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“I pity you your assignment, Shacklebolt,” chortled one of his fellow Aurors, one of the few privy to his current assignment given the necessity for secrecy.
And watching his assignment sitting there, rocking back and forth while looking up at the ceiling, obviously agitated and occasionally letting out a humming sound as if an attempt to comfort their already rattled mind from whatever the voices in their head said, Kingsley might have agreed on first glance; pity him for managing to land a babysitting job, but if Sirius were anything to go by—
Kingsley sat down next to the young wizard he ’d been assigned, simply remembering how Moody approached him with a click of a tongue, letting him know nobody else could take on the task, given how they suspected even the Aurors to be compromised, but Dumbledore himself would be arranging for a place to stay as they needed whatever they might manage to get out of that rattled brain, nor could they let the fate of every other person who’d tried to leave the Death Eaters be the fate of the young wizard in front of him.
“So,” he finally said, after what felt like a long moment listening to the off-and-on humming sound as the young man in front of him seemingly remained oblivious to the world around him. “My name is Kingsley Shacklebolt.”
He paused, not expecting a response, wondering how he ’d get the young man to the safe house Dumbledore was preparing for them, that Moody would take them to be their safe keeper.
But then—
“Regulus.”
Which completely sounded like a name appropriate for someone related to one Sirius Black.
“Regulus Arcturus Black,” the young man said, the rocking stopping, but not the looking at the ceiling.
Kingsley tensed, having not expected the response, let alone the full name, something he ’d not expect of Sirius, who’d instead only use his first name if he could help it. “You’re related to Sirius, then?”
He watched the boy stiffen, then physically cringe at the mention of Sirius, his face scrunching up as if he were in pain, before lifting a hand up to hit himself on the side of the head as the eye on the opposite side closed.
“Hey,” Kinglsey said, his hand startling to lift, even though Regulus didn’t hit himself very hard. “You shouldn’t…”
“No,” Regulus choked out, swallowing. “We’re not.”
“You’re not?”
“Sirius says so,” Regulus muttered, rubbing the palm of his hand against his forehead. “He likes to remind me of that, but he can very well shut up already.”
Kingsley sat up straighter. “He can shut up already? And he likes to…”
“Oh. I’m aware he’s not here,” Regulus said, baring his teeth as he gritted them together. “And you very well may be thinking, if you know Sirius, that I’ve succumbed to the Black family madness, and he’ll likely be laughing that it’s happened to me of all people, given how much he hates…”
“I’m not following,” Kingsley said.
Regulus turned his head slightly yet didn ’t make eye contact. “I’m not mad.”
Kingsley refrained from sighing yet didn ’t know what to say.
“It’s the bloody potion,” Regulus muttered.
“A potion?”
“Yes.”
“Does Dumbledore…”
“Haven’t told him,” Regulus said. “Potion or not, I still hear voices in my head and don’t want…” He paused, turning to look at Kingsley in horror.
“What?”
“Never mind. Forget…”
“If it’s a potion, then perhaps a counter potion can solve it?”
—silence—
“I know we can’t take you to St. Mungos, but…”
“St. Mungo's solution to mental issues is to lock people away, regardless of the circumstances,” Regulus said. “Grandfather’s drilled that much into my head.”
“You need help.”
“Not the kind of help St. Mungos offers,” Regulus said. “Grandfather would likely argue I’m better off getting treated by Muggles.”
To which Kingsley stared, caught off guard. He then looked at the ceiling, remembering how Sirius would often rant about the Black family and how much he disliked their ways, their pureblood elite ways, and—
“Let me guess?”
Kingsley attempted looking Regulus in the eyes, but—
Regulus refrained from doing so, his head tilting, a palm of his hand now over his eye. “Sirius has said certain things regarding our family?”
“Then you are related?” Kingsley sat there, watching the boy, wondering—
“Not according to Sirius.”
“Well, I tend not to listen to Sirius,” Kingsley said. “And have learned to be cautious regarding anything he says.”
Regulus looked over, still not making eye contact, grimacing. He then looked away. “We’re not as anti-Muggle as he thinks we are, at least…”
There came a pause as Kinglsey waited, but nothing came.
“You’re supposed to say at least what,” Regulus muttered, his voice straining.
Kingsley looked over, watching the boy snap his mouth shut, looking rather distressed, then …
“I promise! I promise I won’t. , go away already!” Regulus muttered, obviously in distress from whatever potion he was under.
Kingsley instinctively reached out, touching his shoulder.
Regulus—
Regulus reacted, jerking away as if Kingsley ’s touch burned him, yet the bewildered look in the young wizard’s eyes—
He honestly couldn ’t know who or who not to trust as he sat there shaking.
Regulus swallowed.
“You’re safe.”
Regulus stared, then turned his head to look around. He remained in one chair from where he ’d been sitting and faced Kingsley directly. “I am?”
“Dumbledore’s assigned me to care for you, to keep you safe.”
“Nobodiees safe from him. Shouldn’t even be alive,” Regulus muttered. His free hand reached up, tugging at his collar, revealing underneath his wizarding robes—
The boy was heavily bandaged, Kingsley noticed, more than just his left hand that trembled uncontrollably. Yet, Moody told him that part of his babysitting gig would involve caring for the boy ’s wounds, even though he wasn’t appropriately trained as a Healer.
“Dumbledore can keep you safe.”
“And how? How do you know?”
“Because I doubt anyone considered turning to him for help and tried to do it on their own,” and then, “You tried doing it on your own, didn’t you.”
—silence—
And then—
“Yes,” Regulus said. “I refuse to drag anyone I care about into this. Including Sirius.”
