Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe, it belongs to J.K. Rowling.

AN: Thank you soo much for your reviews! I really appreciate them. They make me grin and swivel around in my computer chair with enthusiasm. By the way, I've no real idea when Reggie's b-day is so I'm just guessing. And 'drafty' and 'uncertainly' should be accepted as Google Docs approved words. *** Yup, over a decade later and yeah, I'm holding to Reggie being a Leo because he's named after the Lion Star and that makes sense...to me?

Chapter 4: Slytherin Loyalties

"Evans says I'm not cultured. I argued I was, so she started asking my opinion on some 'Scream' and what I thought of Munk."

"Munch," Remus corrected. "'The Scream' is one of his more popular paintings." Noting the blank stares on his friends' faces, he sighed. "You know—the famous muggle artist?"

Nothing.

"Oh for goodness sake, people, take Muggle Studies!"

James sighed and glanced at Sirius. His best mate had been silent for a while now—he just kept clenching and twisting his quill. James pulled a face at the poor bent feather, Sirius was really stressing.

"Pads, I'm sure he's alright. You said yourself that Poppy didn't seem panicked, so it's probably no big deal."

Sirius said nothing and continued torturing his writing device.

Lessons were nearly finished when an owl swooped through the hallway dropping a message on the professor's desk.

After straightening her papers, McGonagall strode to the back of the class note in hand. "Mr. Black."

Sirius nearly snatched the letter from her hand. She raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as she returned to the front of the classroom.

He hastily tore it open and read its contents. His lip curled in distaste as he crumpled the note. "It just says he's awake."

"See he's fine," James assured.

"It doesn't say why it happened."

"He probably just stayed up too late, Pads. You know those Slytherins, they're always plotting something nefarious. I bet he spent so much time conniving, he put off his homework and had to pull an all-nighter to finish it," James reasoned, ruffling his hair.

"What if I hadn't been there? What if he'd cracked his skull open? And it was during class time—no one would've found him until it was too late and he-"

"I wouldn't worry. You're brother's got a pretty hard head, Pads."

Remus smirked. "Yes, almost as tough as yours."

Sirius glowered, his hand clenching and finally causing the feather to snap in two.

Peter looked on in confusion. "But Padfoot, I thought you didn't like him. You always say he's a worthless snot-nosed little prick. That he's ruined your life from the moment he entered it. If he did slip and…ya know…wouldn't that make things easier for you?"

"Shut up, Wormtail. It's just…well you know that bloody tyrant who calls herself my mother. I'd never hear the end of it if something had to precious Prince Reggiekins."

Peter hastily turned around and cowered at his desk for a few moments before trying to sneak a peek from Remus' notes.

Sirius pushed away from his desk with a loud screech that gained half the class's attention.

He haphazardly slung his materials into his book bag and strode to the front of the room.

"Mr. Black?"

He waved the letter. "My brother-"

McGonagall nodded. "Very well, make sure to finish the assignment on your own time."

Sirius gave an impatient nod and began making his way to the door.

"Oh and Mr. Black?"

He turned.

"Tell your brother he has the rest of the week to finish his report on 12th Century transfiguration techniques. Health before homework. I expect him to be well when he returns. And if he ever transfigures his used tissues again, it'll be a detention. Bodily excretions are not suitable mediums."

Dear Journal,

Siri has gone to Hogwarts. He got sorted into Gryffindor. Mum and Dad are very upset. But I'm not really surprised. I guess I always figured that Siri was more brave than sly any day. Still, everyone seems furious that he let down our family. I just keep thinking at least it wasn't Hufflepuff.

Dear Journal,

Siri's been writing about Hogwarts. It sounds like lots of fun. He says he actually likes it in Gryffindor. He says we'll have a lot of fun when I come to school. He talks like he expects me to be in that house too. I don't think that it'll happen.

I'm not as a brave as Siri. I mean I like adventures it's just that I don't normally go looking for danger. I remember a few years ago on our family vacation I lost my toy sailboat at the creek. We found it tangled against some twisting tree roots. The problem was it was on the other side of the creek. Siri went right in, even though Mum warned us about grindylows. I wouldn't go. He said I was being a baby. But I just couldn't go. I don't like swimming. No, it's more than that. I got a few centimeters from it and froze. Got this awful, awful feeling. See, I'm really scared of drowning. Don't ask why. I don't know, but I am.

Salem sighed and closed the book, replacing it in his pocket. He tapped his foot for a few minutes, stretched his shoulders, and finally offered an irritable glance at the empty spot at the table.

Where was he? This was his favorite bloody subject! The class was almost over. Even if his textbook had been accidentally shelved by the librarian, Regulus would have found it by now. The kid had a real gift with books—he could spot the ones he wanted, as if they were calling to him.

Salem slouched in his seat glowering at the crystal ball. Professor Mistereo was blathering on about precognition and how the orb held infinite clues to the future.

Rubbish. No…the journal he held in his pocket—now that held a vast array of clues. It was real, not this hokey lot of smoke and glass.

He glanced at the empty seat beside him. The boy would have gone on a tirade if he heard those thoughts. Regulus was a devout believer of this subject. They'd already had a few quarrels over it. Reg would scowl and retort that just because seers were rare did not mean they were nonexistent—and their art deserved to be shared with the world in a sympathetic atmosphere. To which Salem would argue that it was all a waste: Hogwarts hadn't pumped out a decent fortune-teller in centuries.

Salem began twisting his quill between his fingers. He should've been back by now.

He shifted uncomfortably. Regulus had gone alone. 'Slytherins stand together.' They had to, they were picked off, when they weren't. A lot of the elder Gryffindors would boast about their battles with lone Slytherins. Those snakes were such a nasty lot, sneering at the so called 'low society'—knocking them down a peg—that was justice.

He grabbed his book bag and carefully crept out of the room when the teacher wasn't looking.

Regulus sighed, glancing at the white tiled ceiling. There were 869 tiles. He knew that, counted it last year when a bludger had cracked his sternum. He shifted to his side. Madam Pomfrey was in her office, he could see her silhouette.

The moment he'd awoken, she hurried over—checking his vitals, asking his routine this morning, his symptoms, etcetera. She wanted him to be awake for at least an hour before she gave him a Pepper-up Potion. And that he needed to eat something. She then disappeared into her office.

