Disclaimer: I do not own the HP universe, that's J.K. Rowling's domain.

AN: Happy Apocalypse everyone! :DDD Survivors roll call in the comments! Who's still here! (Echo echo echo..)

So yeah, sorry it's been for-flipping-ever! But, for all the people in the back, this story is NOT abandoned! (I will also eventually go on a clean up/revision adventure where I improve the grammar, etc. as needed for every single chap of this fic. But I didn't feel like delaying this update to do that! Soooo…)

WARNING*READER BEWARE* Semi-graphic injuries and dark themes WILL be in this chap. Don't like? Don't read. Because you have free will. :D

Hey look, Salem got to appear in this chap! XDD (I know, readers, I missed him, too. Didn't want to pull a Bilbo—where he's sidelined out of his own movie in favor of dwarves XDDD.)

Chapter 18: Immolation and Liberation and All the Chaos That Lies Within

Remus released a slow, shuddering breath. Being back in Snape's pensieve was the last place he wanted to be…but Sirius wouldn't let James and Mr. Potter enter it without him. And Remus knew he'd feel guilty if he left managing Sirius to the two of them. Their friend was still dangerously…off…

The loud hysterics following their foray hours earlier had alerted the Potters to something amiss in the boys' room. Remus and James had readily explained what they'd witnessed, which in turn required relaying how James acquired said pensieve…which he confessed to easily enough because this was so far beyond that…

A grounding was fine. This had to be reported. Immediately.

Sirius had openly begged for Mr. Potter's help on behalf of his brother.

"She'll kill him. She'll kill him. She'll kill him to spite me. You can't let her! Help us! I'll do anything!"

Though Fleamont Potter had been visibly reluctant to enter the ill-gotten pensieve, he took the matter seriously. He dressed, gathered his Auror supplies, and asked James if he was sturdy enough to help direct the pensieve back to the memory in question because it was a horrible violation of privacy to enter a pensieve without the owner's leave and he didn't want to trespass more than he had to.

But if a crime had indeed occurred and those victimized by it were unable to voice it…

Sirius rejected Mrs. Potter's soft pleas—imploring him to stay behind with her and not subject himself to viewing it all again.

But he'd refused and now the lot of them were wading through it again.

Remus knew his friend needed support. Considering Remus's own affliction….and all the times he'd relied on his mates because of it…he was honor bound to pay it back.

Only…

Only the second time was so much worse because they already knew what was coming and Sirius started choking on his grief long before Bella started landing blows.

Mr. Potter was composed in a way none of the boys were.

He took notes with his quill in shorthand, took care to note the times indicated by the clocks in the rooms.

He repeated more than once that he was disappointed that they'd steal and breach someone's privacy.

He tutted that they could face indictments that would jeopardize their internships at the Auror Department, but relented that they could argue it was prompted by just cause.

He didn't say anything at all during the peak of the brutality. He didn't look away either like Remus did both times.

Remus and James patted Sirius's back as the scene ended while the latter coughed and spluttered.

"She could've killed him."

"Yes," Mr. Potter agreed quietly. "I think our accounts will more than suffice for an injunction against her."

"She could've…and I would have never seen him again." His voice broke.

Mr. Potter gave him a sympathetic look.

"I may need to view it one more time. To complete my report. James, Remus, escort Sirius out."

"NO! S'my brother!"

"God, this is all such a train wreck," James muttered as he tried to get ahold of a rebellious Sirius.

The pensieve responded to his comment.

"An absolute train wreck," a voice gushed with mean-spirited glee.

There were twitters of "My God. Did you see?"

"I heard he still had to perform at the Malfoy's ball-"

"Couldn't play a note on key, but there was applause like he'd composed a masterful concert-"

Snape threw a powerful glare their way and the students shrunk back and quieted…at least until a horrible scraping and screeching garnered their attention.

"There he is!" They gasped.

'He' was Regulus and his cloak was askew. His vest was misbuttoned. Only half of his wrinkled shirt was tucked and its cuffs were unfolded. His hair was messy and his tie hung loose around his neck. He was dragging his trunk with one hand and his owl's cage—the bird inside flapping and squawking as he moved toward the train with detached determination.

