Before anyone starts having ideas about the use of the Core in the war, I'll say this: using it is taxing, and there are rules, such as the Lord of the House of Black has to be touching it to use it, and it can't be moved. So no, it's not a reliable weapon.

Chapter 28: Let the lights out

Sirius walked straight back to the manor. His head was full of curious thoughts about the Dark Mark, about what he had uncovered during the night. He wasn't yet sure what he'd do with this knowledge, hell, he wasn't sure there was something he could do with it, or something he'd be willing to do with it, but experimenting on the Dark Mark had taught him one thing. No matter the spell, every magic could be undone.

Given the right amount of power, of course. And under some circumstances. And with a willing subject.

All of which he had a snowball chance in hell to find. For the amount of power needed, Sirius had an idea, but for the other two... Especially the willing subject. Where was he supposed to find a Death Eater who wanted to defect, and that he himself would want to save? Defecting was, amongst them, mostly something cowards did; he had no use for a weak-willed ex-Death Eater.

In fact, Sirius wasn't sure why exactly he was obsessing about the matter.

But it certainly wouldn't leave his mind alone.

He finally arrived at the manor. The night was coming around, and the small lights which lit the dark walls of Black Manor had something of an ominous glow to themselves. For some reason, Sirius thought this night was being gloom, and perhaps a reminder of the darker days ahead of him.

Maybe it was because Harry had left for Hogwarts, and he was finding himself alone again. He doubted it, because he had never been someone who resented loneliness, as long as he kept his liberty. And again, he wasn't completely alone. There were the magical dogs and other animals on the property, there was Sterhn, there was Bellatrix's ghost. He could even call Kreacher to have a tea party, if he wanted. Not that he would.

Speaking of which, where was Bella?

The ghost had a tendency to either wander around the grounds, or to hover in the Manor, but if there was one thing she never failed to do, it was to come and con news out of him each time he got out of the property. Because technically speaking, Bella could get out and away from him, unless he ordered her otherwise, but neither of them thought it a smart move when all the magical community would try to hex her on sight.

Bella knew he had gone to King's Cross, and that there was a high possibility he'd see Narcissa there. If only for that, she should have been stalking him since he'd gotten past the gates.

But the ghost wasn't here.

Sirius told himself that maybe she hadn't noticed it was getting so late. After all, he had no idea how being a ghost affected someone's internal clock. What he knew was that she didn't need to sleep, eat or anything else anymore. It had to be confusing.

And he had told her he'd be back sometime in the evening, no actual hour. He had had to deal with some Order business first, and it had taken quite some time. Maybe Bella wasn't expecting him yet.

Sirius pushed open the main door, his mind on an edge. All these were perfectly good reasons, but the very fact that he was mulling over possible reasons made him feel like there was something wrong. If he couldn't convince himself, how could he believe there wasn't something suspicious about the lack of Bellatrix Black at his side?

And he had thought the setting of Black Manor felt ominous this evening... Difficult not to be superstitious when you were a wizard. Sirius might not believe in omens, it didn't mean he couldn't simply have picked up something weird, without actually being able to indicate what was wrong. For all he knew, this feeling of unease was his subconscious telling him he should have noticed the signs...

Right, now he was simply turning paranoid. Not that he wasn't to begin with. Just, now it was getting worse.

So... No one was trying to kill him. Probably. Or, at least, not in this time and place. Because, he was pretty certain there actually were a few people who would love to kill him, or even just see it as a beneficial event. So, to be accurate, there was probably someone trying to kill him, just, not now, not at his own place, with the heavy Black wards to guard him.

Of all places, Black Manor wasn't the one where he should feel paranoid.

The entrance to the manor was empty, as expected. No murderer lurking in the shadows, if anything. No Bella hovering around, either.

But Sirius' eyes wandered to the dining room. The doors were open.