His stomach flopped. He did not feel like eating, and his head was still pulsing. But none of that mattered. He glanced at his book bag resting beside the head of his bed. He needed to go down to the library and get Salem's book. It was true that Regulus lied often—from trivial to major issues, but if he did give his word to do something—he did it. And he did it immediately.

He hated this feeling of waiting, of weakness. Pomfrey would be furious if he left before her official dismissal. But he was fine. He lifted himself and his arms began trembling.

Alright, he admitted, so he was a little off today. But it was nothing to be overly concerned about. He was stressed. And he wasn't going to get any less stressed sitting here waiting and doing nothing of merit.

He had just moved into a sitting position against the headboard when he noticed the person at the foot of the bed. It took all his Black composure to keep the surprise from his face.

Sheesh, that bloke could really creep up on you.

Regulus nodded. "Salem."

The blond forced a smile. "So you finally came to your senses and came here. You know, I was wondering what became of you."

"I'm not entirely sure," Regulus admitted. "One of the teachers or prefects must have found me."

"Found you?" Salem echoed perplexed, his grin fading fast.

"I blacked out," Regulus stated matter-of-fact and shrugged a shoulder as though it was no big deal.

"What!?"

"I blacked out, coming down the stairs," the smaller boy explained. "Still I'm fine though."

Salem glanced at him in clear disbelief.

"Really," Regulus insisted, "I'm well enough to leave right now."

To prove this, he swung his legs off the bed, slung his bag over his shoulder, and stood. He marched confidently toward the entrance and…promptly clipped the doorway.

Regulus staggered back clutching his shoulder, flushing terribly and arguing, "That doesn't prove anything—I've just got…bad depth perception…today."

"Says the Slytherin seeker."

"Well you know what? You know what? Just-Just Nyah!"

"How articulate!"

"Give me a break today."

"Why don't you stop pushing yourself and rest?"

"Look, I'm fine. Or at least I will be. Soon. I'll just rest in the dormitory after we get your book, and I turn in my assignment to Professor Mistereo."

"I can do that."

"I had a question," Regulus dismissed him.

"Regul-"

The boy ignored him and began to tug at the door handle. He glanced at it perplexed and then stared at Salem. "It's not opening? Why is not opening?"

Finally, the door ripped away from his grasp and he found himself face to chest with one of his least favorite Gryffindors.

"What are you doing?"

"Existing, does that offend you?" Regulus sneered.

"Why are you up? Where do you think you're going?" the elder Black demanded pulling Regulus back into the room by the collar of his robes.

"What business of that is yours?"

Sirius was about to retort when he noticed the bystander. He glared at the blond Slytherin.

That was the little berk that jumped Peter! For no good reason! His hand itched for his wand. Still, revenge wasn't what he came here for.

"Out pipsqueak," he growled. Salem raised an eyebrow; he just wasn't one to be bullied—not even from himself.

"Now," the Gryffindor declared. "I got to talk with the brat."

The blond looked surprised at that and to Sirius' relief left without a fight.

The elder Black stole a glance at the younger. Regulus's scowl resembled something like betrayal as he watched his fellow Slytherin leave.

The moment the underclassmen was out, Sirius released his brother and shut the door. "Now answer my question, what the hell are you up to?"

"What do you care?"

"I don't! I just, well...I think I deserve some explanation after you bloody landed on me?! You-you made me late to my class…having to haul your scrawny arse to the infirmary!"

Regulus chewed at his lip.

Damn. Of all the people to fall on…it had to be him. He could feel a flush on its way; he desperately clung to his composure. Great, this story was going to be echoed all over Gryffindor tower and soon throughout the school.

He crossed his arms and glared—trying to act taller. Unfortunately, this made him look more petulant than intimidating.

Sirius glared right back and neither Black said anything for several moments.

When it became clear that the younger Black had no intention of continuing the conversation, Sirius shifted uncomfortably and tried to change the topic for a moment at least.

"McGonagall's giving you the rest of the week to finish your project. She says not to return until you're well and…Oh...and don't transfigure your snot," he finished with a look of revulsion.

Regulus passed his fingers through his hair. "That's out of context. You see, she said that we had to have a finished piece made of some unusual material and…inspiration comes in many forms."

His brother continued to look revolted.

"You sort of had to be there…" Regulus shrugged.

"Err…right…anyway, what's this all about?" Sirius asked waving a hand around.

"I believe it's called an infirmary."

"You know what I mean."

"I can say without hesitancy that I never know what you mean. We speak different languages you and I. And I'm afraid I'm just not fluent in Stupid."

"Could fool me," his brother returned just as snidely. He was not leaving until he got an answer.

Regulus growled, "Just who do you think you are barging in and giving orders anyway?"

"Oh sorry, your highness, I forgot that's your prerogative," Sirius sneered.

"You're such a-"

"Such a what?" Sirius pushed "Go on say what you want, princeling—never stopped you before."

Whatever Regulus might've wanted to say, he couldn't. He felt his throat close. He was on the verge of a coughing fit. He tried without success to swallow the undoubtedly horrid sounding cough.

"Well? I know Slytherin's not known for its courage, but go ahead and pluck some. I dare you."

Regulus glared. He really didn't want to cough in front of him. He hated appearing vulnerable, to his brother especially. He was not going to be a subject of ridicule. He kept his mouth clamped shut. This wouldn't be such a problem, but…he was congested and already his lungs were starting to burn.

His eyes were watering with the effort. He was desperately hoping his brother was just going to storm off like he normally did. Because the moment he took a breath, he'd have a coughing episode. His chest was already starting to spasm.

Go, he thought desperately, just go. But Regulus was no legilimens and his brother stood there resolutely, anger mounting, arms crossed; face hard, waiting for an answer.

Alas, the need for air defeated his resolve.

Sirius stepped back startled by the ferocity of the hacking fit that gripped his brother. He glanced about and noted the pitcher of water sitting on the bedside table. He poured a glass and stiffly offered it to the ailing boy.

Regulus glared and shook his head trying to say he was perfectly fine.

"Take it," his brother ordered, practically shoving it in his face.

Begrudgingly, Regulus accepted the drink—sipping carefully.

Silence reigned again as both Blacks tried not to make eye-contact.

Sirius let out an exasperated breath, and was about to comment on the weather when the door opened.

"Severus!" Regulus grinned as the elder Slytherin skulked in the room. "What are you in for? Experiment gone wrong?"

"Yes, but you know I gave up on you a long time ago."

"Har, har. Really Snape, comedy's your calling—forget about the professorial career."

