-Regulus twisted its neck to look up at him.
“Sirius, Sirius !” he hissed, glancing nervously between the gruesome interpretation of himself and his brother. “Let’s go! I want to go!”
But Sirius could no more do that than look away from the caricature of Regulus, apparently. Especially when not-Regulus began to crawl towards them.
Fuck no.
Gripping the Gryffindor’s robes, Regulus put all his strength into hauling him backward down the way they’d come. It was an impossible task. Sirius was much taller and broader than Regulus and he was completely dead weight; worse than that, he almost seemed to want to move towards it. But that thing was still coming, dribbling a trail of blood as it slowly dragged itself forward, giving the occasional watery cough that made blood bubbles sputter up from its lungs.
“Sirius! Look at me,” Regulus pleaded, squeezing past his brother in order to get in front of him. He hated turning his back on the creature, but he had to stop Sirius from going to it. “ SIRIUS !!!!!”
His brother seemed to snap out of whatever trace he’d been pulled into because his eyes suddenly focused and he jumped backward. His wide eyes leapt from the thing to Regulus and back before he grabbed Regulus and shoved his brother behind him.
“Run,” he snapped.
And this time, assured that Sirius would follow, Regulus did.
He couldn’t tell if the poor imitation of himself was following them, but nor did Regulus stop to check. He ran as fast as he could back down the stone passageway, reassured by the footsteps of his brother right behind him. It was a good minute at an adrenalin-fueled sprint before they hit the first stair, which they took two or three at a time in their rush to escape.
“ Dissendium !” Regulus shouted, tapping his wand repeatedly at the shuttered exit. “ Dissendium! Dissendium!”
Finally, a crack of light began to appear at the statue’s seam, widening slowly until the two brothers were able to tumble out. Sirius quickly repeated the spell to shut the passage and they both watched anxiously as the passage through the witch closed at an agonizingly glacial pace.
Maybe it was Regulus’s imagination, but he thought he saw a pale hand reaching up from the staircase at the last second before the door sealed itself with a dull thud .
For a moment, neither of them spoke. They stayed half-sprawled on the floor next to the statue with racing hearts and fast breathes, still staring at the place where the secret passage had been.
“What the bloody hell was that?” Sirius breathed.
Regulus just shook his head in answer. “I… I don’t know—I… it was me .”
They finally looked at each other then.
As bad as Regulus was sure he looked, Sirius was an absolute wreck. His usually carefully styled shaggy hair was standing in all directions as his brother shoved his fingers through it agitatedly. He looked like he wanted to fight something, but there was nothing to seize as a target.
“Let’s get out of here,” Regulus suggested after a moment, scrambling to his feet. “I don’t want to be near that thing for another minute.”
“Yeah,” Sirius agreed distractedly, his eyes going back to fixating on the place where the secret passage had sealed itself off. “Right. C’mon.”
Notes:
Next time:
Regulus and Sirius process the aftermath of encountering the frightening thing that lives in the dark tunnel while Sirus and James fight over Regulus.
Sirius is a vicious thing that will protect his little brother at all costs. Tags have been updated to reflect a morally gray Regulus and Sirius for this reason. Lovely to see you all again--I missed you! Let's get back on track with this story!
- villain
Chapter 18: Tantrum
Summary:
This time:
Regulus and Sirius process the aftermath of encountering the frightening thing that lives in the dark tunnel while Sirus and James fight over Regulus.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Sirius seemed to have somewhere in particular in mind, because he didn’t let Regulus go back to rejoin his friends in study hall. By the time Regulus realized he was being kidnapped, they were almost at Gryffindor Tower.
Sirius barely seemed to notice the disapproving look the Fat Lady guarding the entrance gave them both for Regulus’s Slytherin robes before they were inside. There was barely time to glance at the cozy room with its warm hearth and uproarious chatter before Sirius was all but throwing them both into the second-year boys’ dorm.
On the floor in the center of the room, Sirius’s three friends were lazing about with a deck of cards and several bags of snacks between them. They looked up when the Black brothers entered.
“Oh, hi Reg!” Potter greeted enthusiastically, straightening up in his seat.
“Hi, Regulus,” Lupin and Pettigrew echoed at a much more reasonable energy level.
“We’re playing Sugarquill Pop. C’mon, we’ll deal you in next round!”
Regulus settled in between Lupin and Potter as the boys scooted back to make room for them. He left a bit of extra space for Sirius, who didn’t seem quite able to sit still long enough to take his place in the circle. Instead, he stalked over to what Regulus assumed was his bed, yanking open the bedside cabinet drawer next to it and pulling out a small card-like box filled with those strange-smelling sticks that Regulus had seen in his room over Yule.
“Are you really going to smoke that in here?” Pettigrew complained, drawing a card.
“Yes,” Sirius replied shortly, drawing his wand.
“At least open a window, for Merlin’s sake.”
“I don’t think Merlin will mind either way.”
“Are those the paper pipes the Muggles make?” Regulus interrupted, craning his neck for a better look.
Sirius ignited his wand and lit the little paper tube. “Yes. They’re called cigarettes.”
“I know what they’re called.”
“Good for you.” Sirius inhaled through his lips, coughing hard and covering his mouth with his sleeve as he did so. “Bloody hell.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Lupin commented, placing three cards down right in a row.
“I won’t,” Potter declared, scrunching his nose. “They stink. Open the window, Sirius, or I’ll throw you out it.”
Pettigrew made a noise of agreement.
Shrugging, Sirius did as asked, leaning slightly out of it as he watched the three Gryffindors finish the round. He lounged with his shirt sleeves pushed up as usual, his composure from earlier regained. He’d even managed to fix his hair back to its usual carelessly dashing state.
He was literally the coolest person Regulus had ever seen.
“So how are classes going?” Lupin prompted him after a few moments of explaining the rules of their card game.
“It’s going well. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind sharing your first-year revision notes.”
“Oh, sure! You know, these idiots nearly threw them in the fireplace last year…”
They engaged in small talk and cards for so long that it was past sunset by the time the fifth round had been dealt. Sirius and Regulus were seated side by side, each carefully considering their hand. Instead of going down to dinner, Potter had produced a whole box of chocolate frogs with a flourish, insisting that their game could not be stopped by something as simple as proper nutrition.
“This will have to be my last hand,” Regulus said reluctantly as the corner of the card pile began smoking. Pettigrew, who had just placed the previous card, sighed in relief when the deck failed to explode. “It’s getting late.”
“Oh, tosh!” Potter clicked his tongue, calculating his next move with his finger. “Stay another round! We’re having fun!”
“I have to get back to my dorm—”
“You’re staying the night,” Sirius informed him without a second of hesitation, placing a card down on the table.
Regulus stared. “What? No, Sirius. I have to go back to the dungeons.”
The look that received let Regulus know exactly where this conversation was heading.
Oh no.
“You are staying here tonight.”
Sirius’s temper was something of a legend within the Black family. He didn’t succumb to it often, but when he did, it usually had something to do with Regulus.
Regulus was going to see Evan Rosier?
Tantrum.
Regulus wasn’t allowed to come on their day trip to Gringotts?
Tantrum.
Regulus wanted to go to bed before Sirius was done playing?
Tantrum.
He’d gotten much better about not flying off the handle in recent years, but that didn’t mean he didn’t remember how.
“I don’t have any of my things,” Regulus tried. “I need my books and clothes and—“
“Ugh! Will you just do what I say, Regulus!?”
Sirius wasn’t messing around when he used his actual name, and that said more about his state of mind than anything else. His brother was not handling the reminder of what happened over summer well, unwilling to admit it as he was, and the only way he was going to be able to cope was to have Regulus close at hand for at least the next few hours.
Regulus sighed, resigned to his fate. “I need to tell my friends, then.”
“Send them an owl.”
“With what owl!?”
“Regulus!” Sirius snapped, glaring up from his cards.
“Merlin, lay off him!” Potter exclaimed, startled.
Unlike the other boys in the room, Regulus understood why Sirius was acting this way. One did not forget their brother dying in their arms in a hurry, after all. To his three friends, however, Regulus knew that Sirius must look quite mad at the moment. And as familiar with Sirius’s outbursts as he was, Regulus sensed they were quickly coming to the end of his brother’s patience for talking.
“It’s fine,” Regulus assured the room at large. Lupin and Pettigrew were equally wide-eyed at the strange interaction. “I’ll stay.”
“No!” Potter pointed at Sirius. He was dressed in bold Gryffindor pajamas and looked thoroughly unqualified to do battle with Regulus’s angry older brother. “What’s your problem? If Reg wants to leave, he can. He can do whatever—“
“WILL YOU STOP!?” Sirius interrupted, slamming his hand of cards down agitatedly. “Leave him alone! He’s not your little brother, James. He’s mine. Get the fuck over it already!”
The entire room seemed to hold its breath. Regulus didn’t know what to say or where to look, holding himself uncomfortably still as Potter turned completely red in the silence.
“I didn’t say he was my little brother!”
“I know what you said! I’m sick of watching you try to suck up to him!”
“I do not suck up!”
“Oh yeah?” Sirius laughed unpleasantly, tossing his cards down. His fingers balled into fists. “Like when you sent him that stupid scarf for Yule? Or sent me to prank Ravenclaw by myself so you could hang around the library to talk to him? What am I supposed to think? What else could you possibly want with him!?”
“You’re not even nice to him all the time!” Potter snapped back, adjusting his glasses in front of his flashing eyes. “Some days it’s like you don’t even want him, Sirius! But I do! I’ve been begging for a little sibling my whole life!”
“That doesn’t mean you can have mine!”
A tense moment of evaluation fell.
“Okay,” Lupin spoke up slowly, raising his hands in placation. “Okay, let’s everyone relax. I think it’s time to call the game and go to bed.”
“I think so too,” Pettigrew concurred, looking uncomfortable.
But Sirius wasn’t done. “Don’t act like you know anything about what it takes to be a big brother. You think it’s all just messing about and having a good time, but you have no idea.”
Potter just made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, pushing himself to his feet. He was still red-faced, but his eyes were glassy now. “You’re an asshole, Sirius,” he told him, yanking his glasses off to swipe at his face before striding from the room, slamming the door behind him.
Immediately, Lupin and Pettigrew fixed Sirius with a judging gaze.
“You didn’t have to say those things,” Lupin pointed out disapprovingly. “You know how James is about being an only child.”
“He pushed too hard. He should have quit while he was ahead and he didn’t!”
“Now we’re just starting a new argument,” Lupin rolled his eyes.
“Should I go?” Regulus asked. “I can go—“
“No!” Sirius snapped.
“No, it’s fine,” Lupin agreed at the same time. “Let’s just all go to bed. And hope James comes back… eventually.”
Apparently unwilling to even tolerate the discussion of him, Sirius immediately stalked towards his bed. Regulus followed uncertainly, clasping his hands tightly together. For a few minutes, he watched Sirius dig out a spare set of nightclothes for him, tossing items from his dresser haphazardly onto his bed and the floor.
“I’m not wearing that!” Regulus objected as his brother shoved a Gryffindor-themed shirt and sleeping pants at him.
“What’s wrong with them?”
“I’d say you’re playing stupid, but I doubt you’re playing.”
That wrenched a laugh from Sirius’s mouth. “You’re so dramatic. They’re just pajamas.”
“Good. You wear them then.”
Sirius made a show of rolling his eyes but did eventually surface with a familiar Puddlemere United shirt.
“Better?”
“No. That team placed fifth in the league last year. Pathetic.”
Sirius balled it up and pelted it at his head, laughing loudly.
“Oi! Some of us are trying to sleep!” Pettigrew called out from within his curtains.
“Sorry!” Sirius answered, pressing his palm over Regulus’s mouth as though to silence him. “Little brothers are a nightmare, honestly. They never shut up. Ow,” he added as Regulus bit him, albeit not hard.
It was getting late, so the brothers piled into Sirius’s bed. They worked together to shut the heavy velvet curtains and jostled each other for space as they settled into comfortable positions to await sleep.
“…What do you think it was?” Regulus whispered when he had been silent for a while.
Sirius paused in the dark. “I dunno. A wraith, maybe?” He turned on his side to squint at Regulus in the dark. “Wraiths form when a really unfair death happens.”
Regulus shuddered at the implication. “But I’m not dead.”
“But you were, Reggie.” Sirius half-sat to stare at him in the dim light. “You were dead. Your heart stopped and everything. Your death year showed up on the family tapestry and everything.”
Regulus frowned, fidgeting with a stray thread on Sirius’s bedspread.
“Don’t you remember that?”
He shook his head slowly. “I remember a lake. That’s it.”
“A lake? Like Cashmere Lake?” Sirius asked, naming one of the five magical counties in the country.
Regulus shrugged, still plucking at the string. “It was just a lake, Sirius. I don’t know… But… it was really big, and dark. I think it was in a cave.”
Now that he thought about it, stray pieces of dreams he’d had since that night but had then forgotten about floated to the surface of his mind. Little details that he hadn’t realized he knew popped up like little exclamation points, filling in scant details. Things like a ghostly green light that called to him from far offshore in the middle of the water, or how sharp the shards of rock along the shoreline felt even with shoes on.
“All I know is that I never want to go there. It’s…” He floundered for words to describe the way that even the contemplation of the place made him feel. “It’s a really bad place.”
Sirius didn’t push for more information, but Regulus could feel his stare as they settled in to sleep.
“I hate her,” Sirius said eventually into the darkness. Regulus didn’t have to ask to know who he meant. “I hate her so much that it feels like I could kill her for the things she’s done to you; to us.”
Regulus didn't have an answer but scooted closer to his brother in solidarity. “Sirius…”
“I’m going to do everything I can to protect you from her, Reggie.”
“You already do.”
“Not enough. It’s never enough.”
“It is enough, Sirius. It is.”
He didn’t think his brother believed him, turning over to curl up the opposite way. “Just… go to sleep, kid. It’s late.”
Sighing, Regulus frowned at the back of Sirius’s head. “Not everything is all on you, you know.”
Sirius didn’t answer.
Regulus doubted it was because he hadn’t heard.
May
The next morning, Regulus woke up shivering.
At first, he thought he’d had another bad dream about the dark lake, but he soon came to realize that his brother had stolen all the blankets, wrapping himself in them like he was trying to build a cocoon.
Annoyed, Regulus considered holding Sirius’s nose closed until he woke up, but decided against it in favor of using the restroom. When he managed to stumble out, he cast a quick tempus spell to determine the time.
Saturday May 1, 1973. 6:35:32 AM.
It was early, which was probably a good thing. All four of the second year Gryffindors had their bed curtains drawn shut—including Potter, who had apparently made it back—and it was perfectly quiet in their room. He could sneak out now before Sirius woke up and refused to let him leave. Regulus considered his good works in Gryffindor tower to be done and he really needed to tell his friends that he was still alive.
He changed back into his clothes from yesterday, folding his borrowed ones into the hamper nearby, and wrote a small note explaining himself to his brother. Regulus then amused himself by casting a mild sticking charm and attaching it to the top of Sirius’s head where a sliver of forehead was showing.
