"I-it was an ac-cident!" Regulus hiccoughed, fat tears running down his cheeks.
"You were an accident!" Sirius yelled, refusing to let his own tears fall.
"B-but I-I," he stuttered, tears falling faster and words breaking off into a choked sob. Sirius stormed from the room, leaving his brother's unfinished apologies behind. "I-it was an accident," Regulus whispered to the empty room.
He sniffed loudly, wiping at his tear stained face. He sniffed again, looking down at the broken toy train. It was Sirius' favourite toy, and he always told Regulus he was too young to play with it by himself. He really hadn't meant to break it; he'd only wanted a closer look.
.oOo.
"Why don't you just throw that out?" Barty asked, frowning at the broken toy on Regulus' windowsill.
"I- I don't know how to fix it," Regulus muttered, watching the toy rather than his friend.
"You're eleven. You're too old for toys," Barty said, turning his frown onto Regulus.
"It's not mine," Regulus replied, still avoiding eye contact. "I just don't know how to fix it," he grudgingly admitted.
"Reparo," Barty said instantly. "It's a breeze."
"Oh yeah? If it's so easy, you do it," Regulus said defensively. Barty paused, looking from the toy to his friend, before shaking his head.
"No. It's not mine."
.oOo.
He held his wand in his tightly clenched fist, staring at the broken toy in trepidation. His hand shook slightly as he raised his wand, the fear of getting caught almost making him stop, but he steeled himself.
"Reparo," he said clearly, pointing his wand at the train. They first try sent the train falling to the floor, and the second and third attempts did nothing. But on the fourth try the toy mended itself, looking just as Regulus remembered it.
He grinned, dropped his wand onto his bed, and carefully picked up the toy. The walk down the corridor to Sirius' room took longer than ever before, but he was so proud of what he'd done and he didn't want to ruin it.
He didn't want to risk holding the toy with just one hand, so he pushed to door open with his shoulder, not bothering to knock.
"Get out of my room!" Sirius yelled, throwing an old textbook at Regulus. The train fell from Regulus' hands, breaking again as it hit the floor. Regulus could feel the tears already stinging his eyes. "What're you doing with that?" Sirius asked incredulously. "Just throw it out."
Regulus scooped up the pieces of the toy, cradling the broken train to his chest and running back to his room.
.oOo.
Sirius really did not want to be back in this house. He thought he'd seen the last of it when he was sixteen, but now he was back, and it was so much worse than he'd remembered. At least as a child he had his anger fuelling him, but now he was left alone with his memories.
He thought perhaps if he were to clear out some of the old junk they might be able to use the place for the Order meetings - at least then there would be people to distract him from his thoughts - but, standing just outside the door to his brother's old room, he was regretting his decision to start on his own.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and pushed open the door. A layer of dust covered everything, but. other than that, the room looked exactly as he remembered. Right down the the old toy train sitting on the windowsill. The paint was peeling in places, and the magic that had once made it move had long since faded, but the reparo cast by his little brother still held.
He carefully picked it up, feeling the sting of unshed tears, and carried it back to his room. He kept it in a box locked away under his bed; he didn't want the constant reminder of having to look at it every day, but he couldn't bring himself to throw it away when his brother had obviously cared enough to keep it.
.oOo.
Harry pulled out the old box, the lock - rusted and useless - gave away under his touch without the need of a key or wand.
"What's that?" Ginny asked from across the room.
"I don't know," Harry said. "I've never seen it before."
"Really? Don't you clean this place?"
"No one's really been here since the Order," he said, attention mostly on the box. He pushed up the lid, hinges squeaking in protest, to reveal nothing but an old toy train. "It's just a toy," he said, sounding disappointed even to himself. "Why would he keep this?"
"I don't know, it's kinda cute," Ginny said. "Maybe-"
"Mine!" Their son interrupted, already grabbing for the toy.
"James, I don't think-" Ginny began, but was interrupted once again.
"Let him have it, Ginny," Harry said, eyes still on the box. He pulled out a faded photograph, previously hidden under the train, and tucked it into his wallet without showing Ginny.
.oOo.
There was a faded photograph on the mantel, though someone had obviously cared enough to buy a new frame for it. Two boys - neither looking older than five - were giving almost identical grins to the camera. Between them was a toy train, obviously new.
And now, nearing fifty years later, a similar scene was being acted out by two different boys.
A/N - Okay, so I did the (questionable) maths, and it's actually closer to 45 years later, but I thought it read better as 50.