Chapter 1 - Acceptance.
"Young Master! Oh, Mistress will be so distressed! Kreacher should tell her, yes, Kreacher should. Young Master Regulus' health is a matter of great concern. Oh, what can poor Kreacher do? The Gryffindor traitor forbids Kreacher."
I slowly wake up to my house elf's bullfrog-like voice muttering next to my ear. Charming. As much as I love Kreacher, I would rather not feel like a six-year-old with the need of an elf to monitor their sleep and health. It is not becoming of an heir, Mother would say. Then again, Mother tends to say many things. Oh, she has opinions about everything, including her dearest Dark Lord; may he rot in the darkest pits of Azkaban, I muse, with my eyes still closed as Kreacher continues to mutter under his breath. Much as I hate to distress my most faithful companion, the shock of it is too much, even for me, unbecoming as my parents might consider it. Time Travel.
A foolish notion to entertain, I would have said a few days ago; but again, a few months ago, no scant days ago, I was faithful to the Dark Lord. Doubting him, yes, but had I thought of causing the lying piece of scum any harm before he hurt Kreacher? Before I saw the extent of his evil? No.
I had been looking into him, trying to be a Slytherin the way Bella would have described us as "cold-blooded, ambitious, powerful and pure." Toujours Pur. Had I ever seen my house that way? Ambitious, yes. Always. The entire reason I joined the Dark Lord was that my family wanted it, but there was a part of me that hoped to learn and grow, maybe bring back the dwindling name of The House of Black. Ambition to learn, to raise the name of my family. To grow, and to show the world the true might of a traditional wizard. One who understands our culture and history.
No wonder that the Hat had considered me for Ravenclaw before announcing me as a member of the Slytherin House. I always thought of us as ambitious and powerful but good. Great Masters. Grand. Virtuous and old, and less brawny than the lions. Able to wield the intellect of a Ravenclaw without having to use as much wit or having to put in the hard work of a Badger. Cunning, sly and even manipulative at times. Professor Slughorn always seemed to me to be more of a Slytherin than those in my generation. How had I gone so far from my own thoughts?
If this can happen; if a Black, known to be stubborn as we are, can fall short of his own ideals; if a loyal Death Eater can turn against the supposed Heir of Slytherin -I will be subject to the fires of Hell before I treat any word out of that evil man's mouth as truth again-; or go so far as to sacrifice themselves for a good cause like a bleeding heart Hufflepuff, or heaven forbid Gryffindor, then can one not travel in time? Something, that has already been perfected to an extent. Granted, that extent is five hours and one does not certainly wake up in his younger body as I seem to have.
My thoughts come to an abrupt halt as a hand runs gently over my head. I haven't had someone treat me with gentleness in so long that I am at a loss. An Heir of a Most Ancient and Noble House has no place left for things like affection to affect him. My parents lived by this rule, so after Sirius left home a few years ago, none in the house showed me any affection, other than Kreacher. It is a strange feeling, I decide as my eyes moisten.
"Reggie," my brother's voice is soft, and for a moment I can almost pretend we are ten and nine-year-old again and that I have gone to seek comfort after a nightmare.
Between my smaller feeling body, Kreacher's exclamations of "Gryffindor scum" which he hasn't called Sirius for years; having exchanged it for blood traitor scum; and my brother's concern which I haven't been privy to for years, I can't say this is a dream. It is too real and vivid even with my eyes closed. I know that once my eyes open, I will face the green walls of my pre-Hogwarts room, the room filled with Slytherin banners but no pictures of me as the team seeker or any of my yearbooks, nor the rolls of scented parchment I began to prefer to use for my Hogwarts' summer work. None of The Daily Prophet's cut outs I started to collect once the Dark Lord began gaining extreme political power in my fourth year would be anywhere to be seen. Things which are the past to me are now my future. Sirius' future. Kreacher's future, I think with dread, remembering how he had almost died. Had I not told him to return! The future of our family, following a madman; my mother destined to lose both her sons; my father left with none but a prejudiced woman, crazy and in awe of someone so filled with the filth of evil that it is beneath Blacks to even walk on the same stones as him.
While I still doubt Dumbledore, and feel that muggle-borns and half-blood need more help and introduction to fit in out society properly instead of going on tangents about things they perceive as wrong without knowing the History, tradition and reasons behind it, I can't support a man who would perform such despicable actions to secure "immortality", who would kill creatures who have done him no harm, who are valuable and loyal members of our society. Nor can I work in his ranks which turned me into a murderer instead of someone working for the betterment of our society, as I can see now what mere months ago I wouldn't. A terrorist, as the muggles call them. I can't and won't associate with the likes of him anymore and bring shame to the name of Black. To imagine that both sons of the Black family besmirched the name, one as a blood-traitor and another as a murderer, both fighting on the different sides of a stupid war.
It was never supposed to be a war, I think as I slowly gain the strength to open my eyes. As I vow this, Kreacher runs towards me, hands flying in concern and my brother's hand stills yet he doesn't move, a silent show of support filled perhaps with the hope that I won't turn away from him again. Looking at them, I realize, I can save myself; which is a primary goal now after stopping that war which killed so many and would probably end with the ruin of both the House of Black and Slytherin; I can save the world and perhaps some relationships that I had lost in the past too. A true second chance.
Only, the Slytherin in me questions, what is the price?
A/N- Yes, the change in tense compared to the last chapter is deliberate. The last chapter, he still thought he was dead or dying or hallucinating. Now he is accepting things. Yes, it is too fast an acceptance and yes, he is going to question it as time goes by, as he heals from the ordeal his mind has suffered and starts to think more about the hows and whys.