"Here," he offered throwing what appeared to be a very small rectangular box—maybe the length of a palm.

Regulus caught the item, confused for only a moment. His face split into a grin and he eagerly opened the deck of cards. He extracted one sheaf, admiring it.

"New tarots," he murmured appreciatively.

"Of course. It's only fair. My potion back in January ruined your cards. It took me a while to track down, but I think you'll find those a suitable replacement."

Reg nodded, absorbed in examining the artwork on each card.

Meanwhile, Sirius stood awkwardly to the side during the exchange. It was strange, seeing his ever stoic brother react so exuberantly. His brother never greeted him like that.

It was always disdain or indifference. And to see him acting so inviting to Snivellus of all people.

Without any tenseness or awkward feelings, Snape sat down on the bed. Casually, he began pointing at the different cards and asking what they meant; to which Regulus enthusiastically launched into descriptions. Snape would offer nods and 'ohs.' He was clearly humouring the younger Slytherin.

Acting like-like friends. Sirius' eyes narrowed. No more like, like. Severus reached over and ruffled his brother's hair. Like brothers.

A sharp crack resounded. Startled, both Slytherins glanced toward the source. The glass of water on his bedside was leaking water through a great fracture in the side.

Regulus studied the broken glass curiously.

"It's probably the temperature. In primary school, we were instructed about this sort of thing," Snape stated matter-of-factly.

Regulus nodded. It certainly made more sense than…no…it couldn't have been accidental magic? He looked towards his brother, but the infirmary was empty save for the two Slytherins.

"So are all your ill-conceived fears relieved?" James asked brightly as his best mate entered their dormitory.

"He won't say what's wrong. I'm going to have keep hounding him, if I want an answer."

"You're reading too far into this," James groaned and slumped on his bed. "Let's plan something. A prank on the faculty or Snivellus or-"

"What do you think, Moony?" Sirius questioned.

"Does it matter?" the studious Gryffindor asked off-hand—nose firmly planted in his Arithmancy textbook.

Sirius scrambled onto the other boy's bed, staring imperiously.

Remus sighed and placed his book on his side table. "What?"

"Do you think there's something wrong with him?"

"Well, according to you, he always-"

"I'm not talking about what I say," Sirius interrupted angrily. "Do you think he's really alright?"

"How should I know Pads, it's not like I've got his diary handy?"

Sirius straightened, his eyes bright.

"No," Remus argued quickly. "No, Sirius don't."

"But I like that idea. He's the brooding type, so you know he keeps one. And it's so straightforward. If all else fails I'm going for that plan."

"As much as I am for action, I'm going to have to side with Moony on this. Try talking to him again," James piped up.

"Well, you said you're both in the hospital wing a lot. Does he display anything…odd?"

"I think he's just got a weak constitution."

"Since his third year," Sirius prompted.

"Yes, since…well…I don't…"

"So you only started seeing him last year. You didn't see him before then?"

"I'm…normally preoccupied…I can't really say..."

"If he's so prone to illness why did it only start up all of a sudden? He didn't get sick like this when we were little."

James rolled his eyes. "They're poisoning him, Sirius. Bellatrix decided enough was enough and-"

"Do you think it could be a hex or a spell or something? Is that possible?"

"I really doubt it, Pads. From what I understand, your family…likes him; I don't think they'd…do anything."

Normally talk like this would cause the exiled Black to descend into brooding. But he kept on. "But did you see him a lot in his third year?"

Remus was thoughtful. "It was toward the end. He started appearing more and more telling Pomfrey that he was feeling very tired."

"Nothing other than that?"

"No, the fainting started this year."

"So then we have a time frame. Something happened to him between the ending of third year and fourth. But what? He joined his Quidditch team in his second year, so it's not that. Got a new broom last summer, but he loves flying so that wouldn't stress him."

Remus was staring at him incredulously.

"What? I'm listing!"

"Sirius you ran away the summer before his third year."

"So? What has that…?" His eyebrows shot up before he shook his head viciously. "That's just…that's just a coincidence. I mean, that little bugger never gave a shi-"

"Sirius, out of curiosity. Was Regulus so hideous at Potions during his second year?"

Sirius mulled it over. "No. Well, it was always challenging for him, but not beyond his abilities. And if he was ever confused with something he'd just come and ask…" he trailed off.

"How did your family take it?"

"I'm blasted off the tapestry."

"I mean them, Sirius. How do you think they reacted? You know? New boundaries, more rules, harsher punishments?"

Sirius went very still. "You think they're taking it out on him?"

Every muscle was poised, ready to storm down to the dungeons and demand some answers.

Remus swallowed. "Well, I-I don't think they'd physically hurt him, Sirius."

Sirius was silent. He knew someone who would. Bellatrix. She'd hurt Regulus to get back at him—to make a point. That had been one of her ploys back in childhood. He doubted she outgrew it.

His eyes narrowed. He needed answers.

Salem ran a hand through his hair, if it wasn't for Regulus, he'd so be ditching class. But the teen always looked morally offended whenever he suggested it. Even now he'd stayed behind to ask Flitwick a question.

He filed out of the Charms class and was no sooner out of the door than a hand grabbed his arm.

"Hello, Sirius Black here. I heard you're an exchange student?" The Gryffindor fifth-year smiled.

Wand in hand, the fourth year stared at him warily. The Gryffindor had been stalking his brother for the past week, but Regulus was eerily good at slipping into the shadows when he wanted to disappear. Apparently, Sirius had accepted that it was going to be hard to extract answers from such an elusive figure so he'd had to look elsewhere.

Noting the poised wand tip, Sirius grinned. "Now, now, no hard feelings about…er…before?"

The blond raised a disbelieving eyebrow. He knew himself well enough to know that he wasn't the forgive-and-forget sort.

"Anyways," Sirius continued. "You're good friends with Regulus."

"I've barely known him a month."

"Well you two are always hanging out and I was wondering. Has he been feeling poorly for a while?"

"He seems to live from one illness into another."

"And?"

"He won't elaborate. But he acts as though it's normal."

"Has he…uh…shared any reasons for it?"

"We live in a cold, drafty, drippy dungeon."

Before the conversation could go any further, a voice warned: "Sirius, if you're seeking revenge for that Pettigrew loser, I'm reporting it to Slughorn. And I heard if you get one more Detention for bullying, they're banning you from the next Quidditch match."

Sirius would have told his brother off, if he hadn't caught sight of him.

