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Chapter Text

On Saturday night, the Order of the Phoenix filed into its headquarters for its first full meeting in months.

Well, this was not completely true. Sirius, for one, actually lived there for the moment, thus didn't so much have to ‘file in’ as ‘file downstairs.’ Emmeline, who was currently staying there while looked for an alternative to her crime scene home, was still upstairs, nose deep in charms research she declined to discuss. Harry was not a member, and despite his grumpy insistence that, as the person who was likely to end up killing Voldemort, he ought to be, even Sirius knew it would be best to wait 'til he was seventeen. With any luck - not that they'd ever had much of that - it'd be over before that. Regulus was also elsewhere, and also not a member, but that could change tonight.

The first person through the door had been McGonagall. He'd heard about her being in the hospital, but she was clearly back to health and ready to get back into the action. She'd given him a tin of biscuits – chocolate shortbread that brought on the sense memory of sitting in her office – and ushered herself downstairs. Molly and Arthur came next, clearly in the midst of some sort of disagreement but refusing to show it publicly. Molly had asked if Bill had arrived yet, and when he hadn't, had gone back to talking to Arthur in pointed sentences. Sirius supposed when you'd been married that long, you just understood that sort of thing. Next in was Kingsley, dressed in unusually muggle clothes and waving the question away with a 'Later' at Sirius' curious look. Tonks followed minutes later, looking drab and colourless but also strangely nervous.

“Everyone here yet?” she asked, taking one of the shortbreads he'd left on the side table.

“Nah, it's still early,” Sirius replied.

Seemingly deflated again – what the hell was going on with her – she disappeared down the back just as Moody showed up. He inquired if Sirius had gotten his wand (he had), if there'd been any trouble on his end (there hadn't), and who'd made the biscuits (McGonagall, which was sufficient enough even for Mad-Eye to take one). Dedalus popped in right after, and after inquiring if he was the last, practically beamed and headed downstairs.

However, it was upstairs that caught his attention. He heard something fall over and wondered if perhaps Harry'd run afoul of something in the house. He popped his head in on Emmeline, “Watch the door, will you?”

“It's just the Order coming in,” she said in her Research voice, which meant she wasn't really listening.

“Or it's a Death Eater coming in since they're wondering why half the people on their hit list are coming into a pureblood stronghold,” Sirius replied.

She looked up finally, blinked twice, and said, “I'll go watch the door.”

It didn't take him long to realise it was Remus coming in by floo. They'd known he'd be short on time; he was undercover up north, and they didn't like magic, so floo seemed a better idea than apparition, so the drawing room had been temporarily connected by one of Arthur's friends in magical transportation. He did look a bit worse for wear; it couldn't be easy on him, living in a way he'd always been afraid he'd have to, one day. Sirius pulled him into a tight hug and was pleased to find it returned.

“Everyone's heading downstairs,” Sirius said, pulling away from him. He still looked on with a little trepidation, but it couldn't be helped. No one was going to judge him for something he couldn't control here, or Sirius would end up smacking heads, same as he always did.

When he came back down the stairs, Hestia and Emmeline were talking quietly. Hestia gave her a quick hug and disappeared down the hall before Sirius could say hello. “Alright?”

Emmeline nodded, “I'm just getting a little tired of the question.”

Sirius could respect that. “Okay.”

Of course the next person in was Sturgis, who immediately inquired if Emmeline was doing alright. Sirius snorted despite himself, and Emmeline, ever the polite one of the McKinnon-Evans-Vance-Macdonald friendship, answered politely and directed him downstairs. Arabella followed, looking him over and declaring he needed a haircut before disappearing herself. Elphias, cordial as ever, soon joined.

Snape arrived with his usual glide in like he owned the bloody place. To Sirius' surprise, it was not him he seemed to look sourly at, but Emmeline. “Vance,” he sneered.

“Severus,” Emmeline replied, evenly.

He then pushed past them both, getting Sirius on the arm in a way that had to be deliberate.

“Alright, I know why he's a prick to me, but he's usually at least polite to you,” Sirius commented. Emmeline shrugged in response. Nothing about Snape made bloody sense, so he supposed this was just one more thing to add to him being a prat.

Finally, Bill arrived, and he and Emmeline both went downstairs. It wasn't the first time they'd been waiting on Dung, nor probably the last. He showed up only a few minutes late, wearing what Sirius was sure was actually a dress rather than robes and tapping his nose as he came in.

Then, as always, Dumbledore arrived last. He looked Sirius up and down, before nodding to himself. “You look well,” he said, peering over his glasses.

“Good as new,” Sirius said.

“And Harry?” His eyes flickered to the landing above. “I take it he is here.”

Sirius steeled himself. “He is.”

“I imagine that's a conversation we will need to have,” Dumbledore said, thoughtfully. “But not one for tonight. Lemon drop?”

Somewhat startled by that, as he had been expecting to have to hash it out, Sirius nodded and took the yellow sweet. He instantly felt his cheeks retract, and in case he got the wrong impression: “Really sour,” he said, around the sweet.

“Yes, from your face, I did guess that,” Dumbledore replied. “I thought perhaps if everyone were looking at each other that way, perhaps the animosity between you and Severus would not be as noticeable.”

Sirius almost choked on the sweet, but his tone and face both indicated it was a joke rather than a true chastisement.

Dumbledore indicated the hallway, “Shall we?”

“My friends,” Dumbledore addressed the now full group in the kitchen. “This is our first time meeting as a whole in some time, Hagrid notwithstanding.”

“Where is he?” Bill asked.

“With his brother,” Dumbledore replied. “Driving away the horrors of the last year at Hogwarts has been no easy task. However, Dolores Umbridge has now been returned to the Ministry-”

“They can't keep her on after what she did!” Molly exclaimed. “Have you seen poor Harry's hand?”

Sirius snapped to attention. “What do you mean?” The sudden silence in the room indicated there was something everyone seemed to know that he didn't. Irritation rising in him, Sirius again asked, “What about Harry's hand?”

“Oh, you haven't noticed,” Snape piped up, sounding entirely too amused. “What sort of godfather doesn't notice a bloody scar? Perhaps he should have been left where he was.”

Sirius reared to snap, but at the same time, Remus told him to sit down, and Dumbledore said Snape's name in a way that made his hair stand on end. Still, if something was wrong with Harry, he had a right to know. More to the point, why had Harry himself not told him?

“Excuse me a minute,” Sirius said.

“Sirius-” Remus began.

“Take only a minute,” Dumbledore said, with a tone of finality. Sirius fled from the room. It was as close to permission as he was going to get.

Sirius found Harry holed away in the room he'd been using with Ron. He looked at Sirius expectantly, considering he'd just taken the stairs two at a time to rush up here and was looking him over.

“Harry-” Sirius started, then finding himself unsure of how to continue. He walked over, looking down at his hands and catching a glimpse of redness, just by his oversized sleeves. He reached over, taking Harry's hand and turning it over. “What is that?”

“It's nothing,” Harry said, giving a tug against his arm, but Sirius was having none of it. He pulled his sleeve up – it looked like writing, Harry's writing, but it was scar red- but before he could read it, Harry said, “Don't-” tried to pull his hand away, and pulled the sleeve over it.

Inside Sirius' head, a flash memory went off (It had been too hot, it was the middle of July, and he'd rolled the sleeves on his shirt up, but his mother had been telling him off every time she saw it, it wasn't dignified, he was embarrassing her, she took his wrist firmly enough it'd hurt, and pulled them down again, “Don't,” he'd complained, when she fastened them magically so he wouldn't do it again, because he was uncomfortable, and embarrassed, and-) and he instantly let go. This was why he would never inflict himself on having children - he never wanted them to feel as if they were just objects to be pulled about, dressed up, paraded, and robbed of autonomy; and sometimes, he couldn't recognise that in himself until it was already happening.

