pages of poetry

Regulus wasn't new to his family being rotten.

He had grown around screams and violence, and much preferred to keep himself out of it, as much as he could that is.
His stupid brother Sirius had some hero complex to protect the both of them, which normally resulted in him taking the brunt of his mother's discipline.

He had never really learnt to fight back, never saw the use in it, because of how he saw Sirius. he had learnt how to shut down completely and imagine you were inanimate, to sneak out from his mother's dangerous afflictions. He had discovered, from a very young age, to leave the acting out to his older brother.

That changed when Sirius got his Hogwarts letter.

His older brother had packed his bags, given his brother a tight squeeze, and a promise to write every day had left him on the station platform, walking over to a carriage, and waving through the window at his stern mother, and baby brother. He had officially left him behind.

The last regulus saw of his brother, before Christmas came, was him walking through a door, shaking hands with a tanned boy with dark waves, and silly round glasses, and a small stout boy already seated in the compartment, as well as some younger boy tucked away in the corner. He didn't even look behind to say goodbye to Regulus as the train went.

The black manor had never felt so cold, so empty without his older brother. Since the brothers had shared one of the biggest rooms in the house, seeing the empty bed, and spaces created by his posters taken down to move to his new room, the room fell silent.

But Regulus could feel everything. He could taste the particles of air, surrounding his skin, breaching his body as he needed to breathe, in and out. The only thing to distract him was to sit up on his brother's desk, and open his thick (and quite dusty) charms books that his parents had given the boy to 'be ahead of his peers, and show them who the Black family was'. Knowing this, these books had never been opened, spine still intact, pages unread, knowledge waiting in between the covers.

With enough scavenging, Regulus had found an old wand hidden in one of the ancient cupboards of the black house. He knew that without the right wand, his spells would be less powerful, and not work with his magic as well, but Regulus sought to prove to his parents he was strong. Any signs of weakness would send you right to Walburga's wrath.
So whilst he waited for Sirius to send a letter detailing his time at his new fancy boarding school, Regulus opened the first page and learnt how to create light.

His charms lessons had proven to be quite useful, even though he was certainly breaching many wizarding laws, The black manor wards held enough power that the spellcasting couldn't be noticed. The Lumos charm had sent Regulus into a spiral of secret rebellion, as he poured through the pages and pages of spells. He dared not to show his progress to his mother, hoping that when he would arrive at Hogwarts himself, his mother would see his natural skill towards the spells. His teachers would sing praise at him.
~
Soon enough, a tall dark owl arrived outside the window Regulus spent his days working at, with his long-awaited letter. Sirius.
His brother, on a large piece of parchment, had explained he was put into the lion house, of chivalry, braveness and courage. He noted that his mother had been furious since being in 'Gryffindor' had ruined the family's reputation. Their mother had sent Sirius a howler on the second day of school, and Sirius told his little brother how the whole row of tables had looked at Sirius, as he shrugged and laughed at his mother's antics.

He told Regulus of his new friends, 3 boys he shared his dorm room with.

It had taken a day or two for Sirius to replace his brother.

His dorm mates matched the descriptions of the boys interrupting him on the day he left on the train, one boy, Sirius described as "a bit strange, he keeps to himself and has got really short hair and some funny accent. Not to imagine the amount of scars the guy's got, blimey they didn't even aim away from his face!" The blacks were no strangers to scars. Even though Sirius took the brunt of it, even Reg had marks on his hands, and sometimes arms, from disobeying his mother. His were quick though, spells designed to scar, not bleed.

Sirius reminded him to be good, and keep speaking his french at home, because "c'était tellement drôle quand je parlais français aux autres, ils me regardaient come si j'étais un extraterrestre" and that way, whenever the brothers spoke to each other they had a secret language.

Regulus had put down the letter not much longer after, reading Sirius' instructions on how to write a letter back and send it via the owl that was still waiting, perched on his windowsill. Not wanting his mother to emerge into the room, and see Regulus write a letter, and send it through an owl, he cast a quick locking charm on his bedroom door. Those charms lessons had proved useful.
To be fair, he had skimmed the pages, only truly working at getting better at the useful ones. Once he had managed to do some of the others and render them useless, he left them to come back later.

He used a quick Alohomora on the particularly stuck drawer that held Sirius' parchment and quills. He must've taken those from his father's study once, Regulus could recall the family crest embedded on the papers.

The patriarch of the Black House was less scary than their mother. He had been the one to teach the boys French, refusing to speak to them in any other language until they became fluent. He would also ignore anything they would say unless it was French, meaning they were very good at asking for help in the other language.

It took Reg a while to work the old quill, dipping it into the small pot of ink, and testing the angles of holding the feather to paper, and writing on the parchment. He updated Sirius on home life, not being able to say much. Mealtimes lacked any interesting conversation, especially any directed at him. He had asked his father about some books he could use, so he could 'be better than my peers', and his father had relayed the comment to his mother, not wanting to act out under the matriarch's control. Her smile, as twisted as it looked on her face, was present as she approved of his will to learn. She promised to begin lessons for him soon, and he may as well be 'better than your silly brother' because it wasn't always the first child that became the heir.

He commented about Sirius' new friends, trying to hide the distaste in his tone. He had heard his mother complain about the lack of purity in his brother's life, and she had mentioned for Regulus to 'make some new connections before school to make sure it doesn't happen again'. Sirius was right in thinking his mother wasn't pleased he was in Gryffindor, and she would do anything in her power to ensure his brother didn't live the same fate.

But Regulus had to be supportive. At least Sirius had a new life to live.

He wrapped up his letter, not daring to try the wax, inexperienced with fire and candles yet. He tied the paper firmly with an old ribbon lying around and flicked the pages of his book to find a security charm so it would only open in his brothers' hands, and would make its way to him. When he failed to find a charm that would fit and didn't want to risk sealing it shut forever, he sent the letter back on its way, hoping for the best.

He put away the parchment, not wanting anyone to discover the stolen pages, but curiosity sparked his attention as he found a little black notebook, sitting under the pages.

He opened the band holding the covers together, reading the title in his brother's messy scrawl:

'pages of poetry'

The following papers had small excerpts of terribly written lines that Regulus cherished.

He spent that night staying awake, under the light of his first charm, reading the little lines over and over again, 'till they were memorised.

"we're just kids. We aren't supposed to be heroes.
but I will fight if it means I am able to save you."

Once fatigue was pulling so hard on his eyes that he couldn't see the words lining the page, he folded it back together and put the little book under his pillow.

It was Regulus' now.