Chapter Text
Author's Note: I know I should be posting new chapters of my WIPs but this plot bunny grabbed me and wouldn't let go until I wrote it out. Basically all in one sitting today, lol. I really hope you enjoy it!
Sirius leapt in front of Bellatrix, immediately finding his rhythm in a duel he was well aware was to the death. After months of being cooped up in his horrible childhood home, he felt a bone-deep thrill at finally being here, at finally doing something. Harry had needed him and Sirius wasn’t about to let anything stop him.
And there he was–Harry–firing off jinxes of his own. His godson was good. Very good for his age. A wave of nostalgia surged through Sirius as they dueled, back to back, taking on the bad guys. It was just like the old days with James. Bellatrix and Dolohov against them.
Sirius landed a good cutting curse at Bellatrix that made her stumble and he turned to the messy-haired wizard at his back, seeing how he’d sent off a jelly-leg jinx that temporarily brought Dolohov down.
“Good one, James!” He yelled to his partner in crime. His grin faltered at the green eyes that met his.
Not James. Harry.
Bellatrix used his moment of distraction to get him on the defensive. He jumped and danced away from her curses, managing to send a few good ones back nonetheless. Dolohov was still after Harry and Sirius cast a strong reducto at a stone column right beside him, knocking him away from Harry.
He looked up just in time to see Bellatrix’s gleeful, manic expression. She let out a curse that pierced him in the belly, pushing him backwards off of his feet. He looked up just as he passed through an ancient-looking arch.
A tingle went through his body and he tried to stop himself, to reverse course, but there was nothing to hold onto. He could see the battle in the ministry but it was as if he were watching it through a window. Everything he cared about was there. He was here, on the other side.
He fought desperately but it was no good. As he flew further from this strange door, all he could see through it now was Harry, his terrified green eyes bright and his mouth opened in a silent scream.
Then everything went dark.
For a time, all Sirius knew was darkness and silence. He was alone – perfectly alone – with nothing but his thoughts.
Was he dead? What a bloody waste. He’d finally escaped from Azkaban and had been able to accomplish exactly nothing.
He’d failed. Failed Harry. Failed James. Failed Lily.
Another set of eyes rose to his mind’s eye.
Regulus.
His baby brother. In some ways, he’d failed him most of all.
Sirius didn’t even know how Reggie had died, but in Azkaban he’d had plenty of time to wonder about it. Had Regulus been in pain? Had he been scared? Had he needed him?
When they were kids, it was just the two of them after all. Their father had protected them from time to time but he wasn’t often around. Most of the time it was Sirius and Regulus versus the world and their horror of a mother.
And then Sirius ran off to live with the Potters and had left Regulus alone at that house.
But Regulus had been a Slytherin and their mother had spoiled and coddled him since the day of his sorting, saving all her venom for Sirius. He regretted that he’d started to see Regulus as one of them, the group of people he hated, who had made his life a living hell. And then he’d learned that Regulus had joined up with the Death Eaters, only confirming what Sirius thought he already knew.
But the truth was he knew nothing. And he wished suddenly, with everything he was, that if his brother had needed him there at the end, that he could have been there.
He wasn’t sure where the thought had come from, but no sooner had he silently voiced the wish that he felt sensation returning. The tingling sensation from earlier was back but much stronger. It was growing painful, as if thousands of tiny needles were pricking into every inch of his skin.
The pain vanished and the next thing he knew, the nothingness had faded to be replaced by penetrating damp cold and an overwhelming feeling of wrongness. His chest constricted. Wherever he was, it was bad news. There was something truly evil here.
But whereas before he was half sure he was dead, now he felt alive. The normal bodily sensations were back, the floaty feeling of before was gone. He was standing on solid ground, wherever he was.
His eyes snapped open at the sound of a low keening whimper from somewhere nearby. It may have been human, but he wasn’t sure.
He looked around but couldn’t make out much. This place was dark, the only lightsource being behind him.
He felt for his wand, relieved to find it was in his holster where he always kept it. He lifted it and cast a beam of light, his eyes widening as his surroundings revealed themselves. He was standing in an enormous cavern beside a black lake.
Sirius took a slow step toward the water's edge, his boots crunching quietly on the dark pebbles. He held his wand higher, angling the light downward.
The surface was like dark glass, so still it looked artificial. But as the beam swept across the pale shallows, Sirius froze, his heart dropping into his stomach.
Just beneath the surface, suspended in the black water, was a face. Pale, sunken, and milky-eyed, staring blankly upward. And beside it, another. And another. Dozens of them, tightly packed beneath the translucent surface, floating like dead leaves in a pond.
Inferi.
A cold sweat broke out across the back of his neck. He stepped back, drawing his wand closer to his chest. He knew this kind of magic—his father had spoken of it in quiet, admiring tones when Sirius was a boy. Voldemort’s army. A graveyard turned into a trap.
Then, cutting through the heavy silence like a blade, came a sound.
A low, strangled gasp. A wet, agonizing whimper that bounced off the jagged rock ceiling and echoed across the vast expanse of the dead lake.