“I'm sorry,” he said, as sincerely as he could. “I just want to know what that is.”

“It's not anything,” Harry said. “It was just Umbridge.”

That didn't make any sense at all. “Umbridge wrote on you?” It wasn't Umbridge's handwriting, and it didn't look much like it'd been inked on. “Harry, please?”

He watched as Harry went through several blotchy emotions without meeting his eye, before finding some sort of strength and lifting the jumper (he really needed some clothes that actually fit him, Sirius noted mentally). It was Harry's writing, alright. His stomach lurched, because that was not ink, that was scarring, what in the hell-

I must not tell lies.

Cold fury curdled in his stomach.

“Why didn't you say anything?” Sirius asked, quietly.

“I told you,” Harry said. “She made me do lines.”

“On yourself?” Sirius asked, with utter horror.

“No, but when I wrote it on paper, it'd come on my hand,” Harry muttered.

“You should have told me,” Sirius whispered, putting his finger on it lightly. At least he didn't wince. He must have at least treated it quickly.

“You would've come up,” Harry replied, not looking at him.

“Of course I would have!” Sirius said, fiercely, before he realised that this was the problem. Even now, it seemed like Harry was afraid of something happening to him far more than he was afraid of something happening to himself. It made his heart ache, and he vowed silently that he'd try to make it up to him, even if it took him the rest of his life. “Harry-” he started, then deflated. “I had to hear about it from Snape.”

It had the desired effect – Harry both smiled and looked embarrassed. “Sorry,” he shuffled. “Is the meeting over?”

Sirius shook his head. “No, and I better get back to it. I'll be up soon.”

“It is now that we must come to a different business all together, and discuss those who have requested to join our number.”

Sirius took a deep breath, aware that this may be something he was going to have to fight about. However, he was beaten to the punch by Arthur speaking.

“Both Fred and George have asked to have their names put forward,” he said quietly before Molly interrupted.

“They're too young!” Molly replied. “They're barely out of school!”

“They're eighteen,” Arthur replied, in a resigned tone that said perhaps he wasn't too happy about the idea either. “And this is their choice.”

“They're certainly innovative,” Kingsley said, in a pondering tone. “Assuming half of what is supposed to be coming out of that shop actually works.”

“It works,” Arthur confirmed, and if Sirius were not mistaken, there was a gleam of pride about that.

“They managed to listen into part of the meetings last year,” Sirius reminded them. “That takes cleverness.”

“And a complete disregard for the rules of secrecy,” Emmeline pointed out.

“Where is it you work again?” Sirius challenged.

Emmeline rolled her eyes. “I don't doubt that they're bright, nor talented. Just if they have the maturity to handle this. It takes a toll.”

“They wind people up, but they're loyal to a fault,” Bill said. “They just want to help. Give them a productive way to help, and they'll do that instead. They're better when they're focussed on something.”

In his experience, Sirius had to agree. Once they'd realised that Regulus had been putting up alarms, they'd been men possessed trying to trigger them all to see what they would do.

“If what you want is to play dangerous jokes,” Snape muttered.

“Many a Death Eater was taken down by a prank,” Sirius replied, coldly. It was true; when they had all stayed together, the four of them (he shoved down the anger for the moment and focussed on Remus, James, and himself) had decked out the safe houses in a variety of jokes and pranks that Death Eaters had a tendency to run into and get caught, just as surely as any Slytherin had when they'd been at school. Possibly because it was mostly the same people.

“We will vote,” Dumbledore said, placing the container for each of them to place an answer into. When they were done, he waved his wand and the colours, while mixed, indicated approval. “As we have agreed, we will extend them an invitation, should they choose to accept it.”

There were a few murmurs, and even Moody rolled his eye, but they seemed to accept it.

Now or never, Sirius thought to himself. He cleared his throat, “I think by now, everyone knows what I'm about to say.” Dumbledore nodded in assent. “When I first raised the issue of working with him almost a year ago, I couldn't have said for sure whether it was the right decision. But since then, most of you have gotten to form your own opinions of Regulus, and whether you believe he ought to be allowed entrance in the Order. So this time, I'm asking, and I do so feeling confident that it's the right decision.”

“What's changed?” Kingsley asked.

“I believe he has,” Sirius replied, ignoring a sound of derision from the greasiest corner of the room with great difficulty. “He has gone hunting for things to help bring Voldemort down; he has worked with a few of you to that end, and with Harry. He chose to join the foray at the Department of Mysteries knowing that it would cost him his secrecy, and when lives were in danger, faced not only Bellatrix Lestrange, the woman I've always feared would hold the sway to get to get him back in line, but Voldemort himself, to get Neville and Harry to safety. He tried to help with the Brockdale Bridge, and did help in Mulciber’s arrest. Every choice he has made has been in service of trying to take down Voldemort and protect the magical world, which has always been our mandate.”

“It's not his present that worries us,” Sturgis said, quietly. “It's his past.”

Sirius nodded, accepting that. “He's not claiming he didn't join the Death Eaters, nor do things that would – should – have gotten him a one way ticket to Azkaban. But he was also fifteen years old when he took that title, and-”

“FIFTEEN?” Molly squawked, horror clouding her face.

“Are you sure?” Sturgis asked, looking a little taken aback himself.

“I'm sure,” Sirius replied. “It was the year after I left, and he had a fool idea that he could just fix everything by trying to be what everyone wanted. What Bellatrix wanted was a Death Eater.”

“This is no longer an issue?” Kingsley inquired.

“It's something he's learned to deal with, and tries to combat,” Sirius said, as truthfully as he could. “We all have our weaknesses, but given the choice to collapse under the pressure, he rose to the occasion as a seventeen-year-old, and again, a few weeks ago. He has learned strength I didn't realise he had. He's trying to make up for his mistakes. I say we let him.”

“How touching,” Snape commented, with an eye roll.

“And it also gives him a nice way out of those consequences and a neat hiding place,” Mad-Eye said, in a hard voice.

“We're none of us angels, are we?” Sirius said, a little more barb to his tone. “We've all made mistakes, and some of them large enough that it would get us all in the shit if we were caught. Some of us already paid that price.” Unconsciously, his eyes drifted to Sturgis, who looked away from him. “If you want to be pragmatic about it, having a Death Eater piss off and come back without dying shows it can be done. He won't be the only one wanting out of that situation, and if we can deprive Voldemort of more of his followers, it sounds like a good deal to me.”

“You've probably spent more time with him than anyone else,” Hestia said, looking towards Emmeline. “What do you think?”

Emmeline looked down at the floor for a silent moment before she nodded. “I've changed my mind,” she said. “I can't say who he was before, only who he is now. Obsessive, a little reckless, but bright, willing to listen, and above all else, compassionate. He shows true remorse for what happened before and actively tries to be better. I don't believe we can ask more of him. If he wants to be here, to me, he has a place.”

“What makes you sure he's not playing some elaborate game?” Mad-Eye said.

“I'm not sure,” Emmeline said, openly. “But I don't believe he's faking what is clearly signs of trauma and distress. While I believe that these actions should have consequences, and they have, I don't believe they are all he can be judged by. We are all here for the same reason: to stop Voldemort. I believe him when he says the same.”

Kingsley still looked troubled. “I accept that about his past, but he clearly still holds some belief in pureblood elitism. I fear that this makes him susceptible.”

“He doesn't treat me differently,” Tonks replied, quietly.

“But he also hasn't gone out of his way to say differently,” Kingsley pointed out. “There's a difference between manners and beliefs.”

Tonks nodded at that.

“I don't think it's pureblood that's causing him pause, but his own.,” Sirius said, suddenly very aware that very few people in the Order had experience of a childhood like his own. “Legacy was always everything. You've all seen that blasted tapestry; it's a measure of immortality and belonging, and something to feel special about. I don't think it's that he truly thinks any blood is less than another, but more he's a bit pretentious about his own family tree.”

