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Sirius had just woken up, very confused as to why everyone was scurrying around like crazy. He stood up in his crib and found out he could see his father and several of his uncles pace past the open door of his nursery. He whimpered and babbled just enough to get someone’s attention. And he did – his governess, a stern elder woman, came in. Sirius, being almost two years old, had been held more by this woman than his own mother. He still didn’t quite know the difference between the two women’s relationships to him.
“Come on, master Sirius,” she said, picking him up from his crib, as Sirius clung to the woman. The commotion outside made him slightly unnerved. This house was usually so quiet that his footsteps and babbling were the only sound that could be heard. But not now – there was screaming, yelling, and loud pacing everywhere. His governess changed his nappies before carrying him out of his room and into another, larger room, where she sat him in his chair. She gave him a bottle and something of unknown origin to eat. He liked the colour of it, so he didn’t wait for a spoon but dug into the green mush with his hands. “Master Sirius! Civilised people don’t eat with their hands! We use cutlery!”
Sirius didn’t know why but those words would stick with him well into his later life. But at this stage, they didn’t make much of an impression. He smiled at the exasperated woman, who was waving a silver spoon in front of his face, and she smiled back. This smile would also stick with Sirius, for entirely different reasons. She cleaned Sirius’ hands and positioned the spoon correctly between his fingers. She watched him carefully, and when Sirius decided the spoon had more potential as a toy rather than a utensil and was about to gouge his eye out, she intervened.
“Master Sirius, civilised people don’t play with their cutlery.” She reprimanded him sternly, taking the spoon away from him.
“Civ’ised people,” repeated Sirius. He didn’t yet know this, but his first complete sentence would be Civilised people don’t do that, and he would live happily, until such time he heard what other people’s first sentences had been. “‘Poon.” He reached for the spoon, and it was returned to him and placed properly in his hand.
Sirius’ father walked into the room just as Sirius had finished eating what he was reminded to be mashed peas. Perhaps it was the awe in his governess’ eyes, every time he finished something green in colour, that set something ablaze in his heart. He would do anything for someone to look at him like that.
“Master Black!” Exclaimed his governess.
“Is he ready?”
“Has it happened?”
“I have a son.”
“Another boy! Oh, my, that is wonderful news!” The Governess took Sirius out of his chair and turned to hand him to his father, but the man was already leaving the room. The woman hurried after Orion Black, talking quietly to Sirius. “We are going to go meet your little brother. You are going to have a friend to play with in a year or so.”
Sirius didn’t remember much of his early childhood – it all tended to blend in long days of studying, listening to his father yell, and testing his governess’ patience. But he remembered meeting his baby brother for the first time in vivid detail. He was so small, even in the eyes of young Sirius. A tiny, wrinkled thing, sleeping in a cot, next to a wingback chair where his governess put him, and he immediately scrambled to look closely at the little thing that twitched in its sleep.
“This is your brother, Sirius.” Said his father in a haunting voice. “You will always be the firstborn, so there will be different expectations on you, but you will have to set a good example for him.” Sirius didn’t even look at his father while he was talking, just stared at this little thing he was half-convinced was a toy. “Do you understand me, Sirius?”
“Yes!” Exclaimed Sirius, applauding his brother. “Good job, Reg!” The little boy clapped too. He had just fallen to the floor from the railing of his crib. Sirius had been introduced to the concept of a ‘real bed’, but his brother was still sleeping in a cot, much for his disdain. Sirius’ bed was in another room which was the real problem.
“Good job!” Repeated Regulus, standing up and walking over to his brother, taking his hand. Sirius poked his head into the hallway, and when he saw it was empty, quickly led Regulus to his new room. He kept shushing the boy resulting in Regulus shushing him back – his favourite thing was to repeat everything Sirius said, much to everyone’s horror. Sirius’s favourite thing was the way his brother would listen to him – intently as if there was nothing else that mattered. In Regulus’ eyes, Sirius held all the knowledge in the Universe, and Sirius finally felt important to someone. “Come on,” said Sirius, helping his brother up to his bed before climbing in himself. The two huddled together and, after a few bouts of giggling fell asleep, heads touching gently.
