A/N I am... back? It occurred to me that I've been working on this storyline for more than five years, now, and have yet to finish one full story. I am working on getting back to it, and hope to share more updates with you soon.
I'd also like to thank toads-in-my-pockets on tumblr, who left (without my knowledge) a very generous review of this fanfic! I can't tell you how much that encouraged me, not only to keep updating, but also just to keep on writing in my various endeavors.
In any case, to get back to the story:
"Remus," Sirius said.
"Lupin," Regulus followed.
The aforementioned Remus Lupin did not answer.
"I can explain," Sirius offered.
"I'm not sure if you're the best candidate," Regulus shot back, almost reflexively.
"I—" Sirius gestured obnoxiously— "went looking for him—" very pointy fingers at Regulus' direction— "and found out that he—" more fingers— "wasn't dead. And now we're trying to find a way to kill Lord Voldemort many times over because, surprise, surprise, he's not dead." Then a pause. "I realize that's a lot of dead people coming back to life, but that's the truth."
Lupin remained silent.
"How did you know to look for us here?" Regulus said, feeling, not for the last time, that he was asking the questions that Sirius should've been thinking of. "And why today?"
Lupin held up a piece of parchment.
"Oh bless you, Moony," Sirius breathed. "You rescued it from Filch's office."
"It's not for you," Lupin said sharply.
"What do you want?" Regulus said.
The way Lupin kept looking back and forth between them, Regulus got a sense that he didn't know the answer to the question himself. "James told me to be on the lookout for Sirius," he eventually continued. "Said that Sirius wasn't himself. I didn't believe him, but it did make me start looking at the map again, and here we are. Less than a week later." Lupin's eyes darkened. "He said you were aiding Regulus Black with Dark matters, Sirius."
He's not wrong, Regulus thought. "We're trying to put an end to the war," he said instead.
"The war is over."
"On the surface. Not truly."
"If what Sirius just said is true," Lupin countered, "then all the more reasons to go to the Ministry. I find it very hard to believe, Black, that you, potentially the most wanted man in England, is hiding himself from the Aurors out of pure goodwill."
"The Ministry's being handled by former Death Eaters," Regulus hissed. "You don't see how the former servants of the Dark Lord are walking out in broad daylight every day, because they were deemed innocent? The reach that the Pureblood society has on politics is far too deep for me to trust Ministry officials with this kind of information."
"It's his mission, Remus," Sirius supplied. "He's been obsessed, really, but he's trying to make amends."
"It doesn't change the fact that he broke into the Ministry and tempered with a key defendant."
"Bloody hell," Regulus swore. "Bartemius Crouch was never going to plead innocent in the first place. I needed information from him about where the next Horcrux was. It's here. Hogwarts. And I assure you, I will be safely locked away in some distant cell in Azkaban before long. Potter really just has to hold himself back for a little longer until this business is settled, and he can do whatever he wants with me." From the corner of his eyes, Regulus could see Sirius stir uneasily at his words, but Regulus waved him back, as if he was employing mere rhetoric to convince Lupin. They needed Lupin to let them go.
Perhaps Lupin could sense the veracity in his words.
"Am I supposed to believe, Black, that you just converted from a Death Eater to a martyr in a day?" Lupin said.
"Not in a day," Regulus said. "Not a martyr. But I have been under the shadows of the Dark Lord and his rising power for the past twenty years, Lupin, and I'd like to get rid of it."
Lupin regarded him silently. And then Sirius. And then him. And then Sirius. The silence was awfully long.
"This Horcrux," he said. "What does it look like?"
Normally, a meeting with Remus had a soothing quality on Sirius, who by nature found it hard to sit still. They could not meet often during the war, sadly, as Remus began to go deeper and deeper into the inner circles of the werewolf community that refused to come above ground (despite being humans like everyone else! Sirius thought) and Sirius found himself occupied with more frontline positions for the Order as well as working at Zonko's. They'd drifted apart, and the war did not help them in this matter; full of suspicion and distrust, sometimes Sirius found it difficult to look him in the eye during the Order meetings, not knowing what Remus had been up to the past several months. To be frank, the last time they saw each other was just after the defeat of Voldemort—or rather, a partial defeat of Voldemort.
Remus seemed well, but it did not sit well on Sirius' conscience that Remus was refusing to look him in the eyes as well.
"I know it's a lot to take in," Sirius said as they watched Regulus pace in front of a wall, deeply in thought. Remus had led them deftly to the seventh floor using the map—which he still hadn't let Sirius even touch, Sirius noted with dissatisfaction. Remus stared straight ahead.
