The air was thick with the smell of damp earth and autumn leaves as Sirius crouched low behind the crumbling stone wall, his breath visible in the chill of the evening. The meeting was supposed to be starting soon. He could feel the tension rolling off James beside him, the usually cheerful Potter uncharacteristically quiet as they waited for the signal. Somewhere to their left, Remus was positioned near the entrance, his sharp senses attuned to any movement, while Peter lingered further back, keeping an eye on their escape route.
Sirius shifted uncomfortably, the dull ache in his knees a distant second to the knot in his stomach. He wasn’t sure if it was anticipation or dread. Probably both.
“You good, Padfoot?” James murmured under his breath, not looking at him but instead staring into the dark clearing ahead, his wand clutched tightly in his hand.
“Yeah,” Sirius lied, though his jaw clenched involuntarily. He was far from good.
The intelligence from the Order had been sparse—an intercepted message, vague and cryptic, hinting at a gathering of several young Death Eaters at an old hunting lodge deep in the forest. The names Regulus Black, Evan Rosier and Barty Crouch Jr. had been mentioned, though there were likely more. For Sirius, one name on that list stood out like a curse. His younger brother.
The idea of Regulus being here–actively plotting with Voldemort’s followers–made Sirius’ blood boil and his heart ache in equal measure. It had been years since they had spoken properly, years since their last bitter argument and the moment Sirius had walked out of Grimmauld Place for good. But even with everything between them, a part of Sirius had clung to the hope that Regulus wasn’t too far gone, that the boy who used to follow him around like a shadow wasn’t truly lost to the Dark.
“Movement,” Came Remus’ soft voice from the left.
Sirius’ head snapped up. Through the tangle of skeletal branches, he could see the faint glow of wandlight bobbing through the woods. Shadowy figures emerged, their murmured voices indistinct but unmistakably wary.
“There,” James whispered, nudging Sirius and nodding towards the group as they approached the lodge. “That’s them.”
Sirius squinted, his breath hitching as his eyes caught a familiar figure among the group. Regulus’ hood was drawn up, but Sirius would have recognized the sharp tilt of his brother’s chin and the way he carried himself anywhere. He was there when Walburga made sure Regulus walked like that. He had seen the damage it was doing to Regulus.
He suddenly felt a surge of emotions—anger, regret, guilt—colliding violently in his chest.
“Right,” James said quietly, his tone all serious now. “We stick to the plan. I’ll try to get close and overhear what I can. Moony—”
“I’ve got the perimeter,” Remus interjected, his gaze flickering towards Sirius, who hadn’t moved.
“Padfoot, you good to—?”
“I’ve got it,” Sirius sneered, cutting Remus off. He couldn’t let them see how unsteady he felt.
“I’ll..- I’ll deal with Regulus.”
James shot him a look, equal parts concern and warning, but there was no time to argue. The Death Eaters were already slipping inside the lodge, their voices fading as the heavy door creaked shut behind them.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” James muttered, before moving towards the shadows.
Sirius watched him go, his heart pounding. He tightened the grip on his wand and drew a steadying breath. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to Regulus when they came face-to-face—or whether he was even prepared to hear what Regulus might say in return. But there was no turning back now.
As Sirius crept towards the lodge, his footsteps muffled by the soft earth, he felt the weight of a dozen choices pressing on his shoulder. Family. Loyalty. Betrayal. Redemption
And somewhere in the chaos, a brother he wasn’t ready to lose.
The lodge loomed ahead, its weathered timbers dark against the moonlight. Sirius slipped through the shadows, his movements silent–just like he used to walk around Grimmauld Place.
A million questions and half-formed arguments were running through his mind, what was he going to say when he saw his little brother again.
He could feel the pressure of the enchantments in the air as he approached, wards carefully laid to keep intruders out—or perhaps to keep the occupants in. Typical Death Eater paranoia.
From his position near a cracked window, Sirius could make out muffled voices. He leaned closer, the wood rough against his gloved hands.
“...the new directions come straight from him this time,” someone was saying, their voice low and cold.
Sirius recognized it almost immediately, how could he not. Evan Rosier.
“But why here?” That was Barty Crouch Jr., his tone sharp with impatience. “The place is exposed. The Ministry’s presence in this region–”
“–is irrelevant,” Evan cut in smoothly. “He knows what he’s doing, Crouch. Or do you fancy questioning the Dark Lord yourself?”