Flint gave a short whistle and members of the Slytherin Quidditch Team moved forward to conceal their seeker from view.

"C'mon, Black, pull yourself together. I know you're…we all know you're…Jesus, anybody got a comb?"

Mr. Potter frowned and re-evaluated Snape in the morning wintry light at the train station, his eyes narrowed in recognition. "He's the same boy as…this is the boy you're always starting trouble with at school."

"He comes after us, too. He tried to get Moony in trouble," James stated. "He…he knew what he was."

Mr. Potter gave Remus a reassuring look. "I'm sorry to hear that. But you boys really do need to learn how to deal with people who will never be on good terms with y-"

"Up to his eyeballs in Dark Arts-"

"James, that doesn't justify-"

As if eavesdropping, the scene rippled into Snape standing on a Hogwarts balcony as January snow lightly touched down. He was staring at the full moon and then over to the Whomping Willow whose branches were only lightly dusted with icicles (as it often twisted its limbs to be free of them).

"Press the knot," Severus murmured.

Sirius gasped and stiffened.

Remus realized with a sickening lurch that this was the night Snape finally took Sirius's hint and broke into the Shrieking Shack and nearly…ruined everything. It still gave him shivers. If it had all gone wrong…

"Don't go," a voice pleaded from the shadows behind the fifth year.

Snape sighed.

"Regulus. Go back to the dungeons."

"…"

Snape didn't turn around. He leaned on his elbows against the stone railing. "It's nearly curfew and I thought you weren't feeling well. You were having another one of your 'bad days.' Now, if you don't want to go to class, that's one thing. But if you lie and say you're ill but go traipsing about the halls after hours, the professors are never going to believe you again when you say you have the sniffles."

"Don't go," Regulus repeated, his footfall crunched lightly on the snow. "Don't go, don't go to the tree-"

Snape stiffened. "H-how did you learn—?"

"Please don't go, don't go, don't go. If only because Siri wants you too-"

That made Sirius flinch. Remus knew he still carried guilt over the incident. The outrage he and James had expressed over the stunt…

Remus could've hurt Snape…could've been expelled as a result…or exiled from the wizarding world…

Could've lost everything…

Proven himself a monster…

Snape gritted his teeth.

"Enough! You-" he trailed off as he turned.

Regulus was in a long nightshirt and barefoot… but that wasn't the real cause for concern.

It was that his nose and mouth were bleeding and the mess of it was all down his chin and the front of his nightwear.

Remus felt his stomach flop. He'd come back to school…despite his injuries…

He'd only been healed up superficially…

"Get a teacher…" Sirius breathed raggedly. "Get him a teacher, you arsehole. Call for help. Help him!"

Mr. Potter shook his head and massaged the bridge of his nose.

"You…alright?" Snape asked blankly.

"I…I don't feel so good," the third year confessed. His jaw clicked and moved like it was deciding whether it wanted to stay attached.

He reached up with a wand that was sticky with blood and muttered, "Episkey." It slid back into place…only for the other side to pop and begin drooping.

Blood streamed down and splattered his feet. Flecks caught in the snow.

Mr. Potter groaned. "Oh Regulus, you do not try to self-heal after an injury as traumatic as that. And not with episkey. That's a garden variety healing spell. Brackium emendo at least."

"He was thirteen!" Sirius snapped. "How was he gonna know that?!"

"Sirius, calm down." James laid a steady hand on his friend's shoulder. "We...we know he survives this..."

"How was he s'posed to…Reggie, why didn't you have Mum take you to hospital?!"

Remus had a sinking suspicion from what Sirius had told him about his visit with her…that she hadn't been able to make such a trip…not even for her own sake.

Mr. Potter sighed. "Head injuries are messy business. Can interfere with concentration, coordination, and pronunciation. He's lucky his casting was just impaired and that none of his spells backfired."

"So, this is a 'bad day,' huh?" Snape deduced.