He shone his wand directly in the direction of the voice. A small island came into view. On the island stood two figures – one small and definitely not human. The other…
His heart pounded in his ears. It couldn’t be. His mind had to be playing tricks on him.
After all, the figure was quite distant… plus he knew it was impossible as the man was long dead but…
It looked like Regulus.
The man let out another whimper and Sirius took a step closer to the lake. He stopped just short of the infested waters.
This was a trap. It had to be. Sirius should probably just turn tail and not look back.
But then the man on the island let out a piercing scream and Sirius moved, a decision made before he could process it. He had to know – needed to see if it was really him.
He could see a boat in the distance. He tried summoning it but it didn’t budge.
The human figure on the island was kneeling by a basin, drinking something from a cup. Sirius could tell that with every sip he took, his body shook more and his agony became more intense.
The man was crying.
The sound broke his heart. Something in Sirius just knew this was his baby brother. He couldn’t bear to see him like this.
Regulus looked young. And of course he was. When he’d died, he’d only been seventeen, after all. Just how tragic that was had never really occurred to Sirius, but there it was. Reggie was just a kid, just a little older than Harry. A wave of protectiveness welled up in Sirius’s chest.
Could it be… was it possible this wasn’t some vision… that Sirius was really in the past, witnessing his brother’s last moments?
He had told himself Regulus had gotten what was coming to him by dying in one of Voldemort’s raids. But perhaps he had been terribly wrong.
Suddenly everything felt clear and quite simple. Whatever choices he’d made, whatever their history was, Reg was his brother. And he was standing right there — in terrible agony but alive. Sirius was not going to let him die again.
There was no way he could swim through this water. The Inferi would have him in seconds. He was quite sure he knew who would be sick enough to create a place like this.
Sirius found a large loose boulder and attempted to transfigure it. Nothing happened. He scowled.
With a look back at Regulus, he hurried from the cave. The instant he was outside, he looked around for something he could transfigure. There was a small tree — he quickly felled it and transfigured it into a small boat.
Sirius sprinted back to the cave entrance, levitating his transfigured log-boat, but the passage was gone. In its place was a wall of solid, seamless granite.
"No, no, no—Alohomora! Reducto!"
His spells rebounded harmlessly off the stone, showering him in sparks. On the other side, from within the cavern, he could just make out the agonizing cries that suddenly grew sharper—a rasping, terrified scream that tore through the quiet.
Reggie.
He could almost taste the panic, sharp and metallic, in his mouth. He beat his hands against the stone, searching frantically for a latch, a seam, anything. "Open, you bloody piece of garbage! Let me in!"
His fist slammed into a sharp outcrop of rock, splitting the skin over his knuckles. Warm blood welled instantly, smearing across the smooth gray stone.
The rock pulsed. A faint, crimson light flamed along the cracks where his blood had seeped in, the stone absorbing the moisture like a sponge. With a heavy, grinding groan, the rock melted away, revealing the dark opening once more.
Sirius didn't waste a second to process it. Blood magic. Of course Voldemort would require a price to enter. Wiping his blood onto his robes, he grabbed the boat and surged back into the nightmare.
Absurdly grateful and cursing himself for being an idiot, Sirius levitated his boat hoping this had not all been for nothing. Thankfully, the boat maintained its shape all the way in and he carefully set the boat down on the water’s surface. So far so good. The Inferi stayed dormant.
Again his brother’s voice resounded through the cavern. Sirius had never heard anything quite so terrible as what he was hearing now.
The boy–for that’s what he was–was pleading. He was pleading for death.
Added to his wails were the agonized cries from the elf beside him, pleading him to stop what he was doing. Pleading with him to give up.
Regulus didn’t listen. He just continued to drink whatever the poison was.
Sirius stepped one foot onto the boat he’d transfigured.
Immediately, a deathly-pale arm shot out of the water and grabbed his ankle. He jumped back, just managing to wrench it away. The body sank back down beneath.
He looked up. Regulus had screamed himself out by now but he was still drinking whatever horrible potion or poison was in that basin. His voice was hoarse as he moaned and writhed, nevertheless gripping the side of the pedestal, wrenching himself up again and again.
Sirius couldn’t do this. He couldn't just watch his brother kill himself like this.
He looked around for something else he could use to cross. But all thought fled when he heard the next thing out of Regulus’s mouth.
“Please, Siri… I need you. Help me. I’m—I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” he was sobbing and Sirius had never felt like such a failure as he did in that moment.
The moment thought crossed his mind that his Regulus, originally, had likely pleaded the same way, and Sirius had never heard him—had never even dreamed of something like this.
Regulus’s cries were getting weak, but he kept saying Sirius’s name.
“Why aren’t you here? I’m scared. I’m alone. Why did you leave me? Why do you always leave me alone?!”
He was not about to let Reggie think his cries were falling on deaf ears this time.
With everything he was he yelled back. “I’m here! I’m here, Reggie! It’s me. Now tell me how I can get to you. Can you send that boat back over?”
Regulus froze. He turned in the direction of Sirius’s voice but he didn’t respond verbally. His eyes were glassy. He shook his head and, still crying, drank more of the potion.
