The fields on the other side of the window flew past him as the train raced over its tracks. Two hours he'd sat there, still, in silence and he had many more to go before they reached Hogwarts. He hadn't looked up when Narcissa joined him, nor when the trolley lady asked if they wanted anything; not even when Narcissa offered him some pumpkin pasties and even the liquorice wands she had bought off the trolley. He didn't even bother to tell her he wasn't interested in sweets now of all moments.

He was on his way back to where he desperately hoped Sirius had spent his Easter; if he hadn't, Sirius would be on this train right now, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was. That Sirius was a few compartments over, chatting away with some other Gryffindors about his Easter holidays and that stupid baby Metamorphmagus he'd seen. Yes, Metamorphmagi were exciting, but not halfblood ones—if they even were real at all. It was likely a trick played by Andromeda and her Mudblood to lure in Sirius so they could do – things – to him. What things he didn't know, but it wouldn't be the first time that Mudblood abducted Sirius.

"... Regulus!"

"What?!" he snapped.

Narcissa shook her head. "Where were you?"

"Right here."

"I mean with your head—what are you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

"It's him, isn't it?"

He didn't answer. He just stared out of the window again. He'd let her talk, let her guess, let her do whatever it was she wanted to. He was not in the mood for this.

"You were thinking about Sirius."

He still didn't answer, not that it had really been a question, judging her tone. It was a statement, as if she knew. But she had no idea what he had been thinking about, she had no idea what he was going through, the uncertainty of the situation, the overwhelming guilt he felt on occasion—what if Sirius had stayed at Hogwarts, yet got into trouble for what was written in that letter? It was gnawing at him. And yet, he knew he'd done the right thing, because if Sirius did visit them...

"Where was he this Easter?"

"Lucius?" he spat. If she didn't stop pestering him, then he had the right to do the same to her.

She frowned. "What?"

"He's the one who left. Well, he and Bella and-"

She hushed him. "It's not important."

"Isn't it?"

"No."

"Then I won't tell either."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not being ridiculous, you are! Lucius and the others leaving so suddenly—that's what's suspicious. Sirius not coming home is normal. He hasn't come home since that first Christmas if he can opt to stay at Hogwarts. You know that."

"He wasn't at Bella's wedding either," she mused.

"Well, Merlin's shabby trousers, who'd have thought!" He rolled his eyes. "He's clearly not interested in being part of this family."

She pursed her lips. "Then save yourself the pain of losing a close friend as well as a brother and leave him be."

"What do you mean, leave him be? I am leaving him be!"

"You're not—you know you're not; don't even bother pretending."

He stared back out of the window, refusing to say anything else. She just didn't understand.

They sat in silence the rest of the train ride to Hogwarts, and he didn't look at her again.

When the voice sounded and told them they'd be at Hogwarts soon, he threw on his cloak and gathered his belongings, leaving the compartment. Narcissa didn't try to stop him or talk to him, yet he kept glancing over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't near her.

He jumped off the train when it came to a halt and the doors opened, and sped towards the carriages alongside the others. He climbed in one that already had four girls in it. That way the carriage was full and she wouldn't be able to join.

He sat there, looking around as the other carriages filled up—where was Narcissa? And more importantly: could he see if Sirius was anywhere?

He didn't get very long to search. One of the girls had patted his shoulder and he looked up in confusion at her wide grin.

"Hello," she greeted him.

"Er, hi."

He looked at the other girls and recognised the bull faced one instantly and his heart sank: these were the girls Cissy had warned him about.

"I'm Emily and that's Morgan," the girl who had poked him said, still smiling. "And that's Ellanora and-"

"I know who you are," he cut her off.

"He knows who we are!" Emily hissed at the others.

"Shh—he's right there, you know!" Bulstrode said.

"I know! Isn't it exciting?!"

He rolled his eyes. At least it was only for the short ride to the castle, because compared to this, the Peasegoods seemed good company.

They reached the castle a couple of minutes later and Regulus wasted no time to get lff the carriage and into the castle. The girls, however, hurried after him as if they were seekers in a game of Quidditch. He followed the flow of students into the Great Hall, and to his relief, spotted the twins sitting near the door.

He raced towards them and sat down next to Catharina.