"…Sometimes…I just…don't wanna stay together." Regulus coughed and spat a dark mouthful out. "I'm doing the magic right…but..."

Mr. Potter shook his head gravely. "We'll get him checked over. This is right after that winter break…Good Lord…he went several weeks without proper-"

Snape fidgeted. "R-right. M-maybe you ought to…see Pomfrey."

Regulus gave a quiet, almost noncommittal, "Yeah."

Snape swallowed and put more conviction in his voice. "I…I really think you ought to go to the hospital wing."

"…"

"Reg-"

"…I don't…I don't remem—rem…know how to-how to…get there."

"C'mon, c'mon," Snape ordered briskly—taking a sticky hand in his shaking one. He half-led, half-carried him to the fourth floor as Regulus asked repeatedly, "But what will I say, when I can't say…? When she…asks…"

They were nearly there before Snape abruptly pushed Regulus back around a corner so forceful and sudden—the younger boy fell soundlessly onto the carpeted hall in a stupor.

Sirius audibly gasped. Remus winced. The Third Year had been in no shape to be handled that roughly.

Fifth years James, Sirius, and Peter were laughing over Quintin Johnson's fumbling of the quaffle at their Quidditch practice earlier and Regulus stirred at the sound.

Instinctively, he reached a hand out. "S-s-s-S-"

"Shh!" Severus clamped his hand over the boy's mouth and shook his head hard enough that locks of greasy hair flung about.

"Sir-si-s-"

"Shut it, you idiot," Severus breathed. "They're Gryffindors. And the worst of the lot. They won't help you. Hell, he's the reason you're like this."

Regulus blinked up at him, uncomprehending.

"He's a Blood Traitor."

He continued staring.

Blood was oozing from between Snape's fingers and the dam of his patience broke.

"Are you stupid? Do you need a wall to fall-? Do you need the entirety of Diagon Alley to fall on your stupid, stupid head to get through that thick skull of yours?" he hissed. "He doesn't care about you. Never did. Never."

Regulus's breath hitched and he trembled.

"And you've made a Goddamn fool of yourself for long enough, don't you think? Or do you like everyone laughing at you and how stupid you are?"

Big silver eyes welled up.

"He's a filthy Blood Traitor and you know it."

Regulus lowered his outstretched hand.

When the hall was clear, Snape helped him up to his feet.

"…I…I won't know what to say…" Regulus's breathing was uneven.

"You were hit in the face with a bludger."

Regulus looked at him blankly.

Snape nudged him towards the hospital wing's entrance. "You tell her, you were hit in the face with a bludger."

"You…"

"You were hit in the face…" Snape prompted.

"With a bludger…Sev…don't go."

"Go and tell her."

Regulus shuffled into the hospital wing.

Snape waited until the door closed behind the younger Slytherin, then he turned and stormed down a stone corridor. He stopped and glowered at a nearby window and the full moon beyond it.

His eyes blazed with purpose. Breathing heavily, he vowed, "I'm gonna get them expelled, Reg. I am. We'll both be better off for it."

Salem had arrived early at Black Manor, only to find a furious James Potter waiting in the foyer beside a calm, collected Professor McGonagall who was thumbing through an aged tome of medieval transfiguration techniques.

The two boys greeted each other rather tersely.

What in the world was James doing here? Would his younger self have asked for his support over a silly exam? Sirius was an excellent test taker.

And what had made him so angry?

"You're good friends with Regulus, then? Outside of school as well, Mr. Rosting?" McGonagall inquired.

"Yeah, er, yes, Professor."

"Good. He could use more friends in his own year."

The house elf poured Salem a cup of tea, as it had for the other guests, and had barely left them all to each other's awkward company, when the double doors of Black Manor's Great Hall flew open.

"I'm finished!" Regulus crowed—voice unnecessarily loud and ringing in the cavernous space. "Salem! I thought I recognized-"

"In under three hours?" James asked in bewilderment.

"I failed." Regulus shrugged. "Likely. But it is done."

