"He's here?! How-"

"Bella found him."

"Is he OK, what did they-"

"He is fine, your brother is fine," Lucius said. "In fact, it appears he... volunteered to go."

"No, no that's not right, that's impossible!"

"Impossible? Now, if it is impossible... you would think it strange he was found in the residence of one Edward Tonks, wouldn't you, Regulus?"

"I don't know who that is," he said, crossing his arms as he looked from Lucius to Narcissa. They were playing some kind of game with him, and he wasn't having any of it. Not today. Not now.

Lucius shook his head, clearly amused. "Of course not..."

"Who is he? What did he do to Sirius?"

"Sirius is fine," Narcissa said, glaring at Lucius. "And Edward Tonks isn't important."

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Not important? I wouldn't be too sure of that."

"Who is he?!" If this Edward Tonks stole Sirius, then he'd make him pay. He'd ask for a wand and track the man down, and then he'd regret ever taking his brother away from him—oh yes, vengeance would be sweet...

"Sit down, Regulus—your brother is fine, he's here, he's upstairs—no, you may not see him! He's unharmed, now sit down."

He sat down.

"Edward Tonks," she said, the name coming out like a bad word, "is the Mudblood Andromeda ran off with."

He gulped. Sirius was taken by the man who took Andromeda? Who would that man take next? Him?!

"I need to see Sirius," he said.

"You're not allowed to—no! You have to stay here." She grabbed hold if him as he tried to make a run for it. "Please stay here..."

He struggled against her grip, but it didn't help.

"I can't do this, Lucius," she snapped. "He's ten."

"I'm nearly eleven!" he protested.

"You're just a boy! You're just a boy and there's no need for you to know everything. No—I refuse to tell you any more."

"But he's my brother!"

"I don't care if he's you're brother, Regulus," she said. "You're not supposed to be here. You're supposed to be with Grandmother. I am not afraid to tell on you if you keep this up."

He gritted his teeth, looking to Lucius for support, but he didn't seem all too interested in the conversation anymore; he was staring out of one of the tall windows behind the sofa.

He looked back at Narcissa, who was glaring at him with such intensity he had to look away after a few seconds as it made him very uncomfortable.

"I'm taking you home," said Narcissa, and before he could protest her actions he was squeezed through a narrow tube as they Apparated to the grounds of his grandparents' home. He stumbled a little and fell—his foot was on fire, or felt like it was. He gasped for air, clutching it in a desperate attempt to stop the pain...

The pain only got worse. It was blinding him, and he barely felt Narcissa pulling him onto a stretched she had conjured.

Everything blurred together; the angry shouting of Grandmother Irma as he was brought inside, Narcissa's voice as she tried to reason with her, the rummaging of bottles, the whispering of spells... none of it mattered because of the hot pain coming from his left foot.

The pain disappeared as suddenly as it had come and left him panting on the stretcher.

When he regained control of his breathing and the tears stopped streaming down his face, he was met with a smack to the head. It stung, but the pain was laughable compared to what he had felt moments ago.

"How dare you leave this house after I explicitly forbade you to do so," Grandmother Irma snarled. "Have you no idea how dangerous your actions were?!"

He tried to find Cissy, for guidance, but she was nowhere to be found.

"You could've died!" Grandmother Irma went on, "is that what you wanted? Is it?!"

"N-no..."

"Damn right it isn't—you're not getting away with this. It's dangerous out there, what don't you understand about that?!"

"Sorry..." his head hurt. He just wanted to sleep... why did she have to speak so loudly...

She lifted him off the stretcher and carried him to his bed as she continued her angry rant.

As she put him down, all he could think of was that he needed to tell her about Sirius, she had to tell Mother and Father, he couldn't leave Sirius behind. He just couldn't.

But she wouldn't let him speak. She took the Floo Powder, locked the door on the way out, and left him all alone.

A flash of green woke him up, like it did so many nights.

Nightmare, he told himself. It was just a nightmare. He was at his grandmother's, and he was safe.

It was still dark out, but he couldn't ho back to sleep. It was a nightmare for him, but Sirius... what if he was in a similar situation? He had to help. He had to tell his grandmother Sirius was at the Malfoys—she had to tell Mother and Father. He didn't understand why Narcissa hadn't already.

He waited hours for it to become light out, for the dag to begin. There was a knock on the bedroom door at eight o'clock exactly, and Grandmother came in with a tray filled with French croissants, several types of cheese, jam, and a glass of pumpkin juice.

"Did you sleep all right? How's your foot?" she asked as she put the tray down on the bed.