When Sirius woke up the next morning, he was alone in bed and his first thought was to panic before he heard his brother babble from the corner of his room, where Sirius’ toys were put away in a trunk. Sirius sat up and saw Regulus flap his arms when he couldn’t open the toys chest. Smiling, Sirius got up and joined Regulus, opening his toys chest and piling everything on the floor. The governess, no longer Sirius’s governess, found them after they had turned the bedroom floor into a minefield – toys were scattered everywhere. Some were moving on their own, others were just laying about, forgotten by the two boys, who were constantly getting distracted by something different.
“Master Sirius! What is this?” Asked the Governess with her arms on her hips, looking sternly at the two boys.
“We’re playing,” said Sirius, and Regulus smiled up at the woman.
“Playing!” Regulus triumphantly lifted a plush giraffe by the neck.
“Master Regulus is supposed to be in his bed! You’re supposed to set an example for him, and what do you do?” Sirius was too young to understand the concept of rhetoric or trick questions, so he scrunched his forehead and looked around, confused by this line of questioning.
“I teach him how to play.” Replied honestly the older boy.
“Merlin, save me,” muttered the woman, scooping Regulus up and shaking her head. “Clean everything and get dressed, before your elocution tutor arrives.” She said, walking out of the room. From his vantage point, Regulus waved at Sirius excitedly. Sirius did his best to follow instructions and descended downstairs. His mother and father were already at the table, having breakfast.
“Good morning” greeted them Sirius, before sitting down, just as his breakfast appeared on the table – some apple slices, blueberries with yoghurt, and a small banana muffin, along with a glass of milk.
“Good morning, Sirius,” greeted his mother, without even looking up from the diary she was writing in. His father didn’t greet him, even after he put down his paper and left the room. Sirius ate until his tutor appeared and his breakfast promptly disappeared, replaced by books and paper. Sirius spent the next hour and a half repeating words, much like Regulus did with him, only if he messed up a word he would get punished. Sirius vowed to try extra hard to speak well so that Regulus wouldn’t have to spend as much time in the presence of this hag and her wooden cane.
That night, as the governess put him to bed, she warned him that he shouldn’t teach Regulus how to climb out of his crib. That it was not only bad for his discipline, but it was dangerous for him to sleep in a bed without guardrails. That he could fall and hit his head, and Sirius didn’t want that. So, during the night, when he heard his brother cry from his cot, Sirius tried to hide under the covers until someone calmed Regulus down. But no one did, and his brother kept crying inconsolable tears, so Sirius took his pillow and blanket and dragged them to the nursery.
“It’s alright, Reg,” he said dropping his bedding next to the cot and grabbed the rails. “I shouldn’t teach you how to get out. But I’ll stay with you.” He watched as his brother stopped crying and sat down in his crib, rubbing his eyes with a closed fist. Sirius did the same and laid down next to Regulus’ crib, as he stuck his little hand out and Sirius took it in his. The two fell asleep hand in hand, separated by a few wooden slabs.
Sirius woke up in a rather foul mood. His eyes felt sore like he had slept with them open, and he felt both hot and cold. Just as he had woken up, Regulus burst into his room, immediately jumping on his bed.
“Wake up, Sirius! We’re having guests today.” He said excitedly, his black hair bouncing in and out of his eyes. The governess had tried to give him a haircut, but Regulus wouldn’t sit still, and she had almost nicked his ear in the process before giving up.
“Oh, no was that today?” Sirius couldn’t stomach meeting with Bella today. He would gladly see Dromeda, and Cissa was alright – he got on exceptionally well the former, and the latter was a quiet demure girl, but Bella was a menace on her best days. She could be even worse than his mother when it came to Sirius’ behaviour.
“Are you alright?” Asked Regulus, putting his hand on Sirius’ forehead, even if he had no idea how to tell if his brother had a fever, or what to do next. “I’ll get the governess.” Regulus bolted out of Sirius’ room only to return with a grumbling woman, who somehow seemed not to age.
“Oh, dear!” She exclaimed when she placed her hand on Sirius’ forehead. “Are you in pain anywhere? Your head or stomach?” Sirius just nodded. Because really everything hurt. There was a potion that went down his throat, followed by a brief period of relief, during which he slept soundly. But all too soon he was awake again.
“Sirius?” He opened his eyes to see his brother standing next to him. “The healer is here. You’ll get better soon, I promise. I’ll look after you.”
