Blanching, he cautiously approached the body, convinced that it was a corpse, but seventeen-year-old bodies tended to give off a rotting smell that this one did not. What on earth could have kept his brother frozen at eighteen for almost two decades?
Laying on long-fingered hand Regulus' smaller one, he nearly jumped back in surprise. He was ice-cold, and yet… beneath his pale, paper-thin skin, there was a pulse. It was slow, sluggish, and yet it was there, constant and unstopping. Relief flooded him, and it was undoubtedly surprising. Hadn't their last words been 'I hate you'? And yet as he gazed into his brother's face, taking in the familiar hair, cheekbones, lips, pale skin, he realized just how much he missed the silly little boy. No matter how angry or disappointed he was with Regulus, no matter how they argued over the stupidest of things, he would always see the young child that had been his little shadow for years.
Watching his brother's still form brought certain unwelcome memories to mind, and so he repressed them, instead setting his brain to work. What could have caused his brother's unaging state, and left him nearly dead? Contrary to popular belief, Sirius wasn't dumb, and as the little pieces, fell into place, he realized exactly what was wrong with Regulus.
"Kreacher!" He bellowed. The greenish, wrinkled thing appeared, grumbling angrily under his breath. As he raised his head, he spotted the boy and began wailing loudly.
"Master Regulus! Master Regulus! How did you find him?"
Sighing impatiently, Sirius snapped. "Never you mind, just give me the antidote to the Draught of Living Death. Now." The old house-elf looked mutinous, but he could not disobey a direct order from his master; instead, he settled for a look of utmost loathing and disgust before disapparating with a loud crack.
The silence that followed was deafening. Finally, Harry broke it with a tentative question.
"Who is that?"
Moody was the one who answered shortly. "The other half of the infamous Black brothers; Regulus Black. Prominent Death Eater, suspect in the McKinnons' disappearance, and in the murder of the Greens. Disappeared one day about twenty years ago; a cold case." Instinctively, the children edged away from the bed, and Sirius smiled grimly. He knew that his brother had gotten really deep into the mess years ago, but of course, Harry and the rest of kids did not grow up
in the war; they didn't understand that it was in for a penny, in for a pound. They didn't sit in the Great Hall, watching people get black envelopes form the Ministry and weeping, wondering who would be next. They didn't understand that it was kill, or be killed. Regulus had chosen his side before he had even graduated, and this was the price he paid.
A crack resounded through the room, jolting them out of their thoughts, and a few jumped. Kreacher had returned. Giving Sirius his best look of hate, he dumped the potion into his master's hands, but strangely, instead of leaving the room like he was wont to do when Sirius was around, he stayed behind to watch. Ignoring the little elf, Sirius turned back to his younger brother and reached carefully the boy's nose, and pinched it.
Predictably, even in his near-death state, he still needed oxygen, and his lips fell open, in which Sirius wasted no time in pouring down the entire vial down his throat, in which the younger Black began coughing and spluttering, and the bluish tint began to fade from his face. Under Sirius' touch, he could feel his brother warming and coming back to life. Still, those thin eyelids did not flutter.
"He is going to relive the last few moments of his life." Remus, the ever-bookish one, muttered softly under his breath. Unspoken in his old friend's words was a warning. You may not like what you hear.
But Sirius chose not to heed the warning; there were just some things he had to know. And unfortunately, most involved his brother.