Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe, it belongs to J.K. Rowling.
AN: Ah yes, Chap 2. For those who've read this before and remember it's original format, this one was also known as: Where are the Page Breaks At?
Chapter 2: The Mysterious Regulus Black
For a moment the boy stared right back at him, his eyes unfocused. Then seeming to gather his wits, he sprang off the older man, mortified. He staggered to his feet swaying slightly, his white face becoming tinged with pink.
"I-I am very sorry, sir. I apologize for my thoughtlessness. I just-well I was-"
Sirius remained mute his eyes still rooted to the other's. At another time, a lifetime ago, he may have found this hilarious. A flustered Regulus was a rare sight to see, but now…
Flashes of memory passed through Sirius's mind.
A brother, a friend, a fellow little prankster who used to idolize him, toy broomsticks, stupid arguments, stolen cookies, different opinions, different houses, more arguments, falling out, disdain, emptiness, a desperate look in his eyes—asking for him to understand. He didn't and turned him away. He walked away. That was the last time he saw him. A letter, a funeral he didn't attend, a gravestone with a date that was far too early, a portrait, and a nameplate hanging in a room he could hardly bare to enter…and…
His hand reached into his pocket and clasped the object that hid there.
So it was here too? Who knew objects could travel through time and...death? Though he supposed he should be thankful, that same principle was probably what allowed his clothes to travel as well. It was one thing to fall into Knockturn Alley, it was quite another to land there naked.
It was small luck, kind luck, that helped one out in the grandest schemes.
But enough digression, his fingers clenched the small book hidden in his pocket. It was a small black book trimmed in silver; Reggie's book or rather Reggie's journal, one he'd had since childhood. He'd found it by chance.
For some months prior to his…death, certain house guests were determined to change Grimmauld as much as possible.
Mrs. Weasley, a rather nosy woman, had wanted to barge into Reggie's room and dismantle it. She insisted that such a room could be used as another guest room or a filing room or something practical for the Order. It made sense, and the others agreed. But he didn't want anyone in there.
He denied them, saying that Regulus' room was booby trapped, which it was, but only the closet...or so he thought. That had silenced everyone, after all Regulus was the dreaded Death Eater. Who knew what sort of Dark Arts hexes he'd conjured? Though if Sirius had to guess on it, he'd wager that the spells were probably more scare-tactics than anything else.
Regulus wasn't Bellatrix.
After that discussion, he hadn't thought much of it. He had believed he'd clearly marked his brother's room as safely off limits…until he'd found her in it one afternoon; haphazardly emptying his brother's dresser into sagging cardboard boxes. She didn't notice Sirius creep up, just continued flinging his brother's things in armfuls—dumping them carelessly, as if they didn't mean anything—like their owner didn't matter.
He's still not exactly sure what he said that day, but certain that there were quite a few swears uttered. He remembered Molly Weasley's face going white, going red, and then going white again as she gave up the argument and fled like a frightened mouse. Leaving Sirius standing in his brother's room, with everything in disarray; for a moment, Sirius glanced around the room in devastation.
The Slytherin banners set in an attempt to challenge Sirius in his rebellious teenage years had been taken down and set in a corner along with the bed covers and sheets. Pictures were down from their respected spots in a pile on the stripped bed. And Reggie's broom lay tossed on the floor by the closet door.
Sacrilege.
Sirius immediately started toward it, his brother would have been mortally offended by such a sight. Reggie loved Quidditch. Sirius' hand enclosed around the broom and life crashed over him. What did it matter? This room would never be used again. It wasn't like Reggie was coming back. And why should that matter, he was a little monster. A Slytherin. A Death Eater: evil and corrupt through and through. Spewing nonsense about Pureblood supremacy and genocide. Nothing here worth remembering. No one worth protecting. Or mourning.
He should let Molly empty it. Get rid of it all. Every piece. He kept hold of the broom, much too small for him but perfect for Reggie, always had been...would always be the Little brother. He set the broom carefully on the bed and began straightening the room.
First, the pictures; filled with family members. It took most of his will power not to break the ones with Bellatrix and Narcissa. There were some with Father and Mother, a few with a couple of Slytherins he didn't recognize and…one of him and Reggie together. He held that one for a long time.
The significance overwhelmed him. Sirius Black had been burned off the family tree, every portrait destroyed (save those in his room). Yet, there it was. He opened the frame carefully, extracted the photo and glanced at the back. In a childish scrawl (one that would later become so formal and looping that Sirius wouldn't be able to read it anymore) was written:
Siri and Me
A few hours later and Reggie's room was almost back to order. He'd managed to fill up the first two dresser drawers. It was taking a longer time because he was forced to refold everything. He normally didn't bother with his own wardrobe, but these things were Reggie's and Reggie was always neat about these sorts of matters. He had just pulled out an armful when something landed with a clack.
He glanced down and noticed a small black book. One that was awfully familiar. He set the clothes on the bed and reached for the book. He opened it. Empty. Something between relief and disappointment filled him. He glanced around the room before pulling out his wand.
He tapped it. "Reveal! Obscuris Liftus!" Nothing. "Toujours Pur?" He waited and was shocked when nothing occurred. He then whispered, "Slytherin is the best…Sirius is a prat…Gryffindorks." He sighed. Nothing came to mind.
What sort of password would Reggie use? Probably something so simple you'd overlook it. Or something so incongruous with his character you'd never guess it. Reggie was clever like that. Maybe he was like Dumbledore and had used a sweet, "Bertie Botts, Droobles, cockroach clusters, cookies, cake, parfait…" He thought hard of all the parties he'd attended: "mousse, sundaes, marble, vanilla wine cream puffs, cheesecake, apple cinnamon sticks, jello..." He was running out, he sighed, "Pretzels."