The room fell silent at that, save for the occasional crackle of the fire. Sirius’ gaze flicked across the figures inside. Evan sat with the same arrogant ease he would always show at Hogwarts, while Barty paced near the fireplace, restless, bored and agitated. In the corner, Regulus stood apart, his face shadowed, his hands clasped behind his back as if trying to appear disinterested. But Sirius knew his brother well enough to recognize the tension in his posture.
He’s not happy to be there, Sirius thought, though he couldn’t be sure whether that observation offered relief or frustration.
“Enough!” Regulus suddenly spoke up, his voice calm but firm. The others turned towards him, and Sirius held his breath. “The Dark Lord has entrusted us with this task, and we will finish it. Bickering over the location we are right now won’t change that.”
There was a beat of silence before Barty smirked. “Look at little Reggie, giving orders now. Didn’t know you had it in you.” he said with a slight mock.
Regulus cursed internally, but didn’t show it. His expression remained neutral. “Are we finished here? Or is there more to discuss?”
Evan waved his hand dismissively, he knew that Barty and Regulus could clash if he let it get out of hand. “Fine. Fine. Crouch, make sure the wards hold. Black, you’re on retrieval. The rest of us will coordinate from the safe house.”
Retrieval. The word sent a jolt through Sirius. What were they retrieving? He strained to hear more, but the conversation devolved into hushed murmurs, too low to decipher.
He pulled back from the window, his mind racing. Whatever they were planning, it wasn’t good. He needed to get back to James and Remus—but not yet. Not before he confronted Regulus.
Sirius circled the lodge, careful to stay out of sight. The faint light spilling from a side door caught his eye. It opened with a creak, and Regulus stepped out… alone. His face was unreadable as he scanned the forest. Sirius didn’t hesitate. He stepped out of the shadows, his wand raised.
“Regulus.”
His brother froze, his hand twitching towards his pocket before his eyes locked onto Sirius’. For a moment, the years fell away. The boy who used to cling to Sirius’ sleeve and beg to tag along on adventures was still there, buried beneath the layers of cold indifference.
Regulus wanted to tell Sirius to help him, to take him away, to tell him he was sorry, that he needed him.
“Sirius,” Was what came out, his voice carefully neutral. He didn’t reach for his wand but he didn’t give in to relaxation. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same,” Sirius shot back, his tone sharper than he intended. It wasn’t a different tone than Regulus was used to with Sirius anyway. “Though I think I already know. Fetching ornaments for your master now, are you?”
Regulus’ expression darkened. “You don’t understand.” he hissed quietly.
“Then explain it to me,” Sirius urged, stepping closer to Regulus. “Explain to me how the brother I grew up with turned into this.” he gestured towards the clothing Regulus was wearing and the lodge, his voice rising but not loud enough to alert others. “Explain to me how you can stand there and call him your master while he tears apart everything decent in this god-forsaken world!”
Regulus’ jaw tightened, but he kept looking at Sirius. “It’s not that simple, Sirius. You think walking away solves everything? You think defying him doesn’t come with consequences?”
“Spare me the excuses,” Sirius snarled, waving his hand dismissively. “You made your choice, Reg. Just like I made mine.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was thick with years of resentment and things left unsaid.
“Do you think I want this?” Regulus’ voice eventually broke the tension, quieter now but edged with something raw. “Do you think I don’t know what he is? What he’s doing?”
“Then why!?” Sirius demanded, “Why stay? Why fight for him?”
Regulus hesitated, his gaze dropped to the ground. “Because someone has to know how to stop him,” he finally managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper.
Sirius blinked, taken aback. “What-what are you talking about?”
But before Regulus could answer, a sharp crack echoed through the forest. Both brothers turned, wands raised, as the door to the lodge burst open.
“Sirius!” James’ voice called out, panic laced through the shout. “We’ve got company—move!”
Sirius grabbed Regulus’ arm, his grip tight. “You’re coming with me,” he said, his voice hard.
But Regulus yanked his arm free, his expression torn. “I can’t.”
“Regulus—”
“Go, Sirius,” Regulus said, backing away. His wand was raised now, but it wasn’t aimed at Sirius.
“Please.” his voice was broken, he wanted to go with Sirius, he didn’t want to be there but he had to give his brother a way out without them dying.
And then he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Sirius standing there, his heart pounding and his mind reeling as chaos erupted around him.
What did Regulus mean by someone needing to know how to stop him? Why did Regulus not go with him?