Good News!

We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are. - Sirius Orion Black

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All that's left is the locket, discarded on the cobblestone floor of Sirius Black's bedroom. Nothing but the locket, and the letter within it.

Octagonal; green and gold; a snake-like 'S' displayed in the middle of the precious metal. The locket of Salazar Slytherin. Lost once, but never forgotten.

Sirius kicks it away.

He opens the windows, takes in the air, and throws his hands up.

He's dressed to the nines, his hair long and styled. He smiles, charming and larger-than-life. Cameras flash and people chatter below him, everybody desperate for confirmation of the news.

Sirius raises his head dramatically and shouts, “Good news! R.A.B. is dead!”

The crowd erupts into cheers. People are laughing, jumping, and shouting celebratory spells into the air. Patronus's dance along the clouds and fireworks go off over the Great Lake.

"The wickedest wizard there ever was! He's dead!"

"The enemy of all of us! He's dead!"

"He's dead!"

"He's dead!"

"He's dead!"

"He's dead! He's dead! He's dead!"

He's. Dead.

Sirius Orion Black, a celebrated hero and public figure, basks in the applause with a grin that doesn't quite meet his eyes.

"Let us be glad! Let us be grateful!" Sirius shouts joyfully.

Cheers erupt once more. Sirius revels in the attention. His eyes soften seeing the celebration, the happiness, the relief in the eyes of his people.

"Oh wizards and witches!" He begins again, "This is proof that good will conquer evil! Just as we always dreamed it would! Ambition can get us only so far, but it is bravery and chivalry that will outlive our lies! It is fatal to our world that from here on out we acknowledge that-"

"No one mourns the wicked!" Shouts a voice. This statement is met with cheers and agreements.

Sirius halts.

He quickly gains his bearings, and laughs lightly, "Ah yes, no one mourns the wicked... No one! Now-"

"I shall not cry for R.A.B! None shall cry!"

"None shall lay a lily on the grave of R.A.B!"

"Let's celebrate the fact that R.A.B is never to return!"

"My children aren't to grow in a world where R.A.B is remembered!"

"Down with R.A.B!"

'Regulus Arcturus (the) Bad,' more commonly referred to as 'R.A.B: The Wicked One' had been a figure of terror for years, accused of dark magic, dangerous experiments, and countless crimes. His origins were a mystery, his power unmatched, and his reputation irredeemable.

The wizards and witches assembled in the crowd continue to shout out claims, threats, and insults.

Sirius observes, a tightness in his smile and a somberly gaze in his grey orbs.

He's. Dead.

Sirius stands still, his mind not entirely there with the crowd anymore.

"He's dead!"

"His life was lonely! And now he's dead!"

"He's dead!"

"He died alone! He's dead!"

"He's dead!"

"Padfoot!"

Sirius flinches. He hadn't heard that name in a long, long time.

"Yes?!" He immediately responds. He meets the eyes of a young girl scattered with scratches along her face; a werewolf.

He falters, "Hi miss... where did you learn the name... Padfoot?"

The young girl smiles, "I've read Sirius Orion (the) Brave: The Life of the Goodest Man Who Ever Lived a million times! I'm your biggest fan!"

Sirius blinks, trying to recover from the unexpected jolt of nostalgia.

“Ah, wow,” he clears his throat, forcing a smile. “That is incredible young lady... it is such a joy to meet you!"

The young girl’s eyes widen, her excitement bubbling over, "I know all about you! You’re a hero! You keep us safe from all the bad guys!"

Sirius stiffens, and then promptly softens, "Yes, yes, that’s true,” he says, too quickly, too brightly, "But, uh… that’s not important now. What’s important is-"

“Are you sad about R.A.B.?” she interrupts, her voice sincere, full of the sort of innocence that makes Sirius’s stomach twist.

“Sad?” he echoes, his voice strained, "Why would I be sad? He was the enemy. The wicked one. His death… well, it was necessary.” He forces a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

The girl watches him carefully, then shakes her head, “But no one mourns the wicked. Isn’t that what you said?”

Sirius stiffens. The words echo in his mind, like an old song with lyrics he doesn’t remember choosing. No one mourns the wicked.

"That is what I said, yes. You listen well," he smiles.

He in fact, though, had not muttered those words until the world had muttered them first.

That seemed to be the case with most words that 'Sirius The Goodest' muttered.

"But you seem sad..." the girl remarked.

“I... No dear. I'm not sad. I'm just glad it’s over,” he says with a forced cheerfulness, pushing past her with a quick pat on the head, "The world is safer now.”

The girl pulls on his arm, "Wait! Padfoot! I-it says in my book that... well... that you knew him once!"

The crowd goes silent.

Sirius freezes, caught off guard. He turns to face the girl once more, his expression slipping for just a moment.

"Knew him?” he repeats, buying time to think. The crowd quiets even further, curiosity and underlying disbelief growing.

The girl nods, "Y-yeah... Is that true?"

