Chapter 1
A heavy pop fills the hallways of Grimmauld Palace. Heavy black boots fall dully on the carpet, shortly followed by dirty dress shoes that have clearly been worn outside a few too many times.
“I’ll grab my chest, start throwing in clothes you go through the study anything marked S. Black you grab and bring back to my room, okay?”
James gives the other boy a curt nod, already aware of their mission before it was stated directly.
Sirius would be moving into Godric’s Hollow this summer, he had declared loudly over lunch with James and Fleamont that he would not be returning his 7th year if he remained in Black Manor. Fleamont, having been charmed by the boy since his first year, obviously offered him a place to stay so he could return to Hogwarts.
Now James and Sirius had to pack for his arrival.
He wasn’t too familiar with the layout of Grimmauld but knew well enough from the handful of events the Black family had held that he could find the study relatively easy.
His hand was on the doorknob, turning it as slowly and quietly as possible before being interrupted by a loud cry from downstairs.
His hand froze and his head swung in the direction of the noise.
“Crucio!”
James’ heart drops and his face goes pale, moving away from the study and toward Sirius’ room as quickly as he could without making noise.
“Sirius” He hisses out.
“You done already?” Sirius looked up, a surprised expression on his face.
“No, no.” James shakes his head and swallows lightly “There’s someone here, using one of the unforgivables.”
“Oh, that’s Mother” Sirius shrugs nonchalantly, going back to looking through his clothes and throwing them into his chest.
James makes a baffled face, Sirius doesn’t look up.
“Kreacher probably spilled her tea or something.” He waves his hand “Don’t worry about it, she does it all the time.”
“Don’t worry?” James is astounded.
“Yeah don’t worry,” Sirius repeats, “Used to be me now she’s probably taking it out on Kreacher.” Sirius shrugs again. “Not like she’d hurt a hair on her pretty little Reggie’s head. He’s the new heir haven't you heard.” Contempt and a twinge of jealousy lace his voice as he speaks.
“But it still could be-” James tries to argue.
“It really can’t be though.” Sirius turns around now “She hasn’t touched Regulus since he was sorted into Slytherin. It was always me, and now that I’m gone they can play out their perfect pureblood fantasy.”
James says nothing.
“It’s Kreacher. Regulus would be crying like a bitch.” He scoffs under his breath. Turning away and waving a hand, shooing James out of the room
James leaves the room begrudgingly.
He sits in the hallway, listening to the commotions and the soft whimpers he doesn’t fully believe are coming from a house elf.
He waits.
“Crucio!”
He waits.
“Crucio!”
He waits.
Silence.
Aside from small whimpers and groans muffled by the carpeted floors and walls thick with paintings.
James waits a little longer to hear the telltale pop of apparition, and a little longer to make sure she stays gone.
He makes his way down the hallway, deciding that he’d be quieter if he took his shoes off, not wanting to run into Regulus if it was Kreacher. Maybe a little because he was a bit scared of what Sirius would do if he saw him going downstairs to observe the damage.
Holding his shoes he makes his way down the stairs, his eyes swivelling and his wand in hand.
The last step creaks lightly and James lets out a small groan, immediately freezing at the involuntary noise.
He waits a minute in silence, unmoving, but when no other sound is heard he slowly makes his way into the kitchen.
Kreacher is there, a little shorter than the counters mixing a potion with practiced ease.
“Kreacher?” James asks in a hushed whisper.
The elf turns around quickly, leaving the half-mixed potion on the counter as he observes James with narrowed eyes.
James realizing Kreacher won't be responding begins to speak again.
“Are you okay? What are you doing?” He tries to get a better view of what potion he could possibly be concocting but is unable to identify it.
“Kreacher is fine.” His eyes narrow a bit more, “Not doing anything of your concern.”
Kreacher turns back to his potion, pulling round leaves off of a sprig and adding them to the smoky vial.
James stops, cringing at his own thought process, but desperate for answers he begins.
“Im pureblood Kreacher you have to listen to me. What are you doing.” He tries to look stern but his crossed arms and nervous eyes just make him look uncomfortable.
The house elf sighs and turns around again, patting his hands on the rag of a shirt.
“Kreacher is making a healing potion for Master Regulus,” he scowls before spitefully adding a “Sir.”
James nods, trying not to let his eyes widen. He knew it.
“Thank you, Kreacher.”
The house elf scoffs again, responding no more.
James turns on his heels, his new mission to find Regulus.
