Most of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place remained the same throughout the years. Other things changed. Such is the nature of time.
One of the main changes was the protective measures surrounding the house—it had already been hidden from Muggles, however the rising tensions in the world around meant that this sadly wasn't enough any more. This all because of rumours going around, rumours that these Pureblood riots were only the beginning of something bigger and darker.
On the inside, the changes reflected the family growing older. Cots and changing tables stood unused in the attic, and the nursery had been transformed into a playroom now the boys had their own bedrooms on the topmost landing.
This is where they lay now, sound asleep.
This is where familiar voice stirred Regulus from his sleep.
"Master Regulus?"
He slowly opened his eyes and wiped the sleep from them. He stared right into the bloodshot eyes of his house elf and smiled. "Good morning!"
"Mistress is waiting for Master Regulus in the drawing room," Kreacher croaked.
"I'm coming, tell her I'm coming."
Kreacher disappeared and Regulus rubbed his eyes once more, yawning as he woke up more properly. He got up, got dressed, and made his way down to the drawing room.
He knocked on the door and his mother answered from the other side. "Come in."
He straightened his back and opened it, entering the room. He was "too young", expected to be playing all the time, or up in his bedroom... but that was all going to change tomorrow. That's what made this so exciting.
The family tapestry covered the entire left wall and in front of this tapestry stood his mother, who greeted him: "Ah, Regulus, dear. I hope you had a good night's sleep."
Regulus nodded in response. "Good morning, Mother. I hope you did, too."
She nodded. Pleasantries out of the way, she got straight to the point. "Tomorrow you will turn seven years old. This is an important, exciting milestone, as you know. You will then be of age to begin your proper education in the ways of our noble heritage."
He nodded. Oh, he simply couldn't wait to finally be old enough to have a say in things, to no longer be the baby of the family. To finally be seven. Such a magical number, such a magical world for him to enter. The world of a little person ready to learn and to grow. And he already knew he would study long and hard to be the best he could be, to be even better than Sirius!
Just as he opened his mouth to say something about his desires to be better than his brother, Sirius ran into the room, panting heavily as he came to a halt next to Regulus. "I'm late, I-"
"Silence, Sirius. What have I told you about notifying people before you barge in on them? Are you too thick to learn? Even Regulus has mastered the art of knocking," his mother interjected, staring at Sirius with her piercing glare.
He had to hold in a smile, pride welling up inside him as he watched his mother reprimand Sirius. It always made him feel better about himself to hear that he was better at something than Sirius, because it meant that age wasn't everything. Besides, it was great to hear he did something right, even if it was only in comparison to his brother (who did nothing right).
"I'm sorry, Mother," Sirius said.
Mother ignored Sirius' apology, instead gesturing behind her to the enormous family tapestry, continuing where she left off.
"Our bloodline stretches back centuries, and it's filled with some of history's greatest witches and wizards—They've all fought hard to uphold the purity of magical blood. As I've said before: we have been blessed with immense power. It is our duty to preserve it, to protect it, and to pass it on to the next generation."
Regulus nodded, listening to everything she said, soaking up every single word, his gaze fixed on the tapestry as she pointed to some people she noted were especially important.
"Now this is your great-great-grandfather,Phineas Nigellus Black. He was a formidable wizard and a wonderful Headmaster of Hogwarts—the best headmaster Hogwarts has ever had, if you ask me, though certain witches and wizards may disagree," she said with a sneer, and she looked around the tapestry for someone else.
"And this is my cousin, Araminta Meliflua—a noble woman... She died shortly before you were born, Sirius. You both would have loved her, she truly was special."
"What do you mean?" Sirius' voice broke Regulus' focus, and he looked at his brother, who had crossed his arms, staring at the tapestry with what could only be described as an arrogant face.
His gaze shifted to Mother, whose lips curled into a proud smile as she thought back to her cousin. "She fought so hard to make Muggle hunting legal, it truly is a shame the bill never managed to get through..."
Regulus looked out of one of the windows, the houses of their neighbours were all off-limits to Regulus and his brother because those things, those Muggles lived in them. Actual, real-life Muggles. Muggles who could get any sort of funny ideas into their heads when they found out he could do magic and would probably eat him. If not worse.
"To rid the world of those wretched beasts!" Regulus flinched at his mother's unexpected yelp breaking his line of thought and bringing him back to the present.
A deadly silence followed. He looked at his mother, who was still fuming with anger—for some reason. He had missed what happened. He looked at his brother, who seemed to be avoiding his gaze as he stared at the ceiling, then a wall, before finally choosing to stare at the floor. It was probably his fault. It had to be, no-one else was here to anger Mother.
And Sirius always angered Mother, and Father, too. It was a game for him, always questioning them with that smug smile of his! Sirius was old enough to be in the drawing room all the time if he liked, to talk about things like 'purity' with Mother and Father but of course Sirius wasn't ever to be found here. Sirius liked to run around the house, sliding down staircases and ruining Regulus' toys.
But if Sirius wasn't interested in learning all about purity and other grownup things, then Regulus was very interested. And tomorrow, he would be old enough to talk about such things himself, and he'd show Sirius—no, he'd show everyone he was the better Black son.
Better yet—he'd start today. So he asked.
"Purity, Mother? What kind of purity? What's important about it?"
"Regulus, dear, don't you know?" She smiled, and pointed back at the tapestry. "What did I just tell you? Look at all the wonderful witches and wizards. True witches and wizards with pure, uncontaminated blood that went before you. Do you think we could've done all we did if there were Muggles, Mudbloods, or half-bloods in our bloodline? Oh no!"
Sirius snorted. Mother ignored him and continued: "Our blood must remain uncontaminated and pure, because purity is what gives us strength. We are the pure bloods, the chosen ones. Toujours Pur. Do you understand that?"
