Brother, son.
REGULUS
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As a child, on his worst days, Regulus would sometimes secretly wish he was the abused son, and not the neglected one. Sirius was the first born- the heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, and its magic and its fortune and its status. Regulus was not. Regulus was no one. Sirius needed to be perfect, and Walburga and Orion would “discipline” him however they deemed necessary in order to mould him into their impossible standard of perfection. And he would always defy them at every opportunity. Regulus wouldn’t have, if he’d have been given the chance. Regulus would have been the perfect pureblood heir, if it meant his parents had acknowledged his existence from time to time.
Sirius was the only one who ever mattered. Walburga and Orion praised his achievements with subtle and dignified pride, or else would scream at him or hit him or curse him for his flaws. They never screamed at Regulus, or hit him, or cursed him. They were never proud of him. He would do everything in his power to outshine Sirius in every endeavour. If his parents approved of Sirius’ progress on the piano, then Regulus would learn to play a more advanced and impressive piece. If their tutor applauded Sirius’ fluency in Latin, Regulus would attempt to demonstrate his superiority by learning German in addition to the compulsory Latin, French, and Romanian requirements. It was all to no avail. There was nothing Regulus could ever do to capture the positive attention of his parents. So, Regulus started acting out. He would break things and refuse to do his school work and talk back to his mother, just like Sirius did. He had expected his mother to yell at or hit him. A part of him had hoped for that, because at least then her eyes would be on him for once. But no. Walburga cast a silencing spell over Regulus and told Kreacher to lock him in his bedroom. She didn’t even glance at him at the time. She was too busy pulling at Sirius’ hair as punishment for his latest transgression, whatever that was. Walburga never came for him. She never reversed the spell. Regulus would probably still be mute if Sirius hadn’t managed to reverse it for him. His parents would have forgotten they even had a second child.
Sirius was the heir, and Regulus was the spare. Sirius was literally the brightest star, and Regulus was just a part of some constellation. His star didn’t even matter on its own, only as part of its family.
Sirius lived in the flames, forever burning out under the heat of their parents’ scrutiny. Regulus lived in the shadow thrown out by the fire. He never knew warmth, except when he was alone with Sirius.
Technically speaking, Regulus had been raised by Kreacher and his Au Pair, Omalaine. They had been the ones to feed and bathe and clothe him. But it was Sirius who had taught him how to ride a broom, and Sirius who had sung him lullabies, and Sirius who had read him Tales from Beedle the Bard. And still, Regulus had always felt suffocated by his jealousy for his brother. As a young boy, Regulus couldn’t understand why Walburga and Orion cared about every single thing in Sirius’ life, but never about anything in his own. But he knew it wasn’t Sirius’ fault, not really. Sirius would have gladly switched places with Regulus if it was at all possible. They were always very close as kids, at least when Walburga and Orion weren’t around. No matter what, Sirius was always there for Regulus. Until, suddenly, he wasn’t.
Sirius left for Hogwarts, and Regulus was left in the cold, empty house alone. His parents were rarely ever there. They spent most of their time away on “business”, staying at different Black family estates scattered across the French countryside. Regulus and Sirius wrote to each other every week during their year of separation. Sirius’ letters would be pages long, his messy scrawl detailing his exciting adventures with James Potter, and his invigorating quidditch games, and his fascinating classes. Regulus’ response was never more than a couple of lines, dictated in perfect cursive. There was never much to report from Grimmauld Place, so Regulus would usually just comment on a few of Sirius’ updates. Regulus was lonely, and he couldn’t wait until he would get the chance to go to Hogwarts, and be around his brother again.
Regulus had gone to Hogwarts the following year, and had been sorted into Slytherin, and for the first time in his life, his parents had praised him. They had written to him and told him they were proud of him continuing the Black family legacy where Sirius had failed to. They had recognised him as their son, and Regulus started craving their attention and approval more than ever before. Sirius continued to disappoint Walburga and Orion by associating with blood traitors and muggleborns. So Regulus stopped talking to him. He avoided his brother at all costs. He refused to be tarnished by Sirius, not when their parents had only just accepted him as their own.
There was a time when Sirius and Regulus had been as close as two brothers could be. They were each other’s only friends, and each other’s only family. They were inseparable. And then Sirius went to Hogwarts and left Regulus alone. And then Sirius ran away and got himself a new, better brother by the name of James Potter, and left Regulus alone. And then Sirius went missing, and left Regulus alone again.
It had been a year since he had last seen Sirius. He resented him for leaving without a word. But he missed him. Oh, Regulus missed Sirius so much. He was haunted by his last words to his brother. Sirius had saved him from Severus Snape’s relentless bullying, and Regulus had called Sirius a blood traitor. He’d said he didn’t need him. He had lied. Regulus was always lying. Of course he needed Sirius. He would never need anyone or anything like he needed his brother. He should have taken it back. Should’ve gone and apologised to Sirius and made things right between them.
But he didn’t, and then it was too late. Two days later, Severus was dead and Potter was destroyed and Remus was arrested and Sirius was missing.
He had pushed his brother away, and he would probably never see him again.
