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, but the curtains had remained open.
He yawned and wiped some sleep from his eyes. Perhaps they could go back to Andromeda and Bellatrix and play outside some more, now that there was still snow out. He didn’t know if the snow would stick around for long and he really wanted to play in it. And if he asked nicely, he was sure Mother and Father would let them go. They understood things like these were very important to him. There were only so many weeks in the year that he could see his cousins at all, and even fewer in which he could see them in the snow.
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 that’s outside,’ he protested. ‘There are Muggles outside.’
‘Nah, Muggles can’t go out in the snow,’ said Sirius. ‘I went with Uncle Alphard last year, and we didn’t see a single one!’
Regulus hesitated. ‘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. Come on, let’s go have fun in the snow. Please?’
Sirius’ pleading eyes and enthusiastic smile were enough to break his protests, 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 freezing cold, snowy street. But he didn’t think to get his cloak. He couldn’t think about anything; his heart and mind were both completely 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, again, several times, to calm his nerves, that he’d gone to the park just last year, with Uncle Alphard, and that Muggles didn’t go there. That Muggles couldn’t go there now, because of the snow. Sirius also said the park wasn’t far and that it would be so much fun once they got there.
And he believed him. And followed him. And the park wasn’t far, indeed. Just at the end of the street they could see it. It was all covered in snow (which they quickly took to crunching 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 really feel the cold. he regretted that he hadn’t thought about his cloak, or scarf, or mittens, or anything warm enough for these temperatures. But it wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t known this would happen. He hadn’t woken up thinking he’d leave the house like this.
He drew his thin 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. At least he’d worn a cloak then.
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.
‘Of course I 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 next to 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. Only it was far meaner and scarier and about to eat them both. He shivered, but not from the cold.
‘What’re you wearing?!’ it howled.
‘Could ask you the same thing,’ said Sirius bravely, puffing out his chest.
‘I’m not wearing an ugly dress, little girl.’
‘I’m a boy,’ said Sirius defiantly.
‘Then why are you wearing a dress?’ it laughed again.
‘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. ‘Well, you look like a little girl –’
‘Better than looking like a baby 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.’
‘That your baby sister back there? 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 again. ‘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 up the steps to their house 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. ‘Thanks.’
Sirius jumped up very suddenly just then, 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 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. 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.’
Regulus dropped into the seat next to Sirius, trying not to make a sound. Mother and Father were both silent as well, and nothing happened for a long, long time, and Regulus couldn’t help but notice how awful they looked. Both were still in their nightclothes, and their hair was dishevelled and their eyes bloodshot. Father was clutching the table as if it were the only thing keeping him upright. Mother’s hair was falling out of its pins. They both looked like ghosts.
Were they ill? Or was all this because of the wine Sirius had mentioned? Either way, the silence couldn’t mean anything good, so he closed his eyes, taking this time to focus on staying perfectly still, hoping if he didn’t move, nothing bad would happen, and this all would be over soon. At least this awful silence. Why wouldn’t they just start shouting already?
But shout, they didn’t. When Father finally broke the silence, all he said was, ‘You sneaked out.’
‘Prove it.’
Regulus’ eyes snapped open at his brother’s reply, and he shrank into his chair, bracing himself for the worst.
But Father only let out a long, tired sigh, pulling out a chair and sitting down.
‘I have no time nor patience for your games. We know you left. Kreacher woke us to tell us the two of you had left the house, through the front door, with no protection. Have you any idea how dangerous that is?’
Dangerous.
He looked away again. Yes, he knew how dangerous it had been. He knew what Muggles did to young wizards. He knew they had got lucky; they’d only narrowly escaped the Muggle in the park.
And he’d been so scared …
Everything in him was heavy with guilt, and it only worsened at the sight of Father’s weary face.
‘We didn’t mean to,’ he said quickly, hoping it would make things better, but it only earnt him an elbow to the rib from Sirius. ‘We’re sorry.’
‘No, we’re not,’ Sirius shot back. ‘It’s just down the street. Nothing happened.’