He looked down in defeat:
Dear Diary,
Siri gave you to me cause its my birthday and he says if i want to be a good story maker I should write my stories down. Says my thoughts are interesting. Don't know bout that. Bella snorted when he said it. But Bella isn't very nice. Siri doesn't like her. I don't really either. But she's family. I wish she didn't pick on me cause that makes Siri mad, I think that's why she does it though. Mummy gets really mad when they fight, cause your not sposed to hit girls. I told her once that it ok cause Bella wasn't really a girl, girls don't laugh like monsters. I got sent to bed without supper but Siri snuck me some…
"Sir? Sir? Are you alright? I hope I didn't addle your brains with that fall. Sir?!"
Sirius glanced at the boy and his mouth went slack. What could he possibly say to this person, who he'd left in anger decades ago? To this ghost, this memory, this Reggie. Maybe this was Hell after all?
"Mister!" The boy gave his shoulder a shove. "You alright?"
His throat had dried up, before this specter. He gave a dumb nod and the boy looked skeptical.
Sirius slowly straightened and groaned; it'd figure he'd land right in a puddle.
The boy noticed and flushed. "I'm sorry, if you want I can have your robes cleaned. I've good standing with Madam Malkin's shop. We could travel there and-"
"S'fine," Sirius muttered glancing at the boy. The boy fidgeted a bit under the piercing gaze.
"What were you running from?" Sirius asked, his heart hammering in his chest-his mind trying to make sense of it all.
The boy's eyebrows arched in surprise. "I'm not running from anything," the boy snapped defensively.
Sirius felt a slight smile quirk his lips.
The boy shrugged a shoulder. "I was hurrying. There's a difference."
"Of course."
"What of you? Skulking about in weather like this?"
Sirius let out a bark of laughter. "And your behavior is any different?"
"I'm a Black. I can go anywhere I wish. My family is-"
"You want a drink?" flew from the elder Black's lips before he could stop himself. What a strange comment from a complete stranger? The teen would probably think he was some creep. After all you don't just waltz up to someone and-
The boy glanced at him suspiciously, sizing him up before saying, "Alright. Sounds good. Leaky Cauldron, right?"
Sirius gaped at the kid and then muttered a quiet, "Yeah."
One awkward walk later, where Sirius kept sneaking glances at the figure from his past (and which Regulus mercifully ignored), they arrived.
For a moment, the boy stood before the window, staring nonplussed at a poster of Kissing Cupids and a caption reading: 'looking for that special someone who'll make your magic spark? Come and set an interview with the capable Love Potion Committee No. 9. We'll set you with a love that will last a lifetime.'
Regulus let out a groan of exasperation. "Really now, that's all a farce. You know they're just enchanting people for a date or two. It's funny how the ministry thinks that's all in good fun and the Imperius Curse is shameful." He turned to Sirius. "If nothing else you think they'd have some stipulations about false advertising."
They entered the pub and sat at a small table, where Tom quickly greeted them.
"Coffee."
"Tea and a bagel, please."
The bald innkeeper sped off to fulfill their orders.
Regulus drummed his fingers on the table while looking around the pub. He noted several pink streamers hanging awkwardly throughout the room. He sighed in exasperation. He fidgeted a moment, taking a glance at the elder man—a man who probably looked so frightfully familiar that it was driving him mad.
In fact, it was probably the man's eerie familiarity that had led him to agree to this drink.
Quite suddenly, he was babbling, "Stupid holiday drives everyone bonkers; you should see what those Marauders have done. It's not even the 14th yet and they've messed with the Great Hall. The bloody ceiling keeps pouring these hard muggle candies. They're shaped like hearts, taste like chalk, and have stupid messages. B mine and all that rubbish."
Yes, back at Hogwarts there were candy hearts falling from the ceiling which Regulus found rather unpleasant as he'd already had one land in his eye twice.
Something began to gnaw at Sirius. It was February. And Regulus was here…in Knockturn Alley. It was February.
Tom returned and set their items down. Regulus thanked him with a cold courtesy, inspired by years of their family's stiff rules.
"It's February" Sirius stated flatly.
"It is. The 12th, actually."
"Year?"
At this Regulus raised an incredulous eyebrow but answered nonetheless, "1977, what did you think it was? You been spending the last two months sodding drunk?"
1977! He was…in the past?! That blasted veil had chucked him into the past!
Then…here…Lily and James were still alive! The tragedy in Godric's Hollow had not yet come! That lousy, no-good, evil, filthy rat could still be dealt with. With his knowledge he could right everything! Everything!
"Sir, do you have some sort of condition I should be aware of?" came a dry cold voice.
Sirius refocused his gaze on his younger brother. Reggie, he thought, Reggie, there's even hope for you. Fourteen, Reggie was just fourteen years old. His birthday wasn't for a few more months. And even then, it was still a whole year before he joined Voldemort's ranks.
"Sir?" The boy waved a hand over the elder Black's face.
Wait a minute, if he was still a student then why was here. "Why aren't you in school?"
"Does it really matter?"
"Yeah, it does."
"I was visiting my mother."
"Why?"
Regulus arched an eyebrow. "Oh, I don't know. Perhaps my family inspired some intrinsic loyalty within me. Are you another School Governor in disguise? I believe I already sent a letter explaining my reasons."
"No, I'm not a School Governor snitching on Fourth Years. I'm not from Hogwarts."
Regulus' eyes narrowed. "I never said I went there….how do you know what year I am?"
For a moment there was panic, and then he smoothly replied, "Who wouldn't know the Black Family and its whereabouts?"
Regulus gave a wry smile. "Are we being accused again? I swear if your ministry brings us to trial one more time on false testimony and artificial evidence, I'm filing harassment, sir."
Sirius then watched in surprise as Regulus crammed the bagel into his mouth without seemingly tasting it. Their parents would have been in horror at that breach of manners.
