Regulus had spent days thinking about what he and Bellatrix had talked about. The images of the fight were pushed to the back of his mind as he went over her words. Right and wrong didn't exist; the Blacks were above societal restrictions of right and wrong... her behaviour when it came to the Dark Lord was frightening, but he knew she meant well and would never hurt him, or anyone else who didn't have it coming—she said so herself! So why did he feel so badly about it, if there was nothing wrong with what she said? She had saved him. Like she said, those Aurors were out to hurt him. He shuddered as he remembered the jets of red light and the flashes of green came to save him. Red was bad and green was good, that was how it had always been, so why would it be any different now?

They had decided to go home now that they were safe. Upon coming home, Kreacher had been most kind to them, offering them the best dinner he had eaten in weeks! With Kreacher at home, and Uncle Alphard not having any house elves, they had been stuck eating the food Uncle Alphard knew how to prepare, which wasn't an awful lot. Kreacher's cooking was far superior and Regulus was delighted to be home again, not just for his cooking—though it did play a big part—but also because the atmosphere was so much different at home. It felt far more familiar and safe.

After dinner, Regulus had gone to his bedroom, to find three letters, all from Sirius. He had been instructed to sleep, or at least rest, but curiosity got the better of him. These were Sirius' letters, after all—they couldn't just expect him to leave them for later! Especially on Sirius' birthday. It was bad enough he hadn't been allowed to send him an owl today.

He checked the dates and opened the earliest one, which had been sent on the second of September that year, just after the school year had started. Thinking back, they had fled the Muggle house that day, to go to Uncle Alphard's. It had only been a month, yet it felt like an eternity. He hoped and prayed the letter wouldn't tell him of such adventures on Sirius' side, he needed his big brother to be safe at Hogwarts, if only because that's where he was going next September, and it was scary enough without adding extra dangers. And so, he started to read:

Dear Regulus,

Guess what? I'm a Gryffindor! Can you believe it? It's really exciting, honestly! It's like night and day compared to the atmosphere back at home and I've already made a few friends! I'm really happy here, and I'm proud to be a Gryffindor. I'm the first Black not in Slytherin in over a century so it was quite a shock to everyone in the hall.

How are you? I really miss you, but we'll be together soon. I'll come home for Christmas and Easter and the summer holidays... and then you'll come with me to Hogwarts! Maybe you'll be in Gryffindor too. You could be, you know. The hat listens to you.

How are things going for you at home? I hope Mother and Father are treating you well. Please don't tell them about my sorting, I can already imagine their reaction, and you shouldn't have to deal with it.

Take care, little brother. Write back soon and let me know how everything is.

Love,

Sirius

He had to read the letter several times to let the contents sink in, but on the third read it dawned on him: his brother had betrayed them all. At that realisation he crumbled up the letter as he called his fists. How dare he proudly declare himself a Gryffindor, how dare he—his own flesh and blood, his brother—expect Regulus not to tell anyone when this went against everything they ever stood for, in times like these? He knew Sirius had always been a bit rebellious, but this was more than simple rebellious behaviour, this was more than him trying to annoy their parents or ask stupid questions. This was serious business—and he couldn't just hide it. It wasn't simple like being in love with someone, something he could keep a secret. This went deeper than that.

As he left his bedroom, the crumpled letter clutched tightly in his fist, he told himself that he was right in telling his parents. They deserved to know, for Sirius' safety. The headmaster ran that Phoenix order, and Sirius threw himself straight into the lion's den! With no easy access to Evan, who knows if Sirius even realised these dangers.

He went downstairs, hoping his parents would be in the drawing room. It was still early for adults, after all. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

To his relief, his mother called: "Enter."

He opened the door and stepped inside, his hands trembling slightly.

"Regulus? What's wrong?" Father had hurried over upon seeing him, and Regulus tried to find the right words.

"Sirius- he- a letter... Gryffindor..." he mumbled and held out his arm, the one with the letter.

His father took it, unfolded it, and read. The silence was deafening. Mother was still seated on the sofa, her face unreadable but paler than ever before.

"He's mocking us, Walburga."

The silence was broken at once. "How dare he!" Mother yelled. "After everything we've done, he-, he-"

"He's a Gryffindor," Father filled in. "Yes, you did well in tells us this, Regulus."

Mother continued to yell things as she now angrily paced the room.

"You should get some sleep," Father said. "We'll discuss this in the morning."

