Blackout

by Skyfire Forged

Sirius wakes up in 1980 to find he has no memory of the last ten years. But Regulus is here to look after him, so there's nothing to worry about. Is there?

3. Hiding

CHAPTER THREE – HIDING

The following morning, Kreacher arrived outside Sirius's room as scheduled with another splendid breakfast, this time a tall stack buttery pancakes drizzled with maple syrup.

'Master Sirius,' he croaked as the door opened with the elf's own brand of magic, holding the large tray steady. 'Your breakfast –'

The bed was empty.

For one panicked moment, the elf froze, eyes widening, only to spot his pyjama-clad charge a moment later sat in the bay window seat, hugging his knees and looking pensively out of the window.

'Master Sirius! You should be in bed,' chided the elf. Shuffling over to the bedside table, he set the tray down.

The young wizard only slightly turned his head.

'I don't see why. It's my memory that's gone, not my legs.'

Sirius resumed gazing down into the square below. Bordered on three sides by similar looking Georgian townhouses, the narrow walkways between the houses permitted a steady flow of people cutting through.

Men in suits on their way to their respective offices. Children free of school for the summer were scampering about the flowerbeds and benches, ducking behind bushes and trees. Young adults sauntering about in groups and couples, enjoying the early morning sunshine. A man sat on a bench on the opposite side of the square, pursuing the morning newspaper. The rumble of nearby London traffic was just audible in the distance.

Kreacher joined Sirius at his side, peered out into the square and stuck his snout up in the air.

'Filthy muggles,' he snarled with contempt. Sirius recognised it as an imitation of his mother's tone when she was annoyed at their presence on their doorstep. He didn't pay it much heed. He'd learnt a few years ago not to voice his curiosity of Muggles within earshot of any of Grimmaulds other residents, lest it get back to his parents and initiate yet another round of scolding on what was 'proper'. Proper just seemed to be another word for boring most of the time.

Tuning out the unveiled insults, Sirius was observing the young adults in particular. Their clothing was strange, their choice of hairstyles odd – Muggle attire was of course strange compared to wizarding robes, but the change in style from what Sirius remembered the last time he'd sat people-watching from an upstairs window was jarring … yet fascinating.

One particular couple caught his eye. About his own age (that was still weird to think about) strolling lazily through the square, arms around each other's waists. The dark haired young man was leaning in close and murmuring something in the redheaded woman's ear. She opened her mouth wide in laughter and gave him a playful shove, slipping from his grasp and tottering away as fast as her ridiculous heeled shoes and scandalously short skirt would allow.

Sirius smiled to himself as the man jogged after her, wrapped her up in a hug and almost swept her off her feet entirely. They seemed so utterly happy and carefree, as they made their way out of the square, meandering towards Regents Park.

Regents Park, Hyde Park, Covent Garden, Camden Town … all these places not a million miles away that he'd dreamed of sneaking off to when whichever chaperone was minding him and his brother had their backs turned - just to experience them without someone commenting disparagingly on the Muggles and reminding him not to go near them.

The allure of the forbidden.

Sirius looked at his reflection in the window glass. It dawned on him that he really wasn't a child anymore … therefore he no longer needed a chaperone … the young adult in the glass grinned.

Feeling emboldened, Sirius hopped off the window seat.

'Don't worry about breakfast, Kreacher,' he said, heading for the wardrobe. 'I'm off out for a walk.'

The elf froze and looked stricken.

'Master, you can't!'

'Of course I can, look.' Sirius walked about, arms spread in demonstration. 'See? Like I said, my legs work fine.'

'Young master Regulus said you're to stay in your room. Master is not well!'

'It's a walk, Kreacher, I just want some fresh air and to stretch my legs. I've been in this room for days now.'

Sirius pulled a full length cloak out of the wardrobe and threw it on, trusting that their mothers Notice-Me-Not charms were still standard practise on all their travelling cloaks.

The elf's ears were twitching in agitation.

'Young master Regulus said –'

'Young master Regulus isn't here,' said Sirius, with a cheeky grin as he stroke past the elf, securing the clasp on his cloak. 'Don't worry, I won't be long.'