"Thank you for the breakfast. I'll be on my way."
"I'm not with the ministry," Sirius assured. "You're safe with me."
The boy froze and scrutinized him. "And just…just why should I believe you?"
"Trust me."
"Then what side?" he demanded softly, his shoulders tensing.
"What?"
"What branch?"
"I'm not-"
"Lies. I'd know those eyes anywhere. They're a recurring family trait."
Sirius sighed racking his brain for a clever answer; Regulus was always a crafty one.
"A shady one," his connection to the Blacks lay in scorched darkness. That insinuation was plausible, following his exile...he wasn't legitimate family anymore.
Regulus gave a nod and sat back down; illegitimacy was a flaw that occurred with disappointing frequency in all old families. "How close?"
At this, Sirius glanced at him. Regulus held his gaze with stony grey irises.
"Leagues apart."
Regulus nodded again, but this time his shoulders eased.
"Did you always know of your relation or is this a recent discovery?"
Sirius gave a wry smile. "Oh I always knew, but I was desperate to deny it."
Again Regulus' eyebrows arched in surprise. "We're the most ancient and noble house, why wouldn't you want connection with it?"
Sirius shrugged. "Never appealed to me."
"Until now," the boy bit out and already he was tensing up again.
God, Sirius thought, that boy was wound up far too tight. He decided that maybe a bit of truth would diffuse the situation.
"You look my younger brother. He…he died years back and seeing you-"
"-was like seeing a ghost," the boy offered. Yes, he knew that feeling. This man looked awfully similar to…
"Exactly," Sirius smiled grimly.
Sirius paid the tab, despite the younger Black's insistence that he could take it. The two then re-entered Diagon Alley.
'You're safe with me.' It was clear that phrase had disturbed Regulus. It was something-something Sirius used to tell him whenever they were mischief-making or he was scared. He stole another glance at the man.
"Anything you're looking for particularly?" the boy drawled.
"Actually, a two-way mirror." He wasn't sure how powerful those objects were, they probably couldn't break through time, but…maybe if he could tweak one a bit…
If there was even the slightest chance he could contact Harry…he had to try.
Regulus nodded agreeably, "Yes, those are dreadfully useful objects."
"How about you?"
The younger Black shrugged. "Probably look at some broomsticks or something."
A few hours passed as they traipsed about in an awkward companionship, swapping questions that could be answered in monosyllabic words.
Sirius didn't know why his kid brother kept hanging about. It was obvious that he didn't want to be around him. And yet, he persisted in trying.
Eventually, the boy remarked that he had to get home. Sirius offered to escort him. The boy could have easily turned him away, but he nodded and the two set off.
Number 12 Grimmauld Place looked just as uninviting as ever.
"Would you like to stay for lunch?"
His first impulse was hell no; he didn't want to enter that horrid house. But…the boy was being sincere.
He practically had to break his jaw in order to say, "Yes, please."
They stepped over the threshold and Sirius had to suppress a shiver. The house was exactly as he remembered; dark furnishings and tapestries and traces of green everywhere.
Regulus took their coats and set them on the rack before striding down the hallway.
"Kreacher!" he commanded and there was a pop! "We've a guest, see to his needs. I need to go see Mother for a moment." With that the boy disappeared up a flight of stairs.
"Does the guest need Kreacher's aid?" the house elf inquired. Sirius felt his lip curling and he suppressed a violent need to kick the thing away.
It led him to the dining room where he awkwardly waited for his brother to return.
Regulus entered the room unaccompanied and Sirius blinked in surprise. His old bat of a mum, always came down to entertain. Always. Tradition dictated it so.
Regulus offered a polite smile. "What would you prefer to eat?"
"Um." That was also unexpected. A guest didn't often get to choose their meal at their house. Mother planned a menu every day. "Something hot. Maybe tomato soup?"
Regulus nodded. "Kreacher, you heard our guest. I'll have some too." With a bow, the house elf scurried to the kitchen.
"Why exactly are you at home?"
"You really don't deserve to know, but since you are…family...no matter how distant. I'll tell you this much. Certain events have transpired causing a shift in the familial roles. I am now Head of the Black House."
Sirius nodded slowly. That was right. 1977, Orion had already been incarcerated. Though for what exactly, he wasn't sure. He'd left their homestead when he was nearly sixteen and he didn't opened any of the mail they sent him...until they finally stopped bothering to try.
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"I'm not," Regulus said briskly, taking a drink from his goblet. "Hopefully, I will be able to restore our family's values. And if he does get to return maybe…maybe he'll have his head on straight again."
They talked about meaningless things as they sipped their soups. Like the weather and certain bands. And throughout the meal, the beginnings of a crazy plan began to take root in Sirius' brain.
"What is it you do exactly?" Regulus inquired.
He had approximately fourteen hours to get everything in order.
"I'm part of a small firm. It works to remove magical instances from muggle texts. We're hoping for the Ministry to welcome us as another branch."
"Hmm."
It wouldn't be easy. But if he could somehow pull it off.
"Well, I hope your business goes well," Regulus offered as he walked him to the door.
"Thanks."
"It might not mean anything to you. But…well…if you do face any troubles, you can call on me. I'll do my best to aid you as I may."
Sirius gave a startled look.
Regulus shrugged. "Family is family. If we don't watch out for one another who will?"
Sirius gave a hollow "thanks" and walked down the stone steps. He glanced back at the slight boy. His brother looked so small and pale standing alone at the door frame. But he was standing straight, with a grave regal sort of air. Like one too young, with a burden too great. Like a captain of a sinking ship.
Sirius gave a wave and was surprised when the boy returned it before heading back into the house.
Perhaps his "death" was a miracle in disguise. He could save Lily and James, give Harry a better life, help defeat Voldemort, and maybe…he could save Reggie too.