"For your sake, I hope that isn't so," McGonagall remarked dryly.

"But if I repeat, you'll get an encore of my unusual materials project. Won't that be grand?" Regulus gave her a charming grin.

McGonagall smiled in spite of herself. "You must be feeling better. There's that misplaced optimism I remember from your first and second years. I guarantee you, it will be a detention. Possibly two, since we've now held this conversation twice."

Regulus laughed.

James shifted his weight, possibly unused to his Head of House getting along so swimmingly with a Slytherin. "Right. Sorry, I've…got to take Regulus to the Ministry. Sirius is there."

There? And not here doing his exam?

McGonagall's expression turned solemn.

Clearly, whatever task James was performing he'd shared it with her.

"What? No. Salem is meeting me for lunch," Regulus argued. "We've got to toast my Straight-T exam results."

McGonagall coughed to hide a small snort.

"Today, I go down in historical infamy for the House of Black and Hogwarts. Don't worry, Salem. When asked, I'll spin it as some show of protest."

"I'll always admire that reckless confidence," McGonagall admitted. She shared a glance with James. "He can talk his way through almost anything."

James looked uncomfortable and abruptly changed the topic. "Right. Right. Um, sorry, Regulus. You can't have anything to eat before the procedure. Sorry."

Regulus gave James a funny look—noticing what Salem had picked up almost immediately: James was apologizing repeatedly to him.

"C'mon."

James set his hands on Regulus's shoulders and began guiding him out of the building.

"Hey…Professor! Help a student out?" Regulus demanded.

"If you have failed, I'll argue for a summer remedial course with the proctor." She moved to enter the manor's hall.

"I mean for this."

Before he knew it, Salem was being ushered along with Regulus back toward the entry gates of Black Manor.

It was difficult being so close to his best mate and unable to confide anything.

"Why am I dragging a spare?" James complained as he pushed both boys along.

"So I have a witness when you murder me."

James raised a tired eyebrow. "And what would keep me from killing him, too, in this supposed violent episode?"

"Obviously, it'd be harder to explain away two dead bodies. It's easy to discard me as some dark wizard and blah blah blah my family and its ways and you had to do it for the greater good. But what reason could you give for Salem? Hm? Because he was a Slytherin and that was enough?"

"Where are you taking him to?" Salem asked.

"To the Ministry of Magic. Hex removal."

Regulus went terribly still.

Salem looked at him in concern. What had happened? What had he witnessed that would've warranted that from someone?

"Your grandfather gave us this. For you." James offered the younger boy a letter. from an inner pocket of his robes.

Regulus accepted it with shaking fingers and cracked the seal.

The younger boy's mouth tightened as he read it, like he really wanted to argue or yell or…

He caught Salem's eye.

"I'll owl you…later," he promised. "After this." He gave a mirthless laugh. "Hell, I may even be able to tell you about-"

His teeth clicked in a way that didn't go unnoticed by either James or Salem.

Silencing hex.

James went pale.

Salem's hands clenched.

He'd seen that a lot in his career as an Auror, at the height of Voldemort's psychotic campaign across the wizarding world.

And Salem felt a cold, sick fury at it. Because he was awfully young to have one on him already. Was that why he talked around in circles so much? He couldn't do otherwise?

When one was barred from telling the truth, were lies all that were left?

He wasn't even a Death Eater…yet…

It made all of his interactions with his brother take on uglier connotations if there were things Reggie could NOT tell him, ever.

All of Regulus's good cheer had left him, but he forced a "what can you do?" sort of smile…that slid right off as he faced James again.

He was afraid.

It was painfully obvious he was afraid, but he held himself with dignity.

He swallowed and tried to keep his tone even and somewhat haughty. "Well? Let's get this over with. My time is valuable, Potter."

And for the first time that he'd seen, James didn't seem annoyed at the snobbery.

Didn't react much at all. Might've looked a little sorry.

He knew more about the situation.

But this wasn't his timeline's James so he couldn't demand any answers.

He just stared at Regulus with a heaviness in his eyes.

