Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Shadows of Stars
I am a firm believer in the people. If given the truth, they can be depended upon to meet any national crisis. The great point is to bring them the real facts. ~
Abraham Lincoln
An icy hand grabs hold of him tightly and Sirius feels the uncomfortable tug of a side-along apparition before he has time to do more than utter an oath, the kind that would have Lily frowning at him. When he's able to open his eyes, he feels that familiar swell of resentment at the sight of the ancestral home.
Figures he would choose this hell hole, of all places, to die in, he thinks and it's moments before he comprehends his own thoughts, feeling a wave of disgust at his callousness. It could all be a trap – it some ways, he would much rather it be one – but there's an inherent part of himself that refuses to believe that his brother would plot against him in quite this way.
He follows his cousin across the road with neither of them looking left, nor right. Clearly the anti-apparition charms are still in place. The shadows it casts are physical as well as metaphorical, feeling constrictive and oppressive, that old feeling of claustrophobia slowly settling over Sirius. Evan Rosier opens the door, and it's the absence of the security measures that are usually in place that convinces Sirius of the authenticity of the situation, more than anything else. They march down a familiar corridor that retains its power to inflict despondency on Sirius, and up the stairs, stepping to the right of the one that creaks if trod upon anywhere else.
None of the gas lights are lit and the portraits are all throwing him looks of sympathy but Sirius is unaware of any of this, the urgency Rosier is feeling contaminating him enough for his heart to be beating much faster than when he had thought he was facing a Death Eater out for his blood.
Reaching the second floor, he pauses for the briefest of moments before a room to his left, eyeing it for less than a second before following Rosier into the room just beyond it. Familiar colours of green and silver inflict his eyes but the grimace is less to do with the room that has remained unchanged and more to do with the bastard standing in the centre of the room. Not even the presence of the dratted house-elf shifts the focus of his loathing. Their eyes meet briefly and Sirius is ready for this, the omnipresent rage pulsing through him again, biding its time for an outlet and who better than Snivellus? The simple nod he receives surprises him enough that he doesn't unleash his ire.
'Listen, Kreacher,' the name sounds as sour as the face of the wizard speaking it. 'Your master told you not to tell his family or friends, is that correct?' Sirius' eyes shifts to the despised house-elf, who appears on the verge of the ultimate breakdown, tears leaking unopposed down his face and anguish contouring his entire body. 'Now Black,' Snape hisses like the snake he is. 'Is most assuredly not a friend of Regulus, is he? And your mistress has told you he has been disowned, so he cannot be considered a family member or relative truly, can he?'
And then the house-elf goes mad, Sirius thinks, because their loathing has always been mutual and what else could cause it to throw itself at his feet? His cries are loud and hiccupping and revolting to look at, such that it takes Sirius a moment comprehend the barely comprehensible words pouring out of the elf as fast as its tears. 'Yes, yes, I cannot disobey Master Regulas but I can tell Master Sirius because Master Sirius will surely save Master Regulas and won't let him die the most horrible of deaths. Oh, my poor master, who drank the poison and wouldn't let me-'
'Better yet, take him there,' Rosier unceremoniously interrupts the elongated speech. Before Sirius can do anything other than repeat the oath he had uttered earlier, he is being dragged by foreign magic, house-elf pulling him on his right arm and Rosier grabbing his left at the last minute.
He doesn't realise he has arrived due to the total absence of light. He blinks and blinks and still, there is nothing he can see, but he suspects a magical reasoning behind it. There is most assuredly magic here, large quantities that cause the hair all over his body to rise, and there is something uncomfortable about it that assures him it is the sort of magic he despises.
'Such dark magic,' his cousin's voice drifts to him from his left. There's nothing more that thoughtfulness lining it and it irks Sirius badly but why should he expect a lousy Slytherin to feel disdain for the magic dearest to them, he thinks.