There Regulus stood emanating an ominously green glow that fluctuated as he moved.

"Wait. Why are you glowing?" he asked perplexed.

"It's my personality. I radiate therefore I am," Regulus deadpanned.

His brother snorted.

"What? Are you saying you don't believe that I am a walking beacon of hope and fortune—spreading sunshine into the lives of all I know?"

"No."

"Good. Cause I'd think you were a complete idiot if you said yes. It's a Luminating Hex."

"Oh. I know a counter-curse for it," Sirius offered.

"I'm sure you do, come on, Salem. Pince is holding a book for me."

With that, the two Slytherins stalked off, the smaller attracting quite a lot of curious stares.

So Regulus thought he could get away without telling him anything? Well, his brother had another thing coming. He knocked on the door.

It opened.

Flashing a brilliant smile, Sirius greeted, "Hello Professor Slughorn, I've decided to take you up one of your offers. I think it's time I contributed something back to Hogwarts."

The morning post arrived right on time; and Archimedes dropped a letter on his owner's plate before nipping his hair and flying off.

Regulus took the envelope, face paling.

Salem watched with narrowed eyes, hand poised ready to snatch that letter and find out what the hell was going on.

Then miraculously his brother regained his colour and let out an aggravated sigh. He stuffed the letter in his pocket and gave a suffering glance towards his friend.

"Blech, looks like they're giving me another tutor. Poor soul, he'll never last."

Salem raised an eyebrow. "And why's that?"

"Because I'm hopeless."

"You're not hopeless."

"You're right. I'm stupid. That feels so much better."

"You're not-"

"I'm stupid and cantankerous and when I get frustrated I get violent."

"Poor tutor," Salem agreed.

"Yes, and I'm supposed to meet him after dinner tonight in the library. I guess they're under the delusion that with enough help I might still be able to pass the Potions Exam."

"Regul-"

Regulus gave a wicked grin, "Well, it's time I proved them wrong!"

With that he downed his drink and stood, ready to face the day.

Grumbling over his lost evening, Regulus pulled the heavy Potions room door open. He'd been pondering all day over who was going to be assigned to him. It'd left him even more mindless than usual in Potions class, and if it wasn't for Salem their potion wouldn't have passed.

There, sitting with his back turned, checking a textbook was his tutor. Fairly tall, so that probably made him a sixth or seventh year.

"Do we really need to go through this? I'm sure the other tutors already told you that my chance at passing is dismal. So let's just leave it at that and spare ourselves an array of wasted nights."

"Now Reggiekins, that's an awful attitude." The figure swivelled around.

The younger Black's mouth gaped in horror.

"No, no, not you. This isn't fair. You can't-no-have them change it. I will not be tutored by you."

"When I was a boy we were grateful when someone came offering their aid without expecting any monetary reward or lamenting over the loss of time," Sirius began patronizingly.

"And in your day you walked fifteen miles in the snow, right?"

"Uphill both ways." Sirius grinned. "Now c'mere."

Regulus trudged over to the stool beside him. "Do I really have to put up with your irritating short stories on the good ol' days?"

"The word you're looking for is anecdotes and no."

Regulus flushed and glared.

"So…how was your day?"

The younger Black rolled his eyes.

"Hey!" his brother snapped. "I'm being civil. Make an effort."

"It was fine. It was perfectly fine."

"I see you figured out the counter-curse."

"Yes, Flitwick warned us the day before about the lesson. I had Pince holding a book for me with the counter-curses."

"Smart."

"Hmm."

"You…you feeling better?"

"It was just a bad cold."

"My foot. I've never passed out from a flu bug."

"Well not all of us are like the indomitable Sirius Black."

"How cold are the dungeons? I mean, if it's that awful you should really tell the Headmaster. I mean you might have pneumonia or something. And if that's the case-"

"Oh stuff it."

"Look, I think as the person you collapsed on, I deserve some explanation-"

"I don't owe you anything and you know it, Bloodtraitor," Regulus hissed.

Sirius stiffened before sighing, "Alright, then tell me what you're having trouble with. The ingredients, the order, or the finesse?"

Regulus stared for a moment surprised that his brother was actually going to tutor him.

"Everything," he replied softly.

"Alright. We'll start with a simple Sneezing Solution. It'll be easy to know if you've made it right, and it wears off the moment you leave three feet of its vicinity."

He flipped through a few pages and set it down. "Now select the ingredients we'll need."

Sirius plodded up to his dormitory, brushing past Peter who was puzzling over his Charms homework. He threw himself on his bed face-down.

"Any luck?" James asked, putting down his Quidditch magazine.

"Nope," came the muffled response.

"Did the tutoring help?" Remus inquired.

"Don't know. He was always a nervous potions-maker—now he's even worse."

"Were you tormenting him?" Remus asked knowingly.

Sirius glared. "No actually, I was just instructing him-"

"Maybe you should just let him go." Peter shrugged. "No use getting all frustrated over it."

"...Maybe."

"Pete's right. Focus on the good. Tomorrow's the start of Easter Break, we're still on right?"

"My mum wants me home," Peter sighed.

"Don't worry, we'll visit some time. How bout you, Moony, you spending time with Pads and I?"

"Sounds good."

"So you're leaving for your home?"

"Yes," Regulus answered distractedly as he packed his trunk. "Damn, why didn't I realize that today was the start of Easter holiday?"

"I believe you were too busy griping about how your big brother is your new tutor. Which is really tough. I mean, I hear he's pretty stubborn, so your little speeches about spending time in better pursuits aren't going to work."

Salem glanced at the last garment lying on Regulus' bed. He reached for it casually asking, "Any room for boarders?"

"No!" the answer came so abrupt that Salem jerked his hand away from the sweater he was about to touch.

"I-I mean, well, my mother's not-"

"Right. Half-blood. I probably don't meet her standards for her son's perfect friend."

"Huh? Uh, yeah. Som-something like that. At least. At least for right now. See, she's not…really feeling very well. And any visitors who aren't…family…aren't being received too kindly."

Salem offered the sweater and Regulus scowled. "Yellow is not my color."

"Oh? It clashes with your dark poet persona?"

"It does actually. I'm more of a winter."

Salem snorted."Your birthday's August 6th kid."

Regulus glanced up at him from his trunk. "How? How did you learn when my birthday was?"

Salem started before shrugging a shoulder. "I asked one of those Quidditch players."