Sirius blinks, feeling the weight of the question settle into the pit of his stomach. He looks down at the girl, her bright eyes full of naive sincerity, oblivious to the complexities she’s just unearthed. For a split second, the whole world falls away. The cheers, the flashing cameras, the expectations; it all seems so distant. All that remains is the girl’s question.

“Did I know him?” Sirius echoes a third time, his voice shaky despite himself.

The crowd holds its breath.

Sirius laughs, but it sounds hollow, the kind of laugh he only gives when he’s trying to keep the cracks from showing. His fingers twitch at his sides as if the truth might burst out of him if he lets them move too freely.

He clears his throat. “Well, yes… I knew him, of course,” he says, his voice steadier now, slipping back into the role he’s always played.

“He was… a boy, once. A misguided boy. Just like many of us.”

The crowd murmurs, seemingly satisfied, but Sirius isn’t. His gaze drifts past the girl to the distant horizon, as though searching for something in the distance that he doesn’t have words for. It feels like he’s sinking, like the ground is pulling away beneath him. He can’t shake the image of Regulus... drowning... all alone-

“But… did you ever like him?” The girl’s voice cuts through his thoughts, sharp and innocent in a way that feels like a betrayal.

The girl stares at him with wide eyes, and Sirius feels something crack inside him.

“That... that doesn't matter,” he says sharply, voice hardening, trying to bury what little empathy he’s left with.

Then he turns it back on.

He smiles, and announces, "He made his choices, and that was that. Now, you should go on your way, little one. You’ve got a world to change, just like I did once.”

The crowd cheers for their savior, and Sirius smiles and bows, ravishing in his birth-gifted spotlight. The crowd then returns to the celebrations they've set up.

But the girl doesn’t leave. She stands still, looking up at him, her eyes searching his face.

“You don’t have to be happy, you know,” she says softly, almost to herself, “you can mourn the wicked… if you want.”

And with that, she turns and walks away, leaving Sirius standing in the middle of a crowd that’s moved on, celebrating the death of the Wicked One.

Sirius stands frozen for a moment, the weight of her words crashing down on him like a tidal wave.

"I..." he begins, but the girl is gone. No one is listening to him.

A wizard nearby says, "Oh, The Wicked One... You know he had absolutely no family-"

"Actually he had a father. And he had a mother. Just as so many do," Sirius snaps.

The crowds' heads simultaneously whip around to face Sirius.

Sirius takes a deep breath, "He was wicked. But... he was a boy once."

Sirius realizes the crowd is intent on hearing this story... and even if it is to be told only to meet spectacle and curiosity... at least it is to be told.

"His parents are unknown, that is true. But they were very real..."

Sirius closes his eyes, and recounts the tale of Regulus Arcturus' childhood.

“Regulus Arcturus... or as many of you know him, R.A.B,” Sirius starts, his voice dropping into a more solemn tone, "was orphaned at a very young age. His family was heavily involved in Death Eater activity and his brother was taken by an unknown family member and shipped off to London. Regulus on the other hand, was raised by his house elf, Kreacher, after his parents, both also unknown, were killed in an attack involving dark magic."

Sirius looks at the crowd, noticing how their expressions shift. They’re listening, but their eyes are still filled with suspicion.

"Kreacher and Regulus lived in a dark house for many years, just the two of them. There were so many wizarding families and Regulus was so young... none could identify which house he belonged to. However fellow Death Eater families, the Rosier's and the Crouch's, took the boy in when he was about ten. And he befriended..." Sirius takes a deep breath, "Evan Rosier and Barty Crouch Jr."

The crowd all winces, reminded of the recently deceased Evil Eastern Wizards.

"Ever since Regulus was born though... he was different..." Sirius continued, "imagine being a boy with power so raw it scared everyone around you. Imagine having no one but a house-elf and evil wizards to guide you. He was brilliant... but he was also angry. Angry at the world for taking everything from him. Angry enough to make everyone afraid of him. That’s how he became R.A.B.... So you see... it couldn't have been easy-"

But at this point... no one is listening anymore. They've all returned to their spells and fireworks and cheers...

Sirius realizes then... he can't change perspectives. And to try would be to the downfall of everything both he and Regulus ever tried to do.

But... he could give the crowd a show.

A wicked show.

"Everyone! Please! I have a story to tell!" Sirius yells, "I command you all listen to me!"

The crowd looks to Sirius. Though deterred from his empathetic view on Regulus's upbringing, they also remained firm in their immense respect for their Goodest Wizard.

Sirius smiles, dashing and gorgeous, "Thank you, thank you."

He winks and someone faints.

Sirius laughs, "Thank you everyone. I shall now tell you about me! And... the Wicked One as well. You see... our paths crossed at school."

The crowd all gazed at Sirius, awaiting the tales of his youth. Ready to hear of how his rivalry against the Wicked R.A.B began.

"Yes, our paths crossed," Sirius continued.

"At Hogwarts."