Regulus?’ ‘Go away!’ He banged the door for good measure. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he’d ran away, but he was sure that he didn’t want to talk to his brother yet; his face was still hot and flushed, and his fists hurt from clenching them so tightly, and his eyes prickled with the tears he so hated to shed. ‘But I’ve just come to tell you that—’ ‘Just GO AWAY!’ he yelled. ‘I don’t wanna see you ever again! Just LEAVE!’ ‘All right, all right! Merlin.’ He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists even tighter than he had before, ignoring how that only made them hurt more. And oh, how he hated him, with his clever quips and his careless laughter and the way he had everyone wrapped around his little finger with his twinkling eyes and charming lies and misbehaviour everyone seemed to just adore. He wanted him to rot. ‘What’s got you acting up then, huh?’ Sirius continued, just outside the door. ‘Are you jealous, is that it? You want me to give all the presents back? Should I go toss my brand-new lunascope in the bin for you just now?’ Regulus didn’t respond. He didn’t even want to listen. But Sirius kept going. ‘I don’t even like some of that stuff. That Remembrall’s just going to sit there annoying me because I’ve got no clue what I’ve supposedly forgotten. So you know what, you can have it if you want!’ Regulus glared at the door. I don’t want your scraps. ‘Whatever,’ Sirius muttered. ‘I was just trying to be nice. You don’t have to be such a—’ He cut himself off. Regulus wasn’t sure what he was going to make him out for, but he didn’t need to hear it to know it wasn’t anything good. ‘Fine. Starve for all I care. I’ll go. I’ll go tell Mother you said you hate me!’ Regulus heard him stomp away, and waited until he could no longer hear his footsteps. He didn’t really mind if Sirius really went to Mother with this or not. He couldn’t bring himself to care. He just turned away from the door, slowly crawled onto the bed, and curled himself tightly against the wall. He closed his eyes and let his feelings wash over him, pressing his face into the pillow as someone downstairs laughed loud enough for him to hear all the way upstairs. Was that Mother, in response to Sirius’ report? Were they laughing at him? He smothered his face more tightly with the pillow, so no-one would hear when the sob finally broke free. And when it did break free, he cried, and cried, and cried… Because nobody understood. So he cried until there were no more tears to shed and the painful, tight feeling in his chest had somewhat lessened, and he could think more clearly again. And he lay there for a little while longer, just lying there, doing nothing but lie and think and rest. The birthday had certainly been a disaster, that much he’d achieved. Just not in the way he’d wanted it to be. Not for the person he’d wanted to ruin it for. Sirius was the one who was supposed to be crying now, feeling horrible. Not him. He was supposed to be downstairs having dinner with the family, gossiping about Sirius and how awful he’d behaved. It wasn’t fair. He had no idea how long he’d lain there, face buried in his pillows, limbs aching from the tension, but when he finally sat up again – because a loud crack had alerted him –, it was already dark. He wiped his face with his sleeve and didn’t bother putting his hat back on, or smoothing out the wrinkles in his robes, or indeed do anything to improve his appearance. It was only Kreacher, anyway, who had come to disturb him. He stood in the corner of the room, holding a small plate which held a slice of cake: three layers thick, dark chocolate with white icing. A single silver fork rested beside it. He blinked. ‘My mistress said to throw the rest away,’ Kreacher said. ‘But Master Regulus didn’t eat his slice.’ He shuffled forwards, ears drooping, and placed the plate carefully on the bedside table. ‘Kreacher thought perhaps young master would be hungry.’ Regulus stared at the cake. It looked great. Perfect, even. And of course it was perfect, he’d been there when he made it. He’d seen the care and precision that had gone into it. He knew how meticulously Kreacher had worked. Part of him wanted to knock it on the floor, just to see it smash to pieces. Just to get the anger out. Just to have something to destroy. Another part of him made his mouth water at the prospect of eating it. That part won. So Regulus gave a small, stiff nod. That was all. He didn’t trust his voice enough to say thank you, even though he wanted to. But Kreacher didn’t seem to mind – and of course he didn’t mind. He was a house-elf. House-elves didn’t mind. They just left. And so did Kreacher: he inclined his head, backed away, and disappeared without another word. Then Regulus picked up the fork and took a bite of cake. It tasted as great as it looked. The chocolate was rich and slightly bitter, perfectly contrasting the sweet, silky icing that melted on his tongue… For a moment, he closed his eyes, and he became one with the cake, forgetting all about his worries, his anger, his pain. Nothing else existed, just himself, and the cake. He opened his eyes again and took another bite, and another, savouring the taste as he ate his way through. He had nearly finished it when a loud sound disrupted his peace and quiet for the second time that evening. This time, it was followed by what could only be shouting. He strained his ears, fork still raised in mid-air, and recognised one of the voices as belong to Sirius. The other voice had to be Mother’s, for there was no-one else who screeched that way. But he couldn’t make out the words. He set the fork down and slipped off the bed. He pressed his ear against the door. It didn’t help much, though he was certain it was Mother and Sirius, now. Arguing. And Sirius wasn’t using that silly, sing-song voice he usually did when teasing Mother, so that meant it was real. Regulus’ fingers grasped the handle. He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t. And yet, he opened the door. He crept out. He moved towards the stairs. Because it was too good to miss it. If Sirius was ruining his own birthday, he had to know how and why. When he reached the stairs, he heard it wasn’t just Mother and Sirius. There were multiple voices arguing over each other. Grandfather Pollux. Grandmother Irma. Even Father. He held the railing and slowly made his way down the stairs. With each step, the voices grew clearer, until, standing stiff on the first-floor landing, he could hear every word clear as day through the heavy wood of the closed dining room doors downstairs. ‘But I’m not sorry,’ Sirius was shouting. ‘And I’ll never be sorry! Someone had to say it, and if you’re all too cowardly—’ ‘LOWER YOUR VOICE!’ Mother bellowed. ‘This is not how we behave!’ ‘WALBURGA!’ Grandfather Pollux thundered over them both. ‘Mind yourself!’ ‘MIND MYSELF—!?’ She shrieked. ‘OW—YOU—! I am not a child! You cannot—!’ Her voice cut off with the deafening sound of something smashing into a wall. Another burst followed, then the shattering of glass, the scraping of furniture, screams of pain and rage… Regulus dropped to the floor, his arms around his knees, and pressed his face into his hands. He didn’t know what was happening in there; he didn’t want to know what was happening in there, or who had started it, or what it was they were smashing to pieces. He only wanted it to stop. But it didn’t. It just kept going, all the shouting, the snarling, the shrieking and the throwing seemed to go on forever – until, at last, the house fell silent. Regulus held his breath and didn’t move a finger. He sat as though frozen on the floor, pressed up against the bannisters, for several moments, until the silence broke again. It was Father who broke it, and he broke it with a voice so soft Regulus almost didn’t hear it. ‘Go to your room, Sirius.’ ‘No,’ said Sirius. ‘I want answers after—after this. I deserve answers.’ There was another silence, but the calm had returned, and Regulus dared look up from his hands again, and look down, though he could only see the empty entry hall below. ‘I just want to know why you’re all sitting here discussing it like it’s just tea gossip or something,’ Sirius went on, his voice unsteady. ‘Sirius,’ came Father’s stern voice, ‘you are ten years old. You know nothing of politics, of war, of family loyalty—’ ‘I know enough to know you’re all barking mad,’ he said defiantly. ‘You simply heard what you were not meant to hear, and you completely misunderstood it—’ ‘Oh, I’m so sorry I didn’t sit there quietly while you talked about my cousin murdering people!’ ‘We don’t know that,’ Father said flatly. ‘But you do! You all think it was her! You just won’t say it now because you’re too scared to admit it!’ ‘I’m not having this conversation again,’ said Father. ‘No, no – let’s humour him, Orion,’ said Grandfather Arcturus, and Regulus didn’t need to be in the dining room with them to see Father’s glaring face. ‘He’s old enough to form an opinion, is he not? So. Let’s say what you think you heard is true, boy. What then? What would you do?’ ‘I’d report her,’ Sirius said at once. ‘You would report your own blood?’ asked Grandfather, quiet and appalled. ‘If my own blood was killing people?’ Sirius said, sounding equally appalled. ‘YES!’ ‘And what good would reporting her do?’ he asked. ‘Do you not know what they do to people—’ ‘Who kill? I hope they lock ‘em up.’ ‘We do not betray family,’ he said quietly. ‘Not for anyone. Not for anything.’ ‘Then that’s what’s wrong with all of you,’ Sirius snapped. ‘You care more about being a Black than being a decent person.’ ‘And what do you know of decency?’ spat Grandfather. ‘You are a child, you know nothing of what’s happening in the world—’ ‘Because none of you will tell me!’ Sirius shouted. ‘You keep me in the dark and feed me lies about honour and tradition and blood—’ ‘Sirius!’ Father warned. ‘Don’t! Don’t “Sirius” me! You said people are dying! You said Bellatrix is in the middle of it, and—and Uncle Alphard said there’s a war coming, so there! I know more than enough! But you’re all pretending she’s just having one of her little “moods”! I was there when she ran off, you know! I was there when she went on about—’ ‘It’s not that simple,’ Father interrupted. ‘But it is! It is that simple! If she’s hurting people, she should be stopped!’ It fell silent after that, and Regulus pressed himself closer to the bannisters, as though it would help him see and hear what went on downstairs, straining his ears to find out, but there was nothing. It was fully silent, and stayed silent for so long, Regulus almost forgot where he was, lost in thought, his mind spinning, going over what he’d heard again and again and again, replaying the scene as if he’d been in the dining room with them, filling in the gaps, imagining what had been thrown and by whom, and at whom… He was so lost in this that he startled when sound came back to him, coming from downstairs. Sirius’ voice travelled far, but he was no longer shouting. ‘And what if she starts killing wizards too?’ he asked. ‘Half-bloods, blood traitors, anyone who gets in her way? What if she decides we’re in her way?’ ‘Then we’ll see,’ said Father calmly. ‘But for now, she isn’t. For now, we are handling it.’ ‘You’re not handling it. You’re letting her get away with it.’ ‘We are not. But she’s family. And we will deal with her, not the Ministry, not anyone else. Us. Do you understand?’ Sirius let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. ‘No, I don’t understand—’ ‘That’s all right,’ said Father, silencing him. ‘You are a child. I do not expect you to. But that is precisely why it is time for you to go to bed, Sirius. Go upstairs. Leave it to us.’ ‘I’m not going upstairs!’ Sirius said, voice rising again. ‘Regulus is up there, and he hates me!’ Regulus flinched at the sound of his name, at first because he thought he’d been seen, caught, dragged into the chaos. But he didn’t calm much when the words reached him. Sirius thought he hated him. Sirius didn’t want to go anywhere near him any more, and it was all his fault. He’d told him to leave, to go away and never return, he’d ignored him and yelled at him and shut him out and thought horrible things about him— ‘Perhaps you should’ve thought of that,’ snapped Grandmother Irma, pulling Regulus back from his spiralling thoughts, ‘before you barged in on us with foul words and accusations. Honestly, Sirius. On your birthday.’ He could almost picture her face, her pursed lips, her shaking her head as though Sirius had done something silly and foolish, as if the whole fight from before had been nothing. ‘I didn’t ask for this birthday,’ Sirius growled. ‘And I didn’t ask for any of you!’ But he still listened to them, he still obeyed, he still left. Regulus saw the doors to the dining room fling open and he had half a second to hide away from the stairs so that he wouldn’t be seen – in the drawing room perhaps – but failed. Sirius spotted him before he even climbed up the stairs. His face was flushed with fury and his fists were clenched at the sides and there was a wild, unhinged look in his eyes that made Regulus want to back away, but he couldn’t. His limbs wouldn’t move. For the longest time, they both just stared. ‘You were eavesdropping.’ Regulus couldn’t find the words to answer. He didn’t even nod or shake his head. It was as though he had forgotten how those things worked. His mind was going over the conversation he’d overheard, repeating it over and over and over again... Sirius let out a laugh, but it sounded cold and detached. ‘You were. You heard. But you’re just like them. Too scared to say anything when it comes down to it, aren’t you?