Disclaimer: Nope.

Author's Note: Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews. I'm really glad you liked that whole scene that set up the revelation about Regulus.

Before I say anything else, I just wanted to reassure everyone that there will be absolutely no Department of Mysteries debacle in this story. In the last chapter, when Sirius told Kreacher to leave, he only told him to "leave this room", not to "get out", like he did in the original book. However, since I received a comment expressing concern about that, I clarified the sentence to say, "Kreacher, go back to your den." That way, there's no way Kreacher can misinterpret it. Don't worry - there will be absolutely no trips through the veil for Sirius in this fic.

Yes, there are definitely some complicated feelings Sirius has concerning Regulus. You'll see a lot more of that in this chapter.

As for whether any dark objects can be used against Voldemort and the Death Eaters ... I love that idea. A lot of them were destroyed in the last chapter, but you never know what's left.

Thank you so much, Yellow 14, for your comments. No, I never imagined you'd write spin-offs for this story, or that I'd be able to use the characters you created to develop it further. And Sturgis's importance - you have no idea what the character he's based on has done for me, and the perspective on life that he's given me. He never ceases to amaze me, and bringing him to life in this story - there's nothing like it.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter as Sirius finds out many things about his little brother that he never knew before.

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Sirius's mind was racing. He felt his heart somersaulting in his chest as he stood quietly outside a room that, although he'd seen it plenty of times since he'd entered this house, he had never ventured into. Despite Moody's words, Sirius knew the truth - he had been a coward. He and Harry had been living here since the end of June, and he'd been too scared to face what he might find in here.

Regulus. Just hearing that filthy, reviled elf say his little brother's name sent Sirius's mind spinning. Feelings of hate, disgust, revulsion, and anger combined with feelings of love, grief, guilt, and regret, making Sirius feel like he couldn't breathe as he tried to prepare himself for the inevitability of the flashbacks that would occur once he stepped inside this room.

This ... this wasn't even something he and Healer Dixon had faced yet. Although Sirius was tempted to wait for their next session to even think about it further, he just couldn't. They wouldn't meet again for another five days, and Sirius knew that if he waited, it would only make things worse. He wouldn't be able to sleep, and he would be no good to Harry. He couldn't afford to be a coward any longer - it was unacceptable.

Sirius stared at the sign above the threshold of the door. His brother had put it up there when he was thirteen years old, and Sirius had snorted with disdain upon seeing it. The pure arrogance of such a thing - it had galled him to no end. "Do not enter without the express permission of Regulus Arcturus Black," it proclaimed. Echoes of the resentment and bitterness Sirius had felt in those days tried to make its way into his consciousness, but with an effort, he forced them back. Now was not the time, he reminded himself firmly as Kreacher's sobs and wails that he couldn't tell Sirius something about Regulus bombarded him.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Sirius mustered up every ounce of courage he had. Regulus had always sneered at it in their later years, hadn't he? He'd called it Gryffindor foolishness, Gryffindor stupidity. What would he think of Sirius now as he stood there, trying to dredge up all of it in order to simply open a door? Where was that bluster now, as Regulus had referred to it?

The door was locked. Well ... that wasn't a surprise. Regulus had always locked his door when he hadn't been in his room. Sirius hadn't - he didn't give two hoots if his mother came in his room. In fact, he'd wanted her to. He wanted her to see the Gryffindor banners that adorned the walls, the pictures of Muggle models, the motorcycles. He wanted to see the anger light up her eyes, wanted to hear her scream at him. He had reveled in bellowing back at her, telling her exactly what he thought of her attitude and her wretched beliefs.

Regulus, though ... his insistence on privacy to such an extent that he posted a snooty sign on his door ... it had made Sirius laugh rather nastily. He acted like he was above everyone else. He was Regulus Arcturus Black and no one had the right to come in his room without his "express permission". It was ridiculous.

Sirius felt so mixed up inside, like a cauldron that was about to explode. Raising his wand, he tried several unlocking charms until he finally came upon the right one. After all, there were spells out there much more complicated than Alohamora, and Regulus had indeed used one of those.

