The next morning, Regulus was woken by the first rays of sunlight shining through the curtains. He felt around with his hands as he couldn't feel his puffskein in his arms, but as he opened his eyes the realisation hit him: he wasn't home.

He remembered the events of last night and closed his eyes again, hoping to fall back asleep so he could get away from this house. He had known beforehand that the first few months without Sirius would be difficult... but this was unlike anything he could have imagined. Alone, in a Muggle house. And he didn't even have Puffskein-Sirius with him.

Sirius... he hoped he was safe, that he got to Hogwarts all right, that he wasn't in a similar situation to himself. He pictured Sirius sitting in the Slytherin common room surrounded by friends and for some reason, that only made him sadder.

Maybe some fresh air could help him feel better. He got up from the bed and went over to the window, sliding it open and breathing in the crisp morning air. The street outside was quiet. There were a few Muggles out and about but for the most part the village seemed to be deserted. Oh, how unlike home...

He closed the window again and leaned against the wall, looking around the Muggle bedroom. Last night's cake stood on the desk, untouched. "Sorry, Kreacher," he mumbled to himself. He had meant to eat it, he really had... he just hadn't made it back upstairs awake. He had passed out at the kitchen table, utterly exhausted, and someone had been kind enough to get him up here. He never had the chance to eat the cake Kreacher had prepared for him all by himself.

They say it's the thought that counts, but was it? He felt like a lousy friend, not even touching the cake Kreacher had gone out of his way to make. He wish he could make up for it now, but even the mere thought of eating made his insides twist and turn and threaten to send anything he stuffed down back up. Maybe later.

That's when he spotted Kreacher, and he felt even worse. He stood in the doorway holding yet another tray. Regulus could swear that Kreacher seemed disappointed at the sight of the untouched cake. More than disappointed—he looked defeated.

He walked around the bed, towards the house elf. He wasn't sure what to say. He could apologise, yes, tell him he'd eat later...

"Kreacher has come to give Master Regulus his breakfast," Kreacher said, not even waiting to hear what he had to say about the cake.

He shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

Kreacher stepped into the room, holding the tray up to him. "Master Regulus has to eat."

"I'm really not hungry," he repeated.

"No!" Kreacher pushed the tray against him. "Master Regulus must eat!"

Regulus couldn't believe it. His mother was behind this one, he was sure of it. Or maybe his father, or Bellatrix. But there was no chance this was Kreacher's own doing like last night, so it wasn't like he could really get angry at the elf, but still... he was still pushing the tray against him even as he took steps back until he had to sit down on the bed because he couldn't walk backwards any longer without tripping over it.

Surely his parents had to understand he wasn't in the mood to eat? Surely Kreacher understood that?

"Kreacher," he said sternly, "I do not have to eat when I don't want to eat."

"You must eat something. It's not good for your health to go without food."

He groaned, and his stomach agreed with Kreacher—but at the same time, it didn't. It rumbled with hunger, then spun with nausea. How could he ever make sense of this?

"I know it's not good."

"Please eat, master," Kreacher said, putting the tray on his lap.

Regulus sighed, looking at the teary house elf in front of him, then back on his breakfast on his lap. Could he really disappoint Kreacher again?

He debated taking a few bites, maybe just a sausage, but the scents invading his nose were quickly becoming too much for him, and he shoved the tray back to Kreacher. "I can't do this."

"Master must eat."

"But you can't make me. You won't make me. I forbid it."

Kreacher hesitated for a moment, then took back the plate. But instead of leaving with it, he snapped his fingers and it floated over to the desk, landing next to his cake. "Master will eat later."

"I will not, stop telling me what to do. Just leave me be."

Kreacher hesitated, as if debating what his next move had to be, while Regulus had been very clear about that. Frustration turned into anger as Kreacher kept staring at him instead of leaving like he had asked him to.

"I said, leave me alone! What good is a house elf who can't even follow a simple command? I don't want to eat, and I don't want to be bothered right now! And don't you dare question me!"

Kreacher, visibly shaken, bowed his head in submission. "Yes, master," he said. "Kreacher knows his place."

'Kreacher knows his place', he mimicked the house elf in mocking. Right, sure, so that's what he called it when he went around shoving trays into people, forcing them to do what they didn't wang to do. He never should've given Kreacher the ridiculous idea that they were friends. What had he been thinking, last night?! Now everything was ruined. Everything was ruined for good.