"I can't find my puffskein," he blurted out. It was true, his puffskein seemed to have disappeared, and he missed the pet greatly.

"You're ten. I'm sure you can manage one more night without. We'll look for it in the morning. Go to bed, Regulus."

"Yes, Father."

Regulus left the room and couldn't help but feel a mix of guilt, worry, and sadness as he went up the stairs to the topmost landing. He passed Sirius' empty room on the way to his own. The door was wide open, and he cast one last look inside his brother's room, before closing the door and retreating into his own, ready to go to sleep.

-

They couldn't find his puffskein. They had looked all day—all week, even—but the little animal seemed to have disappeared without a trace, leaving Regulus devastated.

He hadn't read the other letters Sirius had sent out of spite. He had settled back into life at home, it had been close to two weeks of living here again and even though he was still alone, he loved it. He loved to wake up in his own bedroom and to stare at the Black family crest for hours on end. He loved to just walk around the house, taking in his surroundings, memorising the way it looked—for he knew that come September, he would have to leave it all behind again. His lessons with his parents continued, and although they were lonely without his brother, they brought back a sense of normality that he had greatly missed when they were staying at Uncle Alphard's, nevermind their short stay in that awful Muggle place.

But now, Bellatrix and Andromeda were over, not for any reason in particular, they said, although the topic of Sirius' sorting came up almost immediately—Andromeda had been the one to start.

"I heard Sirius is a Gryffindor," she said.

Even just mentioning Sirius or Gryffindor was enough to set off Mother, and as always, she started screaming on the other side of the room.

"Cissy told us," said Bellatrix. "We didn't want to bother you with it, with everything going on."

"Yeah, but now, we wanted to know how you're coping with this."

"I'm fine. We're fine..."

Mother was still screaming at the wall about how despicable Gryffindor was.

"Well, Mother's having a rough time," he corrected.

Bellatrix chuckled. "That much is obvious. She's always liked to overreact."

He mustered a small smile. It was true, Mother was a bit of a drama queen, but he understood where she was coming from. He was angry, too, the only difference was that he was better at staying calm, at least outwardly.

"I wish he wasn't in Gryffindor," he said. "He even wants me to join him there!"

"You shouldn't worry that much, Regulus. The hat will know where to sort you," said Andromeda.

"But what if that's Gryffindor?"

Mother's screams in the background intensified at the mention of Gryffindor.

"It won't be," said Bellatrix firmly.

"Why?"

"Because you're better than him, Reg. You'll get into Slytherin, you're the good son."

He was the good son. Or at least, he tried to be—Sirius was enough of a troublemaker for both of them. And as the better son, of course he'd get into Slytherin. And if he didn't, he'd personally wrestle the hat until he was. Or he'd leave, yes, if he wasn't a Slytherin he'd just leave and ask to be transferred to Durmstrang.

-

November was coming to an end, and Regulus still hadn't opened his other letters from Sirius, but that was about to change.

He hadn't wanted to read them. He was still very angry at his brother and didn't want to know what else he had to say. But he hadn't got any more letters from him and it was starting to worry him. What if something had happened and his brother was in danger, and he could have prevented it if he just read those letters?

With trembling hands, he unfolded the second letter, dated to the fourteenth of September, and read:

To my dearest brother (Regulus, that's you),

It's been 2 weeks. Are they keeping my letters from you? If so: Mother, Father, bog off.

Reggie, please let me know how they're treating you. Don't let them brainwash you into hating me, and please don't be angry with my decision to break tradition and be in Gryffindor.

I hope you understand. Please, Regulus, let me know if you're okay. It would mean the world to me.

Missing you,

Sirius

He tossed the letter aside, angry at his brother's accusations that their parents would keep them from writing each other. The audacity! He started to regret reading the letter in the first place, but decided that since he was already reading, he might as well finish the job. He read the third and last letter, dated to the twentieth of October:

Regulus,

I'm worried sick! I just know there has to be a reason you're not writing back, and I know what the reason is. Please find a way around them. Please let me know if you're okay.

Mother, Father, I hate you. I hate you both. There, I said it. Don't keep us apart, we're brothers! You can't do such a thing! MONSTERS! That's what you are, monsters! Just you wait till Christmas break...

Sirius

Regulus couldn't believe what he was reading, his brother never even stopped to consider that something else could be the reason he didn't respond to his letters, he just had to jump to conclusions—and the wrong ones, at that. He shouldn't have been surprised by that, since it seemed to be Sirius' special talent to interpret things wrong and come to the wrong conclusions, but he had hoped that he wouldn't do it with such important matters...