“Heading out?”
Regulus jumped back from the door just as he reached for it to exit, spinning around to see that Lupin had just slid out from his curtains, sandy hair rumpled and blinking blearily.
“My friends will wonder where I’ve gone,” Regulus explained at a low volume to avoid waking anyone.
Lupin nodded, holding up a hand. “Wait one minute.”
Regulus watched him shuffle over to his nightstand and pick up a bound-up folder thick with papers that seemed to be waiting there. He accepted it when Lupin handed it to him with a puzzled frown until he read the cover. Final Review: Year 1, which was written neatly there, overlapped a stain in the shape of a ring, as though a drink had been left on top of it.
“I’ll need it back afterwards.”
“Thank you,” Regulus whispered, wide-eyed at the thoroughness of the collection. He’d been hoping for a page or two at best, but it seemed like Lupin really was the organization brain of this operation after all.
“Thanks for staying.”
The reference to last night’s spat made Regulus look over at the bed concealing Potter.
“They’ll be fine,” Lupin assured him, as though reading his mind. “Friends fight, then they get over it.”
Regulus would just have to trust that. A short way away through the curtains he’d closed behind him, Sirius shifted in his sleep—punctuated by the crinkling sound of parchment from the note Regulus had taped to him.
“Thanks,” he repeated, backing away to reach for the door once more.
This time, Lupin didn’t stop him.
Regulus cleared the darkened Slytherin boys’ dorm threshold as quietly as possible, shutting the door at a careful, glacial pace. It was too early for any of his friends to be up and, sure enough, Barty and Evan’s bed curtains were closed. Regulus could barely see, dark as it was, and he nearly tripped on a cloak that had been left on the floor. He navigated to his bed, toed off his shoes, and crept into it.
Easy.
It would have worked, too, but someone was already in his bed.
Dorcas gave a shriek of surprise as Regulus landed on her arm, sitting bolt upright out of a dead sleep. Elsewhere in the dorm, twin noises of confusion echoed from the directions of Barty’s and Evan’s beds.
“Reg, what the fuck!?” Dorcas finally got out as soon as she’d figured out who he was.
“What are you doing in my bed?” he asked, nonplussed, as she struggled out from under a blanket.
“Excuse me, we’re conducting the interrogation around here!” Barty interrupted, having dragged himself from his own bed to come glare at Regulus, Evan on his heels. “Where the fuck have you been!?”
All three of them looked exhausted, which filled Regulus with guilt. He’d known that his friends would worry about him, but it looked like they’d barely slept.
“With my brother in Gryffindor Tower. Sorry,” he added when all three of them groaned. “I wanted to get a message to you, but I didn’t have an owl. Not that they can really get to the dungeon anyway…”
“And you couldn’t have just come to tell us that?” Evan asked disapprovingly.
Regulus thought back to the state of his brother and how wired he’d been. “Not really. It was sort of a… family crisis.”
They all looked a touch less furious on hearing that.
“I’m fine,” he added quickly. “It wasn’t my crisis.”
“Well,” Dorcas cleared her throat, rubbing her eyes. “We definitely need some kind of system for this sort of thing because I, for one, thought you fucking died.”
A new worry popped into Regulus’s head. “Did you tell Slughorn?” It would have been fair if they had, but Regulus had a feeling he wasn’t actually allowed in the Gryffindor dorms.
“Of course not! That would be telling!”
“We aren’t snitches. We didn’t want to accidentally sell you out.”
“We weren’t sure what to do,” Evan summarized pointedly, “since you didn’t exactly leave instructions. We were going to go to Slughorn if you failed to show up by breakfast.”
“Yeah, we should figure something out.”
Barty just yawned at him, stretching. “I’m going back to bed. We were up till two in the morning waiting on you, you bugger.”
“I brought Lupin’s first year exams notes,” Regulus offered, holding up the folder.
“Good for you,” Dorcas groused, beginning to pull on her shoes. “I’ll see you guys later.”
“Where are you going?”
“To sleep!”
Regulus frowned, puzzled. “Weren’t you doing that here? Why are you leaving?”
“I assume you want your bed back.”
“Two people will fit,” Regulus shrugged. “I slept over with Sirius last night.”
Barty and Dorcas both looked thrown.
“That’s different,” Dorcas pointed out slowly. “You get that that’s different, right? He’s your brother.”
Regulus looked to Evan for some kind of hint, but Evan looked like he didn’t understand the problem either. Maybe Dorcas snored and was embarrassed? Or had something against sleepovers?
“Look,” Regulus decided, losing energy for this conversation as he pulled off his Slytherin cloak. “You can do whatever you want, Dorcas. I’m going to sleep a few more hours. Stay or don’t stay.”
Evan trudged back to bed without another word, sighing as he climbed in. He didn’t close the curtains this time though, preferring to watch Dorcas’s weird internal struggle as he lay on his side.
Regulus couldn’t understand why she looked so conflicted, but left her to it as he settled under his covers, yawning. He wasn’t going to tell her what to do.
Finally, Dorcas looked over at Barty, who was still standing there. “I mean, is that… okay?”
Okay? Why wouldn’t it be okay?
Hadn’t Regulus just said he didn’t mind?
Barty alone seemed to follow along with her uncertainty, because he gave a jumpy shrug. “It’s up to you. It’s just innocent though, Dorcas. I know it’s not exactly done, but you should be allowed to sleepover with friends if you want. Do you want to?”
“I’ve never had a sleepover,” she said contemplatively. “...Yes, I want one. But I don’t want to get in trouble. So maybe we just don’t talk about it. Just in case.”
“Just in case,” Barty agreed.
“What the hell are you two on about?” Evan muttered, shoving his pillow over his face. “Just go to bed already.”
Regulus was already half-asleep when Dorcas tentatively slid under the covers next to him. At first, she stayed stiff and as far away from him as possible, which was very different from Sirius, who was like a starfish taking up as much room as humanly possible. Regulus stayed where he was, so as not to make her uncomfortable, and only vaguely noticed when Dorcas scooted a few inches towards him after a while.
He eased in and out of sleep several times over the following two hours, registering that Dorcas had crept slightly further towards the center of the bed each time. During one of his last moments of twilight consciousness, he found that his friend had crossed from the middle of the bed well into his space, curling up next to him with her forehead resting against his back.
Good thing that she hasn’t stolen all the bedding like bloody Sirius, Regulus thought distantly, burrowing further into his pillow.
He settled back to sleep once more.
Notes:
Next time:
Final exams bring the year to a close and for the first time, Regulus realizes what it means when someone has a crush.
Chapter 19: The End of First Year
Summary:
This time:
Final exams bring the year to a close and for the first time, Regulus learns what it means to fancy someone.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The final exam schedule had been wallpapered across the Slytherin common room notice board overnight. Regulus saw a crowd of students grouped around it as soon as he walked downstairs later that morning, craning their necks to look over each other’s shoulders.
It made him want to turn around and go straight back to bed.
“I can’t read that,” Barty grumbled as Evan tried to shove a copy of it in his face at breakfast twenty minutes later. “I’m blind. And also, I don’t want to.”
“We need to plan for this! Stop trying to avoid it, Crouch!”
“The History exam is first up, on Friday, June 5th,” Regulus said very loudly when Barty tried to plug his ears with his fingers. “And Astronomy is that night.”
“That sounds like a problem for future Barty.”
“Nice try, you goon,” Dorcas replied, sliding into her usual seat next to him. She had split away from the group as they exited the boys’ dorm to return to her own for a quick shower and change of clothes. She and Barty were both acting quite normal, considering the cryptic conversation they’d had a few hours ago. “We should go over Lupin’s notes and make outlines after breakfast.”
“Ugh.”
They didn’t feel like being that quiet, so instead of the library, the group found a place in the courtyard to settle in with their study supplies under the May sun. The notes that Lupin had given Regulus that morning were indeed helpful. They were pleased to find that the Gryffindor had even written a few comments after each exam to highlight the most relevant topics that had surfaced. They duplicated the folder four times with a copying spell so each of them had one and added clusters of notes about what they thought their professors had emphasized in class.
It was almost like a picnic, sitting there on the patchwork of Slytherin robes they’d spread over the grass, chatting and exchanging silly comments about the broom races going on a little way away high up in the air. The quidditch pitch was occupied by a pickup game, so a few students had come together over the grassy grounds to take advantage of the warm spring weather.
“I think the Nimbus series is better than the Cleansweep,” Barty tried to convince Dorcas and Regulus as Evan ignored them in favor of opening a chocolate frog. “I’m going to ask for the Nimbus 360 for my birthday this year.”
“Subpar.”
“Why would you do that to yourself?” Dorcas asked, barely glancing up. “You’re complete garbage, Crouch, but that doesn’t mean you deserve an awful broom.”
“Fuck you guys.”
Dorcas returned a very rude gesture at him, making the other first years laugh. Poor Dorcas had very literally drawn the short straw when it came to creating study guides by picking the Defense class. Because the professor seemed to change every year, Lupin’s folder would only be a jumping off point. She was combing through her notes to figure out what might be different about the exam this year and frequently reminded them all how much harder she was working than them.
“Well, that’s not very nice.”
The four of them looked up to find that Sirius had snuck up on them, holding two brooms behind his back and wearing a winning grin.
“I’m studying, Sirius!” Regulus complained immediately before his brother had the chance to try and filch him from his friends.
“Hey, I paid you in information!”
“Lupin paid me in information. So if he wants to go flying together, he can come over here.”
“We share favors. If you owe one to Remus, you actually owe one to all of us.”
“So if you owe Reg, does that mean you owe us all?” Barty smirked.
“Not bloody likely.” Sirius brought the brooms around to the front of him to show off. “I borrowed James’s broom for you. He and the lads are studying in the library, so you get to entertain me.”
“Thanks but no thanks,” Regulus drawled, somewhat surprised by the easy way Sirius mentioned Potter. Last night it had seemed like his brother was ready to hold one of his infamous grudges for all of time, but apparently Lupin’s guess for their reconciliation had been accurate.
“C’mon. Thirty minutes,” Sirius bartered.
“Twenty.”
“Twenty-five.”
“Twenty.”
“Twenty-four.”
“Twenty.”
“Deal!” He tossed the broom down, making Regulus scramble to catch it. He was already soaring upward before his younger brother could reprimand him.
Regulus stood carefully, making sure not to bend the bristles of the Skyline 5. It was a much darker chestnut color than either his or Sirius’s Cleansweep brooms with a red decorative ribbon tied tightly to the back of its handle. The only other broom Regulus had ridden besides his current one was his children’s toy broom, so he took a few seconds to investigate the seat of it and how the twigs came together.
“Are you getting on or are you just going to look at it?”
His friends were all watching him expectantly, which made him realize that none of them had actually seen him fly before.
The thought made him a bit self-conscious.
Despite this, kicking off into the air was incredibly freeing. He jetted up in a spiral towards his brother, who was tossing a small silver ball from hand to hand with a devilish grin.
“What’s that?” Regulus asked breathlessly as he arrived at Sirius’s side, swiping a stray curl from his eyes.
The Gryffindor caught it once more, holding it out between his thumb and forefinger for inspection. He was wearing a silver bracelet Regulus had never seen before. “A snitchlet. If the ball gets over thirty feet from its bracelet, it turns around and comes back to the wearer. It’s great for playing catch.”
“Catch?”
“Well, yeah. Have you ever tried to catch anything on a broom before?”
Regulus thought back to his disastrous first attempt at catching the coin Sirius threw for him last summer. From his brother’s expression, he could tell Sirius was thinking of it too.
“Successfully,” Sirius clarified.
“No.”
“Then there you go. How are you going to make seeker if you can’t do that? It’s not all about seeing the snitch, Reggie. You have to actually catch it.”
That seemed like a fair enough assessment. Regulus backed up slightly at Sirius’s instruction, waiting gamely for his brother to throw him the snitch-sized ball.
“I’ll start off easy,” Sirius said graciously.
Stretching his arm back, he threw the snitchlet in an arc towards Regulus, who couldn’t even argue that it had been done in any sort of unfair way. His silver eyes tracked the ball with precision, following its path with ease. He reached out with one hand to try and grab it, but was concentrating so hard on the snitchlet that he forgot to also move his broom.
The ball sailed past him easily, falling towards the ground.
“What was that?” Sirius goaded as they waited for it to reroute back to his outstretched hand.
Regulus scowled at him without answering.
They tried again, and again after that.
Each time, Regulus had no problem following the snitchlet’s trajectory. His eyesight never failed him even as Sirius moved back, increasing their distance. He slowly became more comfortable moving his broom without looking down to watch himself do it, and with that came a few catches that couldn’t ever be described as graceful.
“That’s better!” Sirius called with his latest fumbling catch. “Good job, kid!”
He flushed pink, pleased at the praise.
“But,” Sirius continued, flying forward to hover next to him, “you’ve got to loosen up your grip. Relax a bit. It’s a broom, not a hippogriff. It’s not going to buck you off."
"It might," Regulus muttered darkly. "Considering it’s Potter’s broom, I wouldn’t be surprised if it had some stupid jinx—”
“Oh!” Sirius interrupted, distracted. He rolled his broom in excitement before righting himself once more, grinning. “Oh! That’s what we should do! Reggie, over the summer, let’s go to James’s and practice flying all together!”
Regulus stared.
He couldn’t believe it. When was Sirius going to make up his mind? Did he want his little brother and his best friend to get along or didn’t he? It didn’t even seem like Sirius knew himself. It was as though he wanted them to bond, but not too much; to spend time together, but only when Sirius was present.
This wasn’t entirely unusual behavior for his older brother, but for the first time, Regulus found it genuinely irritating.
They worked on Regulus’s flying skills for a good half-hour longer than Regulus had originally meant to, but by the end of it, Sirius had declared him to be a fast learner.
“Don’t worry about the fancy tricks and games that other people might play during tryouts,” Sirius told him as a final warning when they were finished. “Get the snitch and play to your strengths. We’ve got time to practice. You’re doing great, kid.”
That didn’t stop him from feeling a bit embarrassed by his lackluster catches after Sirius flew off and he landed amongst his friends, who were almost aggressively supportive.
“That was really good, Reg!” Dorcas said loudly as soon as he had his feet under him.
“Does this mean you’ll come practice with us?” Barty demanded.
There was a short pause during which it looked like Evan might speak. When he didn’t, Regulus opened his mouth to answer, only for Dorcas and Barty to both kick Evan pointedly in the shin.
“I liked the part where you were on a broom in the air,” Evan finally told him. “It was my favorite part.”
“For Merlin’s sake, Rosier!”
“Yes, I’ll practice with you,” Regulus replied to the original question. “Within reason. Not in five below weather. You were both mad for doing that.”
“It was not that cold!”
“You’re so dramatic, Black!”
They squabbled for a little while longer before Regulus realized he was still holding Potter’s broom. Looking around, he noticed that Sirius had fucked right off in his distractable way, probably not even recalling that he’d ditched his best friend’s most prized possession. He was nowhere to be seen, which made Regulus sigh upon realizing that he’d have to return it himself somehow.