The fourteen-year-old held his head a little higher and continued looking James in the eyes.

"Now, I don't want you getting splinched," James stated quietly. "So please don't resist the pull as we're teleporting. I promise. No tricks. I want you to get there safely."

"Right. Goodbye, Salem." Regulus gave a farewell bow with a slight flourish that their parents would have approved of. He forced more confidence into his voice as he turned away. "Good God man, I'm not headed to Azkaban. And even if I were, it would be a family reunion. My father's there, you know?"

It was in the extra beat that James watched Regulus—brows furrowed.

The way both corners of his mouth pulled down.

That Salem knew intuitively that the hex had something to do with Reggie, personally. It wasn't that he'd simply seem something unsavory.

Something very bad had happened to him.

And Regulus knew that James knew and that hurt him.

Though, he didn't let it shame him. He didn't want his friend, Salem, to worry. He didn't want James pushed to offer him the reluctant sympathy of a rival and enemy.

He simply shouldered it all.

And there was something haunting in that, which connected the moment to…

"Goodbye Brother…"

"You're no brother of mine."

Yes, I think you'll be fine...

He continued smiling and gave a nod.

Because you never knew me at all…

It set gooseflesh all over him.

They disapparated with a resounding CRACK!

Which left Salem with nothing to do but summon the Knight Bus and ride it back to the Leaky Cauldron.

He'd made big changes to this timeline, hadn't he?

That was what he'd wanted, right?

For the two brothers' paths to cross once more? To fix things?

But there was something in the expression on his best mate's face as he interacted with Regulus…

That even when something bad had happened to the younger boy, his sympathy was still cold, reserved.

That warned Salem that he hadn't thought it all through.

It was entirely too optimistic to assume Regulus and James would become allies, let alone friends, overnight.

How would James really react to the brothers being reconciled?

Had he put his younger self into an unwinnable crossfire? Where both of his brothers depended on him, but despised each other?

Sirius's knee was bouncing nervously as he waited in Mr. Potter's office in the Auror Department. His eyes hurt and his nose kept running intermittently.

Supposedly, Regulus had chosen to complete his exams before coming in.

James had gone to fetch him and owled them that.

Had to go because Sirius hadn't passed his Apparating test yet.

Because Mr. and Mrs. Potter wanted Sirius to rest before he interacted with his brother. That it would be better if Reggie went straight into the procedure and Sirius could see him afterward.

Because he was such a mess…and they didn't want him making his little brother nervous on top of everything else.

No one said that.

But that was the truth.

That was an hour ago. That was a whole hour ago. And they wouldn't let Sirius keep him company during the process.

No matter how hard he begged.

The Aurors came by periodically to explain the situation, to assure him that they'd already contacted Pollux and gotten his approval for the curse-breaking procedure. That they wanted a healer to give Reggie a more thorough look over.

That his little brother was going to feel so much better afterwards…

And then Sirius could finally, finally, finally see him and take him home.

And if anyone from his family dared to try and stop him…

"I've never felt so much hate in my life," he admitted hoarsely while his fingers twitched anxiously.

"Sirius." Mrs. Potter was sitting next to him on a small, worn out lounge sofa. She wrapped an arm loosely around him and he leaned into the embrace.

"I feel like it's going to-to t-tear me apart." His voice cracked.

Her hand gave his arm a squeeze. "It's going to be alright. You filed the paperwork for a restraining order. He'll be safer now until we can arrange a court date with the Wizengamot to charge her."

"She's a beast. A-a monster…I could kill h-"

"Don't say that," Mrs. Potter admonished him quietly.

He wiped his eyes roughly. "I could. And Snape…that evil arsehole…he WAS sabotaging us. Me and Reggie. He was. Got me outta the way. And then he couldn't…even be bothered to help him. Told him-lied to him-"

"Siri-"

"No, you don't understand what he said. He said, he said I didn't-he said I didn't care and Reggie believed him. He believed him. You could see it. I could see it at that moment. Changed everything. He hadn't believed it yet 'til then."

