And I'm back! Less than two weeks after the last chapter, with 20 (twenty!) pages. I hope you're happy. I know I'm happy^^.


After the end of Regulus' fourth year, when Bellatrix asked what he'd decided to do about Sirius, he was ready.

He'd spent the school year ignoring his brother and the tosser, strikingly, had ignored him back. It stung, but if Sirius had been loyal and worthy, the Dark Lord would never have looked twice as Regulus. So, in all fairness, Regulus owed Sirius a pint.

The stale stench of motor gas filled Regulus' lungs. The underground car park wasn't anything special : stifling and gray, with thick walls and low ceilings, and a few motors stacked in between parallel lines on the floor. A couple of sleepy-eyed muggles shuffled about, but it was 5 AM : the place was nearly deserted.

There was a problem with the electric lights. Many were dead, most were flickering. It got worse on the second underground and the muggles walked faster, muttering about cheap city officials as they shot dirty looks upwards. As he reached the ramp leading to the third underground, Regulus found himself squinting in the deepening gloom.

"Got him," Bellatrix said triumphantly. "Magic and electricity don't mix."

"Why didn't he pick somewhere outside of London?"

"Easier to hide magic from the Ministry when you're under yards of earth and concrete. Easier to fill up a party if you're close to a public floo spot." There had been one of those red telephone boxes right outside the parking, with shattered windows and an out-of-order sign. "Crouch ordered the floos monitored, and we have people listening in. We know that instead of the usual score, we had a hundred and fifty floo this way tonight."

"Aurors will be coming too?"

Scornful laughter burst out of Bellatrix's lungs. "Aurors. You think Alphard can't double whatever floo-surveillance is paying its people? Besides, the Ministry's too busy to chase after Euphoria Elixirs and Billiwig venom balls these days. Peddling pills, potions and powders has probably never been so profitable."

Regulus' lips curled. He didn't need the reminder that Alphard was wealthier than Father. The bastard had sent Mother his mind-addling filth, to 'distract her from her misery'. Regulus hated that she hadn't thrown it in the trash. Mother and Father's fighting had gotten even worse, seeping in the letters they wrote him. Regulus couldn't remember his parents ever being soft to each other like Cissy and Lucius were, but nowadays it seemed even the respect was eroding.

Humming in the darkness, Bellatrix finally conjured light. Runes were painted on the ramping road, anchoring a mix of anti-muggle, privacy and alarm wards.

Their vials of polyjuice clinked before they chugged them down. A minute later, Regulus flexed his thin, female fingers, and adjusted his clothes to his new body. He then dispelled the disillusionement charm that had cloaked him until now. He'd picked a muggle woman, an attractive twenty-something with uncombed waist-length hair, who'd been drinking in the street with a band of friends and singing in an off-key voice (to the delight of anyone trying to sleep, no doubt). He didn't doubt she'd fit in. He'd picked her because she was muscled for a woman, and his height. Breasts, and the unnerving lightness between his legs were disorienting enough as it was.

His photo-camera, transfigured into a silver pendant, was cold against his neck.

They stepped forward, entering the warded area. Rousing music blasted away the silence. The darkness gave way to a new kind of gloom, one filled with dancing magical lights of all colors.

Regulus chuckled. It had to be high-pitched but he could barely hear himself over the noise. In front of him Bellatrix had become a tall broad man, but she moved as herself. His cousin made for a stunningly flamboyant weight-lifter, with sparkling tight-fitting robes to match.

The third underground had been transformed. The concrete pillars were surrounded by floating bowls filled with punch and various mixtures. Around them, used ladles floated just as lazily. Spillage littered the ground. A dozen or so tables must have been stacked with food and drink at the start of the evening, but now people danced on top of them, amidst empty bottles and empty plates. A house elf could be seen vanishing the worst of the trash, but the guests seemed to enjoy the chaos. They moved disembodied, as if in a world of their own. Some gaped at nothing, a stupid, hair-rising smile on their faces.

Some weren't people. Regulus reddened as he spotted a half-naked woman with a satyr. Was that a -

"Your wands, please."

A woman with alert blue eyes was seated on an armchair next to where the ramp connecting undergrounds 2 and 3 ended. A rolled out oriental carpet connected the space from side to side, drawing a boundary between newcomers and the party. Woven runes stared back at Regulus. There was an age-line in there, blocking out minors, and who knew what else.

They placed their two wands in the rune-carved silver drawer the lady was pointing at. The runes flashed and Bellatrix stepped through. Regulus pretended to hesitate, waiting for Bellatrix's signal.

It came seconds later. Regulus let go of the breath he'd been holding as he walked over the age-line undetected.

The wand in his pocket felt wrong. Too wide, too short, too rough. His was traced, so Bellatrix had made him try a dozen, and he hadn't dared ask where they came from. Their informant had said the runes would let them in only if they surrendered the wand bound to them. Casting with a wand that hadn't chosen him felt like swimming with his school robes on. Bellatrix had borrowed Cassiopeia's, and a wand willingly lent was a much better match.

The entwined scents of sweat, perfume, alcohol and potion fumes made Regulus' head spin. He clutched Bellatrix's arm, disgust curling his lips. These people and creatures in disguise, accepting to surrender their wands for a chance to drown their senses. Everyone knew that the best high was followed by the worst crash, and that was how those drugs sank their teeth in you, making reality so dull and lifeless that your mind would beg for more until even your body felt pain when it was denied.

And the money they spent... Alphard had made Sirius his heir, and had of course delighted in telling Father so.

That crook had paid and blackmailed his way out of every scrape, but it was time he learned consequences.

Regulus took the chain off his neck and muttered a Finite. Twice. Accursed wand! On the third try the chain thickened and twisted, and finally became a photo-camera once more.

"Gemini," Bellatrix whispered, again and again, until two cameras became twenty and then fifty. They floated upwards, unnoticed in the chaos of the party (or perhaps some did notice, but without wands and with such loud music, what could they do?)

A small rune-carved sphere in her hand, Bellatrix made a half-circle with her wand. A dispel charm began falling over the crowd like an early spring drizzle.

At the same time, Regulus cast the most powerful light spell he could manage. Faces became recognizable more than three feet away. The first surprised shouts could be heard when the music died and soon screams began to fill the room. Polyjuice was expensive and so most disguises were simple charms and glamors, easily washed away by Bellatrix's dispel. Others just wore clever makeup, wigs and masks, torn away by a sudden gust of wind.