Happily anticipating the fresh air and bustle of London, Sirius grabbed the handle and promptly walked smack into the door as it refused to budge and he lost his grip. Sirius let out a small yelp of pain and surprise. He rattled the handle furiously but to no avail.

'Kreacher, open this –'

The words died in his throat as he turned his head.

The room was empty. The bloody elf had vanished.

Scowling, Sirius kicked at the door and rattled the handle again for good measure.

'Oh, come on!'

All efforts to open the door were ultimately in vain. It was magically sealed. No amount of yelling, cursing and kicking was going to open it. Extremely annoyed, Sirius gave it another good kick for good measure then stomped back to the bed and threw himself down on the mattress with a dramatic huff.

'Stupid elf,' he grumbled.

In a fit of childish temper, he shoved the breakfast tray, slopping the apple juice out of the goblet and almost spilling the pancakes onto the floor.

Again, Sirius was cursing the lack of a clock in this room. He was sure there used to be a carriage clock on the mantle of the fireplace, but the whole mantle was bare.

After what felt like an eternity, there was the sound of movement outside the door. Sirius lifted his head like a hunting dog, still and listening. As the bedroom door opened, he leapt up.

'About bloody time!'

He drew up short as he realised Regulus was stood in the doorway, his expression inscrutable, arms folded, looking scarily like their mother. The tableau complete with one skulking house elf peering up at Sirius from behind Regulus's legs.

'Good morning, Sirius. Have you had your breakfast?' asked Regulus, politely.

The tray of pancakes sat on the bedside table, clearly uneaten, although the stack had now slumped over into a sad messy pile.

'I'm not hungry. I just wanted to take a walk and the bloody elf locked the door in my face.'

The furious scowl Sirius levelled at the elf did nothing to shame the insubordinate little toerag.

Regulus remained impassive.

'You can't just go gallivanting about London, Sirius.'

'Why not?'

Regulus looked him up and down, haughty eyebrow raised.

'You aren't dressed for a start and you have an appointment.'

'I do?'

That was news to Sirius.

'Yes,' Regulus said, with only a mild touch of impatience. He stepped over the threshold, gently took Sirius's arm and steered him back towards the bed. 'The Healer is stopping by later to see you, check how you're getting on.'

'But –'

'No buts, Sirius,' Regulus said, quite firmly. 'I can't let you go out just because you want to - what if you suddenly forgot where you lived? Or about me and Kreacher? If the past decade is a blank for you, what would happen if you lost more?'

'I – ' Sirius trailed off, unsure of what to say to that. It hadn't occurred to him that his memory might be lost again.

'Until we know more about your condition, I don't want you taking such an unnecessary risk.'

'I wasn't going to go far,' protested Sirius, as he reluctantly allowed himself to be put back to bed, Kreacher pulling up the covers.

'Where were you planning on going? Camden?'

The flush on his brother's face gave away that Regulus had guessed correctly.

'How did you know …?'

'I'm your brother, Sirius, I know your habits. Honestly, I should have known that you'd try to sneak off, but then again, I'd forgotten that you have the mental age of an eleven year old child again.' He didn't seem angry. If anything, Reg seemed rather amused. 'I appreciate you're feeling a bit cooped up at the minute, but it is for your own good.'

'You sound like Mother,' grumbled Sirius under his breath, although without any real anger as Kreacher fluffed up his pillows, quite unnecessarily.

'Now, I trust you aren't about to try going out again as soon as I'm gone, are you? I'm worried enough about you as it is.'

Sirius opened his mouth to automatically argue the insinuation, but looking into those big brown eyes of his little brother, wide with concern, he faltered.

Reg save your life, remember? said a little voice in his head. Do you really want him worrying?

Sirius felt his resolve weaken.

'Fine,' he said with obvious reluctance.

Regulus beamed at him.

'Good! Now – eat your breakfast and I'll see you later for lunch, alright? Kreacher is here if you need anything.'

He made to leave.

'Wait, where are you off to? Can't you stay with me awhile?'

'Someone's got to run the estate while you're recuperating,' Regulus said with a smile. 'Don't worry about a thing – I've got it all in hand.'

Before Sirius could even respond, his brother had left the room, the door closing with a sharp snap.

Sirius slumped back against the pillows with a huff of disappointment. Had Regulus hung around Sirius would have asked if he'd like to play a game of chess or something.