"It's fine, I'm fine—you have to get Mother and Father-"

"I'm glad to hear you're all right. Now, I must go out for the rest of the day, will you be okay? There's bound to be some interesting books in there," she said, pointing towards the bookcase, "but I can bring in some more if you like."

"Where are you going?"

"That's none of your concern, is it? Be good today," she said, and she left the room, locking it once more.

He spent the whole day locked in. The door refused to open no matter how hard he tried, the window was locked as well, and so was the door in the adjacent bathroom.

And the day after that was the same. She brought him food and drinks, asked him how he was doing, then left. And there was no way out. It was as if he was being held captive, and he wondered if that's what happened to Sirius, too. He wondered if his brother felt as helpless as he did.

The next day was more of the same, as was the day after that, and the day after that... the days blurred together and he couldn't ignore the growing worry angry longer. He had no idea how long he had spent in that bedroom, utterly bored and even resorting to reading the books in the bookcase twice, some even three times. They were simple books, children's fiction, books Grandmother Irma had bought for him and Sirius when they were far younger.

Even Kreacher didn't come when summoned. Had Sirius tried that, too? He really hoped his brother was OK. He didn't like the way the adults were behaving.

He missed Sirius. He missed home. He missed his parents. He missed-

Tap. Tap.

There was an owl at the window.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, "I can't let you in. It's locked."

Tap. Tap.

"I said, I'm sorry! It's locked!" he pulled at the handle to demonstrate this to the bird, but to his surprise, it opened.

The owl flew into the bedroom and landed at the foot of his bed.

"What do you have for me?" he asked, cautiously approaching it. "A letter? Is it—oh."

It was just his Hogwarts letter. In any other circumstances, he'd be thrilled to have it. Now, he wished it hadn't come. He wished that instead, it was his brother telling him he was safe, he was home, that nothing bad had happened.

He fed the bird some crumbs from breakfast and took the letter.

Dear Mr Black,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

OK, he had to admit some excitement was creeping in. This was it. He was going. He was actually going. He rushed to the still-locked bedroom door and banged on it. "Grandmother! Grandmother you'll never believe what came for me just now! Grandmother Irma!"

The door opened and he stumbled forwards, into his grandmother. He took a step back. "I've got my letter!"

She beamed. "Oh, Regulus! Let's grab some butterbeer at the Leaky Cauldron, how about that? Or some ice cream?"

He took another step back. Butterbeer? Ice cream? "I want Sirius."

Her smile faded. "I'm afraid I'm not able-"

"I don't care! I want my brother here with me."

"I'm sorry, dear. But it's really not up to me."

"Whom is it up to, then?"

"Freshen up. We'll leave for Diagon Alley in ten minutes."

"Fine..."

She shut the door behind him and he got changed. At least he'd be going out for the first time in what? two weeks? maybe even longer. That was something to look forward to. It ought to be, at least. So why didn't he look forward to it?

They arrived at the Leaky Cauldron not much later, and after Regulus declined butterbeer once more (he wasn't in the mood, without Sirius there), they entered Diagon Alley.

"Let's stop by Gringotts first," Grandmother Irma said as she grabbed his hand, "then we'll get your things."

Right. They had shopping to do. Books, potions ingredients, robes... and his wand.

They went through Gringott's silver doors and stepped into a marble room. Regulus immediately spotted Evan Rosier and his parents. He waved at him, trying to get him attention without being too loud as Grandmother Irma led him through the hall.

He wondered what Hogwarts would be like. There'd be other boys his age, and he'd never been around those before. And there'd be girls. All he knew was that it would be very different to what he was used to.

Maybe that was for the better.

A goblin hurried over to them. "This way please!"

He led them out of the hall, through a set of doors, towards a cart. He hadn't really ever been to Gringotts before. He had no business being here, as a child—grownups did things revolving around money.

They climbed into the cart. It raced along the track, coming to a screeching halt by his grandmother's vault.

She filled up a pouch with gold and silver and handed it to Regulus. The coins rattled the entire way back and when they got out, he had never been more glad to feel the ground beneath his feet.

"Are we getting my wand now?" he asked as they left the bank.

"No, we're getting your robes first. Then we'll pick up your books-"

"Can't you get them for me? Please?"

She pursed her lips, gave it a thought, and nodded. "Very well. You head over to Madam Malkin's, I'll pick up your books. List?"

He handed her the letter that had his supply list and she was off. He made his way over to the robes shop himself.

There was another boy in there already, a chubby boy with mousy brown hair who was nearly finished being fitted. He was put on a different footstool to get his measurements taken.

The boy seemed to be alone as well. Regulus didn't recognise him, however, and felt awkward staring at him. It was too late to look away now, however—the boy had already noticed him.