All the cameras all began to flash.

Theodora Bulstrode was the first person Regulus recognized. That Prophet journalist, Spinnet, was the second. A wave of panic had gripped the crowd. The euphoric and the dazed were violently shoved aside as people rushed for their wands. Bursts of accidental magic fed the chaos.

A close-by piercing scream grabbed Regulus' attention. A young man was on the ground, clutching his bleeding, possibly broken hand. Divus. The reserve chaser for the Wimbleton Wasps. He'd shown Regulus around when cousin Bella had given in to his pleas to meet the team. He'd seemed an okay bloke. Flinching, Regulus took an instinctive step forward the sobbing man.

The whoosh of a displacement spell had him turn. Bellatrix had spotted Alphard. The ugly bastard stood in the middle of the chaos with a necklace of eagle feathers and tasteless gold-embroidered robes. Regulus breathed in deeply, silencing his emotions with now practiced ease. There was no time for distractions.

From across the room, Alphard seemed to be talking. Half the photo-cameras were down, blasted aside or even to pieces by the house elf, but now the elf vanished, hopefully ordered far away.

"Let's keep the party going!" Alphard bellowed as the music restarted, not quite drowning out the cries of people stepping on each other. Alphard leasurely walked to one of the floating cauldrons and dove a ladle in an orange potion. He gulped the content down. Again. And again, through increasing gales of euphoric laughter. From the horrified expressions of the people near him, some who tried to physically stop him (those slipped on the suddenly greasy floor), that wasn't something you wanted to do.

Alphard Black died laughing. Literally. By the time cousin Bella lifted the imperius curse, he was too drugged to notice what was happening. The remaining cameras in a bag and their wands back in their pockets, The two apparated away, leaving the panicked crowd behind.

The picture of Algernon Longbottom in a compromising position with a vampire lady proved to be one of the most valuable. His wife, Enid nee Diggory, was livid, and strife among the great Light families was invaluable these days. Rowena Crouch, old Bartemius' little sister, on her knees and sucking obscenely on a bottle of firewhisky while a crowd cheered her on, was also quite the treat.

Sirius had predictably boasted about Alphard leaving him a pile of gold. Surrounded by Gryffindor teenagers who considered being rebellious a point of pride, he failed to grasp the social cost of such an association.

At first, Bellatrix had been skeptical of Regulus' plan. 'Why d'you want Sirius to come into a boatload of money?'

'Nobody respects Alphard. Sirius acts like he heroically broke away from his malevolent family. Like his pranks against Slytherins are justice. People starting to associate him with Alphard is the first step to making him nothing.'

'That's some Cissy-grade passive-aggressive scheme.'

'If I go after him directly, or after his friends, it'll feed his Gryffindor complex. He needs to be at the center of the attention, and admired. I know him : when people start doubting him, and laughing at him, he'll lash out. He's not Light. Gryffindors will die for someone who fits their ideals but if you fall from grace, they're the first to turn on you.' Regulus had struggled not to smile as cousin Bella had exaggerated her pout. 'I did consider burning his face so he'd stop flaunting his inherited looks one second and spitting on us the next.'

Bellatrix had perked up, opening her arms as if to say 'and why aren't we doing that?'.

' - but, that's easy. I don't want to show we're more powerful. I want him to realize he was wrong.' He'd taken a slow breath. 'You never went after Andromeda.'

Bellatrix had smiled thinly, it wasn't an amused smile, but one that said she respected his bravery.

'See, Meda was a good sister before she wasn't. To be fair, I'd have to make the great Lord Black pay, and Father... and Mother too, I guess, before I punished her. But Sirius... I daresay I liked our little troublemaker more than you did.'

There was little that was likable about Sirius. He'd flouted rules all his life and Regulus didn't doubt that the minute he was out of Hogwarts, he'd care nothing for laws. It was just a matter of time before even his 'friends' started seeing him as the selfish, egocentric waste of space he was. Regulus would just nudge things to hurry the process along.


"It's done, Sir."

Father frowned, barely lifting his eyes from the letter he'd been writing. "What?" he impatiently said. Like Regulus was some bothersome child interrupting important work.

"Alphard won't be causing anymore strife. I'm tired of the power disowned Blacks still hold over this house."

This time, Father stood up. The man stared at Regulus like he was seeing him for the first time. His jaw stiffened, then he abruptly softened, looking more tired but... happier.

"You... you did something I couldn't do," he allowed. "Good. Well done, Regulus. You've been choosing your friends well."

Regulus had meant to stoically tear from Father the acknowledgment that he had been wrong to treat Regulus like an afterthought for all these years. Instead, a treacherous smile tugged at his lips. Ah, screw it. Regulus stopped fighting it and let a broad childish grin light his face. "Bellatrix had fun, I'll try to make her fond enough of me to make sure she forgets about the whole Black blood curse incident."

It was oddly fun to make Father flinch. Fun and surreal. Father had always been so... stern. But Father's paleness made Regulus' stomach tighten with sudden guilt.

"It's alright, Father. She knows it was the Dark Lord's plan. Just... don't fight her, Sir. It's not worth it. She won't hurt you unless you hurt her again. And the Dark Lord knows we're valuable. I mean... he doesn't keep me around for my magical prowess."

To have Father clasp him on both shoulders, his thin lips curling, and sigh, a sigh that said 'thanks for cleaning up my mess, son', made Regulus' heart swell. A new smile dug into his cheeks. He barely dared believe it, but maybe he and Father could become close.

His heart still racing happily, Regulus looked down. "Now I've got to tell Mother her brother's dead. Wish me luck."

He turned to the door, warmed by Father's benevolent gaze.

"Good luck, Regulus."

His back to his father, Regulus almost tripped. Predictably, he was grinning like a child, again. Merlin, he was soft.

Mother he greeted with a hug. She'd been reading Aries Black's diary, which she usually did when she was in a brooding mood. Aries had been a master of illusions, who'd crafted visions so horrifying his victims had turned mad.

"What?" Despite her brusqueness, Mother's voice had never held the same bite as Father's. Regulus sat next to her on the couch and slung his arm around her shoulders. He smiled when she stiffened. Walburga's shoulders slumped. She looked perfect, as always, too perfect, betraying thick makeup charms and an exhaustion she was too young to feel.

"Mum, you've got to stop worrying that people are laughing at us."

He was going to convince her. He was going to make her stand up straight and forget Sirius. She and Father would see there was nothing wrong with a family with just the three of them.