The breakfast tray, pancakes magically righted, appeared on his lap.

Kreacher looked both satisfied with himself and slightly guilty as he was still avoiding Sirius's eye.

'Still can't help telling on me, can you?' grumbled Sirius. 'I'm not a child anymore!'

The childish whine didn't escape the notice of either of them.

'Master needs looking after,' said the elf. 'Master is unwell.'

Sirius huffed and grabbed a fork, not in the mood to keep arguing, and shoved a chunk of pancake into his mouth. The pancakes were divine – so soft and fluffy. Sirius made short work of them, admitting that he was actually quite hungry after all.

As he cleared the plate, Kreacher held out a goblet to him. Sirius took it and sipped it, pulled a face and hesitating after he had tasted it.

'More potion?'

'For Master's own good.'

Sirius rolled his eyes and downed the rest of the potion quickly to get it over with. As he handed back the empty goblet, he looked over at the window, listening to the faint sounds of the outside world beyond the glass.

It was so frustrating, but maybe the Healer would say it was ok for him to go out? Mother would often reiterate that a daily constitutional was required for good health. Maybe he could use that to his advantage? If Regulus was going to insist that he stay stuck in the house for days on end that was likely to drive Sirius crazy. Hopefully the Healer would be sympathetic to his plight.

Sirius hardly noticed the house elf clear the tray away.

The elf watched as the young wizard's eyes slowly closed and he slumped against the pillows. Once the sound of gentle snoring began, the elf resumed his duties of clearing the breakfast things, and straightening the bedcovers.

'Master is unwell,' intoned the elf to himself, as he placed the empty goblet back on the tray. 'Master needs his rest. Master will sleep.'

x.

After a morning of fitfully dozing, Sirius was roused when Kreacher returned at one in the afternoon to announce he was to have lunch in the parlour.

'Master must dress for luncheon with young master Regulus,' stated the elf, bustling about in the wardrobe.

'Oh, being allowed out of my cell now, am I?' yawned Sirius, trying to extract himself from under the bedcovers, 'Behaved myself enough?'

There was a clatter from inside the wardrobe. The elf stuck his head out but seemed to trying to avoid looking anywhere but directly at Sirius.

'Young master Regulus says you may join him for luncheon!' he squawked. 'Master needs to be dressed properly!'

Sirius stared at the elf as Kreacher withdrew into the depths of the wardrobe, hangers clattering.

Well, that was weird, even for a house elf. Maybe Kreacher was starting to go a bit senile? That would explain his odd behaviour today. His mother, Vermen, had served the family decades ago and she'd gone a bit strange towards the end of her life, according to Sirius's grandfather anyway. The story of her stupidly serving a wellington boot on a plate instead of the beef wellington that had been ordered had caused much humorous tittering and despairing shakes of the head in equal measure at family gatherings. She'd been relieved of her duties that evening and Kreacher had served them ever since.

Sirius groggily got out of bed and approached the wardrobe just as Kreacher re-emerged, holding aloft a simple dark grey day robe. The elf was still not looking at him.

Sirius felt a twinge of guilt. Poor old thing getting panicked over a silly little joke. He was only trying to do what Regulus had ordered him to do. It wasn't Kreacher's fault he was magically bound to obey.

'I'm just pulling your leg, Kreacher, don't worry about it,' Sirius said, patting the elf on the head fondly. 'Come on, buck up – I swear Reg is turning into mum – he'll be cross if I'm late and still in my pyjamas.'

That seemed to snap the elf out of his strange mood and he set about helping Sirius get ready.

Once Sirius was washed, dressed and deemed presentable, Kreacher escorted him to the door.

Sirius stepped out onto the landing and drew up short. Much like the bedroom he'd woken up in, the rest of the house appeared to have that same peculiarity of both familiarity and unknown. The layout was unchanged of course, but the décor had been tweaked. A new rug. Curtains replaced. Paintings and portraits switched positions. The carpet remained the same but it was certainly looking more worn in places; no doubt that was due to be replaced.

Realising that he was just stood there staring, Sirius noticed Kreacher had remained beside him, patiently waiting

'I do remember how to get to the parlour, you know,' he said a tad defensively.

