Slowly, January passed into February, and February into March, and March into April … Life inside of number twelve, Grimmauld Place went on day by day, with Regulus and Sirius spending most every day in the exact same way. Breakfast, lessons, lunch, play, dinner, bed, and repeat. Sometimes they would find their doors locked again, in the morning, but they always opened after a few hours, and caused no serious disruptions – nothing ever did, after all. Nothing could disrupt the happenings inside of number twelve. Even the outside world had no effect on the happenings within those walls, as Regulus slowly but surely began to believe again, when after so many months neither the Ministry nor the Muggles had returned to finish them off. But no matter how often his parents told him so, he did not think that nothing whatsoever could disrupt them; Easter could. Easter would. Easter did – they would be going to Uncle Alphard’s for it. They always did it like this, they went to someone’s house for an elaborate brunch to celebrate the holiday and to just have a good time. Normally, Regulus wouldn’t have minded so much that it was Uncle Alphard’s house they were going to, but he hadn’t seen Uncle Alphard since Christmas, and that made him very nervous. Of course, he had kept his word, he hadn’t told anyone he had seen Andromeda crying, that he had seen them talking together in the potting shed. He had done just as Uncle Alphard had asked. But what if it came up? What if Andromeda did something like that again? What if Uncle Alphard didn’t believe him?
He took a deep breath. It was useless to think much longer about it now. He had no time to do so, either. He had to pay close attention to what Mother and Father were saying because they would be travelling by Floo powder, because Uncle Alphard lived in Blackburn, which was a Muggle place, and his house was not charmed invisible, nor hidden in any other way – which was just how he liked it, for Uncle Alphard was a funny man. And Sirius and he were to go first, and they were to go as one. And so they stood there, hand-in-hand, watching the flickering flames afore them, as Mother explained once more what they had to do to get through. Then Sirius, being eldest, took the powder in his empty hand. He cast it into the fire and spoke as clearly as he could as he said, ‘Number twenty-three, Brighley Range!’ and together they stepped into the emerald flames, and together they were sent hurling through the Floo Network. Regulus shut his eyes and tried his best to stay small, clinging onto his brother so they wouldn’t lose each other along the way, only letting go when he came tumbling out onto the hard floor. He opened his eyes and saw a bright multi-coloured carpet right in front of him, and the walls were equally bright. They were not one colour but seven, as if the wallpaper had run out several times and the house-elves had just moved on to the next roll. There were wooden shelves at the back of the room laden with trinkets Regulus had never seen before in his life (Uncle Alphard was always changing out the stuff he kept on display). The sofas were battered and worn and about a hundred years old or more, and even the fireplace he had just left looked as though it could collapse at any moment. Yes, this was Uncle Alphard’s place.
He stumbled to his feet and saw Sirius in the doorway, calling for Uncle Alphard. Regulus yanked off his hat and gave it a shake, trying to get the soot off. He ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed them over his face but the dirty feeling remained.
He looked around and spotted the brush on the shelf. He stood on his tiptoes and grabbed it, running it over his sleeves and the front of his robes, determined to get rid of it all before Mother and Father arrived. He wanted to prove to them he could do this on his own. Especially since Sirius – who now hugging Uncle Alphard in the doorway – hadn’t even taken the time to get it out of his hair.
He had just finished with the brush when Uncle Alphard and Sirius stopped hugging and turned their attention to him, still standing in the same doorway, now arm-in-arm. The doorway led to a hall, he knew, and the hall led to the front door. Regulus had never stepped through that door. He had never even seen the streets outside – and he couldn’t now, either; all the windows of the house were covered with thick, dusty curtains that most likely hadn’t been opened in decades.
‘You’ve grown,’ Uncle Alphard said to him.
‘I know,’ he said. He would soon be needing new robes again, as these were already getting a bit short.
‘I hope you haven’t forgotten,’ said Uncle Alphard ominously.