And he was reasonably sure he hadn't let them open this morning. Besides, if he had, he was absolutely certain Sterhn would have closed them behind him at some point of the day. So, there were no reason for the doors to be open.

Unless someone from the household had come to visit, and had asked the house-elf to keep the doors open.

Considering Andromeda would have told him beforehand, Tonks was busy playing auror, Juliet wasn't even in the country, and he seriously doubted that Narcissa would be willing to see him after this morning, Sirius was hitting a dead-end. There was absolutely no one still alive to whom Sterhn would have obeyed, and who could be here this evening. So logically, there shouldn't be anyone in the manor aside from himself. Certainly not someone from the family. Though only Black Family members could practically be here.

But Sirius had checked the family tree. There were no other members of the House of Black besides himself, Juliet and the cousins. None who still lived, if anything. And moreover, Juliet wasn't yet a complete member of the family. There wasn't anyone els...

For one moment, Sirius was tempted to call for Bellatrix. Now he had an idea as to the reason why she hadn't come to pester him sooner. Whoever was in the manor, she accompanied. And if he called her now, he could ask her who was in there.

But he didn't call.

Sirius walked faster to the double doors of the dining room. He could hear his own blood pumping through his body, rattling at his temples. His brain was working, but into nothingness. He was thinking, true. But the thoughts never quite reached him. It was just some kind of background noise.

A very invading, very upsetting background noise.

The more steps he took to the dining room, the more oppressed he felt. The rumble of his thoughts pressed upon his consciousness. The sound of his shoes against the hard floor of black stone resonated at his ears. The darkness seemed a bit darker every second.

Sirius never even thought to switch on the light orbs. It wouldn't have taken much energy, but he had the feeling that if he even did one unnecessary thing, he would lose so much time that it'd be too late when he got into the dining room. That if he took one instant off, the growing void behind him would catch up and swallow him.

Those weren't rational thoughts.

Even Sirius Black could lose himself to irrationality from time to time.

Sirius passed the doors.

The dining room was dimly lit, only by the stars outside, and by the greyish form of Bella hovering near the wall with the family tree, far, far away, on the other side of the room. It seemed so far away, Sirius almost did not catch the other form standing by the wall, only revealed by the faint light coming from the ghost herself.

For a moment, Sirius thought that, perhaps, it was only himself hallucinating. It wouldn't be the first time his behavior was a crazy man's. He wouldn't dare qualify himself as sane, after all.

Or maybe Andromeda had sent an owl before coming, but he hadn't paid attention.

The young lord Black wasn't exactly here, present, as he quickly advanced to the ghost and his visitor. Later on, he'd say he had no memory of the time between his arrival to the manor, and what would follow.

Lord Black stopped about six feet from the two others. For a time they simply watched, without a word. Bellatrix wasn't even sure there was something to say, at that point.

What could possibly be said in this situation?

She couldn't see the expression on Sirius' face. The room was too dark, the atmosphere too tense. She wasn't even sure Sirius had recognized their visitor, with the current lack of light. But she could tell, without a doubt, that her cousin had guessed enough.

A man's voice rose from the shadowed form.

"I doubt you ever believed you'd see me again, brother."

The voice was a bit strangled. Just a bit. After all, if Regulus Black had never been as perfect a Black as his older brother, he still was a Black. A pureblood, with pureblooded manners, and a slytherin upbringing.

There was no way he'd let all his emotions be heard in his voice, or seen on his face, just like that.

Even if it had been years since they had seen each other.

Regulus wasn't feeling good, truth be told. His stomach felt like someone was bending it in unnatural ways, and his throat was so dry he didn't know how he'd managed to sound so normal to begin with. He had let the lights out, because he wasn't sure he could quite face his brother right away, but now...

Now he couldn't see Sirius' face, and he had absolutely no idea what his brother was thinking.

For now, not seeing seemed to be worse than the contrary.

Regulus glanced at Bellatrix. She noticed his movement, and shrugged, unhelpful.

