THE GREAT LEAP BACKWARDS
Regulus stumbled as the time-turner's magic faded, his surroundings now unmistakably familiar. The warmth of the sun and the vibrant hum of life at Hogwarts confirmed it—he was home. He was back in his time, back where he belonged. But there was no time to linger. He had to find Sirius.
Clutching his chest as if to steady the storm inside, Regulus took off toward the castle. His mind raced just as quickly as his feet. He needed to see Sirius, to tell him everything, to warn him about the horcruxes, Voldemort, and the terrible fate that awaited them all.
As he bolted up the stone steps and through the main doors, he weaved through students milling about the corridors, ignoring their startled looks and whispers. His vision tunneled, focused only on one goal: his brother.
Turning sharply around a corner, he collided shoulder-first into someone, the force nearly sending him to the ground. Regulus stumbled back, his heart skipping a beat, but before he could fall, a firm hand caught his elbow and steadied him.
"Woah there, easy," came a familiar voice, laced with equal parts amusement and concern.
Regulus looked up, his breath catching in his throat. It was James Potter.
For a moment, Regulus froze, staring at him. James was alive, his messy black hair as unruly as ever, his glasses slightly askew from the collision. The sunlight from the nearby window made his hazel eyes glint with warmth. Seeing James again after the revelations of the future was almost too much. Regulus felt a surge of emotion swell in his chest—relief, disbelief, and something deeper he didn’t dare to name.
"You alright?" James asked, tilting his head.
Regulus blinked rapidly, forcing himself to snap out of it. "Y-yes," he stammered, stepping back to put some distance between them.
"You sure? You were running like Peeves was chasing you with a dungbomb." James' grin was boyish, easy, and so James that it made Regulus' heart ache.
Regulus shook his head, finally finding his voice. "I—I'm looking for Sirius," he said, his voice steadier now.
James raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "Sirius?"
Regulus nodded.
"That’s a first," James said, folding his arms. "Didn’t think you’d be looking for him after, you know, everything."
Regulus didn’t respond immediately. He couldn’t. How could he explain that in his mind, it had been years since he’d seen James or Sirius alive? That he’d traveled to a future where the world was shattered and both of them were gone?
Instead, he forced a faint smile. "It’s important."
James studied him for a moment, clearly puzzled, but eventually nodded. "Alright, I’ll take you to him. Come on."
James turned and started down the hall, gesturing for Regulus to follow. Regulus hesitated for only a second before falling into step behind him.
As they walked, Regulus couldn’t help but glance at James every so often, his chest tightening each time. The boy who walked beside him was so vibrant, so alive. For a fleeting moment, Regulus felt a strange urge to reach out, to grab James by the arm and pull him into a hug, to assure himself that he was real.
But he didn’t. Instead, he followed silently, the weight of everything unsaid pressing heavily on his shoulders. This wasn’t the time. It wasn’t the place.
Yet, seeing James alive, even for a moment, was enough to ignite a spark of determination within him. He had a mission to complete, and he wouldn’t fail this time.
James led Regulus through the winding corridors of Hogwarts, their steps echoing faintly against the stone walls. As they approached the Gryffindor Tower, Regulus felt a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest. The Fat Lady’s portrait swung into view, her vibrant dress and rosy cheeks a stark contrast to the somber tones of Slytherin’s dungeons.
James stopped and turned to him, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Ready for the Gryffindor experience?"
Regulus swallowed and nodded, though he wasn’t sure he truly was. James gave the password, and the portrait swung open, revealing a warm, golden-lit common room bustling with energy.
As they stepped inside, Regulus couldn’t help but be struck by how unique it all was. The space was cozy, almost homely, with mismatched chairs, roaring fireplaces, and walls adorned with banners and portraits. It was nothing like the cold, calculated grandeur of the Slytherin common room.
It felt… alive.