"Really? Huh, I never knew they bothered to remember. I always feel like I have to remind them each year. A lot of them can't even spell my name, you know?"

The following day, Salem waved as Regulus made his way towards the train. Returning to Grimmauld Place would do him some good. He was probably homesick. Reggie had always been a mama's boy; being separated from her was what was causing his anxiety.

He'd be fine.

In the meantime, he'd use this break to hound Dumbledore for some answers. With purpose, Salem turned and strode back towards the castle intent on getting some clarity on the situation. While trailing after his brother was interesting, he doubted Reg would provide him with some great answer to preventing James and Lily's murder.

Regulus sighed as he pulled his trunk along. He soon spotted a clump of Slytherins standing near the train. He didn't really feel like joining them, but social etiquette demanded adherence.

"Ah, the Prodigal Prince returns to us," Flint sneered.

"What are you blathering about?" Regulus growled irritably. He'd been so busy packing this morning he'd had to skip breakfast and now his stomach was growling.

"A ray of sunshine as usual, hmm?"

"Always."

"I see you managed to tear away yourself away from your new little buddy?"

Regulus raised an eyebrow.

Flint shrugged a shoulder."Well, we hardly ever see you anymore."

"Maybe you're not looking?"

"Maybe you haven't been tending your loyalties as well as you ought?"

"Maybe you're looking too deeply into my actions and fueling your paranoia?"

"No." Flint grinned-sharp teeth bared. "One thing I can say without a doubt is that you are one to watch out for. Anyone who can disappear with the ease you do is suspicious."

If it wasn't for the obviously malicious glint in Flint's eyes, Regulus might have felt flattered. (Rarely, did he ever come across as intimidating.) He might have even played along if it weren't for the fact that these were dangerous people to toy with.

He'd need some silvery words to smooth this affair. He glanced at the cold, closed faces about him. He had been neglecting his obligations—purposely avoiding them for Salem's sake; who positively despised them. But…this was high society, feelings didn't matter here.

He flashed a dazzling smile. "How sweet, you missed me. And all this time I didn't think you cared."

For a moment, the atmosphere lightened and a few of the Slytherins chuckled—making the tension fade until—

"We don't. Not really," Barty stated flatly. "But you could be a lot of trouble if you wanted to be."

"Well...it's good that trouble is something I heartily try to avoid-"

"Barty makes a very good point—you know an awful lot, Regulus. It'd be a shame if that sort of information fell into the wrong hands."

Regulus blinked. "You're not saying that my loyalties are questionable?"

"Of course not," Rabastan growled. "We're just going to give you a little incentive to keep those loyalties clear...for your own sake."

In a flash his arms were pinned behind him. He heard some cruel chuckles and jeering start.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, desperately trying to sound more amused than fearful.

But luck wasn't with him.

"Hey! Hey! Wait! No, I haven't done anything. I haven't-" He squeezed his eyes shut. He'd seen Flint winding his fist back. He'd witnessed his Quidditch Captain's cruelty—he'd beaten a Hufflepuff unconscious once just because the kid had scuffed his brand new shoes.

Damn it. Damn. He waited for the blow that was sure to break his nose and mottle his face.

Nothing happened. Nothing. Complete silence.

Cautiously, he opened one eye and found a fist waiting mere centimeters away. He followed the arm to its owner and found Flint's face white—jaw clenched. His eyes boring into his.

But what was causing this? Regulus glance around—everyone was like Flint. Pale, stiff—eyes rolling intensely. Yet, they made no sound or movement—to their obvious frustration. How odd—they stood like a collection of bizarre statues almost as if—

"Any day now, ickle Reggiekins." Regulus jerked his head to see Sirius leaning casually against a gate—idly twirling his wand. His friends were posed similarly—each possessing that infuriatingly relaxed arrogance.

"Regulus, the spell's not going to last forever."

Regulus glared—he'd almost prefer that beating compared to the smug expression on his brother's visage.

The truth of the matter was that he couldn't leave even if he wanted to.

His brother tapped his foot impatiently. "Fine, stay if you want your arse kicked—by all means you probably earned it. I-" Remus elbowed him and gestured toward Regulus—obviously spotting the younger Black's problem.

Sirius stopped, stared, and burst out laughing.

He swaggered over. "Whoops!" he offered carelessly, "I forgot how wee Ickle Reggiekins is!"

Regulus glared from his position, toes not even scuffing the ground from where he hung suspended from one Rabastan Lestrange.

Sirius grinned as he drew near eyeing his brother's misfortune.

"Oh bugger off," Regulus murmured half-heartedly.

Sirius snickered. "And leave you to these trolls? They'll squash you."

"I've survived it before," the younger Black gritted out. It was true—if there was one thing he could take pride in (as pathetic as it was) it was that Regulus Arcturus Black could take his beatings with dignity.

He expected some retort or a mocking sneer—some sort of 'I'll leave it to you then' or something. But his brother wasn't smiling.

Regulus squirmed slightly—his arms smarting terribly. You know, being hung from your arms was excruciating. That Spanish Inquisition knew what it was doing.

"Well are you going to unfreeze him?" the younger Black demanded.

"No."

Regulus swore angrily and kicked his legs helplessly.

"So you came just to mock me up close—wanted a front row seat—urgh-how predictable—how bloody predictable and here I thought for once in your life you'd actually help-"

His brother made no reply. He simply reached out and lifted his brother out of his aggressor's grasp.

Regulus flushed—horribly embarrassed—his brother had picked him up like a five-year-old.

God, it couldn't get any worse.

"Damn, Reggie." Sirius frowned "You forget how to eat? I mean, I thought you were light before our little jaunt to the hospital wing—but now—sheesh."

"I'm fine," Regulus growled. "Put me down."

"Whatever."

Regulus straightened his clothes after both feet touched down. He ran a hand through his hair, while trying to discreetly spot his trunk.

"Looking for this?" Potter smiled and held it up.

"Yes."

"I've got it."

"Give it here, Potter."

"It's fine, squirt."

"Yeah, mate, don't get your knickers in a twist-"

"He doesn't know where I'm going to sit," Regulus pointed out.

"Oh yes, he does."

"By God, Sirius, I swear if you stick my trunk on the roof again—so help me I'll-"

"You're sitting with us today. And mind you, just today."

Regulus stared at him. "Fine. Stick my trunk to the top of the train. Hell, stick me to the top of the train."

His brother glared. "Quit being so dramatic."

