Regulus swallowed the great lump that formed in his throat and allowed Uncle Alphard to take him firmly by the arm, to steer him back towards the house. They passed Andromeda on the way there and she walked with them, her back hunched and her her head bowed, her hair hiding her face. No-one said a word, but he could still hear them. Andromeda’s cries and shouts for help, Uncle Alphard’s furious face. His ear still throbbed and burnt and served as a good reminder of what was waiting for him if he did tell anyone about what he’d seen.
And there was no lying to Uncle Alphard, there was no workaround. He’d know. So Regulus was bound to his promise, now and forever.
It weighed him down, that threat, so that by the time he set foot in the dining room, his legs were heavier than ever. He was glad he could sit down, glad Uncle Alphard did the talking when Mother asked where they’d been. Uncle Alphard just smiled and said they’d gone for a walk. Everyone believed him, of course, because he was a grown-up, and grown-ups never got questioned. But since Regulus and Andromeda had been with him, no-one cared to ask them any more about it, and that was quite a relief. Regulus wasn’t sure if he could keep up a lie to Mother. Not about something so … so serious as this. But he had no other choice. He’d promised …
Thankfully, food was served just then, giving him something else to think about. It looked good. It even tasted good. Far better than he’d expected, because his aunt and uncle had prepared it all themselves. They had no house-elf and they’d turned down Father offering Kreacher’s help, which Regulus still thought was strange.
Yes, Regulus was impressed with the food and the way they’d prepared it. What he was less impressed with was the entertainment offered at the meal. Everyone just kept talking about Quidditch. Just Quidditch. Quidditch this, Quidditch that, endless talk about the latest match … Even Sirius talked all about it, very loudly, saying all sorts of things when he hadn’t even seen it!
Regulus didn’t care. Didn’t care that the Chudley Cannons had lost to the Kenmare Kestrels with something ridiculous, eight hundred and seventy to zero. Didn’t care that the game had counted seventy-two fouls. How could he, when all he could think about was Andromeda, and how miserable she’d sounded, how miserable she looked even now?
She sat across from him and hadn’t said a word all meal. She just pushed her food around the plate. Her eyes were red and puffy and if he didn’t know better, he might have thought she’d start crying right there at the table. He did know better, though. She wouldn’t cry, because she was a Black. Blacks didn’t cry. Certainly not at dinner.
Still, he felt bad. He wanted to help her, or at least tell someone she was sad, so they could help her if he couldn’t.
But he couldn’t tell anyone. Not even Mother or Father. He wasn’t allowed.
He tried another bite of food, turning it to mush in his mouth. He didn’t really taste it. He wasn’t really at the table, even if his body was. He put his fork down. His hands were shaking a little, and he wasn’t hungry any more. He just couldn’t stop hearing Uncle Alphard’s voice in his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about what was wrong.
He kept his eyes on his plate for the rest of the meal. He didn’t eat much. He didn’t talk. He just waited for dinner to be over.
And then, it was. Dinner was over, dessert had been served, Christmas wishes exchanged, and he could finally leave the table.
And with every step he took, every step away from the table, away from Uncle Alphard, he felt lighter. And so he left the dining room, and he went downstairs. He took his cloak and left the house, feeling free as ever.
And colder than ever.
Snow crunched beneath his feet and the air was harsh, biting at his nose. He took a few more steps and looked around the grounds. There wasn’t a speck of grass visible any more, it was all gone and covered in a thick layer of pearly white, untouched snow.
It was still snowing now. Tiny snowflakes fell down on his outstretched hands, slowly melting away at his touch.
He laughed in amazement and his breath came out in little puffs of smoke, like a dragon. Like a great, majestic, fire-spewing dragon. Yes, that was what he was, a dragon, a Hebridean Black, and it was fire that made the smoke, and not the winter air!
He blew another puff of ‘fire’, admiring it for a moment. Magnificent. He’d tell Sirius. Sirius would be jealous. Well, Sirius would probably say something stupid about dragons having bad breath. But he could deal with that. He just had to tell him!
He spun around, already bracing himself for the comment on his bad breath –
– but Sirius wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t. He’d run off on his own, without his brother for company.
He sighed and looked at the puff of smoke that came out with it, but it wasn’t as fun any more. It wasn’t fun when he was all alone and there was no-one to see him be a dragon.
So what was fun? He looked around the grounds best as he could, to find something to do through the falling snowflakes, at the snow-covered house. But everything looked so different in white, it was as if he’d never been here before. The door to the house was even different. Or …
He frowned. The door was different because it was open. And he’d swear that was his brother standing in the doorway … Yes, it was! He left the house now, clearly visible, dragging a disgruntled Andromeda by the sleeve. And Bellatrix trailed after them.