But before he could take in more, his gaze landed on Sirius. His brother stood near the center of the room, his back turned to the door. He was mimicking a professor, his arms gesturing wildly as he adopted an exaggerated voice. Laughter erupted from Remus, who sat on one of the couches with Lily, both of them clearly entertained by Sirius’ antics.
Regulus froze.
Sirius was right there. Laughing. Smiling. So completely himself that it was almost too much to bear. After everything Regulus had learned—about Azkaban, the accusations, the future that loomed like a storm—seeing Sirius like this, carefree and alive, felt both comforting and alien.
James, seemingly unfazed, called out, "Oi, Padfoot! You’ve got company!"
Sirius didn’t turn immediately, instead throwing a sarcastic remark over his shoulder. "If it’s McGonagall coming to tell me my jokes are too sharp, tell her I’ve already apologized to her hat."
James snorted. "Not quite. Turn around, mate."
Still grinning, Sirius turned casually, ready with another quip. But when his eyes landed on Regulus, the words caught in his throat.
He froze, the grin slipping from his face as he stared.
Regulus saw it all in that moment—the disbelief, the shock, the flicker of something raw and unguarded in his brother’s expression. Sirius looked as though he’d seen a ghost.
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.
Regulus’ heart pounded in his chest. It was strange to see Sirius like this, not as the man he’d glimpsed through Kreacher’s heartbreaking stories, but as the boy he’d grown up with. For a moment, all the bitterness, the arguments, the betrayal—they faded into the background.
"Sirius," Regulus finally said, his voice quieter than he’d intended.
Sirius blinked, as if trying to convince himself that what he was seeing was real. His lips parted, but no sound came out.
And for the first time in a long time, Regulus saw his brother speechless.
Sirius broke the silence with a tentative smile. "Regulus," he said, his voice softer than Regulus had expected. "I… I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, let alone here." His grin widened, genuine and warm. "I’m glad you’re here. Really."
Regulus felt a pang in his chest. He’d spent so long resenting Sirius for abandoning their family, for the chaos he left behind, that he’d never considered how Sirius might have felt. To see his brother now, smiling at him like the years of estrangement had never happened—it was almost too much.
"I…" Regulus began but faltered. There was so much he wanted to say, but the words stuck in his throat. Apologies for how he had treated Sirius, questions about how he had coped, everything that had gone unspoken between them. But this wasn’t the time.
"I need your help," Regulus said instead, his voice more firm than he felt.
Sirius’ smile faded slightly, concern replacing the warmth in his eyes. "Of course," he said without hesitation. "What’s going on?"
Regulus glanced around the room, his paranoia surfacing. "Not here," he said, his tone low. "We need to go somewhere more private."
Sirius’ brow furrowed, but he nodded. "Alright. Follow me."
He led Regulus through the bustling common room, where students lounged and chatted, and up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory. The room was cozy and chaotic, with mismatched blankets and personal items strewn across the beds.
Sirius motioned for Regulus to sit, but Regulus stayed standing, his eyes scanning the room. His gaze landed on one of the beds. It was neatly made, with books stacked on the nightstand and a woolen scarf draped over the headboard.
"That’s Remus’ bed," Sirius said, catching Regulus’ stare. His tone was casual, but there was a faint fondness there, one that didn’t escape Regulus.
Sirius sat on the edge of Remus’ bed, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp with curiosity. "Alright, Reg," he said, leaning forward. "What do you need my help with?"
Regulus took a deep breath. His fingers brushed against the time turner beneath his sweater, its weight grounding him. The enormity of what he was about to say threatened to overwhelm him, but he pushed the feeling aside.
This was his brother. He could do this.
Regulus took a deep breath and began, his voice trembling slightly as he tried to keep his emotions in check. "I need your help with a plan… to destroy Voldemort."
Sirius’ eyebrows shot up, skepticism clear on his face. "Destroy Voldemort? What plan?"
