Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Regulus Black

You sit in your bedroom at Grimmauld Place, contemplating the Slytherin banners that line your walls. The opposite to the red and gold that line your brother's, slightly larger, room. The only thing he ever got over you, you reflect. Probably because you weren't born yet, you think haughtily, and Sirius hadn't quite managed to rebel yet. Well, not as much, Sirius was always a rebellious child. But never more so than now.

Even in your room on the top floor, you can still hear the yells echoing down in the kitchen. At fourteen though, you've managed to block out most of the noise, through practice. Your mother and brother have had these rows often enough now that you're not surprised in the slightest. It's just a habit they haven't broken.

Maybe you can see where Sirius is coming from. But there have always been the pureblood ways that your parents tried to teach Sirius and you swallowed up like oxygen. Maybe you can understand what Sirius means but you've always been an obedient child, you listen to what your parents tell you. And, you think to yourself, they haven't been wrong yet. It's much easier, much safer, to go along with your mother and father, and Cissy, and Bella and the rest of the Blacks. The rebellious path Sirius chose seems so much harder than the road you've dutifully taken.

And that's what you admire about your brother.

Even when you were kids, he never took the easy way out. You remember when he was 12, you were 10, and a little muggle girl was lost. She must have been about eight and she gone out to play but couldn't remember which house was her aunt's. Sirius went with her and knocked on every door down our street in search for her family. Making her laugh and smile, even though she had no idea where she was and should have been very scared. He could have just told her to keep trying by herself, but he didn't. He took the long road, just for the sake of someone else's happiness.

It was chivalrous and brave and from that day forth you had no doubt that your brother belonged in Gryffindor. You sort of wish you were the same.

It hurt, that fact that he was a Gryffindor, especially a few months later when you walked up to the sorting hat and it sorted you into Slytherin. But as you've explained, you always were docile. And you've never done a brave thing in your life, and it makes you loathe yourself that you know it. Wouldn't it be easier to live in ignorant bliss? But you know the truth. You know you're a coward, a brain-washed coward. You're only fourteen but you can't back out now. You've been your parent's well-trained pet from the start, and it's hard to change what's been a fact for fourteen years.

A bang brings you back to reality. A door slamming in the room along the landing. It's not unusual in the holidays for that to happen, with both your mother and brother home, but there's something about the slam that makes you creep to your door. Your brother's door ricocheting off the wall makes you wonder how bad the fight really is.

You peep your head around the doorframe of your room to see Sirius's door wide open, still vibrating slightly from the force of the slam, with a bunch of swearing and various curses coming from your brother's room (you never knew he could be so creative with his curse words). Inching out of your room, you stand in the entrance to his.

Sirius is moving fast, pulling things down from shelves and throwing them into the open trunk at the foot of his bed.

"Are you going somewhere?" You ask him. It's not like the two of you hate each other. You don't get on well, mostly to do with the houses you were sorted into and the ways you interpreted your parents' lessons, but you're brothers. Nothing can change that. And even brothers who aren't on the same wave length want to know what's going on when the other is throwing things angrily into a trunk.

"I'm out of here, Reg, I'm not staying." He said with his back to you as he continued hurling things into his bags.

"Why?" It's not a plea for him to stay. You know enough about your brother to know that once he's made up his mind about something, there's no one that can stop him (with the possible exception of James Potter) and you're not sure you want to stop him anyway. You just want to know why this is the right time to leave. You're not going to lie; you've seen this coming for awhile. But maybe he's shocked you because he's actually going through with it. Maybe you thought he'd never have guts. You shouldn't have doubted. You made your decision on your bravery, your non-existent bravery which is completely different to Sirius's Gryffindor courage.

"Because I don't belong here, and I don't think I ever did. And I'm bloody sick of all your bloody pureblood supremacy rubbish." You wince as he very obviously included you in that 'your'. "You're all pathetic and I hate it all. I hate this family, this god damned house and everything to do with the Blacks. So I'm out. I've had enough, I'm leaving."

You just stand in the doorway, watching him pack the last of his belongings. Once he finishes he turns around and sees you still standing there.

"I'm sorry, Reg, for not being like you. For not gulping down all their bull but I can't help that. I just wasn't meant for this family." He says to you, his trunk standing next to him, a bag slung over his back, ironically black hair falling over his face.

You just nod in response. There's nothing to say. You've got nothing to say to him.

"Maybe you'll see that too some day. I sure hope so but I'm not sure. It's never too late you know. I'm sorry." He says finally and with that he walks past your small figure and into the hallway, down the stairs and out the front door.

You don't turn around from where you stand, in the doorway of Sirius's room, but you hear the front door slam. You head back to your own room, hearing your mother yell from several floors below. The words 'good riddance' catch your ears.

But you disagree.

With Sirius there, it almost seemed like that maybe, if you had the guts one day, you could change. Now, with him gone, you're not so sure. Your path was picked out long ago, just as his was. Maybe by fate, destiny or karma. Or maybe by a six year old boy who refused to go to cousin Bella's birthday, and a four year old that went quietly without a word.

You can't but help feel envious. Wish that his path was yours. If you had had the courage to do as he did, maybe everything would work out differently. Better. But maybe not. Whichever it is, you never did, don't and never will have the courage to do so.