"Who do you want to be invited by?" he continued as she side-eyed him.

"What do you mean?"

"Among high society, who do you want to invite you and beg you for a favor?" He smiled. "You're not allowed to answer Dumbledore and I'd rather you didn't say Bartemius Crouch."

Mother cocked her head, a sly smile slowly crinkling her eyes. "Are you making promises here, Reggie? Begging, you say? How about Amber Greengrass? I wouldn't mind seeing that McMillian bitch on her knees either. Abraxas -"

"Mum," Regulus said mock sternly, "grant me a couple more years before demanding Lord Malfoy."

Walburga laughed, the first genuine laughter he'd heard for her in much too long.

It was only later that he admitted he'd organized Alphard's death. She'd stared at him wide-eyed an odd expression on her face, until Regulus realized he recognized it. Because he'd seen it in the mirror.

'It's alright to be sad, he was your brother,' he'd said. 'But we can't let our brothers have so much power over us. They ruin things.'

Regulus couldn't remember ever having seen Mother weep before, but oddly, he was glad she did now. He held her and she cried on his shoulder and he didn't tell her to stop.

And he was confident when he went to ask Rodolphus if there was a way to get Amber Greengrass to need Mother's help. He knew the Dark Lord had begun to lose patients with the 'neutrals' and that statements would soon be made.


Regulus took the Dark Mark in July 1978, at the same time as Severus, Avery, and Evan. They stepped into the elite ranks, joining Mulciber and Barty Crouch Jr. Regulus was the youngest by two full years and the only one still at school. Unlike the others, his mark was hidden, appearing on his right forearms only at the Dark Lord's command. Regulus didn't mind being the youngest. On the contrary : the knowledge he'd been found worthy at only sixteen made him stand tall. Long gone were the days where he second guessed himself in Mulciber's presence. Even charming, talented Barty deferred to him, aware Regulus had Bellatrix's ear.

He nevertheless didn't tell Narcissa. He knew she disapproved of the violence and this growing wedge between them saddened him. He didn't tell Sirius, obviously. Few outside their ranks knew the significance of the snake-and-skull mark.

For a time, Regulus was wary of Albus Dumbledore. In the end, he worried needlessly. The Headmaster never took him, or any Slytherin he knew of, aside. Perhaps it wasn't so surprising: Dumbledore had become a politician in the mid-seventies and now defied openly both the Dark Lord and the Ministry. He had little time for Hogwarts, and even less for Slytherins. Perhaps he saw them as too young to matter. Perhaps he knew that the Dark Lord's allies were too clear-sighted for him to confound.

Regulus grew better at Occlumency. He was rarely rattled these days. He didn't doubt the world would soon be theirs. He watched his classmates, those of other houses, to see who were worth the effort. He still spoke to Gladys, so he knew Light's arguments. He also knew the Light was losing, because unlike that Dark Lord, they wasted their time trying to convince the Ministry instead of replacing those spineless buffoons by their own people.

When in the autumn of 1978, masked Death Eaters killed six aurors. For the first time, it was an attack specifically designed to take out aurors rather than a spontaneous battle caused by aurors interfering with Death Eater affairs. The next day, Bartemius Crouch and Minister Minchum gave aurors the right to take any suspect directly to Azkaban, and its never so high number of dementors, to await trial. The politicians' heartfelt speeches had struck a chord in the Ministry and roused their spirits. The five auror captains fiercely proclaimed their support and vowed to spare no efforts.

Two days after the speeches, as the Prophet exalted the bravery of the Ministry's forces, Lord Voldemort struck in broad daylight.

Captains Fenwick's husband had just left Gringotts when he was transfigured into lion cub and skewered by a gleaming trident. Captain Dillon's wife had been practicing with the rest of the Holyhead Harpies when a beam of green light struck her off her broom. Young Captain Prewett's parents had been celebrating their thirtieth anniversary at the Dragon's Perch, and cooing over pictures of six-months old twin grandchildren, when the windows exploded. Twin snakes of cutting glass and dark magic snapped their necks before they could think to flee or fight back.

Witnesses all told similar tales : Lord Voldemort himself, flanked by two or three masked figures. Everything was over in seconds.

The Prophet offered sanitized, reassuring versions. But for the first time, the words 'Civil War' darkened the Prophet's pages. Regulus realized that everyone expected Lord Voldemort to win when the Ministry declared it would 'resist'. You didn't resist against a weaker foe. You crushed them. The resistance, by definition, were not those in power.

During the Winter holidays, Regulus glued the newspaper cover, and those who came after it, to his bedroom's wall, excited to see History unfolding.


Winter 1979 - Regulus' 6th year

"Go, take the kid's hair and drink it," Rodolphus said, with an encouraging slap on Regulus' arm, "They'll come for you. Make sure to be cute and clingy."

A vial of polyjuice in hand, Regulus scrambled over the age-line, occlumency keeping him focused and a glamour disguising his features.

This age-line didn't allow anyone 17 or older through. It wasn't a hastily drawn ward but one powered from century-old runes etched in stone. Doge Cottage was no manor, but it had been warded carefully.

The warded bedroom held a bunk-bed and two little girls huddled together in the lower bunk. The older girl was maybe six, with baby cheeks, tangled brown hair and terrified blue eyes. Regulus tore two strand of her hair by hand : the wand he carried was not his for safety reasons, making all magic feel like he was a fumbling second year.

Still, shoving a kid in a wardrobe and taking her pajamas (and pulling a robe over her because the point wasn't to make the kid freeze to death) wasn't all that difficult. "Petrificus Totalus," he whispered. He then obliviated her, just the last few minutes, so she'd never remember his face (the glamour was an extra precaution), and slammed the wardrobe door shut.

Her sister, barely out of toddlerhood, was howling now, kicking against the sheets he'd magically tied around her limbs. Wincing at the noise, Regulus vanished his own clothes and, stark naked, swallowed his Polyjuice Potion.

It had never tasted good, but he'd swear that bloody brew got more awful every single time. Taking the body of a six year old wasn't what he'd expected Rod to want from him. Not that Regulus had hesitated when his Dark Mark had burned. At 3 AM, not one of his dorm-mates had stirred to ask him where he was sneaking off to.

Regulus pulled the girl's pajamas over his own shivering body and then turned to his 'sister'. Funny how she didn't look so little from a six year old's perspective. He hastily unbound her. "Obliviate!". He winced at the high-pitched baby voice coming out of his lips. But finally, the kid shut up.

