Title: The Other Half

Author: TeaTimeTeller

Disclaimer: JKR made up Harry Potter, and all its subtleties. I just try to use her stuff for my own humble means.

Rating: T- slightly sensitive themes

Summary: I have lived my life as the pampered child. The one my family reveres, loves, and cherishes. The preferred child. Yet there has always been one who I see as more then that- one who I have always wanted to be. The other.

Author's Notes: References to Wikipedia were made when consulting things such as ages (and birth years), names, and such. This is (I think) my first attempt at delving into the mind and character of Regulus Black, and why it is that he was the way he was. I'm hoping this makes up for the fact that I haven't posted anything decent in a long time. If you don't like it, that's cool, and if you do, that's even cooler. Happy reading. TTT

The Other Half

I have spent these first years of my, regrettably, short life in these hallowed halls. The same halls in which some of the purest and noblest of wizards have been raised. My mother has reminded me at least once daily of how I will be one to follow in the noble footsteps of my ancestors, and become great in my own time. This same mother is the one who scorns my sibling, with taunting and harsh words. These words chill me to the bone. Yet, I find myself inexorably drawn to the life of this elder counterpart. I find myself wishing, willing myself to be like him.

I am the eleven year old Regulus Black, about to start my journey to Hogwarts, and the one I speak of is the elder of the two sons in my family. Sirius Black. Now, it seems as if anyone in my family would call me crazy and shame me into my next life for expressing this desire. For, at the mere age of fourteen, Sirius has broken numerous family ties and traditions. A Gryffindor- unheard of under the roof of Grimmauld Place, but even more unworthy is the fact that he is friends with the members of his house. And only in his house, not a Slytherin in his friendship circle.

Even before he left home he was a trouble-maker. If my memory serves me correctly, as I have become accustomed to, then it was Sirius who overturned the Christmas dinner when I was a lowly four years of age. I can remember the endless punishments regaled upon him for shaming the name of Black in front of important members of wizarding society. I believe my name was often brought up in the discussions following that event. Regulus became a synonym for perfect; whilst Sirius became an antonym for it. I wonder what would have become of this usage of names if I had spoken up, and revealed that despite all his flaws, Sirius was who I wanted to become.

Yes, I realize that this idea is preposterous, and that no one in their right mind would have willed it upon himself. Yet, I did. For every bad quality, Sirius had one that I looked upon in favorable light. Once you pushed aside his disrespect for elders and the like, you saw a stroke of wit and ingenuity. For every problem he created, he found his way out of another one. And every time Sirius returns from Hogwarts, I seem to be the only one able to look past the detentions he received and see the brilliance for gaining popularity status which he flaunts as a prize Auror flaunts his awards. And though I have been informed by many an aunt or other such figure that I have a dark grace striking beauty upon my features, I fear I will never have the same look of haughty arrogance that adorns Sirius's.

When I was young, before Sirius left for Hogwarts, I would try, and fail, to mimic his actions. Because of these failures, no one took notice of my attempts. I would stalk the shadows, always keeping my older counterpart in my eyes, always working to achieve my latest goal of mimicry. Yet never could I complete the task. And these shortcomings only deepened the burning desire of mine to be just like him.

It was a shadowy autumn evening, shortly before my father departed for another mission for his line of work. All was still, as it always was, in the house, except for the low sounds of chatter coming from the busy common room on the base floor. It was shortly before I turned six, and Sirius was nine. In a lull in the already muted conversation below, I heard soft footsteps from the landing above me. A fleeting sense of wonder passed through my mind, for by my count, all occupants of the house were either down celebrating my mother's birthday, or were in their respective bedrooms, quietly entertaining themselves.

Though not curious by nature, and having all other curiosity stamped out of me at a young age, I was inclined to investigate upon the footsteps. I reached the upstairs landing quickly and silently, and peered over the ledge of the top stair. The only thing I could make out in the darkness was the shape of a solitary figure, poring over a large book. Unsure of what to do, I waited for a sign, anything really, that would allow me to make the decision to approach the figure or to leave and allow my instincts to take over. As I made a move to shift to a better vantage point, the silhouette shifted, and I froze.

A new sound, that of mutters and words crossed from the dusty corner, and I strained my ears to hear. Even with all my attention averted to it, I could barely make any sense of the low noises coming from the figure.

"Our family allegiances…tied to those of the pure race…without falter or failure… this shall be the creed of Black."

I recognized the voice of that of Sirius, seemingly disgusted by what I was reading. And, try as I did, I could not understand what he was reading, or why. It must have been only minutes which I was sitting there, but it felt like ages. When at last the shadowy figure placed the book in the corner, I silently scrambled to hide myself. I did not wish to alert the family's suspicions that I was interested in the slightest to Sirius and his misdoings. However, once the unsuspecting form of my brother had passed down the stairs, I crept warily to the corner where he had been seated.