Upon entering the room, a sudden bout of nostalgia hit Sirius so hard that he swayed, feeling rather dizzy. It was like being thrown back almost two decades - the room looked very, very similar to the last time Sirius had seen it. Nineteen years ago, it had been the summer of 1976. At the end of his fifth year at Hogwarts, he had only stayed at Grimmauld Place for two weeks before he'd finally had enough and couldn't take being here anymore. A familiar bitterness filled him upon seeing the newspaper articles that decorated the walls of the room. They were all about the rise of Voldemort, and the disappearances and deaths that had the wizarding world in a frenzy. Sirius had been in this room that summer and had seen these ... decorations, and it had resulted in a confrontation where Sirius had bellowed himself hoarse at Regulus. The younger boy had responded with a smirking, sneering superiority that had made Sirius sick to his stomach.

There had been a terrible fight with his family around the dinner table that same evening, and that had been the final straw. He had been sent to his room and, hours later when his entire family was fast asleep, he left and never looked back. He had left a note on the kitchen table for his family to find the next morning, telling them in no uncertain terms that he was done with them and their evil beliefs. The message had ended with the words: "See you in Hell."

Looking back at that now, he knew his words had been rather melodramatic. But if his parents were to stand in front of him now, he knew that all those familiar feelings would rise to the surface. They had truly been vile, filthy people. Finding out that they had both met their maker had not induced grief in him - there was only a vicious kind of relief that their existence would no longer taint the universe.

But Regulus ... as he stared around the room, old memories of camaraderie and companionship came upon him, drowning out the feelings of anger and resentment that had burned inside him for so long. He had spent ages allowing envy and spite to eat him up from the inside out - Orion and Walburga Black had treated his brother like the golden child. As Sirius's relationship with his parents had grown worse, Regulus had endeared himself to them more and more until he could practically do no wrong in their eyes. "If only you were like your brother, Sirius. He does not disgrace this family." The constant refrain was a broken record year after year until Sirius had finally snapped.

But now, memories of times long past, of the laughter two young boys had once shared echoed in the silence of the room. Sirius and Regulus Black had once shared good times together. They had once known how to smile at each other without any bitterness between them. Walburga and Orion had tried their hardest to squash any childish impulses they had - they didn't have the kind of childhood where they were allowed to play in the park, go swimming, or go out to restaurants. But, once upon a time, Sirius and Regulus found other ways to have fun. Though Regulus rebelled far more subtly and quietly than Sirius, there had been a time when they'd whispered secrets in each other's ears.

"Shhhh, keep your voice down." A six-year-old Regulus urged a seven-year-old Sirius. "You know Mother and Father don't like it when you tell me stories. Do you want them to catch us?"

"Sorry." Sirius whispered, realizing that he had been getting so into the story that he had started to speak very loudly. "No, I don't." He gazed into Regulus's shining eyes as he continued the story - it had been about a wizard who had defeated a dragon which was trying to destroy an entire village with its flames. "And they all lived happily ever after," he finished with a flourish, an incredible feeling of success coming to life within him at witnessing Regulus's smile.

"Why don't Mother and Father like stories, Sirius?" Regulus had asked softly then - Walburga and Orion had outright forbidden their children to call them Mum and Dad, saying it was too informal for a noble, proper family like theirs. And if they dared to refer to them as Mummy and Daddy, Merlin might as well come and strike them down. Only several days ago, Sirius had done that on purpose just to annoy them, and he'd gone to bed without dinner for his trouble.

"Because they say we're not common folk like other families are." Sirius had wrinkled his nose upon delivering those words. "I don't understand it. I like making up stories for you."

"I don't understand, either." Regulus had rewarded Sirius with another soft smile. "I promise I won't tell if you promise you'll keep making them up."

"Good." Sirius had grinned. "I promise to keep telling them, then."

But things had changed. Hogwarts had only cemented the doubts he'd had about his family, making it all too apparent that they weren't as pure as the driven snow - their views on magic, on blood, on family, even on things as simple as having fun - they were just ... wrong. James, Remus, and Peter had shown him that. And Lily Evans - she was Muggle-born. Mudblood, his mother spat about people like her, with a loathing in her voice that downright scared Sirius. He had seen with his own two eyes that she possessed more magic in her pinkie finger than some of the arrogant, snotty purebloods did in their entire bodies.