“You could probably just leave it here,” Dorcas suggested unhelpfully. “A bowtruckle might steal it for its nest.”
“That’s a terrible suggestion.”
“Yes, but it’s also an entertaining one.” Barty grinned. “Imagine Potter having to wrestle a bowtruckle for his broom back. It’d be brilliant.”
Sensing that his friends were more interested in antagonizing than assisting, Regulus assured them he’d be back shortly. He made his way towards the library where Sirius had mentioned his friends were studying, only to find Lupin sitting alone at one of the tables. He was armed with a stack of five reference texts and a tired expression.
“You look shattered,” Regulus informed him bluntly, watching the older boy slowly look up from a paragraph about repelling charms.
Bloody hell, if second year exams are that hard, I’ll never make it to O.W.L levels.
“Thanks,” Lupin said sourly, which was also very unusual. Lupin had the mildest manner of anyone Regulus had ever met.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing. Sirius isn’t here. He went to find you ages ago.”
“I know. He interrupted my studying to make me entertain him.” Regulus leaned the broom against the desk. “Is Potter coming back?”
“Yes, he and Peter went to get snacks.”
Regulus hummed, watching Lupin eventually get back to his reading in silence.
As much as he tried to mind his own business, it was impossible for Regulus to ignore the fact that Lupin was clearly not okay. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the bags under his eyes deep shades of purple and red. It went on like that for a few seconds before Regulus finally felt compelled to say something.
"Are you alright?"
Lupin didn’t respond immediately, his quill still scratching across the parchment as he finished the sentence he’d been working on. "…What?"
"You look terrible."
"Terrible? That’s a bit judgmental. I thought I was at least pulling off 'slightly exhausted.'"
"You’re pulling off 'probably injured,'" Regulus shot back.
Lupin gave a tired smile and looked up, the contrast between his pale face and the dark fabric of his patched-up school robes only making his condition more obvious. "It’s just been a few late nights recently."
"Late? What are you talking about? We all went to bed at 9:00 last night!"
Lupin’s expression faltered, as though he had forgotten that Regulus had, in fact, spent the night in his dorm. “Oh.” He paused. "I’ll be better soon,” he said vaguely, glancing down at his calendar for the month of May.
Regulus stared at him for a moment, then scoffed. "Fine. Be cryptic. Just don’t keel over before you finish that essay—it’d be a shame to waste all that effort."
Potter and Pettigrew put an end to their conversation by appearing with a paper bag stuffed with jelly-filled pastries, smuggled past the suspicious eyes of the middle-aged librarian, Madam Pince. Coming up behind them was a girl with fiery red hair that Regulus recalled as a second year Gryffindor.
“Hi, Lily,” Lupin greeted her as she said his name while passing by.
“Evans,” Regulus said politely. It was easy enough to remember since it was basically Evan’s name too.
Evans didn’t speak for a moment, looking at him with a strangely dark expression. “Black,” she finally replied with a certain degree of coolness that he really didn’t think he deserved.
“Lily!” Potter grinned, turning to face her as she walked around him. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly out of habit. “How are you? How’s it going? Do you want to sit with us?”
“Bugger off, Potter,” she replied, which Regulus generally agreed with, but thought might be a bit undeserved in this instance.
“What happened?” Lupin asked when Evans was out of earshot.
“He called her ‘carrots’ this morning,” Pettigrew revealed, dumping his haul in the center of the table.
“It was a joke!”
“Well, she didn’t laugh, so it wasn’t a very good one.”
Potter sighed but paused upon catching sight of the broom in Regulus’s hands.
“Huh. Is that my broom?”
“Yes, Sirius said he borrowed it from you.”
“Stole it, more like.” Potter rolled his eyes, accepting it back. Their hands brushed during the transaction, making Regulus jump. Following his brother’s tantrum in the dorms during which he accused Potter of trying to replace him, Regulus didn’t know quite how to act. In contrast, it seemed like the Gryffindors had decided to pretend nothing had ever happened.
“Do you want to sit?” Potter asked, clearly trying to be casual about it.
“No, that’s okay. I’d better get back to my friends.”
Potter looked disappointed by his answer, which for some reason prompted him to give another.
“…But good luck on your exams and all.”
Potter beamed at him.
It felt… nice.
June
Their first final exam, History of Magic, dawned at 8:00 sharp the morning of June 5th.
Regulus queued up for it in the hallway outside feeling pretty confident about his chances. Evan had implemented a strict study schedule that had nearly moved Barty to violence on several occasions, but it was undeniably effective.
“I can’t wait for this to be over,” Barty muttered to him as they began filing into the room.
A small clearing of a throat made the two of them look over at Professor Binns’s proctor, Madame Merryweather: a middle-aged witch who always presided over the class during major exams. The school didn’t trust the ghost professor to notice if even the most obvious cheating methods were used, but Merryweather was a strict presence that discouraged nonsense.
“Take your seats in silence, please.”
The room had been magically enlarged and set up in neat rows this time, forming a perfect grid for all the first years from all four houses to take their exams together. Each desk had a piece of parchment with a name written on it, assigning every student to a particular place by virtue of their last name.
Crouch, Bartemius Junior was three seats behind Black, Regulus and, after wishing each other luck, Evan and Dorcas were both forced to peel off from the group in order to locate their desks.
Otto Bagman sat directly in front of Regulus, looking frantic and unconfident as he collapsed nervously into his chair. Regulus could tell the constant fidgeting was going to drive him insane and resisted the urge to kick the back of the boy’s seat in warning. Christopher Burke, a Ravenclaw, arrived shortly thereafter to slide into the seat just behind Regulus.
“Now, young witches and wizards, please settle into your seats without speaking to one another. Welcome to your first final exam for History of Magic.” Merryweather said, prowling down the aisle. “Is everyone in the right place? …Very good.”
“Hill, Grove, Lake, Loch, Wood,” Bagman was muttering manically nearby as though chanting away evil spirits. “Hill, Grove, Lake, Loch, Wood–”
A parchment packet winked into existence on each of their desks, the cover page showing their name and the subject title. A few people took a bracing breath around him, but Regulus clenched his jaw determinedly.
“Please recall that this is individual work. There will be no… collaboration. You have two hours to complete your exam, with your time starting now. Good luck.”
Regulus opened his test booklet and immediately heard Bagman give a victorious little laugh.
“Mister Bagman!”
“Sorry, Madame!”
The first question of the final exam included a blank map outlining the five completely magical counties of Britain and instructions that Regulus fill it in with the names of each one. Coincidentally, the answer to this was what Bagman had been reciting, though Regulus had known it long before.
Hill, Grove, Lake, Loch, Wood.
The magical areas of Britain were arranged like a flower with four petals.
Morgana Hill, where Regulus lived, was at the very center of the arrangement. That was where families with old money lived and well-established bloodlines kept their manors. Black Castle, Rosier Castle, Malfoy Manor, and Grimmauld Place were all located there.
In the space directly north of the Hill was Witcher’s Grove, which was also upper crust but full of new money. Dorcas lived there at Meadowes Keep and Sirius had told him that Potter Manor was also built there.
Regulus wrote that in.
South of the Hill lay Cashmere Lake, where Crouch Hall was, and west of the Hill was Mermaid Loch, which happened to be where his Aunt Druella and Uncle Cygnus lived with his cousins, Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa. While Regulus knew that the Loch was known for its beautiful coastal estates, the Lake boasted a large concentration of light families that his parents would sneer at. They were both, however, respectably affluent areas.
Tulgey Wood, on the other hand, lay east of the Hill and served a… certain class of wixen. The Weasley family had lived there for generations, which was all that one needed to know about the place.
An hour later, Regulus felt that he was doing quite well. Thanks to Evan’s revisions, nothing had truly stumped him–though he’d taken care to pause and think carefully when a question about the Halibor Experiments popped up. There was no way he would be caught off guard by that topic twice!
He was completely focused on the significant dates of Hogwarts’ founders when his wand began to try to get his attention from his pocket. Most of the time, Regulus enjoyed the benefits extra insight granted him, but there were moments like this one when he was concentrating on something important and wasn’t interested in the goings-on of the world around him.
But his wand insisted, so he complied.
Very subtly, Regulus yawned, squinting his eyes with it so he could take a limited look around his workspace.
At first, nothing seemed amiss. The students around him were in various stages of either scratching answers into their parchment or gripping their hair with their elbows propped up on their desks, supporting their silent meltdown. Then, two seats in front of him and to the right, he noticed something odd.
Greta Gibbly was crossing her knees in a most unladylike way, the bottom of her shoe on display to her left. On the sole of it in dark, nearly unnoticeable writing, read the question: “What was Merlin’s wand made of?”
If there was one thing he and his brother were fatally attracted to, it was useless gossip and scandal that had nothing to do with them. Sirius would deny the allegation with his dying breath, but Regulus at least knew what he was about. He also privately thought he’d never know as many things that he wasn’t supposed to know if Sirius didn’t decide he needed to share drama on a regular basis.
So of course, Regulus slowed down his writing, carefully watching from the corner of his eye for someone to answer.
Two seats in front of him, Ashford Anderson crossed his knees just as Gibbly had, exposing the underside of his shoe to show the reply: “Elder wood and dragon scale. Wand-given boost: life and death.”
They did this perhaps seven more times, though Regulus didn’t know if they’d also been at this before his wand had pointed it out. When Regulus finished his exam fifteen minutes later, he didn’t leave right away. By all measures, he was the first one done, so it wasn’t like he didn’t have the time to watch the potential show that would come from the two getting caught.
While the first covert question was answered correctly, some of the others weren’t.
Imagine risking your Hogwarts career just for your stupid friend to give you the wrong answer anyway.
By some miracle, however, the Hufflepuffs didn’t get caught. Regulus waited impatiently a further ten minutes, but by then, people were starting to file out of the room, dropping their completed tests off at the front in various states of distress. By the time Evan stood up on the other side of the room, Regulus had lost interest in his game and stood as well. Dorcas seemed like she’d been waiting for one of them to finish because she jumped to her feet, ditched the exam packet on Madame Merryweather’s desk, and all but pranced out of the room.
“That was easy!” she crowed as soon as the three of them cleared the door, earning dark looks from two Gryffindors that were also leaving. She ignored them. “What did you put for the date Hogwarts was founded?”
“975,” Regulus and Evan said together.
Dorcas pumped her arm in reply. “Me too.”
They stood around waiting for Barty, discussing the exam in low tones and looking satisfied when they collectively agreed on answers. When Barty emerged a short while later, his blond hair was a mess from where he’d run his hand through it several times.
“What took you so long?” Dorcas asked judgmentally.
Barty grunted. “Couldn’t remember the year old Gunhilda invented the Dragon Pox vaccine.”
“1601.”
“1601.”
“1610.”
Evan, Regulus, and Dorcas all answered immediately, pausing afterward upon realizing the problem.
“Fuck,” Dorcas concluded.
“I said 1610 too,” Barty revealed.
Dorcas, who had previously been alone in stating that answer, looked relieved. “Okay, good. I’m in with a chance at least.”
Barty took a more negative outlook as they headed towards the dorms for a nap to prepare for their midnight Astronomy exam. “I dunno, mate. Evan and Reg are usually right. This isn’t looking good.”
Dorcas frowned. “Yeah.” A few seconds later, she grinned. “Remember when they fail that quiz in March?”
The two laughed very hard at that, dodging Regulus and Evan’s outraged attempts to throw them over the staircase railing.
“It wasn’t that funny!”
“We’re still pissed about that, you buggers!”
On their way downstairs, they encountered Sirius and his friends emerging from a classroom just off the entrance hall. Regulus had memorized the second years’ exam schedule along with his own and knew that his brother had just been in his Herbology theory exam.
“Hey, kid,” Sirius greeted him. He looked well enough, if tired, to Regulus’s assessing eye. “How was history?”
“We think we did well,” Regulus answered modestly, pleased that his brother had also taken the time to learn the first years’ schedule.
“Nice job, Reg!” Potter winked from Sirius’s right side, favoring him with a dazzling smile that made Regulus’s heart beat slightly faster.
“How was Herbology?” he asked after a moment.
“Great!” Pettigrew answered from the middle of their pack. He was brimming with more confidence than Regulus had ever seen in him. “There was a tricky question about venomous tentaculas on there but I think—“
“Save the recap for after tea,” Lupin interrupted with unusual brusqueness. While he had recovered just a few days after their conversation in the library a month previously, it seemed that Lupin’s good luck wasn’t to hold. He looked exhausted—much more so than any of the other three Gryffindors—and this made Regulus frown.
In general, Lupin held it together very well for someone forced to spend nearly every waking moment with Sirius, but he looked so ill so often that Regulus couldn’t help but wonder if there was something the matter with him. Some people simply had bad immune systems, Regulus knew, but Lupin just never could seem to catch a break. Every month he seemed taken by some new flu. It was particularly unfortunate that he’d come down with something during final exams, just a few weeks after recovering from his previous illness.
“Are you going to the Great Hall?” Sirius asked.
“No, we’re going to bed. It’s Astronomy tonight.”
“Astronomy,” Sirius echoed, scoffing. “You can do Astronomy in your sleep, Reggie. Come eat something with us.”
“He’s going to bed!” Barty snapped, reaching out to pull Regulus towards him by the robes. “Mind your own business, Black. We have to sleep before this test!”
Sirius scowled furiously, grabbing hold of Regulus’s sleeve. “Fuck off, Crouch! He needs to eat something first!”
“He can eat when he wakes up!”
“Don’t tell him what to do!”
“Ha! That’s rich, coming from you!”
“For Merlin’s sake!” Dorcas finally exclaimed, waving her arms. “You two are being ridiculous! He’s not a toy, so let go of him!”
For a moment, no one moved.
“Sirius,” Lupin warned when his brother didn’t immediately let go.
“Barty,” Evan hissed.
“…”
“…”
Regulus sighed in relief as the pulling stopped.
“Look, you two have got to be reasonable about this!” Evan told Barty and his brother. “You can’t keep putting Reg in the middle of this! You’re acting like children!”
“I am a children,” Barty pointed out.
“He’s my little brother!” Sirius scowled. It was a well-reheard line by now. “He’s supposed to go where I go!”
Lupin sighed at the ancient argument, opening his mouth to speak, but Sirius was already storming away in a dramatic huff.
“Good riddance!” Barty called after him. “Merlin, learn some bloody boundaries already—hey!”
“I’ll be right back,” Regulus promised, walking quickly after Sirius.
“Those two are the most codependent people I’ve ever—” he heard Evan start, and then Regulus was too far away to hear the rest.
Sirius had a slight head start, but thankfully seemed more interested in dramatics than speed because Regulus caught up to him relatively quickly by the doors to the great hall.
“Sirius! Sirius!”
His brother turned only a quarter of the way to look at him, but he did stop walking. He waited for Regulus to come closer, then opened the door. The sounds of lunchtime chatter came spilling out into the hallway.
“I don’t want to sit with the Gryffindors,” Regulus complained when Sirius dragged him that way.
