Regulus Black stood into the foyer of #12 Grimmauld place,
absentmindedly toying with a knut in his left hand. In his right, he
clutched the letter that had brought him back home. It had been brief, and
written out hastily in his mother's fine spindly script.
"Regulus- Come home now. –Mother" Was all it had said. He scanned it again with his coal black eyes, as though searching for some hidden meaning. He could not think of what would have induced his mother to call him home from his friend's house, where he had been staying, in the middle of the summer. He wasn't in school so there could not be any grades to fight over, he hadn't done anything terribly wrong, in fact, he had been perfectly behaved. Possibly a relative had died? But no- there were no black hangings on the wall, and the note would have said something. But then what was it? Crumpling the parchment in his hand, he shoved it into his pocket, and took a few steps forward into the mighty house of Black.
"Master has returned!" Said a low, yet somehow light voice, breaking the ominous silence.
"Kreacher?" Regulus said uncertainty.
"Ah yes... Kreacher it is, Scylla is waiting for her good son in her bedroom..."
Not waiting to hear more from the house elf, Regulus brushed passed Kreacher, and fairly ran up the staircase towards his mother's room, passing the decapitated house elves.
He paused outside her door to catch his breath and adjust his clothing and hair. He supposed he looked presentable enough. His black hair was slightly out of place from his journey, but the note had been urgent and he hoped his mother would understand if he was a bit disheveled. Warily, he pushed open the door and strode into the room.
He raised his eyebrows at the scene that greeted him. Heavy curtains had been drawn up over the windows, and the room was so filthy that he could not help but step on half eaten plates of food, smashed picture frames, dirty clothes, and ripped up pieces of parchment. Scylla was sprawled across her large canopy bed, wearing a filthy pink bathrobe. Her graying black hair hung about her shoulders in greasy, tangled strands, and her make-up was blotched. Her smell was repugnant, and it was hard to resist the urge to clamp his nose shut.
"Regulus... you are here," She said in a weak voice.
He had never heard that tone before. Always she was proud and powerful- the image of cold perfection. But now... "Mother, what is wrong? Why did you call me home? Are you alright?" He asked in one breath.
"Come here," Scylla commanded her son. She held her dainty hand out to him, and he clasped it in his own warm fingers. She drew him towards her, and Regulus knelt by her bed, trying not to retch at the ghastly smell.
"What is wrong?" He repeated. He didn't know whether to be concerned or disgusted at her.
"It's... your brother..."
"Sirius?"
"Don't say his name!" She shrieked. "Filthy mudblood lover! Oh why was I cursed with such a so? A disgrace to The House of Black!" She paused, and brushed a stray strand of hair out of her pale, pale face.
Regulus stared, "What has he done?"
"Run away," Scylla choked. "Said he'd had enough of us! Oh the ungrateful boy. Shaming our family!" Great, ugly sobs poured out of her, and Regulus forced himself to pat her head.
"Mother, I'm sure it was just his temper acting for him... you know how riled up he can get..." But Regulus mind was spinning. Sirius, his older brother had actually had the guts to run away? It was impossible! He had always talked about it, but Regulus never believed that he would actually do it.
"No," cried, "You should have seen him! Then you would know... Why was I cursed with such a son?" She wailed. "And he went to the blood traitors! Those Potters!" She spat out the name as though it were a curse.
"Mother, you still have me," Regulus said quietly.
"Yes, you area my good son. My only son," She whispered. She stroked his hair. "How good you were to come away from your little vacation!"
Regulus sighed; he hadn't been given much choice, "Well, I suppose I'll stay as long as you need me."
"So good... you would have made your father proud..." Already the hysteria was waning, and drifting away as she beheld him.
"Mother, it's time to get over... him." Regulus stood up and yanked the draperies off the windows, allowing the sunlight to pour in.
Scylla blinked, as though unused to the light.
"Get dressed mother, I'll send Kreacher up to you," Regulus said. "I shall be in my room if you need me." And as soon as she assented, he fairly raced out of her room, signaled Kreacher, and then locked himself in his own room. His mind was an incomprehensible blur of thoughts and emotions, and he needed time to sort them out. Why? Was the foremost question in his mind. Ever since Sirius had met James, Remus, and Peter, he had been filled with soft sentiments towards mudbloods, and he had come to despair of his own family. Scylla was right- Sirius was ungrateful- for turning his back on his family of the sack of friends. And to run away was such a drastic action! And to a friend that was not a pureblood... such a slight was obviously intended for his mother.