"Hello there!"

Regulus gave him a quick nod.

"Are you going to Hogwarts too?"

Again, Regulus nodded.

"Great! I can't wait, can you? My Dad's been telling me all about it, how about you?"

He hummed.

"It's exciting, isn't it? When did you find out you're a wizard? My Dad told me a few years ago after I-"

"I have always known," he said, cutting him off.

"Oh, but that's interesting! I've never-"

"Can you shut up?!" he snapped, not wanting to talk to the boy any longer. Not only was he the wrong sort of wizard, but he had more important things to worry about. Sirius, for example. He was here for robes, not chitchat.

The boy next to him was finished being fitted and gave a small last wave at Regulus. "Er—see you at Hogwarts!"

Regulus ignored him and the boy left the shop. Not telling your child he's a wizard, ha! What a joke. That meant the boy was a halfblood at least. Merlin's beard, he had been talking to a halfblood. The very thought made him sick. He hadn't even thought about that—he'd be stuck amongst halfbloods and... and... and worse when he was at Hogwarts!

The world was spinning before him as Madam Malkin fitted his robes. Was she pureblood? Please, let her be pureblood...

He wasn't all that sure if he wanted to go to school any more.

The bell rang and Grandmother Irma returned. Finally, a familiar face. She carried a large bag filled with the books he'd need that year, paid for his robes once he was finished being fitted, bought some dragonhide gloves, a winter cloak and his pointy hat.

"There you go, all set," she said as they left the shop, and she patted him on the back. "What's wrong? You're all pale."

"I don't want to go to Hogwarts." He was still a bit shaken by the encounter with the boy, and it had left a sour taste in his mouth.

"Why not?"

"There's... there'll be halfbloods and—Mudbloods and stuff and I just..."

She sat him down on a chair belonging to a cafe. "It's going to be all right," she told him, though he didn't believe one word of it. "You will meet some different people, yes, that's a given. But you'll be able to make friends, too. There are plenty of purebloods at Hogwarts."

"But there's too many of the other sort!"

She sighed. "How about we finish getting your supplies, and then we'll find out a way to deal with this, OK?"

He nodded. They wouldn't find a way out, but even with homeschooling he'd need supplies.

So they were on their way again, across the street, into Potage's Cauldron Shop; a dimly lit, musty smelling tiny shop filled to the brim with all sorts of cauldrons. There was another family in, and it made the shop overly crowded, so Grandmother sent Regulus outside to wait as she got him his Pewter Size 2.

She came outside after only several minutes. "Muggles," she said, shaking her head in amusement. "Oh no, what's this, and what's that? What's it in 'real money'?" she imitated them. "Clueless, honestly."

"There's Muggles in there?"

"Oh yes. Unfortunately. Don't worry, at least those stay out of Hogwarts."

That only slightly helped ease his worries.

"Can I get my wand now?"

"Save the best for last, Regulus. We still need your other supplies."

"You can get them. I'll get my wand."

"No. Come on."

She pulled him into Wiseacre's, a huge shop which advertised itself as having everything wizards would have a need for, and that didn't seem to be much of a lie. There were moon globes, wizarding maps, moon and star charts, telescopes and binoculars, but also silver and brass scales, magnifying glasses, phials, compasses and crystal balls... and he was sure that was only the beginning of what the shop had to offer.

Armed with all supplies he needed, he once again asked his grandmother about his wand, knowing she couldn't keep postponing it.

And right he was. He was beaming all the way until Ollivander's... if only he could get his hands on a wand, then all of these troubles would be over. He could get Sirius back—he was sure of it.

A bell rang somewhere in the distance when he entered the tiny shop. Why did all shops have to be so cramped? At least this time he was the only customer. In fact, they were the only people in here—it was completely deserted.

He took a seat on the spindly chair and looked to his grandmother, but she was staring at the boxes of wands stacked neatly against the walls, up to the ceiling.

"Good afternoon."

The soft voice startled Regulus and he jumped from the chair. The voice belonged to an older man who stood in front of both of them.

"Good afternoon," Grandmother said.

Regulus waved awkwardly. "Hello."

The man pulled Regulus over to the corner and examined him in the light from outside. "Which is your wand arm?"

Regulus held his right arm out for him.

The wandmaker measured him from his shoulder to his finger, from his wrist to his elbow, from his shoulder all the way down to the floor.

"None if this is necessary, Mr. Ollivander," Grandmother Irma said as the man had started to measure around his head, "we'll have a look at your elm wands."

"Irma Crabbe," Ollivander said, turning around to face her while the tape measured his knees all on its own.

"Black," she corrected.