Regulus barely noticed Kreacher had disappeared. He barely even felt the pain in his head as he pulled on his own hair. Everything was ruined, everything was wrong—he was stuck with a house elf who wouldn't listen in a Muggle house and Sirius wasn't even here with him, not even his Puffskein-Sirius was here to snuggle with, and none if the grownups seemed to actually care about him ag all, they were always talking to each other about everything as if he wasn't even there when he was TEN YEARS OLD AND HE KNEW THINGS!

He clenched his hands into fists although he barely felt his nails digging through his skin, piercing it, threatening to draw blood. Nobody ever included him in anything, and how he was all alone. Sure Sirius was at Hogwarts 'alone', but he wasn't alone, there were hundreds of others there. But here, Regulus was alone. Truly alone. With nothing and nobody to talk to.

Jumped up from the bed and took the pillows and covers off, tossing them against the wall. The room seemed to close in on him as his anger surged, his heart pounding in his chest. The bed, the desk, the chair—all the objects in the room started to tremble violently and those stupid, rude people in their Muggle picture frames were sent flying off the walls, the glsss shattering from the impact as they hit the floor.

The curtains were sent swirling in a chaotic whirlwind, and the lamp on the desk shattered into shards of glass as his vision became blurred with tears of frustration, anger and helplessness. His thoughts became incoherent and he fought to regain control, but the anger continued to overwhelm any rational thought.

He ran into the wall, dizziness momentarily overtaking him. He slammed his fists against the hard surface and he continued to hammer in on the wall whilst the whole room was shaking in response to his emotions. Harder and harder and harder—he felt none of the resulting pain until there was a hand. Two hands, on his shoulders. The hands took hold of him, pulling him away from the wall and the moment the soaring pain in his hands took over, the room stopped shaking.

He fell to his knees; all the objects fell to the ground. Many of them were now broken. The hands on his shoulders had arms and those arms held him close. He buried his face in these arms, against the chest, the familiar scent of his mother calming him down in a way nothing else could. Even the pain in his hands took a backseat again.

He listened to his mother's heartbeat and let his tears fall. They stayed like that for a while. She gently rocked him back and forth as his sobs quieted.

Finally, he raised his head, meeting her gaze. She smiled softly at him, her own eyes teary. She lifted one of her arms and wiped some of the tears from his cheek.

Regulus took a deep, but shaky, breath. "I- I'm sorry... I- I didn't mean... I'm just... I'm so tired."

"Regulus, my dear," she spoke softly, reaching for his hands. Regulus looked down, and had trouble recognising them—they were covered in blood, the burning sensation returning at once, and he let out a scream as the pain took over.

But it didn't last long. A few seconds later, they were painless again. He looked at his mother, her wand still in her hand.

"I know you're tired, and you've been through a lot, but you mustn't let your anger consume you like this," she said.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It won't happen again."

And it wouldn't. She was disappointed in him, and he couldn't blame her—he was disappointed in him, too. So it wouldn't happen again. It really wouldn't. He knew he could be better, but it took so much strength to control his emotions. Strength he just didn't have right now. Strength he'd make sure to have in the future.

"That's a good boy," she said. She helped him get to his feet, and when she next opened her mouth, she seemed almost proud. "Take a look around the room. Look at what you've done."

The room was unrecognisable—not only were the pictures shattered and the floor covered in glass, pillows, wood and food, but it didn't look like the Muggle room anymore. The walls had the same colour green as his bedroom at home, and one of them even carried the Black family crest. He turned to face his mother. "I don't understand, how-"

She smiled. "Magic."

Magic.

Magic.

He had done this.

He had desperately wanted to be at home, and now, he had managed to actually change parts of the room to be more like home! He took another look around the room, his smile growing bigger with every homely detail he noticed. He still couldn't quite believe it. "I did this?"

"Oh, yes. You'll be a strong wizard someday."

"You really think so?"

"I know so."

He looked around the room once more. It truly did feel more homey this way.

"I'll have Kreacher clean up this mess later," Mother said.

Kreacher. He found the cake smashed to the floor, spread out. Breakfast foods lay scattered across the room. What would Kreacher think if he saw the mess he had made? Oh, he had been so stupid! Getting so angry... and for what?

He followed Mother out of the bedroom and down the stairs, into the dining room, where he came to an abrupt halt.

Kreacher sat there on the table, his feet outstretched on Bellatrix's lap. She was muttering things to him as she moved her wand over his feet, occasionally pulling something out.

But the most shocking part was that Kreacher was bleeding.

"What...?"

Kreacher jumped up on the table, though Bellatrix tried to pull him back down. "Master Regulus!"