“The problem isn't that he thinks purebloods are better than any other blood,” Bill asked, “but that his own is special? Because that might be even worse.”

“No, and I think he knows that it's not really his blood that gives him merit,” Sirius said. Damn it, this was so hard to explain without context. “But it's a difficult thing to admit, that you're not as special as you think you are.”

“He broke away from the Death Eaters,” Emmeline said, and to his surprise, he found her glancing at Snape of all people. “It's plenty special.”

“It is,” Sirius agreed, glaring daggers at Snape to make sure he knew he was not included in that statement. He'd only fled when it looked like they were losing. “It's going to take time to get all the shit out of his head. Even I have been known to screw it up once in a while.”

“Really?” Tonks asked.

Sirius looked to Remus to confirm it, but he shied away. He'd been uncharacteristically silent the whole night, actually. “I once used that word on Dorcas while drunk off my ass at eighteen.” He grinned when he said it. “She hit me hard enough she almost knocked out a tooth, but she knew it was just something I was trying to rewrite in my head.” There was a soft murmur among the old guard, which even Dung seemed to wake from his half-slumber to grin about. “It takes time, and it takes challenging it, and it takes support. I know he's my brother, but I'd be the first one to tell you if I thought he was going to screw this up.”

“Albus?” McGonagall said.

“He was instrumental in helping verify some of the more obscure things about Voldemort,” Dumbledore replied, “but the decision, as always, lies with all of you as much as with me.” Once again, the pot was put into the room. “I suggest you cast your votes.”

Regulus was in the drawing room when the Order meeting ended, his attention flicking downward as the rustles and chatter rose from the ground floor. A sort of nervousness buzzed around him - nervousness born from the uncertainty of closed door conversations - and though his interactions with the individual Order members had been, for the most part, positive, he had little comparison point by which to judge how their opinions shook out when he was not physically present. Sirius had been there, and Emmeline, and Dumbledore, as well as Lupin and Tonks…

...and Severus, though Regulus wondered - uncomfortably - if Severus would be a vote in favour or a vote against, in a matter like this. His old friend had never been easy to read, but Severus seemed more a challenge than ever, on that front. For a member of the Order, he did not seem to like the organization very much.

Just a few minutes later, Regulus heard footsteps approaching, pattering a fresh drumming of nerves in his chest as he folded over the most recent letter from Julien, smoothing it against the side table. As he lifted his eyes to the doorway, he saw that it was his brother, stepping inside.

Sirius shut the door behind him, not a common thing for him to do in most rooms, let alone a more socially-inclined place like the drawing room. It seems they, too, were about to have a closed door conversation. He sat down before he spoke. "You have an extended invitation," Sirius said, "Normally, this would call for being pulled into the charm, but since you're already here, it's a bit anticlimactic."

Slowly, Regulus let loose a sigh, breathing out some of the wrangled anxiety bunched up in his mind. They had said yes - most of them, at least - and though he did not like to show how hurtful it would have felt for the Order to shut the door in his face now, he could not help the cooling wash of relief. With a nod, Regulus responded, “A bit… but truthfully, with all of the excitement lately, I think I am quite alright with that.”

"Yes," Sirius said, frowning despite the affirmation. "So was it simply Narcissa's son, or the woman herself, that caused you and Harry to linger in Diagon yesterday?"

“Harry said he needed owl supplies for Hedwig, so I took him,” Regulus explained, supposing that Harry must have mentioned their outing. “I did take the opportunity to speak with Narcissa briefly, as Andromeda recommended, but we weren't there for long, and I sent Harry straight into Eeylops.”

Sirius gave a bark of laughter, "And you think he actually went straight to Eeylops?"

Crinkling his nose, Regulus responded a little defensively, “I watched him walk to the shop, but I did not follow him inside. He said he had things to buy.”

Sirius shook his head, but he didn't seem particularly annoyed about it. "He must have doubled back the moment you weren't looking. Impressive, but I'd have done the same thing, of course. Did you manage to speak to Narcissa about her son?"

“We did not discuss him specifically,” Regulus said, thinking back to his cousin and her varying degrees of distress. They had both expressed their concerns for Draco, in regards to the resurfacing war, but nothing at length. “The conversation was quite short, and mostly focused on my situation in particular. Why?”

Sirius clenched his jaw, then ran a hand over his face. "Because Harry saw him showing one of his friends something on his arm that he seemed to think was worthy of boasting about," he said, quietly.

Immediately, Regulus deflated, rubbing a hand over his face in a subconscious mirror of his brother, mouth falling to a sudden, deepening frown. In his mind's eye, he could see despair darkening Narcissa's face, grey eyes wet as a thunderstorm.

‘I don't want you to get hurt, but Draco-’

(If Draco had joined, then his danger-)

'Why...did you join?’

She had looked so upset, but Regulus had thought perhaps it was just distress for her husband; mere weeks had passed, but without a word from the boy himself, Regulus could imagine all too well the motivations a teenager in his position might feel, and dread turned hot in his stomach.

“I was afraid that would happen,” Regulus admitted, uncertain if he was more angry with the Dark Lord, or with himself for not prioritising an intervention sooner when he saw this coming a year prior. “She was very distressed, but I assumed it was a continued distress on behalf of Lucius, and fear for how my and Lucius's behaviour as of late might affect their situation in a general sense, but I did not realise it had already escalated to such an extent…”

"I know," Sirius agreed. "But it doesn't change anything. The quicker Voldemort goes down, the less chance of that kid ruining his life and ending up like his father."

Miserably, Regulus nodded, and though it was simple enough to say, ruin could befall a teenage Death Eater all too quickly, especially if there was something to prove. (‘You’re going to make it worse.’) He grimaced. “I suppose that is one means of motivation.”

"What else can you do?" Sirius reasoned, before a completely situationally inappropriate smile spread across his face. "Short of going over there, dragging him out despite both Narcissa and her sister, knocking him out, and waiting the war out."

“I am still puzzling out options,” Regulus answered with a thoughtful frown. “I had hoped to outpace the Mark… and perhaps if I had acted more quickly…” He shook his head.

"He wouldn't have listened," Sirius said, sounding extremely sure. "I'm not saying the similarities aren't disturbing: a sixteen-year-old with a family name viewed as tarnished, wishing to return it to good standing and trying to protect what remains of his family. But he is not you - you need more information before you start planning exit strategies for a boy you've never met."

“Well, technically-” Regulus paused the thought, and though he recalled his brief conversation with Draco within the walls of Hogwarts, he was not certain if he ought to admit as much. The interaction had not suggested Draco particularly wanted a way out, but Draco would not know what was coming… “I just don't like the idea of leaving him to it.”

"He'll be at Hogwarts in a month and a half," Sirius said, apparently not latching onto to the ‘technically’. "It should buy a little time, especially if Harry decides he wants to keep stalking him. It just means trying to work a little more quickly. I don't want to rush Harry into anything he isn't ready for, but I also don't want circumstances to do it for me, and he’s already had to fight Voldemort more than once."

Regulus nodded, sighing heavily. “More quickly would be preferable, yes.”

"Speaking of," Sirius said, sitting forward with his elbows on his knees. "Don't do that again. If Harry wants to go somewhere, fine, but someone in the Order must always know where he is if he isn't here or at school. I don't fancy you going up against Bellatrix again any time soon, and I don't know when the next attack will come ,or if Voldemort will show up himself again."

Regulus lifted his brow. “Not that I don't think he should be kept safe, and I imagine well that the Dark Lord is offended that the Killing Curse didn't work - but doesn't that seem a little bit excessive?”