As the dazed little girl rubbed her eyes, Regulus slammed his little foot on the wand he was using. The wood cracked. He shoved the shards at the back of a drawer full of toys.

"Bryony, what-" The three-year-old gasped in fear as the walls shook.

Shouts filtered through the closed door, heavy steps, curses. Aurors. Or the Order of the Phoenix.

"Don't worry," Regulus whispered back. "They're coming to save us."

The kid, Hester, sniffled, new tears springing out of her eyes. She had the blonde hair of little kids and slept in a braid. When she clung onto Regulus, Regulus hugged her back. There was no point in being a twit, and the kids weren't the target anyway. But Grandpa Elphias should have thought harder about the girls' safety before he'd thrown his lot so vocally with Dumbledore.

Regulus' head pounded lightly, and he realized he'd not considered how turning into a young child might impact his occlumency. His mind stayed his own when he used polyjuice, but the brain itself... Merlin, how developed was a six year old's brain anyway?

The muffled sound of widows exploding betrayed that the fighting was getting nearer. Hester gasped, clinging on harder. Regulus shuddered, feeling tears spring in his own eyes. There seemed to be no filter between his subconscious and his body. Bloody little kids. Still, tears would be useful. He let them come.

"Don't worry, Hester," he whispered again, dragging them away from door and windows just in case. He felt so naked without a wand. His eyes darted to the wardrobe, and he desperately hoped his body-bind would hold.

The runes of the age-line suddenly flashed golden. The newcomer had known the password to deactivate them. Order of the Phoenix. Regulus' tearful eyes widened when he recognized he witch.

Dorcas Meadowes lifted them both up in a tight hug. Wrinkles lined her face, but the strength in her arms betrayed age still had to sink its claws in her. "It's okay, darlings, you'll be okay." The tug of a portkey soon drowned out the sounds of battle.

His head and stomach were still somersaulting when his feet touched the ground once more. The remains of a meal Regulus hadn't eaten ended up all over the grass. Merlin. He didn't miss being a kid. Hester was howling again, disoriented by the portkey on top of everything.

They were in a yard with a fenced swimming pool and flower beds. Twin lamp-posts lit the garden, the lack of flickering betraying magical lights disguised as electricity. The stars weren't many or bright, this was city sky. "Come, let's get you inside, you were very brave."

Regulus let Meadowes lead him, her hand warm on his back. He silently curled up next to her on the cosy living-room's plush sofa, enjoying putting his shoes on it without being scolded more than he should have. Hester's crying had become sniffles. Still, the sound made his own eyes sting.

Hester's sudden giggle had him follow her gaze. It was the man in the portrait. Red-haired, big-nosed and making faces at them, with a black unicorn fowl playfully rearing next to him.

Regulus' throat went dry. Gladys had told him about this portrait. This wasn't a random safe house. This was Dorcas Meadowes' own home. The place Gladys had spent half her childhood, running around with her cousins.

Regulus forced his mental defenses back in place. His heartbeat slowed, the distracting thoughts faded slightly. He knew what he had to do. Despite the polyjuice, the Dark Mark's pulsed under his skin, its magic too entwined with his to be undone by a simple potion.

"Are the others who were fighting the bad guys going to come here?" Regulus said, staring at his feet. "What if they're hurt?" he added as the woman sat back closer to him. He stretched out on the sofa and set his face on her legs. His eyes instinctively closed as her warm hand patted his (Bryony Doge's) hair. The easy affection was rather baffling. Meadowes wasn't even Bryony's grandmother. Hufflepuffs. (Ravenclaw actually, his memory supplied, but a Ravenclaw who'd raised Hufflepuffs).

"Don't worry, they'll be here soon. Why don't I get you some candy, you sure deserve it."

There was something about kid taste-buds, because Regulus couldn't remember candy tasting that good.

He jolted upright as five new people suddenly crowded the living-room.

"Daddy!" Hester scrambled off the couch and rushed to where the group had apparated. Everett Doge was half-conscious and carried by two men Regulus didn't recognize. Next to them stood Marisa Fenwick, a nasty curse-gash on her arm, and a very grim Alastor Moody.

Everyone looked huge and Moody especially made Regulus clutch his knees to his chin, filled with instinctive terror.

"Those masked bastards were targeting Marisa."

"Them the fools," Fenwick rasped with a tight smile. "We identified Gareth Selwyn, and his pal won't ever be using a wand again. I'll be fine." The woman had been one of the first to go after the Dark Lord's allies, spearheading the aurors' attacks with Moody already in 1976. Losing her husband to the Dark Lord hadn't slowed her down, on the contrary.

Regulus crossed his arms, hugging himself, and whispered 'Voldemort' in the crook of his arm. His Dark Mark-that-wasn't-there burned alive, tearing a gasp from him. 'Won't ever be using a wand again.' Which one? Worry for Rod tightened his throat.

"Bryony-"

He hid his head in his knees. Doge was calling for his daughter but Regulus couldn't. Merlin, why was occluding so hard !

"Hey," Regulus struggled weakly as Dorcas lifted him up, "Your dad will be fine. We've healed his wounds, he's just drained. Nothing magic can't fix. Come give him a hug."

The woman had barely taken a step with him in her arms when a streak of green light shot straight for Everett Doge.

Hester screamed. Dorcas spurred into action. Everything became a blur. Regulus recognized Bellatrix's dark conjured tentacles. Fenwick fell, paralyzed, and the Dark Lord caught her. An impossibly strong blasting cursed shoved them all backwards. The Dark Lord was gone, the auror captain with him. Something yanked Regulus forcefully.

Seconds later, Regulus gasped, realizing he'd just been taken away by a new portkey. Then again, Dorcas was an expert warden, she probably made her own. She was holding onto Moody. Unexpected relief filled Regulus when he spotted Hester in Moody's arms.

"How did they get us?" Moody exploded. "How did they just walk past-"

"The wards weren't compromised, Alastor! I don't know how -"

Something warm and wet touched Regulus' side. He looked down. Dorcas' arm was bleeding. A shard, coated in venom. Nero Mulciber's specialty. The elder Mulciber had known the Dark Lord from school. Tom Riddle, Bellatrix had revealed a few weeks after they'd taken the mark. Severus had looked like his birthday had come early. Regulus had quickly decided being half-blood didn't matter when you were from Slytherin's line and that bloody powerful (and if cousin Bella didn't care, why would he?).

