Chapter Text
“Chocolate Mallow Banana,” Sirius Black intoned.
Normally the familiar sight of the gargoyle statue spinning away to reveal the staircase to the Headmaster's office would bring a smirk to his face. He and his friends have been there so many times for pranks and other mischief, they used to joke it was like a home away from home. Those innocent playful days were long gone though, and Sirius had little hope Professor Dumbledore summoned him for a friendly chat.
He was nearly at the top when a tall lanky boy in Slytherin robes bounced past him, their shoulders colliding on the narrow staircase. It took Sirius a hot second to recognise the blond as one of his brother’s pureblood friends. His stomach sunk deeper moments later when he came face to face with another of Regulus’ close friends, their second cousin Evan Rosier.
The worry hardened into anger.
He pushed past the younger man and rapped on the door of the headmaster's study before inviting himself in. He was greeted by a serene looking Albus Dumbledore, a strained Minerva McGonagall, and a frazzled Horace Slughorn.
Sirius never liked the head of the Slytherin house; the Potion Master wasn’t a bad teacher but he played favourites like he was aiming for a World Cup in cronyism. Sirius didn’t know whether or not the man is privy to the business of the Order of the Phoenix; but if ickle Reggie went and got himself branded as a purist maniac while still at school and caught, the Head of his House would have to be present.
With all the affection he had left for his brother, Sirius hoped this meeting wasn’t about that.
He dropped into a plush armchair brazenly. “You wanted to see me, Sir?”
“Yes, yes. Thank you for coming on such a short notice, my boy. Lemon drop?” Sirius grit his teeth and declined with a shake of his head. Dumbledore put the tin of hard candy back on its place on the table.
“I need to ask you a couple questions, Sirius, and I need you to answer as honestly as you can. I’m also afraid we are on a schedule so let us get right to it.” The headmaster’s blue eyes framed by golden crescents of his glasses pierced right through Sirius’ soul as he clasped his hands and asked, “Have you been in contact with your brother as of late?”
Blood ice-cold in his veins, Sirius forced a grin on his face. “I saw James just the other day, Sir.”
Dumbledore smiled indulgently at him. “Do give Mister Potter my regards when you see him next. I was, however, asking after your brother Regulus.”
“I don’t have a brother of that name,” Sirius gritted through his teeth. Not anymore. He hadn’t even realised he still had hope before it was ruined-
The laugh that escaped him was bitter and devoid of mirth. “He joined, didn’t he?” Professor Slughorn’s jittery hand-rubbing was answer enough. “Of course he did. Of bloody course-”
“Mister Black,” Dumbledore interrupted him sternly. “When did you last speak to Regulus Black?”
What kind of question was that? The falling out between the Black brothers was well known and well documented in detention records. “Do you count that one time we set the library on fire?” Sirius grinned, chuckling there and there because what the fuck was Dumbledore playing at. Did he - could he possibly think Sirius was hiding a Dark Mark under his sleeve too?
“I don’t believe there was much talking involved that day,” Dumbledore said, his inquisitive gaze not leaving the young man.
Defiantly, Sirius shrugged off his leather jacket to show his unmarked forearms under the guise of making himself more comfortable. “Then we last talked before I walked away from that madhouse.”
Dumbledore nodded contemplatively. “About three years ago, then. Did you notice any changes in young Mister Black’s behaviour around that time?”
“Aside from him suddenly trying to blast my head off?” he replied, dripping with sarcasm.
He had known Regulus would have a difficult time adjusting but he had thought his little brother understood. They were fine in the months after Sirius’ abrupt departure on Christmas holidays. If he was hurt by Sirius’ decision to go to Potters’ in June, Regulus didn’t let it show when their paths crossed on the Hogwarts’ Express. Then, comes September… It was like his little brother had been replaced with a hateful little gremlin. The usual indifference became hostile. If Sirius pushed him there came slurs, curses and yelling matches, as if he was facing their mother instead.
He liked to pretend it didn’t affect him.
He didn’t know how good his acting was.
Steering the interrogation away from that soft spot, Sirius glared at Dumbledore and turned his gaze to McGonagall. The strict Transfiguration Professor always had a soft spot for him and his friends, and unlike the Headmaster she did not skirt around issues. “What is this all about.”
The elderly witch met his gaze straight on. “Mister Black suffered from a seizure in the Slytherin dormitories last night.”
Sirius only shook his head. How did that concern him? He wasn’t Regulus’ emergency contact. That doubtful privilege went to Mother.
“Madame Pomfrey diagnosed him with a severe overdose of an emotions-altering potion, later determined to be a variation of a love potion.” Professor McGonagall hesitated for but a moment before she ignored Dumbledore’s placating call of ‘Minerva’. “I am not going to mince my words, Mister Black. Pomona and Healer Tonks are doing what they can but your brother might not survive. We need to know what exactly the potion was, how long has Mister Regulus been under its influence, and ideally, who gave it to him in the first place.”
“…Healer Tonks as in Ted Tonks?” Sirius asked. Because ‘Your favourite cousin’s husband is here’ was easier to digest than ‘Your estranged brother might be dying’.
Leaving his question unanswered, Dumbledore offered him a small vial of purple liquid. Still subdued by the news, Sirius took it. “Are you familiar with this, Sirius?”
“Migraine medicine?” Sirius read the swirling script on the label. That was strange, Regulus always swore by MIG-right-as-RAINe . “No, he used to take the regular Fernleaf Apotheke stuff…” Did it stop working for him? But then, the meticulous brat was unlikely to use something that only said ‘migraine’ on it, with no brewer’s name, list of ingredients or a dosage. Including such information on the label wasn’t required by law but Regulus considered it a courtesy that ought to be common.