It kind of baffled him how different she was as a ghost. As a sane person, too. The sole fact that Sirius was tolerating her was proof enough that the family of now was completely different from what Regulus remembered.

A photograph from the Daily Prophet reminded itself to his mind, and Regulus tensed. He had read about how using the Reciprocation curse had turned Sirius back into his old self, he had seen the recent pictures, on which his older brother looked so much younger than he did himself, but still. Regulus had that particular photograph from Azkaban printed in his skull.

He had seen it three years ago, after Sirius' miraculous escape. At the time, "Regulus Black" hadn't even existed in his mind, he had only been Cadfael White.

The picture of his brother in prison garb, his own family name printed right next to it hadn't triggered anything. Cadfael hadn't gotten the slightest bit of memory from that article. He hadn't felt, deep inside himself, that what was written in the article could only be wrong. He hadn't watched with anything more than mild disgust the photograph of a physically deprived man.

In fact, he had only been disgusted by himself, as his eyes had wandered to the horrid tattoo on his arm. Even as Cadfael White, he had learned what it meant, what it was. It hadn't taken him a long time to figure out that, whoever he truly was, that person was a bastard and a Death Eater. And the escaped prisoner in this article? He was someone like him. A murderer. A monster.

Cadfael White had shredded the Prophet into bits, and gone to throw up in the toilets. He hadn't thought about Sirius Black once after that, unless the newspapers had reminded him of this unpleasant character.

And then Cadfael White had remembered, just as Sirius Black had reinstated the House of Black and its members, who he truly was. Why he had lost his memories. Who Sirius Black, the monster who had escaped from Azkaban, was to him.

A few weeks had passed since then, but every time he thought about the photograph, Regulus wanted to vomit. The sunken eyes, the yellow skin, the shaggy hair. The ribs, visible under the old prison uniform. The scars he knew to be there, pale against the greasy look of Sirius' skin. And still, the fire in the silver eyes.

How had he not recognized those eyes? He saw them every day in the mirror, he saw them each time he looked at his son.

How had none of the few witches and wizards he knew as Cadfael White thought he had to be affiliated to the House of Black, one way or another? Only the Blacks had this shade of quicksilver in their eyes. Only the Blacks.

Regulus couldn't help but wonder, with some fear – as they stood in the dining room of Black Manor, in the dark and unable to see anything precisely, except Bella of course – he couldn't help but wonder what, when the lights would allow him to see his brother, his eyes would fell upon.

Logically, he knew what Sirius looked like now. Like a twenty-one-years-old version of himself, without the proofs of his time in Azkaban, eyes excepted. Still the same fire, still the same rage in them, and a pain he couldn't even begin to fathom.

But for now, they were in the dark, in many ways. And the only thing he could picture about his brother, was this photograph from the Daily Prophet. Sirius Black, leaning against a dirty wall, bars between him and the photographer, skin upon bones, looking sick, his hair falling darkly on his shoulders, but his eyes still as alive as ever. Fire in them. Hatred, perhaps. Mocking, in a way. Arrogant, surely. Cold, despite the fire. Freezing, even.

Eyes which told anyone who knew the truth that someone would pay for this injustice. Eyes which betrayed the disdain in them, for all those who thought he belonged in Azkaban.

To Regulus, it semeed like someone had tried to suck everything out of his brother, making him barely more than a skeleton with skin outstretched upon it, but without actually managing to take away what really made him Sirius Black.

Regulus feared, in a way, and even if it didn't make any sense, that if he switched the lights on, that was what he'd see. Like an accusation, of how Sirius had gone to Azkaban for being right, when Regulus had gotten a family and a normal life for being wrong.

He didn't dare to switch the orbs on. And Sirius wasn't doing it himself.

But the moment of silence between the Blacks eventually was stretched too thin. It broke, like shattered glass, as both brothers finally did something. There was only so much tension a man could take. After a while, it was natural to snap.