"I've got you," Dorcas said through shuddering breaths. "We'll be fine. I'm so sorry, children."

Regulus stared at the witches bleeding arm. It wasn't healing. Of course it wasn't. Dark curses did that.

"Put them to sleep, Dorcas, we need to get -."

"No!" Regulus grabbed Meadowes' wand and kicked hard, twisting out of her arms.

Moody's disarming spell was weak, suitable to harmlessly take a wand from a distraught small child. Regulus' wordless Levicorpus, powered with the increasing panic taking over him, struck the auror by surprise.

Meadowes met his eyes and suddenly she knew. "Run, they're coming," Regulus muttered, unable to tear his eyes from the woman's wound. A few inches, and that shard would have gutted him.

The witch grabbed Moody and Hester and disapparated. Bellatrix was seconds behind, and soon followed by others. When she spotted Regulus alone, she removed her silver mask and hood with a huff.

"Where are they? Bloody portkeys, I wanted to duel Moody! Slippery cunt." The witch grabbed something from her back and Regulus realized it was the real Bryony. "Those twits gave me kid duty because I'm a girl." She shoved the slumped child next to him. "You babysit."

"The twits gave you kid duty because you can duel with a kid strapped to your back." 'Twit' Rabastan didn't look apologetic at all. Next to him Rodolphus smiled at Regulus, as if this was just a regular night out. Regulus smiled back weakly. "Who lost an arm?" Three of theirs were missing.

"Your dumb cousin." Evan, shit. "Told him to stand guard and vanish but big boy wanted to take a shot at Fenwick."

"Lost them," Bellatrix spat, scowling at the results of her portkey-tracing spell. "Let's go home."

They apparated in front of manor grounds and walked through the wards before apparating once more inside the building. Regulus, still in Bryony's body, squinted in the darkness before recognizing the place. They were at Nott's.

Regulus' breath stopped when he spotted Marisa Fenwick. She was knocked out, eyes shut, and not bleeding, but her hands... They'd been badly burned, as useless as stumps. For the first time in years he thought of Benjamin Fenwick, four years above him at Hogwarts, keeper for the Ravenclaw team. He turned his eyes away, his throat dry. Next to Fenwick, two terrified looking large lizards cowered in a cage.

"Seeing us torture and kill her men might make her talk more easily than anything we do to her... We might even free one to bait the Order," the Dark Lord said with a thin, satisfied smiled. "How far do you think they'll go, for one of theirs?" He turned to Bellatrix. "Bella, why are you all back already?"

The witch jerked her thumb at Bryony-Regulus. "They left Reggie behind."

"Moody was suspicious," Regulus managed, his voice still stupid and six years old."They wanted to put me to sleep and my reaction gave me away."

"You should have let them put you to sleep, fool." Regulus wilted under the Dark Lord's unflinching gaze. "You've cost us information on a second safe-house and two excellent hostages."

The Dark Lord's pulsing magic echoed in the Dark Mark, sending dull throbbing pain through Regulus' arm. The teenager hated his new body with a renewed vengeance when uncontrollable shudders and tears turned him into a blubbering fool.

"It's this body, my Lord," he said through his tears. "it's... it reacts too strongly to everything. I think it's because it's so young. It's not just the muscles that are weak, the brain too. I wouldn't be crying and shivering like this if I was myself."

Lord Voldemort frowned. The red glow to his eyes seemed to recede, replaced by a thoughtful expression. "You're saying that polyjuice affects... Ah, interesting." Regulus hoped he'd struck the Dark Lord's scholarly fiber hard enough to distract him from Regulus' failure.

But the respite was short. Regulus, himself again after a quarter hour had passed, had nowhere to hide. At least, he'd had time to collect himself. He'd never liked his own body so very much.

Bellatrix's eyes were oddly bright as she handed Regulus back his wand. "Cast an imperius on the kid."

"What? Whatever for?" Bryony was on a conjured cushion on the floor, her knees to her chin and her arms wrapped around her legs as sleep and fear warred behind her wide eyes. She'd been hit with a curse than made her unable to remember faces or voices, freeing them from the need to use masks or glamours.

Regulus froze when Bellatrix's wand caressed his jaw line. "Because you wouldn't want people here to think you used the polyjuice as an excuse, would you? You buckled and lost us Moody. I wanted Alastor Moody. He's training Sirius, you know? Whispering lullabies about Dumbledore's greatness to your idiot brother." She slung her arm around Regulus' waist and turned him around so he was facing Bryony. Her curls tickled his neck and her breath was warm on his ear. "So show me I can count on you, Reggie."

Unnerved, Regulus lifted his wand. His hands were clammy.

"Imperio," he said firmly. Bryony flinched. Rod, Rabastan, Bellatrix and the Dark Lord were all staring. "Do a cartwheel," Regulus said, feeling suddenly very silly.

The kid just stared back.

Bellatrix sighed. "Do try to mean it..."

Alright. He wanted to go back to sleep. He wanted the kid taken home. He'd send her back to Meadowes with their compliments. A nice snake embroidered in that pillow Bryony was sitting on perhaps.

"Imperio!"

This time, he felt the magic leave him, and he felt her, her magic or whatever it was, there for the grabbing. But somehow it was... slippery. He couldn't quite -

Bryony, now wide awake, screamed. Regulus gasped, doubling over. It was like someone had kicked him in the stomach.

Rabastan and Bellatrix snickered, and Regulus realized Bryony's magic had flared to defend her.

Increasingly frustrated despite his mental shields, he tried again. And again. His magic kept slipping -

He gasped in pain as an invisible hand grabbed him, like huge bony fingers pressing with impossible strength on his shoulders and spine. He dropped to his knees, his jaw clenched as he fought to suppress a cry.

"Look at me," the Dark Lord softly ordered.

Regulus did, his nerves and muscles burning as he fought to raise his eyes. He willed himself to meet the wizard's pitiless gaze. To stay as impassive as he could.

"Your polyjuice theory has merit," Lord Voldemort said after a few seconds, and Regulus might have gasped in relief had the pressure on his lungs allowed him to breathe. "But I see you are occluding."

Bellatrix groaned. "You idiot. Regulus, you can't use dark arts while occluding. Quit it. Now." She yanked him upwards. The Dark Lord's bindings dissolved.

Regulus had no choice. His head spinning as he struggled to breathe properly without looking panicked, he turned back towards Bryony, wand raised.