This was quite possibly the stupidest idea he'd ever had. It was right up there with the almost killing Snape one and ruining Lupin's life forever.
He glanced at his reflection in a nearby puddle. Nervously, he ran a hand through his now short curly blonde hair. It had taken most of the day to gather the necessary items needed, from ingredients to wardrobe. It had taken all the galleons that he'd had in his pocket. Lupin had given him the money for emergency purposes, he'd have been piping mad to learn that it went to Fourth Year school supplies.
But Sirius was pleased with his results; a fourteen year old boy was staring back at him with distinctly dark hazel eyes. Thank goodness, he was such a genius at spell-casting. Altering one's appearance was tricky business.
He sped up his pace, dragging his trunk behind him and walking through the middle divider with haste.
He glanced at the Hogwarts Express in all its glory and he could feel ghostly memories of better times.
There, standing mere feet away from the train, was his brother. He glanced about; again his dear old mum was absent. Odd.
He slowly approached his younger brother. This would be the ultimate test.
"Excuse me, I don't mean to be rude, but I'm new and before I board this train—it is bound for Hogwarts, correct?"
Regulus looked over the boy. "You weren't on the train before."
"No, I'm a very recent transfer. With the Dark Lord gaining power, Durmstrang seemed a dangerous place; so I'm finishing my last few years at Hogwarts." He shrugged a shoulder. "It seemed prudent."
Regulus was still for a moment, processing the information before nodding. "I can understand that. It's one thing to support a cause, quite another to be swept away by it, hmm?"
Sirius gave a solemn nod.
Regulus turned to face him and as etiquette dictated, he gave a short bow, offered a hand and announced, "My name is Black. Regulus Black, second son of Orion and Walburga Black of the prestigious House of Black. I am pleased to make your acquaintance."
Sirius mimicked the movements and was certain he was terribly rusty. "My name is Salem Rosting. Only child of Brutus and Matilda Rosting. Deceased. Half-Blood."
Regulus glanced at him. "I'm unfamiliar with your surname."
Salem fidgeted. "My family isn't very well known. We were content living in the country away from it all. My parents were caught in a raid and they…well…"
"I understand," Regulus stated with a carefully constructed expression of well-measured compassion. "These are dangerous times, where no one is safe. Not even the purest of families. Come, I'll introduce you to the others."
It felt strange being led by Regulus. He was so used to Reggie being the tag-a-long.
They walked down four cars before Regulus stopped and sharply rapped on a compartment three times. The door slid open several inches and a pair of murky brown eyes peered out.
"Oi Reggie, we were wondering when you'd arrive. You stop to smell the roses?"
"You're hilarious, now open the door," Regulus deadpanned. "And don't call me Reggie."
They opened the door and the younger Black swept inside. Salem hesitated a moment, feeling that he was entering enemy territory. He caught sight of a group of boys around Reggie's age.
"Whoa whoa, Black. Who's the baggage?" asked the boy who'd opened the door. He had a flat face with a pug-like expression. His dark hair was kept short and his structure was strong but lacked grace.
"Rostings. Half-blood. Transfer student from Durmstrang. I invited him."
"Transfer student, huh? You runnin' from the big bad Dark Lord," sneered the same boy.
"Let him alone Rabs. You're hardly one to talk, as I seem to recall you having nightmares about him."
"Reg!"
"Rostings meet Rabastan Lestrange. He's brother to Rodolphus Lestrange who married my cousin Bellatrix. The one by the window is Cyrus Flint. The boy to the left is Terrance Wilkes. And that joker sitting on the floor, like an imbecile, is Barty Crouch. Lestrange is a brute and one of Slytherin's Quidditch Team beaters. Flint's the Captain of said team. Wilkes is alright. And Barty's insane. There are some more people in the next three compartments, but they don't welcome newcomers even when they're in the best of moods. So it'd be best if you stayed here...if you want company that's somewhat less likely to hex you."
The boy on the floor, Barty, began giggling before erupting in a singsong voice: "Saint Reggie the peacemaker. So calm, and cold and mellow. Disgustingly well-mannered fellow. I really can't stand-"
"Stuff it, Barty," Flint snapped, his dark black eyes glinting. His tight dark curls bounced manically as he jerked his head in the other boy's direction. "I'm not putting up with you for this train ride, if you're going to act up like that."
Barty just started giggling, his straw hair sliding across his face as he jerked about.
Salem felt his stomach flip. Barty Crouch Jr., the creep who'd murdered his own father, tried to kill a bunch of children, and was hopelessly devoted to Voldemort? Damn it, Reggie, why did you hang out with these tossers?
Salem resolved himself for a rough ride and ruefully placed his trunk up into the storage unit.
Regulus attempted to do the same.
The boys' snickers turned to jeers on Regulus's third try. Regulus scowled and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like: "Life's never easy when you're short."
Salem began to move to help him, but was elbowed by Flint.
"God, you're such a waif, Reg," Lestrange sneered from the sidelines.
"Well, what can you expect of the little prince?" Flint laughed. "Here, your highness," and with an easy one handed push, Flint had the trunk up in the storage compartment.
Regulus shrugged indifferently. "Thank you, humble Steward." And he went to sit next to Salem.
Flint scowled and an eruption of mean laughter sounded.
Salem began thumping his head against the train wall in boredom. This had to have been one of the worst train rides of his life. How did Reggie put up with this?
He glanced at his brother who was reading a book he'd procured from a pocket. Ahh, by escaping reality.
Salem nudged Regulus' shoulder. "Is it any good?"
Regulus glanced at him bewildered until Salem indicated the book. "Er, actually yes, not bad at all. It's a fictional account of the Bermuda Triangle Battle of 1578, you know, since no one really knows what happened and-"
"BORING!" Lestrange boomed and reached over, ripping the book from Regulus's hands.
"Rabastan, give it back."