Sirius was staring at the dark form that was supposedly his brother, standing there in the shadows. Alive, as he had known for quite some time now. Really there. Not dead. Alive. And actually present. Alive. Not just "not dead", but alive. For real. No denial allowed anymore. Alive.

But how? But why? Had Regulus really walked away from the Death Eaters, or had he simply faked his death? Was his younger brother here to see him, or for a more nefarious deed?

Was Sirius right to be happy about Regulus' continued survival?

Why was Regulus here? Why now, and not before? Why this day?

Where had he been all this time? What had he done all these years? Arcturus may have tricked the family tree as the Lord of the House of Black, but there was no way he could have tricked the mural painting downstairs too. Something had happened to his brother, Sirius knew that much for sure, but what? What could have left him as good as dead to the family magic for so many years?

An insidious, unpleasant thought made its way to his mind. For a moment, Sirius battled it. There surely were other explanations... But even so, it didn't change the fact that, indeed, this one could be the truth. That, maybe, it was the case.

After all, what told him that Regulus had changed? He had heard rumors, after his brother's supposed demise, but since this demise was obviously grandly exaggerated, there was no telling how many of the rumors had even a kernel of truth in them.

For all he knew, Regulus might have been in a state of near-death for the last seventeen years, but not out of his own desire. For all he knew, his brother could have been put on "pause" by Voldemort for some reason or another, ready to be woken up when time needs be. Dark magic had that kind of tricks in its sleeves, even if it was risky and difficult to do. Whatever may have warranted for Regulus Black to be put down for a time, it could have become irrelevant considering his own return in the game.

Sirius didn't care about the odds, at the moment. His mind had locked itself onto this one possibility, and all the other variations he could think of – or simply consider as possible – because nothing this good ever happened to him. The other possibilities, much more harmless, could try to make themselves known, but he wasn't listening.

There was that one idea in his mind, and it wouldn't back away.

Maybe Regulus Black had been sent to him, in the manor that a limited few could access, because Sirius Black wouldn't have taken the possibility into account. Maybe a brother would kill another tonight. Maybe he'd be taken away, for interrogation.

Because really, what proof did he have that Regulus had changed? None.

What clues did he have which pointed to his brother's possible continued involvement with the Deaths Eaters? Too many.

Sirius wanted to take a deep breath, switch the lights on, and be done with it. If Regulus hexed him as soon as he became a better target, he'd know. If Regulus didn't do anything suspicious...

He wouldn't know. His little brother wasn't stupid, if he could be a fool about some things. Maybe Voldepants needed yet another spy, and who could do it better than the estranged, presumed dead brother of Sirius Black? Who knew if Regulus was even there anymore, if it wasn't some twisted version of the imperius crossed with the making of an inferius?

But if Regulus really was Regulus... If there was nothing to blame his younger brother for... Sirius couldn't just start with distrust. He couldn't feed him to the Ministry, which would without doubt send Regulus right to Azkaban.

He couldn't trust, but he couldn't deprive his brother of a second chance either. Sirius had no idea what to do. For the second time in his life, he couldn't make a decision. And for the second time in his life, he had to regardless.

Sirius didn't want to deal with all this. Regulus alive again, Regulus back, Regulus guilty or innocent... He couldn't deal with it. Not now. Not ever, perhaps.

But he had to.

Feelings clouded his judgment. He knew what happened when such things started to bug his mind. It was never a good thing. It had happened twice already, with Snape and the Whomping Willow, and with Peter. He wasn't going to let it happen once again.

So, just like he had decided two decades ago, right after his first mistake, the one with Snape, Sirius snapped. The walls of occlumency in his mind became so invasive they not only cut off any intruder, but his own brain into two parts. All that was Sirius Black enclosed itself tightly in a bunker, while the operative part of his mind took complete control.

Shut down, rationality excepted.

