Chapter 8
Regulus
The Riddle Manor sits on a hill, atop a small muggle village. It’s so laughable, the idea that the greatest wizard of our age is in the midst of muggles. But it’s true.
Evan flops onto the bed, ignoring my kick of protest. I had gotten back from torturing the prisoner an hour ago, had reported to the Dark Lord, and showered, by the time he got home. Barty is still out on a mission, probably chatting up were-wolf groups with Fenrir.
“Is it weird for you?” He asks, voice quiet, but Evan is always quiet, compared to Barty.
“Is what weird for me?”
“Having James Potter at your disposal? It’s what you’ve always wanted isn’t it? You’ve bested Potter.”
He’s not technically wrong. When we were younger, my parents had it in their heads that I would marry James Potter. Of course, nothing was set in stone with either family, and that was before I transitioned. That was before Hogwarts too. Then Sirius became his best mate, and became a blood-traitor, and a disgrace, and then I transitioned, and every hope my family had was gone. They despised the Potters for brainwashing my brother, and they despised me for mucking up any plans for becoming the next proper Heir.
I hate Potter for my own reasons. He took my brother from me. He made it so my brother hated me and didn’t take me with him. The Potters would’ve taken us both, I’m sure of it. It’s because Potter didn’t want to have to share Sirius with anyone, it’s because he made it so Sirius forgot about his ownrealbrother.
“It’s a dream come true,” I murmur, and close my book. Evan is watching the clock, anxiously. “Oh for fucks sake Rosier, he’ll come back. He always does.”
He ignores me, twisting his charm bracelet round and round his wrist. It’s one he shares with his twin, Barty, Dorcus and I. The year Dorcus graduated, she gave us all one, with little charms that was a memorium of each year we’d been friends, and ever since we’ve all added one every year. Except now Dorcus is gone, and none of us know where she is. Not even her girlfriend, Marlene McKinnon, who nearly killed Evan, demanding to know where Dorcus had gone. She’s been gone for over a year, and it’s nearly torn our little group apart.
Pandora has tried to go find her, and Barty, Evan and I all are on high alert for any whisper of her. Sybil has even tried to find her in her crystal ball, but Dorcus is too powerful of a witch to allow something as easy as a crystal ball to find her. She probably went into hiding because the Dark Lord was eager for her death. One of the most powerful witches of the age, and she disappeared off the face of the earth because of a noseless man.
But the fact that she didn’t even mention anything to us or McKinnon makes us all uneasy. Dorcus was careful and powerful, but she was also horrifically loyal. I sigh and rub my forearms, a habit, to soothe my many scars. I need to stop thinking of her in the past tense. There is no way in hell Dorcus Medows is dead.
Barty bursts into the room, my room technically in the Riddle Manor, but it doesn't feel anything like me. The Dark Lord allows a few of us Death Eaters to stay in the manor, Barty and I do, and Evan, purely because of us, because he has a perfectly nice room at Pandora's flat, or an empty room at the Rosier Chateau, but he claims the reason he doesn’t visit is his sisters roommate and his parent’s presence.
Barty tackles Evan in a tight squeeze, nipping at his neck while I scoff and say, “Get a room,” but I’m happy for them. After all the madness they’ve endured, they deserve some comfort in each other.
A rough bark of laughter breaks the peace, and a rage filled scream: “I just want to know where he is, Lestrange!” I know that voice. Sybill Trelawney. Peter Pettigrew’s girlfriend.
I bolt for the door, down the stairs and to the foyer, Evan and Barty at my heels. Rodolphus is menacingly standing toe to toe with Sybill, who’s long curls shake with suppressed rage.
She stares at me, trying so hard not to cry. “Lestrange,” Barty hisses, “Leave.” The man glares at us for a moment, then scoffs. “Fine, let the Dark Lord find out you’ve let in this trash.” Once he’s gone, Sybill turns to us.
“Peter hasn’t come home. I’ve tried to find him in my crystal ball, but it’s shrouded in darkness and I’m so scared and I thought he might be here, hurt, recovering from a mission he couldn't tell me about but Rodolphus says he hasn’t been here in nearly a week.”
Evan goes to her, and she physically collapses in his arms. They’re close, second cousins or something, Sybill and Pandora are practically sisters. But I can see this knowledge does nothing to calm Barty’s always raging jealousy.
“I can take you to Pan,” Evan reassures her, “We’ll figure this out.”
I realize with a jolt that I should tell Sybill what I’ve done. I should tell her where Peter is. It’s what a good person would do. It’s what Sirius would do. But darkness clouds my mind, in the form of my mother’s voice. But you're not Sirius are you, κόρη? You are a massive disappointment to me. But so is he, in many ways. Two children, you’d think one of them would be the good heir.
And my mother is right. I’m not Sirius. So I watch as Evan kisses Barty goodbye and leads Sybill out the door, rubbing my forearms all the while.
Potter is a resilient one, I’ll give him that. He’s survived the Cruciatus Curse from Barty without losing his mind multiple times. He just had the bad luck of Evan staying the night at his sisters, so Barty is on edge and dragged me down here to take his rage out on the prisoner.
It’s been a while, so I’m sitting with my back to the wall, eyes unfocused. Finally, Barty loses his passion, and stops. “I’m going to see if He has a mission for me. Want to come?” I shake my head. God bless the poor soul who gets stuck on the receiving end of Barty’s wand today.
I wait till he’s gone.
“How honest was Sirius?”
The question throws Potter.
“What?”
“Was he a very honest person?”
Potter, still in pain from the curse, takes a moment to recover and think about what I’ve asked.
“Sirius was very…charming and could talk his way out of almost anything. But when it mattered, he always told the truth to us.”
Us being Potter and his ragtag team of friends-Lupin, Pettigrew, Evans, McKinnon, MacDonald, and for a few years, Dorcus.
“Wouldn’t you know if he was honest?”
God Potter’s not that smart.
“He would lie straight faced to our parents all the time. Sometimes he got caught. Other times he didn’t. But he did it because he had too. It was necessary to survive for him. I was curious if he did the same when it wasn’t life or death. You forget, Potter, I knew him when he was a little pawn for our family, and then when you got your claws into him he started to shut himself off, and my parents wouldn’t let me near the blood traitor you turned my brother into. And then he ran off to you, and I haven’t exactly had a proper chance to talk to him since.”
Potter goes quiet. “Are you accusing me of stealing Sirius?”
I don’t reply, my glare is answer enough.
“Regulus, I didn’t steal him! He came on his own accord, because your parents are abusive psycho paths! He wanted to bring you home too but knew you’d never leave!”
Suddenly it's hard to breathe. “I never took you for a liar, Potter.”
Surprisingly, he throws himself at the bars, desperate to convince me. “Regulus, he wanted to take you. I would’ve let him. You know I’d do anything for Sirius, especially if it involved you.”
What does that mean? Especially if it involved you?
“He clearly didn’t want me bad enough,” I say, and stand. I’m furious with myself. I should never have asked Potter anything. Now he knows I’m pathetically pissed at him for stealing my brother.
I leave the dungeon, resolving in my head that there is no way in hell I’m going to tell Sybill Trelawney what I know. Fuck my brother and his courage and ‘righteous’ heart. I’m not like him. I don’t want to become him.