‘You reckless, arrogant –’ Mother’s hand shot across the table and Regulus flinched back so hard his chair squeaked. Sirius didn’t flinch at all, but she still missed him. Her hands were shaking just as hard as his own.
‘It was an accident!’ Regulus blurted out before she could try again. ‘We didn’t mean to! Sirius just wanted to go to the park, and I didn’t want him to go alone!’
Mother’s eyes snapped to him. They were awful when they were like that, wide and full of fury. For a moment, he thought she’d go for him. But she didn’t. She didn’t even yell.
‘If either of you ever pull a such a stunt again –’
‘Walburga …’ Father sighed.
She glared at him, but said no more.
Father looked at them again. ‘What your mother means to say is that the world out there is dangerous. Anything could’ve happened, and if it had, we would’ve lost you.’
‘Why?’ Sirius asked, crossing his arms. ‘What’s so dangerous?’
‘We’re in the middle of Muggle London! You could’ve been captured. Killed.’
‘We almost were captured,’ he admitted, feeling worse than ever. ‘And … and … Well, there was a Muggle, and it was saying all these things …’
Sirius laughed. ‘It was a child. Our age. Hardly a threat. I handled it, though.’
‘Barely!’
‘I did better than you!’
Father’s fist slammed the table, silencing them both. ‘Enough! You never should have been anywhere near such a thing!’ He took a deep breath. ‘But what matters now is that you are safe, and that you stay safe. You will not be leaving this house again. Understood?’
Regulus nodded so fast his head hurt. ‘Yes, Father,’ he whispered.
Sirius just mumbled something.
Father leant back, rubbing his temples, and sighed, ‘It’s too early for these kinds of conversations’, even though it had to be almost lunchtime by now. Regulus tried not to think of what Kreacher would make them. It wasn’t important. He had to keep his focus on Father.
‘Now, listen carefully,’ Father said, shifting in his seat, glancing back at Mother. ‘Don’t feed the dragon; it will come back for more. And what happens when you have nothing left to give? It will burn down your house.’
‘What dragon?’ asked Sirius, looking over at Regulus as if to say, ‘are you the dragon?’, and for once, Regulus was glad Sirius asked. He really hoped he wasn’t the dragon. He had only been playing last night, it hadn’t been real.
‘I do not mean a literal dragon,’ Father explained. ‘It’s a figure of speech. What I mean is to be careful around … around certain witches and wizards.’
‘What witches and wizards?’ asked Sirius.
Father sat there for a few moments, saying nothing, but looking like he was turning something over in his mind. Then he finally spoke up, ‘It all started when a few Muggle-loving imbeciles decided it was a great idea to spread their ridiculous nonsense –’
‘What nonsense?’ Sirius cut in.
He sighed. ‘These wizards started saying that Muggles are the same as us, that we are equal –’
Mother – who had taken to pacing up and down the dining room – interrupted, in a low growl, ‘Yes, that filth might try to get rid of us, and dismantle everything we hold dear, but mark my words: they’ll pay for it! Oh, yes, they shall, if any of the stories are true …’
‘Walburga, dear, I was talking to the boys.’
‘Oh, give it a rest, don’t pretend you don’t agree! We all know it’s high time someone actually did something about this! Talk is no good for anything!’
‘Walburga!’ Father barked, and she sat down at once (but she still looked really, really angry, and Regulus was glad Father was with them. He felt a little safer with him there).
Father turned back to them. ‘So, this group of … Muggle-sympathisers gained some popularity back in the day. Keep in mind this was long before you were born, and even I am too young to know the specifics. All I know is that by now, there are a lot of people who believe them, who think it’s true, what they said.’
‘FOOLS!’ Mother suddenly bellowed, making Regulus jump so hard he nearly fell off his chair. ‘They are all FOOLS to underestimate us, to think these riots are the worst we have in store for them! But they’ll regret underestimating us soon, oh yes, just watch!’