Damnit. Regulus probably thought he was a hallucination or something.
But in truth, Sirius didn’t know how the hell he was going to get over there. It seemed his stupid misadventure with the boat had just lost them precious time.
And then something changed. Regulus dropped the cup he’d been using and it made a sharp, loud clank as it rolled against the stones covering the small island. The sound resounded around the cavern. Then he shakily took something from around his neck and gripped the side of the basin, the elf beside him helping to support him as well as he could.
Regulus reached in and pulled something from the basin itself – what it was, Sirius couldn’t see. He dropped something in its place.
And then Regulus collapsed to the ground, handing whatever had come from the basin to the little figure beside him — Kreacher, Sirius was sure — and saying something to the little elf that made Kreacher shake his head back and forth absurdly quickly.
A moment later, Regulus was crawling desperately towards the water.
“Reg, no!” He yelled at the top of his lungs.
For just an instant, Regulus stopped and even met his gaze. At first there was no recognition, only the same glassy look from before. But then there was a spark of something in his eyes. But it wasn’t enough. He dove forward to the water cupping his hands, gathering the water up to drink.
Immediately the lake came alive. Horrible rotting hands shot up to grab the young wizard, and the water near Sirius began to bubble as well with the skeletal bodies of Voldemort’s victims. They were Inferi, hundreds of them. Maybe more. And they were all heading for his baby brother.
Regulus was completely defenseless.
Now Sirius knew for sure he was witnessing what had happened to Reg all those years ago — his brother’s mysterious death had happened here, in this Merlin-forsaken cave.
He couldn’t let it happen again.
He pulled out his wand and began casting long-range Incendios but it was no good. Reg was too far away.
Sirius’s eyes moved to the figure beside Regulus, cringing and wringing his hands in obvious distress.
“Kreacher!” He yelled, and the elf looked up to see him.
“Attack them and keep your master safe! That’s an order!”
The elf snapped into action and began attacking the monsters like a wild thing.
Sirius knew this wouldn’t buy them much time, but at least Regulus was now back up on the shore of the little island.
Without missing a beat, Sirius jumped into the boat he’d transfigured. Now that the Inferi were awake anyway, it hardly mattered if he disturbed them further. He made it speed along, casting a ring of fire around the boat and going through every fire spell in his inventory as he went. The monsters grabbed for him, doing their best to drag him away, but Sirius was not about to let that stop him.
It was as if his core magic was responding to this desperate desire, giving him a power he’d never known before, but every Inferi that tried to get to him wound up burnt to a crisp.
He was close now, but not close enough. Kreacher had been knocked aside and Regulus was again at the mercy of the Inferi. He fought weakly as a group pulled him down towards the water.
Sirius cast his spells at them over and over, but his brother was getting dragged down. Now his whole body was under, his head just barely bobbing above the surface. He was gasping for breath.
“Get away from him, you bloody bastards!”
At the last moment, Sirius found himself in casting range, lighting the monsters on fire. He jumped from the boat and grabbed Regulus around the chest, swimming frantically toward the shore, trying to keep his brother from sinking back under. He used his wand to create the momentum he needed and managed to propel them both up and out onto the shore.
Regulus was coughing and gasping and shivering. He wasn’t particularly heavy, but his clothes had taken on so much water it was a bit of a struggle. He seemed to have inhaled some water so addressing that was first priority. Kreacher had flung himself against the young wizard, sobbing helplessly. Sirius cast a warming charm on Regulus and then stepped between him and the army of Inferi that was crawling up onto the shore. He lifted his wand.
Now that Regulus was behind him and out of firing range, he could get serious.
He spared the smallest of moments to feel some sympathy for the people these things had once been. But they weren’t people anymore. They were just monsters trying to destroy them.
Sirius knew the spell that would work best here. His father had drilled this and plenty of other dark knowledge into them, after all. And as much as he despised dark magic, he knew it was not the time to be squeamish.
He gathered his magic tight around his core. He waited until he could see hundreds of heads bobbing up out of the water. And then he struck.
“Fiendfyre,” he growled.
A monstrous dragon made of flames tore from his wand and surged forward, lighting the cavern in burning red light. With its first soaring lap around the cave, it tore through the Inferi on the shore as well as those showing their heads as they floated around in the lake. It circled above them, waiting. The instant another wave of Inferi showed themselves, Sirius sent his dragon down. It swallowed them whole. Again and again he repeated the action until he had completely decimated the army of Inferi. He felt a sort of dark pride that his control of this spell was just as good as it had ever been. It had been the one he’d most taken to, more than any other in his father’s dark arts lessons.
The cave grew silent.
Sirius waited, expecting a trap. But nothing else came. After a minute of silence, he let himself relax just a bit.
And then he heard a soft voice behind him.
“F-father?”
Sirius flinched. “No.”
He turned around. Reg was shaking terribly as Kreacher tended to him. He was staring at Sirius in bewilderment and something like awe.
“Reg, are you alright?” Sirius immediately knelt by his side, putting a hand on his shoulder.
In answer Regulus swayed and nearly fell forward into him. Sirius caught him by his shoulders and carefully sat him back up. They looked each other in the eye.