He didn’t waste another second and ran to catch up with them, to ask them to play, to tell them everything about the smoke and the fire and him being a dragon. Oh! and they could be Muggles trying to capture him! And then he’d –
WHACK!
Something cold and wet hit his cheek, and now it burnt like icy fire. His hand flew up and caught bits of snow trickling down into his neck. Across him, Bellatrix stood grinning, the snow she hit him with still clinging to her gloves.
‘Oh,’ he said, plucking the rest from his face and neck. ‘You dare.’
He then scooped up a fistful of snow and threw it sloppily towards her, as another snowball exploded against his right arm.
‘You’ll – you’ll regret that!’ Regulus sputtered, scooping up more and more snow, and hurling it straight at her chest.
Bellatrix gasped as it hit her, then grinned. ‘So, you want war, little cousin?’
‘War? I am above war. I fear no witch or wizard,’ he said, making himself grander and taller, flapping his arms like wings. ‘I am a dragon, a Hebridean Black, and I –’
Two snowballs hit him at once, one to the chest, one to the neck. He shrieked (very bravely) and retaliated wildly, fistfuls of snow flying in every direction.
Yes, this was war.
And the war raged on between the four of them, and lasted for what seemed hours, until they were all soaked and freezing. Andromeda was the one to stop it. She was waving her arms around with much dramatics, shouting that she couldn’t feel anything in her body any more, and called for a truce.
‘Coward!’ Bellatrix declared, tossing one final snowball that nailed her in the ribs. But Andromeda only gasped and brushed the snow off her winter cloak. There was no retaliation. Sirius, too, lowered his hands, dropping the rest of his snowballs.
Regulus was secretly glad. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could do this, with fingers that felt like ice. And his toes were most definitely gone. But saying that wasn’t very brave, and he was a dragon. So he tried not to look too happy about it and nodded solemnly as he said, ‘Yes, well, dragons don’t really like snow, anyway, so it’s fine if we quit …’
And he was just about to suggest going inside when Bellatrix seized him by both arms.
‘What – Bellatrix, no – no, wait – !’
But she didn’t listen to his protests. She spun him in a wide circle, faster, faster until the world blurred into streaks of white.
‘Come on, little dragon!’ she said, ‘take flight!’
She spun him in one last dizzying whirl and let go. For half a second, he was actually flying, and he flew a glorious two feet – but then he landed, hard, flat on his back in an explosion of muddied snow. The world tilted a bit, and it kept spinning before his eyes. His ears rang and his back hurt. He blinked up at the grey clouds and wiped off some snow as the world around him slowed.
Then Andromeda appeared in front of him, and she helped him to his unsteady feet. His legs hurt, too, he realised, and his arms. Everything hurt. But it didn’t matter. Because they were going inside, and Andromeda helped him get there.
Once there, Bellatrix told them all to take their clothes off and put them by the fire, which they did. They huddled together by the same fire, the three of them: Andromeda, Sirius and himself. Bellatrix had left to get them all some hot chocolate milk from the kitchen. She came back with four steaming mugs a few minutes later – a few minutes in which Regulus had regained just enough feeling in his hands to carefully take his mug off the tray. But it was hot and hurt his hands, so he winced and nearly dropped it.
Bellatrix raised her eyebrows. ‘Too hot?’
He shook his head and forced himself to hold onto the mug, despite the stinging in his fingers. He held the mug with as little skin contact he could, but it still hurt. But pain was weakness, and he was strong. A dragon. A Black.
‘Dragons don’t mind heat,’ he said, and took a gulp of the burning hot liquid. But he didn’t flinch, and that felt very brave indeed.
But, as with everything in his life, Sirius had to ruin it.
‘You sure didn’t look like a dragon!’ he said loudly. ‘When you fell, you looked more like a flobberworm. A flobberworm with fake wings that thinks it can fly but it can’t. Because it’s a flobberworm.’
‘I’m not a flobberworm!’
‘Are too!’
‘Am not!’
‘Are too!’
‘Well if I’m a flobberworm, then … then you’re a – a dog!’
‘Boys,’ Bellatrix warned, handing Sirius his mug. ‘If you start fighting, I’ll feed you to a real dragon.’
Regulus gasped. ‘I am the real dragon!’
That made Bellatrix laugh. ‘Then you’ll have to eat yourself, little cousin.’
Sirius howled with laughter at that, nearly toppling over and spilling his hot chocolate everywhere. Bellatrix could only just catch it.
‘All right,’ said Sirius, when he calmed from his laughing fit enough to keep the chocolate safe, ‘if Regulus is a dragon, then I’m a knight. And I’ll slay you, Reggie!’
‘You can’t,’ Regulus said quickly. ‘Dragons don’t get slayed.’
‘Oh, but they can get slain,’ Bellatrix said softly, staring into her own mug. ‘Everything can, and all living things die. Dragons, knights, even Blacks …’
Andromeda frowned. ‘Stop it, Bella.’
Bellatrix shrugged. ‘I’m only saying the truth. He’s old enough for it.’
‘He doesn’t need to hear it.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s Christmas.’
Bellatrix cackled. ‘And we can’t mention death on Christmas?’
‘No,’ said Andromeda fiercely. ‘We can’t.’
Regulus stayed quiet. He didn’t want to make the argument worse. He didn’t want to have to choose sides. He didn’t want them to fight over him at all, or what he knew; he just wanted everyone to be happy, and he wished once more that Narcissa had been here with him. She’d know just what to say and do. She was good at these things.
He wasn’t.
So he just held his cup close and watched the fire crackle and shift. He thought about dragons and knights, thought about Uncle Alphard and what had happened earlier today. He wanted to ask Andromeda if she felt better now, or if she was still sad. But she was still arguing with Bellatrix. And Regulus wasn’t sure if he was even allowed to ask her that. He didn’t want to accidentally break his promise. Uncle Alphard would know. And he didn’t want to find out what would happen then.
And so the question went unanswered, and he turned back to his drink, taking sip after sip until he’d drank it all. The conversation around him turned cheerful again and the fire was warm and fuzzy. He was starting to get a bit drowsy when Mother and Father came in and said it was time to go home. Regulus wished they could stay longer, because everything just started feeling normal again, but he didn’t argue. He knew it was pointless. He just gathered up his clothes (still a little damp from before), and waited by the fireplace for Sirius to do the same.
‘Say goodbye nicely,’ Father said, when they were both ready to leave.
Regulus did. He thanked his aunt and uncle politely, like a proper Black. But when it was time to say goodbye to Uncle Alphard, he stiffened. His throat closed up, and he couldn’t get a single word out. He bowed his head quickly and hurried after his mother, clutching her cloak. They travelled by Floo powder and Regulus didn’t let go of her until they emerged in drawing room back home.
Sirius and Father appeared not long after.
‘Go upstairs, both of you,’ Mother said, unfastening her cloak to get all the soot off. ‘Kreacher’s left hot water bottles in your beds.’
He left without argument, tiredness taking over his aching limbs, so that the bed looked very inviting when he reached his room. He climbed in, curling up beneath the covers, the bottle pleasantly warm against his skin.
The warmth of it swallowed him within seconds, and he drifted off to sleep.
When he next awoke, it was light out, and it was precisely this light that had woken him. He hadn’t closed the curtains when he went to bed last night. He hadn’t done anything at all. He’d just dumped all his clothes on the floor and gone to sleep.
The clothes were gone now, cleaned by Kreacher, no doubt.
He yawned and wiped some sleep from his eyes. Perhaps they could go back to Andromeda and Bellatrix and play outside some more. If he asked nicely, he was sure Mother and Father would let them go. So he got out of bed and quickly dressed, only to come downstairs to a deserted house. Were they still asleep? He was halfway back up the stairs again to check when he ran into Sirius.
‘Come on!’ Sirius urged him. ‘Let’s go to the park. Come on!’
‘The park?’
‘Yes! The park! It’ll be so much fun!’
‘But Mother and Father –’
‘Are asleep. Please, this is our one chance!’
‘But what if they wake up, and –’
‘They won’t wake up. They had enough wine to fill a river.’
Regulus hesitated, but Sirius’ enthusiasm was contagious and he ended up helping him drag a chair from the dining room, to pin in the doorpost, so the door couldn’t fall closed with them outside (the door was opened with a wand and neither he nor Sirius had one of those). Then they climbed over the chair and stood outside in the snowy street.
His heart was out of control. He’d never left through the front door, not more than a few steps anyway. He’d certainly never gone down into the streets. But Sirius told him it was safe. Sirius said he’d gone to the park just last year, at Easter, with Uncle Alphard. Sirius said the park wasn’t far and that it would be so much fun once they got there.
So he believed him. And followed him.
The park wasn’t far, indeed. Just at the end of the street they could see it. It was all covered in snow (and the brothers quickly took to crunching it all up with their feet), but still the field was clearly in a good state, with no huge pits or anything of the sort.