The elf didn't respond beyond gesturing towards to the stairs with his gnarled hand.

The house seemed eerily quiet as they walked past all the sleeping portraits. That was really strange – it was the middle of the day.

'Hey, Kreach, why are all the portraits asleep?' asked Sirius as they passed his great-great uncle slumped against his ornate frame and drooling slightly in the stairwell. 'I know they're annoying sometimes but …'

'Young master Regulus ordered it.'

'Why?'

The look on the elf's face remained impassive – it was an order, it had been followed. Nothing for a servant to question.

Sirius rolled his eyes in annoyance but couldn't shake the feeling that this was more than a bit odd. Next thing he knew, they'd arrived outside the breakfast parlour.

Standing before the parlour door, Sirius hesitated. The last time he walked through that door everything in his life changed. His stomach flipped with the irrational fear that something else might be about to happen.

A gentle touch broke his reverie and he looked down at Kreacher. The big rheumy eyes seemed to have read his mind and the elf was offering what support he could, patiently waiting until his master was ready to proceed.

Steeling himself, Sirius grabbed the handle and quickly opened the door.

The parlour looked just as he remembered it from any other day.

Same old décor, same furniture, even the old gaslights hadn't been changed. As if time had stood still for this room alone.

The only difference was that the large mahogany table was set for two … not four.

Sirius felt a horrible knot in his stomach, looking at the empty seats where he'd last seen his mother and father. Suddenly feeling cold and sick, Sirius was extremely tempted to just go back to the bedroom and hide back under the covers.

The room looked so horribly empty with just two place settings.

'Ah, Sirius! Good to see you up!'

Regulus came bustling into the room behind him, making him start.

Regulus immediately went and sat down at the head of the table, not noticing the tears that his brother was hurriedly blinking away. Kreacher immediately started to serve the drinks.

Regulus pompously laid a napkin upon his lap then looked up.

Sirius was still loitering by the door.

'What's wrong?'

'That's father's seat,' said Sirius, quietly after a pause.

Regulus looked at him for a long moment, then rose from the seat and gestured to Kreacher. The elf hurriedly moved the place setting over to where Regulus had always sat as a child, to the left of where their father sat. Regulus walked round the table and took his old seat.

'Better?'

Sirius nodded. It seemed silly, really, but it did make him feel a little better.

The head of the table was father's seat … no one else should be sitting there right now … it didn't feel respectful …

Feeling Regulus's eyes on him, Sirius looked over at his brother.

'What?''

Regulus smiled and gave a small shrug.

'Nothing … I just haven't seen you like this for a while.'

'Like what?'

'Oddly quiet. Reserved.'

I've just lost my parents, and you expect me to be bouncing off the walls?, thought Sirius, quite irked at the comment. Reg seemed to have already forgotten that this was far too new a situation for his brother. Holding his tongue however, Sirius took his usual place at the table, opposite Regulus and to his father's right.

Merlin did the table seem empty without him.

The empty seat to his right, where mother always sat, lurked on the edge of his vision. Keeping his eyes resolutely on the plate in front of him, Sirius fidgeted, wondering how on earth this was ever going to feel remotely normal again.

Kreacher set about serving the first course; tidy little beef and horseradish sandwiches with a side salad. Sirius's mouth watered – another favourite of his. Kreacher seemed quite adamant that everything he served these last few days was specifically to Sirius's taste. Not that Sirius was thinking of complaining, but it was simply another little oddity he couldn't help but notice. None of Regulus's favourite tuna and cucumber sandwiches in sight.

Then, Kreacher placed a steaming mug of black liquid before Sirius. Sirius cocked his head in puzzlement – he knew what it looked like, but why was he being served it? Picking the mug up, he gave it a cautious sniff.

'Coffee?' he asked Regulus. He'd never been allowed it before.

Regulus smiled warmly.

'Yes, you started drinking it a few years back. I thought after your snooze this morning you might like a pick-me-up.'

Sirius wasn't convinced. He'd never even liked the smell before, and yet … something about it smelt (dare he even think it?) vaguely familiar.

Under Reg's watchful eye, he took a sip. It tasted delicious, much to his surprise. It was rich, not too bitter, and almost chocolatey. So different from the bitter version he remembered his mother and aunts drinking.