“Who—who are you?” Regulus gasped, his voice exceedingly weak.
“What do you mean, you goofball? It’s me!”
When Regulus continued to stare at him in confusion, it hit Sirius.
“Ah, I must look old to you, huh?”
Regulus’s eyes still looked glassy, but then his eyes widened, comprehension starting to dawn.
Sirius spoke again, gently. “I don’t know how I got back here but it’s me. It’s me, Reggie.” He gave him one of his classic devil-may-care grins, though it was mostly forced.
“Sirius?” He croaked. He sounded and looked so terribly vulnerable— so incredibly young.
Sirius smiled. “Yeah, that’s right.”
“B-but how? Why?”
“We’ll have time later. Right now we have to get out of this Merlin forsaken place. I think I got all the Inferi but I wouldn’t be surprised if this place had some more tricks up its sleeve. The question is how the hell we’re going to get out of here.”
Regulus looked rather dazed, his responses slow and sluggish.
In all the commotion both boats had been burnt to a crisp. There was no way back to the entrance beyond swimming through the dark waters.
Sirius looked around trying to find some way out and then his eyes slid down to the ancient elf clasping Regulus’s hands. He never would’ve considered the elf being useful in the past, but now they were pretty much out of options and he had to consider everything he could.
“Kreacher. Can you apparate us out?”
The old elf didn’t say anything at first. He just stared at Sirius with a very confused look in his eyes.
“You… you are bad master Sirius? You broke your mother’s heart, you is bad son, you–”
“Never mind that,” he snarled. “I ordered you to save Regulus's life, right? You’re not done. I need you to get us out of here. Can you do that? And uh, take me with you.”
With a jerky nod Kreacher grabbed them both and a moment later, they were gone.
They materialized back at Grimmauld Place in Regulus’s bedroom. Sirius frowned but realized he shouldn’t have been surprised. He hadn’t specified where the elf should take them, after all.
Now in the light of the bedroom Sirius could see just how bad Regulus looked.
Kreacher had resumed his noisy crying. He was fussing over him.
“Merlin, Reggie what the hell was that stuff you were drinking?”
Regulus was clearly still not all right. Silent tears were drifting down his cheeks and he was staring at Sirius as if he were a ghost.
“Kreacher, stop your blubbering and bring him some potions. Now. I’d say at least Draught of Peace and Dreamless Sleep to start.”
Kreacher did not argue.
Moments later Sirius was helping Regulus to sit up and the young wizard compliantly drank both potions. Within moments he was asleep.
Sirius gently lay him down on his pillow after cleaning him with magic. He then pulled the thick covers up and watched him in silence for a while.
Regulus was alive.
He’d actually done it, he’d managed to get there in time to save his brother. How and why he was here in the past, he had no clue. But now that he was, he was only glad.
The thought of what a horrible death his brother had endured originally made his chest cease up in horror. Originally, Regulus must have been dragged down beneath those unforgiving black waters by hundreds of rotting bodies. Had most likely become an Inferi himself. It was a fate worse than death, and it had been his brother’s fate all those years with Sirius none the wiser.
“I’m sorry, Reg. I’m so sorry. I’ll be there for you now. I’ll make sure you get all better.” He leaned down and gently kissed him on the head.
Chest bursting with emotion, he turned to see Kreacher was staring at him, an unreadable look in his eyes.
“Kreacher.”
The elf didn’t speak.
“What the hell was that place and that awful stuff Reggie was drinking? Look, you can tell it’s me, can’t you? Even though I look different? You’re bonded to our family.”
Slowly, the elf nodded.
“Why are you old?” The elf asked suspiciously in his typical direct style.
“I’m from the future, dammit. Look, I know you and I have never seen eye to eye but right now we’re allies in trying to get Regulus well, okay? So tell me what you know.”
“It was—“ the elf started but quickly collapsed into sobs.
“Bloody hell, come on. I don’t want you to wake him up.”
Sirius dragged the elf out of the room.
No sooner had they closed the door that Sirius heard a voice.
“Regulus?”
He froze, his heart jumping into his throat. That voice was one he hadn’t heard in twenty years. It hadn’t even occurred to him. The thought had not crossed his mind that at this time his father was still…
Orion Black came around the corner and immediately his wand was out, his expression fierce.
“Who are you?” He snarled. “How did you get through the wards?”
Sirius knew it was perhaps foolish but he didn’t raise his own wand, though he moved one hand to rest on his holster.
“You can’t tell?” He said boldly. “Look at me. Look at me closely.”
Sirius stared directly into the eyes of the man who had always seemed so impossibly old and unapproachable to him as a boy. Now they were only fourteen years apart; while not nothing, it made a substantial difference. Sirius flicked his hair back in his habitual way, a motion he knew Orion had seen him make countless times.
The wizard’s eyes narrowed and his wand dropped just a fraction.
“It’s impossible.”
“It’s not. It’s me.”
Orion cast a blood identification spell and his eyes widened as he read the clear result. Then he pierced Sirius with a sharp gaze as if trying to see through him.
