Disclaimer - I don't own Harry Potter. This is a sequel to one of my Open Novella 2021 projects, Upside Down Mirror: A Grim Tale, and one of my NaNoWriMo projects for this year.

Grimley Yet

"He's so thin."

A pair of silver-gray eyes stared out the window, leaning against the window pane as the young man watched the Muggles passing below. " How many people are going to comment on how thin I look? "

Life was a cacophony of thoughts and feelings that, like a jigsaw puzzle, was beginning to be put together. Yet, there was a feeling of unpleasantness rather than the challenge of putting a jigsaw puzzle together that the young wizard experienced the one time he'd gotten the chance to lay his fingers on the puzzle game at one of the Slug Club meetings without him knowing the game was of Muggle making and thus something maman wouldn't allow.

The first time—

The first time someone noted how thin he'd become because of his stay in Azkaban was when Regulus changed out of his prison garb into the clothing his father brought him. Still, something was unnerving about having to undress and dress in front of other people, with Regulus' brain telling him he should remain in there, in Azkaban, while another part remembered never liking how thin his small frame was in the first place. There was also the feeling of those watching seeing him as a child needing to be cared for.

It was confusing, blacking out at his trial because he fought the Veritaserum the ministry used on him, knowing Voldemort creating a Horcrux shouldn't be public knowledge, that something terrible would happen, might happen if that came to light And then he woke up hearing the Minister of Magic—Millicent Bagnold—say he carried a child 's guilt, while his grandfather—when he insisted on being sent back to Azkaban that, " You 're not going back there. Your trial verdict is not guilty. Do you understand what that means, Regulus? "

He didn't, simply because he was a Death Eater, yet felt as if he were being underestimated, even more so when one of those overseeing him changing into regular clothes—which was undoubtedly strange in itself—commented on his thinness, as if he were some poor creature to be pitied.

Regulus was not someone to be pitied, having years ago seen a Grim—seen it multiple times and knew he was destined to die young. He was now back at Grimmauld Place, very much alive, although not well, but had become even more of a shadow than he was that night he left, completely believing he'd die in a cave, forgotten and forgotten and unmourned, very much feeling that was what he deserved.

Then, " Please don 't be mad. Kreacher found a loophole. "

And through that loophole, Regulus managed to circumvent his fate with the Grim,

Through that loophole, Regulus managed to circumvent his fate with the Grim, or his fate with Sirius, who, in his madness, claimed to be the Grim both before and after he'd betrayed the Potters, something Regulus never thought would happen. Even more insane was the reason Sirius gave, " I don 't want to see you ever again, but as I already said, I went after the Potters to make you feel like crap. That's it, Reggie. I hate you that much. "

"Don't worry, Lucretia," someone else in the room said. "We'll get some meat on those bones. We'll make up for those years he was falsely imprisoned in Azkaban."

"I wasn't falsely imprisoned," Regulus said to nobody in particular, not really knowing who'd spoken beyond the second person identifying the first as his Aunt Lucretia. He turned around from where he sat on the windowsill, pulling up his sleeve and showing everyone in the room the Dark Mark, or what was left of it, given Voldemort's temporary defeat. "And I should still be there."

"Well, he's alive, I see." The person speaking was his uncle Cygnus, his mouth twisted into a frown, obviously unimpressed. They—the Black family, had gathered in the drawing room, waiting for his return with his father and grandfather from Azkaban, from him hearing Sirius tell him the reason he'd betrayed the Potters.

Yet, at the time, he'd not looked them in the eye, feeling as he did about the verdict of not guilty from the Ministry of Magic. He swallowed, lowering his arm, noting only the absence of Narcissa. He ate, looking at the ground as his right hand gripped his arm before saying rather timidly, "Hi."

"Hi?" his Aunt Cassiopeia asked. "That was rather meek, wasn't it?" It clicked at that moment. She'd told his Aunt Lucretia they could get meat on his bones, but everyone was staring at his thin frame.