"No." Sirius left no room at all for discussion on that. "Harry was marked for death the moment he was born. Back when Voldemort was powerful last time, by the time Harry was a year old, the attacks were coming every few weeks. That could've been Wormtail, but I take no risks here. Now that he's back to the Boy Who Lived in the press, it could start again."

Regulus's brow further thoughtfully. “What do you mean, ‘marked for death the moment he was born’?”

Sirius sighed heavily and lifted his eyes to the door before looking back. "Maybe not from birth, but from that first attack, we knew." He swallowed thickly. "Voldemort's downfall was foreseen in 1980. The record of the prophecy could only be retrieved from the Department of Mysteries by the subject of the prophecy itself - Harry. She saw everything - the scar, the fights James and Lily had against him, and...that it must be by his hand, or he'll survive."

A look of dawning realisation tugged on Reguluss features. Prophecy. “So the prophecy we whisked away from the Department of Mysteries detailed Harry as the one who must kill the Dark Lord, or the Dark Lord would inevitably come back again?” That did not seem right - the horcruxes were the thing keeping the Dark Lord ‘alive,’ were they not? Though Regulus supposed, technically, Harry had been the one to kill him as a baby, too. Perhaps the Dark Lord merely wanted to protect against the possibility of this boy successfully killing him multiple times… Normally, this would seem paranoid, even by Regulus’s own standards, but he supposed if a baby could manage to kill him once, perhaps paranoia was not the correct word for it. “If all of you were aware of the prophecy from the start, why was having the physical record important? Was there something else to it?”

"It's a long story," Sirius admitted, fidgeting as he often did when he was uncomfortable. "When the prophecy was made, it listed a set of details, not names. Voldemort heard about the prophecy, but only part of it. He knew that it would be a baby born at the end of July, whose parents had fought him three times and lived. Only James and Lily, and Frank and Alice could claim that and had a baby born at the end of July. All he knew was that either Harry or Neville would have, to quote, the power to vanquish him. He stacked his odds on Harry being the greater threat, but he still has never heard the full prophecy, and as you can imagine, he wants to. The record wasn't made by us. I didn't hear it directly; I was told by James, who was told by Dumbledore, who was present when it happened. The record was by the Ministry, so Voldemort had to figure out a way to get it out. That's what the fight was about."

“I see.” With care, Regulus filed the information away in his mind, thinking that it was all rather more dramatic than anyone had sufficiently communicated, even without detail. He did not much like the idea of ‘vanquishing’ the Dark Lord being left up to a teenager, much less one that was meant to be in his brother’s care, but he could not help but entertain a curiosity as to whether the prophecy related in any way to the horcruxes, given that it was telling of the Dark Lord’s end. “So the Order knows the full extent of the prophecy now?”

"Dumbledore didn't play it for everyone to listen to, no. Harry's heard it, now." Sirius winced at the thought of it, perhaps not keen on even that. "I don't like that it makes it sound as if this is something he alone can do. I didn't think it could be harder to think of than when he was small enough to fit in the crook of my arm, but seeing him now...He's fought so much already - the thing attaching itself to his Defense teacher, the diary, in the graveyard, and then Voldemort possessing him in the Department of Mysteries. Whatever it is that's inside him, whatever powers were given to him that night, I don't care. I just want him to survive this, and that means that you always, always take back up."

Regulus fought a shudder - Whatever it is that’s inside him - and steeled his expression to any reaction. It was, perhaps, executed a little too stonily, but the fresh wave of dread was not something he wanted to draw Sirius’s attention to more readily than it already was. Though the prospect of a horcrux lodging into baby Harry Potter was still theoretical at best, he could not help the plaguing suspicion that it might well be true. With the chaos of so many other concerns, he had buried the unpleasant thought, but if it was true, there had to be some sort of implications...perhaps implications that the prophecy might hint at, if an informed ear were to hear them.

With a steadying breath, Regulus nodded. “I apologise for the lightness of security. I did not realise his situation was quite so dire and targeted.”

"I know. I'm not upset with you. I just couldn't explain without drawing Order information into it, and didn't expect Harry to wander." Sirius nodded, and seemed to settle himself from the tightness he'd been holding. "You should come downstairs. Molly's decided to cook, and now that they're allowed to, I'm positive the resident swots will have a thousand things they'll want to ask your opinion on in regards to their Order -related research. Assuming the shuffling I heard a few minutes ago wasn't Remus legging it again, that is."

Though the thought of the Dark Lord’s fragmented soul lodging itself into Harry’s head was not fully brushed from Regulus’s mind, he felt some measure of a lightening smile on his face. “I would like that. The research, that is, not Remus legging it. I’m sure I can muster an opinion or two.”

"Yeah, I thought you might." Sirius snorted, obviously amused. He stood up with a shake, perhaps trying to get the pervasive heaviness of the conversation away from him. "Come on. Catch enough of them, and you can try and figure out who voted yes and who voted no, I know you're dying to know."

At the corner, Regulus’s mouth quirked up. “You’re right. I am, a bit. What was the ratio of yes to no?” he asked as he, too, stood from his chair.

“Go do your own dirty work,” Sirius replied, waving him off. “I want to go check on Harry. I came running up earlier, and I think I upset him.”

Regulus thought to himself that it would be annoying to try to pre-verify his accuracy if he did not know the ratio, but he supposed he could manage. He could not speak to Harry’s degree of upset, so instead, he said, “Alright, then. I shall see what I can deduce.”

Downstairs, a portion of the Order remained in the dining room. Regulus could hear their voices before he could see their faces, though no voice carried so much as to bother his mother's portrait as he slipped past. A strange nervousness (anxiety? embarrassment?) pattered in his chest, though he filtered the feeling off of his face before stepping through the still-open door.

Severus was the first person he noticed to be missing, just as he always was, following an Order meeting, but Regulus felt a stab of hurt, nonetheless. Hogwarts was closed for the summer, and no burning call had snaked up his own arm, so the likelihood of some pressing engagement was low. It had not occurred to Regulus that perhaps he could have asked Severus for his thoughts on the Order, from the perspective of a Death Eater gone spy, but Regulus felt so certain that joining was his best option that asking for (what was certain to be) a negative option had not even crossed his mind. There was no face to study, but Regulus wondered again if Severus had voted to admit or reject.

About half of the Order's numbers remained, from the look of it. Hestia, Sturgis, Dedalus, and the three attending Weasleys were chatting amongst themselves in smaller pairings and bunches - and Emmeline, of course, though the current living arrangement supported her lingering tendencies even more thoroughly than in the past.

Perhaps, then, it was natural that she was the first person to notice him, breaking away from her conversation with Sturgis to walk over. She smiled warmly. “Excited or nervous?”

Some measure of tension melted from Regulus's face at her approach as a small, slanting smile lightened his own expression. “I haven't decided yet.”

“Just ask your questions when you have them. We won't bite,” Emmeline promised. “We may be vigilantes flouting the letter of the law, but we're not rude.”

“It has been a mostly amicable experience, thus far,” he said, though his experiences with Auror Moody and 'Dung’ were not exceedingly positive, and interactions with Severus were confusing at best, the majority of the members had been somewhere between neutral and pleasant, which was sufficient for him, at least as things were. “And I expect there will be no shortage of questions.”

“Is there anything burning that I can help with now?” Emmeline asked.

Regulus thought of Harry's scar, of the horcruxes and the prophecy. Strangely, he found himself curious what insight Emmeline might have on something like the horcruxes - whether from the realm of an Unspeakable, or merely the extent of her own thoughts - but surrounded by lingering members of the Order did not feel like the time or place. “The most pressing might be a question for Dumbledore,” Regulus responded, tipping his head. “For the moment, I suppose it's a matter of settling into the idea.”