“Tell me, then—what is the name of the charm I taught the two of you in this very room when Regulus was nine and terrified of the dark?"
Sirius closed his eyes for a moment, the memory washing over him with surprising clarity—a rare, quiet moment of fatherhood in a house usually filled with screaming.
"It wasn't a standard charm," Sirius said softly, opening his eyes. "Noctis Custodia. A localized warding spell to keep the family portraits from whispering while he tried to sleep. You made me practice it until my hands shook so I could cast it for him when you were away at the Ministry."
Orion’s breath hitched slightly. He raised his left hand, visually tracing the magical signature pulsing around Sirius's aura.
"You have my blood," Orion said quietly, the tension in his shoulders finally giving way. "And you possess memories I have shared with no living soul—not even Walburga." He lowered his wand completely and spoke carefully, quietly. “Sirius?”
“Hello, Father.”
“What is this? Some sort of aging draught? And why are you here? If your mother sees you–”
“It’s not an aging draught. It’s not that simple.”
“Come. You too, elf,” Orion gestured them into the next room, which happened to be Sirius’s room. Orion cast a privacy ward and locked the door.
Sirius looked around and noted once again that it was curious how the room had been left largely untouched. His own rebellious teenage decorations, including Gryffindor banners, Muggle motorcycle posters, pictures of bikini-clad women, and a photo of the Marauders were all still there.
Casually, he said, “I’m surprised dear old mum didn’t toss all this in the bin.”
“She was not permitted to,” Orion said stiffly. “Leave though you did, you were still my son and heir. I would not suffer her to touch anything that had been yours.”
Sirius swallowed past the lump in his throat. He chanced a look at the pureblood aristocrat he’d always resented for not making things better for them at home. The man was watching him evenly with blazing gray eyes.
“I don’t recall you ever putting your foot down much when we were children.”
“I wasn’t Lord Black back then. I am now. That carries weight, Sirius. Even Walburga cannot entirely dismiss it.”
Sirius searched his father's face, looking for the catch—the smug aristocrat playing a game, the cold politician angling for advantage. But Orion’s expression remained steady, almost solemn.
“Well uh... thanks, I guess,” Sirius muttered, running a hand through his matted hair, feeling suddenly exposed, surrounded by his teenage Gryffindor banners. “For keeping Mum from burning it.”
“You still have a home here, if you ever decide you wish for it,” Orion said quietly, stepping further into the room. “I admit... I always held out hope you would return to me someday.”
The words felt heavy in the quiet room, almost absurd. A home. Sirius swallowed past a sudden, dry lump in his throat. Part of him wanted to laugh bitterly—where was this Lord Black when Sirius was sixteen and packing his bags in the dead of night? But looking at Orion now—seeing the faint silver at his father's temples and the genuine, quiet regret in his posture—the snappy retort died in Sirius's throat.
Sirius took a deep breath. This was not what he’d expected.
Thankfully, Orion spoke before Sirius was expected to respond. He wasn’t sure what he’d say to his father who had apparently not despised him as he’d assumed all these years.
“You say this is not an aging draught. What is it, then? A high-fidelity glamour? I have never seen one quite like this but I do not presume to know everything there is about magic.”
Sirius shook his head. “Not a glamour. This is what I look like, Father. This is me. This is real.”
Orion was silent for a moment. “Time travel?”
“It’s 1979, I presume? A few hours ago I was living in the year 1995.”
“How?” Orion’s voice was carefully even.
“Not exactly sure. I was involved in a battle in the depths of the Ministry of Magic. They have all sorts of weirdness down there. Bellatrix caught me off guard, sent me through an archway. I was sure I was dead… but then I ended up back here instead.”
“Bellatrix did?” Orion breathed. “A sad day, indeed, when family takes up their wand against family in battle.”
Sirius didn’t feel that merited a response.
Orion just stared at Sirius then, taking him in, his eyes narrowing. He stepped forward and lifted a hand.
Sirius’s entire body went rigid. His muscles locked, every instinct from his time in Azkaban and on the run screaming at him to swat the hand away, to reach for his wand, to put distance between himself and a Black. He forced himself to stand his ground, but his breath hitched sharply as Orion’s fingers lightly touched his cheekbone.
The touch wasn't harsh. It wasn't the heavy-handed grip of a punishment. It was gentle—terribly, surreally gentle—the thumb tracing the hollowed skin beneath Sirius’s eye.
A knot of cold suspicion twisted in Sirius's gut, fighting violently against an old, child-like ache he thought he’d buried decades ago. Orion had never touched him like this. Not when he was a boy, not when he left for Hogwarts, and certainly not when he ran away.
“This is really you?” Orion murmured, his eyes searching, almost terrified of the answer.
“Yeah,” Sirius rasped, his voice rougher than he intended. He took a deliberate step backward, breaking the contact, wrapping his arms defensively across his chest. “It’s me.”
“How old are you? You mentioned 1995? So you would be thirty six?”
“Yes.”
“I would have thought you’d look…”
Sirius let out a rough, unamused laugh. “What, less like shite?”
Orion just stared. “You look as if you’ve lived with ghosts, son.”