Always, Regulus had looked up to his older brother. Sirius had possessed the traditional "Black look"... the elegant and handsome features, coal black hair and eyes, healthy complexion... And his manner, which drew people to him. He was exciting! Full of daring ideas and new things to try... But, Regulus told himself; it was those very qualities that had led him astray. And now his mother was sunk in melancholy, and he was the heir to the Black fortune. Such responsibility now weighed upon his shoulders.
"Master?" Kreacher asked out of nowhere.
Regulus started and turned towards the door.
"What is it now?" He asked irritably "... have you seen to my mother?"
"Yes, so I did. I brought you some tea master," The house elf said, presenting the tray.
Regulus took it from the outstretched long-fingered hands, "So, how's she doing?" He asked quietly.
The smile immediately fell from Kreacher's face, "Better, I think, but that stupid, stupid mudblood lover that Sirius is! Breaking his poor mother's heart!"
"Stupid mudblood lover..." repeated. Sirius had spoken of running away often. But Regulus had always considered the hushed whisperings the imaginings of a 15-year-old boy. He had laughed when Sirius suggested to him that he to should come away. Immediately, his thoughts drifted back to a conversation that seemed to have taken place so long ago...
"Regulus, why do you live your life with such blind acceptance?"
"Sirius... what makes you think that your right and mum is wrong?"
"Because I've met them! I've made good friends with the 'mudbloods' and 'blood traitors' as you and mum still call them, and they're not these evil things we've been led to believe. They just don't have a perfect wizard lineage."
"Sirius, it's not that they're evil, it's just that well, they're not as well... good as we are. We have a family full of purebloods to be proud of!"
"Regulus, we are not 'better' than them, Mum only thinks so as she's so wrapped up in her own delusions of grandeur, and you believe her!"
"Well, if you're so smart, exactly what do you plan to do about it all?"
"Run away... get into the real world I suppose full of normal people."
"Sirius, we're entirely normal! Just... above the average."
"You know, Regulus... I wouldn't be surprised if you grew up to be like he-who-must-not-be-named."
"Better that than consorting with mudbloods!"
"Slimy git! Think for yourself once in awhile!"
"Are you alright master?"
Regulus shook his head and pushed himself away from these memories, "Yes," he snapped. "Drifted off there for a second."
"Scylla says she will take dinner with you this evening," Kreacher said, bowing.
Regulus sighed; fun event that would be. He knew already that the topic of their conversation would be Sirius. And he would have to listen and keep up a good face; he was the only son now after all. He could not let her down.
When he finally came down to the dining room, he was surprised to see how rapidly Scylla had recovered. Her hair was done up in a tight bun, her make-up was perfectly applied, as usual, and the pink bathrobe was replace with severe black velvet robes.
"Good evening, Regulus," She said. She gestured at him to sit across from her at the table that could seat twenty quite comfortably.
"Evening mother," he replied. He hated the dining room. It was so large and filled with portraits of his dead ancestors. Everything in it had some significance to the Black family, down to the last teaspoon.
Scylla surveyed her 14-year-old son critically. He was definitely not as handsome as his elder brother, nor as intelligent. But, she consoled herself, he was definitely a follower- he took ideas in without question. He would be a perfect son.
"Feeling better I see," Regulus said genially.
"Oh yes... now that I have you here," Scylla said with a smile.
Regulus gave his mother a small smile... she was his only family now that Sirius had turned his back on them. She could be quite frightening and erratic times, but so everybody had their faults. He looked upon her with a heightened resolve to make her proud.
"We shall speak of him no further. He loves them, and is no more worthy of our conversation than Kreacher."
"Yes mother," he responded.
"So how was Oren's house?" She asked genially, "I'm sorry I had to disrupt your vacation. But I needed you."
"Oh don't worry about it mother... Oren and I will see each other at Hogwarts soon enough anyway," Regulus responded. It was amazing how Sirius's desertion had affected him so soon. He supposed Sirius would have intended it, among other reasons, to show his brother how far his mother's false convictions would force him to go. But the only thing it really achieved was to push Regulus closer to his mother. She would be the rock he needed so desperately to depend on.
The rest of the dinner passed with few words, until the end, when Regulus rose to leave.
"Stay one more moment," Scylla said, clutching the sleeve of her son's robe.
"What is it?" He asked.
"You must promise me something," She said, forcing him to look her in the eye.
"Anything," he replied, apprehension threading it's way about him.
"Promise me you will always be my son, and a son worthy of The House of Black. Do not nurse thoughts of rebellion in your heart against the purebloods or me. Be the son that he was not." Her eyes were boring into him; dissecting him.