“Wow, thanks for telling me,” Sirius answered, shoving him into place and hopping onto the bench next to him. He put his bag in the space between them and began digging through it. “So. How are final exams?”
“Fine. I think the worst one is over.”
“Hm, good.”
“What are you looking for?”
“Just something… here it is.” Unexpectedly, Sirius pulled out a textbook that would not look out of place on the Care of Magical Creatures book list. It was a red canvas-bound volume with the author’s name—Newt Scamander—printed in curling gold letters just beneath the title.
“Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them?” Regulus frowned, turning it over in his hands. “You’re not taking this class.”
Sirius flipped the book open to a dog-eared page. “Just look.”
The section that Sirius had turned to contained a black and white depiction of a figure distorted by darkness and shrouded in dusky smoke. It moved through a ghostly graveyard with a floating gracefulness that was unnatural to behold.
The Wraith:
Wraiths are vengeful spirits, unable to move on due to unresolved conflict or trauma. While wraiths are often linked to the concept of haunting, their behavior can range from passive observation to aggressive interaction with the living. They are typically seen in places where death or sorrow has occurred, such as graveyards, battlefields, or the scene of a murder.
“Oh.”
“I think it was a wraith,” Sirius said, not looking at him. “I don’t know what it was doing down there rather than at home in the dining room, but I really think it’s a wraith.”
Regulus’s gaze remained fixed to the illustration. “I’m not dead, Siri—“
“YES YOU WERE!”
Conversations around them paused at Sirius’s loud outburst. He was self-aware enough to stop there, however, and eventually their Gryffindor neighbors went back to their business.
“Just—just look.” Sirius flipped back through the pages, his lips slightly parted and teeth biting his tongue. When he found the section he’d been looking for, he turned it pointedly towards Regulus, who leaned closer to read.
The Thestral:
Inaccurately referred to as omens of misfortune and hostility, thestrals are a reptilian breed of winged horse seen only by wixen who have witnessed death—
Regulus paused.
“I see them,” Sirius told him quietly. “They pull the carriages from the train to the castle. I watched you die. I see them.”
...I died.
He turned to his brother, shaken, only to be further startled by how incredibly young Sirius looked.
Sometimes it was easy to forget that at the end of the day, Sirius was thirteen years old; just a kid too. He seemed so much older when he taught Regulus how to play catch with a snitchlet or when he made him eat something before bed.
It had occurred to him a few times before that maybe it wasn’t fair or right that Sirius took on so many parenting roles when it came to Regulus, and maybe it was selfish of Regulus to let him. But the fact remained that, when he was ill or hurt or had a bad dream, it wasn’t his parents he called out for; it was his barely-older brother, who came running every single time.
So even though it was a shock to hear the extent of how horribly he'd been attacked, Regulus couldn't bring himself to do anything but worry about Sirius and how he didn’t know what to do now—except scoot a little closer in solidarity.
Fortunately, that seemed to be all that Sirius wanted.
They ate in relative silence in the favorably bright Great Hall, not a single dark corner in sight for the twisted version of a half-dead Regulus to emerge from. At the end of it, Sirius was smiling slightly as Regulus tried to lift his mood with the very frustrating story of how their old tutor had effectively sabotaged his History of Magic quiz a few months ago, and the triumph of getting that same concept correct in their final exam today.
“I should have warned you about that,” Sirius admitted, laughing when he finished describing Evan’s look of outrage upon receiving their grades back months ago. “I had the same thing happen to me in first year. I was pissed.”
“It’s just maddening,” Regulus complained, taking a sip of juice. “And Dorcas and Barty thought it was just the funniest thing that they scored better than us, even while they were sick with the flu. They’re the worst.”
“Sounds about right. The lads called me a silly git for a week.”
“What makes you a silly git?” Potter asked, throwing himself into the bench beside Regulus, effectively trapping him between Sirius and himself. “I mean, other than everything.”
“Bugger off, Potter,” Sirius replied with far more cheer than he’d had in the entrance hall. “Nose out of my business.”
“There’s no ‘your’ business. Only ‘our’ business.”
“I’ve got to go,” Regulus interrupted the bickering that was sure to break out, squirming away from the table with difficulty.
“Oh, right,” Sirius agreed, finally placated enough to leave him be. “Good luck, kid. Astronomy will be the easy one. Believe me, I know.”
“You don’t know shit.”
“I’ll shove your face into this shepherd’s pie, James, I swear to Merlin I will!”
The train ride was nearly over as the soon-to-be second year Slytherins lounged around their compartment, bearing witness to a game of chess between Dorcas and Evan. It appeared to be about fifty percent skill-based and the rest a blatant game of threats, insults, and psychological warfare.
“And I just think it’s ridiculous,” she concluded a rant she’d been repeating for the last few days, unaware of Barty mimicking her behind her back by mouthing the well-rehearsed line in silent synchrony. She wouldn’t let go of the fact that their Defense professor had taken a point off for allegedly mispronouncing the Smokescreen Spell, despite her efforts yielding a thick curling cloud of black smog from her wand point.
“Yeah. I think magic would know better than him if you said it right or not.”
“Exactly!”
“I heard he’s leaving at the end of the year anyway,” Regulus revealed, attracting the attention of the other three.
“What?”
“Where did you hear that?” Evan paused next to him with his hand on his knight. “Actually, don’t answer. I already know. Your brother is the biggest gossip at this school.”
Barty hummed. “Well, I won’t miss his lessons, but at least Rookwood—you know, his teaching assistant?—as least he was fit. Made the lesson go faster.”
Regulus blinked, joining Dorcas and Evan in staring.
“What?”
“You think he’s fit?” Dorcas demanded, perplexed.
Regulus didn’t know what to say. Augustus Rookwood was a Ravenclaw sixth-year with dark treebark hair and deep heather eyes. He was the tall, athletic captain of the Hogwarts Dueling Club and had no shortage of classmates to accompany on weekend Hogsmead trips. He was, according to many of the upper years, very fanciable. But while Regulus knew all this objectively, as far as he knew, none of his friends had ever fancied him before.
This was entirely new territory.
Regulus quickly searched for Evan’s reaction, only to be overcome with relief upon find his neighbor looking equally stumped. Regulus was due to turn twelve in July, but Barty, Evan, and Dorcas had all completed this milestone in November, December, and February, respectively.
Is this just what you do when you’re twelve?
“That’s gross, Crouch!” Dorcas complained.
“You’ll understand when you’re older,” Barty told them all condescendingly. “Besides, you’re the one with a marriage already arranged. Aren’t you supposed to at least try to fancy your betrothed?”
“Betrothals aren’t a joke!” she snapped, clenching her firsts in her lap.
“Sure they are. Maybe you’d be less witchy about yours if you’d lighten up about it once in a while,” Barty replied, perhaps a bit cruelly.
“Fuck you, Crouch!”
As Barty and Dorcas began to bicker in earnest, Evan leaned closer to Regulus. “Is this normal? Are we supposed to start... liking people now?”
Regulus frowned, unsure if the question was rhetorical. “I don’t think so. At least, no one’s mentioned it.” He hesitated. “But what if... do you suppose he’s serious? About, you know, finding Rookwood—fit?”
Evan made a face. “Don’t even say it. That makes it worse.”
“I’m just trying to understand,” Regulus replied, slightly defensive. “I mean, what does that even mean? ‘Fit?’ Rookwood’s just... Rookwood. He gives us essays and assigns detentions.”
“Exactly. Nothing remotely ‘fit’ about that.” Evan shuddered. “I’d rather fancy—” He broke off, clearly struggling to come up with an acceptable alternative. Finally, he gestured vaguely. “I don’t know. Literally anyone else.”
Their hushed exchange was interrupted by Dorcas slamming her hands on the table. “You’re make this weird, Crouch!”
“No, you are!” Barty shot back. “At least I’m not pretending to be all above it like some people.” His gaze darted briefly to Regulus and Evan, clearly enjoying their discomfort.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Evan demanded, straightening up defensively.
Barty’s grin widened. “Oh, nothing. Just that some of us are maturing while others are still acting like they’re ten.”
“I’m eleven,” Regulus corrected flatly.
“Whatever. There’s no point discussing it now. None of you have any taste yet.”
“‘Taste?’” Dorcas repeated incredulously. “You think having a crush on Rookwood counts as taste? He barely speaks!”
“Rookwood has presence. He’s got that whole brooding thing going on.” Barty replied, unbothered. “You’re just deflecting because you’re mad about the whole betrothal thing.”
“You’re not betrothed, right?”
Regulus turned back to Evan, who had asked him. “No. I don’t think so, at least.” He hadn’t been as of last summer, but things could always change. "But they might not tell me right away. They’d probably decide first and then announce it when they thought it was… appropriate. Sirius would be matched first anyway, so it doesn’t really matter right now."
"But they will eventually," Dorcas pressed. "They’ll match you with someone whether you like it or not."
"Probably," Regulus said, shrugging a little too forcefully. "It’s not like I have a choice, is it?"
"But haven’t you thought about it? What kind of person you’d want to be with?"
"Why would I?" Regulus shot back, defensive. "What’s the point of thinking about something I can’t control?"
“I don’t know. It’s just something most people think about, that’s all.”
“Well, I don’t. And I’m not taking advice from people who think Rookwood is ‘fit.’"
Barty laughed, unbothered. "Fine. But whether it’s some pureblood prince or princess your mum picks out or someone you actually like, eventually you’re going to realize you feel a certain way about it."
The compartment door abruptly slid open. It was Sirius, standing in his Gryffindor robes and dragging his trunk behind him.
“Hey.”
“Hi,” Regulus replied quickly, half-standing and hoping fervently that his brother hadn’t overhead their conversation. Thankfully, the other Slytherins remained silent.
“Say goodbye to your friends and c’mere.”
Without further comment, his brother shoved the door shut once more.
“Here’s my address,” Barty said, changing the subject and pulling a self-inking quill from the outer pocket of his trunk. He chose one of the candy wrappers stacked on their makeshift table—a sugar quill—and jotted a few words onto it. “It’s the summer home, so don’t send letters to Crouch Keep because I’ll never see them.”
He handed it over to Regulus, who studied it.
Crouch Villa
Number 7 Seashell Lane
Mermaid Loch
Regulus had been to Mermaid Loch before. It was where Narcissa lived with his aunt, uncle, and other cousins. Regulus and Sirius had been warned firmly away from certain parts of the Loch where the open sea merpeople tended to live. Unlike the Black Lake merpeople on Hogwarts grounds, their oceanic cousins were much more aggressive.
“When are you lot going to Diagon Alley?” Regulus asked, pocketing it. “We should try to ‘accidentally’ run into each other there.”
“Try for July?” Dorcas suggested. “Mid-July?”
“Like I have any control over when my parents bring me,” Evan rolled his eyes.
“Can you just say you’ll fucking try, you drama queen?”
“Maybe your parents will let you come with Sirius and I.”
Evan considered that. “I bet they would, actually. They’re big social climbers. They probably think living next door to the future Lord and Lady Black is the best thing to ever happen to them. Your brother, on the other hand…”
Sirius seemed fine with Evan within the walls of Hogwarts—well, as fine as he could be with any of Regulus’s friends—but Regulus was pretty sure that was because Sirius physically couldn’t spend that much time with his brother. Their common rooms were on opposite levels of the castle, they were in different academic years, and Sirius had his own friend group to harass on a daily basis. However, when all those distractions were removed at Morgana Hill, Sirius would expect Regulus’s undivided attention. He had been very clearly unhappy whenever Regulus had gone to visit Evan for a few hours over Yule break.
Regulus could only imagine his reaction to being ordered to share his favorite part of summer holiday with Evan.
“Your brother has a more severe case of only child syndrome than any actual only child I’ve ever met,” Evan drawled.
“He just likes spending time together.”
“You’re basically his personal pet. Admit it: Black is the one with the leash, and you’re the one who’s always on it.”
A tapping noise on glass made him look over at the compartment door and notice Sirius waving for him to come out.
“Well.” Regulus cleared his throat, slipping on his Slytherin robes. “I’ll write to you lot.”
“You’d better,” Barty warned him, gripping him in a hug.
“Have a good summer, Reg,” Dorcas bade him, joining the embrace. “C’mon, Evan.”
Evan, who was watching the proceedings, rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Reg,” he pointed out, but leaned forward to pat Regulus’s arm supportively.
“Oh, right,” Dorcas frowned. “You two are such lucky bastards. Who am I supposed to hang out with? Crouch?”
“Oi!” Barry protested, shoving Dorcas out of Regulus’s arms. “You should be so lucky!”
“I’ve got to go,” Regulus reluctantly spoke over them when it looked like a wrestling match might break out. Merlin, what he wouldn’t give to stay and listen to Dorcas and Barty harass each other while munching snacks with Evan as they tried to find ways to make it worse.
“Bye Reg!”
“Ready?” Sirius asked when he’d come out into the corridor and let the door fall shut behind him. His arms were crossed over his chest and he already had that dark look about him that came up whenever he contemplated their last name. It faded just a little when he looked at Regulus though, and that made it bearable.
“Ready,” Regulus confirmed, following his big brother into the main thoroughfare of the Hogwarts Express.
And while the idea of walking towards their parents filled him with dread, Regulus knew he would still follow Sirius anywhere.
Notes:
This concludes Year 1! Thank you all so much for your encouragement! Year 2 will continue on right here! I'm going to go back and fix a few things for Year 1, so there will be a little break now as I make sure everything is set up correctly for future plot events.
Next time:
In the summer before second year, Regulus gets The Talk from Sirius and would really have rather not.
Chapter 20: The Talk
Summary:
This time:
In the summer before second year, Regulus gets The Talk from Sirius and would really have rather not.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Year 2: Mind Games
It smelled like… nothing.
The lack of scent when everything around him screamed of earthy tones was deeply unnerving. Regulus turned quickly in a circle, his eyes darting this way and that in search of some kind of familiar landmark.
Should he call out? Remain silent? It was impossible to know the right thing to do. For a moment he thought he might hide himself among the hawthorne tree trunks until he had decided on a course of action, but as soon as he pressed his palm against the coffee-colored bark, a distant, familiar voice animated from it, as though from the depths of a very deep well.
I’m hungry how much longer is this class I need to work on that charms essay I’m cold what’s mum going to send for my birthday who decided to make that painting of a mummy on the third floor it must have taken forever and it’s so bloody weird–
Thoughts.
Those were Barty’s thoughts.
He had pushed into Barty’s mind .
This was Legilimency.
Or:
Walburga Black pushes and pushes and pushes until Regulus’s mind shields can’t take it anymore. They crack— and from this, a terrible, powerful gift is born.
Chapter 19: The Talk
It seemed like they’d been away from Hogwarts for ages already when Regulus found himself trying to tolerate yet another familial interaction in the dining room of Number 4 Grimmauld Place.