“That would be precisely accurate, father.”
“Explain.”
“Maybe. Maybe I will. But aren’t you forgetting something? Namely, your other son?”
“The wards alerted me to his return. I assumed he had turned in for the night.”
“He is home. He is here. But he’s been through a lot. And he very nearly didn’t make it back tonight.” Sirius pierced Orion with his gaze. “In my original timeline, he didn’t.”
“Tell me everything. Now.” Orion’s voice had taken on a steely glint.
“Kreacher is the one who knows the most. In fact, he and I were about to have a nice little chat when you found us.”
“Then Kreacher, speak now. What happened to Regulus?”
Kreacher’s eyes widened at the direct order from Lord Black. He was clearly undergoing a massive internal struggle. He managed to rasp out under great strain, “Lord Black must promise not to punish Master Regulus.”
Sirius was shocked the elf had the nerve or even ability to speak back to Orion Black like this. He had to admit he was impressed.
But it had clearly cost the elf, who was now on his way to punishing himself with one of Sirius’s old beater bats. Sirius grabbed it away before the elf could get his hands on it.
“Very well, Kreacher. I promise.”
Sirius turned to Orion in shock.
“But I am losing my patience. Tell me what happened,” Orion bit out.
Kreacher nodded jerkily and began to talk. He told them of how Master Regulus had confided in him many times that he regretted taking the mark, having only taken it due to his mother’s pressure and the expectations of his family. But seeing the methods the Dark Lord used, not just on muggles and muggleborns but on half-bloods and even purebloods as well who didn’t toe the line, he had quickly wished to remove the brand. But it seemed hopeless so he had mostly resigned himself to his fate.
“I had no idea his misgivings were so strong,” Orion whispered. “He looked unwell, certainly not happy, but he would reject my overtures any time I tried to approach him. Eventually I admit I left him to his business.”
“The Dark Lord did not know,” Kreacher whispered. “Master Regulus was sneaky. But then–then the Dark Lord ordered Master Regulus to deliver Kreacher to him to use as a blood sacrifice. Master Regulus, he… he did not tell me what he planned when we went to that cave,” he choked. “But as we crossed the dark water, he said… Master Regulus told me he had learned the Dark Evil wizard’s secret. Kreacher tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“Dark evil wizard’s secret. So he’d discovered one of Voldemort’s secrets and wanted to do something about it?” Sirius asked.
The elf flinched and jerkily nodded.
“What was it–the secret?”
Slowly Kreacher revealed the locket from his pocket.
Sirius reached out for it, but Orion quickly pushed his hand away just as Kreacher jumped back.
“No! Master Regulus gives me orders to destroy. I will do that,” he hissed.
“Alright, but do you even know what it is? If that’s something of Voldemort’s it’s gotta be super dangerous. You need my help. If we’re up against Voldemort then we’re allies, Kreacher. Don’t be stupid.”
“Sirius, this is far worse than whatever you’re thinking,” Orion said, his voice perfectly controlled. “Kreacher. Do you feel that object is ridding you of life force?”
Kreacher shook his head slowly. “No, Master Orion.”
“Then you may remain its guardian until we determine how to destroy it. It cannot be destroyed by normal means.”
“You know what it is, Father?”
“I have a strong suspicion. If that is the Dark Lord’s treasure, as Kreacher put it… and seeing as what the object itself was originally…” He stared at it almost in awe. “The dark tug I feel emanating from it, all of it together gives me quite a strong theory. But let us wait until Regulus wakes before jumping to conclusions.”
Kreacher was talking again, on autopilot, looking as if he’d seen a ghost.
“Kreacher tried to stop him. Kreacher tried to drink it for him. But master Regulus would not allow me the honor. He said it would kill me.”
Kreacher collapsed into sobs.
Noting how Kreacher’s disjointed story had left Orion rather confused, Sirius began to speak.
“Maybe I can fill in some gaps.” He took a deep breath and continued. “I appeared in this time in that awful cave Kreacher mentioned. It was full of the thickest dark magic I’ve ever felt. You could almost cut it with a knife. There was a large underground lake there. It was full, absolutely full, of Inferi, father. My suspicion is that’s where Voldemort’s been stashing his dead bodies. All new recruits for his Inferi army.”
Sirius swallowed. “There was an island in the middle of the lake. Regulus was there, and Kreacher. Reggie was drinking some sort of terrible potion or poison from a basin. I’ve… never seen such a horrible sight. The way he cried, the things he said…” he trailed off. “Kreacher, what was that stuff?”
“Kreacher also does not know, but… he suspects it was the Draught of Despair.”
Sirius’s breath caught in his throat and he met his father’s identical eyes.
“Why did he drink it?”
“The Dark Lord’s treasure… it was there, at the bottom. The only way was to drink it. Master Regulus would not let Kreacher drink it no matter how Kreacher wished to sacrifice himself. Master Regulus said no. Kreacher has never known torture like this.”
“The locket you just showed us, in other words.”
“Yes.”
“Father,” Sirius turned to Orion. “In my timeline, Reg didn’t make it. I wasn’t around to know what had happened, but now I’m certain he didn’t make it out of that cave.”
