Title: The raid.

Summary: As two brothers meet each other in battle, no one can predict what will happen.

The raid didn't cost any lives. The Order had been there before they had made any victims. Sirius sighed in relieve, while he looked at the remaining Death Eaters. Their was still a battle going on, he reminded himself. He should help the rest, though they seemed to be handling it good.

He cast a look at the door and was just capable of making out the shape of James. He was looking after the Muggles and on the moment he seemed to be healing the small muggle-girl. Her mother stood close to the kid, holding her hands and trying to comfort her the best she could.

It was then that a scream pierced the air. Sirius whirled around. One of the Death Eaters had thrown a curse at Moony, who just managed to duck. "You, foul BASTARD!" Sirius screamed, engaging himself in a battle with the only Death Eater who could have possibly done it.

They battled, Sirius and his opponent seemed to be of the same strength. Sirius was fierce. He didn't like it when somebody touched his Moony. Or his Wormtail, or his Prongs, for that matter. His opponent backed away, and for a moment Sirius thought he was winning.

He made a mistake. A big mistake. He was battling careless, as Lily later would berate him. He thought he was winning. There was a moment in which his attention faltered. A moment at which the Death Eater pointed his wand at Sirius and smiled because he knew he had won.

Sirius noticed, too late to react. Sirius noticed, feeling that he was a dead man walking. Sirius noticed, knowing that he was a dead man walking. The Death Eater pointed his wand and started the incantation. Started, yes, but never completed.

In some moment of mercy he withdraw his wand. Sirius was no fool. He used the moment to throw a curse at the man. His opponent was thrown to the wall, losing his wand on the way. By the sound of it the man broke something. He didn't seem capable of moving, so Sirius came closer.

The man lay broken and seemed a bit lost. That was strange. A man who lost a fight should look beaten, hurt, maybe broken, but not lost. Suddenly it hit Sirius, this was not a man, this was just a kid, a boy. It should have calmed him down, this realization, but it didn't. It only fueled his anger.

He strode forward, looking at the boy. "How dare you?" The boy squirmed. "How dare you. How dare you touch my friends??" Sirius was screaming. All his anger, at the Dark Lord, at his black family, at the world, came out, directed at the kid laying there. "My friends."

"My friends," he repeated. "My friends.." The boy shied away, as Sirius was getting closer and closer to him. Sirius put his face so close to the kids face that he could feel him breath in a rapid, scared way. "You know what we're going to do with you lot?" He asked, his voice dangerously low.

The kid didn't respond. Or maybe he did, if you call wincing and looking pleadingly through his white, dead like mask responding. "We're going to call the aurors. And they will take you with them. You know where?" The kid made a movement with his head that could be interpreted as a nod. Sirius didn't.

"To Azkaban. To the dementors. They will suck out you soul!" He laughed mirthless. "See how you like that!" The kid looked at him pleadingly. "They will. And don't think I'll protect you." He grabbed the Mask. "Regulus."

Sirius froze. "Regulus? Regulus" The shock on his face was evident. "Reggie?" The kid looked shaken and scared. "Siri… Siri. I'm sorry. Please, p..p..please, don't let them take me." Two boys shared a look. Two brothers shared a look.

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Regulus lay beneath the warm covers of Sirius bed. "And I thought you said you wouldn't help me?" He laughed. Sirius joined in.

The end.