“He has Defense interviews next week, so he should be around after that,” Emmeline replied, giving her head a shake at him. “But come join in, if you want - actually, you’ve just reminded me of something. Sturgis!”

Sturgis turned around mid-chew and put the back of his hand to his face, “Mhmph?”

Emmeline apparently spoke that particular language. “Do you still have that workshop in Peckham?”

Sturgis nodded and swallowed at the same time. He shot a look in Arthur Weasley’s direction, then back again.

“Any chance under all that junk you’ve still got Benjy’s camera?” Emmeline asked.

“Probably?” he said.

“Can I have it, if you do?” Emmeline replied.

“Sure?” Sturgis asked more than answered.

“Excellent,” Emmeline brightened at the idea. “Next time we go space-hunting, we can take our own pictures. Possibly also one or two for posterity to prove you’ve tried camping.”

“I’m not so certain that camping is something I want proof of,” Regulus quipped back wryly, though his voice was coloured with amusement as they shifted back toward the group.

"Perhaps there's an outdoorsy person hiding within you," Emmeline replied, with fake sincerity. “You just need camping to bring it out.”

"Who's going camping?" Bill piped up, drawing attention to the two of them.

"I thought it'd be a good way to see the Northern Lights," Emmeline said, with a bit of defensiveness tinging her tone. "And he's never been."

"You hate camping," Sturgis frowned. "You said if you wanted to sleep in an insect ridden, foul smelling, noisy place without drinkable water, you'd go back to living in Knockturn."

"When I was twenty!" Emmeline huffed.

"Sounds exciting." Bill smiled.

Emmeline seemed to take that as a cue to smile back. "It's just some stargazing. You don't see them properly in the city."

"So you'd rather go to a remote area up north to watch the stars?" Hestia raised her eyebrows, looking as if she was trying to fight a laugh. "How secluded."

Emmeline looked daggers at her. "That is the point of getting away from the city."

“Indeed. One must find a remote spot for something like the Northern Lights,” Regulus leveled, thinking that Hestia did look quite a bit like she was teasing them, even without acknowledgment of Emmeline's sudden scowl. Though he could feel a little fluster within himself (secluded was an accurate assessment), his manner was mild and matter-of-fact as he added, “If the extensive, unnatural lighting was not enough of a barrier, there is the persistent fog and the comparative distance.”

"Aye," Sturgis said, interrupting whatever conversation Emmeline and Hestia seemed to be having with their eyebrows. "That'll be the dementors."

The statement seemed to sober the room. "Then it's true," Hestia said, glumly. "They are no longer guarding Azkaban."

Bill shook his head, "No, Tonks said tonight it's why the Aurors spread so thin."

With a soured expression, Regulus felt cold dread trickling in little streams. No dementors guarding Azkaban meant that the Death Eaters sent there were significantly less contained - and however much he had wished better for Narcissa and her son, in regards to losing Lucius, that was not what Regulus had in mind. “That is…very unfortunate.”

"That's what the fog's about," Sturgis made a face of disdain. "Breeding dementors."

Bill looked a little disturbed. "I think I'll see Mum and Dad home, just in case."

"Good idea," Hestia replied. "Poor Tonks and Kingsley."

"Poor anyone who don't have a workable patronus," Bill sighed. "Mum has terrible trouble with her concentration, she worries."

Hestia nodded. "How is yours coming along, Regulus? Remus mentioned he'd done a little tutoring."

“I believe it is going well,” Regulus answered with a nod of acknowledgment, chilling though it was to imagine a dementor breeding ground without a corporeal patronus at his disposal. (A situation he might have found himself in, had this occurred a year prior. He did not much like the thought.) “We covered the corporeal patronus at the beginning of the year, and more recently, the mechanics of the patronus as a means of communication.”

"And yet, you're only now joining the Order," Bill said, with a smile. "It's like you did all the extracurriculars first."

"Are you sure you're not a Ravenclaw?" Sturgis asked.

"He's definitely a Slytherin," Emmeline replied for him, "Everything from the ornaments to the bedroom furnishings."

Hestia went pink and coughed, "Bedroom?"

"Oh, Merlin." Emmeline rolled her eyes.

“She is implying nothing inappropriate,” Regulus clarified, smothering a rush of embarrassment, thinking that it was probably best to put distance between themselves and the comment but unable to stop himself from turning his glance to Emmeline to ask: “Though I can’t recall discussing bedroom decor, so how do even know that?”

"Were you being nosy again?" Hestia asked, clearly not put off by the comments at all.

"No! Well, yes, usually, I am, but not in this case. There’s a sign on the door, and it seemed a bit rude to ignore," Emmeline said, with enough long-windedness to show her fluster before she turned her attention back to him. "I know yours the same way I know Sirius's is red and gold - he said so. We've been friends since we were at school together. I think I've heard all of the Sirius Black Rants About His Childhood, Purism, and the General Terribleness of Slytherins monologues at least thrice. I imagine of all of us who are still here, only Remus has me beat."

After the briefest thoughtful pause, Regulus granted a nod. Though he probably ought to be more offended, somehow it just seemed obvious, when put that way. “I can believe that.”

"Some of us have some respect for personal boundaries." Emmeline looked towards Hestia. "Honestly, Hes. No wonder Tonks ran; you're turning into a bigger gossip than Rosmerta."

“Tonks?” Regulus lifted his brow. Aesthetic and glum demeanor aside, he hadn’t noticed a change in her attendance from the outside. In light of Emmeline’s comment, he wondered if perhaps Tonks did not like Hestia’s teasing, though she did not seem particularly delicate in that respect.

Emmeline soon sated his curiosity, leaning over to whisper quietly, "She has a little crush, and it's making her gloomy."

"I think it's sweet." Hestia smiled, clearly taking no notice at all. "Maybe a quick fling would do them some good. It's not as if she proposed."

"I suppose that's a step up. Everyone was getting married at the drop of a hat last time," Emmeline replied, with a shrug. "It was like they couldn't wait, in case they didn't make it."

"Most of them were right," Sturgis replied, soberingly.

"Never mind killing them, you just killed the celebratory mood," Emmeline replied. "You'd think it was you lot planning a funeral, not me, and I'm hexing anyone who asks me how I am."

Bill broke the silence. "What are we celebrating?"

"New recruits, new beginnings, and the research parties to come." Emmeline did a toast movement with her glass.

At that, Regulus offered a little smile, and for all the anxieties that had bundled, for at least a moment he had forgotten to care what the acceptance ratio had been, instead settling into the clinking ‘cheers’ to follow.

Sirius was surprised to find Harry asleep with his face smushed up against the window and his glasses askew. In the moment, Sirius was struck by how much like James he looked, and he had to try and shake it off. This wasn't the time for his chest to ache; they were celebrating. He thought about waking him and moving him, but he supposed Harry was comfortable how he was, and he could check on him before they all went up. It seemed Remus had indeed left without saying goodbye. Not at all usual for him. Maybe he was more spooked by Greyback than Sirius had originally thought.

At the bottom of the stairs, he came face to face with Molly and steeled himself for a barrage. Instead, she merely asked after Harry and asked if he was still planning on going to Burrow. Sirius wasn't sure, as they hadn't talked about it, but he was sure he'd want to see Ron either way and promised he'd remind Harry to owl about it tomorrow, as he was asleep now. He then found Bill and Regulus being absorbed by the Ravenclaw collective and chatting quietly. He was surprised to find his younger brother looked neither out of place nor particularly uncomfortable. He had thought perhaps he'd get on well with that group, but seeing him chat, seeing him the day before just automatically helping Emme with her books, or seeing him amused and showing it openly - it was strange. In a good way.

It just made him wonder how much he'd managed to miss in the last two and a half weeks.

"What am I missing?" Sirius asked, looking at them.

"Just talking about quickie marriages," Emmeline explained, taking a drink of what looked worryingly like water.