"That's laughable coming from you. Really though, just what was my crime?"

"You know most people would consider this an honor. But if you really feel that way, I'd be happy to set you back in Lestrange's loving arms."

"Enough," Remus intervened. "Let's just grab a compartment already."

"Well you heard, Moony," Sirius declared, grabbing his brother's shoulder and steering him to follow after James.

They arrived in time to find James placing his and Regulus' trunks in the overheard storage.

Regulus sat between the window and his brother, while Lupin sat opposite with Potter. Sirius ended up sitting a bit closer than Regulus liked in order to make room for that Prewett boy.

However when he voiced his complaints, the elder Black threatened the floor or Lupin's lap—since that Gryffindor was used to babysitting crybaby Slytherins.

The argument ended when Lupin angrily stated that he was indeed a Prefect and that, yes, he tried to help out Marauder victims. And that if he knew anything about babysitting crybabies, it was because James and Sirius had taught him so much.

Thus, an uneasy silence arose. Regulus drummed his fingers on the window sill wondering just how he ended up here among his least favorite people in the world.

When the smiling witch pushing the candy trolley, stopped by—the boys bought armfuls of sweets—as though their lives depended on it.

Sirius looked towards his brother expectantly. But the younger Black just continued to stare out the window.

"I think the sky will survive losing a moment of your admiration, come buy something."

"Not hungry."

Sirius snorted, "Yeah right. I didn't see you at breakfast. You've got to be starving."

Regulus's eyebrows rose for a moment before he forcefully tacked his composure back in place.

God. Sirius was an irritating one. You know, for his first two years he'd wanted nothing more than his brother's attention; went around desperately vying for it. And now another two years later, where he couldn't care less and longed for anonymity, big brother felt like butting into his life.

"No."

"Oh? Planning on just sneaking some of mine, huh?"

"No." Regulus returned his view on the scenery rushing by.

The lady left and the loud smacking of adolescent boys gorging themselves on sugar commenced.

"Oi." Sirius poked his brother, noting that in reality—there really wasn't much to poke. "Here."

Regulus glanced at the pumpkin pasty indifferently. Reluctantly, he took it and nibbled the sweet.

Conversation began on Quidditch tactics and new rules before switching over to career choices.

Sirius glanced at his brother, half-hoping that the boy was going to jump in or throw an arrogant remark or…something.

But the younger was boy silent, drumming his fingers on the sill again. Pausing every once in awhile to marvel at the first three finger nails on his left hand.

Still, Sirius decided, he was here, and that was better than nothing.

Spying two more empty pastry wrappers near his brother, Sirius grinned and swiped a Pumpkin pasty from Peter's stash.

"Here, have another."

"I'm full."

"It's just one more."

"I said I'm full."

Sirius looked at him disbelievingly.

There was a time when Reg could've eaten dinner, desert, and then seven pasties and still been eager for more. That's how the two of them had spent one New Year's, having an eating contest. Needless to say, their parents had not been impressed.

"Eat it."

"I don't want eat it."

"Regulus, I've fed you before and you can't possibly be worse at fourteen than you were at two."

"I'm almost fifteen." His brother argued. "And I hated spaghetti and you knew it."

Sirius' lips twitched. "So you do remember?"

"Of course I do. You traumatized me. I still hate that pasta. I shiver every time I pass an Italian Restaurant."

"You normally play off that you can't recall."

"Yes, for the sake of my dignity in public."

"Well come on, put some meat on your bones" the elder Black insisted.

Regulus swiped the sweet from his brother's hand. "I'll have it later alright?"

He stuffed it in his pocket, he probably would too. He glanced up to notice Potter's eye scrutinizing him.

Regulus almost smiled. It was clear Potter wasn't used to being second fiddle in Sirius's list of priorities. If Regulus wasn't so sure that it was more his brother's curiosity than concern, he might have been touched.

Satisfied that his brother was taken care of, Sirius quickly engaged his friends in a recount of one of his recent detentions.

Regulus returned his gaze to the outside and contemplated what awaited him at home. More than a little worried and tired from weeks of restless sleeping, Regulus's heavy lids fell.

"God it's just like him to fall asleep against me—how irritating—how am I supposed to play now?" Sirius whined.

"We'll bring the board closer to you," James suggested.

"Such a nuisance."

"James switch with Peter," Remus requested.

"B-but I wanted to play and all my stuff's here." Peter's watery blue eyes begged entreaty.

"You switch with me," Sirius demanded.

"I-I don't think so-"

"Come on, Remus—you're just reading—it won't be that much of an obstruction. He's really light anyway."

"But you just said..." Remus groaned, running his fingers through his hair in exasperation.

He leaned forward to ensure only Sirius heard him.

"Do you really feel secure leaving your baby brother with a werewolf?"

"Absolutely. He's bound to be safer with you than anyone else. Did you know that Bella tried to trick him into exploring the boiler room? He was four."

Effectively silenced, Remus allowed himself to be guided into his new seat.

"Set?"

Remus nodded reluctantly. Sirius grinned and set his brother carefully against his friend.

"I still don't get why we didn't just wake him up," Peter mumbled.

.

"Cause he looked dead on his feet," James answered as he began dealing cards.

As the train came to stop, Regulus yawned and blinked tiredly. He was leaning against something, or rather someone. He looked up at the person who muttered a sheepish 'hello' and leapt back, hitting his head hard against the window.

Swearing beneath his breath, he clutched at the back of his skull.

"This-wha-I-I-"

"Sorry for the swap, but earlier Sirius wanted to play Snap. He didn't want to wake you up—you looked like you needed the rest."

Regulus said nothing, trying to regain the tatters of his composure—God, it was embarrassing enough to snooze against his brother but really sleeping against a total stranger? How humiliating!

"They're off changing," Remus offered helpfully. "How's your head? It sounded like you made pretty hard contact."

"I'm fine," he growled, which wasn't quite true because tears had sprung to his eyes. And knowing his luck lately, he probably had a concussion.

The door to their compartment slid open. Regulus dropped his hand to his side, he'd rather avoid questions about why he was clutching his head. His brother had been a little too adept in monitoring him lately. And he didn't want to add more fuel to the fire.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty has awoke—you better not have done anything questionable, Moony."

"What? Ugh, don't even-" Remus shook his head in disgust.

Sirius grinned; laughing at his brother's blissfully confused expression. Thankfully, his brother had no knowledge of muggle fairytales.