"The diadem," he said. "The lost diadem of Rowana Ravenclaw. I don't even know why I'm standing here right now. The story's just getting more and more preposterous."
"So preposterous, that you know no one could've made it up?" Sirius supplied.
Remus shrugged, but didn't say anything.
"Got it," his little brother said, and, surprisingly enough, a door began to appear, looking like any other wooden door at Hogwarts. Sirius let out a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding. A part of him doubted that this so-called Room of Requirements had been—what, part of Regulus' long-term plan to thwart the Order once and for all and bring back Voldemort?
Sirius shook his head. No, he'd doubted that Regulus would know something about the castle that he, a Marauder, did not know. It seemed outright impossible that he should possess any knowledge that he didn't. And yet, here they were.
Horcruxes—Regulus knew first.
Room of Requirements—Regulus knew first.
Animagus—well, no one could take that away from him.
"Are you taking us to your snogging spot, Reggie?" he drawled, perhaps more nastily than he'd intended. Regulus gave him a dirty look.
"This," he said, producing a piece of parchment ripped from an old Black library book. "Is what the diadem is said to look like. I'm sure there are many odd trinkets in there, so be on the lookout."
Remus wordlessly took the piece of parchment and nodded.
"You two go in," he murmured. "I'll stand here, just in class there are some errant students roaming at night. One can never be too sure."
Sirius grinned and clasped Remus' shoulder. "Don't tell me there are troublemakers in the castle worse than us, Moony?"
The answering look on Remus' look was stoney.
"Let's go," Regulus said, opening the door.
Sirius' eyes widened as he took in the enormity of the room behind the door.
"Blimey," he swore. "That is huge."
And huge it was. The ceilings were high enough to compare to the ceilings of the Great Hall, but the room was not upheld by any columns or even walls as far as Sirius' eyes could make out. Piles and piles of stuff—chairs, notebooks, even a vanity mirror—were stacked on top of each other, hiding the contents of the next pile from Sirius' eyes. Dim light from the chandelier above lit the entire, seemingly endless room.
"We'll have to split up," Regulus voiced Sirius' thought. "We can't stay here forever."
"Well, we hope that the diadem will be somewhere relatively easy to find," Sirius said. "If I were the old Voldy Moldy, I wouldn't want to spend forever looking for a fairly dingy tiara."
"We'll see."
Sirius shook his head. The forever-pessimistic little brother.
"You go left, I'll go right," he said. Regulus nodded, and they went their separate ways.
Being back in Hogwarts was the worst feeling in the world.
Considering the things he'd felt over the years, that was a lot. He thought he'd hit rock bottom each time injuries sustained from his mother's episode left scars on his body, but that didn't compare to the time that Sirius abandoned the family. He was proven wrong again when things with Alex fell apart, and he realized that she meant more to him than the family that kept giving him nothing but pain, that he should've put her before anything else. But that regret kept increasing with every realization he had about all the mistakes he made over the years, joining the Dark Lord's circle, each raid he carried out, each mission he accomplished, and every day felt like a new rock bottom until that day in the cave, when he was dragged down by the Inferi.
He almost welcomed the pain they gave to the pain he already had.
But being here, right now—it was even worse.
He had all the time to reflect on the things he'd done wrong and all the choices he could've and should've made. He wasn't a teenager realizing things for the first time; he knew, he knew, so clearly and so painfully, the extent of the consequences his actions brought on everything he cared about.
At every corner something reminded him of each mistake he made and all that he'd lost. The step on the third floor staircase as he had to rush from Quidditch practice to Charms as Alex helped him up with a piece of toast she'd snuck from breakfast. The few precious times they got to spend going through the Honeydukes catalogue, planning a good occasion for each candy. The countless times they walked through the door to the Room of Requirements, with a different purpose in mind…
He knew reminiscing about teenage girlfriends was a frivolous pastime of many insignificant fools, and he was willing to concede to it.
But she wasn't just a teenage girlfriend. She was his best friend, his confidante, the one person he could count on when he needed to do something extraordinarily stupid, like nicking supplies from the Infirmary to take care of the wounds from Grimmauld Place or the times he overslept and missed the moring Potions lesson.
Lost in these thoughts, it was only at the last second that he sensed a presence standing behind him.
"Sirius, I'm not going to show you the picture again. You should know what the diadem looks like by now. If not, you need to have your head checked."