The light that appears in front of him startles him completely by its nonverbal nature. The wand is already in his hand and pointed forward when he recognises his cousin's silhouette, and his lack of awareness that Rosier had moved forward only unnerves him further. The light is faint and its reach meagre and Sirius is all the more certain that there is magic here that is hindering them. His instincts kick in and he turns in a careful, small circle, eyes analysing and memorising all the surroundings around him – whatever little he can make out from the faint yellow light emitted by Rosier's wand. The only trees stand at quite a distance, and they have Sirius pondering whether the dark magic herein was enough to inhibit life. It would be consistent with the deafening silence he can hear, even insects choosing to stay away. The stars are barely visible, the slice of moon just there, but it felt like observing them through a veil. The muffled sound of water could be heard but try as he might, Sirius couldn't perceive any bodies of water, still or otherwise. There was a wall of rock before him and everything suggested this was a cliff of sorts, but where, Sirius would be hard put to identify as he forced back a subtle shudder that had little to do with the nippy wind working its way through his damp clothes, the wet mist still hanging here despite the cessation of rain.
'Kreacher?' Rosier started forward, drawing Sirius' attention to the wretched house-elf, and peering closely, he could just make out liquid dripping down his hand – presumably blood. Sirius is entirely unsurprised to find a door consequently opening in the wall of rocks, though he did find it distasteful.
'Are you planning on providing some light?' Rosier's withering question once again startles Sirius, and rather than throwing a hex, he mutters lumos. It does little to illuminate the cave that's opened up, filling Sirius with foreboding but discarding it, he steps forward, his self preservation making sure that he remain behind the Death Eater.
The shadows creep closer together, the light more paltry as they enter the cave and it is definitely powerful magic at work. He focuses once more on the beings before him, the dark wizard he despises and the evil creature he resents (or is it the other way round?). Both are muttering under their breath and it is with considerable effort that he discerns the meaning from their incoherence. Kreacher, as expected, is muttering about his 'poor Master Regulus' and his lips thin further when he realises his evil cousin is muttering 'c'mon Reg' under his breath. Irrationally, he resents his cousin for feeling this way about his baby brother, of all people. Equally irrationally, he would have hated his dratted cousin even more if he hadn't.
'Where is he, Kreacher?' Rosier's voice sounds simultaneously loud and stifled in the ominous cave that surrounds them so completely. It takes more time than Sirius cares for to extract words from the sobs of that foul thing, but eventually, they manage to work out words such as 'water', 'poor Master Regulus' and 'too late'. The words leave Sirius feeling livid and sick. No. This is not how his little brother will end his life, if he has to resurrect the damn fool and wring his neck himself!
'Reg? Reggie? Reggie?' Rosier moves forward but when Sirius does the same, he turns around rapidly and, face to face, tells him in harsh tones to stay where he was. 'I'll need you to work out where the exit is and for the light. No sense in finding him only to be stuck here,' he bites out but Sirius feels only triumph as he sees the shudder he can't suppress. This superiority over the weaker man gives him enough satisfaction and peace to hang back, puzzling over why his light should be needed. The answer becomes obvious immediately and his lips curl back, ready to snarl that this would never work.
'Accio, Reg,' is boomed out and Rosier sounds demanding, more powerful that Sirius would have ever suspected. He's glad he hadn't uttered the scorn he felt when moments later he feels a disturbance in the water. Rosier has resorted to using his wand to focus his magic and the remaining light from his wand alone is too weak to see more than a couple of feet, but he feels the magic shifting. It takes longer before he can hear the water shifting and he refuses to think about how long his brother has been underwater. It won't help him any to think about it – once they have him safe and sound, and he's smacked some sense into the idiot, he'll worry about it but for right now, he tries to pierce the darkness with his eyes as best he can.