He couldn't wait until next year, when he could show Regulus, who was much more reserved than him, that it was okay to be free. They'd be in Gryffindor together - they'd have to be. It could be no other way.

But then, Sirius had come home to find a Regulus who had been under his parents' roof for an entire year with nothing but their influence and that of their disgusting associates. Sirius was heartbroken to discover the brainwashing that their parents had subjected Regulus to. Upon learning that Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor, the rants against him had seemingly never stopped. When Regulus had started parroting the very words and phrases Orion and Walburga spouted, it had shattered Sirius to pieces. The boy who had once so hungrily listened to Sirius's stories scowled at him, looking more haughty and smug than Sirius had ever seen. There were still shades of the little boy that remained within him, but with each passing year, they only seemed to be buried deeper and deeper inside him. And the summer Sirius ran away from home, Regulus barely resembled the brother he had once loved. He had become a sneering, arrogant bastard who worshiped the likes of Voldemort, just like so many of his housemates. And then ... and then he'd joined the Death Eaters and gotten himself killed.

Sirius sighed deeply, phantom voices of two young boys whose relationship had been torn apart resounding in his mind as he shakily made his way over to Regulus's desk. The room was neat and tidy, as it always had been. That was one thing that had never changed - even when they were young, Regulus kept his room clean while Sirius had taken a distinct pleasure in making his as messy as humanly possible. "You will clean your room this instant, Sirius." The sneer that had marred his mother's face had made him grin widely. He didn't care how many times he was punished for disobedience.

The drawers in Regulus's desk had locking charms on them, too. The door was one thing - Regulus had been snooty like that. But his desk drawers? No matter how much resentment Sirius had built up over the years, this seemed a bit much. Kreacher's reaction to that evil, sinister locket echoed through his mind. The way that dark detector had gone bonkers rang like an alarm bell. Had Regulus been hiding something?

It was a good thing Sirius had learned so many unlocking charms. Sturgis, as his mentor during Auror training, had been the one to teach him. Even after all this time, he remembered all the wrist movements, and the way the magic felt as it came out of his wand. He was incredibly relieved that he had not lost the knack for how to complete this task.

The first thing Sirius found, however, was not some deep, dark secret. His breath caught in his throat as he unearthed the contents of the first drawer of Regulus's desk. No wonder Regulus had locked this up tightly. Though Sirius thought that Regulus had been such a little darling to his parents that they wouldn't try and look through his drawers anyway, it made sense that his brother hadn't taken any chances.

Shocked was far too weak of a word to describe how Sirius felt upon discovering a sheaf of parchment with very childlike handwriting on it - Sirius's handwriting. Sirius would never forget when Regulus, once again six years old at the time, had practically begged Sirius to write down the stories he told him so that he'd always remember them. Sirius, who lived for the enraptured look upon Regulus's face whenever he told his wild tales, had agreed to do so. Every single sentence was worth it when Regulus had thrown his little arms around him, thanking him profusely. "I'll hide them so that Mother and Father can't ever see them," he'd promised.

Back then, neither of the boys had known locking charms, and Sirius had honestly wondered how Regulus had managed to hide them so well. It was only when Sirius had gone to Hogwarts and their parents had so thoroughly ruined Regulus that they began to regard him as perfect, and Sirius had known that they would no longer be on the lookout for any suspicious behavior. Regulus was their little angel who could make no mistakes. Sirius had had no idea that Regulus still had his old, silly stories - and that Regulus had been sure to lock them securely away. Sirius had been positive that Regulus, who had acted like he felt nothing more than sneering contempt and loathing towards his brother, had thrown them away or, better yet, burned them to cinders.

But he'd done no such thing, and Sirius could barely believe it. He rummaged through the pile - and every single one of them was there. He found the one about the wizard who had defeated the dragon, his heart racing with both incredulous joy and incredible pain.