"You feeling any better, Reg?"

"I'm fine."

"Riight."

Reaching up, Sirius grabbed the trunks from storage, handing each to their owners.

Once he had his belongings, Regulus swiftly left the compartment—eager to be away from the marauders.

Regulus sighed as he descended the train; he had quite a trek to start on. However, he hadn't walked more than two steps when a hand clapped on his shoulder.

"Alright. So where's the battle ax?"

"Huh?"

"You know, Mummy Dearest." Sirius cringed.

"She-well, she can't make it today."

Sirius stared—Walburga always came to pick Regulus up from Hogwarts—the two times she hadn't Sirius had been obligated to ride the Knight Bus with him.

"…Alright then. Who am I looking for?"

"What?"

"Who's picking you up?"

"What do you care? Potter's waving you over."

"Huh-Oh right. I gotta g-wait a minute-you didn't answer."

"I'll get home on my own."

"Knight Bus?"

"Mmm."

"I'll walk you over."

"That isn't necessary," Regulus backpedaled. Stupid, he thought, why didn't you just say you were waiting for Cissa or something?

The truth was—he couldn't go home on the Knight Bus—Lestrange had earned the lot of them a ban for life. The niffler he nicked caused mayhem—apparently a handful of passengers had lost coins through the floorboards and into the engine. It'd taken a good deal of money and apology from his mother to keep the blemish form going on his records.

God. His ears rung whenever he thought about it.

"Now you've got your wand ready, right? Because you know they have to see it before you board."

Sirius waved at someone who Regulus could only assume was Mrs. Potter, a slightly plump witch with bright hazel eyes, and dark curls. She was currently hugging James and beamed at Sirius. The light caught on her diamond ring. Not half as big as their mother's. Probably wasn't even real.

Sirius mouthed 'Knight Bus' and indicated his brother. The woman nodded and gave a little wave to Regulus.

Regulus scowled. He despised her already. People who wore their emotions on their sleeve were despicable. And the Potters were the worst imaginable: Bloodtraitors.

Regulus pulled his robes closer as brisk air greeted them outside the station. The Knight Bus was already parked at the curb.

"Hey, good timing." Sirius noted that the short line of students were already boarding. "Oi Mckennon!" One boy with light brown hair turned.

"Hey Black! Looking for to the holiday?"

"Wish it was longer."

"You and me both."

Regulus scuffed a shoe against the pavement. His brother needed to leave immediately or he was going to need some distraction in order to slip away.

Thankfully, the former seemed imminent as McKinnon boarded the bus and disappeared inside.

"Alright," Sirius began awkwardly. "I guess…er…well…have a…Happy Easter."

Regulus gave a mechanical nod. His brother stood uncomfortably before him for a beat more, before turning on his heel and leaving.

"Present your wand—oh-it's you," the driver noted, clearly remembering the…incident.

Regulus smirked. "No worries, I'm not going to grace you with my presence today."

The young Slytherin hefted his cage and trunk and pulled out of the line.

"Hey, kid. If you really need a ride…" the gruff driver trailed off.

Regulus pursed his lips; a Black did not accept handouts.

"I'll be fine," he announced and walked away, nose held as high as he could manage.

Sirius glanced about the restaurant. Mrs. Potter was getting them a reservation, he overheard the greeter say it would take about an hour.

Bugger. He was really hungry, he was about to gripe when he noticed a familiar face enter through the doors.

"McKinnon! It's been so long."

His fellow Gryffindor grinned. "Yeah, almost half an hour. God, that Ernie drives like a maniac."

"Heh, how was Regulus? My brother using that as an excuse to sulk like the lil' Slytherin he is?"

"Huh?"

"You know. Regulus—smaller, shrimpier, meaner version of yours truly?"

"The-the Slytherin Seeker right?" the boy inquired uncertainly.

"…Yeah."

"You two are related?"

"What planet are you from McKinnon? Didn't you ever think it odd that we share half of our names? Come on, what other family names their brats after constellations?"

"Sorry, I just-well, you never really act-" He cleared his throat. "I didn't see him."

"What?"

"I didn't see him, Sirius but maybe he was on the upper level?"

"Regulus always sits on the left second window bed."

"Well I didn't see him."

"You had to have seen him," Sirius persisted. "You boarded right before him."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you, Black, the bus left without him."

Sirius rushed over to where James and Remus were making a salt and pepper shaker castle.

"Prongs, we gotta go."

"What? Why?"

"My brother."

"What about him?"

"I don't know where he is."

"Pads, he's on the-"

"McKinnon didn't see him there."

"Well, maybe he decided to floo," Remus reasoned.

"He hates floo. Doesn't like ash fraying his robes."

"I'm sure he's-"

"We'll take a drive," Mrs. Potter declared walking up. Sirius was certain that all good mothers had an innate ability to detect distress; she rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. "If he's along the way, we'll pick him up and take him home."

"...Thank you."

First, they drove back to the station, but Regulus was nowhere to be found. Then, they drove full speed to Grimmauld, but no one answered the door. Then, they wove in and out of London city, but to no avail.

By this time, Sirius's imagination was starting to produce all sorts of horrible ends that might have befallen his brother. Worse, he was starting to share them and now even James looked more than a little worried.

"-And then what if they use one of those horrible metal wands-"

"A gun," Remus supplied.

"Right, and you know he won't know what it is—and he'll probably try to laugh it off or something and then they'll pull the-"

"Mum! There he is!" James called.

To Sirius's astonishment, there his brother was: walking—tired, sweating, panting with the effort, but blissfully safe and whole—dragging his trunk along the ground—the grating sound clearly irritating passersby.

His brother feigned indifference to their glares and continued right along his way, pausing only to readjust the cage beneath his arm, and push his sweaty fringe aside.

"He's walking," Sirius gaped.

"Nice observation, Pads."

Sirius glared and punched James in the arm before turning back to his window and rolling it down.

"Regulus!" No response. "Regulus!" Nothing. "REGULUS ARCTURUS BLACK what on earth are you doing!?"

Funnily enough, it came out so naturally, he didn't notice his friends' eyebrows shoot up. Sirius had sounded so much like his mother just then—it was eerie.

Still, it had the desired effect. Regulus immediately stiffened and looked about.

When his eyes snagged on the source, he frowned, and trudged over.

"What?" he demanded irritably.

Sirius's brows furrowed. "Don't you dare get huffy; if anyone should be pissed off, it's me. You lied to me."

