46. Dark Marks

It had been nearly two hours; Sirius and Regulus were in the bedroom in total silence. They were still wearing the elegant black clothes in which they had gone to the cinema - which seemed to have happened a thousand years ago.
Near the door was a polished dark wooden desk, where Sirius was writing an endless letter.(He was writing angrily and often crossed out whole sentences, sometimes pressing so hard on the paper with his quill that he tore the paper and broke the tip of the quill. Then he threw the quill to the floor and took another from the desk drawer. He wrote continuously filling one parchment after another; and took notice of nothing else around him. He stared at his parchment as he wrote like a machine with its only function being to write. He seemed to be beside himself, bending over the paper, breathing noisily. From time to time, he punched on the table with his already swelled and red left fist. The pain in his fist was nothing compared to his heart aching.

Meanwhile, seemingly oblivious to all that his brother was doing, Regulus sat barefoot on his bed, his back against the headboard, embracing his legs. He stared mesmerized at the window. The Dark Mark was losing its glow, but it was still an impressive contrast with the black sky. He couldn't help but think about the accusation which Bellatrix had made against his father. Regulus knew his father had lied, he knew that his grandfather had helped to hide such a book, and that his father had erased the Leloush couple's memories to protect them. "Bella could be right," he thought. From all his cousins, Bellatrix had always been Regulus's favourite. She was funny, smart, powerful and beautiful. Narcissa and Andromeda were beautiful too, but Narcissa was not at all funny and she did not care about Sirius and Regulus – whom she called "the nasty baby boys" - and Andromeda was… well… Andromeda was not family anymore He snorted.

Thinking about his family and their problems upset him. Regulus got up and went to the window. Outside all was still and quiet - at least in the backyard of his grandparent's house. On the other side of the fence there were some Ministry wizards examining the house. "Fools," he thought. They would not find anything there. Everything that had to be found was in the sky: the Dark Mark. The beautiful green snake continued to go in and out of the impressive skull without tiring. The skull's hollow eyes seemed to look at him, calling him. Each inspiration, every time his lungs were filled with air, it was as if his chest were protruding itself toward the shiny sign in the sky. "What if Bellatrix is right? And what if Mum is right?" He swallowed. (His curiosity poked him: who would have conjured the Dark Mark; Bellatrix, or maybe Lord Voldemort in person?" His cousin had said that he had been there. Would he still be there? His heart was racing; a mixture of excitement and fear encompassed every thought. He swallowed once again. He turned away from the window and looked around the bedroom. The Dark Mark had printed on his retina, its contour, in magenta. He blinked several times, unsure if he really wanted the image to go away.

SNAP!

He turned to Sirius who was throwing another broken quill to the floor, before beginning to write compulsively again. Surely, he was writing to Simone. Regulus felt sorry for his brother, "Why did he have to fall in love with the wrong girl?" He couldn't blame Sirius, they could not have known who Madame Leloush was ... Or could they have; since his mother had asked several times if it was healthy for the boys keeping friendship with half-blood girls. His father had answered that he saw no problem whatsoever, but his father could be wrong, couldn't he? Anyway, he felt sorry for his brother. Then he approached him, putting his hand on Sirius's shoulder. Sirius shook his shoulder to avoid his brother's touch. Regulus drew back his hand and looked at the parchment. It was all strike-through, blurred and punctured, probably because of broken quills and some tears. Regulus's heart twisted in his chest, he didn't like to see his brother suffering. Sirius's handwriting never had been what could be called an elegant calligraphy, but this time he could barely read it. Still standing behind his brother, Regulus tried to read few words:

"asjdbk to see dfgusthsf gkjdfnl my own fnmlby kzjfbdikb dflvkdf is hateful. I feel ashamed in being part of this family. My father was the one who seemed to care about, but I don't know to which extent he helped Leloush only to rid himself from any accusation. I can't stand anymore, James."

James? JAMES? So the letter was not to Simone!? Regulus felt anger. It was inevitable. James was snatching his brother away from him. He snorted.

'Don't you know it's ugly to read the other's letter, Reg?' Asked Sirius, without turning around. He didn't seem angry now, just sad.

'Sorry, Sir ... I assure you, I couldn't read a single word. Your handwriting is horrible.' Regulus smiled sadly.

Sirius turned to face him. His face was dirty with paths of black where he had rubbed away the tears with his inky fingertips. His eyes were swollen and overflowing with sadness.

'Why don't you erase these blots with magic? Here at Grandpa's, we have never had any trouble using magic.' Regulus asked, pointing to a particularly large paragraph that was defaced with black blots.

'With so many witches and wizards from the Ministry working at the girls' house; it would be very difficult to explain that it wasn't me casting the spell... I don't want to be expelled from Hogwarts.' Sirius replied, raising his eyebrows.

'When Lord Voldemort gains the Ministry we won't have to worry about that.' What am I saying? Regulus asked himself in thought, but it was too late for regretting his statement, he lowered his eyes.

'What?' Sirius yelled at his brother, punching on the table and standing up angrily, his face showing his fury and indignation. 'How dare you speak such a thing after all that happened today?'

'Sir, we can't judge what happened ...' Regulus replied, shaking his arms semi-flexed with palms facing up, as if begging for his brother to be rational.
Sirius went toward Regulus - who hadn't moved - and gripped his younger brother's forearms tightly and looked deep into his eyes:

'Stop acting like an idiot, Regulus! Pay attention to what you are saying! The girls' father is dead! DEAD!'

'But, Sir, what if ...'

'Do me a favour, Reg, you troll-head. Don't talk to me anymore.'

Saying this, Sirius dropped his brother's arms and went out of the room slamming the door. Regulus stared at the closed door and snorted, shrugging his shoulders. His arms ached where Sirius had gripped them so tightly. He rubbed them to lighten his pain and noticed that Sirius's fingers had smeared some black ink on the insides of his forearms. On his right arm, there was an oval mark made by Sirius's thumbprint, which resembled a skull. Regulus looked intently at the mark, feeling sad and confused. Then he looked at the parchment on which James's name seemed to stand out. He lowered his head, turned, and walked to the window. The Dark Mark had dissipated. In its place, a deathly emptiness. Then he dropped himself on his bed, curled into a fetal position and fell asleep, squeezing his wet eyes shut.