The start of lunch had been tense, as things tended to be when his parents and their sons were in a room together. Regulus just wanted to make it through the meal and go up to his room, and he didn’t think he was asking for too much. Their mother was in a passable mood now that she had her wine in her, and their father was pretending to be deeply engrossed in a letter from his business associate, Lord Malfoy, likely to avoid conversation. Sirius, meanwhile, had spent the morning perfecting his sulk, furious that he’d been banned from flooing to the Potters’ to play Beaters and Chasers with James, who had apparently received a new broom for completing his first year at Hogwarts.
“There is a boggart in the library writing desk,” Walburga informed her husband as Regulus willed this interaction to be over.
“...Oh?”
“Yes, ‘oh.’”
“A task suited to third years. Surely no match for you.”
Walburga cast Orion a scathing look. “I am not common. I do not exterminate pests.”
Finally, his father looked up. He looked annoyed. “The Wizengamot is in session this week.”
“Oh, have you been gone all this time? I hadn’t noticed your absence.”
“Really? I’ve enjoyed yours.”
“Get rid of it,” Walburga snapped.
“You get rid of it,” Orion muttered, returning to his letters.
An icy silence filled the air.
Regulus had long suspected that his parents didn’t particularly like each other. Some days, it seemed like they might actually wish each other real harm. It was in these moments that he held his breath and made himself as small as possible, willing the storm to pass without pulling him and Sirius into its wake.
But as Regulus focused very intently on his plate, Sirius, beside him, exhaled sharply through his nose—the closest he could get to a nervous laugh without fully committing.
Regulus kicked him under the table.
Despite his efforts, Walburga’s focus snapped to them.
“The lack of anything resembling duty from the wizards of this house is completely unacceptable. I have exhausted my patience for managing it on my own. I will have another witch—only a witch—in this family. No more wizards. Do you two understand?”
Regulus did not understand. She placed emphasis on her words oddly and seemed to be telling this mostly to Sirius, whose stony expression gave away nothing.
“...We’re going to have a… sister?” Regulus asked slowly.
From the head of the table, Orion suddenly began to laugh.
Walburga, on the other hand, took on an even blacker expression. “Oh you make jokes now, Regulus?”
Before he could deny it, he found himself underwater.
Regulus was sitting there at the table, and yet it was as though he was drowning. The first breath he took felt like water, and it was so reminiscent of that horrible night when his tongue had been sliced off and the blood meant for it had rapidly filled his lungs that he lurched, panicked, to his feet.
At his side, Sirius frantically mirrored him.
“Sit down!” Walburga snapped, lowering the wand he hadn’t even seen her raise.
Swallowing large lungfuls of air now, Regulus shakily did so. His brother remained standing at first, fist clenched, and oh how Sirius hated their mother. It was so blatantly obvious, naked on his face and sparking from his iron eyes.
But she raised her wand again at Regulus, and only then Sirius did finally seat himself, his fingers trembling with rage.
“Do not think I wouldn’t trade you for a daughter. Either of you; both of you! I will find Sirius a young lady of suitable breeding to be my society companion. No more wizards. I tire of wizards! Now get out of my sight.”
Recently, Sirius had begun decorating his walls with non-moving Muggle posters from bands he’d never heard, movies he’d never seen, and events he’d never attended. It was an eclectic sort of collection designed to make their mother angry, which wasn’t a difficult thing to achieve in the first place.
“What was that?” Regulus demanded, rubbing his arm as Sirius finally let go to slam the door to his bedroom behind them.
“Why did you ask if we were getting a sister!? Were you trying to piss her off? Because you shouldn’t. You’re about five levels below where you need to be for that kind of fucking around.”
Regulus scowled at him, feeling defensive. “Well, it was a bit open-ended, wasn’t it? ‘I will have another witch in this family.’ Didn’t exactly sound like she was picking us out a governess! How was I supposed to know what she meant?”
Sirius stared at him. “Reggie, this is important, so answer honestly. Do you have any idea where babies come from?”
Stumped, he blinked. “What?”
“Just tell me.”
“They come from… being married?”
Sirius didn’t answer at first. He stapled his fingers together and tucked them under his chin with his wrists pressed together, closing his eyes with a sigh. Then, opening them once more, his brother walked over to his school trunk and kicked the lid open. The inside was a mess since Sirius had barely unpacked half of it and didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry to continue. Rummaging around inside, he found a book hidden under everything else and turned to face Regulus with a reluctantly determined expression.
“Sit down.”
Confused, Regulus did so, only to wish he hadn’t when he read the title.
Adolescence and Puberty: A Guide for the Developing Wixen.
Regulus balked in horror, all but throwing himself off the edge of the bed. “Actually, it was a joke. I was joking. And I’d like to leave now.”
“You can’t just avoid this, Reggie,” Sirius insisted, gripping the book tightly. “It’s pretty obvious that you don’t have all the facts.”
“I don’t want facts!”
“You need to know!”
“I don’t want to know!”
“Stop acting like a brat!” Sirius snapped, and that’s when Regulus noticed that his brother was getting genuinely upset with him.
It wasn’t fair.
Regulus knew that.
Sirius was only thirteen and parented him better than their mother or father ever could. His brother had scrounged up this information without any help from their family and was trying to make sure Regulus would benefit from his struggle and grow into a decent person.
Regulus knew it wasn’t right, but he didn’t have anyone else who cared enough to fill this role and he desperately needed Sirius to.
He needed Sirius to care about him.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’m listening. Sorry.”
They talked for over an hour.
At first, Regulus sat in an embarrassed silence, staring obediently at the pictures being presented at a business-like pace. Sirius talk at him about topics like anatomy, what a witch’s monthly was, and why he woke up on occasion feeling strange down there. He almost couldn’t bear the subject of wanking, but Sirius was trying so hard and Regulus would not disrespect him by being rude.
Eventually, they came upon the mechanics of how babies came to be.
“So, about… ‘sisters.’”
The lecture that followed was… well, horrifying. The most palatable version of it all was a type of magic called Cooperation Magic. The concept of it was two people combining their magic within a highly regulated potion that a witch then consumed to carry a baby to term. It was a solution to the dilemma of alliances being arranged through the marriage of two witches or two wizards, and was only effective for such couplings.
But Sirius didn’t stop there.
Apparently, there were other ways to make babies too. What Sirius had been trying to get at earlier involved the application of their recent anatomy lesson in ways that made Regulus willing to give just about anything to be just about anywhere else.
“You’ve got to use protection. What if you do it with a girl and she gets pregnant?” Sirius asked, ignoring his brother’s miserable expression. “Then what?”
Regulus did not know what to say to such a horrifying statement.
“I’ll tell you what. You’re going to have the rest of your life decided by other people–even worse than it is now. You might be stuck with a kid you weren’t ready for and a wife you don’t like. You don’t want that, do you?”
“I’m begging you to stop talking.”
Sirius refused to bow to his disgust, flipping the book’s pages to a different section. Regulus couldn’t help but notice that this chapter was much more worn, as though it had been perused many times before.
“Right. So going back to the part about parts…”
This topic was no less awful than the last. Sirius only glanced down at the book occasionally as he recited from it, mostly using it to point out a few educational diagrams that made Regulus look away in embarrassment. Sirius explained the mechanics of it with a certain amount of enthusiasm that made Regulus suspicious. His brother had three posters of Hunter Gray, one of the beaters for the Tutshill Tornados, tacked up on the wall beside his bed, and for the first time he didn’t think it was out of aspirational interest. It felt rude to ask, however, so this time when Sirius asked him if he had any questions, he shook his head.
“The most important part,” Sirius added just when Regulus thought they could move on from this mortifying ordeal, “is to make sure no one is doing anything they don’t want to do. Especially if a boy is putting anything in you. Do you get what I mean?”
“Sirius!” Regulus squeaked, appalled. “That’s disgusting! I’m twelve!”
“Exactly,” Sirius agreed. “So if anyone ever touches you ever, you have to tell me right away because I’ll rip their teeth out and shove them through their eye socket. Okay?”
“...Okay.”
“Okay. Great! Well,” Sirius slapped his hands on his thighs, standing up, “it’s time for me to forget this conversation ever happened. Let’s go flying. We can play Beaters and Seekers. I can’t wait to borrow James' new broom. He’s trying out for Chaser this year, you know. Oh! Did I tell you what Remus told me about…”
Regulus had repressed that incredibly awkward conversation pretty effectively by the time dinner came around. By some good fortune, their mother had gone over to Malfoy Manor to have a social evening with a few of the ladies she knew, leaving only the three Black wizards to get along.
It was hard to explain why Orion Black made Regulus feel like he wanted to vanish down a hole and never come out. He wasn’t violent like their mother, but he was terrible in other less precise ways. He very rarely made eye contact—in fact, his gaze seemed to slide right over Regulus his entire life, leaving him feeling insignificant and small. That feeling crept up on him as soon as the brothers stood to leave the table following the meal, only to have their father finally speak for the first time since they’d sat down.
“Regulus, stay behind.”
Sirius eyed their father warily at the order, clearly trying to decide if it was worth the potential consequences for them if he made a scene.
“You can go,” Orion dismissed his eldest son, watching Kreacher pour another glass of wine.
Sirius gave a short nod, exchanging significant looks with Regulus on his way out the door. Regulus could tell that Sirius wouldn’t be going far.
“Sit down.”
Instead of indicating the chair he’d recently vacated, Regulus was alarmed when Orion Black gestured to the seat next to him. That was far closer than he ever wanted to be to his father, but at the same time, how was he supposed to refuse?
He sat uncomfortably where he was bade and waited nervously as their father lifted his glass to his lips and lowered it, unhurried. Orion Black was not known for his heart to heart talks and was as uninvolved as fathers came while still remaining in the same household, spending nearly all of his time obsessing over the Black family business, Vin Noir.
Thirteen centuries ago, a French hedge witch named Bellatrix Grimmauld had carefully bred a type of wine grape called l'opale pointue. It had flourished in the loamy soil of what would later become the magical French province of Alexandre-Laurent, so named for her first child upon marrying Sebastian Black. Now, over a thousand years later, the winery those French peasants had built exported thousands of bottles of expensive black wine—vin noir—all over the world, making the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black a wealthy and powerful line indeed.
“As you know, your brother will carry out the task of creating heirs for the Black bloodline.”
Regulus couldn’t imagine a sentence he wanted to hear less from his father than the one he’d just spoken into existence about Sirius’s duties. Especially since he understood specifically what that entailed now.
“Your job,” he went on, unflinchingly, “is to avoid accidents.”
Regulus thought he might like to jump out a window at this point.
“Now, while I do understand the… vigor of youth, that does not excuse a Black from being careless. Like this business I’ve heard about with the Meadowes girl.”
Disgusted, Regulus opened his mouth to declare hotly that Dorcas was one of his best friends, thank you very much, and they would not be doing any of the things that Sirius had recently explained to him. But before he could say so, his father spoke over him.
“I’m going to tell you a story, Regulus,” his father said, adjusting his silver cufflinks and leaning back in the expensive dining room chair. Regulus braced himself against whatever awful story was about to come out of his mouth. “When I was in school, Gwenevere Mulciber propositioned me in our seventh year. She was a halfblood, but very beautiful. It was fun. But three weeks later, she came to me claiming she was pregnant.
“Well, I told her I wanted a paternity test right then and there. Trying to carry the heir to the Black main line, the audacity! She scurried off to the boy she’d been seeing at the time, but he was already betrothed to Eva Nott, from a good, strong pureblood line. So what could he do? Well, he couldn’t make her get rid of it, so he paid her off. Gwenevere had that bastard and put the Mulciber name on it, and now she wants for nothing financially because the day he stops paying for her lifestyle, she can whip out that old paternity test and send his reputation to shreds. And that bastard son of hers is older than his known heir, too. It’s going to be a mess sorting out legacy rights when he dies.”
Orion Black learned forward, folding his hands in front of him. “There’s a lesson for you there, Regulus. You might believe people just want you, but that’s a child’s way of thinking. People want to trick you. That is why you must stay vigilant and remember that every piece of you belongs to this house.”
Regulus did not know what to say to that.
Fortunately, that did finally seem to be the end of it. His father dismissed him from the room, and Regulus was only too willing to go.
Outside the door, Sirius met him with anxious energy.
“What happened? What did he say?”
Regulus bit his lip. He didn’t really want to talk about it. The conversation itself had felt so… cold; jaded and rebuking. Not like Sirius’s genuine concern and desire to share information. His father wanted to prevent muddying the bloodline, not share in his son’s new phase of life or encourage his safety.
“He wanted to talk about not making bastards,” Regulus admitted.
Understanding settled over Sirius’s features. He was nice enough not to make a joke out of it, likely having been through the same uncomfortable talk himself.
“He’s a gross, cynical bastard married to a vicious, evil cow. Don’t hold on to anything he said, Reggie. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
July
On July 1st, the school book lists arrived for the following academic year. Regulus carefully coordinated with his friends to find a time to ‘accidentally’ encounter one another, finally emerging from his correspondence with an exact date.
July 15th.
It wasn’t hard for Regulus to convince Sirius to convince their parents to take them to Diagon Alley. As a precaution, he buttered up his older brother by spending hours helping him practice for next year’s beater tryouts even before he was asked to, complementing his skills to excess and making Sirius preen under his admiration. He would have done it anyway, but it certainly paved the way for him to make his eyes wide, look up through his lashes, and plead his case.
“I really want to look for a new fairytale book but I can’t go to the bookstore by myself. Can you help me?”
Sirius folded like a lawn chair.
What ended up being a sticking point, which Regulus had already anticipated, was their parents’ declaration that Evan Rosier was to accompany them.
“No!” Sirius protested hotly when their mother told them this at dinner the night before their outing. “This is my trip with Regulus! I don’t want Rosier tagging along!”
Having owled Evan earlier that day on the subject, Regulus carefully hid his pleased expression as their mother barely acknowledged Sirius’s ire. “This is not a democracy. We are not voting on the subject. Lady Rosier and her heir will arrive tomorrow morning at 8:00 AM and we will depart for the Alley at 8:05 AM.”
Sirius looked absolutely furious.
“This is completely unfair!” his brother fumed the next morning while they were getting dressed for the occasion. Sirius had decided that Regulus needed to hear his entire grievance from the top and barged into his room to preach it. “This isn’t an outing for the local leftovers!”
Regulus didn’t bother arguing with him, satisfied that he’d gotten his way in the end. Sirius didn’t need to know that he had coordinated with Evan to arrange this, and so just nodded supportively each time his brother took a breath.
They waited for the Rosiers in the reception room and at 8:00 AM precisely, Evan’s mother stepped gracefully from the fireplace flames. She was about Walburga Black’s age with straight chestnut hair and brown eyes like her son. She greeted their mother with the familiarity of a close friend, which Regulus ignored as the floo turned green again, admitting Evan from the flames.
Regulus watched his best friend go through the formal motions of greeting his mother. When it came time for him to do the same with Sirius, the heir of the house, the older boy rolled his eyes when their parents weren’t looking.
“Rosier,” Sirius acknowledged unhappily.
“Black,” Evan agreed.
They grasp one another’s right forearms in a standard pureblood greeting—Sirius’s on top, because he was older and heir to the more prestigious line. With that out of the way, Evan was finally allowed to greet Regulus, which he did enthusiastically.