In a stark moment, Sirius thought of Tonks in horror. "Why, who's pregnant?"

"No one," Bill replied. "But I am getting married. We just haven't announced it."

Racking his brain to remember who he'd said he was going out with, back when they were snowball fighting. "To Fleur Delacour?"

Bill nodded in assent.

"Congratulations," Sirius said, "She's terrifying."

“That’s Sirius Black for ‘she’s lovely’,” Emmeline translated, which was true and wasn’t. The girl was a Triwizard champion; she was formidable; and if she was working at Gringotts, she must be bright, too.

Regulus then turned his attention to Sirius in turn. “How is Harry?”

Pleased that he thought to ask, Sirius smiled. “He’s fine. He’s tired, but it’s been a long year for him. Not to mention he ended up having to deal with Voldemort setting up camp in his head through his OWL exams, and he’s heart set on the Auror programme.”

“OWLs are no joke,” Hestia replied with a shudder. “One of the girls in my year ended up with a T.”

“I think our father would have asked for a paternity check if we’d gotten below an E,” Sirius chuckled.

Regulus's mouth turned up a little at the corner. “You have to admit, it would have been a cause for alarm.”

"Yes, the two family trademarks of either being academic or bit of a slag." Sirius nodded with a fake solemnity. Even Andromeda had still been a teenager when she fell pregnant with Tonks, not to mention their uncle, grandfather, great-great-great grandfather, and the list did tend to go on.

"That explains it," Sturgis said, which meant someone needed to get him away from the bubbly because it must be going to his head.

"I don't know which you're implying I am, but either way, I'm offended." Honestly, he wasn't sure what was worse - being a musky library dweller or not understanding what contraception was.

Sturgis shrugged. "Just what people said, reputation-wise."

"If I've ever had a reputation for swottish behaviour, I'll eat my own wand," Sirius grumbled, because he had been careful not to, thanks very much. "And Merlin only knows where people would have gotten the idea I can't keep my clothes on."

"Probably the streaking," Emmeline made an extremely uncomplimentary face. Beside her, Regulus's expression went a little bit judgemental, flicking a glance over.

"It was once, twenty years ago,." Sirius rolled his eyes. It had been a long running joke between himself and Marlene; occasionally he forgot they'd been close friends.

Emmeline gave an exaggerated shudder. "And I'm still traumatised. No book has ever traumatised me, and I read banned books all the time." She snapped her head to Regulus. "Oh, I need to get the ones I gave you back, but I can get more once they're done trying to comb through the Department without dying."

“Of course.” Regulus tipped his head to a nod. “I can be patient.”

"I imagine they'll be quick," Emmeline shrugged. "People wander about down there and touch things they shouldn't. That a group of OWL students-"

"-and Ginny and Luna," Bill interjected.

"Luna's the only one I don't know," Sirius interrupted, recalling his conversation earlier with Harry.

"Luna Lovegood. She's in Ginny's year," Bill replied. "A bit odd, but they're fond of her."

"Her father does the Quibbler," Emmeline said. "That's where the article Harry did was originally posted before the Prophet picked it up. Don't read the rest of it. I love unravelling a good conspiracy as much as anyone, but I like to think I ground it in reality. Besides, we've already established Regulus is the musical person in your family and thus has a much better chance of secretly being Stubby Boardman than you do."

Sirius half-choked on his drink at the image, bending over and coughing to stop himself from outright laughing.

“That would have been one way to fabricate a cover,” Regulus said wryly, shaking his head.

"Bill?" Arthur's voice came from behind.

"I better see them home." Bill waved his goodbyes, glancing around at the group of them.

"We ought to pack up as well," Hestia said. "Going about in the dark doesn't seem like a great idea. Research on Friday?"

"Friday," Emmeline confirmed.

"I'll walk down with you," Sturgis offered. Privately, Sirius thought Hestia would probably be more formidable in a fight, but he supposed people could change in over a decade. Sturgis had been part of Harry’s guard. "See you."

With the dwindling number as people began to head out into the night, Sirius managed to calm his own budding anxiety about Remus leaving without saying a word with distraction. "Did you figure out what Snape had his bloomers in a bunch over?" he asked Emmeline.

Emmeline shook her head, "It's not as if we really socialise, but I can't think of anything I've done specifically."

Lifting his eyebrows, Regulus looked between them. “Did something happen?”

"Snape usually saves his jeers for me," Sirius sighed, dramatically before leaning into the shudder. "No, I can't even pretend that."

Emmeline pointedly ignored him. "He was just being a little more-"

"- of a prick-" Sirius interrupted.

"- sharp than usual with me," Emmeline said. "But so help me if it's because he was friends with Mulciber at school, he can be as sharp as he likes about it. He deserved to get the book thrown at him."

Expression souring to a frown, Regulus nodded - slight but firm. “It needed to happen. Pardon my bluntness, but he had already committed two murders under that roof and presumably intended you to be a third, so it isn’t fair for Severus to treat you sharply over it.” The frown slanted downward a little further.

"I understand the difficulty in letting go of friends despite what they've done," Emmeline said, though her expression hardened. "But the problem with that is that Mulciber was always like that! I hear that voice, and I instantly know I want to take points away. What's an appropriate number of points for murdering two innocent people?"

"McGonagall and Flitwick did give points to the DA from the battle," Sirius replied. He couldn't answer that question. First and foremost because he refused to climb into Snape's head, but also because there came a time to let people go. Preferably into several pieces. "Though with Umbridge, I think the Gryffindor streak has broken. Still won Quidditch; apparently, Ginny's a decent seeker."

"If we're devolving into sport, I'm going to retire," Emmeline said, and to Sirius's shock, she actually patted his brother on his left arm. "I'll get the books in the morning."

“That suits just as well,” Regulus agreed with another brisk nod, punctuated with a slight smile, “Parting with these treasured tomes will be a challenge, but I shall search myself for methods of coping in the interim.”

“Do they involve pelting me with questions?” Emmeline asked, with a put upon huff.

Is she - flirting?

“Probably,” Regulus granted.

"I can think of worse ways to spend my time."

Head duck, teasing, extraneous smiling - she is, she's flirting! Sirius opened his mouth, perhaps to say some version of 'what the fuck,' but instead he just blinked at her with his mouth gaping like a guppy. Not only did she not wind him up about it, but she didn't seem to really notice. What the hell happened when he was in St. Mungo's?

"Uh, Emme?"

She looked back at him, "Yes?"

He had no idea how to even start with this. Something in his brain had short-circuited, so instead he just said, "Sleep well."

Emmeline smiled and nodded, "Thank you."

When she looked back to his brother, Regulus managed a small smile and an acknowledging nod of his own before adding a mild, “Goodnight.”

Even as the house fell silent at the departure of the remaining Order members, Regulus could not wholly shift his mind from what Sirius and Emmeline had said about Severus, indicating a greater degree of unpleasant behaviour than usual. At the back of his mind, a small bundle of guilt pricked sharply, recalling those hours following Mulciber’s capture. Regulus had thought of Avery, still an active Death Eater if the Department of Mysteries was an accurate representation of the situation, but he had not thought to concern himself too thoroughly with how Snape might feel about it. Snape had never acted particularly sentimental about any of them - maybe towards Evan, if anyone - but there was a solidarity Regulus remembered all too well.

Regulus had breached that code, and suddenly, he was markedly less motivated to start an uncomfortable conversation with Severus. Did his old friend realise the roles that had been played? Did he blame Emmeline alone for daring to survive an attack and aim to see that assailant locked away for murdering her parents? Or was she merely the only one available to scowl at, inappropriate though it was?

(Did Severus even know Regulus had alerted the Aurors?)

