It proved a lot more difficult than he’d thought it would be when he’d decided to find it out by himself, that Easter Sunday – not least because Mother and Father didn’t give him any chance to. They had come downstairs only a few minutes after him and had been so angry they dragged Regulus right back home again, and he’d spent the rest of the week locked in his bedroom. It gave him a lot of time to think about what had happened, though, and a lot of time to decide that it wasn’t something he could figure out without help. So when his bedroom door opened again, one morning, he tiptoed straight to Sirius’ room.
He knocked softly on the wood. The door creaked open about a second later, and Sirius ushered him inside. The room wasn’t very tidy, and Regulus wondered when Kreacher had last cleaned up; robes lay scattered across the floor, shirts sprawled over the desk and chair, and books looked as though they’d been thrown at the bookshelf rather than placed on it. The only neat part of the bedroom was the dark green wallpaper, which was filled with moving drawings. It was the best part of Sirius’ room, in Regulus’ opinion. Sirius had done the drawings himself, and he wondered if his brother might draw him some too; he was really outgrowing his magical-creatures wallpaper.
He tore his eyes away and looked to Sirius, who sat on the bed with a Quidditch magazine open beside him. He could just make out that it was about what the new Nimbus 1000 might mean for the World Cup next year (which seemed ages away to Regulus, though he supposed it mattered to the players). Sirius closed the magazine before he could read any further.
‘So?’
Regulus sat down on the bed beside him but didn’t answer.
Sirius pressed on. ‘Well, what happened at Alphard’s? Did you find them? What did they say? You are going to tell me, aren’t you? Don’t just leave me in the dark.’
‘They wouldn’t tell me anything. They just told me to leave.’
‘Then you should’ve stayed longer,’ said Sirius. ‘Pressured them somehow. Demanded answers.’
‘I couldn’t.’
‘Did you at least try?’
‘I couldn’t!’ Regulus snapped, then winced at how loud his voice was. He clasped his hands over his mouth and turned to look at the door, straining his ears – nothing. He took a breath and whispered, ‘They weren’t going to tell me anything. And I wasn’t going to make them angry again.’
Sirius looked at him sideways. ‘Well, you weren’t very successful, then.’
‘I know. I’m sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘I didn’t –’
‘What did you do to the table, anyway? You never could break anything. You couldn’t even make the light appear last Hallowe’en.’
Regulus looked at his hands, then the ceiling, then the floor. Anywhere but Sirius. He hadn’t meant to break that table. It really had just happened. But the way it had felt … it scared him a little, and he didn’t want to talk about it. Sirius seemed to pick up on his silence.
‘Hey,’ he said, softer now. ‘It’s all right, you know. Accidental magic happens.’
‘It wasn’t … that.’
‘You were angry,’ Sirius said, ‘and then –’ he made a dramatic motion with his hands, imitating the table splitting in two.
‘It’s not the same. I mean, I was angry,’ he admitted, ‘but I didn’t – I didn’t mean to do anything.’
‘That’s how it works, though, isn’t it? Emotion – magic – boom!’
‘It felt different,’ he insisted. It hadn’t been like the times he’d summoned toys or biscuits when he was little and wanted them. It hadn’t felt like the time he’d gone from the topmost landing to the entry hall in a single second, racing Sirius down the stairs to see who was fastest.
Sirius shrugged. ‘Magic is magic. But if it was that different … maybe it just means you’ll be the more powerful brother after all.’
‘I don’t want to be more powerful than you.’
‘Why not?’
Regulus shook his head. He didn’t know how to explain it.
Sirius nudged him. ‘Come on, Reggie. Don’t look so miserable. Surely it’s not that bad. You got Bellatrix covered in wine! That’s got to make you feel better, at least a little.’
‘I just want to know what’s going on. Why Father wasn’t at the table. Why Mother left so quickly …’
‘Maybe they were just sick of Uncle Alphard.’
‘I don’t think so. Bellatrix said they were talking about something that isn’t for children’s ears.’
Sirius looked at him for a moment. ‘You really want to find out, don’t you?’
He nodded.
‘Then let’s do some eavesdropping.’