And with Sirius gone, you're envious.

To be a Gryffindor and have the bravery to walk out on your family. To stand up to their bloody pureblood beliefs. You've always agreed with them, but you're not so sure now. Not so confident.

Maybe it's the idolising older brother stage you went through when you were about six coming back to haunt you. But maybe it's the way that you think you know, deep down, somewhere in your gut, that Sirius knows exactly what he's doing.

You're envious.

You envy your Gryffindor brother.

Wishing you had the courage to do what he did. To even have the bravery to doubt.

But you don't.

To the Dark Lord

I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.

I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.

R.A.B

Your hand shakes as you put your quill back in your ink pot. You can't quite believe yourself what you are about to do. But you know you have to. You're the only one who knows about the Dark Lord and his Horcrux, you're the only one who can get rid of it and make the Dark Lord mortal again.

You could tell Dumbledore, or some other Order of the Phoenix member, but who would trust you? Known Death Eater and Sirius Black's evil younger brother? No one, that's for sure. You'd be dead long before you could even open your mouth, or hold up the white flag.

No. This is something you must do alone. It's the end of you, but hopefully the dark lord too.

You walk over to Kreacher's cupboard, knock on the door and ask him to take you to the cave. You grab his small wrist, it was shaking but you didn't give it much thought, too nervous about what you are about to do, and with a crack the two of you disapparate. You cut your arm with a knife that you kept in your pocket, rubbed some blood against the wall, just as Kreacher had said the Dark Lord had done to him. Walking across the floor of the dark cave, Kreacher shows you where the boat is and you manage to heave it up. Once there, the two of you set off, in silence, for the middle of the lake.

You can feel something, no some things moving beneath you but you try not to look. You don't want to know what's beneath the surface, what you'll end up meeting, you know for certain you won't make it out of here alive.

If you did, the Dark Lord would know, he'd go after your parents, your cousins. You couldn't have that, now could you? With the small vestiges of courage you possess, you take a deep breath and step out of the boat.

The potion is green in colour. How fitting, you think to yourself. A sickly green, just like the Slytherin colours you obediently wore at school. The colours of the house you wanted to be a part of, and didn't want to belong to at the same time. Before you turned fifteen, there was always a glimmer of hope that maybe you'd change. After Sirius left, everything went spiralling downwards. The mark on your left arm is proof of that, you think sadly as you unconsciously rub it.

You don't know why, but you seemed to swallow up the beliefs even more than before. It was so easy, to make your family happy; to show them that they could have a son they could be proud of (unfortunately for you, the one they should be proud of certainly wasn't you). Somewhere along the lines, you started truly believing in the pureblood supremacy yourself. You were brainwashed. Naive and stupid. You should have seen what was coming happen. Your mind wasn't clear until the day that Kreacher returned from his mission with the Dark Lord.

It was then that everything fell into place.

All the lies, the views, the values your family had brought you up on had come tumbling down. The belief that what you were doing was right, that following the Dark Lord was right, crumbled into nothingness. You couldn't have been more disgusted with yourself. More envious of your brother, who managed to escape it all.

Well here, tonight, in this cave, maybe you'd make a difference.

You tell Kreacher to make sure you keep drinking until the potion is finished, to make sure that he switches the real locket with the fake (your note enclosed in it) and to get himself out of here, alone. You order him never to tell your mother, or anyone else what had happened and to make sure, more than anything, that he destroys the real locket. He's shaking now, begging you not to do it, that he'll do it instead but, for once in your life, you ignore him.

You start to feel insane from the moment the potion touches your lips which are dry with nerves. Memories echoing around your head. All the ashamed thoughts, broken promises, innocent people tortured flow through your insane head. Screams, yells and cries of pain. It makes you cry, you call out to anyone to help you, your mother, father, Sirius, anyone to save you from you memories. The ones you never allowed yourself to think of. More yells and screams and you want to die. Kill me. You think, Kreacher, just kill me, please.

Water. You need water. The potion burnt up your throat, dancing on it, making you want to die with the pain of it. Water. You need it now.

You crawl to the surface of the lake; the mucky water looks appetising, even in this state. The moment the cool liquid touches you, you know you're dead. Soon will be anyway.

Your last conscience thoughts as the Inferi pull you down to the bottom of the lake and the water fills your aching lungs and you want to die sooner in pain, they're about daring nerve and chivalry that set Gryffindors apart.

You don't want to sound arrogant, but you probably do, it's in your nature after all, but maybe, you think, just maybe you've done what your brother did.

Not exactly the same, but still. You stood up to their pureblood beliefs; you never belonged, not really. You just acted like you did.

Maybe you were more like your blood traitor brother than you thought.

Author's note: Now this will be the longest chapter (I've just got so much to say about Regulus but not as much for the other four) and I hope you enjoyed it. I'm a bit worried about the end part. I, obviously, have never drowned to death so I don't know what that would feel like so I'm sorry if that sounds unrealistic. Well I hope you enjoyed it anyway.

The next chapter will probably take a little longer to come out as I haven't finished it yet. But hopefully in the next couple of days.

Thanks for all the reviews. I really appreciate them, they mean so much. So thanks!

TTFN

Dork-with-glasses

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo