Disclaimer: I don't own Regulus Black or any other Characters in this story.
I decided to do Challenge 1
-In The End -
People say it's hard to be the hero, making decisions between right and wrong. I guess it wouldn't be. But deciding between hero and villain, that's tough. I loved my family and they loved me but I'm not sure which way to go. I've been thinking about this for a while now, should I have joined the Order?
Currently I'm sitting at a table by a window in the Three Broomsticks. It's late autumn and you can see the trees in their full magnificence. They fall to the ground and touch puddles on the muddy ground softly and the ripples splash through it breaking the perfect image of the world.
The leaves from the trees are not unlike people; they start off small, then grow and are rich and full of life. Then, they're in their prime for all to see. That of course, like all things fades, and they become old, and crinkled and then die suddenly in the first frost.
I could compare this even more, to a recent incident that has impacted me as well as both sides of the war. One life ends, hits the surface of the cold water and then the ripples appear, the chaotic ripples destroying the perfect and yet upside down image.
I experienced this happening, long after people thought I was dead. Dumbledore has died and all hell has broken loose. I remember him saying he was proud that my brother got into Griffindor. Secretly I was too. I loved Sirius, though I didn't show it. If I did my mother and father would look down on me. I, being so pathetic as I was then, needed them and their never wavering support for their favourite son. Sirius was always left behind.
Even in life he was left behind outside our family. He was of course, put in Azkaban and wasted away for years while I, the only Black brother to become a real criminal ran free.
But then again, I was dead. Well, at least to the public eye, and even Sirius himself I was. I couldn't do the Death Eater thing, I wasn't cut out for it. Voldemort knew it, and I knew he would kill me. So, secretly meeting with Dumbledore it was arranged that I would disappear. Voldemort would think that Snape, whom I discovered was a double agent, killed me while I, Regulus Black, would re-locate to the Muggle World. It was hard at first, knowing that I would never be able to use magic in my new home. Voldemort could trace my wand and find me.
The years went on by and soon Sirius escaped. During that time I had my own quiet celebration in my little home in South London. I prayed and prayed that the dementors wouldn't get him, sucking his soul away to spend and eternity in oblivion. He evaded them, and yet a curtain killed him. Sirius always hated drapes, I remember a time when he was fourteen and I was twelve…
"Sirius, mom's gonna get mad if you don't get her broach back from behind the dresser!" I snitched like the pathetic child I was. Sirius of course looked at me with an expression of up most disgust.
"That elephant skinned twat can get it herself!" he said snidely. I smirked at him.
"You want to repeat that? I think I hear her coming." I replied with an acid tongue. Sirius sighed.
"Fine!" he said. He got up from where he'd been sitting on the green velvet couch and went over to the dresser. He pulled the heavy wooden thing away and started feeling around for the broach. I decided to have some fun with him. Casting a spell on the curtains it enveloped Sirius and he let out a cry of surprise. I watched him writhe and thrash about until he came out of the curtains with the broach. He then chose to slam it down of the coffee table and throw a lamp at me. After ducking I watched him go running out of the room with his hands in the air. I still find it somewhat amusing today. But I doubt he ever did.
We were an odd couple, my brother and I. At home we shared a room, his was messy, mine was neat. I've been told stories that he was a total neat freak at Hogwarts. I'm guessing that that was just to piss mom off. It worked. He was beaten regularly and I was always assured that I was a much better son than he was. I really feel sorry for Sirius now. But I always seemed to hate him with a passion back then.
It's odd what you come to realize when you grow up. I remember thinking that my mother was the most beautiful woman in the world. Now I look at her picture, her beauty was never there. I thought that Sirius was just stupid as a child, but now I see that he was brilliant. This man escaped Azkaban. He was the first one to do it too. Truly brilliant.
I mused this all over a coffee. You see, I was waiting for someone that day in the Three Broomsticks. A certain someone that would take me to finally see Sirius's grave. I looked up from staring into the brown depths of my coffee when I saw someone sit in front of me. His hair was light brown, streaked with grey, he had a light moustache and a bit of a goatee growing from his chin. He was wearing a brown overcoat with fur lining that was patched in a few places as well. Looking up into his yellow feral eyes I gave a small smile. It was Remus Lupin, my brother's best friend.
"You ready?" He asked me with the gentle smile that the werewolf seemed to be famous for. I nodded and got up paying my bill.
Remus led me out of the Three Broomsticks and into the street. He looked at me. "We're apparating to muggle country where my car is." He said quietly. He grabbed my wrist and we both disappeared. We reappeared in front of an old station wagon. Getting in we started driving down the rainy street of the English countryside. I took this time to fully appreciate what my driver was like.
His scent was a rugged musk. One which filled my mind with thoughts of a gasoline puddle on a road in the night, filled with the memories of being sloshed over by thousands of cars and each individual person within them, seasoning it, making it guarded and yet so approachable.
Remus looked over at me. "Sirius wanted to be buried in Muggle country, or at least a monument." He said with a small smile.
I laughed. "Just to piss mom off."
"Oh yes Regulus, just to piss your mother off." He said with laughter in his voice. I could see why my brother liked Remus so much. He was just so pleasant to have around. And to think, I used to think him a dirty half-breed. We came to a halt outside a forest. Remus got out of the car and shivered pulling his coat closer around him. I soon felt the chiil.
"Brr." I said quietly. Remus motioned for me to follow him. He led me down a path through the woods to a tombstone, with a dog statue atop it. It read:
Sirius BlackBeloved Brother of Two.
1960-1995
I cocked an eyebrow. I stared at that tombstone. Brother of two? No. It was understandable however, Sirius thought I hated him. And I used to, but now I realize I was just being dumb. I had been a spoiled brat who hated his brother because the girls liked him more, because he was smarter, because he was more adventurous, because mom and dad hated him. I knelt down at the tombstone and shed a tear for my fallen brother, I who had been the rain on his sunny day, the festered zit on date night, the cold apocalypse over his flourishing world, I wept for him. Because he was my brother, and I loved him so much. I took out my wand and muttered a few words at the tombstone. Which now read:
Sirius BlackBeloved Brother of Three
1960-1995
And on the ground below us it read on a separate plaque in the dirt:
I'm sorry.
As the November snow started to fall I stared down at it as Remus put his hand on my shoulder. A wry smile graced my weeping face then that day, because I found it rather ironic, that winter would come when Sirius died. Our hatred had died like the leaves on the trees.
"This makes me very happy." I whispered.
"He's happy too Regulus, I'm sure of it."
Written By Brainfart for the Harry Potter Subforum fanfic challenge.