“Hey, Reg,” he grinned, clasping forearms in the same way, but in reverse. This time Evan wrapped his fingers around Regulus’s right forearm from the top, a reflection of his heir status compared to Regulus’s place as spare. When that was finally done, Evan pulled him in for a hug.
It felt good to have one of his best friends back.
When they pulled away, he noted at last that Evan was dressed in very nice casual robes done in dark blue and had been perfectly put together with matching silver trimmings and dark leather boots. He looked very dashing, though not in the same way that made Regulus’s heart flutter when Potter smiled at him.
As they moved through their shopping in Diagon Alley a short while later, Regulus and Evan took care to keep an eye out for Barty and Dorcas. They should have been around there somewhere but, despite not being nearly as packed as the August crowds, it was still a lovely Saturday morning and many people had arrived to take advantage.
Sirius was still bothered by Evan’s presence, but had clearly decided to deal with it by loitering between the second-year boys and trying to monopolize every drop of his little brother’s attention. He had developed an almost agitated air about him ever since their arrival after their mother had pulled him aside to speak briefly in Sirius’s ear.
“Look at that owl, Reggie! It’s huge!”
“Do you think those are real frogspawn? I dare you to eat one!”
“You know, Hogwarts’ one thousand year anniversary is going to be in two years. I bet they’ll throw a huge party for it!”
And on it went.
While observing the crowds partaking in shopping, Regulus couldn’t help but note an even larger number of aurors than last year stationed at different points in the alley, patrolling in pairs up and down the walkways. The tension that had been present last summer seemed to have doubled, and Regulus still didn’t know why.
He decided to ask.
“Sirius?” he said to get his older brother’s attention.
Sirius stopped rambling about his predictions on how Hogwarts might conduct its millennium celebration, looking over at him. “Yes?”
“Why is everyone so…” Regulus trailed off, watching a cluster of wizards in black robes jeer at a young family dressed in muggle clothes. The parents pulled their two children close with tight expressions, ushering them along to the nearest shop.
“…Tense,” Evan finished for him, watching the same thing with wide eyes.
As it had been last year, their mother had confidently left them to wander the alley while she and Lady Rosier stepped into Knockturn for tea. The ladies had left Sirius in charge of them, which had made the older boy smirk condescendingly down at the two Slytherins. Evan’s face had remained politely neutral but Regulus had glared back at him.
Sirius pursed his lips. He didn’t seem to want the younger boys to worry about it—especially Regulus, who he pulled a bit closer with a frown.
“It’s not tense. Everything’s fine.”
“Then why is your face like that?”
“BLACK! ROSIER!”
The three of them turned to see Barty Crouch Jr. rushing towards them, grinning like a madman. Hustling after him was a young female house-elf who twisted her fingers together nervously.
“You is supposed to be staying where I can see you, Young Master Barty!”
“Relax, Winky!” Barty called back as he tackled Evan, who swore at him. “I just so happened to spot some mates. What a coincidence!”
“What a coincidence,” Evan echoed drolly, shoving him away.
Barty held Regulus to his chest for just a beat after that, but it was enough to make Regulus’s skin flare with pink.
“What are you doing here?” Sirius’s annoyed voice interrupted.
Barty smirked, releasing him. “It’s a public place, Black. Don’t see your name on it.”
“And you just so happened to be here at the same time as us?” Sirius asked skeptically.
“I know, right? What a coincidence!”
Sirius looked quite pissy about the whole thing, clearly realizing he’d been tricked into this encounter. Regulus wasn’t worried. Sirius couldn’t stay mad at him for long.
They searched high and low for Dorcas, finally giving up the pretense of it all and beginning to speculate out loud where they might find her. Regulus had a hard time keeping his eyes off Barty, who walked at his right with Evan on his left. Every time their hands brushed against each other, Regulus’s heart fluttered.
This had never been the case before.
What did it mean?
Regulus was dying to ask Sirius about it. His brother would absolutely know, given their very detailed conversation last month. The only problem was that Sirius couldn’t stand Barty and said so at every opportunity. If he thought Regulus might have those kinds of feelings for him-–not that he necessarily did— Regulus knew that Sirius would do something insane to discourage it.
Sirius, after reluctantly shepherding the younger boys around Diagon Alley for nearly two hours, perked up when Regulus handed over a bunch of sugar quills from Coffer’s Company Confections as a peace offering around lunchtime.
“You’re still a sneaky Slytherin,” Sirius sniffed as he opened one, clearly not above accepting a bribe.
Despite his dramatics, Regulus could tell his brother was enjoying himself. He was doing some of his favorite activities: bossing Regulus around, throwing nasty comments at Barty, and trading flirtatious quips with a few students he knew from Hogwarts who stopped him in the alley.
“I’ll make it up to you,” Regulus promised, popping the one he’d kept for himself into his mouth.
“You mean you owe me a favor?” Sirius drawled, grinning when Regulus rolled his eyes.
“I lent you my broom all the time last year! If anything, we’re even.”
“Yeah, but you barely flew it, so it’s not like you were inconveniencing yourself. I had to come all the way to Diagon under false pretenses, share my favorite trip with Rosier, and hang out with Crouch. That’s three favors.”
“Three!?”
“Yes.”
“No, Sirius. One.”
“Three.”
“One. Come on, let’s keep looking for Dorcas.”
But Dorcas never materialized.
Notes:
Hey all! I'm so happy to see you. Let's keep going with Year 2: Mind Games!
Next time:
“It’s time the two of you learned Occlumency.”
Legilimency is five raking claws hooking onto his mind and tearing everything that made Regulus Regulus to shreads.
Chapter 21: Mind Games
Summary:
This time:
“It’s time the two of you learned Occlumency.”
Legilimency is five raking claws hooking onto his mind and tearing everything that made Regulus Regulus to shreads.
NOTE: I added a section to Chapter 19 regarding Sirius's conversation with Regulus at breakfast, based on a suggestion I recieved from Hestiaa. Thank you so much!
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“It’s time the two of you learned Occlumency.”
Sirius and Regulus had been having a very good morning. They had flown just after breakfast before retrieving their schoolbooks and making camp in the library, where they were now. (“Stop! There’s a boggart in that writing desk, Sirius!” “What’s a boggart?” “I don’t know, it sounds like some kind of monster—Sirius, don’t open it !” “Why? See, there’s nothing here!”) Sirius had been earnestly trying to teach Regulus to cheat at a dice game (“Why do you know how to cheat at so many stupid games?” “You never know when you’ll need to win, Reggie!”) when their mother had invited herself in, abruptly putting an end to their laughter as Regulus successfully swindled Sirius out of a caldron cake he’d bet.
“Occlumency,” Regulus repeated slowly as Sirius tensed next to him on the sofa.
“The art of defending one’s mind against invasion. The antithesis to Legilimency.”
“...Oh.”
“Sirius, I trust you’ve been keeping up with your exercises throughout the school year?” their mother drawled, clearly not believing her own words.
Sirius gave the fakest smile Regulus had ever seen. “Oh yeah. It’s all I think about, really.”
“So if I test your shields now, you would be able to perfectly defend your thoughts? Anything you didn’t want me to see?”
Sirius fell silent at that, looking a shade paler at the question.
Regulus nervously looked between the two.
“Hm. Sirius, stand up.”
His brother didn’t take those instructions well. He hunched his shoulders, digging his fingers into the black velvet of the couch. “No.”
“I thought you said you had been keeping up with your exercises?”
“I’m not doing this !”
“Yes you are! A lazy heir is a weakness that this family cannot afford!"
“I DON’T WANT YOU RUMMAGING AROUND IN MY HEAD!”
“THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE PRACTICED! LEGILIMENS !”
It took everything he had to keep from jumping to his feet in shock as he watched Sirius immediately fall to his knees in front of the sofa, knocking into the delicate decorative coffee table with their game scattered over it. Dice and cards flew every which way as it crashed to the floor, a spindly leg broken, while Sirius clenched his teeth and eyes against the attack that he couldn’t stop.
Regulus was overtly shaking, wide-eyed as he witnessed his mother dig through everything that made Sirius Sirius and emerge from the experience with barely a change in expression.
“It needs work. A lot of work.”
“GO TO HELL!” Sirius snarled, coming out of it with an embarrassed and furious air to him.
Their mother responded with a Stinging Hex.
Regulus didn’t dare breathe .
Their mother crossed the room with a predator’s grace. It was completely silent except for Sirius’s ragged breaths and the click of Walburga’s heels. She reached a particular shelf and plucked a book from it, easing back to them at an even stride.
When she held the book out for Regulus to take, he did so with trembling hands.
“Thank you for that poignant demonstration of incompetence. I’m sure Regulus will note that, won’t you Regulus?”
Regulus nodded jerkily, unsure where to look. His brother had still not managed to get to his feet, sitting back on his haunches and glaring down at their mother’s shoes. His stylish hair was in disarray and there was a thin layer of sweat on his brow.
That didn’t seem to bother her, though. “Your first test will be three days hence–”
Sirius jerked his head up to glare at her more hatefully than ever. “You will not do this to him!”
“--so I suggest you read that –” she nodded to the book she’d handed him “--much more closely than your brother did.”
Regulus nodded unevenly when their mother appeared to want some sort of response. She glanced briefly between them, sniffed with dissatisfaction, and turned neatly on her heel. Walburga paused briefly, noting the open and empty writing desk, but didn’t comment before sweeping from the room.
As soon as the door shut behind her, Regulus sucked in a nervous gasp, scrambling off the sofa to kneel in front of Sirius on the floor. “Are you alright!? What did she do!?”
But Sirius just shook his head, grunting as he hauled himself back up onto the couch. He seemed exhausted compared to his earlier energized state. Regulus stayed where he was, waiting anxiously for his brother to say something.
Finally, Sirius did.
“You’ve got to read that stupid book.”
Regulus frowned, glancing to where he’d let it fall on the floor next to him. “What?”
“The book, Regulus!” Sirius snapped, startling him with the use of his full name. He was rubbing at his temples like a massive headache had just hit and seemed testy in the way Sirius often was when he was in distress but didn’t want to show it.
Hesitantly, Regulus leaned forward to pick up the book in question. It wasn’t too thick or heavy. In fact, it was a fairly unremarkable paper-bound thing titled Occlumency and Legilimency: Skills and Exercises. He had seen Sirius with an identical copy last Yule, though only in the context of Sirius stacking all the books he owned on top of each other to create a towering platform on which to place his new Hunter Gray action figure.
“Have you read it?” Regulus asked.
“Well, no. I was technically supposed to, but I hardly expected the old witch to do something like that !”
Regulus flicked through the pages quickly to get a sense of it. He didn’t really know anything about Occlumency or Legilimency, except that their mother was considered very gifted in both. The more he read in his quick skim-through of the book, the more dread he felt thinking that his mother might be considered proficient in it.
“I… I don’t think I can do this in three days, Sirius,” he admitted in a shaky voice, feeling ill. This was very precise and subtle mind magic. Even casual perusal of the book showed that it typically took extensive training to cultivate mental defenses adequate to stave off an attack from someone who knew what they were doing. Of course, their mother wasn’t likely to accept an excuse like that.
“You’re going to try,” Sirius replied grimly. “We both are. C’mon kid, let’s go to my room where it’s…” He hesitated, and Regulus knew it was because he’d been about to say “where it’s safe” before recalling that nowhere in this house was really safe. He cleared his throat. “Where it's quieter.”
It was dead silent in the library apart from their conversation but Regulus obeyed, packing up his things and following Sirius up a floor to his older brother’s bedroom. When they entered the room, Sirius quickly drew his cypress wand and locked the door with a spell slightly stronger than the first year locking charm.
As usual, they both tried to ignore that their mother could counter it with ease, pretending that the charm really did make them safer.
It took awhile for Sirius to actually locate his copy of Skills and Exercises. It turned out that he had been using it as a paper weight for his casual collection of chocolate frog cards.
The book itself was sort of interesting, in a philosophical way. The author was very abstract as they discussed the existence of a natural, basic set of shields within each person to separate the individual from the chaos of the collective consciousness and the intrusion of attacking foes. Regulus had originally pictured walls of steel shields surrounding each person’s mind, but the book clarified that the subconscious looked very different depending on the individual. One theory suggested that the landscape reflected the location of a person’s death in another life, though there was no evidence to support this. The prevailing thought was that the mind selected a place from one’s memory, though it was unclear as to how or why the place was chosen.
Overall, Sirius was very little help in this endeavor.
“This is so bloody stupid,” he kept muttering, turning the pages so hard that one of them ripped. “‘Seek within.’ What a load of rubbish.”
While their task was the same, there wasn’t much discussion between them. What was there to say? The exercises mostly boiled down to meditating, which both brothers hated, and clearing one’s mind, which was difficult when the recollection of Sirius collapsing on his knees from their mother’s attack surfaced whenever Regulus thought he might be making progress.
By the time the third day rolled around, Regulus already knew what was coming.
“We should run away.”
Or at least he thought he did.
“What?” Regulus gasped, wide-eyed.
They were in the library once more, where their mother had directed them to await her for their Occlumency test. Regulus had been sitting nervously on the sofa, smoothing his robes around himself repeatedly and trying to clear his mind as Sirius stood at the window, staring intently outside. Regulus had meant to ask him what he was thinking about, but he was so stressed about what their mother was about to do that he hadn’t had the capacity for it.
Apparently he’d been thinking about that .
“I’m serious, Reggie,” Sirius went on, turning towards him. “Let’s just… go . Right now.”
Regulus’s heart sped up. Sure, neither of them liked it here or felt even vaguely safe in their beds, but Sirius had never suggested that they leave .
“Go where !? We’re kids, Sirius!”
Was he out of his mind!?
“We could go to one of the empty Black family properties,” Sirius improvised. There was a feverishness in his eyes and a quickness to his speech that Regulus had never heard before. “I’ve seen the list of them from Gringotts. We could—“
Regulus was shaking his head before Sirius had even finished. “They’d find us. She’d find us—”
“—There’s this cottage,” Sirius talked over him, “in Witcher’s Grove. It’s old; one of our ancient cousins died there. It’s on the rotation list for the Black house elves to clean and maintain twice a month, so it’s probably inhabitable. No one would know, as long as we leave before they get there on house elf days.”
“The elves would know!”
The door swung open.
The boys fell silent.
No matter the occasion, Walburga Black always seemed to dress like she expected to be called away by Society magazine to give an emergency opinion on the latest fashions. She was perfectly put together in her newest coal-colored summer dress from their Diagon Alley trip, complete with a small fluff of diamond-dotted black tulle pinned to her dark hair.
Regulus thought it looked like something she’d wear to their funerals.
“I trust you’ve prepared for our test today,” she said, moving elegantly into the room. Their mother gave no hint that she’d heard their conversation just before her arrival, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t. Neither of her sons answered her as they watched Walburga stop precisely in the center of the library, then draw her wand—laurel wood with disjointed, inconsistent coloration.
“I’ll go first,” Sirius blurted out, stepping hastily away from the window.
