Chapter 3
Euphemia shares a love of old films with Regulus. The pair has spent all day on the couch together. Gully delivers free flowing snacks frequently. The comfort food soothes the open wound the Cruciatus Curse made on his soul. Regulus doesn’t think he’s eaten as much fulfilling food since Sirius started at Hogwarts. Now, he is beginning to suspect that overfeeding him is a ploy to corner him, metaphorically.
“So,” Mrs. Potter exaggerates, “What are you going to do now?” The television is turned down quiet enough in volume that they can talk amongst themselves without fighting to be heard. Regulus is much more inclined to strain to hear the telly than listen to Euphemia right now. He knows what ‘What now?’ means. He knows he’s supposed to want to figure that out. The thing is, he doesn’t. Regulus much rather go home and deal with his parents than start over. He misses his bed.
Regulus chews on his lip nervously. Euphemia clears her throat. “No pressure, hun. I just want you safe and happy.” She affirms. A thousand different possibilities race through Regulus' mind. “I-I think I want to talk to my parents again.” his voice is washed of all posh linguistics. He sounds his actual age. Euphemia eyes widen and sadden. “Regulus, you know you can’t go back there now. With everything we know-”
“Not back back. I mean, to visit. I need money and stuff if I’m going to be on my own.” Regulus explains. Euphemia purses her lips. “Sirius doesn’t-” she starts
“And that’s great! Brilliant. I just- I don’t want to be trapped again.” He says in a small, shy voice he would never admit to. “You won’t stay?” A masculine voice says.
Regulus doesn’t need to turn around to recognise Fleamont’s voice. He’s adjusted to the mans’ voice. Something he is quite proud of. Regulus shrugs. “I’ll need a place to stay but I can’t in good conscience rely on you like my brother does.” He straightens. “I am not Sirius.” He states firmly. Euphemia quickly nods. Fleamont hesitates. He perches himself on the arm of the sofa. “To emancipate you’ll need to go before the Ministry.” Fleamont explains. Regulus restrains an eye roll. He knows that will throw a wrench in his plans. The Ministry Of Magic is equally divided into two categories. Slytherins and Gryffindors. The Slytherins will never believe or approve his case. Half the Slytherins of the Ministry were present at the time he was kicked out. The Gryffindors are wild cards.
That’s why Regulus dislikes Gryffindor House as a whole. They try to hide their prejudice against Slytherins. Whereas Slytherins wear their disdain for the red and yellow house on their sleeve. Regulus is close with some Gryffindors. Ones which don’t judge him for being a Slytherin and don’t brag about being a Gryfffindor. Not like the Potters. The Black family is the most notorious Slytherin family. The Potters' polar opposites. Except for Sirius Black, Regulus’ brother. The first Gryffindor Black to attend Hogwarts. Sirius’ open loyalty to Gryffindor House eventually led him to the Potters’ Floo all those nights ago. Now, he’s basically an adoptive member of the Potters.
Regulus doesn’t want to be the same. That’s why he must emancipate. “I’m sure my last name will pull strings with the Ministry.” Regulus sips the tea Gully brought a few hours ago. Euphemia placed a heating charm on the teapot but not the cups themselves. His tea is room temperature. Regulus cringes and mutters an incantation under his breath. The tea heats up. Steam rises from the cup. Euphemia and Fleamont gawk as Regulus takes a tentative drink of the liquid. “You can do wandless magic?!” Euphemia exclaims. Regulus shrugs, bashful of his abilities. At home wandless magic became the expectation when he turned sixteen. His mother had taken his wand and required him to perform numerous different spells. He has only been practising for a few months so he’s only perfected small spells.
Fleamont recovers and stares at his wife. Silent words pass between them. Regulus again feels like he’s intending. He would leave the happy couple if he had more confidence in his ability to walk. Euphemia hums positively and addresses Regulus. “We’ll help you with the legal stuff so you can focus on school.” She smiles. Fleamont makes a noise of agreement. Regulus is internally cursing. School. What is he going to do about school? He shares a dorm with two other boys. Bartemius Crouch Jr., the minister's kid, and Evan Rosier, Regulus’ distant relative. “The boys told us you are taking a mix of Year 6 and 7 courses now.” Fleamont tries to lighten the topic. Regulus nods slowly. He is a year ahead in everything related to Dark Arts, Potions, and Transfiguration. He has tested out of Astronomy and Arithmancy. He is top of his class in Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, History of Magic, and Divination. Surprisingly, Barty is his only real competition in Year 6 classes. His dorm mate is in advanced classes with him as well.