He didn’t know Regulus very well, he had only talked to him a few times but he still felt a clinging empathy for him. He was still just a boy who had grown up in the same home that Sirius was subjected to, the same family, the same expectations, the same abuse.
As James enters the living room the small whimpers and murmurs get a bit louder, he scans the area with frantic precision. His eyes land on a trembling body, curled up beside the couch on the floor.
His feet are moving before his brain can even process.
“Sirius!” He shouts, angling his head away from Regulus.
The smaller boy still flinches and a twinge of guilt rises through James’ body.
He hears a loud bang from upstairs, knowing he startled Sirius but uncaring.
James crouches down next to Regulus, trying to stay an arm's distance away just in case.
“Regulus may I touch you?” He says it in a quiet voice, trying not to startle the boy again, but receives no response.
“Regulus?” He asks again, suffering the same silence.
He can hear Sirius’ footsteps coming down the stairs now, stomping now that the boy knows it’s safe if the yelling from James was any indicator.
“What?” Sirius asks, a bit ruffled and confused “What happened?”
James doesn’t say anything, putting a gentle hand on Regulus’ neck to check his pulse.
Sirius pales at the sight, his true emotions showing on his face before he steels, clenching his jaw.
James closes his eyes trying to focus on the dull beating in the younger boy's throat.
“I need to take him home, mother will know how to fix it.” James says, his voice a bit wobbly with fear. He had never seen something like this, couldn’t begin to understand why a mother would do this to her own child.
“I’m sure Kreacher can take care of it,” Sirius says, his voice not holding the same sentiment as his words.
“I’m sure he could,” James briefly turns his head to shoot Sirius a look “But I would much prefer him to not be here when she comes back.”
Sirius looks like he wants to argue, instead he just sighs.
“Give me a moment.”
He stomps back up the stairs, returning moments later dragging his large trunk behind him, thumping down the stairs.
Kreacher comes scrambling into the room holding a small potion, alerted by how loud Sirius is being.
“Master Sirius!” Kreacher squeaks out.
Sirius points his wand at Kreacher, “If you tell mother or father about this you will die, do you understand me?”
Kreacher squeaks once more, nodding his large head. He stands unmoving in the doorway still clutching the smoking vial.
Sirius grabs James’ shoulder, his hands being occupied with an unconscious Regulus, and with a pop they’re warping, time and space bending around them until they’re standing in the living room of Godric’s Hollow.
“Back so soon boys?” Euphemia’s cheery voice sounds from the kitchen, her clunky footsteps nearing the boys.
“Mom,” James’ voice is weak as he speaks, still clutching onto Regulus.
Euphemia gasps when she enters the room, rushing toward the boys.
“Oh dear,” She guides James to the couch with a gentle touch, ushering him to lay Regulus down “What happened?”
“She was using the Cruciatus curse on him,” His voice is shaking as if he’s going to cry “and he won't wake up and his heart is so slow.”
James chokes back a sob, getting overwhelmed and scared.
Sirius stands unmoving in the center of the room.
“Monty!” Euphemia shouts, Regulus involuntarily flinches “Come quickly, bring the Dittany darling.”
She takes out her wand which was sitting in the small pocket of her apron, she mutters “Episkey” over and over again until Regulus’ bones have stopped cracking and the sweat covering his forehead stops glistening as brightly.
Fleamont is rushing down the stairs with bottles clinking.
Ever the hero Fleamont, willing to bring whatever he can even unknowing of the situation, James finds himself thinking a bit hysterically.
He hovers uselessly over Regulus’ body as his father gently feeds the bottle's contents to the small boy.
“You boys go upstairs,” Euphemia dismisses, a bit frantic with the situation she was thrust into.
James nods once and helps Sirius with his trunk as they make their way up the stairs.
It’s silent as they enter James’ room.
It’s quiet for a good while until Regulus starts crying. So loudly it feels as if it’s shaking the walls.
“Take me back home!” His voice is loud and shrill in the way that only a prepubescent boy could manage. “Please take me back home! I can’t be here!” His wails are pounding in James’ ears.
He cries and cries for what feels like hours.
“I told you that you would be able to hear him.” Sirius lets out a humorless laugh.
James looks at him, Sirius is sitting upright on the edge of the bed expressionless and looking at the floor.
“She used that curse on me every day.”
James draws in a heavy breath, “I’m sorry.”
“And nobody ever cared.”
“I’m sorry.”
Fleamont takes Regulus back to Grimmauld Place that night and not another word is spoken until the sun rises the next morning.