Flipping over the heavy tome to reveal the title, the faded ink in an ancient font announced the words, 'The Most Royal Family of Black: Carry and Prosper in the Dying World.' This gave no hint as to why the words inside this called out filth to my brother's ears. Yet, I remembered the words that had come from his lips, and the tone with which he had repeated them. Remebered, and pondered, never understanding, and never really doubting that it was Sirius's warped view of right and wrong which led him to pronounce the words with such distaste. Yet, somewhere, that seed of doubt was planted. And over the years, it grew, ever slowly and slightly, but it grew.

And now, as I look back, I feel that this may have been my first real doubting that all that my mother forced me to comprehend, and all that my family stood for, was for a poor cause. After Sirius left for his first year at school, I became more conformed to my family's standards; more willing to accept the droning words without question. But I always admired Sirius, and with the passing of time, I began to realize the strength and willpower he had shown by never swallowing the ideas and traditions whole as I was doing.

No matter what inner battle was raging, I must never have shown hide or hair of it to those who saw me. I was still, as I had been named, 'the brightest star of the family youths' and the 'little king' of the Blacks. To all who met me, I was the impeccable symbol of purity and refinement, never letting on that the one I did not have the strength to be was the one which I was acting as an antonym for. And so I lived on in his shadows, always waiting, longing for that moment when I would be able to find my true self, the one whom would, excuse my obvious pun, shine out and be the true me.

xXxXxXx

The years went on, and I came to find myself more at home in Hogwarts than any other place I had known. And while, given my limited and narrow-minded upbringing, this is not saying much, I began to see the differences in views- not just in friends and clothing, but in bigger things, such as life. In the short periods of time in which I returned home, the same teachings were preached, the same views were made known. And more so then ever, I began to succumb to these ways.

The distance between my brother and I grew, and along with it, the gap in our views expanded. I was, as any true Black should have been, placed in Slytherin. It was no surprise, given this, that all of my friends were pure-blooded, the type my family would have praised, the type which I had been born to be. The part of me which longed to be Sirius, longed to be that brave soul, shrank; the ideas which filled this void were those of minds such as my parents.

My conversations with my brother, once long, and informative, became short, and to the point. They were never on our views anymore. Only on what we had for class, and the like. Petty things of little value. The more I was drawn from him, the more I began to feel that his way was the wrong way. The types of people he would associate with were, though smart, not of the level of cunning, resourcefulness, or pedigree which those whom I socialized with were. At first, I tried to retain the views I had kept when I was young, the open mind which was mindful of everything, always ready to take in new parts of life. But as the time passed, so did these attempts to keep myself free of everything which I was symbolic of.

I feel the moment when I truly lost all pretense of being my brother was when he left home. At sixteen, he was up and out, and I was left without the person whom I had centered my life around for the past ten years. The young me would have wondered why he had left, what he saw that I didn't. The young Regulus would have attempted to find a way to shadow his movements, if not quite as drastically. But the new me, the one who I began to feel was the real me, this one found itself irritated, ashamed that a Black could be so disloyal and brash.

As I cast about for a new center, and new person to attempt to become and imitate, I found myself being caught in a new circle, one which began to rise to power. When I was with this group, I didn't find the need to find routes around places where I knew my brother would be. As one of this group, I could walk by the older Gryffindors and not care; I could even look down upon them. After my brother graduated, I never spoke to him again. I found there was no need to. I began to feel proud to have found the source of power in the school, began to think that I was a true Black, and that I would make my family proud. I had become a Death Eater.

It was a hot summer day, the sun beating down upon the rickety train as it pulled from the Hogsmeade station. The rowdy seventh years ran up and down the corridors, celebrating their newfound freedom as Hogwarts graduates- among them, Sirius. The infamous Gryffindor was shouting with his friends when I passed. I didn't even look at him if he hadn't pulled me into an empty compartment. Stunned, I didn't protest, only stared at him with an obvious disdain, the type, I realized, that my mother had used to bestow upon him.

"Regulus, you don't have to have to disgust me as wholly as you do now," he said, in a tone of pure venom. The words had little effect on me. I had been trained to not regard him as a brother since he left home, and the training now ran through my veins as easily as my natural blood.

"And you don't have to be the world's greatest git, you know that?" My cool reply hardened something behind his eyes, which were now cold and distant.

"Perhaps not. But I can see which road you are headed on, and it's the one you would be expected to follow, given your upbringing." I hastily bit back a retort, nearly letting slip the word 'our' in his presence. With Sirius, there would never again be an 'our', a 'we' or an 'us'. Only a 'you'. I held my head high, and my voice was steely as I replied.

"And it's the road which you were never fit for, the one you were destined to miss since your first talk with those books of yours." I knew from a flicker in his eye that he had not known anyone knew his disdain for the Black family books as a child. "Your road is one which will only succumb to ruin as the Wizarding world comes to a point. My road is the one which will succeed, for He will make it so." Upon these words, Sirius immediately replied, for once showing slight emotion from a river which I thought had long since run dry.