"Regulus!" She flung her arms around him, causing him to stiffen. "What do you want?!"

He pulled away, shocked by her sudden change in tone. "What?"

"Not you," she said. "You."

He looked over his shoulder to see whom she was pointing at: one of the girls from the carriage had followed him to the table and now awkwardly swayed from one foot to the other.

The girl huffed. "Me?!"

"Yes, you! Don't just stand there—what do you want from us?"

"I don't want anything, and definitely not from you," she scoffed.

"Then what are you standing there for?"

"As if I need to tell you that!"

Catharina sprang to her feet, causing the girl to snigger and Arnold to pull her back down. "She's not worth it," he said.

"I can't just let her ruin things!"

"She'll stop if you ignore her—see? She's already gone."

Regulus looked back and she indeed had left, probably to join the other girls somewhere else. "Who was that?"

"Ellanora Ellerby, the most annoying girl you'll ever meet."

"By far," Arnold added.

Catharina nodded. "You best stay away from her and her clique. They're always up to no good."

"I shared a carriage with them on the way back."

"I thought you always sat with your cousin?" asked Arnold.

"She's stupid."

"What's she done now?"

He hesitated. "She was annoying, at Easter."

Before the twins could ask any more questions, the food appeared and they lost themselves to the rich feast.

The following morning, Regulus was the first to get to the Great Hall out of the entire school—aside from Professor Sprout, the Head of Hufflepuff House, who was making her way over to the Head Table when he came in.

"Good morning dear, you're early," she said when she saw him. "I'm afraid there's no food yet."

"That's okay." He sat down at the Slytherin table, as close to the entrance as he possibly could. He was on a mission today: catch Sirius, and ask about the holidays. He had to get straight to the source, especially since he hadn't seen his brother at supper last night.

He waited ten minutes, twenty minutes, nearly thirty minutes before the food appeared on the table and he filled his plate with some toast.

Ten more minutes passed, and another ten. He had finished eating now, and the first students started dripping in. A couple of Hufflepuffs, a Ravenclaw prefect, some Seventh Years...

Then, finally, a familiar face.

Sirius and Potter came into the Great Hall, whispering to each others, but he caught snippets of their conversation. Something about a full moon and them having to 'sort it out'.

He jumped to his feet. "Sirius!" he called, running up to his side.

"Get out of the way."

Sirius tried to walk past him, but Regulus didn't let him, stepping in front of him once more. "Sirius, we need to talk."

"I don't want to talk to you," he said, pushing him aside.

"I know about Andromeda!"

Sirius spun around. "I know you do, you stupid knob! You think I don't know how they figured it out, do you?!"

"Mate-" Potter reached out a hand to Sirius, who slapped it away.

"Not now, James," he said, still looking at Regulus. "The question is where you got that information from."

Was he to tell? Sirius was angry enough as it was, and he was sure they were causing a scene—he could feel their eyes burning in his neck and didn't have to look around to know the whole Great Hall was staring at them. Again. If he said something, would they all jump him again, as they had last September?

"I asked you something. How do you know?"

"You dropped it," he said, choosing careful honesty. "Before the holidays, you-"

"Dropped what?!"

"The letter!"

"I did not drop a letter! I'm no fool, Reg. Tell me the truth."

"But I am telling you the truth! You dropped it, I wanted to give it back-"

"After you had a nice read, eh? Snooping around, telling Mother and Father all about it? Are you trying to ruin my life on purpose or does it just come naturally to you?"

"I'm not trying to ruin your life, I'm trying to help!"

Sirius let out a sour laugh. "Spare me. I don't need your help. I can look out for myself."

"Fine," he said, "Do it yourself, then."

"Oh, I would if you kept out of my business for once!"

"I'll leave you alone if that's what you want."

"That's exactly what I want," said Sirius coolly.

"Just—GO!" He balled his fists to stop himself from yelling at him, painfully aware that the whispers around him were about them. He refused to be the source of entertainment for much longer.

"You're the one who came up to me."

Sirius pulled on Potter's robes and dragged him off to the Gryffindor table; Regulus turned around and stormed out of the Great Hall. They didn't see each other again that day, nor the day after or the day after that. Hogwarts was settling back into the routine he'd got so used to over the months and with the added homework he barely noticed he and Sirius saw even less of each other than before.