Regulus said nothing.

"You LIED," Sirius repeated. He groaned and opened the door. "Get in"

"No."

"Now."

"No."

"Regulus. Get. In. The. Car."

Mrs. Potter rolled her window down. "We'll take you home, dear."

Regulus contemplated his shoes. It was clear he didn't really want to walk, but one could see the gears working in his head: was accepting aid from bloodtraitors…allowed?

Sirius decided to make the choice for him—grabbing his trunk and cage and stuffing them in the car.

"I guess I'm riding," Regulus stated flatly.

Sirius moved into the middle seat and Regulus reluctantly closed the car door.

"So?"

"So?"

"Well?" Sirius prompted.

"Well what?"

"Why did you lie to me?"

Regulus shrugged. "I don't know."

"Bullocks."

"Sirius," Mrs. Potter warned.

"Sorry," Sirius apologized.

Regulus stared. His brother never apologized to their parents. Or him. Ever. And here to these traitors he acted polite and…and…

A flash of hate seized him so powerfully, that for one moment he thought he was going to tear at his brother's face.

"You tell me this instant what possessed you to lie through your teeth to me! God, Regulus. Wandering around London? Sunset's less than an hour away. You know how dangerous it can be in broad daylight."

"No, don't you dare presume to lecture me on integrity and risk. You are such a bloody hypocrite. How you can bare your own skin is amazing."

"You little insect—ungrateful little bugger."

"Filth! Scum!"

"Git!"

"Worthless waste of space!"

"Brainless little puppet."

"Pathetic, disloyal fool."

"Wait!" came Remus's surprisingly harsh shout from the front seat. He turned, leaned over, and buckled Regulus in. "Alright, continue."

Regulus flushed. "Er…thanks."

Remus waved it aside. "Don't want to get Mrs. Potter a ticket."

"Boys," Mrs. Potter's soft but cool voice said firmly, "no more of that. I do not tolerate such arguing in my car."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Sorry to be an inconvenience."

"Not at all, dear. You know you just gave your brother quite a scare. Now, it's alright that you chose not to go on the bus, but you really should've notified Sirius. Or called a cab or something. I'm sure your mother wouldn't be pleased to know her son-"

"I'm sorry, a what?"

"A cab, dear."

Regulus cocked his head to the side clearly thinking what in the hell was she talking about?

Sirius groaned. "See? This is the sort of naivety I was talking about. God, Regulus." He was silent for a moment and then blurted, "Regulus, you do know what a gun is right?"

Regulus looked momentarily caught off-guard by the bizarre question. "It's…it's one of those funny metal wands right? Right?" He looked to Remus, who nodded solemnly.

Satisfied with his answer, Regulus settled back into his seat and eyed his brother smugly.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "You know what it does right?"

"Spits a little metal ball, or so I've heard."

"Well, it's dangerous."

"Duh, and that's why it's listed as a Muggle weapon, Sirius. Bella told me about them."

Sirius let out an exasperated sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

"I think-"

"You don't think at all Potter," Regulus snapped.

"We don't have to help you, you know," James retorted.

"James," came Mrs. Potter stern tone. She smiled gently at Regulus, "We're here, dear."

Regulus felt a slight smile tug the edges of his lips against his will. "Thank you for your aid, Ma'am. You've saved me quite a walk. I'm very grateful."

"Anytime, Regulus. If you ever need a ride just ask. The streets of London just aren't safe for a boy your age to wander around."

The younger Black nodded as he undid his safety belt. After gathering his possessions, he gave one final thank you to Mrs. Potter and exited the car.

Seeing that his brother wanted to say something he quickly slammed the car door. But the elder Black wasn't to be deterred and quickly rolled down the window.

"This discussion isn't over," Sirius declared pointing at him for emphasis.

Regulus rolled his eyes and trudged up the stone steps leading to his house.

He pulled the great iron key from his pocket and placed it in the lock. All the while, conscious that Mrs. Potter's car had yet to pull away. Only when he was safely inside did the woman wave and drive off.

Regulus sighed as he closed the great door. What a weird day.

"Master?"

Regulus smiled. "Greetings Kreacher. I'm home."

"Kreacher is glad to see the young master." The servant bowed.

"And how fares Mother?"

The elf looked aside. "The Mistress is still unwell. She doesn't leave her bed and she holds many conversations."

Regulus smirked. "She talking your ear off?"

"Not talking to me, Master."

Regulus froze. "Well than…who is she speaking with?"

"Kreacher is sure he doesn't know, sir."

"Right." Regulus swallowed uneasily. "Right. Well. But she's still eating alright?"

"Yes, Master."

"G-good. Good." He finished more resolutely—trying to force some reassurance in his voice.

"We knew mother wasn't feeling well. She just needs more rest. She's probably just sleep-talking. You were probably mistaken."

"Of course, Master." The house-elf looked decidedly doubtful.

"I'll leave you to my trunk then, I've got some nasty mud stains on my cloak. Sorry, I fear I was careless, but I do think they'll come out."

"Master?" the house-elf inquired almost hesitantly. "There are letters for the young master. On the desk."

Regulus nodded grimly. He knew there would be. After all, they were starting to show up even at school.

Regulus walked down the corridor, unease mounting. He opened Orion's office with trepidation. Even now, after so much time, the room felt alien.

He and Sirius were rarely admitted in here unless for admonishment. The feeling of trespassing had yet to pass—even though, as Kreacher had assured him, he was the new master now, and the entirety of the house was his.

He sighed as he sat at his father's desk. The chair was too big, seeming like a perfect symbol of how this job—being head of house—was simply too great for the likes of him.

With a shuddering breath, he noted the great pile of papers covering the desk and began opening the envelopes.

Bills….deadlines…demands for compensations-for payouts…damn…damn it.

Regulus had been checking their accounts and records, going through their gargantuan filing cabinets over and over again. He kept praying it was some sort of mistake. But he knew…knew it last year, that the House of Black was in a financial crisis.

A majority of his father's investments had flopped—an unpleasant detail the man had kept to himself. Shortly after his incarceration, his few successful deals deteriorated—somehow people doubt the integrity of criminals. Go figure.

His eyes scanned the final letter and barely stifled a gasp. The parchment fell from his quivering fingers. The statement Gringotts sent was causing cold perspiration to stream down his face. Was there really that little left?

Imperio: Read and Review! When you don't it makes Reggie feel unloved. ):