‘I haven’t,’ he said, looking away from Uncle Alphard’s hard face and catching Sirius’ questioning eye. Uncle Alphard must’ve seen it as well, for he whispered something in Sirius’ ear, to which Sirius nodded. Regulus closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at it. Uncle Alphard had always favoured his brother. Everyone always favoured his brother. He could cause scenes and thrash the place and get away with a stern talking-to, whereas Regulus …
Thankfully, he heard a rumble behind him just then, so his mind hadn’t the time to finish that thought. Today wasn’t the day to think about those things. He turned just in time to see Mother stepping out of the fireplace, taking in the room with a wrinkled nose.
‘It smells odd in here,’ she said by way of greeting, and Regulus had to admit she was right, though he hadn’t smelt it earlier. It was as if something had been burning. There was a hint of something sweet as well, but somehow, it wasn’t the good kind of sweet. It wasn’t a nice smell at all.
‘That would be the food,’ said Uncle Alphard cheerfully.
He looked at him in shock. The food smelt that way? Surely Unlce Alphard wasn’t cooking it himself? It was common knowledge he was a horrid cook! He looked at Mother, hoping to ask her with just his eyes if he would have to eat the food later, or if he could skip it, but Mother only held out her hand.
He handed her the brush and she moved it across his robes in a few quick, impatient strokes, getting off the soot within seconds. She ran her fingers through his hair, shaking the last of the soot off, then moved onto her own robes.
He put his hat back on and looked back at Sirius, who stood sniggering beside Uncle Alphard. He felt the heat rising to his cheeks, both from anger and embarrassment. Why didn’t Sirius get the same treatment? Why was he allowed to walk around spreading soot everywhere? He looked back again, at the fireplace, which roared to life again, spitting out Father a few moments later. Father straightened his robes and shook the soot out of his hair and off his hat before taking a look around the room, his face blank. He nodded.
‘Alphard,’ he acknowledged.
‘Orion.’
Then they fell silent. Regulus didn’t dare make a sound; even Mother had stopped moving the brush over her clothes, and nobody seemed to dare break the silence. Nobody except Sirius, who turned to Uncle Alphard again, and asked brightly, ‘Is Andromeda here?’
‘Yes – she’s just in the kitchen. You’re the last to arrive.’
Regulus’ stomach gave a leap. If Andromeda was here, then Narcissa would be here, too. Jumping at the opportunity to at least leave the tense living room, he followed Sirius into the kitchen, where they, indeed, found Andromeda. They also found Bellatrix there, arguing with her mother over something. Their grandparents, both sets, were also there. But the long table still left a few very big gaps. Uncle Cygnus was one of the missing guests, but Regulus was sure he’d show up soon, for Aunt Druella wasn’t often without him. Then there was Aunt Lucretia. But most importantly –
‘Where’s Narcissa?’
‘At the Malfoys,’ grunted Bellatrix.
‘Jealous?’ Andromeda said, smirking.
‘Hardly.’
Regulus hesitated as the girls bickered on about the Malfoys. Regulus didn’t really understand, and in part that was because they dropped their voices lower and lower the more they said, until they spoke in barely a whisper, but he caught a lot of words related to money, power, and blood.