“Regulus! Come here, the guests will arrive any moment now and we can’t let you get sick as well.” Their mother appeared in the doorway, followed by a healer, who entered his room, as his mother led Regulus away. The boy cast a last worried glance back, and Sirius tried to look as happy as possible, smiling reassuringly at him.
“Mr Black, let’s see what we can do to help you.” Said the healer as Sirius watched his mother lead his brother away, and something inside him felt like it might be the last time he sees his little brother. As the healer prodded and examined him, he began feeling like he might just die right now. “I have done all I can, for now, take this potion if you start feeling hungry, but do not consume food. Do you understand?” Asked the Healer and Sirius nodded, even if he wasn’t sure what the Healer was telling him.
“That’s alright, I’ll be staying with him for now.” Sirius looked at the doorway to see his cousin Andromeda, a small bag slung over her shoulder and a delicate flowery dress on – the vision of pure-blood grace. The Healer nodded and left without another word. As soon as the door closed, Andromeda smiled at him. “Hey there, cousin.” She sat on the edge of the bed and wiped the hair off his forehead with gentle fingers. Sirius closed his eyes, revelling in the warm loving touch of his cousin.
“How’ve you been?” He asked hoarsely.
“I’ve been well, thank you. Fourth year was a breeze, and I am taking advanced charm lessons.”
“Sounds fun,” he said hoarsely, and she shushed him gently.
“I can tell you all about Hogwarts, or I can just sit here with you and read, but you have to be quiet and try to sleep.” He nodded silently and Andromeda got comfortable, pulling a chair next to his bed.
She proceeded to tell him about Hogwarts and what the houses were really like, how the Quidditch teams worked and who had won the cup. She talked about different classes she had and the classes she chose not to take. And while everything sounded amazing, making him wish he was already there, what he really looked forward to, was having friends. Friends who weren’t related to him or forced to be his friends. Other kids who didn’t expect anything from him, who understood him. He must have dozed off, but when he woke up, he saw his cousin had begun reading a thick book. Lord of the Rings, it said the cover.
“What’s it about?” He asked, voice no longer rough, and his throat no longer felt like sandpaper. Andromeda startled and quickly hid the book. “That’s a muggle book, isn’t it?” He asked, trying to sit up.
“You can’t tell anyone.” She pleaded with wide eyes.
“I won’t. But that is it about.”
“It’s about a magic quest. There are elves and humans and dwarves. And even wizards.”
“Do they get magic right?”
“Not in the slightest – but I think that’s what makes them most endearing. They don’t know it exists, or that there are rules to it, but they still believe that it must exist in some form.”
“Sounds nice – to blindly believe in something. I wish I had that type of faith.” Andromeda’s brows furrowed and she looked at the book before putting it in her bag again.
“Don’t. Bella… She blindly believes in someone, but she doesn’t see the cost we’ll have to pay for following him.” His cousin looked ready to start crying, as she took a deep breath. “Our family is headed down a dangerous path Sirius, make sure you make the right decisions for yourself.” She paused for a second before she reached in her bag and pulled a smaller book, handing it to Sirius. “If you’re interested in the book I’m reading, you have to start with this one. You can give it back when we come again next week.”
Sirius took the small book and flipped through the pages. It was muggle, yet it didn’t look any different from the children’s books he had on his shelf. But the thrill this forbidden stack of papers gave him, felt almost as good as the look of appraisal his governess used to give him.
“The Hobbit,” read Regulus in a hushed voice. “That’s a Hobbit?” He asked, turning the book around in his hands like he expected it to change.
“It’s a… It’s like a small person.” Said Sirius, looking at his brother. The two were lying on the floor of Sirius’ room, the only light was a candle they had placed between them, trying to remain quiet and hidden.
“Like me?”
“No Reg. Well, they could be children, but that’s not what I mean. They’re just short.” Sirius took the book back and flipped it open. He had finished it the same night it was given to him since he couldn’t sleep anyway, and he had read it twice more since then, but he had to give it back tomorrow.
“Can they do magic?”
“No. But there are powerful wizards and an elven court–”
“That’s ridiculous. Elves don’t have courts. Dad says they’re servants who are only worthy of their magic if they obey their masters.”
“These are different type of elves! Not like our house elves – these are beautiful and majestic creatures.”
“There isn’t another type of elves.”
