All he had to do was make sure they realised what they’d done to him. All he had to make sure was to— Was to what? Get his mother to say she was sorry? Get his father to say it would never happen again? Don’t be ridiculous, he told himself. As if that would ever happen. As if Mother and Father would ever stoop that low. He rummaged through his drawer and pulled out the parchment that held his two firm statements from months before, when he’d just made the resolution to be better than Sirius. I am not my brother.I will be a good Black. He smiled. Suddenly, the way to make this year’s birthday just as great a disaster as the last was pretty obvious to him. He just had to outshine his brother, or put him down as someone who had no respect for the family or their values. Neither of this was particularly difficult, seeing they were true. Regulus had worked so hard to be better than Sirius and Sirius had been off doing nothing with Alphard, making a mess out of rhings. But he supposed it was also… well, pretty obvious. After all, wasn’t that what he’d done last year to wreck his birthday? Though it hadn’t been as planned as it was now… No, he could do better than that, he figured, as he stuffed the parchment into the pocket of his robes, so that it was near at all times, and he could get the courage he needed from it. He had to do better than that. Thankfully he had a little while left before he absolutely had to act on it – the birthday hadn’t truly started until the guests had arrived, after all. He descended the many stairs that led to the ground floor, and heard the voices and clattering cutlery coming from the dining room. It enraged him, hearing the cheerfulness with which Sirius spoke. The carelessness. As if none of it mattered. As if it was just another day. He put his hand into his pocket, grazing the parchment. He was better than that. He had to be. And he’d show it. The chatter died out the moment he stepped inside, and he felt three pairs of eyes on him. Mother, Father and Sirius sat at the table and had stopped eating to watch him come in, but now resumed. And they had plenty to choose from, for the table was laid out with all sorts of things: pears, plums, cherries, raspberries, strawberries, blackberries, but also wafers, and smoked kippers, and scrambled eggs, and sausages with mustard, and spiced sweet potato pie, and toast with honey, and an array of fresh breads... He only realised he’d been staring when he heard Mother’s stern voice cut through his thoughts. ‘Sit.’ And so he sat, opposite his brother, carefully avoiding his gaze. He knew he ought to say something, tell him “Happy birthday”, but the words seemed stuck in his throat. He just couldn’t say them. Not when things were so unfair. Not when he’d spent his own birthday feeling miserable and all alone; Sirius didn’t deserve a happy birthday either, and so he wouldn’t wish him one. But Sirius had different plans. ‘Morning, Reggie!’ he said cheerfully, stuffing a handful of strawberries into his mouth. He looked perfectly content and wholly unbothered by the unfairness of it all – but of course he wasn’t bothered by it. If he’d been bothered by such things, he wouldn’t have asked to go to Uncle Alphard’s. He wouldn’t have abandoned him all month. He wouldn’t have done any of that. He balled his fists beneath the table and tried his best to focus on something else. ‘Guess who’s ten today?’ Sirius continued. When Regulus still wouldn’t answer, Sirius got up from his chair. ‘I am,’ he announced grandly, waving his arms dramatically. ‘Practically a grown-up. Did you know wizards in Ancient Mesopotamia came of age at ten? Uncle Alphard told me that.’ ‘Uncle Alphard,’ Mother cut in, ‘is not an authority on Ancient Mesopotamian wizards, no matter what he’d like you to believe.’ ‘But he is,’ Sirius replied with a grin. ‘He’s got this book—’ ‘Eat your breakfast.’ Sirius sat down again but didn’t stop. Instead, he stuffed his hands into the pocket of his robes and said, ‘Want to see what Uncle Alphard gave me? You left so quickly last night, you didn’t even see! Here, they’re dragonhide gloves, from a Norwegian Ridgeback, he said. Did you know he spent a year looking after one? Oh! And I also got this brilliant little compass which points to wherever you’ll find the most interesting thing. And’ – he dug his hands into his pocket again – ‘And this is—wait, where is it… I had it—oh, here! This one’s the best.’ He pulled out a black lacquered case with a silver clasp, engraved with the family crest. It glinted faintly in the light. Sirius snapped it open before Regulus was done looking at the outside, but he had no time to be disappointed about that, for inside, nestled in green velvet, lay a wand. Regulus’ mouth fell open at the sight. A wand? Uncle Alphard had given him a wand? He had to manually close his mouth – he already saw Mother’s disapproving look and didn’t want to make things worse – and watched in awe as Sirius pulled the wand out of the case and gave it a swish and a flick towards the fruit bowl. ‘Wingardium Leviosa!’ A pear floated up, bobbing gently above the table. Mother made a sharp noise, but Sirius just laughed and grabbed the pear. ‘Uncle Alphard said I ought to get the feel of it early, so I can be top of the class later. At Hogwarts, you know. He says it’s all in the wrist.’ Mother made another sort of noise, but Sirius was still smiling, eyes gleaming with excitement. ‘You can try it if you want,’ he said, holding the wand out to Regulus. Regulus looked at the wand, then at Mother, whose expression was still stern and watchful behind the rim of her teacup. He shook his head. He would be the good son. Good sons didn’t do such things, and especially not at breakfast. Good sons waited until it was their time to get a wand, and didn’t break the rules. ‘Suit yourself,’ Sirius said, shrugging and taking a bite out of the pear. It was silent for a few moments, in which Regulus tried to force some toast down his throat, which proved to be more difficult than he’d expected. ‘You’ll get loads of things when you turn ten,’ Sirius said, breaking the short-lived silence before Regulus had even finished his slice. ‘And Uncle Alphard’ll probably give you something even better then.’ Regulus took a sip of his pumpkin juice to try and wash the horrible taste away, and said nothing. ‘I told him you’d like the compass,’ Sirius added. ‘He wanted to give it to you. But I said I wanted it. So you got the dragon instead. Maybe when you turn ten you can have a compass, too.’ Regulus still didn’t reply. He took another bite of toast and chewed, chewed, chewed... ‘You should come next time. To Uncle Alphard’s. He said you could, you know. If Mother says yes. Oh, will you say yes, Mother?’ he asked, turning to look at her. She sighed and set her cup down with a loud clink. ‘What I will say is that I think that’s quite enough talk of Alphard for one morning.’ Sirius frowned slightly but didn’t argue. Instead, he reached for a wafer and began to spread it with raspberry jam, licking a bit off his fingers as he did so. Regulus looked away from him in disgust. He hated how easily Sirius could go from being told no to … to behaving so badly, as if daring Mother to scold him, punish him... It was as if nothing ever touched him. It was as though nothing even could, for neither Mother nor Father said anything about it. He swallowed his dry toast. Sirius was now drumming his fingers on the table, turning the tablecloth pink from the jam. ‘Anyway,’ he drawled, ‘you didn’t even hear what I did at Uncle Alphard’s. You know, he’s apparently this whole room just for books on magical cultures – it’s hidden, see, in the attic, and there’s loads there. There’s some on South American wizards, some on the Siberian, even some stuff in what he says might be Phoenician—’ ‘Enough,’ said Mother, harsher this time. Sirius clamped his mouth shut and gave her a mock salute with his jam-smeared fingers. Regulus watched him dab his napkin across his face and resisted the urge to laugh. It was funny, in a way. It was ridiculous and disgusting, but funny all the same. He supposed he hated that most, how Sirius could still be funny, even when he was the most infuriating boy in the whole wide world. They were silent for the rest of breakfast, though that didn’t stop Sirius from acting out by playing with his food. Regulus tried to pay it no mind and focused on being as proper as he could. Because perhaps that was the way this would work. Instead of pointing out Sirius’ flaws, he could just show them by being as perfect as he could – just as he had done earlier, before Sirius had come back. Surely the contrast should be all he needed? He wasn’t entirely convinced, but it was all he had. When breakfast finally came to and end and Regulus had swallowed his last bite of toast, Father and Mother Father retreated to the drawing room and told them not to disturb them. Upon hearing this, Sirius left as well, to go upstairs and do whatever it was he did when he was alone in his bedroom, which left Regulus. He felt nothing for going upstairs as well. He didn’t want to go to his room and