Regulus didn’t know what ‘riots’ were, but Mother sounded so scary when she said it that he didn’t really want to know what they were either. She just raged on and on and there seemed to be no stopping her.
‘Dearest –’ Father tried, but she didn’t listen.
‘You know as well as I do that these riots of the last few weeks have been a necessary show of strength! We shall not back down!’ she yelled.
‘Of course not, my dear –’
‘And you know that it’s not going to be enough! Those filthy gnome-brained Muggle-mingling –’
‘Walburga! There are children present!’
‘But they will NEVER back down unless we show them what we are truly capable of!’
‘And I am trying to explain the situation and you aren’t helping!’
Mother quieted at last, her face still red with anger. It made him feel really small, and he didn’t know what to do. It was strange to see them fight like this. Not that they were always on the same page, but they never got into these kinds of arguments. At least, not in front of them.
He looked to his brother for guidance, but Sirius just shrugged. Regulus wanted to sink into the floor. Why did Sirius never care about these things? Why did he never care, when Regulus knew he was clever enough for it? Sirius was the cleverest boy he knew. He had to understand it all. But himself … all he knew was that the grown-ups were scared. Father was scared. And that was terrifying. He didn’t need to understand much more than that to know it was serious.
He lay his hands neatly on the table and sat upright, eyes fixed ahead; he wouldn’t let Sirius distract him.
Father cleared his throat. ‘Back to the matter at hand. Once these … sympathisers achieved their goal – putting Muggles and their ilk in a less negative light – they decided that wasn’t enough. They wanted more. They made more propaganda –’ (Regulus didn’t know what that was, either, but he wasn’t stupid enough to ask with Mother there) ‘– and sent us to contaminate our precious blood with that scum. And that is where I draw the line; that is where anyone ought to draw the line. It is also where the (figurative!) dragon comes in; those kinds of wizards and witches are the dragons. And hungry ones, at that. You don’t feed them. You don’t compromise. If you do, they will come with more demands. They will stop at nothing to weaken us. They will stop at nothing to destroy us. And that is their ultimate goal: to destroy the wizarding world.’
‘But –’
‘Silence!’ Mother yelled, and Regulus flinched again. He was always the flinchy one when it got to moments like these. That was why he tried his very best to avoid these moments, unlike Sirius, who seemed to thrive under them and sought them out. Like now. He was grinning from ear to ear as he watched her flash her fist high in the air.
‘You mustn’t be swayed by misguided notions of tolerance and compromise!’ she screamed, and Regulus thought she might choke, her face was so red and swollen. Several of her pins had already fallen out and now lay scattered across the table and floor. ‘YOU MUSTN’T FALL FOR THEIR LIES!’
‘Walburga, that’s enough,’ Father said sternly. ‘It’s been a long day and we’re not getting anywhere with this.’
‘But they must understand! If they don’t, we’ll lose them, with Dippet gone …!’ Mother went on.
Father sighed and turned to them. ‘Boys, please, go. Go to your rooms.’
Regulus sprang to his feet at once, but the sudden movement sent a wave of dizziness over him and he had to steady himself for a moment.
Sirius remained seated. ‘But I –’ he began again, only to be cut off by Father.
‘Do not make me repeat myself,’ he said severely. ‘I think you’ve caused enough trouble for today.’
Mother let loose with string of swear words she’d never let them say, and Regulus left the (still-spinning) room. He knew Sirius wasn’t following him but he still left as quickly as he could. And he didn’t look back. He didn’t want to see Mother’s face again. Especially not when he heard her shrieking start again.
He went up the many stairs that led to his bedroom and once there, he threw himself onto the bed. He realised at once how utterly exhausted he was, and allowed himself to close his eyes. They hurt and felt gritty, like there was sand in them, and he fervently hoped he wasn’t going to cry.
He did.
His tears had only just dried when Father came to his room, softly knocking on his door before entering.
Regulus sat up slowly, to keep the world from spinning again.