"Mother, I promise you," He replied with more sincerity than he had known he had possessed.
"Regulus- Come home now. –Mother" Was all it had said. He scanned it again with his coal black eyes, as though searching for some hidden meaning. He could not think of what would have induced his mother to call him home from his friend's house, where he had been staying, in the middle of the summer. He wasn't in school so there could not be any grades to fight over, he hadn't done anything terribly wrong, in fact, he had been perfectly behaved. Possibly a relative had died? But no- there were no black hangings on the wall, and the note would have said something. But then what was it? Crumpling the parchment in his hand, he shoved it into his pocket, and took a few steps forward into the mighty house of Black.
"Master has returned!" Said a low, yet somehow light voice, breaking the ominous silence.
"Kreacher?" Regulus said uncertainty.
"Ah yes... Kreacher it is, Scylla is waiting for her good son in her bedroom..."
Not waiting to hear more from the house elf, Regulus brushed passed Kreacher, and fairly ran up the staircase towards his mother's room, passing the decapitated house elves.
He paused outside her door to catch his breath and adjust his clothing and hair. He supposed he looked presentable enough. His black hair was slightly out of place from his journey, but the note had been urgent and he hoped his mother would understand if he was a bit disheveled. Warily, he pushed open the door and strode into the room.
He raised his eyebrows at the scene that greeted him. Heavy curtains had been drawn up over the windows, and the room was so filthy that he could not help but step on half eaten plates of food, smashed picture frames, dirty clothes, and ripped up pieces of parchment. Scylla was sprawled across her large canopy bed, wearing a filthy pink bathrobe. Her graying black hair hung about her shoulders in greasy, tangled strands, and her make-up was blotched. Her smell was repugnant, and it was hard to resist the urge to clamp his nose shut.
"Regulus... you are here," She said in a weak voice.
He had never heard that tone before. Always she was proud and powerful- the image of cold perfection. But now... "Mother, what is wrong? Why did you call me home? Are you alright?" He asked in one breath.
"Come here," Scylla commanded her son. She held her dainty hand out to him, and he clasped it in his own warm fingers. She drew him towards her, and Regulus knelt by her bed, trying not to retch at the ghastly smell.
"What is wrong?" He repeated. He didn't know whether to be concerned or disgusted at her.
"It's... your brother..."
"Sirius?"
"Don't say his name!" She shrieked. "Filthy mudblood lover! Oh why was I cursed with such a so? A disgrace to The House of Black!" She paused, and brushed a stray strand of hair out of her pale, pale face.
Regulus stared, "What has he done?"
"Run away," Scylla choked. "Said he'd had enough of us! Oh the ungrateful boy. Shaming our family!" Great, ugly sobs poured out of her, and Regulus forced himself to pat her head.
"Mother, I'm sure it was just his temper acting for him... you know how riled up he can get..." But Regulus mind was spinning. Sirius, his older brother had actually had the guts to run away? It was impossible! He had always talked about it, but Regulus never believed that he would actually do it.
"No," cried, "You should have seen him! Then you would know... Why was I cursed with such a son?" She wailed. "And he went to the blood traitors! Those Potters!" She spat out the name as though it were a curse.
"Mother, you still have me," Regulus said quietly.
"Yes, you area my good son. My only son," She whispered. She stroked his hair. "How good you were to come away from your little vacation!"
Regulus sighed; he hadn't been given much choice, "Well, I suppose I'll stay as long as you need me."
"So good... you would have made your father proud..." Already the hysteria was waning, and drifting away as she beheld him.
"Mother, it's time to get over... him." Regulus stood up and yanked the draperies off the windows, allowing the sunlight to pour in.
Scylla blinked, as though unused to the light.
"Get dressed mother, I'll send Kreacher up to you," Regulus said. "I shall be in my room if you need me." And as soon as she assented, he fairly raced out of her room, signaled Kreacher, and then locked himself in his own room. His mind was an incomprehensible blur of thoughts and emotions, and he needed time to sort them out. Why? Was the foremost question in his mind. Ever since Sirius had met James, Remus, and Peter, he had been filled with soft sentiments towards mudbloods, and he had come to despair of his own family. Scylla was right- Sirius was ungrateful- for turning his back on his family of the sack of friends. And to run away was such a drastic action! And to a friend that was not a pureblood... such a slight was obviously intended for his mother.