"Hasn't Regulus always been on the small side, though?" Aunt Druella asked while Regulus pictured her sitting there with her nose and chin lifted slightly so she could look down at him.

"Not this small," Lucretia replied. Regulus winced when he heard her stand up, her skirts swishing around her feet as she came towards him. His eyes closed, his ears picking up the sound of her pulling a chair closer to the windowsill he sat on. "Regulus?"

He shook his head, pressing his lips together. His fingers tightened around his arm, feeling lightheaded. He repeated what he had said before. "I should still be there."

"What is wrong with you, boy?" asked his other grandfather.

Regulus swallowed, keeping his eyes closed. "I am not a child. I'm not."

"Regulus!" his mother said. "That's not how you speak to your grandfather!"

"I'm not a child," Regulus insisted, his head feeling strange from no longer feeling the Dementor's draining him of his happy feelings, although there weren't any springing to mind as his mother—

"Regulus Arcturus…"

"Walburga! That's enough!"

Regulus' eyes opened, his head tilting up slightly so he could discern who spoke, a shudder running down his spine as he saw his grandmother glaring at his mother, a sight he'd never thought he'd ever see. He felt Lucretia gently take his hand in hers, making him tense up at the touch—a touch he'd not felt in forever, which in turn made him feel like throwing up, yet he held it back, not wanting to upset her, let alone throw up on her.

"We know you're not a child," Aunt Lucretia said. "But we are worried. You don't look well."

"I don't feel well," Regulus said. And then he realized he'd said that in front of the entire family, showing a sign of weakness, something a Black never did. He swallowed, closing his eyes. "I didn't mean that."

"Oh, you meant it," his grandmother said, making him feel even more ill; for a while, Irma Black rarely spoke, leaving the matriarchal duties to Walburga; the times she did speak were times something highly displeased her.

"I'm sorry," Regulus felt his entire body tremble.

"Sorry for what?" Irma asked. "Nobody expects you to feel alright, having spent so much time around Dementors. Nobody who isn't an utter fool, that is."

Regulus swallowed as Lucretia squeezed his hand, wanting to scream at the family, telling them to go away and leave him alone. As his head spun, he did not use the lack of Dementor's presence.

"Seriously, Walburga. Inviting us over this soon? I should have talked Pollux out of this. I would have had him tell Cygnus not to come. At least Narcissa had the sense not to come."

Regulus swallowed, keeping his eyes closed, wondering if there were another reason she'd not come, given Lucius' alliance, but Cygnus sighed. "Narcissa has a little one at home, mother. I'm sure that's the reason she didn't come."

"So you're telling me everyone in the family are bloody fools?"

The hand holding his squeezed tighter, but from across the room, he heard someone clear their voice at what his grandmother said.

"Oh. Sorry, Ignatius. You and your wife do have more reason to be here than us," which made absolutely no sense to Regulus.

"Can I just go to bed?" Regulus asked, wanting to get away.

"Yes, dear," his grandmother responded, suddenly making Regulus unsure whether he was allowed to leave the room.

"Regulus, you can go to bed," his father said.

Regulus opened his eyes, looking at his father while his uncle Cygnus had that look on his face. "Whatever is wrong with him?"

Orion frowned, closing his eyes, before walking over and holding out his hand. "Come. I'll go with you if that makes you feel you're allowed to go to bed."

Regulus frowned yet stood up, feeling slightly wobbly on his feet before heading out of the drawing room, his ears picking up his grandmother lecturing his mother about inviting them over as she did. The stairs creaked as he walked up the stairs, his father coming up behind him. When he arrived at the door to his room, Regulus wanted to open his mouth, to say he'd be fine going in there on his own, yet he said nothing.

Nor did he think anything of entering his bedroom, even though the place no longer felt like home—not since Kreacher pulled him from the lake.

It was a mistake, he realized, the moment his body decided to react in a way he'd not expected.