—Or maybe you actually agree. Maybe you think it’s right, what they’re doing. That it’s necessary. Brave. That murder’s fine—’ ‘I didn’t say that,’ Regulus whispered. ‘—so long as it’s just defenceless Muggles, right?’ ‘Well, maybe Muggles aren’t so defenceless,’ he said, a little louder, getting annoyed Sirius wanted to pick a fight with him now as well. ‘They hurt each other. They destroy things. And Father says they would lock us up and kill us all if they knew. And what about that Muggle—’ But he didn’t get to finish. Sirius lunged forwards, up the stairs, reached the top, and, before Regulus could even comprehend what was happening, Sirius had grabbed him by the arms, hauling him upright. He stared into Sirius’ dangerously glinting eyes and panic clutched at his chest, leaving him breathless. ‘What’s so dangerous about them, huh?’ Sirius hissed, shaking him hard. ‘What’s so dangerous we can’t stop with magic?’ Regulus squirmed, trying to break free. ‘I—I don’t know—’ ‘Yes, you do. Come on. Tell me. What’s so dangerous?’ ‘P-please, Sirius…’ ‘Tell me!’ he shouted, though he finally stopped the shaking. Regulus struggled for words, struggled to think. ‘W-well… There’s the Mudbloods,’ he said finally. ‘Muggles can do… that…’ ‘Do what?’ ‘Steal our magic! They steal our magic and they kill us and they eat us and they want us all gone—please, Sirius—!’ Tears streamed down his face, and Sirius finally let go of him, looking disgusted. Regulus tried to stop them but new ones kept coming. For a while, that was all there was. His tears. Sirius’ angry, disgusted face. Silence. As his tears dried up again, Sirius leaned back against the bannisters. He seemed lost in thought and Regulus felt more and more uncomfortable every second. He looked at Sirius’ vacant expression and at the stairs. He could do it. Make a run for it. Go to bed. Erase this day from his mind… But just as he went to turn away, to leave, to go to his bedroom and sleep, Sirius spoke. ‘You really believe all that? About Muggles?’ He could only nod. ‘You actually believe they eat us? And steal our magic? And do all sorts of things to us?’ Again, he nodded, and he felt the tears come back to his eyes. He closed them and forced them away, but it was hard. Because he was soft. A baby. Not in control. ‘Magic isn’t something you can steal, Reg. You’re either born with it or you’re not.’ ‘W-well, Mudbloods weren’t born with it,’ he murmured. ‘They can’t be, they’re not from the right families—’ ‘Oh, shut up with that “right families” rubbish,’ Sirius snapped. ‘I’m so sick of hearing that.’ ‘But it’s true,’ he argued quietly. ‘Why else would all the best wizards come from the old families? It’s not a coincidence.’ ‘Andromeda said half-bloods are top of every class at Hogwarts, you know,’ Sirius countered. ‘So it can’t be true.’ ‘Well, it is.’ Sirius shook his head. ‘Merlin, Reg. You sound just like them.’ ‘Like whom?’ ‘Mother and Father and—’ ‘What’s so bad about that?’ ‘It’s pathetic.’ ‘No, it’s not!’ ‘But it is! You want to be good so badly—’ ‘Well, at least I try! At least I don’t spend every second of my life acting out just because I want to feel special!’ He laughed darkly. ‘Yeah, and because of that, I can’t even breathe in this house without being compared to you. Every time I walk into a room, it’s: “Why can’t you be more like Regulus? Why can’t you just behave? Why can’t you be better, Sirius?”—’ ‘Oh, poor you!’ Regulus yelled. ‘Poor little Sirius, can’t even walk into a room without people asking him to do his best! Everyone already adores you! Even when you’re awful! Even when you say the most disgusting things and storm out and shout at Mother and make her furious, they still say, “Oh, Sirius is just spirited”! They always make excuses for you!’ ‘Right, sure!’ Sirius snapped back. ‘That must be why Mother screams at me every time—’ ‘She screams at you because you make her!’ Regulus shouted, his hands curling into fists. ‘You do whatever you like, say whatever you want, and somehow I’m the one who’s wrong all the time for trying to follow the rules!? But you—you’re always the victim, aren’t you?’ ‘YES,’ said Sirius, spit flying everywhere, ‘because they HATE me, Regulus. They hate me because you’re bloody perfect and sit still and dress right and you nod and smile and follow every single stupid rule and do everything the way you’re supposed to and you’re such a perfect little Black and I’m the embarrassment, the failure, the troubled one who’s too loud and too angry and too wrong and they HATE me because I’m not you and—’ ‘Well, at least they remember your birthday!’ Regulus yelled, drowning out his voice. His breath hitched; his anger had surged up so fast it felt as if he was choking, and now it was exploding, erupting – he went to run upstairs, to his room, but Sirius stood fully on the landing now, blocking his access, so he frantically turned back around and raced down the stairs, going so fast he nearly slipped. He reached the bottom and still he didn’t stop. He didn’t look back, didn’t check if Sirius was following him or had remained upstairs. He didn’t think about what he was doing or call for an adult, he didn’t even grab his cloak. He just ran, faster than he’d ever run before. The front door shot open and he bolted through it, down the steps, into the street. He ran blindly, hearing only the thumping of his heart, feeling only the burning of his lungs and knowing only that he had to leave. He had to get away. Away from Sirius, away from the shouting, away from the horrible things everyone had said, away from the even worse things he had overheard, of murder, of war. Blindly he ran through the maze of Muggle houses that grew smaller and smaller, past bins and cracked bricks and and back entrances of homes that looked so foreign to him, so different, so strange. He turned a corner and darted down a narrow alleyway that was too dark for comfort and smelt of smoke and something sour and metallic and made him gag. A broken bottle crunched beneath his foot, and he hissed, stumbling back and coming to a halt. He looked around. Overflowing bins and litter lined the path – glass bottles, scrunched up paper, Muggle rubbish— He pressed back to the brick wall, rough and cold against his palms, and slid down to the ground until he was sitting in the dirt. His whole body shook, not from running, but from the sudden realisation of where he was. He was in Muggle London. His heart slammed against his ribs, frantic, as if it were trying to claw its way out of his chest and leave this place without him – and Regulus wanted desperately to escape with it. He looked wildly up and down the alley, searching, trying to find anything familiar, anything safe, but there was nothing but the darkness, the shadows and the bins that buzzed with flies and gave off the stench that filled the air, poisoning it. It wasn’t fit for breathing; every breath scorched his throat until his lungs bucked against it, refusing to take in the air. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think of something better, tried to think of home, tried to fill his mind with happier things but it was blank, blindingly white with panic, and when he did break through the darkness, he was met only with horrors: he saw that monstrous, faceless Muggle he’d seen before, that Boggart with its reaching hands, that twisted grin, dragging him away in handcuffs, locking him in some kind of prison, dissecting him, draining him... He saw strange tools, cages and knives and experiments and torture chambers... He saw them burning him, he could feel it, the flames on his skin, the water – they were drowning him, locking him up in a high tower and stealing his magic... There were cauldrons preparing a stew, with his flesh to be used as meat... He opened his eyes again. He had to, to make sure they weren’t really there; so vivid had his thoughts become. But though he could see no Muggles, he could feel them, watching, hidden behind the bins. Pale faces with glassy eyes, waiting. Lurking. And it all became too much. A whimper escaped him and he muffled it with his robes, the only thing he had to remind himself of home. He curled into himself and held onto the robes with all his might. He was scared, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it; this was the world they’d always warned him about. stories that ended in curses or corpses. The world of filth and danger. Of Muggle monsters that captured young wizards and cut them open, stealing blood, stealing magic. And there was no-one here to stop them. No Mother, no Father to save him. If he screamed, no-one would come – no-one but them. And if they found him… He curled in tighter, trying to disappear. He was all alone. Alone in the belly of the beast. Date: 3 November 1969 Event: Regulus in his room argues with Sirius who came to fetch him for dinner. Kreacher brings him cake. Regulus hears fight downstairs and eavesdrops. Sirius sent upstairs. Sirius and Regulus fight. Regulus runs away, out of the house. 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