He didn’t care enough to ask. He was trying his best to conceal how upset he was over Narcissa’s absence and scanned the room for a place to sit. His grandparents would surely coddle him – or they’d ask him far too many questions. Aunt Druella had left her seat now and made haste for the door that led to the hall, but he didn’t fancy stealing her seat or the seat beside her (which he supposed was Uncle Cygnus’). Then there was the problem that Sirius had already stolen the seat next to Andromeda and that Regulus didn’t want to risk sitting next to Bellatrix lest she get in one of her moods and take it out on him …
And so he stood, weighing his options. But before he could make a decision, his thoughts were interrupted by a loud arguing coming from the hall. ‘Alphard, really, couldn’t you have cleaned in here?’ Mother stepped into the kitchen, looking around in clear distaste. ‘You can borrow Kreacher if need be. Honestly! Dust everywhere, and that smell—’ ‘It’s called seasoning,’ Uncle Alphard replied smoothly. ‘You ought to try it sometime.’ Mother’s face twitched, but before she could launch into one of her rants, Grandfather Arcturus cleared his throat. It was enough to silence her. It was enough to silence the entire room. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Let’s eat.’ And Uncle Alphard smiled warmly and directed Regulus to the seat next to the one Aunt Druella had sat in, and took out his wand, and the table filled up with slices of lamb, veal, and chicken, and pasties of all sorts, and there was corned beef, cabbage, and floury potatoes, and more eggs than Regulus could count. And they ate – or rather, Regulus ate, and the others merely stared at each other, though he barely noticed this until after he’d filled his plate for the second time. Then he, too, fell silent and gaped at the people around the table, trying to figure out why no-one was eating, or doing anything at all. He made eye-contact with his grandmother Irma and she let out a small sigh, before looking away from him, back at his cousins opposite him. ‘So, Andromeda,’ she said, breaking the silence, ‘still not married?’ ‘No. I’m sixteen.’ ‘Well, it's about time, isn’t it?’ Grandmother Irma sniffed, waving the objection away with her hand. ‘I’m sixteen,’ Andromeda repeated. ‘I’ve my whole life to settle down.’ ‘You’re almost an adult, still unattached—’ ‘Bella is two years older and you never pester her about it,’ she countered. Bellatrix smirked and leaned back in her chair, swirling the wine in her goblet. ‘That’s because she knows I have standards,’ she said lazily. ‘I’ll not settle for just anyone.’ ‘Standards mean nothing if no-one’s asking for your hand, Bellatrix,’ Grandmother Irma spat. ‘Your sister is right for once. I should be more concerned about your future, because it isn’t looking good.’ Bellatrix’s grip tightened around her goblet. For a second, Regulus thought she might throw it. Instead, she simply smiled. ‘Don’t worry, Grandmother. I know exactly what I’m doing.’ ‘Do you?’ Andromeda muttered under her breath. But before Bellatrix could answer, Mother stood up, saying, ‘That’s enough. We can discuss their futures another time.’ Regulus, happy to hear the tension had been avoided, took up his fork again to continue eating. But Mother did not sit back down again, and she did not eat, nor did anyone else. She left the room, hurrying to the hall just as Aunt Druella had done, and the rest just watched her go, before they continued staring at one another. He caught his brother’s eye. Sirius shrugged. Regulus stared back at the doorway, then turned and tried to locate his father at the table. His heart sank when he realised he wasn’t there. Father wasn’t there. His thoughts were racing and he got to his feet, only to be held back by Grandfather Arcturus, and pulled back into his seat, and he sat there, staring at the door that led to the hall, wondering where Mother had gone and why she had left, and if she was with Father, and with Aunt Druella and Uncle Cygnus – and he hoped she was, because if she wasn’t, then they were missing, and if they were missing ... He glanced back at Sirius, who looked as confused as he felt. The conversation around him had continued, and they were still talking about marriage. Regulus couldn’t care less about marriage, and he really was quite close to telling them that. Instead he poked at his meat, stabbing it, trying to get rid of the energy that was building inside him. Marriage—was—not—important! Mother and Father and Aunt Druella and Uncle Cygnus and even Aunt Lucretia could all have disappeared! For good! Even Narcissa— Uncle Alphard laughed. Loudly. It broke his thoughts and he glared angrily at him. ‘Really, Mother, at sixteen?’ ‘Says the perpetual bachelor,’ Grandmother Irma muttered in response. ‘You know—’ ‘Perhaps,’ Uncle Alphard interjected, ‘and this is a rather wild suggestion, I know, but perhaps we could just let the girls sort out their own affairs?’ Grandmother Irma looked at him as though he’d grown a second head (which he hadn’t), then her expression turned more sour and she opened her mouth to say something. Uncle Alphard didn’t let her. ‘Let’s hear what the boys have been up to,’ he said, changing the subject. ‘Regulus, have you been keeping out of trouble?’ Regulus stopped stabbing his meat. He had no choice but to answer. ‘Yes, Uncle,’ he said, shrinking in his chair. He wanted nothing more than to leave. To go after Mother and Father and find out what was happening. ‘That’s what I like to hear! And you, Sirius?’ Sirius grinned. ‘Would you believe me if I said the same?’ Uncle Alphard laughed again, and he laughed louder than before, and Regulus was so close to jumping out of his seat. To make a run for it. The laughter – and everyone was laughing now – was just too much for him. Didn’t they see?! Didn’t they care? His parents were gone, and Aunt Druella and Uncle Cygnus were gone, and no one was saying anything about it! They were all laughing as if nothing was wrong. And he hated them for it. He hated them. He looked at Sirius again, but Sirius wasn’t looking at him any more either. He was laughing along with them, shaking his head at something Uncle Alphard had said. Regulus hated him, too. He closed his eyes and pressed his hands against his ears to try and block out the sound of laughter that echoed through the room. He was dizzy and the air around him felt thick. It pricked against his skin. There was no escape. His ears were buzzing and he couldn’t tell what caused it. His hands began to shake so he released his ears and curled them into fists, clutching at the fabric of his robes, and he tried his best to get it all to stop. And then, suddenly, the entire table shook. He could feel it in his bones, he could tell by the sounds he heard, and the relief that washed over him when it happened. Rattling dishes, goblets that tipped over, a loud cracking sound. Some people gasped. Bellatrix cursed. The table continued to shake and the chairs shook with it. The sounds built louder and louder, deafening – then it went still. Regulus opened his eyes. He felt a lot better now nobody laughed or chattered any more. Everyone was staring at him. His breath hitched. He saw the destruction he’d caused. The table had broken into two, Bellatrix’s robes were drenched in red wine and platters of food had smashed onto the floor. And everyone was looking at him. Until Uncle Alphard started to laugh again. ‘Well, well,’ he said, sounding almost amused. ‘Look who’s feeling left behind!’ Regulus’ cheeks burned. He hadn’t meant to do it. He had just been so, so angry … Grandfather Arcturus clasped him on the back and praised him for the display of magic, and then the adults set to clean up the mess. A few minutes and some spells later, the kitchen looked as good as new (the same couldn’t be said about Bellatrix’s robes, however, which retained a red tint). Regulus stared down at his hands. They’d stopped shaking, but he hadn’t forgotten how they’d felt when he’d— Sirius kicked him under the table. Regulus looked up at him and saw his confused eyes and wide smirk, as if asking him to do it again, or how he’d done it, or something. Regulus shook his head. He couldn’t. He wasn’t even sure what had happened. It had felt so…so strange. So different. Sirius’ face fell. Regulus shrugged. He didn’t know what to say. It hadn’t been deliberate. Surely Sirius knew that? It was impossible to do it again if he didn’t even know how he’d done it the first time. He looked around the table. Did they think he’d done it on purpose? That he was out for attention? But the conversation had moved on, as if nothing had happened at all. Well, Bellatrix was still fuming, dabbing at her ruined robes with her wand, but no one paid her any mind. Grandfather Arcturus was speaking to Uncle Cygnus, who sat on his right, as if he’d been there all along, and Regulus noted that Aunt Druella had not come with him. And Mother and Father? Still missing. He clenched his fists beneath the table, anger building again. Then he caught Uncle Alphard’s eye. ‘So,’ he said, ‘are you going to tell us what that was about?’ Regulus’ jaw tightened. Uncle Alphard just raised his eyebrows. The whole table was silent again. The whole table was looking at him again. ‘I didn’t mean to,’ he muttered, because he had to answer. It was ruse not to. ‘It just happened.’ ‘What’s on your mind then, for this to “just happen”?’ Regulus didn’t answer. Suddenly it felt very childish, to be so concerned about his mother and father and to even cause the table to break because of it. Uncle Alphard’s gaze flickered to Sirius. ‘Does this happen often when he’s in a mood?’ Sirius scoffed. Regulus felt his cheeks burn. Luckily, Grandfather Arcturus didn’t let the conversation carry on. ‘Perhaps this means he’ll be more powerful than his brother.’ ‘I don’t see why you always have to compare us,’ Sirius muttered. Grandfather Arcturus brushed his complaint away. ‘It is natural to measure one brother against the other. And you did something remarkable today, Regulus.’ Sirius was glaring at Grandfather Arcturus now. Sirius was glaring at him now as well, and it made Regulus feel sick. This was wrong. This whole morning had gone terribly wrong. ‘Where are Mother and Father?’ he blurted out, unable to hold it in any longer. He didn’t care if it made him look childish. Anything was better than whatever this was. ‘You noticed, then?’ asked Grandmother Irma. ‘Is that what all this was about?’ He nodded. Of course he had noticed. How could he not? ‘Where are they?’ he asked again, voice quieter now. Grandmother Irma didn’t say anything. She looked helplessly at her husband, who also kept quiet. In fact, nobody seemed willing to talk at all. Nobody except for Bellatrix. ‘With my mother,’ she said. She had finally stopped trying to salvage her robes. Regulus pressed his hands against his knees. He wanted to leave. He wanted to find them. He wanted to know what was going on. It was as if Bellatrix read his mind. Perhaps she really could. ‘They’re upstairs,’ she said. ‘Regulus—’ Grandfather Arcturus warned, reaching out to hold onto his arm as Regulus jumped to his feet. He struggled against his grip but then, a few seconds later, found himself slip out easily; Bellatrix had her wand drawn and pointed in their direction. She held out her hand for him to take. He hesitated, but considered it safe enough to go with her for now. She seemed to be the only one willing to tell him anything at all. ‘Why did they leave? Why aren’t they eating?’ Regulus asked Bellatrix as they entered the hall. She hesitated. ‘There are certain matters that need discussing. Matters that aren’t for children’s ears.’ ‘I’m not a child.’ ‘Aren’t you?’ she said softly. There was something almost sad in her tone. He let go of her hand, something that was surprisingly easy. ‘I want to see them.’ ‘And you will. But you’ll knock first. And if they tell you to leave, you’ll leave. Understood?’ He nodded. That seemed fair enough. She led him up the stairs, stopping in front of a door Regulus knew to lead to his uncle’s bedroom. She gestured for him to knock. Regulus raised his hand, hesitated, then rapped his knuckles against the door. There was a pause. Then: ‘Come in.’ Inside, his parents stood near the fireplace. Neither looked happy to see him. Aunt Druella and Aunt Lucretia sat in armchairs, looking equally tense. They had all turned to him as he stepped inside. ‘Regulus, what are you doing here?’ Regulus squared his shoulders. ‘I wanted to know where you were. No-one was saying anything.’ Father exhaled slowly. ‘It’s nothing for you to worry about.’ Regulus frowned. ‘But—’ ‘Go back to the kitchen.’ He didn’t move. ‘Now.’ Regulus swallowed. He wanted to protest. He wanted to demand answers. But one look at Father’s face told him he wouldn’t get them anyway. The recent punishment came to mind. His promise to do better. It wasn’t worth breaking it. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out. Bellatrix was still waiting in the hall. ‘Well?’ she murmured. Regulus shook his head. She sighed. ‘Come on, then. Back to the others.’ Regulus followed her slowly, his mind racing. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t nothing. And if they wouldn’t tell him, he’d just have to figure it out himself. Date: Several days, somewhere in March. Event: making quill, ink, dying quill. Date: 6 April 1969 Event: Easter at Uncle Alphard's. Walburga, Orion, Druella, Cygnus and Lucretia talk upstairs. Regulus worried. Accidental magic. Characters: Black Family: Walburga Sopdet Black Orion Sirius Black Sirius Pollux Black Regulus Arcturus Black Andromeda Black Bellatrix Black Cygnus Nigellus Black Druella Rosier Melania Macmillan Arcturus Rastaban Black Irma Crabbe Pollux Rigel Black Alphard Phineas Black