"Er... hi." He felt so incredibly stupid, standing there, gaping at him. There was a small puddle of blood forming under his feet, and his hands were bandaged up—but the bandages were stained red.

Kreacher came closer. Regulus had to force himself to stay still, to not run away... Kreacher pushed his hands under his nose in pride. It was disgusting, and a little creepy.

"That's enough, Kreacher." Bellatrix saved him from this hell as Kreacher turned around and went back to her, who continued working on his bleeding feet.

He looked at Mother. She shrugged. "Better eat your breakfast next time."

"I did this?!"

"It'll heal," said Bellatrix. "It's nothing to worry about."

"But I hurt him..."

"Technically, he hurt himself," Mother corrected. "He's the one who decided that a ten-year-old not wanting breakfast was a valid reason to go against my direct orders."

Kreacher stayed silent.

"On the other hand, I don't think that's a valid reason. I think you need breakfast." She steered him towards the table and put a bowl of porridge in front of him. "Eat."

He stared at the bowl, but didn't pick up the spoon. The whimpers coming from Kreacher made him feel guilty and sick to his stomach, and he already had no appetite to begin with.

"Eat." She picked up the spoon, scooped up some porridge and held it out to him.

Reluctantly, he took the spoon, and put it in his mouth. The porridge seemed tasteless but he swallowed it nonetheless, taking a few more spoonfuls under the watchful eye of his mother.

He was halfway through the bowl when Kreacher jumped up again. "Wizards—outside!"

"Hide!" Mother instantly pushed him off his chair, pulling him under the table. "Stay here. Don't make a sound. Do you understand?"

"But-"

Mother clipped him around the ear. "NO BUTS! Silencio! Stay here."

And she was gone. Footsteps. More hurried footsteps, shouting, then silence. He didn't dare pull back the white tablecloth to get a better view of what was going on. He wasn't even sure he wanted to know.

There was a deafening roar and a searing, blinding light that he could see even here.

"Get the hell away from my family!" Father's voice pierced the air, but whomever he told this to didn't listen, for what followed was another blinding flash of light. He had to squeeze his eyes shut, burying his head in his arms to block it out.

It flashes red, orange, white... he heard the sounds of people crashing into other people, objects crashing into other objects...

He didn't know how much time had passed when the ground below him shook. He heard another loud bang and smelt the scent of burning debris, fragments of what once was the wall separating the kitchen from the hallway landing on top of the table, clattering down as if it was nothing but rain or hail. He lifted the tablecloth to see the destruction. He could see his parents and Bellatrix now, duelling with six others.

A jet of red light soared through the air, narrowly missing the table. He quickly let the cloth fall back and held his breath. They could've seen him. He never should've looked.

"There's another one!"

His fears became reality when footsteps approached. The table was turned on its side with a bang, and he was exposed. He called for help but his mother's spell still kept him silent so he resorted to curling up, making himself as small as possible in a desperate attempt to hide himself from the baddies.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The room lit up bright green and the battle died out—for a moment, there was no sound. The stillness of the scene was eerie, worse even than the battle itself. It was broken by thud and followed by hysterical screaming coming from all over the room.

Regulus sat up, carefully looking around the room that once held the kitchen. It was utterly destroyed. Its windows shattered, cupboards blown to pieces, food splashed out everywhere...

The six people from before – Aurors – were running around the room. Except there were only five of them now; the sixth lay at Regulus' feet.

Bellatrix was chasing the remaining Aurors, the room flashing green each time she lifted her wand and spoke. It all seemed so surreal, any fear he knew he should be feeling had left his body as he watched the wizards drop to the floor one by one.

Until there was no-one left to chase, no-one left to shoot the green flashes at. There was no-one but Bella, Mother and Father.

Mother and Father immediately rushed towards him; Bellatrix stood between the Aurors and let out a shrill laugh that went straight through him.

Mother and Father held him, cradled him, whispered soothing words but he couldn't look away from his cousin standing there, walking—no, dancing around the dead wizards that lay around her.

"...you all right?"

He snapped away from Bella and stared at his father. He nodded. He was fine.

"You're so strong," Mother said, lifting her spell from before. "You've been really brave today."

"What happened to them?"

It wasn't that he didn't know the answer to his question. He wasn't stupid. He knew. To some extent, he knew what had happened. And yet...

"Dead!" Bellatrix hurried over. "They thought we would come quietly, they thought they could take us down, ha! They're no match for us. Fools."

He looked at his parents.