‘But they’d kill us if they caught us!’
Sirius grinned. ‘So we won’t get caught.’
He swallowed. He looked around the room, though he wasn’t sure what for, and bit his lip. His heart was racing behind his chest. It was reckless. It was dangerous. But he needed to know.
‘All right,’ he said.
Sirius jumped to his feet, looking as though it were his birthday and he’d just been handed one of those Nimbus 1000s he’d been reading about.
‘Wait!’ called Regulus. ‘What’s the plan?’
Sirius stopped by the door, hand already on the handle, and looked confused for a moment, then thoughtful. ‘We’re going to find out where they are, and then we’ll … well, we’ll just listen through the keyhole.’
‘And if they see us?’
Sirius shrugged. ‘We run.’
‘Right,’ said Regulus. That didn’t seem like a good plan.
‘What, have you a better idea?’
He didn’t, so he shook his head.
‘Then let’s go,’ Sirius said, and he opened the door.
Regulus followed him out onto the landing. They left the bedroom door open, worried it might creak and give them away, and crept down the stairs, straining their ears the whole way. Regulus shared a look with his brother. It was silent. Too silent. No sound came from the study, nor from either of their parents’ rooms, nor the bathroom. Quietly, they agreed Mother and Father couldn’t be on this floor, and headed down the next flight, glancing behind them every so often to check whether they were being followed, whether Kreacher might be watching. He wasn’t. They weren’t. They reached the second floor unseen.
And this floor was just as silent.
Sirius turned to Regulus. ‘Stay here.’
‘What? No!’
‘You’re noisier.’
‘I am not!’
‘Yes, you are,’ Sirius argued back. ‘D’you want to know what they’re hiding from us or not? Stay here.’
Regulus stayed. Sirius moved towards the smaller guest room and pressed his ear against the door. After a few seconds he pulled away and pushed it open; it gave a horrible creak that sent Regulus’ heart shooting into his throat. He spun around, sure someone must have heard, but there was nothing. Sirius opened the door to the other guest room too. That one didn’t creak.
He reappeared on the landing and shook his head. ‘And they won’t be talking in the toilet.’
Regulus had to agree with that. So down again they went. At the bottom of the stairs, they hesitated. The doors to the drawing room were shut, no light seeping from beneath them, no conversation to be heard from within. But that didn’t mean they weren’t in there. Where else would they be? Sirius pressed his ear against the wood and listened; Regulus copied him, but all he could hear was the faint crackle of the gas lamps. They both pulled away. They tried the handles, but the doors wouldn’t open.
‘Maybe they charmed it,’ Regulus whispered.
‘Probably,’ Sirius agreed. Then he did something that was very foolish, but also very brave: he rapped his knuckles against the door and called out, ‘Mother? Father? Are you in there?’
Regulus jumped and looked for somewhere to run, and had nearly reached what had once been their playroom when he realised there was no need to hide. Sirius’ shout hadn’t opened the door, nor caused any footsteps, murmurs, or any sign at all that they’d been heard. He crept back to his brother’s side, the hairs on the back of his neck rising as he worked out what that meant.
‘Kreacher?’ he called softly. But Kreacher didn’t come. He sniffled, feeling suddenly very small in their large London home.
Sirius met his eyes. ‘Reggie,’ he murmured. ‘I think we’re alone.’
Regulus nodded, still sniffling. ‘I think so too.’
‘You know what this means?’
He shook his head.
‘No parents means no rules. It means we can do whatever we want.’
Sirius was grinning widely now, and the excitement was a little contagious. Regulus wiped his nose on his sleeve and looked over his shoulder, half-expecting Mother to step out of the shadows and catch them. Nothing happened.
‘Come on,’ said Sirius, already at the stairs again. ‘Let’s have some fun.’
Regulus hesitated. ‘But we were going to eavesdrop, weren’t we? See why they left …’
‘Well, we can’t eavesdrop if they’re not here,’ Sirius countered, standing halfway up the staircase.
‘What if they come home? What if they catch us breaking even more rules? We’re not even supposed to be out of our rooms; they didn’t come for us yet.’