Stepping into the drawing room, Regulus was slightly surprised to notice his brother had come along too, but he did not wait to see what subject Sirius had in mind before he spoke: “Not that it makes much difference in the grand scheme of things, but is Severus aware that I was present for Mulciber’s arrest too?” Even as he spoke, he was striding over to the far bookcase, plucking one from the shelf, though it was not one of the texts nicked from the Ministry - rather, a replacement for those that would soon be gone.

“Dunno, I missed a bit of it when I went to check up on Harry - which may have been by design, since it was him that told me to - so you'll have to ask Emmeline. Not that you seem to have much of a problem with that.” Sirius's voice came from behind him, along with the usual noise of him fiddling with something. “Were you in here earlier?”

“We had a conversation in here not even an hour ago,” Regulus said dryly. When he glanced back over his shoulder, he could see Sirius was standing by one of the side tables and holding a piece of parchment. With a small jolt of surprise, Regulus realised that he must have left the letter from Julien, distracted as he was with the Order’s dismissal.

Sirius either refused to acknowledge or was too distracted to engage the jibe. "This is yours?"

“Most likely,” Regulus said a little uncomfortably as he tucked the book and walked over.

"Rian?" Sirius asked.

Crinkling his expression, Regulus felt that discomfort settle more firmly, feeling the temptation to lie about it but brushing it off almost as quickly as it had come. Logically speaking, there was no reason to lie, separate though the two experiences remained - not unless he wanted to run back, but the longer Regulus's had stayed in England, the less that felt like an option. “It seemed prudent to use a different name. ‘Regulus’ is what one might call ‘distinctive’ for anyone looking.”

"And Julien is a...friend?" Sirius said the word, as if were some sort of absurd concept.

Leveling a look, Regulus responded in a slightly deadpan tone, “Yes. I do have those.”

"Don't give me that tone; you don't talk about it," Sirius replied, a hint of defense slipping into his tone. "Does this mean you're planning on disappearing again?"

Pressing his lips to a line, Regulus shook his head with a little more certainty. “You shouldn't read other people's letters - but no, I'm not planning on disappearing.”

"We've established my manners are terrible," Sirius said. He put the parchment down again, though. "Are you sure?"

Regulus took the parchment without missing a beat, folding it neatly and sticking it in his pocket this time. “I’m sure. The circumstances are quite different now.”
"The stakes are higher," Sirius said, with a slight frown. "It's not that I don't want you to have a way out, if everything goes south. Nor do I want you to die, or something worse. I'm all too familiar with the consequences of trying to do the right thing."

“As am I,” Regulus responded with a thin smile. “But it is the high stakes that makes following through so important.”

Sirius shrugged forcefully, as he looked back down at where the letter had been. "So are you," he half mumbled, letting it sit in the air.

Embarrassingly sentimental though the comment might be, Regulus felt a warm rush of fondness and the comforting steel of security. For months, consistency had been built like a bridge, plank after plank, and what was initially so strange had begun to feel familiar again - a brother in manner and interaction, rather than in blood alone. When Regulus had left as a terrified teenager, Sirius had felt no more like home than the family he was suddenly running from. His self-designated task had been his singular focus - for which seeking help had been unimaginable - and though options might show themselves in hindsight, he had felt so trapped in the lonely, gaping uncertainty about whether his brother cared that much about him at all.

The past year had made that perception almost unrecognisable, and he scarcely knew how to express it.

“You are too,” Regulus began after the stretch of silence, “If there’s a chance that we can end the war properly, this time, and restore some semblance of family at the same time, then I plan to pursue it.”

"I think you're soft in the head if you believe you can fix fractures this bad," Sirius huffed, but surprisingly, there was just a calm acceptance behind the words. "But I'm just letting you know right now if you disappear again, I'm not going to believe it. I'm just going to assume something's wrong, and knowing me, probably do something stupid, reckless, and unwarranted. So if you get scared, or it's too much, or you just decide that you were happier elsewhere, it's fine, but don't just poof into thin air again."

With a sobered half-smile - pressed to a slanting line - Regulus nodded. “I will give proper notice next time, should the circumstances call for it.” For a beat, Regulus paused, and though it was not quite the same as what Sirius was referring to, he thought of Julien’s letter and the nudging prospect of retrieving the venom in person to minimise the likelihood of interception. It was not as desperate, nor urgent, as it had been at the time of his initial request, now that Dumbledore was once again headmaster over the castle, and thus the hidden chamber within it...but he could not shake the fact that there could be quite a few horcruxes left, and there was no guarantee of the harvestable venom until he set eyes on it himself. (This...this, he knew.)

“But...speaking of leaving and the notice that goes along with it...” Regulus began, a little vaguely. France and England were so carefully separated in his mind - and for the sake of those in France, it was best to by and large keep it that way - but although there were some secrets that must be maintained and protected...he felt that perhaps there were some that could be shared, in moderation, if only to feel a little less torn in two. “I have need to retrieve something in person, so I must take a brief trip to France in the next week or so.” An awkward pause, and then, “Should you like to stretch your free, non-convicted legs, you are welcome to come. You needn’t feel obligated, as I know you presently have Harry to look after... but the invitation is open, nonetheless.”

Sirius looked at him blankly, before snapping his fingers. "That's what that accent is. Are you," he did a double take, "Are you telling me you just went to one of the houses over and figured no one would go back? Correctly, I'm assuming, but that...that's pretty funny. Your French has always been better than mine, unless you needed to swear." None of this was an answer, but was perhaps more him working through his own reaction to being asked. "But how did you get the portkey? Unless you took the boat."

“I didn’t take the boat,” Regulus responded, a little too quickly. (It had been a train, with someone else’s ticket…) “Transportation was a matter of questionable legality, but I have been very law-abiding since then.”

Sirius smirked suddenly, "‘Til now."

“With a bunch of vigilantes having secret meetings in my house, my plausible deniability was probably shaky at best, anyway,” Regulus quipped back as his mouth flickered up to a more subtle mirror of his brother’s expression.

"If anyone could have talked your way out of it," Sirius said, with a solemn nod. "I would have the utmost faith in you."

“I appreciate your confidence in my persuasive capabilities,” Regulus said lightly, though a very different matter of persuasion rose to the surface as he thought of his own looming legal ‘situation.’ With Sirius cleared, Regulus supposed that was the next order of business, but as much as he wanted to get it over with, anxiety prickled more readily, the closer it drew. “Though I would rather have no need to use them.”

"Your persuasive abilities are annoyingly good," Sirius replied. "I find myself knocking more times than I care to admit, and Mum, Grandfather, several tutors and professors, and even Remus have yet to the manage the same. If you can work that miracle, I think you'll be fine." He indicated the no longer visible letter. "What did you ask your friend for?"

For a moment, Regulus was paused in silence, the venom and the horcruxes pattering against the walls of his mind. His brother was not known for his discretion, and the last thing he needed was for the acquisition of basilisk venom to come up in conversation, even amongst the Order. He did not suspect treachery of any in their numbers - not even Severus, though he was the most vulnerable, if the Dark Lord were to successfully root around in his mind. Occlumency was not infallible…

“That answer depends upon your willingness to maintain informational discretion,” Regulus eventually settled.

"I know we like to joke that I run my mouth - and I do - but I'm fully capable of keeping my mouth shut these days." Sirius winced. "I'm not fifteen anymore. Save for confirming to the one person who already knew what your boggart was that it was that, and for a good reason, and in private, I don't imagine you've heard a peep about anything you've said all year."

Regulus nodded, and surprising though it was, Sirius was right about that fact. “Basilisk venom,” he revealed after only a few more seconds of hesitation, “which should not be discussed inside or outside of the Order, for the moment, with the exception of Dumbledore. The matter is a delicate one, and what might seem like a harmless comment could ripple in problematic ways. Containment seems to be the best option.”