It is too long since the spell was uttered, and whilst the area thrums with fluctuating, changing magic, there is no sign of his brother. It is with supreme effort that Sirius maintains his stance, only the occasional sounds of exertion and grunting by Rosier reaching his ears preventing him from enacting violent retribution. At long last, eyes on maximum awareness, he detects a body elevating far too slowly from the depths of the water. Once free from it, he flies easily enough to Rosier, who has to step back to catch his brother. There's a struggle, unclear from his stance, a stumbling and fumbling that has his taking a couple of steps before Rosier's voice reaches him, strained from exertion and out of breath. 'For the sake of Morgana, apparate us out of here.'
Sirius acts promptly, the blatant panic energising him to swallow the questions that are waiting to trip from his lips. He tries once, twice, he even attempts a third time before he realises there must be anti-apparition jinxes in place. He states as much and is expecting Rosier's response telling him to hurry out of the cave rather than trying to break the dark magic that seems intermingled and beyond easy recognition. Before he can move to his brother's other side, the better (and faster) to carry him out, Rosier's harsh tone breaks the ominous silence. 'I'll carry him alone. You just get us out of here.' Debating for less than a second on the wisdom of arguing, Sirius stomps ahead instead, slow enough that he can light the way for that twit of a relative he hasn't acknowledged for the better part of the last decade. His light is considerably brighter outside the constraints of the cave, and he can feel his energy returning to its previous level. Before he can say anything, Kreacher grabs onto his brother with a sob and apparates with that damned Death Eater in tow, leaving Sirius stranded by his lonesome self.
The grating sound of the rock feature returning to its norm disturbs the air and after glaring at the rock, Sirius decides reluctantly to apparate back to the house of his miserable childhood. He blinks, surprised to find himself within the house, in fact, directly outside his old bedroom. There have been anti-apparition jinxes in place for centuries and whilst they were never particularly complex or glamorous, the fact that they are down rattle him, as he doubts that it was either of his parents' doing. That wizards such as Snape know this house so intimately is disturbing but he doesn't ponder it any longer, stepping into the room in time to hear Snape's furious 'You thrice damned fool,' and Rosier's anguished reply of 'Egad, it's too late. We're too late,' as he sinks into a chair bonelessly. The blood rushes too loudly in his ears and his eyes are unfocused, yet focus only on his brother, the body of his brother and a shudder overtakes his being.
There was a strong likeness in the facial physicality of all three cousins, strongest between Sirius and Regulus, who could have easily passed for twins. This marked similarity was common to all of the descendents of the Blacks; even the fairer cousins, Narcissa and Evan, had the same aristocratic features that seemed to belong to them.
The three cousins in the room all shared the proud foreheads, the aquiline hint in the noses, the pronounced cheekbones, the delicate lips and the imperial, stubborn chins. It was their personalities that had caused the differences in their expressions. Where Sirius Black had always been aloof, that distance responsible in a large part for the attraction he held to women, Evan had an expressive face; when he laughed, so did all those around him, and when he smiled, he was sharing a joke. When he was filled with despondency such as this, he infected the air, suffocating and smothering those around him such that even Severus, who had spent several years with him, couldn't help but become affected too. Severus' eyes had, however, remained trained on Reg – Reg who had been sneeringly called Reggie until Severus had saved his life before he had entered his teens. Out of all the Blacks he had come across, Reg had always had the blankest of faces, only his grey eyes hinting at his emotions. On the few occasions he had made eye contact, it hadn't been broken until he had willed it so, such intensity there was in his stares. Those very same eyes were closed, never to open again.
Without realising, Severus had staggered to the body of the kid he had come to think of as a brother, and without realising, his hands had reached out of their own accord, floating just shy of touching him. Even from that distance, he felt the dark magic radiating like toxic fumes. He ignored it, centring instead on the thin face that had become ever more gaunt since he had made his foolish decision.