It was only when they’d stamped their feet on every free, untouched inch of snow that he started to feel the cold. Regulus hadn’t taken his cloak, nor was he wearing a scarf or mittens or anything warm enough for these temperatures. After all, he hadn’t known this would happen. He hadn’t woken up thinking he’d leave the house in this manner.
He drew his robes tighter around himself, as thought tight robes (wet from the snow) would somehow keep in more of his warmth than they would if he let them flow freely. He rubbed his hands over his covered arms but that didn’t help, either. He was freezing, and it was somehow even worse than yesterday.
He looked to Sirius for guidance, but Sirius seemed unbothered by the cold. He had made his way over to the swings.
‘Bet I can climb higher than you!’ he called, his hand already wiping the snow off.
‘You can’t even climb that!’ Regulus objected, rushing over.
‘Of course you can! Watch this!’
‘Sirius, no!’
But Sirius didn’t listen. He hoisted himself up, his feet slipping on the ice-coated seat – he caught himself in the ropes and found his balance, and grinned widely down at Regulus. ‘See? Easy.’
Regulus watched him lean back and howl with laughter as he swung upwards. He watched him hold onto the ropes and kick his feet in the air. He watched him go higher, and higher – he lost his hat with a gust of wind, but didn’t mind it, for he could almost reach the top. And Regulus didn’t go to get it back because he just couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scene. He just couldn’t.
Sirius swung higher and climbed higher and reached the bar the ropes hung from, and clasped his arms around it, letting go of the swing and hanging fully from the frame. And he pulled himself up with such strength Regulus couldn’t help but be amazed.
‘Told you I could climb it!’ Sirius shouted as he swung one leg over the top bar and perched there, as if it were a throne and he the King.
‘But what if you fall? Mother’ll –’
‘I’m not going to fall. You’re just jealous you can’t climb – !’
‘Of course I can!’ he retorted, crossing his arms in annoyance.
‘But you’re too scared to try, aren’t you?’
‘I’m not scared!’ Regulus said automatically, though his legs were still rooted to the snowy ground. ‘But you’re going to break something, and then Mother will kill us both!’
‘Mother can’t see us,’ Sirius replied nonchalantly. ‘You worry too much, Reggie. Have some fun for once!’
‘No! You get down right now!’ Regulus shouted, stamping his feet in the snow as if that would somehow put more force behind his request and make Sirius listen to him. He glanced around nervously, half expecting their parents to storm down the street, fuming with anger, wands raised.
Instead, he saw something far worse: a small figure trudging toward them through the snow. A figure wearing odd clothes.
‘Sirius,’ Regulus hissed sharply. ‘Sirius, someone’s coming!’
Sirius didn’t seem remotely concerned, still grinning like a fool and bouncing slightly on the bar. ‘You can’t trick me into coming down.’
‘Sirius, I mean it! It’s not a trick. It’s – it’s a Muggle!’
The figure was close enough now, coming straight at them, and Regulus felt as though he were being suffocated. All the air left his lungs and they wouldn’t fill again, they flattened and so did he. He felt himself grow smaller and smaller the closer the Muggle got to him.
The world was spinning. Was this the end?
Then he heard talking. Sirius had come down at last and stood in front of him.
The Muggle laughed, head shaking as it did so. It had huge eyes, red cheeks, and a long, red nose. It looked angry despite the laugh and resembled a tall goblin more than anything. Maybe it actually was a tall goblin.
‘What’re you wearing?!’ it howled.
‘Could ask you the same thing,’ said Sirius.
‘I’m not wearing a dumb dress.’
‘They’re robes, pea-brain.’
Regulus reached out for Sirius and caught hold of his sleeve. He instinctively placed himself behind his big brother.
‘“Robes”?’ The Muggle sneered. ‘You look like little girls!’
‘Better than looking like a troll with a snotty nose,’ Sirius shot back, taking a step towards the Muggle.
Regulus hastily pulled on his sleeve, which he still clutched in his hand. ‘Sirius … let’s just go home. Please.’
‘What’s the matter, little girl? Gonna cry?’ the Muggle asked, shifting its attention to him.
Regulus’ face flushed and his fear intensified. Through his mind shot all sorts of scenarios: the Muggle would bring them back to where it lived, to boil them and turn them into a stew or roast them over an open fire …
He looked around the park and it suddenly became very clear to him how alone they were, how all those houses were occupied by Muggles that would help out in this task, that would never protect them.
He inched closer to his big brother. ‘Sirius –’
He realised, then, that Sirius had balded his fists up at the Muggle, threatening to take it on with his bare hands.
He flinched and pulled on his arm. ‘Sirius, please, let’s go!’
For once, Sirius didn’t argue. He scowled at the Muggle but backed away, tugging Regulus along. ‘Fine. You’re not worth it, anyway.’