"Oh, you want to smuggle a dangerous, regulated substance into the country." Sirius shrugged, looking a little more chipper at the idea. "You should have just said so."

Regulus’s mouth flattened. “Well...yes. I suppose so.”

"Sure," Sirius grinned. "Sounds like fun."

“Don’t make me regret it,” Regulus said, though his mouth flickered a little with some baffling mixture of anxiety and happiness.

“What are you doing?”

From the kitchen doorway, Sirius could see both Emmeline and Harry at the kitchen table. Harry froze mid-chew, while Emmeline barely looked up from the Prophet. (Merlin alive, there's two of them.) She wiggled her toast around in the general direction of the door. “Eating breakfast,” Emmeline said, finally looking up. “Not everyone can subsist on bluster and bull-headedness alone, so we do this wonderfully civilised thing called breakfast.”

“I thought Ravenclaw's were meant to be witty,” Sirius said, looking more at Harry. “Alright, Harry?”

“Fibe,” which Sirius took to mean 'fine, but with his mouth full'.

Taking stock of him, there was little denying Harry looked better. He had put on a little weight, as it seemed to yo-yo everytime he went back to his aunt and uncle's. Having realised that the only thing he had in his size that wasn't falling apart was Christmas jumpers that had no place in July, he'd cleared time in his oh so busy schedule to take him shopping in the arcade. He showed a preference for muggle clothing in the holidays, much as Sirius himself had at his age, so Madame Malkin's could wait. Besides, he was hitting his growth spurt, and they'd need to get something he'd actually fit into in three months. It was a peculiar and mundane experience all at once; though they did go to Diagon and Hogsmeade for the occasional outfit or school related robes, most of their clothing growing up had simply seemed to appear tailored to need. When he'd indulged in a muggle wardrobe, he'd relied mostly on Lily and second-hand shops in Camden. Neither felt much like that had.

Away from the wizarding world, they were anonymous.

If he was honest with himself, Sirius didn't like the idea of leaving Harry alone, having retrieved him less than a week ago via proxy. However, being stuck around adults in this old, crumbling ruin was something he wouldn't wish on any teenager. Despite being seemingly contented to read, play chess, or listen to the wireless, Sirius knew from experience that boredom would set in quickly.

When Dumbledore's letter arrived, it had broken things up. He wanted help with a matter which he hadn't openly disclosed, though Emmeline had relayed that he'd been interviewing for Defense, and then suddenly stopped. Since Regulus had decided to return to France (of course it was France, it was obvious the more he thought about it and blamed the imprisonment for clouding his mind), and invited him to go with him despite his secrecy and desire for privacy, it had seemed like a good time to take Molly up on her offer for Harry to go there for a bit. Despite the more lax precautions, knowing that both Hermione and Ron would be there was an intense draw for Harry, and Sirius knew if given the chance, he'd have taken it to spend it with his friends.

They'd be back in a few days. He was already ruminating on ideas for birthdays, since Harry and Regulus were only a week and a half apart. He had a truly terrible idea, that could either go really well or be utterly disasterous, so he hadn't decided if he'd raise it yet. Then they'd have OWL results. It already felt as if their summer would trickle through his fingers if he let it.

“Are you sure you'll be alright here alone?” Sirius double-checked. More like double-checked for the fiftieth time.

“I'm not alone,” Emmeline pointed out Harry.

“And you're okay with that,” again, he checked.

Emmeline rolled her eyes. “I think I can handle nine hours alone with a teenage boy in a multi-story house and a house-elf.”

“Kreacher could suffocate you in your sleep,” Sirius pointed out. “You can't stop him.”

“I usually find being polite helps,” Emmeline sighed.

“I'll remember that next time I have to duel,” Sirius replied. “I'll politely ask if we can abstain.”

“Perhaps no one's tried it,” Emmeline said, taking a drink with a wince. “You can always hex politely afterwards.”

Sirius snorted. “Hex politely?”

“You were in dueling club,” Emmeline reminded him. “You know the etiquette.”

“Knowledge and action are two different things,” Sirius said.

“Speaking of, are you packed for your mysterious adventure?” Emmeline asked, as Harry nicked the Prophet from where she had abandoned it.

“Mostly,” Sirius waved her off.

“Mostly,” Emmeline replied. “Aren't you leaving any moment?”

“It's a few days, I don't need to bring the kitchen sink with me,” Sirius groused, for he knew a similar conversation was likely coming with Regulus. Unless he'd bought an extremely engaging book for the train, then he'd probably sit in total silence for the next several hours. He really needed to get that personal music box back, assuming it was still in his flat. Despite it being almost a week, he still hadn't been. Perhaps he was avoiding it, but he didn't want to pull on that thread too hard.

“What about you?” Emmeline asked Harry. “Everything ready?”

Caught like a deer in the road, Harry looked up from whatever he was reading. He looked between them and then said, “Mostly.”

Emmeline made a noise of disgust, while Sirius and Harry locked eyes and he couldn't help himself from laughing. There were no organisation skills in the Potter genes. Never had been. Just look at the hair. Harry, to his credit, grinned as well as he reached for the marmalade.

“I don't know how Lily managed a road trip with you lot,” Emmeline muttered.

“There was a road trip?” There was always something heartbreaking about the way Harry seemed to snap to attention whenever his parents were mentioned. Still, Sirius had plenty of stories, some of them he probably would never tell their kid, but most, he could.

“It was an adventure,” Sirius replied with a wink. “I'll tell you about it when we get back.”

“Where is Regulus?” Emmeline asked, “I could use some common sense back up.”

“Obsessively packing and repacking, if his Hogwarts habits haven't changed,” Sirius sighed. In truth, part of the reason he wanted to travel light was that they were leaving such a mess behind that they'd be thrown back in the deep end the moment they got back. There was a new Minister, the trial inquiries, the Death Eaters, the mysterious inferi, Dumbledore's task, the press, figuring out where Harry would live, figuring out where Sirius himself wanted to live, dealing with what he was strongly thinking was an unfortunate crush on Emmeline's part given Regulus's lack of budging on the blood issue, dealing with Tonks's mood, dealing with Remus's issues with Greyback and the way he was obviously struggling, OWLs, birthdays, Death Eaters, not having a good reason to go with Emme to her own parents’ funeral, the prophecy, Voldemort, Narcissa – the list went on and on.Taking a few deep breaths outside of that sounded blissful.

Hearing a noise upstairs, Sirius called, “You ready to go?”

A few seconds later, Regulus was strolling down the stairs, packed and ready. “Yes. Are you?”

"Yeah, mostly," Sirius said, as Emmeline once again snorted. He shot her a dirty look. "I just need to grab a couple of things."

“You should do that, then. We’re leaving soon,” Regulus countered, then turned a look past him to Harry and Emmeline. “Good morning.”

"At last, someone with sense," Emmeline said, while Harry once again gave greeting with his mouthful.

Sirius left them to it. He had been trying to stay more in his own room, even if it was still difficult at times. He thought about tearing it all down and starting again, but the desire to preserve something important drove him not to. It had been important to him once; it might be again, one day.

There was a familiar sense memory that crept up from over twenty years ago. It was a little different, he was tossing a shoulder bag on the bed and grabbing a few things instead of his trunk. He didn't have his winter clothes packed, nor school books or a bubbling excitement to see the Tower again, even if Regulus's mood would sour considerably upon reaching King's Cross. That was different too. Against all hope, he had been given a second chance to do everything he wanted - to be a proper godfather to Harry, a better sibling, a better friend, a less volatile investment for the Order. Now, as they left once again for the train, it wouldn't be Hogwarts, but a window into the world Regulus had built for himself without oversight or prying eyes. It was still an adventure, one he'd been invited to and welcomed on.

It was with this giddying thought, Sirius shut the bedroom door and legged it down the stairs. It was time for something new.