“So what happened differently this time?”
“This time I was there. And I incendioed the fuck out of those zombie bastards.”
“How many Inferi did you say there were?”
“Hundreds, maybe upwards of a thousand. I didn’t exactly stop to count,” Sirius snarked.
“And you’re telling me you destroyed an army of Inferi with just light fire magic?” He asked dubiously, one eyebrow raised.
Sirius scowled. “Fine. I may have had to use a little more firepower than that.”
Orion smirked. “You always were talented. And of that spell in particular, you had the most remarkable control. Almost better than my own. I recall the way you would make little fire creatures to entertain your brother when you thought I wasn't watching. I can’t imagine what you could do with it now as an adult.”
Sirius found himself frustrated that the man’s words actually had some effect on him.
“Anyway, it worked. I was able to save Reggie with help from Kreacher here and now Regulus is in his room trying to recover under dreamless sleep. That’s basically everything that has happened since I got here.”
Orion was very silent. Without a word, he opened the door and crossed the hallway to Regulus’s room, Sirius and Kreacher tailing him closely.
Once there, Orion stared at his younger son with an unreadable look. Eventually he raised his hand and gently brushed Regulus's dark hair back from his forehead.
He motioned and they again followed him back into Sirius’s warded room.
He turned to Sirius and Kreacher.
“Thank you. Thank you both for saving his life,” he said thickly.
Sirius nodded.
“Now it’s your turn, Sirius. It is clear to me you have suffered tremendously. You are not the boy you were, and I’m not talking about your age.”
Sirius grimaced. “Yeah, well thirteen years in Azkaban will do that to you.”
He looked up to see his father’s face was a mask of horror.
“Azkaban,” he breathed.
“Yeah. It was exactly as awful as you’re thinking. To top it off, I was framed, too. And I never got a trial. Was never cleared either, never released. I managed to escape, though… had to, to save my Godson.”
For a long while there was absolute silence in the room. Finally Orion spoke. “Why didn’t I do anything? Why did I do nothing when you were falsely imprisoned?”
Sirius looked surprised. “Well, you were already long dead then.”
“Dead?”
“Yes. You died this year, actually… of what, I’m not sure…” Sirius felt suddenly suspicious.
Orion's form stiffened. "Is that so..." A moment later, his blank mask was back. “And what about Arcturus? Lucretia? They should have spoken up for you.”
“Nope, not a peep as far as I'm aware. So much for family loyalty. Anyway, they're all dead where I'm from in any case. In my time, literally the only Blacks left are me, Bellatrix and… well, Andy and Cissa, I suppose. And their kids."
Orion digested that for a long moment.
“And your mother?”
Sirius let out a harsh, barklike laugh. “Mother? Are you kidding me? She was probably pleased. She sure as hell did nothing.”
Orion nodded. “You have given me much to think about, son. Thank you for sharing this."
“Wait. What about mother?”
“She is currently away visiting your Aunt Lucretia and will be for the next day and a half. When she returns, I will deal with her,” Orion said, his jaw set in a firm line.
“Father. She’s…”
“I know what she is. We can discuss this more later. For now, it is late and you have traveled quite the distance to be here. I recommend you sleep."
“We’ll see. But fine, I guess it’s true I’m about to pass out. I’ll try to get some rest.”
"If you need anything to eat, just call Kreacher. And Sirius?"
“Yes?"
“It is… good to see you. Even under such circumstances.” He smirked. “And with you looking more like my peer than my son.”
Sirius rolled his eyes. “Hey, it’s weird for me too! You don’t look old to me anymore. Do you know how strange that is?”
As Orion turned to leave, Sirius said softly. “Father?”
“Yes?”
“I’m… glad to see you too. It’s been twenty years since I last saw you, you know,” he looked down, feeling somewhat awkward. He looked up at the feel of his father’s hand gripping his shoulder supportively.
“As I said, you will always be welcome here with me.”
Sirius slowly nodded, trying to process that.
“Goodnight, Sirius. Try to get some rest. I will put monitoring alerts on Regulus’s room to alert us the moment he wakes up.”
Sirius nodded and watched his father leave the room.
Who would have thought that he’d have an interaction like that with his father? His strict, severe, aristocratic, pureblood, dark magic-loving father… a man who had apparently cared about him all this time.
None of this was what Sirius had expected. He climbed into bed. His mind wandered in a million directions at first but the sheer exhaustion hit him and he was out in minutes.
The next morning, Sirius was jerked into awareness by a pulsing, magical alarm. He looked around. He was in his bedroom at Grimmauld, same as he'd been every morning for the past year and a half. His room in the house he'd hated growing up in, that had now become his prison post Azkaban.
That darn alarm was still going off and it was giving him a headache. What was that?
He blinked a few times and then suddenly it all came back in a rush. He bolted up, his heart racing.
"Reg," he whispered. Had it been a dream? Or had it really happened - the cave, the Inferi, his little brother's agonized cries...
He jumped up and grabbed his wand, refreshing his clothes -- he clearly hadn't changed for sleep. A moment later, there was a knock on his door.