Regulus hesitated, knowing how much he was about to reveal. "I… I know Voldemort has made a Horcrux." He watched Sirius’ face carefully, gauging his reaction. "I need to find a way to stop him, to stop all of this before it’s too late."
Sirius interrupted, his voice sharp. "A Horcrux? How do you even know about that? How do you know all of this?"
Regulus looked away, unable to meet Sirius’ piercing gaze.
Sirius stood abruptly from the bed, his movements tense and agitated. "Regulus," he said, his voice colder now, "are you a Death Eater?"
The words hung heavy in the air, and Regulus felt his throat tighten. He didn’t answer.
"Answer me!" Sirius shouted, stepping closer. His anger was raw, and it burned in his eyes.
Finally, Regulus pulled up the sleeve of his robe, revealing the dark mark seared into his skin.
Sirius stared at it, his face contorting with rage and disbelief. "How dare you," he spat. "How dare you align yourself with him. With a monster who kills and tortures. How could you?"
Regulus felt the sting of his brother’s words but forced himself to respond. "I didn’t have a choice, Sirius. Our parents made me."
Sirius let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "You always had a choice! You could’ve left! You could’ve walked away like I did!"
Regulus’ voice rose, frustration and pain bubbling to the surface. "And while you were off living your best life, do you know what I was enduring? I had to stay. I had to deal with them—their fury, their punishments, their impossible expectations. You abandoned me, Sirius. You left me to deal with it all!"
Sirius was struck silent for a moment, but his anger quickly returned. "Don’t you dare try to justify this," he hissed, pointing at the dark mark. "You knew what he was. You knew what they were asking you to do. How could you even…?" His voice broke, his disgust evident. "How many people have you killed, Regulus?"
Regulus flinched. "I haven’t killed anyone!" he snapped, his voice shaking. "I… I’m trying to fix this. I’m trying to do what’s right. That’s why I need your help."
But Sirius shook his head, his disgust deepening. "No. You’re here to recruit me, aren’t you? That’s what this is about. You want me to join him, too."
"That’s not true!" Regulus said desperately. "Sirius, you have to listen to me. If we don’t do something now, we’re going to lose everything. You’re going to lose everything."
Sirius crossed his arms, his voice cold. "You don’t know the future, Regulus. No one does."
Regulus wanted to scream the truth at him, to tell him about the time-turner and the horrors he had witnessed. But he couldn’t. The rules of time travel were clear—he couldn’t reveal someone’s future, no matter how much he wanted to.
"Please," Regulus said, his voice breaking. "If we don’t act, you’ll lose everything. You’ll lose Remus."
The mention of Remus made Sirius’ eyes narrow, a defensive wall shooting up. "What are you talking about?"
"You know what I’m talking about," Regulus said quietly. "You won’t grow old with him. You’ll lose him. And it will destroy you."
Sirius’ expression darkened, his anger barely contained. "Get out," he said through clenched teeth.
"Sirius, please," Regulus begged.
"GET OUT!" Sirius bellowed, his voice shaking the room. "You’re no brother of mine. You’re nothing to me anymore. Leave. Now."
Regulus stood frozen, his chest heaving as he tried to find the words to change his brother’s mind. But it was clear that Sirius wouldn’t listen.
Defeated, Regulus turned and walked out of the dormitory, the weight of his failure pressing heavily on his shoulders. As he descended the stairs and left Gryffindor Tower, his mind churned.
He had lost Sirius. But he couldn’t afford to lose the fight.
Regulus descended the stairs from the dormitory, his face like a mask of ice. His emotions churned beneath the surface, too tangled and raw to process. He shoved the sleeve of his robe down over the Dark Mark, hiding it as if that could erase the mark it had left on his soul.
The Gryffindor common room was warm and loud, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside him. He made his way toward the exit, determined to leave before anyone could see the cracks forming in his composure.
But James was quicker. He stepped into Regulus’ path, he stopped the boy by holding his hand, his brow furrowed in concern. "Regulus? What happened? I heard yelling upstairs. Are you okay?"