“It’s fiction, Reg, it’s made up. The wizards in here are also not like us.”
“Then why do you read it? Dad says the only things worth reading are the things that teach you values. And some textbooks.”
“Do you always do what dad says?” Snapped Sirius. Regulus just furrowed his brows.
“Of course. You do too.”
“Only when he’s looking.” Muttered Sirius, clutching the book to his chest. “This is a muggle book, you know.”
“Then you really shouldn’t be reading it! It’s going to brainwash you so that the muggles could steal your magic! Or my magic! I can’t even do accidental magic yet…” Regulus looked at his hands, turning them around in the light of the candle, and Sirius could see tears forming in his brother’s eyes.
“No one can steal your magic Reg, it’s yours and it’s not going anywhere,” he put the book out of sight on his bed and pulled Regulus into a hug. “I won’t let anyone take your magic.”
“Promise?”
“I’ll protect you. I’ll always protect you. That’s what big brothers do.”
“What do little brothers do?”
“They…” Sirius thought long and hard on this. His father had given him many speeches on what he should be doing as a big brother – set an example, protect Regulus, help him become a man – but he didn’t know what little brothers were expected to do. “I think little brothers listen to their big brothers and keep their secrets.”
“Okay,” said Reg, sniffling a little before rubbing his eye. “I promise to keep your secrets.” The two boys shook hands, and Regulus tried to stifle a yawn.
“Let’s get you to bed.” Said Sirius, blowing out the candle and sneaking to the door, to check if anyone was outside.
The hallway was dark and empty, so Sirius led Regulus back to his room, holding tightly to his hand. When Reg had climbed in bed and rested his head on the pillow, Sirius drew the blanket up to his brother’s shoulders and quietly made his way back, tucking himself under the covers. Clutching his cousin’s book to his chest, her words flooded his mind. He’s barely eight years old, but he’s not blind. He sees his father and his guests. The meetings he holds behind closed doors, but never secret enough for Sirius not to notice. Something dark seems to be seeping into the very foundations of his home, and he often feels it when he wakes up in the middle of the night, biting his lip so he doesn’t scream. Men don’t cry and scream. Dangerous path, the cost we’ll have to pay, the right decisions for you. Andromeda’s teary eyes swam behind his closed lids. He didn’t want to have to make decisions, because he didn’t really understand what the right ones were. How could something be right for him if it weren’t right for Regulus? He opened the book and ran a finger over the indents made by a pencil, a handwritten inscription on the first page. He had read it so often that he had memorised the short message, swept up in the gentle words, wishing someone would one day write something like this for him.
Andy,
This book convinced me that magic exists. I hope it does the same for you.
Yours,
Ted
Sirius wondered who Andy was, and why he had lent the book to Dromeda. Obviously a muggleborn, if they needed convincing that magic exists, but it was the gentle message of the words that stuck with Sirius. Finding a piece of yourself in a book and having the courage to share it with someone, was perhaps the most intimate thing Sirius could ever imagine. His chest tightened, thinking of how he tried to share this little bit of himself he found between the pages of The Hobbit, and how Regulus had reacted. Tucking the book carefully inside his pillowcase, he laid down and tried to imagine himself in a place where he didn’t feel like he had to hide anything.
“Stop hiding it, it only draws attention to it.” Said Sirius, looking at Regulus’ back and the hand that covered half of his face.
“You promised you’d protect me.” Accused him Regulus, finally turning around and lowering his hand. The red mark across his cheek from where their father had struck Regulus for talking at an inappropriate time, stared accusatorily at Sirius. He felt the scars on his own back tingle.
“I’m sorry,” said Sirius, feeling like he, himself had been struck by their father. At least physical pain gave him something to focus on but seeing Regulus like this just made him feel like a traitor. “I’ll try harder next time.” Regulus carefully wiped a stray tear, cautious of the angry mark that would bruise soon.
There had been nothing Sirius could have done – in the past year, every time Sirius had thought his father was about to lose his temper with Regulus, he would outdo his little brother. He had broken many vases and plates, praised muggle literature and music, asked after Andromeda, whose image was burned off the family tapestry just a few months ago. Each time taking the beating that would have fallen on Regulus, in addition to his own. But this time their father had bought Regulus into a meeting. One of those attended by the scary people held behind closed doors. Soon after, Orion had thrown Regulus out, but not before delivering a sharp blow to his face.