risk running into Sirius, not now. So he stayed with Kreacher, watching as the elf cleaned away the food and plates they’d used at breakfast. He was quite good at it, too – not that Regulus had much insight in the matter of cleaning, but still. He worked swiftly, methodically, and there was something about it that just stood out as being so good that Regulus couldn’t help but think he was the best cleaner in the world. When Kreacher finished the dining room, Regulus went down to the kitchen with him, because there really wasn’t anything else to do. They had to wait for their grandparents to arrive, and that could take hours. So he sat down at the kitchen table and watched Kreacher do away with the dishes with a snap of his fingers and watched as he set out to prepare Sirius’ birthday cake with all the care in the world. He thought back to his own birthday and kicked the leg of the table. It wasn’t fair. Not that he hadn’t liked the cake; he had. He’d loved it. It had been the only good thing about his birthday. Well, that, and the presents. But it hadn’t been Kreacher’s. It hadn’t been the same. He felt tears rising and he fiddled with the tablecloth just to have something to do, to try and keep them at bay the best he could. It was difficult, but he managed well enough, for a little while at least. ‘Do you think Sirius is better than I am?’ he asked eventually, when Kreacher was finishing up the cake’s icing, because he just couldn’t hold it back any more. Kreacher wasn’t the most objective person in the world to ask such questions, but there wasn’t anyone else he could ask these things and get an answer from. Kreacher froze. ‘Master Sirius is… older,’ he said carefully. ‘That’s not the same as being better, though.’ ‘No,’ he said, turning to look him in the eye. ‘No, Master Regulus. It is not.’ ‘Well, I don’t think he’s better,’ said Regulus. ‘Not really, anyway. He’s just so… loud.’ Kreacher didn’t say anything, nor indeed did he move at all. ‘And he shouldn’t have got a wand,’ he went on, complaining. It felt good to be able to say it. ‘He’s not old enough. It’s against the rules.’ Kreacher gave a small grunt that could have meant anything. ‘And did you see how he acted at the table? Smearing the jam with his fingers… Not an ounce of respect…’ ‘Master Regulus is upset,’ Kreacher said softly, before Regulus could bring up anything else. ‘Master Regulus should not be upset on Master Sirius’ birthday.’ Regulus shot him a look. ‘I’m not upset.’ Kreacher didn’t reply. He merely bowed and returned to the cake, though he went through the motions a little slower now, and Regulus was sure he caught the elf looking in his direction more often than he had earlier. He sighed. Had he ruined it again? Had he crossed some sort of boundary? It wasn’t as though he was asking him anything personal… He hesitated. Kreacher was the only one keeping him company now, and he had to say something – not that the silence was overly uncomfortable or anything, but it wasn’t exactly the most comfortable silence either… It only felt right to say something. And… ‘Do you think—’ He hesitated again, uncertain if he really wanted to ask. If that would be wise. He didn’t want to risk frightening the elf. Not when he’d just come round again. But he had to. The words just bubbled up and left him. ‘Do you think… I’ll be the better son one day?’ His mind drifted back to last Easter, when he’d destroyed that table and Grandfather Arcturus had said that he’d be the more powerful one. He hoped it was true. Just so he could tell Sirius. Just so he had something going for himself. ‘Master Regulus is clever,’ Kreacher just said. ‘And he listens.’ ‘Of course I do,’ said Regulus. Kreacher only bowed and resumed his activities. Regulus didn’t bother him again for the remainder of the morning, too scared that what he had said had been wrong, had been too much. He sat still, in silence, lost in fantasies where he was indeed the better son and treated as such, with Sirius punished for all he’d ever done. He only stirred from his daydreams when Kreacher quietly excused himself to prepare lunch. Regulus trailed after him, not seeing any reason to stay behind in an empty kitchen, and positioned himself on a chair in a far off corner of the dining room so as to not stand in the way. After a few minutes he began to hear voices echoing down through the ceiling. Mother was at it again, arguing with Sirius over the colour of his robes, the state of his hair, and other such things – he didn’t care enough to strain his ears to find out what else Sirius had done wrong. Let him shout and stamp and rebel and be loud and disrespectful. It didn’t matter. If anything, it helped his cause. He would make his family proud. And indeed, it seemed he would rather quickly, for just as he heard Mother, Father, and Sirius descend the stairs – still arguing about this and that –, the doorbell rang. Perfect, thought Regulus, as he sprang to his feet. He smoothed his robes and adjusted the tilt of his hat, and made for the entry hall with his spine straight, his shoulders rolled back, and his chin up. He waited with his hands folded neatly behind his back. Mother was already at the front door, opening it and letting the first guests in. ‘Arcturus,’ she greeted. ‘Melania.’ ‘Walburga,’ Grandmother replied, giving her a look. ‘You look... drawn.’ ‘I’ve been unwell.’ ‘Mm. Of course.’ ‘The children,’ was all Mother said in reply, but it seemed to be enough, for Grandmother Melania swept past her without further comment and greeted Sirius in the most elaborate way possible. Grandfather Arcturus had already pulled Father aside, whispering about something that seemed serious, but Regulus paid it no mind. He was watching Mother. Had she really been unwell? He studied her face but saw nothing unusual, nothing that looked particularly “drawn”, as Grandmother had said, nor could he remember her being a bit off the last few days. But surely she wouldn’t lie about such things? He hadn’t long to think about it, however, for Grandmother Melania moved on to him after Sirius had finally pulled himself free from her embrace. He straightened at once. ‘Good afternoon, Grandmother,’ he said, trying to sound as proper and grown-up as he could. ‘I hope the journey here was uneventful?’ Grandmother raised a single amused brow and extended her hand, which he took most regally. ‘The journey was a pleasure,’ she said, smiling lightly, ‘for I knew I’d be seeing my favourite grandsons again.’ ‘We’re your only grandsons!’ Sirius called from across the hall. ‘Still my favourites!’ she called back, her smile growing. ‘We’ve only just come down for lunch,’ Mother said loudly, interrupting. ‘Kreacher’s setting the table. If you would join us...’ ‘So you’ve not opened your gifts yet?’ Grandmother asked, looking back at Sirius again. ‘Only a few. Uncle Alphard gave me—’ ‘No doubt,’ Grandfather cut in, though he didn’t sound very stern, ‘he gave you something entirely unsuitable.’ Sirius flushed, and Grandfather chuckled softly. Without another word, they began filing into the dining room, where Kreacher was already placing two extra plates on the table. He retreated to the corner of the room as they all sat down, and Regulus caught a hint of a smile upon his face as his grandparents commented positively on the food – and there was certainly plenty to admire: small, crustless crab and nasturtium sandwiches, and also some with butter and violets; thick slices of dense, spiced seedcake; delicious scones still warm from the oven; and crystal bowls of plum preserves which glinted in the midday light... He hadn’t had an elaborate breakfast, nor an elaborate lunch, on his birthday. But of course Sirius had to have both. He wondered what they’d have for dinner but supposed it could only be something even grander than what they’d already had, and suddenly wasn’t interested any more. Stupid Sirius with his stupid birthday and his stupid lacking manners… And indeed, Sirius reached for the sandwiches at once, ignoring the looks Mother and Father cast his way as he stuffed a one into his mouth. ‘What?’ he said innocently, once he’d swallowed. ‘It’s my birthday.’ ‘So it is,’ said Grandfather dryly, before anyone else could say anything. ‘And I heard Alphard gave you a wand?’ Sirius opened his mouth to answer, but Grandmother Melania beat him to it. ‘Isn’t it a bit early for a wand?’ she asked. ‘No it’s not,’ Sirius said quickly, sitting up straighter. ‘And it’s just for getting the feel of things, anyway. So I’ll be top of the class when I get to Hogwarts.’ ‘Hmm.’ She didn’t appear to be convinced by this argument, and cast a look at Mother and Father, who seemed more uncomfortable every second. Regulus, meanwhile, reached for a sandwich, as calm and compost as he could, though inside he was burning, and kept himself from the conversation. With any luck, Sirius would say or do something reckless… ‘So you’ve begun thinking about school?’ Grandfather asked then, steering the conversation away from the wand, much to his disappointment. ‘You’ll be in Slytherin, of course.’ ‘Hmm, perhaps,’ Sirius said, drawing the word out in that maddening way of his, but one that Regulus welcomed all the more now. He held his breath as Sirius said, ‘Or maybe Ravenclaw. Or Gryffindor.’ Now, that was the sort of thing Regulus had been waiting for. That was the recklessness he needed – it had the desired effect, too: Father’s brows rose a little, Mother froze mid-reach, looking as though Sirius had just spit in her tea, and Grandmother Melania seemed stunned with shock. Grandfather just frowned. ‘You’re joking.’ ‘No,’ said Sirius. ‘I’m just saying, it’s not like Slytherin’s the only House.’ ‘You come from a long line of Slytherins,’ Grandfather said matter-of-factly. ‘It is the only House.’ ‘Well, I think I’d like the Hufflepuff common room better, for example,’ Sirius went on. ‘It’s supposedly near the kitchens and—’ Regulus rolled his eyes. Food. Of course. He was sure Sirius could be brilliant if he tried, but he made it so difficult to like him. The kitchens, honestly! Thankfully, he wasn’t the only one losing patience; Father cleared his throat. ‘That’s quite enough of that,’ he said softly. ‘Let us speak about something else.’ But no-one spoke. The silence hung heavy in the air until Sirius, of all people, was the one to break it. He looked around the table and grinned. ‘Oh, don’t be so serious, all of you,’ he said, rolling his eyes dramatically. ‘Of course I’ll be in Slytherin.’ The tension didn’t lift entirely after that, but the conversation managed to continue nonetheless, and the focus had shifted away from Sirius and onto more meaningless topics such as the weather – topics Sirius wouldn’t be able to ruin even if he tried his very best, topics Regulus, too, wouldn’t be able to steer in the direction of his brother’s faults, for nobody had anything to do with the weather, least of all Sirius. After the last of the tea had been drunk and all the food had been eaten, so that nothing remained but crumbs of bread, Mother led them all into the drawing room, where the curtains were half-drawn and the fire lit, and chairs had been arranged in a semi-circle around a low table upon which lay a neat pile of presents. Regulus slipped into one of those chairs, one of the ones that faced the fire, which had been lit for both the warmth and atmosphere it provided, yes, but also because Regulus and Sirius’ other grandparents would be arriving soon – it could be any moment now. Lighting the fire saved them some time. The adults around him continued their dull conversations as Regulus watched the flames. He watched them dance and spit out sparks which were then swallowed by the air, he watched the colours shift and deepen: red and orange, golden hues, yellow, white— Green. Emerald green. In an instant, the fire flared up, and from it stepped Grandfather Pollux and Grandmother Irma, brushing soot from their robes, their sudden appearance disrupting the flow of the room. The fire returned to its natural colour but the damage to the people in the room was done: nobody talked any more. The silence seemed to stretch on for several minutes, in which everything was so still Regulus barely dared breathe. Then Grandmother Irma said, ‘Oh my, look at you! How you’ve both grown!’ And she hurried towards him and Sirius, squished their cheeks, and the room erupted into chatter again. ‘Now, which one of you is older, again?’ she asked. It was obvious she was joking – though Regulus didn’t find it very funny –, but Mother still responded as though she had asked a serious question. ‘Sirius, of course,’ she said, already sounding impatient. ‘It’s his tenth birthday today.’ ‘Oh my, is it really?’ she gasped, turning her full attention to Sirius. ‘Why, that means you’re nearly of age—’ ‘Not even close,’ Mother muttered. ‘Happy birthday, dear boy,’ Grandmother said, ignoring Mother and sweeping in to kiss Sirius on the cheek. ‘Thank you, Grandmother.’ ‘You’re nearly as tall as your father was at your age,’ Grandfather Pollux said. ‘Isn’t he, Arcturus?’ Grandfather Arcturus sniffed. ‘In height, perhaps, but he’s far too thin. What are they feeding—?’ ‘Leave him be,’ Grandmother Melania interjected before he could say more. ‘You were thinner at that age, and you ended up doing well enough.’ Grandfather Arcturus shot her a look, but it was difficult to judge whether he was offended or amused. Then Sirius, perhaps not wanting this conversation to derail on his own birthday, or perhaps genuinely curious now that school was approaching (and far too quickly, for Regulus’ liking), asked Grandfather Arcturus if he could remember his first lesson. ‘At Hogwarts, I mean,’ he added. ‘What was it like? What did you learn?’ ‘The first lesson we had was Charms,’ he answered. ‘With Professor Urquhart, I remember it well. Very talented man. Tall, long beard… Yes… First spell we learnt was the Wand-Lighting Charm…’ Sirius wrinkled his nose. ‘Well, that’s boring. I do hope they’ll teach us something better—’ ‘Boring?’ Grandfather chuckled. ‘Yeah. I can do the Wand-Lighting Charm already, it’s nothing special. Uncle Alphard taught me. Look—’ He fumbled around in the pocket of his robes, but Grandmother Melania stopped him. ‘That is quite against the rules.’ Sirius only grinned. ‘So are a lot of things, but that’s never stopped anyone in this family, so why should I let it stop me? It’s hardly the worst law to break.’ He seemed to genuinely wait for a response, hand still in his pocket, no doubt wrapped around that wand. Regulus, too, held his breath as he looked around the room. Mother and Father seemed more uncomfortable than ever, and Mother seemed to be on the verge of saying something when a loud snort disrupted the silence. Grandfather Arcturus put his hands up to his face, shielding his mouth as he laughed some more. ‘Oh, indeed, indeed,’ he said, between chuckles. ‘What’s a little underage magic compared to all we’ve managed to get away with?’ That drew a burst of laughter from Grandmother Melania. ‘Oh, heavens, yes. Merlin knows we’d all be in Azkaban if the Ministry knew half of what we’ve done. Go on then, show us what Alphard’s taught you.’ Sirius’ grin widened, and he struck a dramatic duelling post. ‘Lumos!’ he shouted, as though it was the most impressive spell in the world. The tip of the wand lit up brightly, and it earned him a round of applause from everyone. Even Mother showed a reluctant smile, though she shook her head. ‘This wasn’t exactly the lesson we intend to teach…’ ‘But it’s the one we taught nonetheless,’ Grandfather Pollux argued. ‘Children copy what we do, not what we say.’ ‘I can do the Levitation Charm as well,’ Sirius boasted. ‘He can indeed,’ Father said. ‘He showed us at breakfast.’ ‘Very nice,’ said Grandmother Irma. ‘You’ll be a menace before the year is out, if you keep this up.’ ‘He already is,’ muttered Regulus, but nobody seemed to hear. ‘You’ll have to be careful at school, though,’ Father said softly. ‘The other boys won’t like being shown up by a first-year.’ Sirius shrugged. ‘They don’t have to like it.’ ‘I just mean, they could try and… do something about it. Boys can be cruel.’ ‘If they’re cruel, then I’ll just be even worse.’ Grandfather Arcturus gave a chuckle. ‘That’s the spirit! Don’t let them make you feel bad for being better than them. You’re a Black, it’s only natural you encounter some jealousy.’ Grandfather Pollux agreed. ‘Show them how to respect their superiors from day one and you won’t run into much trouble.’ ‘And just let them talk. Let them whisper behind your back,’ said Grandmother Melania. ‘They always do, when they can’t take you on. It’s what they resort to when they haven’t the brains to do anything else.’ ‘Mudbloods and mudwallowers... they love a whisper,’ Grandmother Irma agreed with a sniff and a shake of her head. ‘Yes, you’d do best to ignore them, so long as they aren’t causing you much trouble. You don’t want the teachers involved,’ said Grandfather Arcturus. ‘In fact, you’d do best to ignore the other students altogether. There are only a handful worth your time, and you’ll know who they are by name alone.’ Sirius was starting to grow uncomfortable, it was obvious from the way he was swaying on his feet. But he didn’t say anything. He kept his mouth shut and his eyes fixed on the floor. Had Uncle Alphard managed to get some sense into him, or had being ten matured him enough to understand the importance of what the adults were saying? Normally, he’d have been thrilled to see his brother finally catching on. Now he couldn’t help but feel as though his whole world had shattered. Everyone seemed to feel the unease building inside of Sirius, for the conversation fell silent, and the tension returned. For a small, fleeting second, Regulus had hope Sirius would say something to draw the attention back to the topic, but then Father cleared his throat. ‘Shall we just move on to the gift-giving?’ he asked, and everyone seemed more than happy to do that. Mother was on her feet in an instant, taking a velvet-lined box from the pile and handing it to Sirius, who’d got some of his energy back now that the conversation wasn’t so serious any more, and opened it at once. He took out the phoenix-feather quill that lay inside, held it up in the light and twirled it between his fingers, and, for a moment, it really did look aflame. Regulus had to remind himself to not look too in awe. He had to remind himself of his mission: wrecking this birthday. Sirius beamed at Mother. ‘Wow! Thanks!’ he exclaimed, putting the quill back in the box. Mother smiled back, and then looked across to Grandmother Irma, who stood and gave him her own gift: a Remembrall, which flushed a deep, almost guilty red the moment it touched Sirius’ hand. Sirius frowned and shook it a little, then held it up to eye level as if willing the red to go away. ‘But I haven’t forgotten anything,’ he said. ‘I really haven’t.’ Grandmother Irma chuckled. ‘Are you sure? It never lies.’ ‘Yes, I’m sure,’ he said, a little too agitated, but the others just laughed and started suggesting things he could’ve forgotten: combing his hair (for it was rather untidy), working on his spelling or his grammar or his arithmetic, that sort of thing. Regulus quickly lost interest (it was obvious nothing would happen) and allowed their voices to blur as he looked back at the fire. It crackled more softly now that it wasn’t waiting for travellers. It was only when Father stood, a couple minutes later, and the chatter died out again, that he looked up again, for Father’s gift was an enchanted musical box that would send anyone who listened to it to sleep. Sirius grinned the moment Father explained what it did and immediately started winding the handle, but Mother raised her hand and shook her head, and Sirius (though pouting) obeyed – much to Regulus’ relief. The last thing he wanted was to fall into an enchanted sleep in front of everyone. But why had Father even given Sirius such a gift? It was clear that the box could be highly dangerous in the wrong hands, and Sirius’ hands were always the wrong ones. But again, he seemed to be alone in his objections, for the rest seemed highly impressed by the gift and even encouraged Sirius to use it when he wanted some peace and quiet – who knows what kind of ideas he’d get from that! But before he could even think about voicing his thoughts, Grandmother Melania was placing a small, flat box into Sirius’s lap, kneeling slightly to open it for him. Inside lay an antique silver amulet. ‘A good luck charm,’ she said as she fastened it around his neck. ‘It has served me well enough over the years, but I think you’ve more need of it now than I do.’ Sirius beamed at her, and she returned the smile, her hand lingering briefly on his shoulder. Regulus turned away sharply and hid his hands in his pockets. They curled into tight fists, closed around the parchment with his impossible promises to himself, and he felt his fingernails pressing into his palms, focused on the pain it produced so he wouldn’t have to feel the pain of having to watch Sirius be showered with all these beautiful, brilliant gifts when his own... his own birthday had been an afterthought, this just proved it. And it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t remotely fair. And as if they wanted to rub it in, Grandfather Pollux stood and presented Sirius with a full astronomical model with glittering stars and planets on slender brass arms. He also got a lunascope, because of course he did, and Grandfather Arcturus handed over a leather pouch containing a Revealer and a bottle of invisible ink. ‘For experimenting,’ he said. ‘Or mischief.’ He winked, and Sirius practically glowed with happiness, clutching the pouch to his chest. He looked as though this was the best day of his life – and it probably was. Regulus couldn’t stand it any more. He felt the sting of it in his throat, in his chest, in his stomach. If he’d said a single word, it might have come out as a sob, and so he didn’t say anything as he stood and left the room. Nobody called after him to try and get him back, and he didn’t look back to see if they’d noticed him slipping away. He just walked towards the stairs and climbed them, up, up, up, until he reached his bedroom, his safe haven. He sank onto the floor behind his closed door and pulled his knees up to his chest. Today had been such a failure. Date: 3 November, 1969 Event: Regulus sits with Kreacher during the prep for the birthday party and asks him for advice. Grandparents come for the birthday. Regulus tries to ruin it but doesn't succeed. He runs up to his bedroom in anger. Characters: Black Family: Sirius Pollux Black Regulus Arcturus Black Walburga Sopdet Black Orion Sirius Black Melania Macmillan Arcturus Rastaban Black Irma Crabbe Pollux Rigel Black