He had hated them all, each and every one of them, for the majority of his school years, just as he had been despised by them. From being resented by his father for having magical abilities he could not help and despised by his mother (he could never quite work out why), to being universally hated by the rest of the school for belonging to Slytherin and reviled in Slytherin for not really belonging to them, his only alleviation had been Lily until a fateful afternoon he had found his main tormentor's little brother thrown into a lake. He'd watched out of impartial interest until he had realised the boy wasn't coming up. Despite purity of blood, awareness of magical abilities since birth and natural gifts therein, Severus had never accounted for the shock and trauma of the event, panic and the fact that Reg had been stupefied first. Despite not knowing this, Severus hadn't taken long to reach the lakeside, sending two meaningful curses at the girls, at least a couple of years senior to Regulus. He had then artfully discovered Regulus' location and drawn him to the water's edge. He hadn't been underwater long enough for him to be more than shocked and terrified but seeing the little boy like that had softened Severus' attitude towards him. Their friendship had been created when both Narcissa and Regulus had expressed gratitude, and solidified when they had identified the culprit behind the 'prank'.
And since then, little Reg (no longer sneeringly called Reggie) had looked up to Severus, inviting him into the very tight circle he had chosen as his own, and he had never quite stopped looking up to the older student. Severus had never attempted to dissuade Reg from doing that either, feeling like it was one-upmanship where Sirius was concerned. Maybe it had also been because he had felt that if Reg stopped looking up to him, maybe their friendship would cease too? And maybe if this friendship finished, the others would be finished with him too? The only time he had ever admitted to himself that the true reason he had never dissuaded Reg was that awful night when he had seen that little boy taking the blasted marking on his left forearm – Reg was his brother as much as blood could have ever made him, and had etched himself so thoroughly into his being that Severus could no longer imagine a Severus that was without a shy, thoughtful 'Sev', followed by too large eyes looking at him through the absurdly long and floppy hair covering the bulk of Reg's thin face.
And now Reg, with the power derived from intelligence that was borne from sheer interest, that had the unwavering loyalty few possessed and that could spend hours and days and weeks on one problem because he wanted to solve it – now that very Reg was dead and Severus had little idea of what to do because, in the least, he would have to ease the dark magic that encompassed his body. Reg wouldn't want that magic clinging to him and wouldn't want it attacking his body and it couldn't be comfortable for him at all, could it?
Magic. Severus had frowned, eyes suddenly sparking to life with focus and intent, sifting through the layers of magic that he could feel, threads of magic almost visible and palpable, easing around it without disrupting their flow. It had been faint, growing fainter by the seconds, but Severus had felt the magic and recognised it, not just that which had attached to Reg and was continuing to attack him; there were traces of Regulus' own magic that he could detect, Severus familiar with its individualities from his years with the younger boy. If traces of his magic remained, maybe...
He hadn't bothered with voicing his thoughts, opting for immediate action instead. He had brought his hands together and had started pressing on Reg's chest. How had it gone? What was the rate? It hadn't mattered – Penny had said that it hadn't mattered. All that had mattered was ensuring it worked and with that, Severus had put force and emotion and hope and will into each thump that he pressed on the sickeningly thin chest that refused to move by itself.
Thank You
Thank you to jgl8 for my review. It was treasured and definitely an incentive to write this chapter faster.
A huge thank you to jql78 and nightworldangel for adding this story to their favourites list,
A huge thank you to Ice Night, Kageriah, Miray666, MoneyNinja, QueenDromeda, , jql78, kunoichi, lilleil, nightworldangel and .shattered for following this story.
Author's Note: I have to say, I never expected such a positive response to this story. It definitely helped to create this chapter faster, although work and dismal political election results hindered it.
I hope you enjoy this chapter – it will be a character heavy story and whilst it has a definite end point with an explicit plot, it's equally about the characters. And out of curiosity, does anyone have actors or celebrities they picture in relation to characters? I now can't imagine anyone other than Tom Hiddleston as Regulus.
I hope you enjoy this chapter and please do review. I'd like to know what you liked and what you loathed and how I can improve!