Her new screams suddenly stopped being an annoyance. The became screams. A child's screams. Regulus swallowed, Dorcas Meadowes' bleeding wound. Nero Mulciber hadn't cared that he could have struck Regulus. The witch's comforting voice and easy hugs. Gladys, telling him about the portrait. Bryony screaming. Screaming so loudly.

She doesn't know her Father's dead.

"Reggie, you baby." Cousin Bella shook her head. "Imperio. Pay attention to how it feels."

Pay what? The voice was everything. What did he feel? He felt nothing. Everything was irrelevant, except the voice.

"Summon a knife," the voice said. He did. "Stab the kid."

Stab. Why? Why not? He stabbed but with little force. It was just a gash. Bryony whimpered, now petrified in terror. Regulus blinked. The voice had stopped speaking. He didn't know what to do.

He blinked again. And gasped. It was like a fog had been lifted. He jumped away from Bryony and dropped the bloody knife he was holding. His eyes flickered to Rod. He saw some concern there, but nothing that suggested he disapproved of his wife's actions.

"See?" Bellatrix said breathily, a disquieting smile on her lips. "When you're imperioed, you're nobody. I became your will. But that only works if your will is strong enough to drown hers, Reggie. But maybe baby Reggie -"

"Oh, come off it!" Regulus snapped. Cousin Bella had imperioed him. What. The. Fuck. "I'll never match you. Why do you care that I can cast unforgivables? I can't okay? I need occlumency. Maybe later, I won't, but today, I need it. None of you need me to cast the imperius –"

"Then why do we need you, Reggie?" Bellatrix's voice was suddenly low and dangerous.

"Politics, recruiting, infiltration, support... Handling the hostage," he said, picking up a shivering Bryony who clutched on by instinct. "I'm no hard-hitting first liner. Try to make me one and I will disappoint you."

He was standing between Bellatrix and Bryony. His cousin noticed.

"You've got a problem with me having fun with the kid?"

"Do you need to? Are you sure your dark arts are under control?"

Bellatrix's face twisted. Regulus screamed as twin spiky vines rooted his legs on the spot, panic and pain blurred his vision.

"I don't need anything," she snarled. "You will -"

He couldn't breathe from the pain. He had to - "Kreacher!"

The elf's long fingers were around Regulus' arm and popped him away before Bellatrix's second curse could hit.

Regulus hissed, letting the girl drop in his bed. He punched the wall with a grunt. He'd called Kreacher in front of the Dark Lord !

"Master Reggie needed to be popped," Kreacher said, as if Regulus was pissed off at him. "I can be taking the girl back."

"Lossy," Bryony suddenly whispered, staring intently at Kreacher. "LOSSY!"

A confused young house-elf popped into view.

Bryony launched herself at her. "Get me away! Help!"

The two vanished with a loud pop.

Regulus stared at the empty place where the child had been. Relief filled him, but not just. "Bugger," he muttered. Whose house elf was that? "Don't we have wards against foreign house-elves?"

Kreacher shook his head apologetically. "Guests of House Black can be calling own house-elves to work magic on themselves. Nobody can be sending house-elves from outside or getting house-elves to work magic on Black blood, Black property, or other guests of House Black."

Right. New worry began too fill Regulus. Kreacher would be in so much trouble. "Listen Kreacher, I... if someone gives you trouble, you get to me, okay. If you're... hurt or anything. That's an order, if you're hurt you come to me, that's a summons. Tell Mother you were protecting me before anyone can tell her otherwise."

Kreacher nodded. "Master should not be worrying for Kreacher. Master should be going back to school."

Five thirty AM, and he had seven hours of classes tomorrow. Ugh. At least his Dark Mark didn't burn. But the situation was worse than that.

"They'll know Gladys was here now. And the elf saw me."

Kreacher's mouth twisted into something grim. "That Kreacher can be fixing. No elf be coming in Black House without leaving magic trace for Black elves to find."

"Need my wand?"

Wide-eyed, Kreacher grasped the wand with both hands. "Don't be telling anyone," he muttered, shaking his head in a very familiar fashion.

As if Regulus cared right now what was proper between wizards and house-elves. "I need that elf to forget where she was and forget me, but I don't want her hurt more than necessary."


Regulus' fingers were trembling when he opened a letter from Bellatrix at breakfast. He was so exhausted he yawned at the parchment that could well hold his death sentence.

'If you're such a great politician, send us more recruits. Don't show your face before that. You have three months. Don't waste time with the Slytherins.'

He chuckled wryly, hysteria threatening to take over. He'd have to write Severus. Maybe there was still Felix Felicis around in Morocco. He'd need a whole barrel.

Kreacher had caught up with Lossy before anyone had sought to get the elf's memories in a pensieve. Regulus was safe, but he couldn't help wondering what had happened to Bryony.

He blanched when he spotted Gladys at the Hufflepuff table and focused aggressively on his breakfast. The argument they'd had months ago about Dark Arts resurfaced, and this time Glady's words were much harder to dismiss.

Had Bellatrix always been like this? Had she just been tired and angry because Regulus had failed or - He couldn't forget her smile when she'd cast the imperius, the way she'd breathed hard like she'd swallowed an euphoria elixir. And the Dark Lord, hadn't his eyes glinted when he'd made Regulus kneel so painfully?

Regulus took a slow breath, clearing his mind by habit, then stopped. His feelings trickled back in, whispering, then roaring. He had to toughen up, or Bellatrix would chew him alive.

He could feel it, the invisible dark mark under his skin. Instead of pride, it filled him with fear.

He stood up and slung his bag over his shoulders, letting his thoughts wander as he strode out over the grounds, letting their echo fill his mind, scream terrifying questions he didn't know how to answer.

But fear could be turned into power. Everything could.

Magic swirled, channeled by his wand. Without words to guide it, without any structure but Regulus' need to feel strong, to feel protected, it drained his energy and emotions. But it was there, and powerful. That was true magic. The magic the Dark Lord wanted.

Perhaps cousin Bella's story of her first meeting of the Dark Lord was the reason Regulus' magic had shaped itself into a conjuration. Regulus gingerly brushed his knuckles against the black bear's fur. The creature stood on its hind legs, barely more than three foot tall: a familiar more than a monster. Its, her, paw came to rest on Regulus' knee. When the teenager sat, the bear draped over his back, as if he was a tree. Its weight was oddly comforting.

And without occlumency, Regulus could breathe again, his mind blessedly empty. He took out his charm textbook and began practicing the incantations Flitwick had to be currently teaching his classmates.