‘Father,’ he murmured, ‘I’m sorry, I really am, I shouldn’t have –’
Father raised a hand, silencing him. He could hear Mother downstairs, yelling, the sound of objects shattering echoing all the way to his room through the open door. He shrank back on instinct, and Father’s face softened. He closed the door, shutting out the noise.
‘I’m not here to scold you any further,’ he said kindly. ‘I expect you’ve already learnt your lesson.’
Regulus tried to swallow but his mouth was too dry. It hurt.
‘Are you still angry with me?’ he asked.
‘Angry?’ Father repeated with a hint of surprise. ‘No. I am not angry. I am sad. Disappointed. You let me down. I trusted you and your brother and you betrayed that trust.’
He looked away. Guilt and shame washed over him once more as the words echoed strangely in his ears.
He’d let him down.
‘I really am sorry …’ he whispered.
‘Apologies won’t heal these wounds.’
He tried to swallow again, but there was nothing there. ‘I know.’
‘Look at me, son.’
He did, glancing up at Father, who now sat on the edge of the bed, his dark robes pooling around him. He’d changed, Regulus realised, and that wasn’t the only thing that was different. His hair was neatly combed back and tucked beneath his hat, and his eyes had lost their bloodshot look, and he seemed more capable of supporting himself. He no longer looked as tired, as dishevelled, as he had downstairs, and that was quite the relief.
‘Son, I know today has been overwhelming, but your mother and I …’ He paused, sighing heavily. ‘We want only what’s best for you. For both of you.’
‘I know,’ Regulus said again, and another silence followed, in which he had no idea what was expected of him, so he could only sit, hoping he held himself correctly. He couldn’t even decide if he was to look directly at Father or just past him, or at the floor or his hands, or anywhere else. He grew more and more uncomfortable by the second and could feel his father’s piercing gaze dig deeper and deeper and deeper …
‘Do you understand what I was telling you earlier?’ Father asked, making Regulus look up again.
He had. He understood some of it, at least, and not all of it had been new, either. He knew the world was a bad and dangerous place. He knew that they had to stay inside because that was where they were safe. Family kept them safe from the mean, evil Muggles lurking outside. Muggles that wanted to hurt him and take him away and eat him up. He knew and understood all of that.
But then Father had said those things about the dragons that weren’t dragons at all and that even some witches and wizards weren’t to be trusted, that they were mean and liked Muggles …
‘I think you don’t want us to talk to the wrong people,’ he said carefully, studying Father’s face, looking for clues if he was right.
Father nodded. ‘Yes. You are young, impressionable … They will spin you tales of kindness and equality, but in truth, they only seek to weaken you, to turn you against your family so they can take what’s yours. Do you understand?’
He nodded. ‘They’re the dragons,’ he said.
Father smiled. ‘Yes, they’re the dragons,’ he agreed, and Regulus could almost see them crawling through the snow outside, breathing fire, waiting for the next meal … But the dragons were people, and dragons in his mind took the shape of witches and wizards, waiting in the shadows, waiting to lure him to them, with their mean eyes and ugly faces –
‘The world has grown to hate us, son,’ Father continued, ‘and people are greedy. They want everything we have: our name, our knowledge, our blood. And if they can’t have that, well, then we can’t either. So to them, we must be diluted. We must lose ourselves and become something lesser. And if we don’t agree – and we won’t – then we must disappear. They want to tear us all down, and they will use any means necessary to do so.’
‘Why do they do this?’ he asked in a small voice. ‘Why do they hate us so much?’
‘Because we’re better. And they know it.’
Regulus nodded slowly, and he could already feel the tears coming again. He’d been so stupid, going out with Sirius. They were so lucky to still be alive.
Father put a hand on his shoulder, somehow both soft and firm at the same time. ‘I don’t say this to frighten you.’
‘But if they hate us that much … what if they get to us?’ he whimpered, his mind showing him the bloodiest, most horrifying images it could think of. ‘What if they hurt us?’
Father pulled him close, letting him bury his face in the soft fabric of his robes as he tried not to think about the scary Muggles in his head.