'That's the brew you insist on. Got rid of the other brand in short order.'

'That's because the other one smelt rank! I don't know how mother drank that stuff.'

Regulus picked up his own mug; Earl Grey with lemon judging by the smell. Just like their father used to drink.

They ate in relative silence, enjoying the food. It wasn't until Kreacher was in the midst of clearing the first course, that Regulus pointedly cleared his throat.

'Sirius, we need to talk.'

Oh god, that was never good. A forkful of salad froze halfway to his mouth.

'What did I do?' he asked, 'What did I do wrong?'

A smile tugged at Reg's mouth.

'You've done nothing wrong, per se, I'm just concerned about what happened this morning.'

Oh – that was what he'd done wrong. Of course.

'Now, I fully appreciate this is a strange new situation for both of us, but I've decided that it's in your best interests to be better informed as to what's happened over the past decade. Bring you up to speed on important events.'

Sirius confirmed that he was quite in agreement. A whole decade of history was missing from his mind after all.

'Now, your memory may spontaneously return at any moment, or it could take weeks or even months, so I feel it's best to explain a few things to you today.'

Regulus sat back, looking thoughtful as if pondering where best to start.

'Yesterday, you asked me why we were attacked,' he started, slowly.

Sensing the seriousness of the topic, Sirius put his fork down, Kreacher deftly clearing the empty plate and replacing it with another of fish cakes and dipping sauce.

'You said they were our enemies?'

'Yes, they are enemies of all wizarding society,' said Regulus gravely. 'Mudbloods and half-bloods have been infiltrating all areas of society and are corrupting the pure blood way of life. Laws are being passed, favouring them over wizards like us.'

Regulus paused as if giving that statement the gravitas it deserved.

'We are part of a political organisation that aims to correct that. Formally, we are the Knights of Walpurgis.'

Sirius's face lit up at that. Knights! Galant heroes of old! Some of his favourite story books were about wizard knights doing daring deeds and heroic quests. To think he'd grown up to actually be one? How exciting!

'Although, we are generally referred to as Death Eaters.'

Sirius almost choked on his coffee, half spraying it over the table.

'Death Eaters?' he managed to splutter as Kreacher rushed to clean up the mess. 'What kind of name is that? It sounds awful!'

Regulus shot his brother a caustic look.

'It is the name our Lord chose for us,' he said sternly. 'We are both high-ranking, honoured members … I do appreciate the name could perhaps be considered a little sinister sounding, but our cause is just.'

'Lord? Who's he?'

'Lord Voldemort is our revered leader and the future ruler of this country.'

Sirius shrugged.

'Never heard of him.'

'Of course you have – you just don't remember,' Regulus snapped, but his expression softened almost immediately. 'He's a great wizard and he's going to do great things for our country.'

Sirius nodded along as he listened. Father had often spoken of political matters with his own father … now Sirius was wishing he'd paid a bit more attention. He couldn't recall father ever mentioning a Lord of any kind.

'How did we end up joining? When did that happen?'

Regulus puffed up his chest proudly.

'We were headhunted whilst we were still in school. Naturally, as members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight our family was held in the highest regard – our Lord was made aware of our own prestigious magical talents and he reached out to our family, offering us prime positions within his organisation.'

'What did mother and father think?' asked Sirius, stabbing absentmindedly at the fish cakes with his fork.

'Oh, they were very pleased of course. They had our Lord over for dinner one evening, grandfather too, and they were all quite impressed with his proposal. Naturally, mother wanted us to complete our education before getting too involved. Father wanted to ensure that you were still trained in estate management once you'd graduated, but the Dark Lord has been very accommodating.'

'Dark Lord?'

Regulus airily waved this aside before Sirius could really question it.

'It's what the Daily Prophet has taken to calling him. Just because he uses certain brands of magic he's been painted as something of a villain to sell copies of the Daily Prophet.' Regulus scoffed and chuckled. 'I mean – we of all families know what it's like to be painted with that brush!'

'I remember,' agreed Sirius wistfully as his brother continued to chortle.

Being a Black by name and birth carried with it a certain reputation that had stuck with their family for hundreds of years, one that had spawned a particular saying often quoted behind hands in hushed, fearful tones by lower born wizards.