"Mr. Black," a voice he hadn't heard in a long time said. "I'm not the other Mr. Black, I fear."
Despite its gentleness, the voice shot a momentary terror through his spine and Regulus spun around, his wand raised.
But no words would escape him, despite all the questions in his head. In fact, his mind automatically began to close itself off, his old training kicking in despite a part of his brain telling him that the person standing in front of him was, in fact, not dangerous.
"We don't have long," Dumbledore broke the silence. "I fear that Mr. Lupin has already alerted the Aurors regarding your presence in the castle."
Regulus' grip on the wand tightened. "How did you get past him?"
"I didn't," Dumbledore replied. "I was here before you arrived."
"Coincidentally, I'm sure."
"Quite the contrary," he said. "I anticipated your arrival."
Regulus felt his guard go up even higher. "You knew I'd be here?"
"I knew you'd come here," Dumbledore corrected.
"Then why didn't you open the door of the castle wide open?" The defensiveness in his voice sounded odd, even to him. Something crept out of him at the sight of the old headmaster—irritation, perhaps.
He'd sent Dumbledore all his notes before his supposed suicide mission. That man knew-next to Regulus and the Dark Lord—all the heinous exploits he'd been involved in. The only reason that Regulus had even sent Dumbledore the notes was so that he could carry on the work of destroying the Horcruxes, when he was gone.
From the looks of it, Dumbledore had not done much, despite the fact that he'd had the necessary knowledge for over eighteen months.
"It is not my place," Dumbledore said quietly, as if he could read Regulus' mind. Oh, wait. He could. Regulus grit his teeth. His occlumency skills must've been slipping. "As much as one can talk of destiny…"
"Destiny," Regulus spat out. "It is not my destiny to do this. I am compelled to do this. It is the only thing I can think of doing."
Dumbledore's inscrutable face formed itself into a—was that a smile?
"Some, Mr. Black, would call that destiny."
"What are you doing here?" he said. "What do you want?"
"To do my part." With those words, Dumbledore reached inside his robe, and Regulus' fingers tightened on his wand automatically.
Unexpectedly, what Dumbledore produced was a small vial, with silvery substance inside.
"I assume you're familiar with this, Mr. Black," Dumbledore said. "As Pureblood families often like to preserve their family memories."
Regulus nodded. "They're not always reliable," he said. "Liable to corruption. Selective editing."
"It's good that you know." Dumbledore placed the vial on the nearest object next to him. "Inside this you will find contents that can aid your search. It is by no means conclusive, but in cases like these one can only work on probability. I would also advise—" sensing something, Dumbledore stopped and listened.
Footsteps, Regulus realized. And not Sirius'. Sirius never had the ability to walk in a stealthy way. Stomp, stomp, everywhere he went, so much so that Kreacher complained that Sirius stirred up the century-old dust in the wooden floorboards of the Grimmauld Place.
"Aurors?" Regulus said lowly.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Not quite this time, Mr. Black. Now, I must bid you the best of luck."
Despite everything, Regulus felt his heart drop at this farewell. "Thank you," he responded woodenly.
"We will see each other soon, I'm certain." With those words, Dumbledore turned to walk away; when Regulus went around the corner, however, there was only Sirius standing in front of him.
"I found it, Reg!" he said excitedly, waving an old diadem in his hand. "I found it."
Regulus frowned. "Since when did you start walking so lightly?" he asked.
"I dunno," Sirius said, scratched his head with the same hand that held the diadem.
"Careful!" Regulus yelled.
Sirius looked back at him, highly affronted.
"I'm not going to drop it, you git," he said. "I'm perfectly capable of scratching my head and holding an object at the same time. And, oh, walking lightly."
"I don't care if you drop it," Regulus shot back. "I was worried about it falling on your head and you accidentally wearing it. Remember what happened with the Gaunt ring?"
"Huh," Sirius said. "Y'know, there were strangely few charms protecting it. Besides, I don't quite think it's my style. Too simple. I'd want at least two more sapphires."
Regulus was about to retort something back to him when he heard something again.
Footsteps. Not Sirius'. Multiple of them.
"Spread out," said a voice. Authoritative. Familiar. "They're still in here."
Potter, Regulus mouthed. Sirius' mouth, on the other hand, set itself into a hard line.
We need a way out of this room, Regulus thought. A way out from this room to somewhere where we can apparate that no one else can find. A trap door that will disappear as we go through it.