"Oh love, Sirius, I-"

"Calls himself his friend, and he's bleeding and bleeding and he doesn't even stay with-Awful. I wouldn't leave a stranger like that, let alone my best mate-"

She gave him an affectionate squeeze. "I know. I know."

"And how could my uncles…my aunts…my cou-" He gagged on the word "cousins." "How could they allow that to happen?! Uncle Alphard is supposed to be better than that! How could he be there and allow it?! How could he not stop it, or stay and care for them? Or check on them!?"

"I don't know, dear."

"I want to see Reggie. I need to see him. Can't I see him, yet? Please?"

"After, love."

"Why can't I be in the room for the procedure?" He demanded for the umpteenth time.

"You'll want the Curse Breakers to be able to concentrate."

"This is such a bad idea," Remus muttered.

James backed him up. "He has another hour to rest, Pads. Then, he can have visitors."

It had been a mistake to take Sirius for a walk near the room Regulus was being kept in as he recovered. They'd thought a stroll over could relieve some of that tension.

It would also figure that Regulus, who shouldn't have been conscious yet, was softly calling for aid.

"…He…lp…"

It was quiet and slurred and confused and sad.

"Help…"

It was in a weak enough tone that it reminded Remus, almost painfully, that Regulus was younger than them.

He was small for his age. His voice hadn't lowered yet…

It was clear he was a late bloomer…except he was usually so sharp and precocious…his age could often be ignored in squabbles.

Except he thought back to the brutality he'd witnessed. Regulus was entirely too young for that. And a year and a half (which used to feel so long) felt like nothing.

It made the realization that the boy wasn't that much older or stronger than he'd been in that memory...that much more unsettling.

Those monsters could have killed him very easily. Still could. And if they could do that in Grimmauld Place. They could do it anywhere. No wonder Sirius was so terrified.

"…Help…me…"

Sirius near-blasted the door down to get in.

"Sirius!?" James choked in shock. "You can't just—if you cause damage they could revoke your internship this summer-"

"Like I care about that right now?!" Sirius hissed.

James's jaw went slack. "Sirius!?"

"S-ss-s-?"

Their friend instinctively recognized the stuttered consonant.

"S-si-si?"

"Yes! Yes, it's Siri. Right on."

They were singles—all "only" children: him, James, and Peter.

But Sirius…Sirius would remember Regulus learning…and struggling with his older brother's name. Had learned to answer to all approximations of it...

"S-s-sir-i…?"

"Yes, you're right." Sirius hurried over. "Big Brother is here."

Regulus's eyes were unfocused and there were a multitude of belts strapping him down to a slab engraved with spells.

"B-big Bro…ther?"

Something fragile and delighted brightened Sirius's face in a way they'd never really witnessed before.

He nodded. "I'm here. I'm here, Little Brother." He rubbed a consoling hand across his brother's upper arm and shoulder.

"S-s-siri…?"

"Reggie, I won't ever let her hurt you again. I swear. I swear it. On magic. On blood. Whatever you want. Whatever you want me to swear it on, I w-"

"S-siri?"

"Mmhmm?"

"Where…did you go?" Regulus looked around the room rather vacantly—not recognizing James or Remus.

Sirius swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. I couldn't be in here. I asked, I promise. I did ask. You can talk to anyone on this floor. I tried. I wanted to. But I'm here now."

Regulus turned his head to focus on him again and mumbled in confused disappointment, "You're not…you're not Siri…"

Remus's heart sank. They should not have been in here.

"Wot?"

It was too soon. He was all mixed up in the worst way.

"You're not Siri," Regulus repeated more firmly.

"You…you're confused. Yes, I am. It's me."

"You're wrong. You're wrong…"

There was a harsh wind that would've rattled or smashed objects, but no loose items were in this room and what sparse furniture was there was bolted down.

"He's gone. He went…to Hogwarts…and he never came back. Never came…back. Never!"

Sirius gave a soft, unhappy laugh. "No." He gently carded his fingers through his brother's hair—straightening it. "No, you're confused. It's the…the medicine. I came back. I'm right here."