Fear stirred once more, as well a muddy choking guilt, when Regulus recognized the figure walking up to him. A new yawn escaped Regulus' jaw and he had to smile wryly. The bear had taken so much out of him that he had to worry more about falling asleep than dark arts clouding his emotions.

The bear grunted as Gladys got within six feet of him. She froze and slowly sat to be at Regulus' level, still four feet away. The bear rolled off Regulus and sat too, mimicking their positions, its stare never leaving Gladys.

"Practicing your conjurations?" she said with an inquisitive frown.

"I want to see how long it lasts. That's one hour for now."

"Reg, light conjurations don't last more than a couple of minutes." She sighed. "You don't usually skip class. I'm worried about you."

"Sometimes light magic's not enough. I... I know there's a price to pay. But... sometimes other choices cost more. You're never scared for your grandmother? You're sure Dumbledore can look out for his people?"

Gladys' expression darkened. "I... It's not like that. They're not Dumbledore's followers, they're people working together for justice. They're doing their best and of course I'm bloody terrified." She smiled slightly at the bear. "Its kind of cute." The tight grip on her wand showed that she nevertheless could tell it was some kind of guardian spell.

"Why don't you take control of the Ministry? Force all ministry workers who want a salary to fight with Dumbledore instead of hoping you get enough volunteers in the Order? It just... you'll get all the best people killed. There's no justice in that."

That earned his a wide-eyed stare. "Wait, you now agree we should fight against You Know Who?"

"I don't see how it's your grandmother's job to die for justice the Ministry never cared about enforcing. What's the point in powerful mages killing each other off so that the Ministry's people can leave their hiding places and get their jobs back the moment everything's quiet again? I mean, the survivors might get medals but nothing will change except the number of graves."

Gladys shuddered, but she shook her head slowly. "Reg, you assume You Know Who cares about politics. What do you think is more likely, that he can't truly kill Minchum, or that he's happy to let things fester as an excuse to hunt down the Order? Despite his claims, he seems to have more of a problem with the powerful who don't bow to him than with the weak."

That... Regulus couldn't quite deny. "So why aren't you playing it subtle? What do you think will happen if the Order disbands?"

"Those Death Eaters will bust through every house, using legilimency and torture, to track Dumbledore down. Only, as long as the Order stands, people won't be fighting for their lives alone."

"I'm sorry," Regulus muttered. How could he possibly get the Meadowes out of this mess? "Just... you really shouldn't put off any conversation you want to have with your Gran."

Gladys' eyes shimmered and she looked away. Lips pinched she gingerly reached out towards Bear.

Bear moved her paws, as if to say hi.

Regulus smiled weakly, feeling wretched.


The Order rescued Marisa Fenwick four weeks after her capture, a shadow of the person she'd been, kept alive by dark arts and to send the aurors pensieve memories of her torture. Sirius killed Ardra Travers. Mulciber barely escaped.

Regulus saw an opportunity and had his former housemate give him the memory of that encounter. Making a picture from a memory was a tricky process, but Regulus had begun taking an interest in photograph-modification since he'd learned it was a trick the Prophet used. He still would occasionally take pictures of the Hogwarts corridors and then have fun moving portraits and ghosts from one to the other, switching things around. Because it cleared his mind, and Hogwarts was beautiful. He needed that.

Today's picture was huge, hanging in the Great Hall like the end of year banners. The writing is red and gold, "A Victory For the Light!', the letters drip slightly, like blood.

Sirius' gray eyes were remorseless as he gazed upon twenty-seven-year-old Ardra Travers' broken body, his arm still outstretched, proof he was quite ready to finish the job if she so much as twitched. Travers' wand-arm had been blasted off, her chest caved with rib bones sticking out. It wasn't pretty, or clean, or heroic.

In the corner, James Potter was pale, his jaw set, but it's obvious he'd rather be anywhere else. Sweat and dirt matted the thick hair he'd once so often mussed to impress the ladies.

A few Gryffindors cheered but most didn't. Everyone stayed subdued long after a horrified McGonagall transfigured cutlery into a crowd of monkeys who rolled up the picture and took it out of sight (they'd first tried to vanish, cut, blast it, even throw conjured paint over it, but wizardkind had developed a library's worth of spells to protect photographs from domestic accidents).

Sirius was no hero. He was no better than them. Regulus would make sure everyone understood that. The Gryffindors looked ill, and good. They thought they were the saviors, they skirted around words like murder when it came to their own. Time to face reality.


April 1979

When his Dark Mark burned. Regulus hesitated. It wasn't a strong burn. An invitation more than a summons. He still had two weeks before he would have to report.

But he did have names for the Dark Lord. Most students saw him as close to some of the Dark Lord's allies but harmless and so tested the waters with him, often revealing more than they realized.

Funny how, despite individual differences, there were patterns specific to each house : Ravenclaws easily believed that the Dark Lord had to be rational. That his ambition was for an orderly government once this 'revolution' was over. The more cynical Ravenclaws didn't hesitate to negotiate wands and transport for muggleborn friends, muggles or squib relatives, convinced the Dark Lord had greater means to secure that than the Order. They weren't wrong (as long as their price was right).

Hufflepuffs responded the most to promises of safety and often demanded spellcraft knowledge or warded land. They cared less for who was in power, but their empathy made them hate the violence. More than anybody, they recoiled at the thought of collateral damage for a greater goal.

Gryffindors were hardest because they held their principles close and the Dark Lord was evil (and a Slytherin, with a lot of Slytherin generals, fighting Gryffindor Dumbledore, who had a lot of Gryffindor generals). They found resistance glamorous. But some believed that evil could be rescued if only it was exposed to enough good, and Gryffindors hated to back away from a challenge. Others were convinced they were so clever they would succeed in infiltrating Death Eater ranks.

Regulus apparated at what he assumed to be a rural property belonging to the Crabbes and realized there was actually quite a crowd. Perhaps fifty masked figures in Black, gathered in a loose circle. Regulus clenched his jaw as his marked arm spasmed. Cold fury radiated from the Dark Lord.

Before him, Avery, Mulciber and cousin Evan. Dread began to pool in Regulus' stomach. Why had the Dark Lord gathered such an audience?

The Dark Lord's voice was deceptively calm and more sibilant than Regulus remembered. "I asked you to bring me Fabian and Gideon Weasley."