Blacks – as Dark as their name.

Their grandfather, Arcturus, had often snarled that it was 'all a matter of public spin!', proclaiming that no one blamed a mother bear for killing in defence of her cubs so why should the Blacks be vilified for using defensive and protective magic?

The reputation of torturing and killing was simply ancient history as far the Black elders were concerned, but the wizarding world did not forget so easily. Particularly when you had ruthless individuals like Arcturus managing the family businesses, and merciless witches like Bellatrix on the social circuit. One young wizard from Belgium had made the mistake of scoffing at Bella's hairdo one summer ball – the young witch had ensured he'd gone home with barely working kneecaps. Her father had so been proud of her hexwork, whilst her mother despaired of ever finding Bella a husband who would put up with such behaviour.

But, like all good Black children, Sirius, Regulus, and all their elder cousins had been trained to understand that they were above such idle gossip and obvious jealousy. Their position in society was as elevated as it could be and they had a duty to maintain that.

Of course, that meant making friends was difficult. Children presented as suitable playmates from the 'right families' were invariably girls instructed to endear themselves to the Blacks as future wives for their sons, and the boys were under instruction to 'make connections' for future business deals and hoping to catch the eye of any young eligible Black witch.

It was all a bit tedious when all little Regulus had wanted was someone willing to play Quidditch with them, and Sirius wanted a more challenging chess player to pit himself against.

That's a thought – I really ought to challenge Reg, see if he's gotten any better.

'So is it just Pure Bloods? Or are there any half-bloods?' asked Sirius.

'There are a few halves, certainly – but they generally have a specific skill or are well placed within the Ministry and sympathetic to our cause. Not just anyone can join our ranks, of course – it's strictly by invitation only. Rather like the Slug Club at Hogwarts – just more exclusive and somewhat more secretive.'

'So, we're like some kind of secret society?' asked Sirius. The Slug Club was certainly no secret. Many Blacks had been members over the years – Professor Slughorn, the founder of the club, was a semi-regular dinner guest. He simply couldn't wait for Sirius and Regulus to attend Hogwarts and join his elite club of the most promising and best connected young witches and wizards. Sirius wondered idly whether he had actually joined up but was distracted from asking as Regulus continued.

'In essence, yes,' Regulus conceded. 'Our work requires some finesse to ensure that control of the Ministry is absolute when it happens. We're facing some troublesome opposition who are resorting to secretive and underhand tactics to hinder and undermine our progress.'

'Is that who attacked us?'

Regulus nodded, clearly pleased that Sirius was paying attention.

'Yes - exactly! They're scum who see nothing wrong with assaulting members of the Sacred 28 – when all we're doing is putting the world to rights. Everyone will be better off when the Dark Lord is in power. We'll get rid of that awful headmaster immediately of course.

'It was his men that attacked us,' Regulus clarified when Sirius's face screwed up in confusion.

'The headmaster of Hogwarts … sent men to attack us?' Sirius said, slowly and clearly baffled. That just sounded crazy!

Regulus nodded, grimly.

'He did. Albus Dumbledore has formed an opposing organisation. They call themselves the Order of the Phoenix. They operate in secret, outside of Ministry control and regulations and their sole purpose is to disrupt our activities.

'We, on the other hand, are trying to change things for the better in conjuncture with the Ministry. Out activities are perfectly legal for the most part.'

The most part – that usually translated as bribes. Their grandfather had made no secret of what kind of dealings went on at the Ministry to get certain laws passed and delay others. It was all part and parcel of politics.

As for Albus Dumbledore, that was a name Sirius didn't need to be reminded of. Their parents had been most displeased to hear that the Muggle-loving do-gooder transfiguration professor had been promoted to headmaster. They'd voiced concerns of 'ridiculous reformations' as the school and argued that wasn't Horace Slughorn a better choice?'

Obviously their cause for concern had been justified, if Dumbledore was now heading a renegade vigilante group out to meddle in political matters that were of no concern to a mere school teacher.

Sirius bristled defensively at the thought.

'Why haven't the Ministry put a stop to him?'