“Regulus, listen to me!” Said Sirius hastily, grabbing his brother’s shoulders. “I’ll be leaving for Hogwarts soon! And I won’t be here to distract dad, so I need you to promise me you’d do everything you can to behave.” Regulus nodded and Sirius hugged him. “You need to be the good son.”
“What about you?”
“I’m never going to be good enough for them. But you can.” Said Sirius, tracing the red bruise. He wanted to vanish it, but even if he could, that would only anger their parents. “It’s my job to protect you. To chase away the fear. And I try my best, but you have to be careful.”
“I don’t know if I can be what they want me to be.”
“You don’t have to be that. You just have to convince them you are for long enough. Soon there’ll be bigger things for them to worry about.” Sirius thought back on how his father had raved about having to make nice with a half-blood, and about how he was the wrong person to lead this war. He will never be our equal and those half-wits have gone and agreed to follow him in waging a war! As if that wasn’t humiliation enough, now they dare bring this half-breed in my house, near my heirs!
“And what happens when you leave me?” Asked Regulus, looking teary-eyed at Sirius.
“I’ll never leave you. Not really. I’ll always have your back because that’s what brothers do. All you have to do is tell me what scares you, and I’ll protect you.”
“Brother I’m scared,” Sirius took in his brother’s appearance. It was just after the party for Regulus’ 14th birthday, a party that was held in the Slytherin dungeons, and which Sirius refused to attend. He sent Regulus an anonymous gift, using a borrowed owl, but he hadn’t really spoken to Regulus since the start of the school year. Regulus also hadn’t reached out, until today, when through a complicated chain of messengers Moony had come to Sirius and given him a note, looking quite worried himself.
The place where you can see yourself reflected in the midnight sky. Please. R. A. B.
So, Sirius had waited until the last possible moment and had borrowed the cloak from James before he and Moony had made their way to the Astronomy Tower. Lupin was currently sat at the bottom of the Tower, waiting for Sirius to return. Sirius had wanted to be angry at Regulus, for the way he’s been behaving towards him and his friends. For his close friendship with Snivellus. For the way, he bought into his father’s bullshite so readily and without question. But the true horror written across his little brother’s face didn’t allow him to be angry at Regulus. So, Sirius just drew Regulus in an embrace and let the boy cry into his shoulder for as long as he needed. He had been meaning to send him off to cry to Snape and Mulciber, who were always trying to draw Regulus in the little club they had formed with Avery and the younger Lestrange. Or to Narcissa, who never stopped talking about her betrothal to Lucius Malfoy. But he had made a promise he couldn’t bring himself to break.
“Scared of what?” He asked, praying to anyone who was listening he would be able to help. Regulus pulled himself out of his brother’s embrace and reached inside his pocket with a shaking hand, taking out a letter. It was from their father and Sirius didn’t dare take it in case it bites or burns him. He wouldn’t put it past his father.
“What does it say?” The question came out cold and detached.
“That we are at war.”
“We’ve been at war for a long while now, Reg,” said Sirius sombrely. “War isn’t always glory and duels. Sometimes it’s just this.” Sirius gestured vaguely around. Hogwarts had shifted quite a lot in the past year, as the war outside the walls progressed. Houses have never been more divided and even within the houses, there were ruptures. The only reason Sirius hasn’t been shunned out of Gryffindor yet was James, who had already hexed three people for calling him a spy for Voldemort and a blood supremacist.
“No, Sirius. This is more than this!” Regulus waved the letter again. “You have to stop pretending you’re one of them and come home. You’ve taunted our family long enough – you’re the heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black! It’s time you stopped playing pretend and came home to take your rightful place. If you don’t come back soon, they’ll have no choice but to brand you as the enemy.” Regulus’ voice wavered on the last word, and Sirius saw that despite everything that had happened, everything that had pushed them apart, the thought of Sirius being in danger from his own family scared Regulus.
“I am exactly where I belong, Reg,” said Sirius.
“Stop calling me that. My name is Regulus.”