Lestrange threw it to Flint, who tossed it to Barty, who chucked it back to Lestrange.
"Such rubbish, Reg. If your mum knew you were indulging in such nonsense, she'd have your hide. Yep, I'm going to do you a favor." With a free hand he began unbolting the window.
"Stop it!" Regulus yelled while trying to wrestle the book out of the other's grip. Which was completely futile; Reggie was far too small.
"I guess this book's final location will be unknown, like the Bermuda Triangle. How suiting."
Salem whipped out his wand. "Give. It. Back."
"Or what?" Lestrange tried to sneer but failed, looking rather nervous with a wand tip in his face.
"Or I rearrange your face, which I'm sure will probably be an improvement."
Flint tore the book away from Lestrange and tossed it back to Regulus—hitting him in the face. He glared at Salem. "Now put it away."
He didn't. Instead, he magicked two trunks down from the storage rack, grabbed Regulus by the arm, and pulled him out of the compartment.
"Wha-what are you? Where are we going? Hey!"
Salem didn't stop until they neared the very end of the train. He flicked his wand, opening the door and levitating the trunks up into storage.
He then gave Regulus a push inside. The boy landed sprawled on a seat and quickly righted himself, glaring.
"Just what do you think you're doing?" the younger Black hissed.
"Doing you a big favor," Salem answered shortly. "Those guys are gits, Regulus. Why do you put up with them?"
"It was just a book," Regulus mumbled. "It's not that important."
"It's the principle of the thing!" Salem shouted. This was what always irritated him about Reggie. The boy couldn't stand up for himself. At all. He always let himself get pushed around by Mother, Father, Bella, Cissa, Lucius…everyone! And he'd bet his life that was how he'd gotten suckered into the Death Eater ranks.
Regulus ran his fingers over the book, his eyes downcast. Very softly, he offered a "thanks."
And all of a sudden all that previous rage flooding his system, mere seconds earlier, vanished. Salem fidgeted a moment before giving a gruff, "It's alright."
They sat in awkward silence for a moment before Regulus stated, "You'll be in Gryffindor."
"What?"
"There are four houses in Hogwarts. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. You'll be in Gryffindor."
Salem stared at his brother for a moment. Where was the venom that normally dripped off every syllable of his house's name?
Regulus looked up. "That right there was brave and reckless. Those boys know a lot of curses, Rostings. They could have really-"
"Call me Salem."
"What?"
"Rostings is far too stuffy."
"Why?"
"It just sounds too formal. I'm sure even you are occasionally ruffled by your mouthful of a first name. Well, that's how I feel about my surname."
Regulus flushed, shrugged, then confessed, "Well…sometimes…but normally it's just when people mispronounce it."
"And how in the hell do they manage that?"
"Ree-jaw-liz."
"Hmm. Sounds like an Italian dish."
"Or a disease."
They caught each other's eye and both burst out laughing.
"Sheesh, people, take Astronomy."
As Salem settled back into his seat, he couldn't help but note that this was the first time in over fifteen years that he'd his brother genuinely laugh. It was a nice sound.
He then leaned forward and asked for an answer he already knew: "You like Quidditch?"
Regulus beamed. "Heh, what sort of question is that? Do Birds sing? Do Fish swim? I don't like Quidditch. I bloody love it!"
It was strange. Long ago he used to describe his brother as the most boring, close-lipped, unadventurous twit that ever roamed Hogwarts. However, as the train ride progressed and Regulus relaxed in his presence, stories began to come out. Apparently, Reggie was trying to persuade him to ask the sorting hat to be placed in his house. He assured him that just because Slytherin was full of jerks didn't mean you couldn't have fun.
"They're pretty inflexible," Regulus admitted, "but if you learn to use that rather than fight it. You can set up some pretty good pranks."
Sirius nearly choked. His brother pranking?! But what about all the scoldings he'd gotten from said brother. And the nasty bloke writing home and telling mum, who in turn sent him howlers?!
"Mind you, I've never pulled any real spectacular ones. Not like the marauders, you'll meet them soon enough. But I feel it all evens out." His eyes darted to make sure the door was closed and then he leaned forward conspiratorially. "You see, my targets are always a bit more dangerous. In my second year, it was I who turned Bella's hair green. She was visiting with a ministry official who was courting her then. Before he got cold feet. The marauders were blamed, of course. I mean, you can't expect me to own up to it when they were so conveniently there."
Salem remembered that incident quite well. But not even he deigned to think it was actually Reggie's doing.
"Still, still. The one I'm particularly fond of was when I stole Malfoy's mirror and enchanted it."
Salem was now leaning forward as well, eager to hear. "What did you do to it?"
Regulus was now grinning from ear to ear. "Now, you may or may not know Lucius Malfoy. He graduated forever ago, but his dad's a school governor and that makes him think he owns the place. So he'll show up whenever he wants and he's…how do you say…narcissistic? To the extreme? He always had this mirror that he'd whip out when he thought no one was watching to fix his hair. So late one night after everyone was asleep, I snuck into where he was staying and got it."
"And," Salem urged.
"Enchanted it to sing every time, he used it in public. I'll always cherish that moment down at the Slytherin Table when the mirror burst into that muggle song: 'I feel pretty, O so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and gay!'"
Salem fell onto the floor laughing. "Bravo, bravissimo."
Regulus took a mock bow.
"So these marauders do pranks too?"
Regulus nodded and his face took on an irritated expression. "They're real mischief-makers, they hex anyone they want whenever they want. The best you can do is try to avoid them."
The next few hours went by as the boys swapped stories. And even if Salem did have to take care editing his tales, it was still…fun. Who knew Reggie could be fun? But then a small voice at the back of his mind recalled times before Hogwarts when Reggie had been his best friend. And he didn't want to examine why that stopped.