'Because he's a clever little weasel, in spite of his flaws. Trying to identify who is working for him is difficult – they're more secretive than we are! And the other issue we have is that he is rather well liked and respected in many circles – not so much with the Sacred Twenty-Eight of course; no one in our circles approves. Many of the common people think he's just a wise old learned man who ought to be respected – not enough people see him for the manipulative shrew he really is.'

'To think he's influencing young minds at Hogwarts right now,' Regulus shook his head. 'Thankfully, we stayed true during our time there – we were too clever and didn't fall for his tricks. Allying ourselves with Lord Voldemort is going to achieve so much in the long run. However, our alliance has made us prime targets of the Order.

Particularly you, Sirius.'

That caught Sirius by surprise.

'Me? Why me?'

'You're the heir to a great House for a start – the greatest of the Pure Blood Houses - you're a powerful ally to Lord Voldemort and our cause. With our family connections, financial backing and influence there's so much we can do to further his agenda. You're practically his right hand man.'

'We've known for a while that both of us were likely targets for an attack.' Regulus gave a huff of annoyance and shook his head. 'I knew we should have had a personal security detail assigned. We knew the Order was planning something but we didn't know what. Neither of us thought they'd try to kill us both in broad daylight.'

A cold chill washed over Sirius. They both could have died …

'They were actually trying to kill us?' That was a horrible sobering thought.

'They'd kill any of us if they could,' said Regulus, rather matter-of-factly. 'Personally, I suspect they feel that if they could severely wound either of us, it would give the public the impression that we are weak.

'Now – obviously, they've no idea that they've been somewhat successful in their attack on us - that's why you are currently out of the public eye. We can't have them believing that they've struck a blow to the cause. We've put the word out that you're absolutely fine and currently on the continent with our Lord, assisting him personally with recruitment to explain your absence.'

'Is that where he is now?'

'It's unlikely. He tends to keep his exact whereabouts secret unless it's necessary. Should the Order plot an attack against him directly, they'll have a hard time tracking him down.'

'In any case, I'm under orders to keep you safe and hidden here in Grimmauld Place until you're well again. That's a direct order from our Lord. Now do you understand why I didn't want you wandering off out into London on your own?' Regulus looked grave. 'You're a vulnerable target right now and I can't be worrying about whether you're safe here or in danger because you've decided you want to sneak out behind my back.'

Sirius wondering for a moment whether Regulus could read his mildly traitorous thoughts of giving Kreacher the slip and venturing out – until this conversation he'd been sure it wouldn't be that dangerous …

'I need you to promise me that you won't go sneaking out like you used to. It's just too dangerous.'

Sirius opened his mouth to say yes of course, but instead he asked, 'Did I use to sneak out a lot?'

Regulus shot him a shrewd, knowing look.

'More often than I'm aware of, I'm sure. You were caught no end of times and punished for it, but you kept finding new ways to sneak out. Drove mother and father mad.'

Sirius squirmed a little, partly from guilt and partly feeling rather pleased with himself. Sounded like he'd been a bit of rebellious teenager. Sneaking out undetected … a feat in itself with Kreacher always on the prowl … I wonder how I managed it … maybe I can figure it out …

'Sirius?' The coldness in Regulus's voice was surprisingly sharp.

'Yeah, of course,' said Sirius, slightly lost in his own thoughts. 'I won't go sneaking out.'

Something in Regulus's eyes flickered and Sirius wondered if his brother believed him.

'They could be watching the house,' Regulus continued his lecture. 'They might be waiting around to see if you're here. If you were to venture out alone … well, I'm terrified that they may try to lure you away … try to kidnap you, hurt you … or worse …'

Regulus trailed off, clearly becoming too distressed at all the possible horrible outcomes. Sirius instantly felt guilty about his musings of sneaking out.

'I – I can't risk losing you, Sirius.' Regulus spoke softly and his eyes were starting to shine with barely held back tears. 'We have so little family left now.'

'You're not going to lose me, Reggie,' said Sirius, as firmly as he could. He meant it. 'I'm right here – I'm fine!'

Regulus looked down at his plate, avoiding his elder brother's gaze.

'I'm sorry I wasn't able to prevent you from getting hurt,' he said.

'No! Don't apologise! It wasn't your fault they attacked us! Anyway, you got me out of there before they could do anything else to us.'