Regulus felt his breath come faster as his eyes shifted between his brother and mother, unsure if he should say something.
“No. I will be testing Regulus’s progress. I believe you may learn more effectively from observing him.”
“But I’ve been practicing!”
“It shouldn’t matter then, should it?”
Sirius was almost spitting sparks now; like he wanted to reach out and snap their mother’s wand in half. He didn’t answer, however, appearing disconcerted by Walburga’s observations. Regulus knew that it wasn’t a good thing that their mother was realizing that he was effective bait to keep Sirius in line.
“Regulus.”
The youngest Black stood on shaky feet, his hands clasped nervously together as he walked reluctantly to stand in front of their mother. Despite his increasingly frantic efforts, he had never succeeded in locating the natural shields the book had talked about. The landscape selected from his subconscious had consistently eluded him, leaving him woefully unprepared to stand against his mother now.
“Clear your mind.”
He remembered Sirius—his brave, strong brother—collapsed in pieces before her three days ago, trying to defend his own thoughts.
Regulus knew he would fail far worse.
“ Legilimens .”
It was like having five raking claws hook onto his mind and drag .
Thoughts and impressions and emotions all came flying at him out of sequence from every corner of his mind, flashing against the back of his eyes like a film played at triple speed. She was searching for memories of Sirius, that much he knew, pulling them towards her as Regulus gave everything he had to stop her.
He saw Sirius just as he looked at Hogwarts, very cool with his sleeves pushed up and tie loose.
“What’s wrong? Did someone hurt you?”
“Are wishing fires real?”
“Of course they are!”
And then, another:
Sirius, again, pulling his wand from his pocket and casting a drying spell on him to dispel the snow from his robes.
“What do we say?” Sirius teased, plucking at his now warm and dry sleeve. “Go on, let’s hear it.”
“Thank you, big brother,” Regulus replied sarcastically.
But it wasn’t enough. She wanted something personal; something to hold against him.
Sirius, protecting him from the bludger at the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff match.
Sirius, defending Regulus against Snape and Mulciber and the filthy comments being made about their brotherhood.
Sirius, nearly catatonic in the passageway under the Gunhilda of Gorsemoor statue, staring trance-like at the caricature of Regulus: half-dead and struggling for breath as it crawled towards them on its hands and knees, bright red blood drooling onto its bone-pale skin and dove-gray robes.
Regulus thrashed against Walburga’s immediate interest as she pursued that line of thought, his brother’s odd behavior, and then the sleepover that followed.
“What do you think it was?”
“A wraith?”
“But I’m not dead.”
Thestrals.
“I see them,” Sirius told him quietly. “They pull the carriages from the train to the castle. I watched you die. I see them.”
And then, finally:
“I hate her,” Sirius spoke into the darkness. “I hate her so much that it feels like I could kill her for the things she’s done to you; to us.”
“Sirius…”
“I’m going to do everything I can to protect you from her, Reggie.”
“You already do.”
“Not enough. It’s never enough.”
Regulus heard his name being called very distantly before he realized he was back in his parents’ library, completely collapsed on the carpet. He was breathing incredibly fast and his head pulsated with pain in time to each heartbeat.
But more than that, he felt… gross . Like he’d betrayed Sirius’s words that had been said to him in confidence. It had been like his own mind wasn’t safe anymore; like its contents didn’t even belong to him.
“REGGIE! REGGIE !”
“Have you found my parenting unsatisfactory , Sirius?”
“FUCK YOU, YOU CRAZY WITCH!”
“YOU ASKED FOR THIS; FOR ME TO FIND YOU MOTIVATION. IF YOU DON’T WISH TO DO THE WORK THAT COMES WITH BEING HEIR, YOU WILL QUICKLY FIND THAT REGULUS WILL ASSIST YOU. LEGILIMENS !”
Again.
Five raking claws swiped over his mind.
This time, she was looking for something personal about Regulus ; something to hold over him to keep him in line.
Regulus, unable to eat at the welcome feast after first being sorted to Slytherin for fear of choking on his mutilated tongue.
Regulus, waking up freezing after an unnerving dream about the dark lake with its ghostly green light.
Regulus, wondering if Barty thought his eyes were pretty.
Walburga latched onto that thought, following it back to a collection of associate thoughts that went with it:
Regulus, flustered by the rush of fresh grass, broom varnish, and the tang of sweat as Potter pressed into his space, the sheer cologne of boy washing over him.
Regulus, squirming against his chest as Potter held him aloft, carrying him like a bride with one arm under his legs and the other supporting his back at the quidditch match.
And then Regulus earlier this month at Diagon Alley, being held to Barty’s chest, his skin flaring pink and his heart fluttering with each brush of their hands.
Walburga dropped out of his mind once again, leaving him dazed and sick on the floor, his cheek pressed against the plush rug as he slowly came to awareness.
“STOP IT!” Sirius’s shouted words finally filtered into his mind as he was yanked bonelessly from one position to another. Sirius’s familiar scent of vanilla shampoo and fresh linen laundry soap made Regulus steal a shuddering breath, crowding blindly into his brother’s space. “LEAVE HIM ALONE! HE CAN’T DO IT, OKAY!?”
“That much is obvious,” their mother agreed, not looking away from Regulus.
Her lip twitched.
She thought his feelings were funny .
Regulus’s humiliation was complete.
He could feel Sirius boiling with rage. Against the top of Regulus’s head, Sirius’s jaw clenched hard enough to break teeth and his heart thundered away against Regulus’s ears. His brother seemed half-mad with fury by the time Walburga was done with them.
“Three days,” she decreed with that hateful little frown, and it must have taken a Herculean effort for Sirius to resist the urge to jump at her. When she had crossed the threshold from the library and made to close the door, she spoke over her shoulder.
“And boys?”
Regulus looked up nervously.
“There is nowhere you could go that I would not eventually find.”
The aftermath of the whole thing came upon Regulus in waves of embarrassed rage.
Their mother had picked through his fledgling feelings about Barty and Potter with a sort of clinical interest that felt completely degrading. And now someone knew ; knew that he may not only be attracted to his own best friend, but Sirius’s too. And if Sirius got upset just over Regulus speaking to Potter, how was he going to react to something like this ?
Sirius couldn’t find out.
Fortunately, Sirius never asked what she had unearthed from the recesses of his mind. He wouldn’t. The brothers practiced their meditation and mind-clearing in a tense silence until the inevitable call for them came again.
And again.
And again .
“Are you ready this time?” their mother asked in the same library in which she’d torn them both apart every three days before.
Sirius looked at her, but didn’t say anything.
Regulus wondered if she knew how much Sirius hated her.
“I can’t beat her at this,” Sirius had told him yesterday as they had readied for bed. “But I can try to outmaneuver her.”
“That’s dangerous. She's mad , Sirius!”
“She wants to see the inside of our minds, Reggie. And I’m going to show her everything she needs to know about mine.”
With those words at the forefront of Regulus’s mind, he watched helplessly as the process began all over again.
The spell hit Sirius like lightning, putting him on his knees just as before. However, there was something new about this encounter, because their mother didn’t hold him under the spell for long. It was heart wrenching to see his proud brother bend, but Regulus was startled when it lasted barely a minute as compared to ten.
“SIRIUS ORION BLACK!” their mother shrieked, disgusted as she withdrew from her eldest son’s mind.
Regulus wasn’t totally sure what Sirius had done to earn that reaction, but the triumphant smirk Sirius held onto even as Walburga cast a Stinging Hex at him and ordered him out of her sight clearly meant he’d figured something out. She was red-faced and furious in a way that Regulus hadn’t exactly seen before, which made him wonder what she had seen upon forcing her way into Sirius’s mind.
He found out when he sought Sirius out immediately after being dismissed himself, finding his brother lounging in his room with a quidditch magazine.
“How did you do that?” Regulus wanted to know, crawling onto the bedspread as Sirius scooted over to make space. It was very hard to pull one over on their mother. She simply had too much time and spite on her hands.
“Thought about naked witches from a dirty magazine Pete showed me,” Sirius replied easily, looking proud of his solution.
Regulus made a face at the comment. “ Ew , Sirius!! That’s disgusting!”
“You’ve got to make it really uncomfortable for her to invade your mind. She kept trying new things to dig up, but I just showed her how round Miss December’s tits looked on the centerfold.”
“ SIRIUS !”
Sirius laughed at him. “I’m answering your question!”
He was pretty sure his face was beat-red at this point. “That’s gross !”
“Speaking of gross,” Sirius crossed his arms over his chest, “I’ve been meaning to ask you. What’s the deal with you and Crouch?”
Regulus immediately looked away, thinking anxiously of the thoughts and feelings their mother had witnessed and would witness again soon. “Bugger off. There is no me and Barty.”
“I don’t like him,” Sirius announced.
Despite his commitment to denial, Regulus rolled his eyes. “Well good thing it has nothing to do with you.”
“So you agree. There is something.”
“I’m twelve !”
“I kissed someone when I was twelve.”
Regulus gaped at him. “What!? Who?”
“That girl they brought for the first betrothal dinner last summer. Isadora Fawley.”
Regulus sat up straight, completely forgetting their mini-argument. “When? How did it feel? Why didn’t you tell me? Did you like it?”
As always, Sirius seemed to enjoy having Regulus’s undivided attention. He didn’t answer right away, pretending to think long and hard about his answers before grinning at him.
“When we were coming in from the gardens, where our parents couldn’t see.” He shrugged. “It was alright. It gets better when you get good at it.”
“‘Get good at it?’” Regulus repeated, amazed. “You mean you’ve kissed other people too!?”
Merlin, his big brother was so cool !
“Yes, obviously. There was that time when Gryffindor won against Ravenclaw last year. The party was incredible… ”
Sirius went off on a tale about truth or dare and spin the bottle that left Regulus gasping and laughing for the first time in what felt like forever. Sirius was an excellent storyteller, dramatizing all the right parts and mimicking the voices of the people involved in all the right places. It reminded Regulus of when they were kids and Sirius would sneak into his room to read him fairytales after their mother had screamed at her youngest son because he couldn’t do anything right.
It was a relief.
Their house had sucked the life out of him this summer. He was just thankful that the two of them weren’t completely broken from it.
It seemed that Sirius’s tactic to bomb their mother with uncomfortably explicit thoughts had worked, because on their next occlumency session, she pointedly asked Regulus to come alone. She said this one morning when all Regulus could think about was how to avoid spending time with her, and all Regulus could answer with was a small nod as Sirius began to seethe next to him upon being informed that Regulus was being taken from him.
It seemed that Walburga intended to follow through on her realization that Sirius’s punishments were far more effective when they were taken out on Regulus.
Well Regulus had tried, and no one could say he hadn’t.
He’d tried to follow the advice of the Occlumency book, but not Sirius’s questionable teachings. He simply couldn’t weaponize his feelings about those boys, no matter how Sirius urged him to think of something shocking to ward her off. It just didn’t seem to help or stop the inevitability of Walburga Black sinking her claws into his mind.
Events were progressing about as miserably as they usually did: their mother ordered him to clear his mind, Regulus started to get very nervous as he tensed for the pain that he knew was coming, and then his whole head felt like it was about to explode from the pressure put to it from the inside.
But this time…
This time, something went wrong.
Walburga had her metaphorical talons tangled in the place within Regulus’s mind that collected his memories of his classmates. Members of his house flashed against the back of his eyes—Malfoy, Snape, Mulcibar, Avery, Lestrange—until his mother picked one on a whim. She yanked hard on the delicate floss that connected Lestrange back to the others. It hurt so badly that Regulus could barely stand it. The fibers that were left behind frayed and curled in to protect themselves from her reach—
Snap .
Blinding, stunning pain.
Regulus couldn’t hold in the scream that came with it. It felt like his head was splitting in two, starting just behind his right eye and bolting towards his left ear like lightning.
Distantly, he heard the sound of running, then the crash of the library door opening. The distant sounds of his brother arguing with his mother reached him long before Sirius himself did.
“Reggie! REGGIE! What did you do to him !?”
“I don’t answer to you!”
“WHAT DID YOU DO!”
“HE’S DRAMATIZING THE SITUATION! STOP SCREAMING THIS INSTANT, REGULUS BLACK!”
The yelling just made things worse. He felt blinded, dazed, and struck mute. There was nothing but a yawning tunnel of black spots and nausea where his eyes used to be.
Something had broken.
He’d heard it break.
He vomited violently all over the floor, taking harsh, gasping breaths between heaves until he lost consciousness entirely.
But nothing relieved the pain.
Notes:
Next time:
As Regulus recovers from his mother's attack, a curious new ability begins to settle over him.
Chapter 22: The Seer
Summary:
This time:
As Regulus recovers from his mother's attack, a curious new ability begins to settle over him.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Walburga Black was a very accomplished Legilimens, but she had made a mistake; had pulled on something fragile and snapped it clean in two.
Regulus’s migraines were relentless.
It felt as though his insight magic was stuck in a constant state of reach—catching on everyone and everything around him like a fishhook dragged through tangled weeds. This wasn’t like before, however, when his wand was the conduit and he the recipient. Now, magic rolled directly through him like a wild lightning storm; no buffer, no quarter—only ferality and raw perception of moments he didn’t recognize.
—Sirius—an older, taller version of him anyway—stumbled back up the dark stairs of Grimmauld Place, staggering towards his room, desperate to keep quiet. His heart raced in his chest and his sweaty hands shook as he fumbled for the doorknob.
The precipice had been upon him for some time now.
To run or not to run?
Sprinting to his closet, he shoved armfuls of robes, ties, his favorite leather jacket, and a random shoe into his open school trunk. From his dresser, he snatched up the purse of knuts, sickles, and galleons he’d acquired over the years, along with his cigarettes, tossing it into the fray as well. The photo frames from his nightstand came last, shattering as he gathered them up and threw them into the trunk, closing the lid as fast as he could before shrinking the whole thing down to put in his pocket.
He was panting.
He was leaving.
Bloody fucking hell, he was leaving.
Sixteen years, he’d put up with this place and its inhabitants. Sixteen. And tonight, Sirius would leave this hellhole behind and all the misery that came with it. He wouldn’t look back; wouldn’t give anyone the chance to drag him down—
Sirius was worried about him.
He knew that.
But the sheer volume of information being thrown at him was overwhelming. Even one more word being forced into his head was too much. So, every time Sirius tried to talk to him, Regulus would curl into a tighter ball under the bed covers, squeezing his eyes shut even harder than before.
That first night, Sirius had hidden Regulus away in his room.
The next morning, Sirius resisted their mother’s intrusion with everything he had.
“LEAVE ME ALONE!”
BANG BANG BANG.
“WHERE IS HE? WHERE IS REGULUS!?”
“WHAT DO YOU CARE!?”
Regulus felt completely useless, huddled in the corner of his sibling’s bed, covered in sheets and a thick duvet like he was five years old. But each slam of their mother’s fist at the door sent shockwaves through his skull until a film of tears collected at his eyelashes from the pain of it.