It was evening when the train reached its destination. It was a shame. The action had an immense effect on Regulus who immediately sobered and drew stiff. They gravely donned their robes in silence.
"Come on, we've arrived at Hogwarts," Regulus announced coldly. His face composed, his posture straight.
For a moment, Salem just stared at him. This Regulus was the complete opposite of the one he'd just spent the last few hours with. Where had their good time gone?
The bullies from earlier could be heard behind them. Salem gritted his teeth; he really wanted to hex them.
"Good, they sent carriages," Regulus commented offhand. "Let's get on before they try to force us to walk."
"Speaking from experience?"
"Yes, actually."
Salem felt a rush of anger and his fists clenched. Why had he never noticed how bullied Regulus was?
As they settled, Regulus remarked, "I wish we could just leave."
The bullies were coming their way. Damn. They just couldn't escape them.
Unless…
Salem grinned, pulled out his wand and flicked it. Within moments, the coach and its thestrals were hurtling toward Hogwarts castle at breakneck speed.
Both boys were hanging on for dear life. The ride only stopped when a professor intercepted them near the entrance.
"What on earth do you boys think you're doing?! Do you have any idea the sort of damage you could have inflic-"
"We're terribly sorry about the inconvenience, Professor. But these thestrals must not have been properly trained. We sat down and the coach went out of control. However, if their behavior is somehow our fault, we give our apology and will accept a detention no matter how grossly unjust."
Salem watched, amused, as the professor went quite rigid.
"I'll see into the matter."
"I thank you, ma'am."
The round-shouldered woman then went to scold the next coming carriage where a friendly game of "ignite your housemate" was taking place.
"Quite a speech. I'm surprised you managed to give it while in that position."
At some point Regulus had been thrown from his seat and was now peering up at him from the floor. But he wasn't glaring. He was laughing lightly. He shook his head. "Salem, you're really weird."
"I try."
As they walked through the Entrance Hall, Regulus informed him "You'll need to be sorted as soon as possible. I can escort you to the Headmaster's office."
"Such a good prince, looking out for the citizens of his kingdom," gushed Flint. Apparently, the Slytherins had caught up.
Rabastan pretended to wipe off a tear and Barty started up with his "Saint Reggie" song.
"Don't go gallivanting on any quests for too long! Little Prince has to be safe asleep when his bedtime comes, or else we'll be writing to his dearest mummy!"
When at last their obnoxious laughter had melted away and they were far out of sight, Reggie sighed, "I hate them."
"I don't blame you."
Reggie blanched and looked wildly at Salem. "I-I said that aloud, didn't I?"
Salem smirked. "And like I said, Don't. Blame. You."
Reggie gave an uneasy smile and beckoned Salem to follow him. It was rather humorous; like Salem needed to be told where the Headmaster's office was.
"Don't worry. I'm certain the headmaster will act civilly. He's always cordial. Just state your business and I'm sure he'll aid you. Don't be offset by his nature. He's rather odd, but that's just the way he is."
They now stood before the great eagle sculpture. Regulus stepped forward, cleared his throat loudly, and enunciated, "Licorice Wands."
The sculpture leapt aside. Salem wanted to ask just how Reggie knew the password but found himself being pushed up the spiral staircase.
When they reached the Headmaster's Office, Regulus politely knocked on the door. Salem would've just burst in, like old times.
"You may enter," came the familiar tone of Dumbledore.
"Good evening, Headmaster. We hate to be of inconvenience, but my friend here is in need of assistance. Salem Rostings is a transfer from Durmstrang. He wishes to finish his years here. I know all students require a House, so…I brought him here to see you...sir."
"I thank you for your courtesy, Mr. Black. Now if you'd excuse us." Regulus nodded and began to leave when Dumbledore stated, "And Regulus, remember what I discussed with you." The younger Black paused for a moment then nodded and exited the room.
There was a moment of silence before the headmaster smiled. "Hello, Sirius."
"Wait, what? How? How did you know?"
Dumbledore just smiled, his blue eyes twinkling and muttered something like the "joys of legilimens."
"I'm not…from this time."
"I know. Which is why I'll ask you to maintain that form."
Sirius nodded. "I have information, sir. A great deal." His mind buzzed with the amount. He knew countless Death Eaters, crimes…Wormtail. He felt anger pulsate through his blood.
"And are these guilty parties...guilty? We cannot punish those who are still as of yet innocent."
As if people like Bellatrix were ever really innocent. Sirius sneered, "So you'll just let them commit atrocities?"
"In the end of all things, the choices we make in this life, are our own. And it is those choices…the ones we make alone in our darkest hour that define who we are."
This pearl of wisdom hardly satiated a fuming Sirius.
"I'll discuss the matter more in depth at a later date," Dumbledore conceded. "In the meantime, I would suggest inactivity. Tampering with the timeline could produce dire effects."
"I need to get back to my own time," Sirius growled.
Dumbledore smiled. "Well, you've one thing in your favor. The future is far easier to wait for than the past."
"Just why can't we discuss everything now?" Sirius demanded.
"I need to look into some things. Research. I might speak to a few members of the Order and see if anything concerning this has been foretold in the Hall of Prophecy. And…I don't want young Mr. Black to be left waiting outside my office all night. It's rather cold and your brother has a delicate constitution. I do fear he competes with Remus with the amount of time he's spent in the Hospital Wing."
Sirius looked up in surprise, he didn't know that. He was beginning to feel that there were a lot of things he didn't know about his brother. But if it were true that his brother was in the infirmary a lot, why didn't Remus ever mention it? Probably because you were still in your 'I hate all Blacks' phase and you kept spouting off how much you hated the snot-nosed brat, a snide voice answered.
Sirius sighed and shook some blonde curls out of his face.
"Well, I suppose we know which house you belong in," Dumbledore remarked.