‘Well, if they come back, we’ll just run to our rooms and pretend we’ve been there the whole time.’
Regulus bit his lip. He knew it wasn’t a good idea. He knew. And yet …
‘Oh, come on, Reggie! It’ll be fun! We could play duelling, or act out one of the Goblin Rebellions. Or’ – his face lit up – ‘we could get out the broomsticks!’
‘I’m not going outside again. Not after last time.’
‘We’ll fly in here. Oh, please, Regulus, just this once!’ Sirius was practically bouncing with excitement, but Regulus still wasn’t convinced.
‘We’re not allowed to fly inside.’
‘They’ll never even know,’ said Sirius. ‘What are you so worried for?’
Regulus crossed his arms. ‘It’s forbidden.’
‘Oh, come on! This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing. Besides, you need the practice. You still wobble too much when you turn.’
‘I do not!’
‘You do, but we can fix that. If you come fly with me, that is.’
Regulus sighed. ‘I don’t know …’
‘Yeah, you do,’ said Sirius. ‘You know you want to have some fun.’
He had to admit there was something thrilling about the idea. ‘All right,’ he said, for the second time that day, hoping he wouldn’t come to regret it.
He followed Sirius back up to the topmost landing and fetched his own toy broomstick from his bedroom. Then they went down to the third floor, where they stood by the stairs, both straddling their brooms.
‘All right,’ Sirius said. ‘First one to do ten laps around the chandelier wins.’
Regulus eyed the ornate chandelier hanging above them. ‘But what are we playing for?’
He raised his fist dramatically. ‘For eternal glory!’
Regulus rolled his eyes. ‘That’s not a real prize.’
‘Fine. Winner gets to pick what we do next.’
That was better. He didn’t have time to say so, though, because Sirius had already kicked off the ground, rising towards the ceiling and beginning to circle the chandelier. Regulus pushed off after him. He wobbled at first, but the broomstick held steady, floating a few feet above the floor. Sirius shot past him, reaching out as if to touch one of the crystal ornaments before pulling away just in time, laughing. Regulus leaned forwards, gripping the broom tightly, urging it higher. He had to win, if only to put a stop to this nonsense before Sirius thought of something worse. Sirius was quick, but Regulus was more precise, flying between the dangling crystals without touching a single one.
‘Now you’re just showing off!’ Sirius called.
Regulus grinned. ‘Jealous?’
Sirius veered sharply left, circling Regulus before diving for the stairs. ‘Race you down!’
‘But we were racing round the chandelier!’ Regulus called after him. ‘This isn’t fair! You’re already ahead!’
Sirius only laughed, pushing his broom faster. Regulus chased after him, determined not to lose, angling lower to match his brother’s speed as they sped down another flight –
BANG.
Regulus barely had time to process what had happened. One second he was flying after his brother; the next, Sirius had collided with the staircase, tumbling down the last few steps with his broomstick. Regulus landed quickly, tossing his own broom aside, and rushed to his brother’s side.
‘Sirius!’ he called, kneeling beside him. ‘Are you –’
Sirius sat up, grinning. ‘I win.’
Regulus turned around, heart hammering, the hairs on the back of his neck rising again. The house was very, very quiet.
‘What if Kreacher heard?’ he whispered.
Sirius stood, brushing himself off. ‘Then he’d be here already.’
That was true. And the house was still silent.
‘See? No one’s here. We really are alone.’
Regulus didn’t like the way that sounded, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Sirius had already put his hat back on – it had fallen off in the fall – and held his broom ready to take off again.
‘What’re you doing?’
Sirius shrugged. ‘As I said: I won.’
‘You fell.’
‘I still won. I was down here before you.’
Regulus huffed but didn’t argue; he had been down here before him.
‘Let’s have a proper match.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I get to choose what we do next. And I choose Quidditch.’
‘But we haven’t any balls.’
Sirius thought for a moment, then pulled him into one of the guest rooms and grabbed a pillow off the bed. ‘Bludger.’ He tossed it into the air and smacked it towards Regulus. ‘Use your arm as a bat.’
Regulus yelped and barely dodged. ‘That’s not how it works!’