“Young Mister Black’ roommates found vials of this potion in his night stand,” Professor Slughorn volunteered, drawing everyone’s eyes to himself. The usually exhibitionistic man floundered under the attention. “I sent samples to some of my colleagues for a more thorough analysis than I can conduct with school supplies in my free time. I, ehm, was however able to detect human hair, Ashwinder eggs, petals of yellow rose and Chrysanthemum and, ah, a strong presence of Cateye Pepper.”
The potion professor slipped into his lecture cadendance, though the nervous air around him did not dissipate.
“Cateye Pepper has been known to reduce pain, however is not commonly used for this purpose as it is very very easy to develop an addiction to it. To use it as a migraine suppressant would be entirely illogical as one of the early withdrawal symptoms are splitting headaches. If young Mister Black used the potion in good faith…” Slughorn spread his hands helplessly, “in a matter of weeks he would be trapped in a vicious cycle of blind devotion and dreadful headache.”
Sirius snorted despite himself. As if Regulus hadn’t already spent his entire life blindly devoted to a dreadful headache-
Something fell into place.
“Mother,” Sirius blurted out. It made perfect sense. Walburga Black wasn’t an advanced potioneer but she had the money and connections to hire someone to do it for her.
“Yes, Mister Black?” Dumbledore prompted.
“I,” he dragged his hands through his hair. “Regulus’ doesn’t like change. It makes him anxious. He wouldn’t switch Right-as-rain for an unlabeled concoction unless there was some heavy outside influence. Someone he trusted explicitly, or was - devoted to and didn’t want to upset them by refusing them. And he-”
He cut himself off as there was a knock at the door. Dumbledore checked his watch and let out a soft ‘Ah’. “Please continue, Sirius.”
“Right,” Sirius said slowly. “As I said, he always tried very hard to keep mother gladden. He wouldn’t question her if she told him to use this instead of his usual potion. And… some of the things he said after I moved in with the Potters? They were like straight out of mother’s mouth. At first I thought he was just pissed at me for not writing over the summer--”
Then they had their first fight, and the second fight, and the third and the seventh and Sirius gave up on making his brother see reason. Mother’s ideas had taken residence in Regulus’ head…
Sirius’ stomach turned and he couldn't but laugh. “I was bloody right about that, wasn’t I?” He chuckled uncontrollably. Otherwise he’d be crying, and one of the many lessons that he couldn’t shake off was that Blacks. Didn’t. Cry. “Mother dearest made sure her perfect little boy didn’t catch rebellious thoughts and run off like I did. And he joined the Death Eaters, didn’t he. Shit.”
Slughorn was quietly lamenting under his breath, McGonagall’s lips were pursed in a thin, unhappy line and Dumbledore was watching him with pity in his eyes.
“Would you like to see him?” the old professor asked quietly.
Did he?
“Yeah,” he breathed out, wiping at his face. He pulled himself up, grabbing his jacket on the way. He let it hang over the crook of his elbow as he nodded his goodbyes.
“He’s in the infirmary,” McGonagall said, “I believe you know the way.”
“Yeah, yeah I do. Thanks.”
“Please tell Miss Trewanley to come in on your way out,” Dumbledore called after him.
“Yeah, yeah.”
He all but fell out of the door. “You can go in,” he told the blonde Ravenclaw waiting outside, and rushed to the hospital wing.
He didn’t know what he thought or how he felt. Regulus was his brother. Regulus was a Death Eater.
Which mattered to him more?
How much did the potion truly influence Regulus’ decisions?
Reggie had always surrounded himself almost exclusively with ‘the right sort’. He believed in the superiority of Purebloods. He found logic where there was none to defend the drivel Mother and Father fed them since birth. He turned a blind eye to all evidence that suggested otherwise.
He talked at length of how the magical folk should be able to walk freely without hiding from Muggles. Sirius was almost certain Regulus’ solution to the ‘Muggle infestation problem’ was not enslavement and genocide Voldemort was aiming for, but he didn’t know what else the ‘solution’ could be.
Regulus was fascinated by dark magic. His eyes would light up at the mention of blood curses and all the gory details of how they worked. The interest was, for the most part, purely academic and theoretical, but the Bird Incident was now bringing images of his friends carefully dissected and meticulously described to Sirius's mind. Regulus had said he had found the bird already dead… but what if he had decided to satisfy the morbid curiosity again after Sirius left? What if it evolved, like Bellatrix’s cruelty did?
When they were little, Bellatrix would drag them away from parental oversight and teach them jinxes and hexes in the gardens. Was she now teaching Regulus the Unforgivables on the frogs in the pond of Cygnus’ estate?
Again, Sirius was almost certain Regulus wouldn’t hurt the frogs. He was terribly fond of unpopular animals. But to Death Eaters Muggles were less than frogs even. Would he cast the Cruciatus curse if Bellatrix pointed his wand at a Muggle?
Or would he make up a paper-thin excuse and leave? Would he flat out refuse? Would he curse Bellatrix instead and help the Muggle escape? Would he ever allow himself to see through the pureblood bollocks? Would he fight by Sirius’ side instead of against him?
Had Regulus shown signs of following in Sirius’ footsteps? Was that why Mother decided to drug him? Or was she just paranoid?
Was there any way to tell?
Was there any point in trying?
Sirius stopped with his hands on the infirmary doors. Should he go inside? Should he not?
His inner voice, the one that sounded a lot like Lily, whispered in his ear. Is it going to eat you if you don’t?
He pushed the door open.