Sirius began to nod and then thought back to the boy waiting outside the office.
"So off to Gryfin-"
"Dumbledore, is it possible that I could go to another house?"
Salem descended the stairs, feeling apprehensive. And there was Reggie waiting at the bottom of the stairs.
"Well, Gryffindor, right?"
"Nope."
"Ravenclaw?"
"Wrong again."
"Oh. OH! Er…I'm um...really sorry. I mean well, you'll probably do well there. They're pretty friendly at least. I'll deny it here at Hogwarts, but some of them are alright. I mean, I've known Der-"
"Wait, what?"
Regulus gave a sympathetic look. "You're in Hufflepuff."
"No, I'm not! I'm… I'm in-" Salem gave a forced grin. "-Slytherin."
Regulus blinked. "Really?"
"Yep!"
"Wicked! What are your classes?"
"Right, about that. I told the Headmaster that you were the only one I'd really met. So, he put me in all your classes. Sorry, you're probably going to get sick of me."
Regulus dismissed it. "I've survived in Slytherin for four years. There's no housemate I can't endure. I'd be glad to show you around. In fact, what would you like first? The Grand Hall or the Common Room?"
"Common Room. I'm kind of tired."
"Me too. Once we're there, I'll have a house elf bring us something to eat."
Several staircases later, they finally reached the dungeons.
Regulus stood before a cold stone wall and declared, "Blue Blood."
Salem sighed, that would be the sort of password they'd use. The walls spread and the two Slytherins entered, though the taller one looked distinctly reluctant.
Salem shivered as a draft hit him.
Regulus gave him an understanding look.
"I know. It's bloody cold. Stupid dungeon. No matter how blazing a fire they light, our common room is always icy." Regulus shivered. "You watch I'll catch pneumonia before the month is over."
"I don't know," Salem replied, pulling his robes closer about himself. "I might give you a run for your money."
"Heh, I guess this would be an appropriate time to tell you that: our dormitory is downstairs."
Salem paled. "Farther down than this?"
Regulus smiled. "Colder too."
They found that their luggage had already been brought down. Regulus rummaged through his things.
"I really should've emptied it before I left," he confessed. He reached in and pulled out a snow globe with careful fingers and tutted, "A world of glass can only hope to break. I'll never understand why people bother to make such things. Still, I suppose I should be grateful for any gift no matter how useless."
Salem said nothing and didn't comment on the irony when Regulus placed the trinket on his nightstand.
While scouring the bottom of the trunk, Regulus grasped his paintbrush and wondered aloud if he should paint something later in the week.
Salem didn't really recall him having any talent at that though.
Regulus then answered his own question when he grumbled that he didn't have that kind of time to waste. Or any paint left.
And Salem got the distinct feeling that Regulus was a rather lonely figure and completely oblivious to the fact that he'd been talking to himself...and answering.
He pulled a few robes out of the trunk and went about hanging them with the rest of his clothes to avoid wrinkles.
When he was done, arranging and rearranging, he snapped his fingers and a house elf appear.
"Allo, Honi."
"Greetings, Mister Black, sir," a shy tanned house elf offered. "How I be serving you?"
"My friend and I would like something to eat, please. I would like a roast beef sandwich and Salem would like…"
"Some fried chicken." He'd spent too much time as Snuffles and now had a permanent love of poultry...and playing with frisbees.
"Yes." Regulus clapped his hands decisively. "So that will be one roast beef sandwich, three fried chicken legs, two butterbeers and a basket of rolls please."
Honi nodded and Regulus beamed, "Thank you, Honi. Give the other house elves my regards."
Except...Salem glanced at Regulus...Hogwarts's kitchen pantry didn't provide butterbeer. Was she going to stop by the village?
She curtsied and gave a little smile, "Of course, Mister Black." And with a pop she was gone.
"You on good standing with the house elves then?"
"Naturally. They're very helpful you know. Really go out of their way. I mean, the least you can do is appreciate them. Gratefulness is all they really want. It's all anyone really wants."
Salem awoke to find the Boys' Dormitory empty. He quickly dressed and clumsily climbed the stairs into the common room.
"He rises. I was just debating on whether or not to rouse you," chuckled Regulus from a satin green chintz chair near the fire.
"Time?" he groggily inquired.
"'Bout time to go actually. I thought about getting you something to eat, but I really didn't know what you'd like. I've half a bagel left if you're interested."
Salem yawned, "Alright."
Regulus handed it to him. "I'll go grab your supplies. It's Double Potions today and then the rest of the day is off because of…Valentine's Day."
Salem smirked. "You really don't like this holiday do you?"
"Of course not, I know my bro-that the marauders will be up to something! They go out of their way on holidays. You mark my words, there's no way you and I are getting out of this day without several pranks."
Potion's class was nearing its end and Salem was bored out of his mind. Slughorn's class was just as dismal as he'd remembered it to be. And what was really irritating was that Reggie kept second-guessing his measurements.
At one point Salem turned to him and told him to just relax, if the potion was a blunder it was a blunder. They could make it up later. He expected that to instigate a fight, but Regulus calmed down and began quipping out instructions with more authority.
It wasn't a perfect blend, but it was close enough that Slughorn gave them almost full-credit. The professor ruffled the younger Black's hair. "I see you're improving, Mister Black. Potions was always your toughest subject."
"Yes, sir," Regulus agreed placidly. Though the moment, the professor stepped away, his lips curled and he determinedly fixed his hair.
He threw a glance to Salem and whispered, "That, unfortunately, is our Head of House. Terribly pompous, useless, and shameless. Still, he does get us out of trouble or lessens it when he can. So, it'd be well in your interest to stay polite."
Salem gave a half-hearted nod. Reggie had been feeding him these kinds of tips all day.
When he'd asked why? Reggie had simply stared at him a moment before stating that "these were things all Slytherins should know and it was his duty to pass such knowledge to his fellow housemate."