Regulus couldn't wait any longer. He knew, after all, that it was only his imagination playing a trick on him. He rationaly knew it, even if he couldn't feel it in his guts.

And so a light orb lit up near them, and shed some light upon this awkward family reunion.

At the same moment, Sirius spoke one word. Just one.

"Regulus."

There was something not quite right in his voice, something not quite Sirius-like, though not unheard of. Had Regulus paid more attention to his brother's tone, he'd have noticed. But he too wasn't feeling quite right. It was the first time in more than a decade he saw his older brother.

And he wasn't even sure Sirius would be happy to see him.

After all, they had been on opposite sides of a war. And there was no asking which side had been wrong in that war. Regulus had married a muggle, he should know.

He certainly knew the shame.

Bella took a deep breath, and several steps back, and up, in the air. She wanted to know what would happen now, but she had a feeling it wouldn't be a good idea to get between her cousins. Most awkward family reunion ever. The dead Black, the Black who had died and tricked death, and the Black who had faked his death, no matter if it was intentionally or not.

And they lived happily ever after.

Wait, no, it couldn't be right. The House of Black didn't do happily ever after.

Besides, if Regulus hadn't noticed the problem with his brother yet, Bella wasn't deaf, and she wasn't as involved as the two of them in this awkward family reunion. She certainly had heard the odd inflection in Sirius' voice. Or, rather, the lack of inflection.

The ghost wasn't sure yet, but she had a feeling it was only the past repeating itself here. Because she had already heard this tone once, years ago, and it was probably the only time her cousin had managed to completely freak her out, without even meaning to. Considering she had been passably insane at the time, it certainly was something of an exploit.

Bella would have liked to be forgotten, right now. Just in case soulless-Sirius had a brilliant idea which involved her. Because if from what she knew of the other time, there was absolutely nothing to fear from Sirius right now, it didn't mean she knew absolutely everything about this.

And, soulless-Sirius was freaking her out alright. Don't forget that.

So, Bella took a few steps back, and fell into passive observation, hoping against hope that nothing too traumatizing would happen from now on.

You never know, after all.

Regulus was relieved to see that indeed, Sirius looked nothing like the picture which had been haunting his nightmares lately. It should have been obvious, but sometimes fears weren't logical. Seeing his older brother, actually looking younger than him, while slightly disturbing, relieved him. Perhaps it was because Regulus now had the impression the last fifteen years or so hadn't really happened. That if they had happened, not everything in it was true. The most unfair moments might not be true. The most horrible instants could only be nightmares.

He shivered at the memory of dozens of cold, dead arms reaching out, grabbing him. No matter how much he tried to forget, the freezing water of the lake pervading his mouth would remain true.

He couldn't pretend that Sirius hadn't spent twelve years in hell, partially because people like Regulus, people who were supposed to be family, had made such a reputation for the House of Black that no one had even wondered if Sirius was, perhaps, innocent. It wouldn't be fair.

Sirius wasn't saying anything.

It suddenly appeared, clear to Regulus' mind.

He hadn't noticed, at first, but now he could tell. There was something wrong with his brother. There was no glint in his eyes. There was no expression on his face. There was nothing sirius in Sirius. Just a hard, blank facade.

A bit like an imperiused man, but without the misty looks in the eyes.

Because here, there was absolutely nothing.

The Lord of the House of Black looked down at his brother's arm, having determined there had been enough silence, enough time lost to Regulus' emotions. No matter if Regulus Black was here as a spy for the Dark Lord, or if it was as a genuine visitor, if the lord wanted to be both fair and safe, there were a few things which needed to be done.

"Show me your arm."

No tone at all. An order, but barely. It sounded more like a statement. An absolute certainty that Regulus would do what his brother ordered.

Not that Regulus had other intentions. But it didn't make him feel good. It made him feel odd. Frightened. Cold, too.

He had no need to guess which arm his brother wanted to see, though. A little hesitancy, perhaps, but no guessing work. After a second, he rolled up his left sleeve.