“For me, you’ll always be Reg. The little boy that wouldn’t sleep if I were in another room, so I would sleep on the floor next to your cot.” Sirius caught his brother’s face between his hands and forced him to meet his eyes. “Come with me to Dumbledore. Let him help you like he’s been helping me. You’ll never feel alone again – you’ll gain three other brothers, my friends. We’ll protect you.” For a second Sirius thought his brother would agree. But that was all the time he had for hope, as Regulus’ sad eyes scanned his face before hardening.
“You told me once to be the good son. That’s what I’m doing. But I guess I’m not pretending anymore – I see now what those blood traitors have done to you and I want no part in this.” Regulus pulled away from his brother’s arms and balled his fists at his side, turning the letter into a ball of paper. “I’m trying to save your skin. To make you see the right path and make the right choice. Choose your family, your blood. We won’t lose this war, not with the Malfoys and Fenrir Greyback on our side.” At the mention of the werewolf, Sirius dropped his still outstretched arms.
“Greyback? You’re willingly choosing the side that advertises their attachments to that monster?” He thought of Lupin, who had lost everything because of Greyback. Lupin, who had spent his life shunned by everyone who didn’t understand and feared by everyone who knew.
“Yes, his condition is quite unfortunate but it’s not like the Dark Lord would make him his right hand. He is a great weapon, an attack dog to be used against those who defy us. He’s only with us because he knows we’ll give him all the mudbloods when we’re done.”
“What have they done to you?” Whispered Sirius. In his head were all the images of the happy little boy his brother used to be, and Sirius wondered when had this happened. How could he have missed the point when their paths had divulged so? Did Regulus really believe in everything Voldemort was spewing? How could Andromeda have gotten through to Sirius, but not Regulus?
“Nothing yet,” said Regulus before lifting his chin. “But I am on my way to becoming a full-fledged Death Eater. What I need from you is to stop running around with your blood traitor friends, Potter and Pettigrew, and forget about that Lupin boy. Come home.”
“I am home. With my blood traitor friends and that Lupin boy. Because I am a blood traitor and I’ll happily scream it from this very tower if that actually mattered. But blood is blood, whether it is ours, Remus’, or Lily’s.” Snarled Sirius, but Regulus didn’t even blink. Someone who was regularly in the presence of Greyback wouldn’t be scared by a 15-year-old punk. “I promised you I’d always protect you and I hope one day you realise that that’s what I’m doing by choosing to stand against you in this war. Because while you fight for dominance, I’ll be fighting for equality, so that after this we could be brothers again.” Sirius turned on his heel and ran down the stairs of the Astronomy Tower.
“You said you’d never leave me!” Regulus yelled, bursting into Sirius’ room, slamming the door behind him. He had grown gaunt, but that had only aided him in his position as a seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team. Sirius regarded him carefully, committing him to memory. He would see him in a few months at Hogwarts, but that would just be like rubbing salt in an open wound.
“I said I’d always have your back. And I will. All you have to do is reach out, and I’ll take you with me somewhere where you’ll be safe.” Said Sirius, throwing the last few items of clothing he wanted to take with him into his luggage. He had already collected most of his books and other belongings. Everything the Blacks would consider impure was already stashed at James’ house anyway.
“You’re being ridiculous. You’re signing your own death order.” Said Regulus, looking at Sirius with wide pleading eyes. Sirius couldn’t remember the last time his little brother had looked at him with something other than unshared pleas. Once upon a time, he had looked at Sirius like he held the answers to the universe, but now all Sirius could see was Regulus’ conviction that it was Sirius who needed saving.
“And when they do make you a Death Eater maybe you’ll be my executioner.” Sirius closed the trunk and looked out his window. Dumbledore, along with Mr and Mrs Potter, were already on the other side of the street, standing in the shadows of one of the larger trees there. He knew James and Peter were waiting for him and had already begun decorating his bedroom, and that Lupin would be joining them soon.
“Don’t say that,” whispered Regulus. Sirius grabbed his trunk and hauled it down the stairs. “I don’t want to hurt you. I would never do that.”
“If they order you to, you will.” Said Sirius, casting a glance at his brother, walking behind him. “And you should. Or you might get hurt.” He walked past the open doors to the drawing-room, where his parents were sitting quietly, pretending nothing out of the ordinary was happening. They had started pretending that Regulus was their only son years ago, so this really wasn’t that unusual for any of them.
“They’ll punish me if you go!” Sirius froze for a second before continuing towards the front door.