“I ALLOW HIM TO MISS MEALS IN THE DINING ROOM IF HE REMAINS IN HIS ROOM! THIS IS NOT HIS ROOM!”
“WHAT FUCKING DIFFERENCE DOES IT MAKE!?"
“WHEN I GIVE ORDERS I EXPECT COOPERATION TO THE LETTER, YOU UNGRATEFUL BOY!!!”
His older brother tried arguing, cursing, and even the meager amount of second year spells in his repertoire to keep her away from Regulus, but in the end, Walburga Black was just too nasty a person to defy.
She blasted the door down.
Words were said.
Threats were made.
Sirius suffered.
And still Regulus could do nothing.
Every sound, smell, taste; every faint brush of air was like threads of translucent white fire feeding straight into his nerves. Sight, however, was the worst by far. A flicker of light could send Regulus to his knees. Kreacher had darkened Regulus’s bedroom as much as possible, but it didn’t help. Even blindfolded, Regulus’s eyes were obsolete when he could see so much more in the shadows.
“—Oh! Sirius!”
“Merlin, what happened!?”
A witch and wizard appeared at Sirius’s side swathed in dressing gowns. Regulus had seen them both before, peering jealously over as Sirius hugged them both tightly before reluctantly slouching over to join Regulus with their parents. These were James Potter’s parents, Euphemia and Fleamont Potter—
“I wouldn’t say he’s ‘catatonic,’ Lady Black.”
“What in Merlin’s name would you call it!?”
The healer they called in two days later was unmoved by either Walburga’s venomous personality or Sirius’s barely contained hostility boiling just beneath his skin, vibrating from his guard-post at the foot of the bed back in Regulus’s room. He felt the faint tremor of his brother’s fingers as they clutched the hem of Regulus’s pajama pants.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Alistair Song, Mister Black. I am your grandmother’s healer, and I would like to meet Regulus. I’m told he’s unwell.”
Again, Regulus did not need to be told this, absorbing the truth through his skin like water on a frog. Despite his blindness, he could perceive a middle-aged wizard with dark chestnut hair streaked with white, steeped in the blistering heat of a powerful desert. Regulus thought he had seen this man before at Black Castle making house calls to his decrepit and increasingly senile Grandmother Melania, which did not bode well for his current circumstances.
“You’re a healer,” Sirius repeated skeptically.
“I am.”
The conversation amongst the room’s occupants sounded as though it was reaching him from under water. Regulus tuned in and out of the fighting, noting the occasional raised voice but utterly preoccupied by the overwhelming pull of another vision clouding his mind.
“—Mum? Dad?” James Potter’s sleepy voice called from a short distance away. “Who’s here?”
Lord Potter hobbled to his feet, shuffling towards the direction of his son down a dark hallway. The voices started out soft but turned much louder as Potter was informed of what was happening.
“I want to see him—!”
“Stand aside, Sirius, or I will make you.”
The tremor in Sirius’s fingers grew more pronounced.
“I’M NOT LEAVING!”
Healer Song did his best to diffuse the situation. “You needn’t leave, Mr. Black. I just want to take a look at Regulus, if that may be permitted.”
“—This is powerful blood magic,” Lady Potter murmured, still running her wand over Sirius’s shuddering throat.
Waving her wand, she summoned a book from another room and thumbed through it until she reached a page with a horrific depiction of a wizard swaying slowly from a gallows in an invisible wind. The illustration did not hold back: the body’s neck stretched nauseatingly long and the expression on its face was almost inhuman.
Blood Magic: the Hanged Man, the heading of the page read—
A slow fog of gentle calm began to reach over him; a horribly familiar thing. The kind of thing that preceded being forced to swallow his rotten tongue from a jar. Regulus wanted to fight it; fight the loss of control that he had become familiar with already. But… the endless visions had exhausted him, and he was just so tired.
“Open your eyes.”
He did so. The new hurricane of visual information clashed with the vision at hand—
—Shifting a few pages further, she found a new chapter with a new animation: a frail wizard who grew stronger by the second as a second wizard began to waste away.
Parasite Bonds, the heading read—
More talking. An explanation, maybe, that Regulus couldn’t process—
Slowly, his field of vision began shifting sideways. It felt like something just behind his eyes was being soldered together by waves of desert heat; the instability of his mind stabilizing through the will of someone else. He was sewn tighter and tighter together until he finally felt a dull sort of pressure, and then something clicked back into place within his mind.
There was a brief, instantaneous relief that crashed over him like cool lake water. His insight magic at last curled up into his core like a hibernating snake, no longer responsible for drawing in every detail of his surroundings.
However, just as quickly, came what felt like a backlash—a surge of thrashing, feral, frantic pressure, that sought to split his skull in two.
He had traded one hell for another.
When Regulus had visited his cousin Narcissa and her family in Mermaid Loch four summers ago, the severed tentacle of a leviathan had washed ashore on their private beach. Sirius had refused to let him get too close as the amputated limb thrashed and spasmed against the ground, sending pebbles and sand into the air for nearly ten minutes before becoming still.
It felt like a piece of that leviathan was thrashing around his head now, attempting to find space for itself in a place that was thoroughly occupied by Regulus. The inside of his skull felt hammered and torn with the violence of a phantom presence; a wild animal trying to escape a cage.
Healer Song had been adamant that Regulus’s shields were now correctly sealed shut, though it was clear that the lack of respite from migraines had surprised him. Song visited Regulus three more times under Sirius’s fuming glare before deciding on what potion to prescribe. Walburga had tried to fire him, accusing Song of incompetence at the top of her lungs, but had ultimately been overruled by a less than cordial visit from Grandfather Arcturus Black, who held their mother under a Strangulation Hex for a nail-biting sixty seconds as he scathingly asked if the healer he’d hired for his own wife was not good enough for her.
It was hard to describe the difference in his visions before and after the healer’s visit except to say that the visions before came with a certainty that they would eventually come to pass, while those after felt like a truth that didn’t quite belong to him; a reality parallel to his own, kept at such arm’s length that it seemed more hypothetical than inevitable.
For example, in a world where Regulus Black was betrothed to Augustus Rockwood, they would spend their first few months as newlyweds in Mermaid Loch. As second sons, neither Augustus nor Regulus would inherit a title, but they would live well from their stipends from the Black and Rockwood estates in addition to the proceeds from Augustus’s work at the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic and Regulus’s position as a Hogwarts librarian assisting Madam Pince.
It was a good enough life. The men got along and would frequently spend time in their sitting room reading together. There would always be this space between them that Regulus would never quite understand though. His husband kept all sorts of odd hours that kept Barty and Evan, together but never married, indignant on his behalf.
“Has he taken a lover?” Evan asked carefully when they came for a visit in Augustus’s absence.
“I’ll beat the shit out of him,” Barty promised.
“I don’t think so...” Their sex life was nearly non-existent even when Augustus was actually around, and Regulus couldn't help but wonder if he had much interest in the act at all.
But he could never really be sure.
“Is he nice to you?” Sirius demanded during tea at his home with Remus in Tulgey Wood on one of the few occasions when he acknowledged that Regulus was married at all.
Sirius had never thought Augustus was good enough for him. He found the Ravenclaw too serious and silent at school and refused to bend on the few occasions that Remus attempted to coax his husband into a conversation with Rockwood.
“Yes, he’s nice to me,” Regulus agreed blandly, watching curiously as James Potter looked despondently into his teacup when the conversation of marriage came up.
Other than that, it would all go well enough until the day Sirius appeared white-faced at the Hogwarts library, dressed in his scarlet Auror robes and asking to speak with him. Agitated, Regulus dragged him to his office before demanding to know what was going on.
“Your husband has been arrested. He’s been passing Voldemort information, Reggie! He’s a fucking death eater!”
Regulus woke in a cold sweat, wide-eyed and breathing quickly.
Arrested.
His husband had been arrested.
Regulus scrambled from his bed, frantically searching for his wand. He needed to get to the Ministry of Magic. Wait, no—first he needed to call Evan, the Black family solicitor.
Except his wand was not where he left it, and he was not in his bedroom at Rockwood Manor.
It was like looking through a window where all the objects on the other side seemed hauntingly familiar, yet nothing was recognizable. The framed photos carefully arranged on the desk near the bed were filled with people and places that didn’t mean anything to him. He didn’t even recognize the boy that had startled awake next to him, who had been calling his name repeatedly as Regulus spun in circles, trying to get his bearings.
“REGGIE!”
But wait… he did recognize him! It was as though Sirius had regressed to his early schoolboy days. His hair and status were both much shorter—and yet, as the other Black sprang from the bed, he was somehow still taller than Regulus.
Regulus opened his mouth to express his shock, but what came out was: “Augustus isn’t a Death Eater!”
“...What?”
“He wouldn’t pass Voldemort information! I know you never liked him, Sirius, but this is insane!”
The younger version of his brother stared at him. “What the hell is a ‘Death Eater?’”
Baffled, Regulus could do nothing but stare helplessly back.
Something about the combination of silence and the confused look on his face seemed to raise alarms.
“What’s the matter with you?” Young Sirius demanded, coming right up to his face in the dark room to peer more closely at him. It was striking how similar this Sirius looked to the adult version who had swept into his office at Hogwarts to deliver the awful news; like two shades of the same color. “And why do your eyes look like that!?”
Regulus tried to resist as the boy wrestled him down to pry his right eyelid up. “Stop it!”
“Just open your eyes! Ow!” he added when Regulus tried to bite him. “What the fuck, Reggie!?”
“Leave me alone! You arrested my husband, Sirius! Let me go!”
Finally, that made the boy freeze, immediately dropping his arms from where he had been holding Regulus in place. “Your husband? What husband? Reggie, you're twelve! What are you talking about?”
But Regulus couldn’t answer him. His thoughts and memories were like foamy bubbles scattered around his head—there,but not accessible to him. He watched the boy press his palms against his eyelids, inhale shakily, then remove them with an expression of forced calm.
“Drink this,” Sirius said abruptly, reaching over to his bedside table and shoving forward a potion bottle that hadn’t been there when Regulus went to sleep.
“What? No!”
“It’s the potion the healer’s been giving you. I nicked it from our parent’s medicine cabinet.”
Our parents.
“What are you talking about? Our parents are at Grimmauld Place!”
Sirius stared even harder at him. “Are you sleepwalking or something?”
“I need to get to the Ministry, Sirius!” Regulus snapped impatiently, scanning the room for a change of clothes. “They’ve arrested my husband!”
At that point, Sirius seemed to decide that Regulus was completely beyond reason because he did not ask again. Instead, he suddenly lunged forward, wrestling Regulus until he’d pinned him against the wall. With his teeth, he tore the cork from the potion bottle and, ignoring Regulus’s protests, began to force the potion down his throat.
It was slow going and Regulus choked and spat more than he swallowed, but with his brother holding his nose, Regulus found he had little choice but to comply. The effects began to kick in just as Sirius let him go, so he staggered the short distance he could manage towards the door until he felt too dizzy to continue.
There was a beat.
Then a wave of exhaustion nearly knocked him flat.
He found his eyes suddenly impossible to keep open, as though a blanket of fog had cloaked him, buffering his senses from the real world. It was a dragging, frightening feeling that he whimpered against, but not for long.
Regulus woke to raised voices and another potion being spelled down his throat.
He was getting really tired of passing out.
“WHAT IN MERLIN’S NAME WERE YOU THINKING!? YOU COULD HAVE KILLED HIM!”
“I GUESS WE HAVE THAT IN COMMON THEN!”
“CAN YOU NOT READ? ARE YOU STUPID? ‘NOT FOR CHILDREN’S HANDLING.’ THAT MEANS YOU, SIRIUS BLACK!”
“Young Master Regulus?”
Disoriented, Regulus looked over at the house-elf hovering by his bedside. The old thing was wringing its hands nervously.
“How is you feeling?”
“IT WASN'T HELPING HIM ENOUGH! YOU DIDN’T SEE HIM—HE WAS ACTING CRAZY! YOU NEEDED TO GIVE HIM MORE!”
“I DIDN'T REALIZE THEY WERE GIVING OUT HEALING DEGREES WITH THE HOGWARTS SCHOOL LETTERS NOW!”
“I feel better,” he said quietly, and it was true. Astonishingly, the splitting migraine of the past several days had vanished. He felt very strange still, like his head was stuffed with cotton, but overall, it was a vast improvement.
“YOU NEVER BLOODY HELP US! I HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING AROUND HERE!”
The familiar crack of a Stinging Hex made him look up.
“DON’T YOU DARE GO SNOOPING THROUGH OUR MEDICINE CABINET AGAIN! DO NOT GO INTO OUR ROOM AT ALL!”
“What happened?”
“Bad Young Master Sirius is giving you too much Entrancing Tonic,” he replied. “You is not breathing when Mistress Black calls for you.”
The mention of her snagged Walburga’s attention. Their mother cast a scrutinizing look at him. “Well, you’re awake at least—no thanks to your brother. Speak.”
Uncertain, he bit his lip. What was he supposed to say?
“Are you mentally incompetent now!?”
“No,” he replied quietly.
She sniffed. “You get your weak mind from your father, clearly.”
Regulus didn’t dare say anything to that, watching their mother leave the room in a storm of fashionable pale blue robes. Kreacher cast a last worried look at him before following suit.
The door shut.
Sirius sagged in relief, relaxing out of his guarding position in front of him. “Merlin. You scared the hell out of me! You were rambling like a lunatic! Do you remember that?”
“I… don’t know,” Regulus admitted shakily. He pulled himself up in bed, tucking his knees to his chin, slightly disoriented.
Sirius began to pace.
“You kept saying your husband had been arrested. You were acting crazy, saying you had to go to the Ministry.” Sirius paused, ran a hand roughly through his hair. “So I figured, maybe you just needed more of that medicine they’d been giving you, you know? Just to calm you down. But I gave you way too much. Kreacher said… I mean, he’s a wanker and was probably just trying to scare me… but he said I gave you four times the dose you were supposed to have for someone your size. I didn't think…” His brother looked back at him. “I thought she wasn’t giving you all of it because she’s awful; not because it would hurt you.”
“It’s okay—“
“It’s not!” Sirius snapped, spinning around to glare at him. “It’s not fucking okay! I almost killed you!”
“Not on purpose,” Regulus tried to soothe him. “It’s okay—“
“STOP SAYING THAT!”
Regulus jumped.
“Sorry,” Sirius added at a normal volume. “I’m just… I can’t even trust our own mother to take care of you... I don’t think it’s supposed to be like that. It’s not like that for James.”
Regulus couldn’t help but think back to his conversation with Barty on the train home for Yule last year.
“I don’t think she’s allowed to do that… Your mother, doing those things. It’s not allowed.”
And his automatic answer.
“It’s just what’s done.”
“Well maybe it shouldn’t be!” Sirius replied hotly.
“Maybe,” Regulus agreed honestly.
But saying it wouldn’t make a difference.
Not here.
Not in this house.
Notes:
Next time:
“Arranging their younger sibling's betrothal is usually an heir or heiress’s first act as successor.” Regulus learns that Sirius's grip on his future is tighter than he realized.