‘Of course it is,’ Sirius said, doing the same with a cushion. Regulus caught this one. ‘We’ll just make up the rules as we go.’
‘Fine. But we need a Snitch. And a Quaffle.’
Sirius rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a small gobstone and a dirty old pair of socks. ‘These’ll do,’ he said, tossing them to Regulus.
Regulus let go of the ‘Bludger’ to catch the others. The socks were vile, so he dropped them again at once. The gobstone –
‘It doesn’t fly.’
Sirius shrugged. ‘We’ll just throw it and chase it.’
Regulus sighed but agreed. It was the best they could do. ‘And how do we score? We haven’t any hoops.’
‘We’ll find something. Come on.’
They left the guest room with the ‘balls’ in hand and returned to their broomsticks. Regulus took the ‘Quaffle’ and one ‘Bludger’; Sirius took the ‘Snitch’ and the other. It was hard to balance on a broom with both hands full, but after a little practice a few feet above the floor, Regulus felt confident enough to start throwing his “Bludger” at Sirius and dodging his in turn. They smacked them back and forth until they could take a hit without falling. Then Sirius tossed the ‘Snitch’ high into the air. The ‘Bludgers’ were forgotten about at once; they both shot forwards to where they thought it would land, faster and faster until Sirius caught it, only to toss it up again. It fell over the banister and bounced off the stairs, down to the entry hall below. They went after it as fast as they could.
Just as Regulus stretched out a hand, Sirius swooped in from the side and snatched it away.
‘Too slow!’ Sirius yelled, veering left so they wouldn’t collide. Regulus scowled and sped after him, closing the distance. Sirius twisted midair, dodged at the last second, and threw the ‘Snitch’ back over his shoulder. ‘Catch!’
Regulus’ instincts took over. He lunged, fingers closing round the stone just before it hit the ground. His heart pounded with the thrill of it – but he barely had time to celebrate before a cushion smacked him in the face.
‘Bludger!’ Sirius laughed. He must have gone back for it while Regulus was chasing the ‘Snitch.’ The cushion fell to the floor with a thud. Spluttering, Regulus threw the ‘Quaffle’ straight up to buy himself a moment and dived sideways just as Sirius reached for it. Sirius couldn’t stop in time and nearly flew into the chandelier.
He spun his broom around, smirking. ‘That’s how you wanna play?’
Before Regulus could react, Sirius flew down, grabbed the cushion, and threw it – not at him, but at the chandelier. It struck the crystal ornaments, so they swayed and clinked wildly.
Regulus stared. ‘Sirius, stop! You’ll break it!’
‘Not if you hurry up and score!’ Sirius yelled, already throwing him the socks again.
Regulus caught them and looked around. ‘Score where?’
‘We could use Kreacher’s cleaning bucket,’ Sirius suggested.
Regulus spotted it by the front door, still half-filled with murky water from whatever task the elf had last been doing. He nodded. ‘Deal.’
Regulus went down, ducking and twisting out of reach whenever his brother tried to steal the makeshift Quaffle back. The moment he saw an opening, he threw it. The socks spun through the air towards the bucket – and landed on the floor beside it. He’d missed.
‘Nooo!’ Regulus groaned. Sirius burst into laughter.
‘You missed!’
‘You do it, then,’ Regulus huffed. ‘It’s not as easy as it looks!’
Sirius took the socks and they rose high again. When Sirius made his descent, Regulus made sure to follow him, as fast as he could. He managed to knock into Sirius’ broom, and, in the half-second Sirius had to steady himself, Regulus grabbed the socks. Sirius stayed right on his tail, but Regulus swerved sharply and threw the socks towards the bucket once more, determined to score properly –
SPLASH.
They landed in the dirty water.
Regulus turned to Sirius, grinning. ‘Ha! I win!’
Sirius groaned dramatically. ‘Ugh. Fine. You win.’
Regulus sat back on his broom, catching his breath. His heart was still pounding, but for the first time that day, it wasn’t from fear. The thrill of flying, the game, the laughter – it had made him forget all about the eerie silence of the house. But the second that thought returned to his mind, the uneasy feeling from before was creeping back in. The house was too still, too empty, and they were near the forbidden ground floor now, near the forbidden front door, breaking at least a hundred more rules.