“It’s me,” the low tones of father’s voice sounded through the door.
Sirius swallowed. Well that proved it... he really was here, back in the past. It hadn't been a dream after all.
Sirius pulled open the door and stared at Orion Black. They were of equal height now, their identical grey eyes drilling into one another.
“I heard an alarm. I assume Regulus is up?”
“That is my assumption as well. I was just about to go see him. Shall we?”
They crossed the hallway together and Orion knocked on Regulus’s door.
The instant they pushed the door open, Regulus shot straight up in his bed.
“Father!”
And then his eyes moved to land on Sirius. He stared at him in confusion.
Sirius cast a privacy ward on the door, wary of all the nosy portraits in the hallways, and took a step closer.
“Hey, there,” he said gently, offering Reg a small smile. “How are you feeling? Do you remember what happened yesterday?”
Confusion followed by a wave of fear crossed Regulus’s eyes. He looked up at Sirius with narrowed eyes that widened slowly in comprehension. “The Cave," he whispered. "And the Inferi… you," his eyes widened further, "You destroyed them. You destroyed them all,” he whispered, awe in his tone.
“Well,” Sirius cleared his throat. “I wasn’t about to let them get away with messing with you, Reg.”
“Who are you?"
Sirius frowned. “I already told you that last night. You don’t remember?”
"No," he shook his head slowly.
"Oh..." Sirius hadn't expected that he'd have to drop the bombshell all over again on Reg.
“Don't look at me. You’re on your own,” Orion smirked.
“Geez, thanks a lot, Father.”
“Why did you call him that?” Regulus asked sharply. “I only have one brother, and you’re not him.”
That hurt, even though Sirius understood.
Sirius stared at the pale boy sitting on the large four poster. He was older than Sirius had ever seen him and yet he was so terribly, painfully young. The horrible sound of his cries, pleading for Sirius to help him played in Sirius's ears. Regulus was now staring at him with suspicious, narrowed eyes.
Sirius sighed. "Actually, Reggie… I am him. I’m just uh, from sixteen years in the future."
Regulus’s eyes dragged over Sirius’s face—tracing the deep lines around his eyes, the faint scars, the heavy exhaustion etched into his features. Regulus swallowed hard, backing up an inch into his pillows.
"You’re lying. Sirius is... He doesn't look like..." He trailed off, his voice cracking. “Father?” Regulus asked weakly, turning to Orion.
“I confirmed it, Regulus. This is Sirius, no matter how hard that is to believe.”
Regulus turned his gaze back to Sirius and the two brothers held a solid gaze for a long moment.
Regulus must have seen something he recognized, for suddenly he gasped as something shifted in his gaze. “Sirius?” He whispered, his voice thick with disbelief.
Sirius slowly walked around the bed until he was right there beside Regulus.
“I’m here.”
“I-I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either, Reggie. I thought I’d died in my time. Instead, I found myself in that cave with you.”
“You saved me. You saved my life but… but Sirius hates me. Y-you hate me.”
Sirius flinched as if Regulus had thrown a hex straight at his chest. The word hit him like a physical blow. "No," Sirius said roughly, his voice dropping an octave, fierce and desperate. "No, I never hated you. I was an idiot, and I said horrible things to you I didn’t mean. I should never have said those things. And I never…” He choked. “I never got to tell you I didn’t mean them. I never knew what happened to you.”
“What do you mean?” Regulus whispered.
“In my time, Reg, you never made it out of that cave. And I never knew what happened.”
Regulus shivered.
“But I missed you. And I regretted the way I’d been, the way I’d just abandoned you,” he said hoarsely. “I convinced myself you’d be fine, that I wasn’t doing anything wrong when I left. But part of me knew the truth, even then. And then you died before you’d even had a chance to be an adult. And I… I was your big brother, dammit. It was my job to protect you and I completely failed you. All those years locked up in Azkaban, you have no idea how many times I sat with those thoughts. And then yesterday when I saw you there in that cave,” he croaked, “You were in pain, and I realized I didn’t care what you were doing. I didn’t care if you were trying to help Voldemort or if you were trying to stop him. I just knew my little brother was in pain and I had to do something. I didn’t want to leave you alone again. I wasn’t going to.”
Regulus’s eyes were bright. “It’s really you,” he said in awe.
Sirius nodded.
“Siri,” he whispered very softly and extended his hand towards his older brother. Sirius caught it before he could retract it and squeezed it gently.
"It's really me," he confirmed gently, and the next moment, Sirius sat down on the side of the bed and gathered his brother in his arms, pulling him into his chest in a tight, fierce hug. Regulus felt absurdly small in his arms—just a boy, barely grown. At first Regulus stiffened, his breath hitching. And then, slowly, his hands came up to clutch at the back of Sirius’s robes, clinging to him like he used to when they were kids.
They stayed like that for a long while. Sirius knew he was tearing up and could tell from the warmth on the front of his shirt that Regulus was doing the same. He didn’t mention it. He just held him.
I hope you liked it! I have a good idea of what I want to do with this. It's not going to be super long. Let me know your thoughts!