Dear Brother,
When we were young, we would always do crazy adventures, it seemed. Always playing a prank, always trying to make our parents annoyed, always causing mischief. But one day, when we were a tiny bit older, you said something I never will forget.
You said you didn't want to be like them, like our family. Of course, I asked why. You said they were evil, and thought they were better than everyone else because of blood status. I didn't know what to think when you said that, but when you did, everything changed. Slightly, at first.
It started with your hair. Mother always said we needed short, proper haircuts, or else we'd look no better than a nasty muggle. But you never cut your hair. It grew to just below your shoulders, and I always secretly admired it. It was absolutely beautiful.
And then you turned eleven, and you left home. Mother was very excited, and couldn't wait until she got the news that her little heir had gotten into Slytherin. Except, you didn't. You were in Gryffindor, and the news sent her crazy. I had never seen her so mad. She was yelling at everyone, screaming about filthy blood and betrayal, and I was scared.
I wanted you to be here, because you always seemed to have a way to make light of situations with your humour. I needed your humour very much, then. But I knew, in that moment, nothing would ever be like it was. Somehow, I understood that you'd never be the same brother and Mother wouldn't be the same mother.
Instead of green and silver, you got red and gold. I'd never admit it when I got sorted into Slytherin, but I always preferred red over green. Speaking of, when I was wearing that old, floppy hat, the only person I saw in that huge room was you. You, biting your nails and closing your eyes.
Slytherin. I was in Slytherin, just like they had all wanted and expected of me. But I wasn't paying attention to them, only to you, and I noticed the way your shoulders fell and you looked down. At first, I panicked, thinking that you were disappointed in me.
But then you lifted your head, gave a brave smile, and clapped the loudest for me. I was filled with reassurance, and ran to my fellow table.
The rest of the year continued on, and while I wished for us to pass by more often in the halls, we rarely saw each other. And when we did, we didn't have time to talk. Not like we always did. Not like we used to.
Finally, it was Christmas break, and I was ready to spend time with you, make fun of our parents, and fall back into our pranking routine.
But no, you had said, I'm gonna stay here with James and Remus and Peter this Christmas. I felt like crying, if I'm being honest, but I understood why. Mother and Father would definitely not be good to you if we both came back, me meeting expectations and you not.
So I held back tears, said farewell and "Merry Christmas!", and walked away. That Christmas was, surprisingly, the worst Christmas I had ever experienced. You weren't there. All of our traditions were over, it seemed. It would truly never be the same way again.
We were back in school, but I had new friends, you had your friends, and we were just different. We never spoke, we never visited, and I could feel a rift in our closeness.
The years continued the same way. You were never home for Christmas, until you weren't home at all. Mother drove you away, and you now lived with your new best friend James Potter. I didn't exactly hate James, I actually thought he was a well-rounded guy. I couldn't help but be a bit jealous, since he had you now for a brother. But I also don't blame him for wanting you as a brother.
And then the older seventh years decided to hold a meeting in the common room. They said everyone had to be there, and since I was a fourth year, I went, wanting to be apart of the crowd. But it wasn't at all fun, what they were talking about.
Join Voldemort, they had said. Become a Death Eater with us, learn the dark arts, and follow him as he fixes this world. Narcissa and Bellatrix cheered, and I was so caught up in wanting to make Mother proud and fitting in that I agreed.
I did study the dark arts. I learned all I could about Voldemort through the meetings that the seventh years held every Friday. But, something was missing. I wasn't...happy. I would see you, Sirius. I would see you running around with your group of friends, laughing, jumping, joking around. I saw all the pranks you would pull, and they were always quite hilarious.
You even had nicknames for each other. I used to have a nickname, but it wasn't near as creative as the ones you gave to your mates.
But then I would see Narcissa and Bellatrix's disapproving glares and huffs, and I would fall back into my boring routine. I began to realize what you said about our family was true, Sirius. They are evil, and I want to be different from them. But I was too far into my mess, and I had to continue.
I kept studying, and studying, until I was in my seventh year. The war had started, and I was expected to fight for the side I wanted to lose. Voldemort was evil. And I realized that too late.
And Sirius, I don't want the last memory you have of me being evil, because I am not like them. So, I'm going to drink this potion that will cause me terrible pain, and I am going to make things right. Voldemort will not win this one, Siri. Because I am not like them, I am like you. I might be a Slytherin, but I will always be a brave lion, like you, at heart.
Sincerely,
Regulus.