He had other things on his mind and other people claiming his time: the Peasegoods claimed most of it in class and out. He didn't mind, for in Herbology they helped him care for his plants—ones had the nasty tendency to not cooperate with anything you tried to do. Watering them? They'd just run off, or suddenly repel water, or try to eat your hand if you got too close... repotting them was impossible, but with the help of the Peasegoods (who were exceptionally good at Herbology) he scraped by.

It was this way for most of his classes with the only exceptions being Defence Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration where Avery claimed him instead. He let it happen when there were no matches around—if there were, he didn't go within five feet of the boy. Just in case.

So he sat next to him as they listened to McGonagall's lectures on Transfiguration theory and practised turning mice into snuffboxes—something Avery was far better at than he was, though he mocked him far less since the fire incident and mostly left him be in their free time.

On one Thursday in early May, professor Blackthorn lectured them some more on Polyjuice Potion (his favourite topic, if going by the amount of times he mentioned it in class). They went over its properties and how to determine if the person you're face-to-face with is indeed who they say they are, or a Death Eater in disguise. As it turned out, the best way was to have a security system in place with personalised questions, and he joyfully ended his lesson by announcing that this was something they were going to practise the following week.

"Practise?" Regulus muttered under his breath in surprise. Surely they weren't supposed to take the potion, or ask each other personal questions, were they?

"It means doing something to get better at it," said Avery.

"I know what practise means!"

Avery shrugged. "Just trying to help."

"Sure."

He followed the other students towards Charms where he sat down next to Arnold, but couldn't focus on what Briseis was telling them about. He kept thinking back to those security questions Blackthorn had mentioned. What kind of security questions were they? How personal would they have to be?

At lunch, he retreated to the library and in the afternoon he did the same. Friday, Saturday, Sunday—he spent all weekend reading up on the topic and he even sent an owl to Bella to ask if she had any idea what may help.

He was back in the library on Monday, though he was joined by the Peasegoods that time.

"You've just been here an awful lot lately," Catharina explained when he asked her why they had come. "We wanted to make sure you're all right."

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Not stressed about the exams?"

He looked up from the Potions book he was reading from. "What exams?"

Arnold frowned. "The ones we have in a few weeks... why else are you in here all day?"

Oh. Those exams. He hadn't exactly forgotten – he still kept up with his studying – but they weren't the most important thing on his mind right now. Not with the invasive lesson they had planned for that Thursday.

"Are you quite all right?" asked Catharina.

He hummed and looked back at his potions book. "Just studying. For those exams. Which is easier to do alone."

"Come on! We want to help."

"You'd help by leaving."

To his great surprise, the twins actually left and he could focus on the textbook once more. Apparently, Polyjuice was a difficult potion, and it wasn't very tasteful either—although the taste depended on the person you're turning into. But there was nothing about questions, or how to figure out if someone was truly who he said he was. It had been written in different, more peaceful times.

Sunday passed and Monday came, and still he was unprepared. Tuesday brought him a letter from Bellatrix, but she only wished him good luck and had no other tips or tricks he could pull. Wednesday he could barely focus in class because tomorrow would be the day, Thursday they would have Defence Against the Dark Arts and it would be a living hell.

He barely slept that night and woke up on Thursday feeling sick. Maybe it was best if he just didn't go. It wasn't the best option, running away from his worries and skipping school, but at least he wouldn't have to practise with personalised questions. He already knew Avery would want to pair up with him – it was Defence Against the Dark arts after all, and Avery surely would not pass an opportunity to tease him – and he just couldn't handle that.

But even so, he couldn't just stay in his dorm. He made his way to the Great Hall and forced himself to eat some breakfast.

He barely looked up when he saw a flash of blonde hair next to him as Narcissa sat down. He was still mad at her, no matter how often she went near.

"Regulus? Are you feeling well?"

"I feel fine," he said, hoping she'd shut up. She was stupid. He didn't want her concerned attitude.

"Are you sure? You're sickly pale."

"I'm fine."

"I think it's best you go to the hospital wing. Just to be sure."

He rolled his eyes and was about to argue with her further, but stopped mid-thought—that was it! His way out of the class was by being sick!