The Muggle laughed again as they hurried off. ‘Yeah, run away, little weirdos! Go cry to your mummy like the babies you are!’
They did.
They ran along the entire street they’d walked that morning, they ran until they saw their house. They ran up the steps and clambered over the chair which still stood pinned in the doorpost. They only stopped to catch their breath when they’d barricaded the door with the very same chair. Then they slumped to the floor and rested.
After a few minutes, Sirius burst out laughing.
Regulus looked up to him in confusion. They’d narrowly escaped being boiled alive; it was no laughing matter.
Sirius grinned down at him. ‘You know, for a second there, I thought you were going to cry.’
‘I was not!’ Regulus snapped, but the pink in his cheeks betrayed him.
Sirius just laughed. ‘Don’t worry, Reggie. I’ll protect you from all the scary Muggles.’
Regulus wasn’t sure if he meant it in jest or not, but he smiled warmly at his big brother and put his head on his shoulder.
The peace didn’t last very long.
Sirius jumped up very suddenly and started dragging the chair back to the dining room. Regulus helped him lift it up so they could better carry it, and he opened the door to the dining room so they could put it back at the table (but hadn’t they left it open when they’d removed the chair?).
They closed the door behind them again and made for the stairs. If they were quick about it, they could change into different clothes before Mother and Father woke up. These were dirty and wet around the hem, from the snow. And Sirius –
‘Your hat!’ he cried. ‘We haven’t got your hat!’
‘My hat?’ Sirius patted his bare head with his hands and turned in circles, as if trying to find it on the floor behind him.
Regulus shook his head, tears creeping back to the surface. ‘It flew off at the park. I didn’t get it, I was watching you …’
A wave of panic flashed across Sirius’ face. He ran his hand through his hair. ‘All right. All right. No need to panic,’ he said, though it seemed to Regulus that he was saying it mostly to himself.
‘We’ve got to go back for it.’
‘It’s just a hat,’ said Sirius, ‘it’s not worth the risk.’
‘Aunt Lucretia gave you that hat for your birthday last year,’ Regulus protested. ‘Mother and Father will notice –’
‘I know that!’ Sirius spat. ‘You should’ve got it back when –’
‘I would’ve if you hadn’t climbed those swings!’ he interrupted. ‘And if you hadn’t climbed those swings, you never even would’ve lost it!’
‘So you’re saying it’s my fault?’
‘Yeah, it is!’
‘Well, if you hadn’t been such a baby –’
‘I’m not a baby!’
‘You nearly pissed yourself back there! Because of a Muggle child!’
‘You’re the worst brother in the whole entire world!’
‘What? Because I’m telling the truth? We could’ve easily got my hat if you hadn’t insisted on leaving.’
Before Regulus could open his mouth to protest further, he heard the high-pitched shriek that could only belong to Mother, coming from the top of the stairs. Sirius had to have heard it as well, for he grabbed Regulus and pulled him into the dining room again, and they hid behind the dresser that held the family china, hoping Mother and Father wouldn’t come in and see them, and figure out they’d left.
The shrieking continued. Mother was clearly coming down the stairs. Regulus held his breath as her words became clearer and clearer.
‘Well, we can’t just let them ruin everything! We can’t just let Mudbloods of all things take over –’
‘Little late to start worrying about that now, isn’t it, dear? We’ve already got rid of Leach –’ came Father’s ever-calm voice.
‘Get your nose out of those stuffy papers and look around you for a change! Leach could be dealt with. It’s those – those – It’s the others we need to watch out for!’
‘Is this a rather late reaction to Dumbledore taking over as Headmaster of Hogwarts, then?’
‘Don’t tempt me.’
The door to the dining room opened again. Regulus pressed as far back into the wall as he could.
‘I wouldn’t dare,’ Father said. ‘So what is this about?’
‘MUDBLOODS –’
‘Yes, yes, Mudbloods and Mudwallowers at it again,’ Father said, nodding along as he pulled up a chair for her. ‘But what’s so important you have to raise the issue now of all times? In front of the children, no less,’ he said, gesturing at them both.
Regulus’ heart caught in his throat. Sirius grinned sheepishly. The both of them took a small step in their parents’ direction, at Father’s beckoning.
Mother stared at them. She just stared at them. For a good ten seconds, Regulus was convinced she would be furious and lash out at them. Instead, she just nodded.
‘They deserve to know,’ she said. ‘After this morning …’
Father glared at her for a few moments, and she glared back.
‘If you don’t tell them, I will.’
‘Fine,’ said Father. ‘Boys – sit down.’