"Died."

"Wot?! Nonono, I'm right here. See?"

The fourteen-year-old suddenly glared and hissed, "You killed him. You killed him and you came back instead."

Peter held in a sigh. He did that a lot; holding things in. It was practically a requirement for being a marauder. Having too different of an opinion or thought could be seen as a challenge. And he wouldn't stand a chance against his friends. It was better to go along with things. Smarter. Sensible.

He knew he wasn't a remarkable sort of person. He wasn't clever and charismatic like James. He'd never be smooth and impressive like Sirius. Or special…even if it was via an affliction; he and his relations weren't important or controversial enough to be targeted by extremists, like Remus.

What set him apart was that he could take criticism and instruction and he got a lot of that. Had to take it to keep up with the lot of them. And even tagging along wasn't enough.

One had to make shows of power, of individuality. But doing so (in his case) required an uneven matchup. It wasn't that he particularly enjoyed picking on younger students, it was that he understood his odds. The likelihood of an underclassman being knowledgeable in spells and comfortable in duels was low.

Anyone higher or worth challenging…he'd need backup to deal with. And it could be exhausting—constantly depending on them for answers, for support, for protection…for acknowledgement. Maybe that was why he always jumped to perform menial tasks—things he could do.

Like this.

Remus had owled him and asked that he meet up with the lot of them at the Ministry. Which he did. He could show up. Showing up was easy.

Sirius. Rebellious Sirius who always dared and pushed and challenged. Who always seemed so strong and composed was…utterly undone…it was so interesting. To see someone who was always so strong…so unflappable…unsure and vulnerable.

It made a part of him feel infinitely lighter. Almost amused. That Sirius Orion Black, who had so much going for him (despite an admittedly dysfunctional family) could finally trip up, get snagged, and unravel. But he was careful to keep that in.

So he stayed quiet. Weighed his options. Waited.

Let his friends get him up to speed.

So, Sirius running away resulted in Grimmauld Place being "cleansed" and his family paying the price for his rebelliousness. That wasn't really that surprising.

And the victims of cleansings being magically silenced seemed like a matter of prudence. Again, unpleasant but not that surprising.

That Regulus in turn did everything he could to downplay the event, distance himself from his "blood traitor" brother, and overcome his situation via strategic omission was almost admirable.

Peter definitely understood it at least—the desire to cover weakness and overcome the embarrassment he had to feel from it all. It made sense: he countered the humiliation with dignity—embraced Pureblood fanaticism to protect himself and his mother from being targeted again.

In fact, it was almost a shame seeing such a strategist reduced to the whinging crybaby that Peter remembered.

But…

A veteran Auror, who didn't introduce himself, shook his head at the drama unfolding between the room and hallway. He'd rushed over when Regulus, who couldn't find any objects to hurl or break with charm work, started lighting things on fire.

That Regulus didn't need his wand to be a nuisance was impressive.

"We usually give them time to compose themselves after the procedure. They often relive the situation the curses were meant to block."

Trust Sirius to disregard the advice of professional Healers and Aurors to do what he wanted. Apparently, he'd interrupted the cool down period and started talking to Regulus prematurely…and set him off.

Regulus had managed to magically unbuckle half of the straps keeping him down and when he couldn't manage the rest… in an effort to free himself…set himself on fire.

Sirius had panicked until two Curse Breakers, who'd apparently been part of the procedure earlier, were summoned to monitor the situation.

"Oh…easy now," the older one, named Everett, consoled Sirius. "He's alright. Just a little tantrum. Not unheard of. Little mite had a rough go."

"He's on fire," Sirius noted numbly.

"Well, yes. It's not unusual for victims to transfigure themselves to survive their abusers."

Sirius stared at the middle aged wizard—grey eyes going wide.

"When you…remove hexes like these. You…see it. What the hex was about. I know it doesn't seem like it, but this was a good thing. That's how he saved himself. From your cousin."

Sirius's face spasmed with revulsion and horror. "He…set himself…?"

"And she had to let him go."

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