He simply shook his head.
"Power is not meant for everyone, Regulus," she continued to explain, now taking a few steps towards him, crouching down to his level.
"Magical power is a privilege. Only those born from true, pure wizards and witches – people who aren't related to Muggles and their ilk – are capable. Others cannot comprehend the true nature of magic, so to mingle with them is to weaken our strength, to get rid of our much-deserved power..."
She put her hands on both Regulus' and Sirius' shoulders as she looked at both of them intently. "You'll learn as you grow older."
"Mother," came Sirius, his voice barely above a whisper, "what about the others, then? Those who aren't pureblood?"
His mother's eyes hardened, her tone turning cold. "They are like wild animals. Beasts. To even think of having relations with them..." she visibly shuddered at the thought, but it didn't stop Sirius, who furrowed his brow.
"But... can't they still be powerful?"
Regulus held his breath as he watched his now angry mother get up and reply with a firm "no". Then she added: "purebloods have repeatedly demonstrated that our power surpasses that of anyone else. Listen to what I say! It is our heritage, our lineage, that grants us our greatness, and those without pure blood cannot even begin to comprehend the depths of true magical strength! There are some who claim to; they are fakes, frauds—shame to the lot of them!"
"But Mother... there must be talented witches and wizards who aren't purebloods. What about them? Isn't it... unfair?"
Regulus let out a grown st his brother's idiocy. He was either paying no attention to what Mother said whatsoever, or was deliberately trying to wind her up. Both seemed equally plausible—he couldn't genuinely be so thick as to think that those who had no pure blood could be powerful when Mother just told them that power came from having pure blood!
He was grateful his mother also had no patience answering Sirius' question over and over again, though he flinched slightly as she yelled: "silence, Sirius! These impure thoughts have no place in this household! You are a Black, and you better start acting like it!"
He looked at his brother, who was glaring at the floor now, as if trying to kill it with nothing but his eyes. His mother turned her attention back to Regulus, her voice softening just slightly.
"Regulus, my dearer son," she said, glancing sideways at his brother, "please just... don't listen to him, okay? He's not smart like you. He's just trying to cause a scene, be a rebel for a bit..." she sighed. "Both of you need to remember where you come from. You're Blacks. We're practically royalty."
"Yes, Mother," Regulus said, nodding enthusiastically. Now that he could understand. Royalty, like the princes and princesses from his bedtime stories. He could be a prince, a good prince, and make not just his mother, not just his father, but the entire wizarding world proud of him.
"Good boy," she said, and Regulus beamed. "I expected nothing less of you."
Sirius remained silent.
"Ready yourselves for the big day tomorrow, and make sure you are both on your best behaviour."
With that, they were dismissed. By the time he had left the room, his brother grabbed his arm and yanked him across to the playroom, where, once inside, Sirius started to barricade the door with toy boxes and other heavy objects he could find.
"What are you doing that for? What's going on?"
When his brother didn't answer him, he decided to just sit down on the floor and wait for him to finish. It was a funny sight, seeing him running around dragging all sorts of things towards the door – there went another chair – as if he was a spy from one of those story books.
Once there was nothing left to place in front of the door any more, he leaned against the wall, catching his breath. Then he turned to face him, his head tilted slightly to the side. "Reg," he said, looking thoughtful, "you know Mother's not right... right? It's unfair to judge someone just because of their blood."
Regulus watched him get away from the wall and closer to him. What was he on about? Sirius put a hand on his shoulder in a way that was likely meant to be comforting and reassuring, but made Regulus feel threatened in a way.
His brother closed his eyes, as if desperately trying to remember what he wanted to say. Then, he sat down next to Regulus and said: "It's not about where you come from, but what you make of the magic inside you."
He opened his mouth to say that he hadn't a clue what he was talking about, but Sirius put his hands over his mouth to silence him as he continued his little speech. "Mother's view of the world is narrow-minded. It's like she's stuck in the past, she's holding onto these ancient beliefs. But we don't have to be like her, you know. We can go our own way."
It was clear to him he had thoroughly rehearsed this little conversation somehow, though he didn't really understand much of what it was about. Did his brother think Mother was lying? That everyone was lying? Where was he getting these ideas from, anyway? It all seemed vaguely threatening, the way he spoke, the way he acted...
He tore his brothers hands away from his mouth. "What do you mean? Why are you telling me this? What's going on!"
Sirous smiled, as if it was time for his favourite part of his favourite story. "Reg, I won't lie to you. Standing up for what we believe in may come with some... con-consequences." He struggled with the big word, and Regulus frowned. He wasn't sure what it meant.
Sirius ignored his confusion, however, and said, rather proudly: "But I'd rather face those consequences than live a life of prejudice and hatred! We have got to be true to ourselves, no matter the cost."
Regulus chewed on his lower lip as Sirius' words echoed through his mind. We can go our own way. Was Sirius planning on leaving him behind, on defying Mother and Father because of those ridiculous ideas? And worst of all... was he expecting him to go along with it? Now?!
"I don't want to lose our family," he complained. "I don't want to lose you..."
Sirius grinned, grabbing hold of his shoulders once more. "We will face challenges, Reg, but remember this: I will always be by your side, no matter what... we are brothers, this means our bond can't be broken. I promise."
Regulus looked up at his big brother, who looked back at him in determination. He couldn't hold it any longer and leaned into him, hugging him tightly. He didn't know what had got into his big brother's head but the promise made him feel slightly better. If only Sirius did away with these ideas. Mother was right, he was being a little rebel and if he continued to act like this... he didn't want to think about it, but he had the most awful feeling that this promise wouldn't last long.
For the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, there was no going back after you left the family.