Always, Regulus had looked up to his older brother. Sirius had possessed the traditional "Black look"... the elegant and handsome features, coal black hair and eyes, healthy complexion... And his manner, which drew people to him. He was exciting! Full of daring ideas and new things to try... But, Regulus told himself; it was those very qualities that had led him astray. And now his mother was sunk in melancholy, and he was the heir to the Black fortune. Such responsibility now weighed upon his shoulders.
"Master?" Kreacher asked out of nowhere.
Regulus started and turned towards the door.
"What is it now?" He asked irritably "... have you seen to my mother?"
"Yes, so I did. I brought you some tea master," The house elf said, presenting the tray.
Regulus took it from the outstretched long-fingered hands, "So, how's she doing?" He asked quietly.
The smile immediately fell from Kreacher's face, "Better, I think, but that stupid, stupid mudblood lover that Sirius is! Breaking his poor mother's heart!"
"Stupid mudblood lover..." repeated. Sirius had spoken of running away often. But Regulus had always considered the hushed whisperings the imaginings of a 15-year-old boy. He had laughed when Sirius suggested to him that he to should come away. Immediately, his thoughts drifted back to a conversation that seemed to have taken place so long ago...
"Regulus, why do you live your life with such blind acceptance?"
"Sirius... what makes you think that your right and mum is wrong?"
"Because I've met them! I've made good friends with the 'mudbloods' and 'blood traitors' as you and mum still call them, and they're not these evil things we've been led to believe. They just don't have a perfect wizard lineage."
"Sirius, it's not that they're evil, it's just that well, they're not as well... good as we are. We have a family full of purebloods to be proud of!"
"Regulus, we are not 'better' than them, Mum only thinks so as she's so wrapped up in her own delusions of grandeur, and you believe her!"
"Well, if you're so smart, exactly what do you plan to do about it all?"
"Run away... get into the real world I suppose full of normal people."
"Sirius, we're entirely normal! Just... above the average."
"You know, Regulus... I wouldn't be surprised if you grew up to be like he-who-must-not-be-named."
"Better that than consorting with mudbloods!"
"Slimy git! Think for yourself once in awhile!"
"Are you alright master?"
Regulus shook his head and pushed himself away from these memories, "Yes," he snapped. "Drifted off there for a second."
"Scylla says she will take dinner with you this evening," Kreacher said, bowing.
Regulus sighed; fun event that would be. He knew already that the topic of their conversation would be Sirius. And he would have to listen and keep up a good face; he was the only son now after all. He could not let her down.
When he finally came down to the dining room, he was surprised to see how rapidly Scylla had recovered. Her hair was done up in a tight bun, her make-up was perfectly applied, as usual, and the pink bathrobe was replace with severe black velvet robes.
"Good evening, Regulus," She said. She gestured at him to sit across from her at the table that could seat twenty quite comfortably.
"Evening mother," he replied. He hated the dining room. It was so large and filled with portraits of his dead ancestors. Everything in it had some significance to the Black family, down to the last teaspoon.
Scylla surveyed her 14-year-old son critically. He was definitely not as handsome as his elder brother, nor as intelligent. But, she consoled herself, he was definitely a follower- he took ideas in without question. He would be a perfect son.
"Feeling better I see," Regulus said genially.
"Oh yes... now that I have you here," Scylla said with a smile.
Regulus gave his mother a small smile... she was his only family now that Sirius had turned his back on them. She could be quite frightening and erratic times, but so everybody had their faults. He looked upon her with a heightened resolve to make her proud.
"We shall speak of him no further. He loves them, and is no more worthy of our conversation than Kreacher."
"Yes mother," he responded.
"So how was Oren's house?" She asked genially, "I'm sorry I had to disrupt your vacation. But I needed you."
"Oh don't worry about it mother... Oren and I will see each other at Hogwarts soon enough anyway," Regulus responded. It was amazing how Sirius's desertion had affected him so soon. He supposed Sirius would have intended it, among other reasons, to show his brother how far his mother's false convictions would force him to go. But the only thing it really achieved was to push Regulus closer to his mother. She would be the rock he needed so desperately to depend on.
The rest of the dinner passed with few words, until the end, when Regulus rose to leave.
"Stay one more moment," Scylla said, clutching the sleeve of her son's robe.
"What is it?" He asked.
"You must promise me something," She said, forcing him to look her in the eye.
"Anything," he replied, apprehension threading it's way about him.
"Promise me you will always be my son, and a son worthy of The House of Black. Do not nurse thoughts of rebellion in your heart against the purebloods or me. Be the son that he was not." Her eyes were boring into him; dissecting him.
"Mother, I promise you," He replied with more sincerity than he had known he had possessed.