Lord Black barely gazed at the Dark Mark. Regulus, on the other hand, could feel it all too well. As he had ignored Voldemort's calls to all his followers for some time now, the skin under the mark was reddened and painful. That his brother was currently making so little of the branding...

And, he wasn't saying anything about the scars marring his arm. Nothing about the red, angry scar which crossed his left cheek either. Nothing even about the fact that, basically, his little brother was alive despite the appearances.

He should have known at first look. When it had happened at Hogwarts, Regulus had been doing his best to stay away from his blood traitor of a brother, but that dead look... He should have recognized it right away.

Sirius had completely locked out his own emotions. Very few master occlumens could do it, and none were insane enough to actually try. None, unless they were Sirius Black.

"If you want to live, you will need to get rid of the mark. Luckily for you, your involvement with the Death Eaters was only rumored, and never proved. If you appear now, without a Dark Mark, the Ministry won't be able to do a thing. And if we play the memory loss card, Voldemort is likely to blame its disappearance on me, not on you. I could have brainwashed you as soon as I found you, after all."

The Black lord turned back to the doors of the dining room. Regulus, unsure of what this... deadish version of his brother had in mind, still followed. He didn't know of any way to take off the Mark, especially not a way that wouldn't alert Voldemort. If Sirius hadn't gotten rid of everything that made him human – such as hope – right now, he'd have thought him delusional. But this Sirius Black only worked with knowledge, foregoing any kind of assumptions.

If his brother said it, then it meant there was a way to get rid of the Dark Mark.

Regulus would have been ecstatic, if Sirius hadn't turned himself into an unfeeling machine in the process.

He looked for Bellatrix, but the ghost had vanished. He didn't blame her. Only standing next to Sirius right now felt immensely wrong, as if his brother wasn't meant to be or something like that. He just felt wrong.

The two brothers soon reached the secret entrance to the hidden basement.

Regulus wasn't saying anything as they passed the first four doors of the place. The storage room, where every illegal possession ended up at some point, the laboratory, where the Blacks studied the darker sides of magic, the danger room, where the family members went when they couldn't control themselves anymore, the monitoring room, where the lord called the family and controlled the wards. The youngest of the Black brothers had only ever walked into two of these rooms, and he certainly hadn't gone into the last chamber of the hidden basement. Only the Black lords had access to the Black Core room, and only them could allow another family member in.

Now was his time, it seemed.

It wasn't exactly reassuring.

If robot-Sirius had decided it would be better to get rid of his possibly-a-threat / returning-from-the-dead / not-quite-sure-if-sincere little brother, there was no better place than the room of the Black Core. After all, no one ever went in there... And there was enough magic around to take care of the remains without even needing to do a thing.

Not that his big brother had a reason to get rid of him like that.

Right?

When the last door in the corridor opened before Sirius, Regulus felt a strong shockwave of dark magic – of Black magic – get out. He suddenly had the urge to get back upstairs, to get back in time, to this morning, and just forget about going to see Sirius to reveal his continued existence. Not that Sirius, and possibly a number of former... ah, colleagues, too, wouldn't have tracked his cowardly arse as soon as the news about Alshain would have gotten out, but still.

But Regulus only followed his brother inside the dark room, without a word. Sirius was freaking him out right now, his internal organs were playing hide-and-seek without his permission, and the heart of Black Manor reeked so much of dark and powerful magic that even as a Black he was feeling sick, but Regulus only followed his brother. Somehow he felt compelled to.

Sirius had said to follow, so he was following. Because there was no alternative.

Regulus was standing behind his brother, who didn't seem affected by the atmosphere at all. He wondered if it was because Sirius had turned everything off except his rationality, or if it was because of who his brother was. The Blackest Black in generations, perhaps, and on every point.

He'd never get an answer to that question, he knew it.

Even if Sirius decided to become a human being again, he would never talk about that. Never.