‘They won’t hurt you,’ Father said. ‘I’ll make sure of that. But you need to promise me one thing.’
Father pulled away slightly and Regulus looked at him expectantly.
‘Never leave this house again.’
‘Yes, Father,’ he said quickly, relieved it was an easy promise; he didn’t even want to leave the house any more. The world outside was awful and strange and dangerous and it made Father sad and Mother furious. He didn’t want to make them sad or furious ever again.
Father smiled kindly down at him and wrapped him in a final embrace before getting up from the bed. He smoothed his robes and made way for the door, but paused for a moment. ‘Keep out of trouble, son. I do not want to have to have this conversation again.’
He nodded, searching for the right thing to say, but Father was already turning away.
‘Stay in your room. I’ll speak with your brother.’
And just like that, he was all alone again, left with nothing but his thoughts. And his thoughts were horrible, because Father was right. They could have died. Could have been captured and killed by that Muggle. So many horrible things could have happened all because they had sneaked out of the house when they had had absolutely no reason to. So repeat awful people were out there. Out there to hurt them. To trick them. To hand them over to those hungry Muggles …
Why had he agreed to go with Sirius?! Why had he helped him with the chair and followed him outside?! Why, when he knew full well what dangers lay out there? Why, why, why – ?!
He pressed his hands over his ears, but that only made his thoughts louder, thoughts about the Muggles. What if the Muggle child from the park was a spy? What if it had seen where they were going? What if it had already told the other Muggles where they lived? What if the Muggles were already outside the door, in the snow, waiting? Waiting for him to come out again so they could take him away and eat him. Destroy him. And Sirius. And Mother, and Father …
He slid off the bed and went over to the window. His hands trembled as he cleared the frost off the glass, and he pressed his face against it so he could look at the snowy street below. The cold window felt good against his hot forehead, and he had to force himself to keep his eyes open, to not fall asleep right here. But he was so tired. So very tired.
He had to keep focus. He had to see if the Muggles were here. He peered outside, fighting the urge to lick the window, and saw nothing. The street was empty.
But that didn’t mean they weren’t out there, waiting, watching …
He stepped back fast and yanked at the curtains, tugging them shut as quickly as he could – what if they saw him? Then they knew where he lived! – and dived back into bed, wrapping the blankets all around himself, his knees drawn up to his chest.
He tried to calm his racing heart. Tried to convince himself the Muggles weren’t out there, hadn’t seen him, weren’t coming to get him. He tried to convince himself Father could stop them if they did come. Father could stop anything.
He held his breath and sat still. He listened.
All he could hear was the beating of his own heart. He could feel it, too. Not just in his chest but also in his head, just behind his eyes. And it hurt. It hurt so much. His throat hurt, too. He tried to work up some saliva to swallow but his mouth was too dry, and the attempt only made his throat hurt worse.
He let out his breath; he couldn’t hear Father anyway. Or Mother. Or Sirius. He couldn’t hear anyone.
He closed his eyes. It did little to relieve the pain in them, but did allow him to think. But all his thoughts took him back to this morning, and how he’d failed as a brother and a son. He imagined that was what Father and Mother were talking about with Sirius now, as well. He imagined there was a lot of yelling and throwing things, and Sirius would laugh and say they were being dumb.
He imagined them saying his name, blaming him, saying he should’ve stopped Sirius. And they were right, of course. He knew they were. He should have stopped him.
It was all his fault. All of it. His fault.
He pulled the blanket tighter until it covered his face, pressing his fists against his chest in an attempt to get his heart to just slow down already, because he was safe. Father had said so. He was safe inside the house. He was safe. And he would make sure he’d stay safe, too. And that wasn’t so hard. All he had to do was stay in the house and be good. And he wanted to be good. Desperately. He wanted them all to be good. All of them, together, the way it was supposed to be. He wanted to make Father proud, to make Mother stop shouting.
He just wanted everything to go back to how things used to be before he’d turned seven.