"Reggie." The familiar nickname escaped his lips as his eyes burned. He felt his throat burning as well as his eyes scanned the parchment. It was yellowed with age, but the words were still decipherable. Regulus had kept these ... right up until his death.

After several minutes, Sirius knew he had to move on. With gentle care, he put the parchments back in the drawer and unlocked the second one.

There was only one thing in this drawer. It was a page that had obviously been ripped out of a book. This struck Sirius as quite unusual, just on its face. Regulus had always handled books with great care, and Sirius found it distinctly odd that he would ever tear a page out of one. Something about this must be very significant.

A shiver racked up his spine when he read the first word on the page.

Horcrux.

Sirius was familiar with a lot of magical terminology, but he had never heard this word before. He couldn't help but shudder at how sinister it sounded, though. Why Sirius got such an eerie feeling from it, he didn't know, but it sent goosebumps up his arms and down his legs all the same.

As Sirius read, he felt a disgusting, sick horror creep through him. What the ... what the hell? What the ...

What kind of ... of vile, awful shit was this? What the hell was his brother doing with ... with this in his drawer?

Sirius had thought he was familiar with the depths of depravity witches and wizards could sink to. His cousin, Bellatrix, who was still entombed within Azkaban's walls, was the worst kind of evil. Her demented husband, Rodolphus, was no better. The other hooded, masked demons he'd fought in the First War had enraged him beyond belief.

But this ...

Sirius felt like his skin was crawling with filth as his mind begged for the words on the page to change - or better yet, disappear altogether. But they didn't, only seeming to become more sinister as he stared at them.

Was this ... was this why Voldemort hadn't died when ... when he had tried to kill his godson and the spell had backfired on him? Sirius would never forget finding Lily's lifeless body in Harry's nursery. He'd just screamed and sobbed his heart out over finding James's corpse, apologizing endlessly to the man who could no longer hear him. Sirius had closed James's empty hazel eyes for him, kissing his forehead before he'd made his way up the stairs.

Lily. Heartsick, he'd stared into her beautiful emerald eyes, which were just as lifeless and empty as James's were. He perfectly recalled his awe, shock, and incredible relief upon finding Harry - alive. How was it possible? Lily and James were dead - but Harry was alive.

And then, he saw it. Holding Harry in his arms, he saw it there - next to Lily's body. It was a cloak that Sirius recognized - and it had made him sick with fury and hatred. He'd seen that cloak in battle several times - it was Voldemort's cloak.

And now, years later, in a room he had refused to set foot in for over two months, Sirius stared at a page from a book that might just be the answer to the question of how Voldemort still existed to this day - and it was the most revolting thing he had ever seen.

It was hardly a surprise, though, was it? This was Voldemort. It made all the sense in the world. Of course he would use magic in this way. Of course he'd murder people, and use their deaths to achieve his own aims. Sirius felt wretchedly nauseous - and even more so at the fact that his little brother had this information in his bloody desk drawer.

Sirius felt his hands shaking as he unlocked the third desk drawer. He noticed that with each drawer, the locking charms grew more complicated. It took him several minutes to get this one open, and by the time he did, he felt like his blood was boiling in his veins, his heart beating so hard against his ribcage that he thought he might faint.

Letters. There were letters in this drawer, and as Sirius read, they left no room for doubt as to who the recipient was. Instead of them being written in Regulus's neat, tidy script, they were written in a scratched, hurried scrawl that was the complete antithesis of everything that Regulus Black was. There were even places on some of the parchments where there weren't words at all - only spots of ink.

Sirius knew his mouth was gaping open in shock as he read each one, but he didn't care. These were the words of someone who had come to a brutal realization that had come about over time. This was the rage of someone who had been bottling up his emotions, and was finally letting them loose.

And as Sirius read, he was struck with his own realization - maybe the boy he'd once loved, the boy he thought had been buried beneath layers of brainwashing and hate ... maybe, he'd actually escaped from his confines and revealed himself to Sirius for one last time.

I know what you did. How dare you use Kreacher to achieve your aims. I should have just refused when you asked to use a house-elf and looked right at me. I'm such a bloody fool. You almost left him for dead because I was stupid enough to believe in you.