Exactly a year after Sirius went missing, Regulus was sitting in the Great Hall with Barty, Evan and Dorcas, dwelling miserably on his older brother’s disappearance. Professor Slughorn approached them at the Slytherin Table. The short man was sweating a little and wobbling slightly, giving him a frantic and guilty look.
“Mister Black, please accompany me to Headmaster Dumbledore’s office.” Professor Slughorn said.
Regulus glanced around at his friends. They’d been getting into their fair share of trouble over the past year, but he couldn’t think of anything that might have alerted the teachers to their transgressions. And if they were going to get him into trouble for something, well Barty and Evan would definitely have been escorted away too.
“Alright, sir.” Regulus said cautiously before following Slughorn down the hallway. They stopped outside Dumbledore’s office, and Slughorn did something very uncharacteristic. He patted Regulus’ shoulder in an unusual fatherly gesture, gave him a sad smile, and departed back down the hall. Before Regulus could really consider this, the door to Dumbledore’s office swung open in invitation.
“Come in, my boy, come in.” Dumbledore called out. His voice lacked its usually merry sing-song tone. He gestured for Regulus to sit in the comfy chair across from his desk, and waved his wand for a kettle to start pouring some tea for the both of them. Dumbledore watched with beady eyes as Regulus took a small sip to be polite.
“Regulus, I have some sorrowful news.” Dumbledore exhaled , his eyes never leaving Regulus’ face. The old man was silent for an excruciatingly long time.
“Sir?” Regulus prompted, and Dumbledore blinked at him in surprise, like he’d forgotten he was even there.
“I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, my boy, but there has been a terrible tragedy at your family home in Grimmauld Place...Your parents, Regulus. They were found dead this morning. Murdered. I’m terribly sorry, child. Terribly so.”
Regulus didn’t respond. He hadn’t heard Dumbledore correctly. For a moment, he’d thought he had said that his parents were dead. That would be impossible. Regulus saw them for the Christmas break only two days ago. They were fine, then. Just their usual, horrible selves. It was inconceivable that they could be alive then, and dead now. Just like that.
“That’s not all, Regulus.” Dumbdledore continued, cautiously. “We have reason to suspect your brother was behind the attacks. A muggle neighbour said she saw someone matching Sirius’ physical description walking down your street, not long before the bodies were found.”
That got Regulus’ attention. Sirius. Someone had seen someone who looked like Sirius in Grimmauld Place. And then his parents had been killed. Of course. If anyone would even dare to try and kill Walburga and Orion Black, it would be their first born son. It made perfect sense. Regulus didn’t know how to feel about this news. His immediate thought was that he should be at least a little bit affected by the sudden passing of his mother and father, but this revelation took a backseat to the relief coming from knowing Sirius was alive.
“Regulus, be honest with me. How do you feel about Sirius, and about this news?” Dumbledore questioned, his voice steady but inquisitive.
“I need to find my brother, Professor.” Regulus said simply. He stared at Dumbledore with ferocity, like he could crack him open and find Sirius locked inside the elderly mans’ skull.
“Understandable, Regulus. But we believe Sirius is in grave danger. I’m sure you are aware of your parents’ affiliation with Voldemort?”
Regulus just nods at him, willing him to go on, to rip the bandaid off in one go instead of these small increments of pain.
“Sirius will be targeted now. It is my understanding that your parents were both part of Voldemort’s inner circle. Certainly the death eaters and Voldemort himself will be looking to avenge them.”
“No!” Regulus cried out abruptly, fear sweeping through him at the thought of death eaters hunting down his older brother. “No sir, please! There must be something we can do to help him. To protect him from them.”
“Regulus, I’m sorry dear boy, there is simply nothing we can do. I have no access to Voldemort’s associates or plans. Perhaps if I had someone on the inside we could arrange protections for Sirius, but alas…” Dumbledore trailed off, shrugging his shoulders helplessly.
And then the real reason for this whole conversation dawned on Regulus. Dumbledore didn’t really care about Sirius, he just needed a soldier on the Dark Side, and knew Regulus would be the perfect candidate.
Regulus hated the idea of being Dumbledore’s puppet. If the Professor thought he would be able to manipulate him, he was wrong. Not to mention the danger. If he was caught by Voldemort, he risked a fate worse than death. But he couldn’t see any reasonable alternative to help Sirius. He would risk it all for his brother.
“Mister Black, you are smart enough to know what I need from you. I realise this is a very insensitive time to ask you for a favour, but I cannot stress enough how important this is.” Dumbledore said calmly, staring into Regulus’ eyes with the hunger of a predator spying its next meal.
“I am in desperate need of an inconspicuous pair of eyes and ears within the death eaters. I need to be able to predict Voldemort’s moves, and you need to protect your brother. I promise to help you with that. So, my boy, what do you say?” Dumbledore’s eyes had a satisfactory glint to them, like he knew he had already won.
Regulus waited for a moment, just to make Dumbledore believe he was actually considering other options. There was no choice, not really. Regulus would be Dumbledore’s spy, and he would find Sirius. He would keep him alive, and they would be brothers again.
Regulus leaned over the desk to shake Dumbledore’s outstretched hand. “We have a deal.”