"They're dead, Regulus. It's over," Mother said, brushing some of his hairs out of his face. "You're safe. We're all safe."

"Oh, yes. They won't be causing any harm anymore," Father said. "But do you really think it's over, dearest? It is far from over, and we are far from safe."

They packed their things – just the bare essentials they had brought over since last night, and some food – and were on their way by noon. Any and all signs of a wizarding family (specifically which wizarding family) had been erased from the house—especially the crest Regulus had magicked onto the bedroom wall that morning. The Ministry likely already knew who had caused all this to happen but it couldn't hurt to be careful.

Which is why they still avoided going home. Instead they took off into the streets of the Muggle village. Regulus couldn't believe he was actually walking amongst Muggles. Muggle that gave him funny looks, Muggles that seemed to follow them through the streets—or was that just his imagination? He made sure to stay close to Mother and Father just in case. They had wands. Without them, he would be defenseless when the Muggles decided to strike.

Bellatrix led the way, dragging them into a narrow alleyway. She shared a few looks with Mother and Father, then Disapparated. Then Father left as well, and finally he felt himself being squeezed through the narrow tube as Mother Apparated him to another alley.

He followed her out onto the street, joining Father and Bella as they walked on. He vaguely recognised the street, though he wasn't sure why until they reached their destination.

Uncle Alphard's house stood on the far off corner of the street and gathering in front of the door was the most familiar thing he'd done in what felt like forever. When Uncle Alphard opened the door, he could squeal in happiness and nearly jumped on him. But he had to remain calm and collected. Especially now.

"Ah, Walburga, Orion! To what do I owe this visit?" Uncle Alphard greeted them, smiling widely.

"Not now," Mother said harshly. She pushed past Uncle Alphard, who raised his eyebrows but didn't comment. Father pushed him in, following with Bellatrix.

"Close the door," Mother called when everyone was inside.

"What's going on?" Uncle Alphard asked.

But nobody answered. Regulus wanted to explain it to him, if only because nobody else seemed willing, but in all honesty... he wasn't sure where to start.

"You can't just storm in and not let me know a thing," Uncle Alphard said, clearly getting annoyed. "I deserve to know."

Father sighed. "Regulus, go to your room."

"What?!"

"You heard your father. You do still know where it is, right?"

Fine, he thought. So they wanted to send him away. He'd ho away. Of course he still knew where to find his room—he'd been here countless times! Of course, he used to be here with his brother, not without him. Only Sirius went for sleepovers at Uncle Alphard's alone.

But now there he was. Alone. Sirius was at school and he was here, being shut out by adults, having to spend his time in the little guest room that was decorated for a five-year-old when he was ten. He was old enough to know what was going on, but instead he was stuck between these blue walls with their little glistening stars, sitting on the equally blue covers of the bed... they still had the little broomsticks on them that he used to love staring at, they flew across the bed so fast you could easily miss it if you weren't paying attention...

It brought him back, laying there. It was as if he had gone five years into the past, to a time before things started to get bad, a time when everyone was still at home, still happy, still together. And when he closed his eyes, he could almost convince himself that hadn't changed.

Almost.

Because when he closed his eyes, he wasn't given the rest he so desperately needed. He wasn't given the respite he longed for. When he closed his eyes, he heard screaming in the back of his mind. He saw flashes of green and bodies toppling over. He saw his cousin chasing a group of terrified people, taking them out, one at a time. He heard her laugh, he saw her dance, and he was left feeling worse than before.

"Master Regulus?"

He snapped back, turning his head to face the house elf standing by his bed. He was still covered in bandages, some of them bloodied. "Kreacher! How—when did you get here? Are you okay?!"

"Kreacher has to take care of Master Regulus."

"I'm fine! I don't need taking care of! Oh, Kreacher, please... take care of yourself first... why did you for this..."

"Master Regulus wouldn't eat-"

"So you, what? You decide to hurt yourself over it?! It's not worth it. Mother's right, you know. She knows better. It's probably best you just listen to her instead of... whatever this was."

He pulled Kreacher into another hug and the elf held him, hugging back, slowly rocking him from left to right as Regulus took in his scent.

"There's another one!" he heard, clearly, behind him. He let go of Kreacher and spun around, but only the wall could be seen. He took a few steps back and nearly tripped. Kreacher stood over him, there was a jet of red light coming their way. He grabbed the elf and threw him to the floor, rolling over with him, but the light never hit them and he broke down. Again, he broke down, bawling his eyes out.

And Kreacher had disappeared.