He was still languidly stirring the potion when there was a pop and a quack. Salem looked down to find several Rubber Duckies floating in his cauldron. Reggie glanced to see why Salem had stopped stirring. He groaned, "That would be courtesy of the Prat."
"The what?"
"The Prat, that one over there. Looking so smug" Salem glanced to the corner and saw…himself...albeit younger.
Regulus glared at the figure, which waggled his eyebrows and grinned obnoxiously. Regulus gave him a rude gesture which Sirius swiftly returned (thankfully, the professor had missed the exchange entirely or both houses would've been docked points.)
"Ah, Mister Black," Professor Slughorn greeted. "I heard you had chore-duties today. Your detentions become increasingly more creative."
Sirius grinned. "I like to think I'm an inspiring character to behold. I see Regulus's potion is coming along."
"Oh yes," Slughorn agreed. "He is improving. Though…Sirius," Slughorn began and wrapped an arm around the elder Black. "He doesn't have quite the expertise at the subject you do."
"Well, I'm hard to follow." Sirius sent a sneering smile to his younger brother.
Regulus snorted, "He's so full of himself. Such a prat."
Salem glanced at his brother and then to his younger self. That would be one long bridge to cross built over a chasm. A fiery one.
"Yes, yes," the professor dismissed, "however, if you'd like I could perhaps tweak some of your detentions into tutoring lessons for young Regulus."
All the Blacks in the room felt their jaws drop.
"Professor, I demand the right to refuse-"
Noticing his brother's distress, Sirius just smiled. "I'll think about it."
The Professor gave the 6th year Gryffindor several parcels to deliver to the Astronomy Tower. Sirius gave an elaborate flourishing bow that made half the girls in the room giggle and swaggered out.
"Ugh. He's so ridiculous," Regulus seethed.
"You know, the potion isn't ruined. He could have really tampered with it. After all, if you heat up energy-potions they explode." Salem sighed, I'd never really hurt you, Reg. I mean, sure he'd maimed him before in their squabbles. But he never tried anything where Regulus could become horribly injured.
Regulus snorted, "Before you chalk it up to compassion, maybe you should know that he's probably just keeping himself out of Azkaban. I might be a Black and there's plenty who would like to see me gone, but manslaughter is manslaughter...and that wins you a Dementor's Kiss!"
Regulus was too absorbed in his monologue to notice Salem's shudder.
Salem was grateful that lunch had come and he couldn't help but grin as he noticed the decorations. He smiled as he reminisced. They'd even gotten Evans to help. About this time was the turning point in her and James's relationship. She was finally starting to fall for him.
Girls were giggling and boys were smiling suggestively while the staff members were shaking their heads at their students' antics and someone was…grumbling-no-swearing under his breath.
He turned to see an angry Regulus.
"I hate these bloody things," he announced thrusting a handful of candies before Salem's face. "And they're only raining over our table."
Salem had to hide a guilty smile. That one had been his idea.
"Shall I transfigure you an umbrella?"
His brother didn't get a chance to answer. For at that moment, the infamous marauders appeared with the fiery Evans in tow.
For a few minutes, Salem felt his heart glow at the sight. He saw himself, James, and Remus horsing around. His eyes narrowed on Wormtail.
"Why don't you ever send me a letter, my favorite flower?"
"Oh, I don't know-maybe because I'd head it like this: 'Dear Lizard-Breath-'"
"Yes, my ruby-haired goblin goddess?"
"What?"
"What?"
Sirius laughed, "I don't think she appreciated it, Prongs."
Evans groaned as both boys circled about her and then rolled into somersaults.
"Why on earth are you darting and dodging like that?" she griped. "You've been doing it all morning!"
"Evans, we're Secret Agents…Of Love!" Black exclaimed.
"Yeah, Lils. We need to be sneaky in delivering these notes; otherwise all the mystique will vanish," James insisted, indicating the satchels full of love-notes from various students.
Sirius nodded solemnly. "Dumbledore himself gave us this very important mission."
"Well, you look ridiculous. And you're wasting time."
"You're right, Evans." Sirius then went to stand on the table. "Attention classmates!" He pulled out a wad of envelopes. "I'm passing out Valentines. Come see if you're one of the lucky few or a complete loser. I have one for a Cassandra Smith! I've one for John Kemmings."
Following his partner-in-crime, James also jumped onto the table. "I've got a Susan Lect. A Harold Farthems and a…" His eyes widened. "Oi Pads, I think you should know about this!"
He waved a pink letter. Sirius plucked it from his mate's hand and lazily read the name.
"What the?" And then a mischievous smile stretched his face. "O Reggiekins!"
Regulus buried his head in his arms, trying to block out the sound.
"Ickle Reggiekins! There's a letter here for you. Don't you want to read it?"
"No," Regulus told him bluntly.
"Here then, I'll read it to you. It'll be just like old times."
"Don't you dare," the younger Black hissed.
"Or what?" The elder smiled tauntingly.
Regulus glared.
"Fine, I won't read it on one condition: you have to participate."
"What?"
"Promise Reggiekins, or the whole hall will know the contents of this letter."
"Prat."
"Brat."
"Imbecile."
"Git."
"Wretch."
"Monster."
"Jerk."
"Toad."
"Dog."
"Woof!" and then Sirius began laughing loudly.
Regulus sighed in exasperation, why did Sirius have to be so weird?
"So, you promise?"
Regulus reluctantly nodded.
"Good." Sirius then stuffed the letter in his brother's robe pocket and dragged him to the center of the Grand Hall.
Regulus mouthed 'save me' to Salem who just offered a wave.
Regulus felt his eye twitch as his brother led them in some muggle dance called "The Hokey Pokey." Hokey was right.
His right hand was itching for his wand.
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