“Don’t do this Reg,” he chocked. “Don’t guilt-trip me over this. I can’t take every single hit in your stead.” Fleamont Potter took Sirius’ trunk as soon as he stepped out onto the street. Sirius turned to Regulus, who looked hurt and furious, standing on the last step of the house, fists balled at his side.
“How can you do this to me?” Asked Regulus, his voice breaking, finally betraying his real emotions. Sirius could hear Euphemia gasp behind him – the woman had a heart of gold and would adopt every child in need if she could. Sirius hugged his brother tight before drawing back to kiss his forehead.
“I’m sorry, Reg. Forgive me,” He whispered, feeling tears prick in his eyes and his throat felt tight. Turning on his heel, he joined the Potters and Dumbledore, trying not to cry. Men don’t cry.
“Look at me! Turn around and look at me!” It took every ounce of self-control Sirius had in him not to turn around. Not to run back and try to convince Regulus to join him. One more try. Surely, he’d see clearly now. “I’ll never forgive you for this! Do you hear me–” before Regulus could finish his sentence Dumbledore had Apparated them to the Potters’ house.
“Brother,” whispered Regulus into the dark. He could swear he saw his brother’s silhouette just on the other side of the basin. Though he suspected it was a result of the potion he was drinking. It didn’t matter. He could say whatever was on his mind now, until a time when he could see Sirius again. “I forgive you. I forgive you! Do you hear me?” He gasped at a sudden pain in his gut but scooped some more of the potion and drank it. The taste was like drinking rancid blood, but the texture was that of smooth opium potions – sliding effortlessly down your throat and seemingly coating your insides in velvet. “You were right. You were right all along. But I’ll set things straight. I’ll help you now, whatever it costs me.” Regulus took another gulp.
“Do you think this will earn you your redemption, brother?” The voice wasn’t quite right. But then again, Regulus hadn’t heard his brother’s voice up close in years. He scooped more of the potion forcing it down his throat. “Do you think the world will forget your betrayal?”
“I don’t want the world to forget. I want your forgiveness. I don’t care for the rest of humanity.” Regulus choked on the next gulp of the liquid and had to hold a hand over his mouth when he felt bile rise and spill in his mouth. He didn’t know if he could complete his mission if let the vomit out of his system. He swallowed and took another swipe with the shell to wash down the sour taste of bile with something worse.
“And you think one act of defiance would be enough? That one small gesture would make up for years of wrongdoing?” Sirius’ voice flooded the empty cave, and even though it didn’t sound quite right, Regulus would give anything to keep his brother talking. He drank more. The bottom of the vessel was in sight. Just a few scoops left, and he could complete his mission.
“This is just the beginning, brother,” croaked Regulus, leaning heavily on the basin. The velvet in his gut no longer felt pleasant. He felt like he was shrivelling up from the inside out. He drank twice more before speaking again, already feeling the loss of his brother’s voice. “Just a little more and I’ll stop him. I’ll give you the chance your side needs to destroy him. And I’ll be there, next to you, if you’ll allow me. Together in Azkaban.”
“I won’t.” Regulus drank the last of it.
“At least I would have tried.” He took the locket and immediately felt the dark magic course through him like it was flowing from the locket directly into his veins. “Kreacher!” He called, and the elf appeared. “Do it. Switch the lockets and destroy the real Horcrux.”
“Master…”
“Don’t argue. Go.”
“Yes, master.” Kreacher disappeared with a pop. Thirst was overwhelming. Regulus tried casting a water-making spell, but his throat was so dry the words couldn’t get past his vocal cords.
“There is water there. Just to your right.” Said Sirius, like he did when Regulus would wake in the middle of the night thirsty and call for Sirius. He always called for Sirius. Never for the governess or Kreacher. “Here, I’ll help you.”
Regulus felt like he was being led to the dark water and he collapsed on the shore. Scooping water with both hands, his thirst began diminishing, but exhaustion took over. The velvet in his stomach moved to his head and everything felt dulled. Even as the bony, white hand on an Inferius grabbed him, he couldn’t bring himself to care. More and more hands grabbed Regulus, dragging him into the water and down to the bottom.
