THE WORST PIES IN LONDON
THE WORST PIES IN LONDON - JUST TAKE A SECOND TO LISTEN TO THIS
The atmosphere in Number 12, Grimmauld Place was buzzing with energy. The house was being polished to a shine, Kreacher moving around faster than Regulus had ever seen him, muttering to himself about guests and traditions. Walburga was in rare form, barking orders at everyone in sight.
“You will behave yourselves tonight,” she declared sharply, her eyes darting between her sons. “I won’t have either of you embarrassing me in front of our guests.”
Sirius leaned against the doorframe with an infuriatingly casual smirk. “Oh, don’t worry, Mother. I promise to be the perfect heir you always dreamed of.”
Walburga’s eyes narrowed, clearly unconvinced. “Don’t get smart with me, Sirius. If I catch you causing trouble—”
Sirius raised his hands in mock surrender, cutting her off. “Merlin forbid, Mother. Trouble? Me?”
Regulus watched the exchange with muted fascination. Walburga and Sirius bickered as if the silent treatment she’d been giving him just days before had never happened. It was strange, surreal even. He thought about how, in his timeline, Sirius would have been halfway out the door by now, spitting insults over his shoulder. But this Sirius—this version of his brother—had clearly mastered the art of surviving their parents.
Regulus glanced at Sirius’s arm, where he knew the tattoo was hidden. He hadn’t noticed it until Walburga brought it up that morning.
“You’ve disgraced this family enough already, and now this?” she had hissed, gesturing at Sirius’s arm. “What kind of man defiles his body with ink like a common Muggle?”
Orion had barely looked up from his paper during the tirade. “It’s just a tattoo, Walburga. Hardly the end of the world.”
“Hardly the end—!” she started, but Sirius had simply grinned and left the room, clearly enjoying her outrage.
Now, as the first of the guests began to arrive, Regulus felt a knot forming in his stomach. He stood at the top of the staircase, looking down at the gathering crowd. At first, the sight of them—their opulent robes, their sharp features—made him feel like he was back in his timeline. This was how Death Eater meetings had always looked.
His pulse quickened as his eyes scanned the crowd, searching for masks, for the glint of wands, for him.
But none of it was there.
Regulus exhaled slowly as he realized these were not Death Eaters. These were relatives, friends, and acquaintances of the Black family. People laughing, chatting, sipping wine. He could hear snippets of conversation—someone boasting about their latest magical invention, another person laughing about a recent trip to Paris.
There was no darkness here. No whispered threats or veiled glances.
It hit him like a brick wall: Voldemort had never risen to power in this reality.
His head spun, and he gripped the banister for support. The very idea was staggering. No Voldemort. No war. None of the horrors that had haunted him his entire life.
Sirius appeared at his side, nudging him lightly with his elbow. “What’s wrong with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Regulus shook his head, forcing a faint smile. “Nothing. Just... taking it all in.”
Sirius gave him a curious look but didn’t press further. Instead, he gestured to the crowd below. “They’re not so bad. Boring, mostly. Except Cousin Andromeda—she’s great. But don’t tell Mother I said that.”
Regulus nodded absently, his mind still reeling. How was he supposed to navigate a world where everything he knew had been turned on its head?
The descent down the stairs was less intimidating with Sirius by his side, cracking jokes about their relatives as they passed them. Regulus found himself laughing along, though his nerves hummed beneath the surface. They mingled briefly in the parlor, exchanging pleasantries with distant relatives whose names Regulus could barely recall.
When the dinner bell chimed, everyone made their way to the dining room, a sprawling space with a long, dark oak table laden with an array of dishes. Regulus found himself seated between Bellatrix and Narcissa. Though they weren’t Death Eaters in this reality, something about Bellatrix still set him on edge. She had the same sharp features, the same manic glint in her eyes, and the same tendency to dominate any room she entered.
As the family settled, Bellatrix, took on the hostess role, took it upon herself to serve the meat pie. She placed a generous slice on Regulus’s plate while continuing her conversation with Walburga, who was practically glowing with pride at her niece’s attentiveness.
Regulus glanced at Sirius, who was seated directly across from him. Sirius caught his eye and subtly shook his head, making an exaggerated gagging motion. Regulus raised an eyebrow but decided to trust his brother's silent warning.
As dinner got underway, Sirius immediately started poking at Bellatrix. “So, Bella, still handing out unsolicited life advice, or are you just ruining pies these days?” he said, tapping his fork against the edge of his plate like a judge delivering a verdict.
Bellatrix froze, her knife poised mid-air. Her eyes narrowed to slits. “And you’re still proving that wit doesn’t run in the family, aren’t you, Sirius?”