“What is with you two?” Kingsley said. “The way you speak of him…”
“I shouldn’t.”
“Because of your family?”
“Oh. She’d be delighted for me to never speak of him again,” Regulus said. “But I can’t…” He frowned. “It’s Sirius who’d rather I never utter his name. Can you blame him?”
“Can I?”
And then—
REgulus, body trembling, pulled up his sleeve, revealing—
Kingsley stared, quite sure the boy was attempting to show him the Dark Mark, only to see a bandaged arm.
“Hey. Stop,” Kingsley reached out to stop Regulus from pulling the bandages off. “I get it. You don’t need to.”
“Then you can’t blame him,” Regulus said. “Knowing what I am. But I’m surprised you’re still talking to me.”
And then came the palm to the forehead, a light tapping of the forehead, and evident frustration on the boy ’s part as he started picking at his neck, only for Kingsley to call him on the destructive behavior. “Dumbledore.”
Regulus tilted his head, pausing.
“Dumbledore has faith in you.”
“Dumbledore thinks I’m a source of information.”
“And if it were merely that, you’d be in Azkaban already, Moody having finished getting what was needed from you, but I think you know that, right?”
Regulus paused, then let out a laugh. “I don’t know what to think anymore. I can’t…”
“Those voices in your head?” Kingsley said, tilting his head. “Yes. Well, perhaps we should tell him about the potion you took? To get that resolved? And no St. Mungos? It’s probably for you, from what you’ve told me, a positive?”
“Potions and spells don’t fix the mind,” Regulus said, turning and sitting there, legs pulled to his chest.
“But one can possibly stop that one potion from messing up your mind even more?” Kingsley said. “And whatever the Muggles do to treat what’s going on?”
Regulus turned his head. “You’d be fine with that?”
“If we can find a way to do it without drawing attention,” Kingsley said. “But if you think about it, it may be easier to get treatment from Muggles. Isn’t one of the reasons Death Eaters who leave aren’t able to stay alive because the world they know is this one? They wouldn’t even think of going and living among Muggles.”
“Muggles…” And then came the blush on the boy’s cheeks. “Uh, yes. That.” He glanced away.
Kingsley watched, saying nothing at first, then, “Is there someone you like?”
Regulus ’ fingers tightened around black curls. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Because she, or he, is a Muggle?”
There came a sigh. “I see.”
“See what?”
“Why they asked you to be my caretaker,” Regulus said. “That, and I am fully aware of the fact I actually can’t take care of myself.”
“Come now. I know the spell or potion…”
Regulus shook his head. “No. I’ve never been able to. Sirius was supposed…”
Kingsley sat there. “What about Sirius?”
“Sirius didn’t care one bit about being my older brother,” Regulus sighed, sliding down slightly. “Can’t blame him.”
“So you’ve been a Death Eater your entire life?”
Regulus turned his head, looking at him, eyes wide.
“Well, right?” Kinglsey said, crossing his legs. “You’re how old now?”
“I’ll be Seventeen this summer.”
Kinglsey stiffened. “So, you’ve not even graduated? Haven’t taken…”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does.”
“You don’t get it,” Regulus sighed, sliding down while covering his eyes. “I can get Os on everything. I’m garanted. I’m not Sirius.”
“And?”
“Throw away the key,” Regulus muttered. “After locking me away. Rejecting everything that makes me me. Never again see the light of day. Never again for anyone to see.”
Kingsley frowned. “Isn’t that…”
And then—
Kinglsey found himself stopping Regulus from covering his mouth in panic, his entire body trembling as the boy muttered something to the voices in his head, telling them to shut up. “Hey! Stop!”
“Don’t! Don’t say…”
“Sirius loves that band,” Kingsley said, holding Regulus at bay as the boy continued trembling.
“He wouldn’t if…” Regulus paused.
Then—
One of Kinglsey ’s eyebrows shot up.
“There is a Muggle girl, then?”
“What?”
“That song about romancing a Muggle girl”
“It’s not a romance, and I never…” Regulus said, then he froze, his face flushing quite red. He turned, his hands jamming into his pants pockets. “It might be, and I might have…” And then he tensed. “Shut up!” His hands clapped over his ears. “I’m sorry! So sorry! Don’t get mad at me, maman! It’s not Sirius’ fault!”
Kingsley took a deep breath. “Yeah. We definitely need to get that potion taken care of and removed from your system. It’s like you’re on a bad trip or something.”
“Sirius would love to see that,” Regulus muttered, having heard despite covering his ears while trying to retreat into himself.
“We’re going to make this work, okay?”
“Sure.”
“Whatever skills you’re missing, we can busy ourselves working on them, right?”
“Right.” Regulus didn’t sound convinced.
“You’ll need a distraction, after all.”
Regulus glanced up, tilting his head ever slightly and looking rather timid, making Kingsley wonder how such a person ever ended up being a Death Eater, let alone why things were strained between him and Sirius. “A distraction. Yeah. That sounds nice.”
“Yeah,” Kingsley said, nodding his head, smiling. “So, relax. Don’t overthink it.”
“I do that a lot,” Regulus muttered, closing his eyes, still cringing as if he could still hear the voices in his head, still curling in on himself.
Yet—
Kinglsey watched, wondering what exactly Regulus got himself into, that Dumbledore stepped in as he did, bandaged the way he was.
“Only six months about, him being of the age that the trace won’t kick in, so why was he in the Death Eater inner circle, granted a Dark Mark despite his young age?” Kingsley let out a deep breath. “One step at a time, Regulus.”
“Right. One step at a time.”