“Brother,” said Regulus, a few bubbles escaped his lips. Up, on the shore, above the surface, he could see a figure bending to scoop some water. A tall and scrawny figure, with wild hair. “Sirius.” For a moment, as the figure rushed away, he could swear he saw light, reflecting in a pair of glasses, but it must have been a trick of the water. “Brother,” As Regulus’ lungs burned and gasped for air, he felt the water fill his lungs and weight him down. He expected to drown, but there was always a next attempt to breathe. Another word uttered. The figure appeared again. “Bother, forgive me.”
Sirius stood on the steps of 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington. The house he never thought he would see again, never take another step inside, now belonged to him. Fate had a twisted sense of humour, but Azkaban had sucked out every last bit of humour he had once possessed. Sirius had become worryingly detached from the world as a whole, focusing solely on avenging James and Lily. As Sirius opened the doors and took a step inside, he felt like he had traded Azkaban for another, arguably worse prison. The inside was in such a state he didn’t feel the need to cast a revealing spell – anything that could live here was not even remotely human. Mould, dirt, and dark magic permeated every inch of this place, rendering it uninhabitable. Sirius covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve and walked further inside the house, making his way to what used to be Regulus’ room. A scream tore through the air, and Sirius spun around pointing his wand at the end of the hallway. There he could see his brother writhing in pain on the dirty floor. Fear gripped him as he darted for Regulus, but he soon realised what this was – a boggart. Regulus was dead. Raising his wand, Sirius focused hard on imagining how this nightmare could become funny. His boggart used to be Voldemort, probably still was, but not here. Not in this hellhole. Here, where he left his baby brother to face the wrath of Voldemort, and their parents, and Greyback, this was his greatest fear. In a moment of distraction, Sirius wondered if this is how Regulus died – in pain, wriggling on the dirty floor, being tortured by someone who likely shared his blood.
“Riddikulus!” He yelled and the screams of pain became peals of laughter. His brother no longer looked gaunt and tortured – he had transformed into a five-year-old boy, and Sirius could see a young version of himself bent over, tickling him as Regulus squirmed under his fingers. As the boggart disappeared, Sirius collapsed on his knees and wept. He hadn’t cried in Azkaban, convinced he didn’t deserve the luxury of tears and the fake calmness they left behind. He didn’t allow himself to cry while plotting his escape, because distraction was how he would fail. But now he cried for all the times he held himself back.
“Sirius,” he turned around to see that Dumbledore had entered the house. The old wizard’s voice was calm, but Sirius couldn’t understand how. How after everything, this man remained steadfast and collected, when Sirius felt unhinged. He had wondered whether his constant anger was a side effect of his inbred blood, or if it had been a learned behaviour.
“Are you real?” He asked the figure and saw Dumbledore unclasp his hands and spread them in the tight corridor.
“You can ask me anything to check.”
“I don’t care. It doesn’t matter.” Sirius shook his head, standing up and opening his brother’s room. He didn’t really expect it to look untouched, but what he never dared to imagine was for it to be empty. Like no one had lived there. “You can have the house.” He said calmly. “I don’t want it.”
“You can still live here, you know. It can be your home again.”
“I’d rather go back to Azkaban,” Sirius walked further inside the room and upturned one of the rugs with the tip of his stolen shoes before pushing on one end of a creaking floorboard. The wood protested, but budged, revealing a hidden crawlspace. A mouse or a rat, Sirius wasn’t sure, scuttered out of it and past Dumbledore. “This house was never really my home.” Sirius reached inside the hiding place and took out the treasure hidden there. An old, moulded and partially eaten copy of The Hobbit he had hidden there for Regulus.
“If you miss me during this year, just take the book out and you’ll be reminded of me.” He had said, placing the book inside. When he returned at the end of the year Regulus had told him he hadn’t taken the book out. Muggle fiction was still something he didn’t want to be associated with. Sirius opened it to the first page, where he has inscribed something.
Reg,
You don’t need to read the book to be reminded of me. Reading this should be enough.
Yours,
Sirius.
There was something scribbled in ink at the bottom of the same page in handwriting far too elegant to belong to the 10-year-old Regulus.
If you’re reading this, know that I regret everything, but mostly what I said to you that day you left.
Brother,
Forgive me.
Clutching the book to his chest, Sirius felt his heart breaking all over again and he wondered how many more heartbreaks he could live through. His heart was bound to stop one of these days and he found morbid comfort in that fact.
“I forgive you, Reg.”