"We killed MacKaulay!" Mulciber turned to the crowd with that smile of his, as if this was Slytherin House and he'd just won the Quidditch match for them. "You should have seen his face when Avery imperioed his son to fuck his muggle swine of a mother. He -"

"Enough. The MacKaulays were bait, not our mark. That you stayed to indulge -"

"We didn't expect the Prewett sister to be disillusioned behind her brothers. She gave birth to twins less than a year ago! Next time,-"

"Crucio!"

Mulciber's cry tore through the crowd. A few gasped, but soon there was no noise save for Mulciber's agonized screams. A deathly stillness had gripped the crowd. They'd seen the Dark Lord torture enemies before, but never one of theirs.

Mulciber ran out of breath before the Dark Lord's spell powered out. The twenty year old was on the ground, sobbing, his robes soiled, as he struggled and failed to organize his trembling limbs into a semblance of dignity.

"Do not interrupt me, boy. Do not boast about disobeying me. You failed me when you let Fenwick be rescued. You failed me again today." He turned to cousin Evan, cowering with Avery behind Mulciber. They were both on their knees, a picture of abject subservience that had Regulus shiver. "Nero and Brannon are old friends. You were born of strong blood, but if you fail to live to your potential, what shall I do with you?"

"My Lord, we won't fail," cousin Evan managed.

The Dark Lord smiled mirthlessly. "I'll make sure to give you an easy task." He then turned to the figure on his right. The silver mask vanished, revealing Bellatrix. She didn't look upset or even uneasy, on the contrary.

"Crucio," she breathed with a smile, her voice a unnerving mix of calm and thrill.

Knowing what would happen made it worse. The assembled flinched almost as one as Avery screamed, writhing in agony. He gasped after a few seconds, and immediately screamed louder.

"If you'd been less eager to play with the muggle and her son, Avery, Molly Weasley might not have surprised you." The Dark Lord smiled, red eyes gleaming. Regulus could recall having thought the man handsome but tonight, he struggled not to look away. "I can forgive honest failure when the challenge is great, but this... this is an insult. I will not tolerate anything but your best."

The Dark Lord acknowledged Regulus with the slightest bow of his head then. As if to say 'you know the rules now.'


Summer 1979

Regulus had been sitting silently on his bedroom's armchair for the better part of an hour.

'I need a house elf.'

'Kreacher, obey the Dark Lord as you would Father.'

Regulus had made sure to speak before Father had thought to. Kreacher didn't obey Father like he obeyed Regulus. Of course, Kreacher did not defy Lord Black, but there was a difference between commands that bound you and wishes you wanted to fully fulfill. Over the years, Kreacher and Regulus had created their little private space made secure by omissions.

Whatever did the Dark Lord need Kreacher for? Why hadn't he asked Bellatrix for Bean? Or one of the Malfoy elves?

Regulus sucked in a breath. For the first time, he'd dreaded the summer holidays and now... He fought the urge to occlude, to give up and be the perfect little soldier. His pride forbade him to. And loyalty. Kreacher deserved better.

Also, by focusing on Kreacher, Regulus could feel their magical bond, like a bracelet you wore everyday and forgot about if you weren't specifically paying attention to it.

Minutes before, the bond had begun to, for the lack of a better word, fray.

Doing nothing was agonizing. He had ordered Kreacher, months before to come to him if he was hurt, but if the Dark Lord had ordered him to stay...

Regulus put his face in his hands. What did he risk? Not his life. The cruciatus? It was just pain. He'd never forgive himself.

"Kreacher," he whispered. "Kreacher, come here," he repeated more firmly, pushing himself upright. Why wasn't he answering? "Kreacher!"

After three horrible seconds, the elf finally popped at his feet, desperately pale and wheezing wretchedly. Regulus cradled him with a horrified gasp.

Unexpected rage surged through him. Kreacher didn't deserve this. Kreacher was family, not some thing you used and cast away. A horrible hiccup exited Kreacher's lips, his chest spasmed erratically, and his heart - No. He could not die.

Kreacher would not die. Magic bled from Regulus' skin to his wand and into the elf's shaking body. "Heal yourself," Regulus hissed. "Don't you dare die."

He didn't let go as the elf retched, a potion of some kind mixed with bile and blood.

Why? Why poison Kreacher -

Regulus' arms shook, and his eyes fluttered with sudden exhaustion. Merlin. He'd not be using magic for two days at least. It had been close. Too close.

Fury still pounded in his chest. Even if the Dark Lord hadn't know that Kreacher was more than just the elf to Regulus, letting Kreacher die was tantamount to taking a shit in Father's food during dinner. That wasn't how you treated allies you had any respect for.

But who was he kidding? When was the last time the Dark Lord had shown them any respect?

Regulus stared at his Dark Mark. The snake, the skull, they'd seemed beautiful, powerful, entrancing. Now... a nightmare was branded in his skin. The Dark Lord had apparated unannounced, like one walked in a muggle house, because Regulus' Dark Mark was to him gateway through the wards. Even their home was his now.

Unexpectedly, Regulus thought Lily Evans. Her name had been whispered in Death Eater ranks after that article she'd sneaked in the Prophet last Spring. Where she'd exposed Death Eater actions and accused the Ministry of covering things up to make themselves look better. It should've gone on Regulus' bedroom wall, that one, like all articles that spoke of the Dark Lord's power. Except seeing the list of the dead, muggles, mudbloods, and mudblood lovers mostly, names that meant nothing to Regulus but... so many... Regulus had slid it in his drawer, face down, instead. He now clearly recalled the last time conversation he'd had with Evans, years ago.

"It's not politics, Black," she'd said. "It's people's lives."

Merlin, he'd been so blind.

"What did he want?" Regulus demanded, eyes still bright with fury. "Kreacher, what was worth your life?"


Author's note :

What strikes me as so tragic is that Regulus is barely an adult when he finds out about the Horcrux. I think I accidentally made him one year younger than canon does (in both cases, he's sixteen when he's marked), but 17 or 18, he's in way over his head.

An aside on Sirius : In canon, people like Moody, McGonagall or Dumbledore didn't question that Sirius had betrayed the Potters (to their defense, they were convinced he was secret keeper, Sirius did say he was guilty, and they had no other suspects). So my take is that Sirius, for an Order member, was particularly ruthless and violent (and few aside from the Marauders and Lily saw his better side). The fact that he was a Black, knowledgeable in dark magic, and that he'd been a bully as a student didn't help. Also (canon, but yet to happen in this story), Sirius being reinstated by Orion as heir of House Black must have looked fishy.

So, what do y'all think?