Sirius hovered next to him now. ‘All right. You won. So you get to pick what we do next.’
Regulus hesitated. He didn’t feel much for breaking even more rules. ‘Maybe we should –’
A strange, thumping sound rose from somewhere below just then, echoing all the way up to where they hovered on their brooms.
Regulus looked at Sirius and found the same confusion and worry staring back at him. ‘Did you … did you hear that?’ he whispered, flying even closer to his brother.
Sirius nodded slowly. Another sound came from below.
‘What is that?’
Sirius didn’t answer. Instead he flew down, landed, and went looking for the source of the noise. He looked, Regulus thought, like a hero from one of the fairy tales they used to read. A hero who saved witches and wizards from the evil Muggles that wanted to burn and eat them.
Oh, no. There wasn’t a Muggle in their house right now, was there?
Regulus cowered on his broomstick, trying uselessly to hide behind the chandelier, which failed, because the ornaments were made of glass. He should go back and find a room to shut himself in, or at the very least land and watch from one of the upper floors and see what happened to Sirius from a safe distance – but what if his brother got hurt, or worse? There was definitely something in this house. There was another loud thump from below to confirm it.
And Sirius moved straight at the sound.
It seemed to be coming from the cloakroom. Had a Muggle sneaked in and hidden there? In the cloakroom, all this time? It must have got in when they’d left the house, but that was months ago, unless it had slipped in with the Ministry people. Perhaps it was some kind of trap set by them. Or – could Muggles walk through walls? He very much hoped they couldn’t.
He considered calling Sirius back, but what if the Muggle heard him, from up here, and came for him instead? It was better to stay here abd keep himself safe, and waiting up here until Mother and Father came home to deal with the Muggle didn’t seem like such a bad plan. If only Sirius agreed …
Sirius crept up to the cloakroom, took the handle in his hand, and opened the door. With one last glance up at Regulus, he went inside.
And Regulus was alone. The house fell silent again for several long seconds, and he couldn’t see his brother anywhere. He didn’t know if Sirius was all right, or if he’d been killed by the Muggle. He didn’t know anything.
Then there was a crack, and sound returned to the house: there was arguing, coming from inside the cloakroom. Regulus lowered his broom to hear better. What – or rather, whom – he heard then made all his fears disappear: Father was there. Father was in the cloakroom!
But Sirius backed out of the cloakroom stiffly, terrified, Father following close behind. He towered over him, his face red with fury as he rattled off everything Sirius had ever done wrong.
‘You disgust me,’ he spat, once he had Sirius cornered against the wall. ‘You are no son of mine.’
Regulus’ knees would have buckled had he been standing. He wasn’t, though. He was still hovering on his broomstick, and all he could do was flinch at the words and the hatred behind them. They stung, and he tried not to hear them. Sirius wasn’t a disgrace to the family. Sirius was his brother, and he loved him, and surely Father loved him too. He didn’t mean any of this. Not really. They’d simply made a mess of things, disobeyed him several times. It was only natural he’d be angry enough to say things like this, after everything they’d done. It was fair. They’d been horrible sons. But they’d broken the rules together, so surely they ought to be punished together.
He lowered his broom until he touched the ground. ‘Father!’ he called out. ‘Father!’
He moved towards him, slower than he meant to; his legs didn’t seem to want to move at all. He wanted to hug him, to tell him they’d never break the rules again, that he was so glad to see him home, that he’d missed him, and, most importantly, that there was a Muggle hiding somewhere in the house. Father, angry or not, meant safety. So when he reached him and flung himself at him, he expected strong hands to catch his shoulders, to pull him into a hug, to shield him from danger and promise to take down the Muggle single-handedly.
Instead there was a loud crack, and the fabric in his hands changed. His eyes shot up, and he recoiled in horror. Father was gone. In his place stood a tall, broad figure, bald and hatless, its eyes soulless pits sunk deep into its face, fixed on him with terrifying hunger. Regulus sank to the floor, clutching his legs. He knew he should run, but he was too weak to try. He could only stare at the thing before him – the Muggle – dressed in those filthy, strange clothes, its blackened teeth too sharp, too jagged, bared in a wicked grin. For a long moment it did nothing but stare back.