"Maybe you're right," he said, trying to sound even more ill than he felt.

"I'll walk you there."

"No, no—I'll be fine, I know the way."

He stood up and staggered towards the Entrance Hall, leaving everyone behind and hurrying to the hospital wing.

"I don't feel so well," he told Madam Pomfrey when she asked him what he was doing there.

"Is that so?" She looked him up and down. "I don't see anything wrong."

"I'm ill," he stressed.

"With what?"

"Er..."

She pursed her lips. "What are your symptoms?"

"My what?"

"Your symptoms. Why do you think you're ill?"

"I'm, er... tummy ache." It was the first thing he could think of, and it wasn't even a completely lie; his stomach had been upset all week, but he knew it was nothing more than the anxiety he felt for his Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons. Oh, he should've waited to go to the hospital wing until after breakfast had ended. He was so stupid!

Madam Pomfrey raised her eyebrows. "A stomach ache? Well that's easy to fix."

He groaned and sat down on one of the beds. Of course it was easy to fix, she was a skilled Healer! In fact, it was likely she was the most skilled person in all of Hogwarts, and he came up with a stomach ache excuse?!

"I also have a headache!" he blurted out.

She raised her eyebrows further.

"And—and my throat hurts! And my little toe. Er... actually, everything hurts."

"Everything?"

He nodded solemnly, and an idea hit him. "I think it's the burns. It started in my legs."

Her face turned sympathetic at once and she told him to lie down and get some rest as she looked into what the problem might be, for she wasn't experienced enough in this area yet. He followed her instructions and lay in the bed trying his best to hide his smug smile.

He counted the seconds, now and then stealing a glance at the large clock that hung over the double doors. Breakfast had nearly ended, and the first class of the day was Defence Against the Dark Arts, so he was only minutes away from missing school.

His insides tingled at the thought of him getting out of school by a lie of his own making, one that even made Pomfrey feel bad for him, one that no-one could disprove in any way. A lie that would even trick the strictest of teachers—yes, even McGonagall would fall for it. He was simply that good.

Seconds trickled by and became minutes and soon enough he heard the bell signalling classes were about to start, and his smile only widened. Pomfrey was still nowhere to be seen and the rest of the hospital wing was deserted. He sat up in the bed and let out a sigh of relief. No invasive questions for him. No Avery probing him, teasing him. No Peasegoods with their feigned concern and most annoying supportive comments. No nothing.

The minutes turned to hours and Pomfrey didn't return until well after lunchtime, shaking her head apologetically and saying she had no idea that much time had passed—she had spoken to some of the healers at St. Mungo's about his case and the curious return of pain not just to his legs but throughout his body and simply lost track of time.

"It's all right," he said. "It happens."

"Don't be smart with me now. Here, have something for the pain. Have you eaten?"

He shook his head and took the potion she handed him.

"I'll get you some porridge, it'll strengthen you."

Was it harmful to drink a potion intended for something he did not have? Perhaps it hadn't been a good idea after all. With no other option but to drink to potion (to maintain his cover), he drank and hoped for the best.

He spent the rest of the day in the hospital wing on his own, until the Peasegoods visited him after supper.

"We heard you were in here," Catharina explained. "Your cousin told us."

"The blonde one," Arnold added.

Catharina nudged her brother. "Well, of course the blonde one!"

"Could've been the creepy one, all I'm saying!" Arnold answered, holding up his hands in defence.

"Fine, OK, Narcissa said I was in here," Regulus interrupted their bickering. "So what?"

"So we came to see you, of course!"

Of course. "I'm tired."

"We can come back in the morning if you like?" Catharina offered.

He nodded. "That's probably best. I should rest some more."

He closed his eyes and waited for the footsteps to disappear into the distance before he opened them again. He'd miss school tomorrow as well, but then it was the weekend which gave him enough time to fake his recovery. Two days wasn't a whole lot compared to what he'd missed earlier in the year, and he still managed to catch up after that. He'd be fine.

The Peasegoods kept their promise and showed up first thing in the morning, so he pretended to still be asleep and waited until he was sure Pomfrey had sent them away and closed the doors before 'waking up'.

"How do you feel?" was Pomfrey's first question.

"A bit better than yesterday. I still hurt though."

"Where does it hurt, precisely?"