Regulus gave a sad sigh and nodded. He was clearly feeling responsible for it all and Sirius wasn't sure at all what to say to convince him he wasn't.

After all, what did he remember about what had happened?

'Reg – I promise you … I won't go out unless you say it's ok. You don't need to worry about me.'

In that moment, Sirius meant what he said. The crushing despair on his baby brother's face wasn't half a guilt trip to good behaviour.

Regulus smiled and nodded in acknowledgement of his brother's words, still too overcome to speak.

All at once, Regulus sat up straight, looking all business as Kreacher reappeared to clear the table.

'Thank you, Kreacher, excellent as always. Sirius, you'd best get back upstairs to bed and rest. I've got an appointment to keep this afternoon, but I trust you'll be joining me for dinner this evening?'

Sirius shrugged, nonchalant.

'Sure, I've got nowhere to be,' he drawled sarcastically, which Reg appeared not to notice or simply chose to ignore as he rose from his seat.

'Well, I'm sure you'd rather we talk about something a bit lighter than politics over dinner.'

'Hogwarts?' asked Sirius, hopefully. They hadn't really had a chance to broach that subject yet.

Regulus smiled, a genuinely warm one this time.

'Absolutely. I look forward to it.'

Just for a moment, Sirius felt just how he should have been before he blacked out – excited about Hogwarts … like he was eleven again.

It wasn't going to be the same as actually living it for sure, but it was as close as he was going get right now.

Regulus patted him on the shoulder as he walked past, heading for the door.

And Sirius, I don't want you to worry about the Order – we'll find out exactly who is responsible for what's happened to you and bring them to justice.'

After being escorted back to his room, Sirius accepted an offer of another coffee from Kreacher, and resumed his perch on the window seat.

Looking down at the people outside had a much darker feel to it than it had had this morning.

They could be watching the house … they might be waiting around to see if you're here.

This morning, nothing but innocent people going about their own business … now everyone outside was a possible enemy agent … looking for an opportunity to attack …

That innocent-looking couple this morning … wizards in disguise? The children playing … transfigured adults … Polyjuice potion … they could even be just plain invisible.

Sirius winced as his head throbbed. The mounting worry was clearly giving him a headache.

Regulus was right.

There was no telling who any of these people really were. And if the Order was after him …

Sirius suddenly noticed a man on the far side of the square looking over towards number 13. Sirius sharply withdrew from the window, hiding behind the curtain …. then reminded himself that Number 13 was invisible to Muggles and uninvited wizards.

Slowly, he peered back out of the window.

The man he'd thought was looking at him was now walking off out of the square, paying number 13 no mind. Much like everyone else in the square.

'Idiot,' Sirius murmured to himself, half telling his reflection off. 'You're invisible in here – they can't see you if you don't go outside. Don't need to be so paranoid …'

Yet, he added silently.

Lost in thought, Sirius considered whether he'd actually be able to spot an Order member if he saw one. The Muggle fashions of this decade were all new to Sirius – how would he know if someone was dressed oddly and potentially in disguise?

As much as he didn't want to admit it, Reg was right. Sirius was vulnerable. The world outside wasn't as sunny and carefree as it looked. He was a political target of some bloodthirsty vigilantes who wanted to harm him and his family. Sirius had no means to defend himself, especially as he didn't have a wand.

Wand? Hang on a minute, don't I have -

'Master Sirius?'

Sirius jumped about a foot in the air. Kreacher was beside him, holding out a steaming mug of coffee.

'Merlin's pants, Kreach – don't sneak up me like that!'

Heart pounding, Sirius snatched the mug out of the elf's hands and slumped back down.

The elf looked towards the window, then, as if he had read Sirius's worried mind, said gently, 'Master Sirius is safe here … young master Regulus and Kreacher will keep him safe.'

Sirius nodded. He trusted them.

Sirius held up the steaming mug.

'Any chance of some biscuits?'

The old elf's hairy ears flapped happily.

'I will make Master's favourite,' he croaked, and vanished to the kitchen.

Sirius sat at the window for little while longer, then sighed. With nothing else to do, he got down from the seat and laid down on the bed to await his freshly baked chocolate chip biscuits, away from the window and the prying eyes of the outside world.