Regulus finally looked past the shadow of his brother's form. He couldn't ignore the faint light in the center of the room, just before his older brother, just on the other side, anymore. After all, it was the very reason why Sirius had taken him here. This dark silver light was the Core.

Regulus took a step to the left, so that his older brother wouldn't be hiding the Core anymore.

It looked a bit like a human-shaped light, about ten feet high, head turned to the ceiling, feet hovering a few inches above the floor, hands joined together in a blurred heap of dim light, powerful, but at the same time, dark. The very heart of the House of Black. Power, light and darkness, all at the same time.

Regulus only knew what everyone in the family knew. That was, not much. The Core was what allowed Black Manor not to rely on external sources for its wards, the Core was the energy which allowed most of the manor's magic to remain without inputs from the family members, the Core was semi-conscious, a sort of memory of all the Blacks to have ever lived. The Core had appeared after the first Black's death, millenia ago, and it had only grown steadier with every generation.

No other family had ever talked of such magic.

The Black Core was a mystery more than anything else.

It was also one of the most powerful sources of magic in the world. If the energy from the Core didn't suffice to remove the Dark Mark, nothing would.

The inhuman figure looked down, right at Sirius. The oldest of the brothers looked at it for a moment. His face was neutral.

Then he spoke.

"One of your children has been branded, Halóno, as a slave by their master. And I need your power to undo his work."

Regulus was more than surprised when the light figure responded with a voice made of a thousands voices. It seemed as if all the lives of the House of Black had been reunited in that strange being, barely dominated by another voice, stronger, older, different. The whole underground room resonated to the point he could barely understand the answer.

"We will lend you the power of the Blacks to undo the slavery of our kind, Sirius Orion Black, but I hope for you that you can handle to have access to such power."

The oldest brother's face remained expressionless, but he raised his hand and showed the ring of Lordship, as if in answer.

"I am the Black lord, Ancestor. I bear the ring. Our family power is mine to use, as long as you allow it. I will not break under the pressure, that I can assure you of."

For a moment, Regulus thought the shadowy light was actually smirking, but of course he was wrong. How could a shadowy light that wasn't even really conscious of itself smirk, and even if it could, how could it be seen when it was only made of dark silver light?

"The ring will allow you control, that much is true. And you are more than the usual Lord Black, twinless twin of the Blacks, aren't you? But try not to destroy your brother in the process, Sirius Black."

"It is not my intention."

Regulus certainly hoped so. He didn't want to be annihilated by the overwhelming power of the Black Core because of mishandling. He had made peace with himself, had agreed that he deserved whatever would happen to him, after what he had done during the first wizarding war. But he drew the line of karma at being killed by error.

The mysterious figure of the Core unjoined its hands, and held one for Sirius to take. The Lord of the House of Black seized it without hesitation, then turned to look at his younger brother.

Regulus almost took a step back as he saw his brother's eyes glow a powerful silver, as if lit from the inside by the power the Core was landing him. But Sirius reached for his left arm, and Regulus let him grab it, just where the Dark Mark laid.

The Core was back to looking at the ceiling. It didn't seem to be quite there anymore...

"Close your eyes."

Regulus could only obey his brother's voice. Only it wasn't solely his brother's. It sounded to him as if the Black Core had hosted itself into Sirius, speaking hundreds of voices at the same time, with Sirius' a bit more present, just as the first Black's voice had been slightly predominant before.

Just when he'd thought it couldn't get more disturbing.

The Lord of the House of Black started his work, using the power of the Core. Regulus would never be able to tell how much time it took, how many moments went by before he finally felt the Dark Mark dissipate. For what seemed like hours, Lord Black pulled at various strings of magic between the brand and Regulus' soul. The power of the Black Core acted as a blade, eventually cutting these strings with a single move, or as a shield, negating the devoring pain that tried to invade the host every time the link was prodded.