"Regulus, your road will lead you nowhere but to your grave. It's not too late. You made the wrong choice once, but it's not too late for you to make a different one." As a Slytherin, my face masked my desires, and as a Black, my desires masked my emotions. Sirius would never know how much those words stung, the memories they brought back. For a moment, I was the young, the innocent Regulus Black. But once the moment was past- it was gone. The new, true Regulus had returned. Icily, I said the last words that would ever be passed between the two of us.

"My road is the one road. It is the only one which leads anywhere. I don't need the help of a traitor to help me find my ways." Without another look, I moved swiftly out the door, and down through the corridor. Once safely back in my compartment, his words were pushed out of the front of my mind. Yet they were placed with all the other things I had used to know. They found their rightful place among the other memories of Sirius. And they vanished, never returning to haunt me, never causing me a night of troubled sleep.

Even now, as I take my last journey from Hogwarts, the memory of that final conversation fades from my mind, is replaced by the plans for this summer, the thoughts of Death Eater meetings and tasks well accomplished. I find myself even more swept into the quicksand of purity. At a single movement made to take myself from my current life, I find myself pulled into it more. And for that reason I am, and will always be, Regulus Black, loyal servant of the Dark Lord.

xXxXxXxXx

As I stand before the Dark Lord, I find myself overwhelmed by his presence. Of late, I have seemingly become a favorite of his. A favorite to the point of where I know his biggest secret, one which, were I to disgorge it, the one which would mean the end of Tom Riddle. Yes, I know his real name, too, the one which he pushed behind the mask of Lord Voldemort. And tonight, he will give me a secret mission, one of apparent might and importance.

Dismissing the previous servant, he turns his focus to me. I bow, uttering the words of servitude which have become my creed. His voice, authoritative and powerful, washes over me like the spring rains do on a dry field. I take in every word, desperate not to miss a single part of the mission which is to come.

"Regulus Black, are you willing to accept this mission no matter what the risks, and what bonds it may sever?" Eagerly I nod. I have come to the point where I would run any risk to be part of this elite bunch which he calls his friends. But at his next words, I am taken aback. "The your mission is to kill the one which you have an unending bond with. Sirius Black."

His words pierce me like a dagger. Without warning, words flood my head, distant memories echoing as if it were a hollow basin. I hear his voice, intermixing with itself as different conversations fight their way into my head. My Lord and my surroundings swam slightly as my mother's voice joined the din, contradicting everything Sirius said.

"Look at our family, Reg, look around. You're only five but you're already taking in everything they say. You don't deserve that."

"You're going to be just what this family stands for, and I'm so proud of you, Regulus. Your father and I are certain that you'll be a role model for all who follow you."

I am Regulus Black. I am a Black, through and through. I have no need for Sirius, so why is it that I find my mouth not working to accept the mission. Sirius Black isn't my brother, friend, or anyone I care about. So why is it that I can't find it in myself to say yes? And then, I realize.

I'm not the one whom I have been pretending to be since I was a young teen. I am not the person who eagerly swallows all the beliefs and traditions of the family which I am a part of. That person was the fake Regulus, the one without and sense of who he really was. The true me is the one who followed the man which I have now been assigned to kill like an adoring puppy when he was young. That person has been hidden away now, for Merlin knows how long.

"Our family allegiances…tied to those of the pure race…without falter or failure…"

Those words, spoken by my brother a long time previous to now, the ones written in the musty pages of a book long forgotten hit me like a curse. In my mind, they shimmer tauntingly, as if daring me to prove them wrong, to create a new bond, one of a new breed of Black- the ones who went against the family grain and made a new road. At first, I could not take up the word's dare. I could not go against what I have been for most of my life. But then, from somewhere deep inside me, I found Sirius. I found his bravery, the bravery I had been pining for all my life. Raising my eyes to my master, I breathed the words of defiance, the ones which were never to be spoken by any Death Eater so long as he lived.

"No." The syllable was soft, barely loud enough for me to hear, and I wondered if it had actually reached the ears of the man standing before me. A fleeting glance showed to me that they had, and that they had not been welcomed. Voldemort's face was one of pure fury, mirroring every horrible emotion known to the Wizarding race. For the first time, I realized the consequence of my actions.

"Regulus, your road will lead you nowhere but to your grave."

How ironic it seemed, that the last words spoken by the brother I now fought for, would be the ones in which he found the truth dawning upon him. However, I will not cower, waiting for this fate to take my life. I will fight. I will take the road of dignity which would make my mother and deceased father proud. I will take the road which Sirius would have been proud of; Sirius, who will never know that I, his brother, died fighting for him. Sirius, who will presume I died fighting for the Dark Lord, rather then against him. Sirius.

If I were to live through this, I know what the first thing I would do would be. I would go to Grimmauld Place, and take down a heavy tome of a shelf, a book which has probably never been open save for one time. I would open that book, read until I reached a certain page. And upon that page, over the original words, I would write.

"Our family allegiances…tied to those of each other and to our brethren…without falter or failure…this shall be the creed of Black."