‘Oh, no, what’s this? Is Daddy gone?’ it rasped eventually, licking its cracked lips. ‘Not so brave now, are you? A little wizard boy, all alone.’
It stretched out its hands towards him, filthy fingers tipped with long yellow claws, and swiped.
Regulus scrambled backwards, and the Muggle came after him.
‘Come here, little wizard,’ it crooned. ‘Come here … I’ll grind your bones for bread … I’ll pluck out your eyes and keep them in a jar … I’ll turn your insides into a yummy stew …’
Regulus kept scrambling, barely feeling the sting of the carpet against his palms. The only thing that mattered now was getting away from the Muggle, which drew nearer, and nearer, until he could almost feel its fingers.
It froze. Its grin twitched, fingers curling shut. Its gaze flicked to the front door, and Regulus twisted round to see what it had seen.
He had never been so relieved to see anyone. Mother and Father stood in the doorway, their faces unreadable until they caught sight of him, and of the thing that had been chasing him.
‘Get here. Behind me,’ Father commanded, but Regulus couldn’t move. Mother’s face had twisted in horror at the sight of the Muggle, and he couldn’t blame her. Father’s eyes glinted dangerously, his wand trembling in his hand, but still Regulus couldn’t force his limbs to obey.
He chanced a glance back at the creature. Would it still try for him with his parents standing right there? But to his astonishment, the Muggle was already gone. Where its filthy, clawed hands had been, wrapped in tattered, bloodstained rags, there were now small, clean hands and elegant robes. And its evil face had somehow turned into his own. He was looking at his own body crumpled on the floor, eyes staring up at the ceiling, as soulless now as the Muggle’s had been.
Why was he lying there? Were Muggles shapeshifters, and was it trying to show him what it would do to him? But when he looked back at his parents to ask, Father’s face had gone ashen, his knuckles white around his wand. Mother made a small, choking sound. Regulus swallowed his question, not quite understanding what he was looking at. His unease only grew.
‘You think this will frighten me?’ Father said at last, and though his voice trembled, he managed something like a chuckle. ‘The shape you’ve taken is sitting right in front of you, alive and well. You’ll have to try harder next time. Riddikulus!’
There was a crack, and the small still face vanished from the floor. In its place lay a doll with an oversized head and an exaggerated smile. It was rather creepier than his own body had been, though Mother and Father seemed to find it funny. They let out something of a relieved chuckle and cast the spell again – ‘Riddikulus!’ – and the doll was gone with another sharp crack, leaving the hall empty except for themselves.
But Regulus still couldn’t move. His heart was still hammering loudly in his chest and his whole body was shaking. No, he was being shaken – Mother’s hands had found his shoulders, and she was trembling as hard as he was. He shook along with her until she pulled him upright and crushed him against her chest, one hand tangled in his hair, pulling just hard enough to hurt. He didn’t mind. He was afraid that if he let go she might vanish too, the way Father had, and become a Muggle.
Mother pulled away after a few long moments, taking him by the shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. Her voice was quiet.
‘Are you hurt?’
Regulus shook his head quickly.
She clipped him round the ear, but he barely even felt it. He was too relieved. ‘Don’t you ever do that again,’ she threatened.
Regulus nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak. He only wanted to lean back into her, to breathe in her scent, to let her robes swallow him whole. He wanted to stay there forever. But she tore away and turned towards the dining-room doors, forcing him to let go.
‘I – I don’t know,’ Sirius was saying, exiting the dining room with Father. ‘We – we just heard something in the cloakroom. I swear.’
Something in his voice twisted Regulus’ stomach, and he couldn’t help but think back to the scene from before. Father calling Sirius a disgrace, calling him no son of his …
Father nodded slowly. ‘That was a Boggart,’ he said. ‘They only show you what you fear.’
‘So the Muggle –’ Regulus croaked, his voice working better than he’d expected.
‘It’s gone now,’ Mother said, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. It had stopped shaking. ‘You’re safe.’