It hurt a lot. But somehow Regulus couldn't really feel it. His mind had gone into a place of infinite numbness. He felt, but it didn't register.

Once he wondered if it was painful or tiresome for his brother too, to do this. He wasn't even surprised when the thought died away, as if strangled clean before he could even hypothesize the beginning of an answer.

It hurt, but he felt as if he was no more than a baby being cradled by his mother, while her voice sang a sweet melody. Regulus never wondered if that had actually happened at some point of his life. He would have guessed that it had, because Walburga Black wasn't heartless, despite everything, but he did not wonder at the time. Wondering about it might have hurt, and everything that hurt was dimmed.

The idea that perhaps it was Sirius' subconscious trying to protect him through a difficult time, making room in his spells for comfort, was soothing.

Then it ended.

Regulus blinked as his knees fell under him. He just fell.

Sirius had let go of his arm. The older Black was standing, eyes unfocused, but standing, unlike himself. The Core was the one to let go of Sirius, not the contrary, Regulus noticed. On the blurry face of silver light, there was something which looked a bit like a sad smile.

Then again, it was possible that Regulus was imagining things, again.

After all, how could a semi-conscious figure of the past generations of the Black family smile?

Sirius' eyes focused. Regulus' older brother sighed. Or was he preventing himself from throwing up? Hard to tell. All color had disappeared from his face, that much was certain, and the...

Was that blood running down his nose?

Regulus managed to get back on his feet. The world wobbled a bit, sure, but he was standing again. He reached for Sirius, just as the young lord put a hand under his nose and pitched his nostrils together, as if to stop the bleeding. But before the younger brother could say a word, his left sleeve was rolled up, and Sirius looked all-business again.

"Good, it's gone."

Regulus looked dumbly at his forearm, wondering what it was about again. For a moment he couldn't find an answer, especially as it was obvious that all his scars were still there, crisscrossing his left forearm just as it did on the right one.

He looked back at his brother, about to ask what he was talking about.

Then it all dawned on him, and he wondered how he had managed to forget, even if for one minute.

His eyes searched his forearm again.

The scars from the inferi were there. But that was all. The Dark Mark had disappeared completely. Nothing left to remind him of its long presence, except in his own memories. He wasn't hurting, the skin wasn't red, there was no shadow image of the brand.

He'd have expected it to leave something of a reminder behind, but no.

"How did you..."

Sirius opened his mouth to answer, and Regulus immediately knew he did not want the technical explanation just yet. Maybe never. Especially not now that Sirius was running on nothing but rationality. There were some things no one wanted to hear about the link between their own soul and a dark brand, and this Sirius wouldn't stop at consideration.

"Nevermind. What do we do now?"

The Black lord seemed to consider it for a moment, before answering with a question of his own.

"It depends. Where were you all these years? And what are the scars from?"

"I got dragged down a lake by a bunch of inferi in 1979, but I somehow ended up stranded a few miles away on a beach, without a single memory. I married a muggle woman, Amanda, and became a father. I remembered everything when you updated the family rings, though. My son, Alshain, went to Hogwarts today, and here I am."

Said like that, it all seemed very simple. Which it wasn't, of course.

Lord Black looked at his brother for another short time, completely expressionless, as he processed the news and came up with a believable official story.

"My guess, the bottom of the lake was out of the anti-apparition wards. Now, we're going to St. Mungo's, to get your inferi-induced wounds treated, since it has never been done. You have no idea of who you are, almost no memories of your life before your loss of memory. Flashes, mostly. I found you while investigating something strange on the family tree. And obviously, you've never had a Dark Mark branded on your arm. From what your older brother told you, you simply ended up a side-casualty during the first war. Now, roll up your sleeves, we're going."

And with these words, Lord Black dragged Regulus Black back to the ground floor, before heading for St. Mungo's. Regulus Black himself was back in the wizarding world, but he felt as if his older brother wasn't here anymore, when he looked at the expressionless eyes of the man.