Regulus stopped, his icy facade faltering as he looked into James’ eyes. Those hazel eyes—so full of life, so achingly familiar—seemed to pierce straight through him. His chest tightened, and for a fleeting moment, Regulus wanted nothing more than to reach out.
He wanted to touch James, to pull him close and hold him as if he could shield him from everything. To kiss him, to lose himself in the warmth and certainty of James’ presence. He wanted to promise that he would never let anything happen to him, that he would keep him safe from the horrors of the world, no matter the cost.
But he didn’t.
Regulus opened his mouth to say something, anything, but before the words could come, Sirius appeared at the top of the stairs. His voice was cold and sharp. "Let him go, James. There’s nothing more to be said."
James turned his head, confusion clouding his features as he looked back and forth between the brothers. "What’s going on? Sirius—"
"Just let him go," Sirius snapped, his tone brooking no argument. His eyes were hard, his jaw tight, and it was clear he wouldn’t tolerate any further questions.
James looked back at Regulus, his worry deepening. "Regulus?" he asked softly, his voice almost pleading.
But Regulus couldn’t bear it. He pulled his hand back from where it had hovered at his side, fingers twitching with the need to reach for James, and turned away. Without a word, he walked out of the common room, leaving James behind with his confusion and Sirius with his anger.
His steps quickened as he left Gryffindor Tower, the ache in his chest growing heavier with each stride. By the time he reached the castle’s dim corridors, his cold mask had returned, hiding the storm within.
Regulus wandered aimlessly through the darkened corridors of Hogwarts, his mind a tangled web of fear and frustration. He couldn’t go back to his dormitory; Evan and Barty would be there, waiting for him, expecting news. They would ask if he had retrieved the time-turner, and Regulus couldn’t risk telling them the truth.
He loved them—his closest friends, the only people in his world who truly understood him—but even their loyalty wasn’t worth the gamble. They couldn’t know what he had seen, what he now carried.
He paused near a window overlooking the moonlit grounds, his breath fogging the glass as he leaned against the cool stone. His thoughts raced, every potential plan falling apart the moment it formed. He couldn’t face Voldemort yet, not when the Dark Lord was protected by something so powerful, so unyielding such a Horcuxe.
The journal had been clear: his future self had discovered Voldemort’s Horcruxe and had died trying to destroy it. A single piece of Voldemort’s soul had been enough to kill him. Regulus knew he stood no chance against such dark magic, not alone.
Even if he could destroy Voldemort it didn't matter. Killing the Dark Lord now would only delay the inevitable; the Horcruxe would guarantee that his spirit would endure, waiting to regain form.
Right now, in this time, Voldemort was invincible.
But then, an idea struck him. A dangerous, impossible idea.
Regulus straightened, his heart pounding in his chest as the pieces began to fall into place. If he couldn’t destroy Voldemort now—if he couldn’t stop the monster he had become in the present—then maybe he could stop him in the past.
The time-turner still rested against his skin, warm beneath his sweater. The device hummed with possibility, the magic inside it potent and ancient. He had the means to go back. All he needed was to go far enough.
Far enough to find Voldemort before the Horcruxes.
Before he became Voldemort.
Regulus closed his eyes, his fists clenching as the enormity of the plan sank in. It was dangerous, reckless, and he had no guarantee it would work. But what choice did he have? His future self had failed. Sirius had turned him away. James… James couldn’t even know the truth.
If he could go back far enough—back to when Tom Riddle was just a man, a shadow of the monster he would become—then maybe, just maybe, Regulus could finish what his future self had started.
He exhaled shakily, the outline of his path becoming clearer in his mind. It was a gamble, but it was one worth taking.
Because Voldemort couldn’t be allowed to destroy any more lives.
Not Sirius. Not James. Not anyone.
And Regulus knew, deep in his soul, that he was the only one who could stop it.