Sirius leaned back, smirking. “Oh, Bella, I have wit. I just save it for people worth the effort. Speaking of effort, did you actually cook this yourself, or did you just threaten a house-elf into doing it?”
Bellatrix’s grip on her knife tightened. “This pie is a family recipe, Sirius. Unlike you, it’s something we’re proud of.”
“Family recipe, huh? What family? The Trollblood Clarks?” Sirius snorted.
At this, Narcissa, sitting demurely beside Bellatrix, nearly choked on her wine.
Bellatrix ignored her. “At least I’m contributing to the family, Sirius. What do you do? Parade around London, making a spectacle of yourself? You’re a disgrace to our name.”
“Better a spectacle than whatever this is,” Sirius shot back, gesturing vaguely at her outfit. “Did you get dressed in the dark? Or did the curtains offend you, and you decided to wear them as punishment?”
Bellatrix gasped, hand flying to her chest like she’d been physically struck. “How dare you! This is pure wizarding silk!”
“Is it? Or is that just a fancy name for tablecloth fabric?” Sirius said innocently, taking a bite of potato like he hadn’t just declared war.
Regulus, who had been trying very hard to disappear into his chair, now felt all eyes on him as Bellatrix turned sharply. “Regulus,” she hissed, “are you going to let him insult me like this? Your own brother!”
Regulus blinked, caught completely off guard. “Uh, I—”
But Sirius waved him off. “Leave him out of it, Bella. He’s still recovering from your pie.”
Bellatrix’s eyes flared dangerously. “There is nothing wrong with my pie!”
“Oh, there’s something wrong with it, all right,” Sirius said, leaning forward. “I’m just not sure whether to blame you or the goat you probably wrestled for the filling.”
Before Bellatrix could retort, Orion, clearly tuning out the argument, forked up a piece of the pie and took a bite. There was a beat of silence as everyone turned to him, and then Orion made a loud gagging sound, clutching his throat. “What in Merlin’s name is this abomination?” he spluttered, dropping his fork like it had bitten him. “This isn’t food—it’s a curse! The worst pie in London.”
The room erupted into chaos.
Bellatrix shot to her feet, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. “Excuse me? You dare insult my cooking?!”
“Cooking?” Orion wheezed, downing his wine in one go like it might save him. “This isn’t cooking, Bella. It’s a declaration of war on my taste buds!”
“Uncle Orion, you wouldn’t know good food if it jumped off the plate and hexed you!” Bellatrix screeched, jabbing her fork in his direction.
“Good thing this pie didn’t jump,” Sirius interjected. “It would’ve broken its legs on the way down.”
“You—!” Bellatrix rounded on Sirius, but before she could finish, Orion, apparently emboldened by his dramatic review, held up the offending slice like it was evidence in a trial.
“Honestly, Bella,” he declared, “these are the worst pies in London!”
The table erupted. Walburga was half-shouting about respect, Narcissa was biting her knuckle to keep from laughing, and Lucius—unable to hold it in any longer—snorted so loudly he had to duck behind his goblet.
Sirius seized the moment. He caught Regulus’s eye and gestured toward the door with an exaggerated nod. Regulus, still laughing, quickly followed as Sirius mouthed, Run.
Once they were safely in the hallway, they both burst out laughing, leaning against the wall for support.
“She’s going to hex him,” Regulus wheezed, clutching his stomach. “She’s actually going to hex Dad over a pie!”
Sirius laughed, rolling his eyes. "Oh, she definitely would if Dad didn’t keep making those ridiculous comments. I swear, he’s the only one who can calm her down when she’s on a rampage."
Regulus let out a soft laugh. "I think she’ll still be fuming about it for the next week. You know how she is."
Regulus smiled, feeling a strange comfort in the fact that his brother could be so carefree. "I’ll miss you at these family gatherings once you move in with Remus."
Sirius raised an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look. "I won’t be gone for good, you know. I’ll still be around to drive Bellatrix mad. I can’t wait to see her reaction when she finds out about Remus."
Regulus’s smile softened. "I’m glad, you know. I thought maybe I’d lose you for good when you moved out, but... now I know you won’t just disappear." He glanced at Sirius, feeling the weight of his words.
Sirius looked at him, his usual cocky grin slipping for a moment, replaced by something warmer. "I’m not going anywhere, Reg. You’ve got me, and I’m not going to let anyone take that away."
Regulus nodded, the unease in his chest easing slightly. Then, Sirius clapped him on the shoulder. "Speaking of which, I need your help with something. I’ve got to pack all my things for the move next week before my internship starts. It’s a nightmare, but you owe me one after I saved you from Bellatrix’s meltdown."
Regulus raised an eyebrow. "You want me to help you pack?"
Sirius grinned. "Yep. No one else is gonna do it properly, and I’m not trusting Kreacher with my things. He clearly doesn't like me. You’re the only one I can rely on, Reg."