The door appeared in front of his feet.
"Come on," Regulus whispered, pulling at his brother's immobile arm. "We've got to go."
"There!" someone yelled excitedly a few aisles over. Regulus rolled his eyes. Didn't the Aurors know any better?
The sound seemed to jolt Sirius back to the situation at hand, at least, as Sirius' head perked up like a dog that smelled something foreign. "I'll follow you," he said.
Regulus nodded, and dropped his body down the trap door.
The passage below the trap door went on seemingly without an end. No light nor even sound entered there, and Regulus was aware of his own breath, his brother's breath, and their footsteps echoing through the walls. They creeped him out in a way more than the prospect of going to Hogwarts did. He reminded himself that he ought to trust the magic behind the Room of Requirements. At least no one seemed to be following them; he would've heard them.
"What is this?" Sirius wondered aloud.
"It's a passageway. I asked the room to let us go somewhere where we could apparate."
"Oh," Sirius said. And then, seconds later: "doesn't that mean that we can already apparate out of here?"
Damnations. Sometimes the simplemindedness of his brother thwarted whatever logic and experience would teach any reasonable man.
"Let's try that," he conceded, seemingly neutral.
Within seconds of each other, they apparated back to the living room of the Wymond Manor. The large wolf looked up from her place by the fireside, bleary-eyed and indifferent. The cubs, on the other hand, were as excitable as ever, and ran toward Sirius with a gusto that no level-headed creature should ever show toward his older brother.
"Hi, Snuffles, Skittles," Sirius cooed at them. "Look at you. You've already grown bigger."
"We saw them two hours ago," Regulus said. Sirius' eyebrow went up.
"Has it been only that long? Blimey." And then, his face began to crumble. "Shit."
Regulus had to agree with that expression. "Which part?" he asked.
"James was there." Sirius shook his head. "You reckon it was Moony?"
Regulus rubbed his face tiredly. "Yeah. Dumbledore thought as much."
"Dumbledore?!" At Sirius' surprised expression, Regulus gave a brief account of what'd happened on his end.
"Merlin's beard soggy pants," Sirius said, looking at the vial that Regulus handed him. "We'll need a pensieve."
"After sleep," Regulus added, noting that his brother's swearing skills were quickly deteriorating as the adrenaline of the covert mission wore off. But Sirius shook his head.
"No, Reg. Moony contacted James, to tell him that—damn it. I thought he believed us."
"It's possible that he did," Regulus said slowly. "But that might not help us anyway. He said that the job should be up to the Aurors, not a former Death Eater. I imagine that his point would convince any reasonable juror."
"Shit. Shit. Shit. Moony's a witness, Reg. He saw you. Now James knows for sure that you're alive." Sirius began to pace around, and then, suddenly, scooped down to cover Skittles' ears.
"You did not hear me use those naughty words," he said sternly to the cub. "You do not know the meaning of those words."
The cub licked his hand excitedly.
"We could Confound the entire litter," Regulus suggested wryly.
"Bad idea," Sirius said. "They'll bite everything and make a mess out of this place for a month if we do."
"That sounds like you have personal experience."
Sirius gave him a significant look.
"I'm not going to ask."
"Some other time. When there's more time." Sirius sat down, looking very, very tired.
"I thought we had all the time in the world, according to you."
"I thought we did, Reg. But in that world, Moony believed us."
"You mean, Lupin would believe you."
Sirius bit the inside of his cheeks, looking scarily like Walburga Black when she was dissatisfied but didn't want to say anything.
"They'll be actively after us," Regulus continued. "Now they've got proof. We've got to get a move on."
"Why couldn't we just—get along? Yeah, I know, the War, it was horrible. But it's—no one's dying anymore, so why can't we just be better, now that there's no reason to be bad?"
Regulus sighed. Seeing the image of himself in the mirror tormented him every morning. Sirius—would not understand. "It's hard to let go of old habits, Sirius."
Sirius didn't answer.
"Let's go to sleep," Regulus suggested. "We'll think better in the morning."
But he'd have to see himself in the mirror again.
"You go ahead. I'll keep watch."
Regulus raised his eyebrows.
"This place—" Sirius said, gesturing at the living room— "may not be compromised now, but may be compromised soon. Who knows when the Ministry officials are going to storm in here. You go ahead, I'll keep watch."
Regulus shifted uncomfortably.
"Don't worry," Sirius said, grinning wolfishly, as if he read his mind. "I have my own ways of staying up."