Still, Regulus is kind of surprised that Mr. and Mrs. Potter know about that. His reputation as one of the most talented wizards of his age proceeds him. It's surreal. He converses with Euphemia and Fleamont about his schooling until Gully announces dinner is ready. Euphemia waves her wand and a rush of healing magic flows through Regulus again. “Do you think you can stand now, love?” The kind woman asks softly. Regulus braces himself on the couch. His feet touch the ground. He rocks back and forth, building up the momentum to stand. When Regulus does make it to his feet, he overshoots and almost crashes through the glass coffee table. Euphemia stops him before that can happen and guides him over to the dining room.
The Potter’s dining room is nowhere near as extravagant as the Black’s. The table is small with a divide down the middle where it can be separated and an insert can be placed in between the two ends to make a larger table. The room feels more used though; more lived-in. There are four seats at the table. Regulus assumes the other two chairs are for James and Sirius. Euphemia informs Regulus that the two have gone on a camping trip this week. They’ll be home in two days. Regulus waits for Euphemia and Fleamont to take their seats. Euphemia points with her fork to the chair across from her. Regulus wordlessly sits.
Dinner is served. It’s a small portion of wild rice, steamed peas and carrots, and three triangular pieces of something unfamiliar. Regulus doesn’t ask any questions. He never was allowed to speak during dinner at home. Euphemia speaks up. “They’re beef samosas. We didn’t know what you’d like so Gully threw some odds and ends together.” She says casually. Regulus hums and pokes one of the samosas with his fork. A chuckle falls from Fleamont at the motion. The man leans forward and pours two glasses of water. “Finger foods, son.” Fleamont sets one of the glasses at the top of Regulus’ plate. Regulus tries not to gawk as Fleamont disregards his utensils and picks up one of the samosas on his plate.
“So Regulus,” Euphemia dabs the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “Where are you planning to go once you’re emancipated?” She sips her water. Regulus pushes around a singular pea on his plate. ‘Don’t play with your food!’ His mothers’ phantom yelling rings in his ears. He quickly eats the pea, hoping no one noticed. To distract him from unpleasant memories, Regulus answers Euphemia. “That depends. Am I welcome here?” He might be pushing by asking that. He also isn’t sure how he feels about being surrounded by Gryffidors all the time. His brother already spies on him at school. Honestly, it would be embarrassing if Sirius didn’t have a knack for quick escapes.
“Of course! The more the merrier!” Euphemia cheers. Fleamont smiles. “We have secretly been hoping you’d follow your brother here once he ran away.” He shoves another biteful of rice into his mouth. Regulus’ eyes widen unconsciously. Fleamont laughs and sits back in his chair. “It’s true. We even have your room ready.” Euphemia adds. Regulus’ stomach turns. The food smells divine but he can’t eat. The weight of his decision fully sinks in. His parents definitely have the legal power to take him and Sirius back.
No, no, no. NO! Regulus pushes his chair back. It scratches along the floor. Regulus tries to escape to the next room but his legs give out under him. He lets out a choked sob. He can no longer hold back the years worth of tears that weigh on him. Regulus hasn’t cried since he was little. Now, it's like the floodgates are open. His breath comes out rapidly and uncontrollable. Two other chairs scrape along the floor. Euphemia’s voice is gentle and soothing. Fleamont is yelling, panickedly. Apologies bubble in Regulus' throat but he can’t get a sound out. Everything feels like he’s in one of those playground plastic bubbles.
A hand rubs his back but Regulus flinches from the touch. Another set of hands come into view and Regulus braces for a hit. He can’t let his parents have Sirius. His brother won’t survive it. Regulus was always good at staying quiet and putting on a facade to pander to his parents. Sirius never could. He was obnoxious and openly despised all authority. Sirius was always looking for trouble. Especially once he was sorted into Gryffindor. When Sirius ran away, Regulus became the only heir to the House Of Black. He had accepted his future as a Death Eater and went along with the blood supremacist ideals of his family’s inner circle.
Regulus passes out mummering apologies and shedding wave after wave of tears.