Regulus hesitated, but then gave a reluctant nod. "Alright, I’ll help. But if you expect me to fold your clothes you're dead wrong."
Sirius laughed, leading the way upstairs. When they reached his room, he threw open the door. It was a mess of half-packed boxes, clothes, and scattered books.
Regulus raised an eyebrow. "How does anyone live like this?"
Sirius shot him a grin. "Hey, it’s creative chaos. Don’t knock it until you try it." He tossed a pair of shoes into one of the boxes and gestured for Regulus to help with the pile of clothes on the bed.
Regulus snorted, grabbing a handful of clothes and starting to fold them. "This is not creative chaos. This is just a disaster."
As they packed, the air between them grew thick with silence, a tension Regulus couldn’t shake. He kept his head down, pushing clothes into a bag, avoiding Sirius’s gaze. But Sirius, ever perceptive, wasn’t going to let him off that easily.
“Alright, what’s going on with you?” Sirius’s voice was blunt, no trace of his usual joking tone. “You’ve been acting weird ever since the summer holidays started. This isn’t you.”
Regulus paused, feeling the weight of his brother’s words. He kept his back to Sirius, trying to play it off. “Nothing’s going on. Just tired, I guess.”
Sirius stopped packing and stared at him, arms crossed. “Regulus, come on. You’re my brother. I know when something’s up. You can’t hide it from me.”
Regulus felt his throat tighten, a strange lump forming as he realized how much he wanted to keep the truth to himself. But there was something about the way Sirius was looking at him, with that familiar, unyielding stare, that made it impossible to stay silent. He sighed, sitting down on the bed, pulling his knees to his chest.
“I guess if I’m going to confide in someone, it might as well be you,” Regulus muttered, his eyes trained on the floor.
Sirius sat down beside him, the space between them closing in an instant. “You know you can tell me anything, right? So, what’s really going on?”
Regulus hesitated for a moment before speaking, his words tumbling out in a rush. “It’s about James.” He stopped, his heart pounding as the weight of what he was about to say hit him. “We... we kissed. And I... I thought maybe it meant something. But afterwards, he acted like it was a mistake. Like I was a mistake.”
Sirius’s brow furrowed, concern flashing in his eyes. “Wait, James Potter? You kissed my best mate James Potter?”
Regulus nodded, not meeting his brother’s gaze. “Yeah, and I don’t even know why I did it. But I’ve liked him... I think I’ve loved him for years, Sirius. Ever since I can remember.”
Sirius’s face softened, though there was a tinge of disbelief. “You’ve loved him all this time? And now he’s just going to brush you off like that?”
Regulus stood up abruptly, walking to a suitcase to force himself to focus on the mundane task of packing again. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
But Sirius wasn’t having it. He stood and stepped in front of him, blocking the path to the suitcase. “No, you’re not just going to bottle this up. Reg, how do you feel about it?”
Regulus clenched his jaw, fighting to keep the emotions from spilling over. “I... I feel like an idiot. Like I’m in love with someone who doesn’t even care about me the same way.” He exhaled sharply, his hands trembling. “But it doesn’t matter. James is dating Lily. It’s over before it even started.”
Sirius’s gaze softened, but his voice was firm. “Reg, you can’t just give up like that. You have to do something about it. If you love him, you can’t just sit back and pretend it’s nothing. You’ve got to fight for it.”
Regulus’s temper flared. “What the hell do you know about love? You’ve never been in a situation like this.”
Sirius’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. “Don’t act like I don’t know what it’s like to fell for someone and have them not feel the same way. I’ve been there, too. But you can’t just run away from it. You need to figure out what you want before it eats you alive.”
The tension in the room thickened, the argument escalating with each passing moment. Regulus felt himself becoming overwhelmed, the frustration mounting. “I don’t need you to tell me what to do, Sirius! I don’t even know what’s going on anymore. One minute I think I can handle this, and the next... I’m falling apart.”
Sirius’s expression softened, his voice quieter. “Reg, I just don’t want you to lose yourself in this. You deserve more than to just sit there and watch someone else have the happiness you want. If you really love him, you owe it to yourself to at least try.”
Regulus’s anger simmered down as he looked at his brother, the words sinking in. It felt like a weight lifting from his chest, as if Sirius’s unwavering belief in him was a lifeline. The reality of what he was feeling didn’t change, but for the first time, he felt a little less alone in it.
“I don’t know if I can do it,” Regulus muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Sirius stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to do it alone. I’m here. Always.”
Regulus nodded, the heaviness in his chest easing, even if just for a moment. The argument had brought them closer, not just in understanding, but in the bond they shared. Even in the midst of all the uncertainty, Sirius was still his brother—and that was enough for now.