He moved his hands vaguely over his legs and stomach. "All over."

"And your headache?"

"Mostly gone."

Her verdict was more rest, so he rested—he played his part well enough for Pomfrey to allow him some bread alongwith his porridge that evening, and even asked if he wanted pudding.

On Saturday he said only his legs hurt, nothing more. That he was healing well and, though he had no idea what caused the sudden fare, the resting was helping.

Pomfrey said she was happy for him and even let him have visitors.

The Peasegoods saw him first, and interrogated him some more on how he was feeling. Next up was Avery, who expressed his disappointment with Regulus' absence in class—especially that Thursday.

"You'd have sent me here if we paired up anyway," Regulus said, silencing Avery.

"It was an accident."

"Was it? I'm in here because of it even now! The burning returned—it's all your fault."

"I said I was sorry."

"It's not enough."

And that was the last he saw of Avery that day. Avery ran off without another word.

On Sunday he was visited by Narcissa, who invited him to her birthday celebrations coming Thursday. That same afternoon he was dismissed after he told Pomfrey his legs no longer stung.

He went through the rest of Sunday, and all four days of classes that followed, being avoided by Avery. He couldn't get as much as a word out of him. Not even a 'hello'.

Regulus didn't feel guilty about what he'd said. Avery was an annoying prick and it served him right to be put in his place, and he had nothing else to say to the boy that would've had the same effect. Either way, a life with less Avery was a better life, even if that meant a life with more of the Peasegoods.

It's a good thing Narcissa didn't invite them. That was the thought that kept circling his mind as he paced up and down the Entrance Hall that 17th of May, 1973. The rest of the school was at supper in the Great Hall and the chattering and clattering was clearly audible through the wooden doors.

Someone she did invite was Sirius, who came from the Great Hall with exactly one minute to spare before the deadline Narcissa had given them. Sirius didn't look directly at him and he didn't directly look at Sirius either. He had done nothing wrong. He was only trying to protect him as good brothers ought to do. Sirius was the one who had to apologise.

Narcissa showed up after a minute of uncomfortable silence.

"So where are we going?" Sirius asked the second she set foot into the Entrance Hall.

"That's a surprise," she said, smiling. "But I'll give you a hint: it involves a secret passage."

He gave her a meaningful look. Was this her way of apologising for what happened on the train? For her probing and her pressing

"We never did go back there," he said.

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked, but Narcissa sighed.

"I know. I'm sorry. Things changed so quickly after that time... how about you and I go back there this summer?"

"Back where?" Sirius pressed.

"You didn't believe me when I told you, so you can't come," he said, still not looking at him. That wasn't the only reason he didn't want his brother along, but it was something he was still upset about—had it been the first sign Sirius couldn't be trusted? No! He shouldn't be thinking that way.

Narcissa led them to the fourth floor, to a deserted corridor, and came to an abrupt halt in front of a very large mirror.

Sirius laughed. "Cissy, I get the impulse – I'm no stranger to vanity myself – but surely there are better moments to look for spots than when we're looking for a secret passageway?"

"Oh, shut up," she said. She moved her hand along the left side of the mirror and after a few tries, it opened the same way a door would and it revealed a dark corridor that seemed to stretch out for miles. It reminded him strongly of the corridor he had entered all those years ago, that had led them to the burial chamber. Would this lead to a similar place? Had Hogwarts its own burial chamber? Was that where the bodies of the ghosts were kept?

He shuddered at the thought of having to see Binns' decomposed body, or the Bloody Baron's bloody remains, or Nearly Headless Nick's nearly headless neck. It was the kind of birthday celebrations he expected of Bellatrix, perhaps, but not Narcissa. Were the girls more alike than he had thought after all?

"Whereto now? You promised a feast," Sirius complained after they had stepped into the corridor and closed the entrance behind them.

"And you'll get one! Patience is a virtue," she said and she walked onwards, disappearing into the darkness.

Regulus stepped in the same direction as she had, putting one foot in front of the other and finding a way through the pitch-black darkness that lay in front of him. It surrounded them on all sides and he was certain he would get lost if the soft tapping of Narcissa and Sirius' feet to the concrete ever died out. It was simply too dark, and the corridor – the tunnel – too long.