My parents always preached to me about good sportsmanship. I wanted to make them proud. They told me your cause was right and just and like a gormless fool, I believed them. I bought their bullshit hook, line, and sinker. Now I find out that you can't even accept being beaten, and you have to make this foul thing so that you can't die. I can't believe I ever thought that what you were doing was right. I thought Mother and Father were right about us being superior to those of lesser blood than us. But every time I hear ... those people ... screaming, it makes me sick. Sirius was right all along - you are a monster. I hated him for running away - but now, I wish I'd gone with him.

I'm going to destroy you. You almost killed Kreacher. I'm going to make you pay for ruining my life. Mother and Father will never know. I'll swear Kreacher to secrecy.

Sirius didn't know when tears had started falling, but all he knew was that they wouldn't stop as he read through the parchments. His little brother sounded desperate and stricken and afraid. But as Sirius read each parchment, they seemed to be in order. Regulus's thoughts changed from the enraged rantings of a horrified, guilty, betrayed young man to ones of vengeance and determination.

And then, he came upon the last one:

Kreacher and I will go to the cave tonight. I know I am not going to survive past this. I know I cannot tell anyone. I know no one will understand - least of all, Sirius. I know he thinks I was a coward to join the Dark Lord, and he was right. I can never tell him I'm sorry, though. I can only hope my death brings him some measure of peace. I will order Kreacher to destroy the Horcrux.

I don't want fame. I don't want notoriety. I don't want anyone to know that I aided in the Dark Lord's destruction. The monster will never know that his precious Horcrux was even touched. I hope he burns in Hell for everything he's done - and me, along with him. I deserve it.

R.A.B.

Sirius's heart felt like it had been ripped out of his chest as he read the very last words his little brother had ever written. He hadn't died as a coward, being killed by one of Voldemort's servants because he didn't follow orders. Instead, he had died trying to destroy him - and he'd done it willingly; he knew it was going to kill him.

And if he had indeed ordered Kreacher to destroy the Horcrux - he hadn't succeeded. Despair filled Sirius up, almost strangling him. No wonder Bill had refused to try and destroy that locket - even without knowing what it was, he had known that it was far too dangerous to handle himself. What was it going to take to destroy it? Sirius knew one thing for sure - there were others in the Order who had to find out about this.

And there was something about a cave. There was a story there - something had happened between Kreacher and Regulus, and it had something to do with a cave and this Horcrux. And Sirius was more determined than ever to find out exactly what had happened. He recalled something else - Regulus's body had never been discovered. Sirius had always suspected Bellatrix of being the one to kill him, but now, this had proven to be untrue. Not that Bellatrix wouldn't have done so if she'd found out his treacherous thoughts - but it was clear Regulus had died in the attempt to destroy the locket, and he'd known he would.

Love, grief, guilt, and unbearable regret. Those were the only feelings Sirius felt now. Tears fell down his face, tears that washed away the hatred, resentment, jealousy, bitterness, and anger Sirius had harbored towards his brother for years. In Azkaban, he had cursed Regulus for being nothing more than a no-good coward. He had let the darkness take over, allowing it to cover up the memories of every good time the two brothers had shared together.

But now, they all seemed to return to him. Sirius remembered everything now, with a crystal clarity that filled him with purpose. Regulus had given him something - maybe he hadn't meant to, but Sirius couldn't be sure. Why had he written all these letters to Voldemort and left them here, in this place?

Surely, he knew that Sirius never wanted to return here. If it had been up to him, he never would have. And Regulus had ordered Kreacher not to speak a word to Sirius about what had happened.

Maybe it had been subconscious. Maybe, in the run-up to his final moments, Regulus was desperate for Sirius to know, even if he didn't know it. The fact that he'd been referred to in Regulus's letters - the words echoed in his mind: Sirius was right all along. I hated him for running away - but now, I wish I'd gone with him. Maybe ... maybe he had wanted Sirius to know that he hadn't died a coward.

And as Sirius knelt by Regulus's desk, finally mourning for his long-lost brother, he came to the stark, shattering conclusion that Regulus, rather than being a coward, had been braver than Sirius could ever be.