He wanted to write to him, tell him all about what had happened, but with each letter he read, with each assumption he made, with every mean comment towards their parents this desire disappeared more and more. If he didn't want to keep an open mind, if he wanted to think their parents were horrible monsters, then so be it. It was clear to him that Sirius cared very little for the family, and Regulus was fed up with it.

It didn't even necessarily anger him as much as the first letter had, or perhaps it was a different kind of anger. He could think clearly, he wasn't shaking, he didn't have the urge to destroy his goods (though destroying the letters was tempting). No, he was completely fine in that regard. It was some sort of acceptance. Sirius had made his decision, he chose to turn his back on tradition, and that meant he chose to turn his back on the family.

But the more he reasoned why Sirius wouldn't want to be a part if the family, the more he felt suffocated, as if something was quite literally pulling the air out of his lungs. He knew he needed fresh air, but the window wouldn't work. He needed out.

He stormed out of his room, down the many stairs, not thinking of anything but outside, not paying attention where he was going. And before he even reached the ground floor, he had hit something hard. A person. His father.

"Regulus," his father's voice was cold, which only made Regulus feel worse. "What is the meaning of this? Running around like a wild dog."

Regulus struggled to find his voice, his throat was dry and his tongue was like sandpaper as he realised his father would be less-than-pleased with the reason he was running around this place. Blacks didn't run unless it was a life-or-death situation, and a letter certainly wasn't. And running because of emotions was definitely not done. "I... I needed some air, Father..." he was sure his father would get angry at him for behaving this way, he knew he had disappointed him by acting like a child over these letters. He was ten years old!

But when he looked into his father's eyes, he saw no anger or disappointment, only concern.

"Regulus, are you alright?" He gently placed a hand on Regulus' shoulder, his touch surprisingly comforting. At his father's touch, Regulus nearly broke down, but he was determined not to show his vulnerability—he was determined to be the good son like Bellatrix had called him. The better son.

"I'm fine, Father."

His father's grip on his shoulder tightened for a moment before he slowly released it. His gaze bore into Regulus, as if he was searching for something. After what felt like an eternity, his father let out a long sigh and Regulus realised he hadn't been successful in concealing his feelings. "You must learn to control your emotions, Regulus. A true Black does not succumb to such displays of weakness."

"Yes, Father."

"Let's walk together. The fresh air might do us both some good."

His father took him with him down the rest of the stairs in silence. Through the hall, in silence. Out the front door, still in silence.

"Something has upset you, Regulus. I can see it in your eyes. Please, tell me what's troubling you." His father broke the silence after they left their street.

"It's... it's nothing, Father," he said. "Just..." he paused for a moment, thinking about the letters once more.

"It's Sirius..." he admitted.

"I expected as much," his father replied. "I understand the bond between brothers is a strong one-"

"No. I'm sorry, but no," Regulus interrupted. "He blames you, he blames Mother, he said some really hurtful things... I hate him."

"Don't say that."

"But it's true!"

His father pulled him into an alleyway, for some privacy. "Hate is a very strong word," he said calmly, "and I advise you to not use it whenever you're angry at someone. Sirius is your brother—yes, he is a troublemaker, and yes, he is too impulsive for his own good, but Gryffindor or not, he is still your brother and you do not speak of your brother like that. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Father..."

He had a point. Regulus knew he had a point, it was why he avoided his gaze and kept staring at the cobblestones in the street instead. He couldn't bring himself to admit his father was right and he was wrong, Sirius' words haunted him, he had accused their parents of such hideous things!

"He wrote to us as well, letters filled with insults and accusations—it will be dealt with when he comes back. It's not something you have to worry about."

"But I can't just let him call you and Mother monsters!"

Father smiled ever so briefly. "Of course you can. Ignore him, Regulus. All he wants is for you to react. Do not give him that satisfaction, do not interact with him about these topics. Listen to me—Gryffindor is a dangerous place, and Sirius doesn't realise it now, but the people he is surrounded by are working hard to bring us down. They will get into his head. Promise me one thing, Regulus. Don't let him get to you. Don't let him convince you he's right, and we're wrong. Don't follow in his footsteps."

"I won't let you down."

"I know you won't. You never have."

Regulus could have sworn he saw pride glimmering in his father's eyes as he took Regulus' arm and they returned home.