"Ah, yes... Sycamore, ten inches, supple, was it not?"

"It was, though I helped myself to another after it burst to flames the other day."

"You let it get bored, didn't I warn you-"

"What do you expect? People grow up, Mr. Ollivander. I cannot afford to be who I once was."

"Such a pity, such a pity indeed... and your new wand? Not one of mine, was it?"

Regulus barely noticed the tape measuring between his nostrils as he watched Grandmother Irma and Mr. Ollivander in curiosity.

"Oh no. I'd had enough of your foolishness, Mr. Ollivander. My new elm hasn't failed me yet, unlike yours."

"And yet you take your grandson to see me..." he turned his attention to the tape, telling it to stop. At once, the tape fell down on the floor.

Mr. Ollivander walked over to the shelves, taking down several boxes. "Right then, Mr Black," he said, opening the first box and handing him the wand. "Try this one. Maple with a dragon heartstring, nine inches. Supple. Go on, give it a wave."

Regulus eyed his grandmother who had a disapproving look on her face. He concluded she probably didn't like the wand wasn't elm.

He gave the wand a wave, but nothing happened. It might as well have been any other stick. Mr. Ollivander took it back, putting it away. He took out another. "Blackthorn, unicorn hair. Nine inches. Swishy. Try-"

"I really must insist," Grandmother said. "I think elm is best suited for the boy."

"The wand chooses the wizard, Mrs. Black."

"The wand can't choose the wizard if you don't let it," she argued. "Give him elm."

Mr. Ollivander turned back to the shelves and pulled out another box, handing the wand to Regulus. "Elm. Unicorn hair. Ten inches. Unyielding."

Regulus really wanted something to happen. He desperately wanted this to be his wand, if only so his grandmother would shut up. But as with the Maple, nothing happened.

"Give him another," said Grandmother Irma. "We're not leaving without a wand."

Mr. Ollivander reluctantly took out more elm wands, but they did nothing for him. He was starting to feel embarrassed as the boxes started to pile up, with none of them a clear fit.

"Give the boy a good wand, unless you're telling me he's a Squib," his grandmother said after what felt like hours of trying on wands.

A strange twinkle appeared in Mr. Ollivander's moon-like eyes, and he took out yet another wand, handing it to Regulus.

The moment he touched the wand, he knew it was right. There was a warmth coming from the wand, soaring through his fingertips all the way up to his shoulder. He gave it a wave, sparks flowing from the tip, bouncing off the walls of the small shop.

"Bravo!" Cried Mr. Ollivander. "Yes, yes, I thought as much!"

Regulus looked at his grandmother, who smiled slightly. "Well done, Regulus. What wand is it? I'd like to pay."

"Cedar wood with a phoenix feather, ten inches, brittle," said Ollivander with a triumphant smile. "You take care of that wand, Mr Black, and it will take care of you in return."

"Don't get too attached to that wand of yours," Grandmother Irma said at supper that evening. "It may just go up in flames one day."

"Did yours really?"

"Do you think I'm making it all up? Of course it did. Last December, out of nowhere—I summoned my slippers and up in flames it went."

"Wow," he mumbled, and he looked back at his own wand which lay next to his plate. He moved it a few inches farther away.

The rest of the meal was spent in silence, and he wondered how long it would take for his wand to turn to ashes. A week? A month, maybe? Ollivander said she leg it grow bored... what could be more boring than being trapped in a cottage with Grandmother Irma, unable to do any magic?

She collected the empty plates with her wand when they were done eating.

"When is Grandfather coming back?" he asked.

"Not until after your birthday, dear. I'm sorry," she said as she sent the dishes flying towards the kitchen.

"What's he doing, anyway?"

"Something to do with dragons. I'm really not too sure. He's in Romania for it."

"Oh."

The short silence that followed was uncomfortable, and Regulus didn't know where to look or keep his hands. But what he asked next only made matters worse. And yet, he had to try.

"May I see Sirius? Please?"

"Regulus..."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. But he's my brother."

"We all make sacrifices," she said matter-of-factly.

"What do you mean?"

"Sometimes our siblings go astray and the best way to help them is by not interacting for a while."

"That doesn't make any sense."

She smiled, but it didn't make him feel any better. "Sirius is fine. Don't worry."

"So why can't I see him?" he protested. If he was fine, then he could see him. She couldn't even explain why he shouldn't!

She sighed. "Your parents think it's better that way."

"I don't care!"

He held his breath—he hadn't meant to say that. He did care, he just... really didn't right now. Not when it came to this.

"Where are they?" he asked quietly.

"You really shouldn't ask so many questions, dear."

"Why not?!"

"Because you're not ready for the answers."