Prologue
Reality is a funny thing, isn’t it? It seems so solid, so factual, so objective. So straightforward- if you have the tools to understand it. And yet, it is anything but solid. It twists and turns as one weaves it, as it flows between your fingers and pulls the ground from beneath your feet.
In truth, reality is nothing but an idea, and the idea of ‘reality’ is anything but real.
These are the very foundations of a witch.
You see, witches bind everything to their will. They are a part of nature itself. Witches do not have any real gender, or DNA. In fact, all witches past the age of twelve can tell you confidently that ‘family’ is a very beautiful hoax, although that may have more than the issue of DNA tied into it. When a witch calls, the winds come. When a witch sends forth, every creature goes to deliver the message. When a witch bleeds, the skies weep. But what happens when a witch loves? That is the question.
Witches, at least these witches, very rarely love. They certainly never love each other. Witches are built on power and preserving the world around them. In fact, they are quite old-fashioned. Children are only to preserve the bloodline. Marriage and friendships are nothing more than carefully drawn alliances. On the rare occasion that a witch does fall in love, truly fall in love, it is most often with a human.
Oh yes, there are humans too, silly creatures though they may be. Humans are filled with love. That is their very purpose, to love the world and be loved. And so of course, when a witch catches sight of a human, both are pulled in like a moth to a flame.
The problem with humans and witches, however, is that they corrupt one another. A witch learns to love, and a human learns to hate. And so the witches hid among themselves, fearing this light. They came together one night in the woods, when all the humans were sleeping. They raised their arms to the sky and cast perhaps some of the most powerful magic to have ever come into existence. A barrier formed at the line of trees a little way away from the village, one that no witch or human could cross. The witches in the forest did not dare try, but if ever a human came wandering, a wave of mist would cover and twist their senses until they were walking back the way they came.
The cold, powerful nature of the witch always prevails.
Humans were not so lucky with their own nature. Dark forces spread through the fabrics of their souls. War, anger, and chaos emerged. Humanity has never quite been the same.
Regardless, their love would always hang on.
~~~
Our story, dear reader, blooms from a particular family of witches. Not just any family of witches, mind you. Our story blooms from the most noble and ancient House of Black.
It starts very simply. Two boys are born to a hateful mother, one who never experienced the love of the human world. Regulus Arcturus Black and Sirius Orion Black, born to the Archdruid Walburga Black, one of the very witches who had risen the barrier from the ground. The boys grew up together, and against all odds, they learned to love. They loved each other in ways the world could never understand. The elder, Sirius, did his best to protect his little brother from the hate of their world. He took their mother’s glares, and her harsh words, and soon her harsher punishments. In a similar manner, Regulus worshipped Sirius as his everything.
In little Regulus’s opinion, the world was good so long as Sirius could smile at him. When the punishments were especially bad, Regulus bandaged his brother’s wounds (if there were any – some witches could cause excruciating harm without leaving a drop of blood). Regulus brought Sirius food, and water, and hugged him until they both fell asleep.
This untainted love could not last forever, though. Soon, Sirius had formed such a hatred for their mother that he did everything in his power to tempt her anger, far more than simple teenage rebellion. He took worsening punishments, day after day. Regulus, born out of his own care, began to resent his brother. Had he no self-preservation? Did he not care if he lived or died? Regulus certainly cared, but this did not seem to matter to Sirius.
Around the age of twelve, Regulus began to stray from his brother’s side. He stopped bringing Sirius food in the dead of night, when Sirius was not supposed to be eating. He turned his eye when his brother took a hit for some stupid comment. The consequences of Sirius’s stupidity were not for Regulus to take care of, not anymore, and then Sirius responded in kind. His rebellions grew worse. He was rarely at home, out with some friend or other he picked up. He still took punishments for Regulus, but this seemed only to make Regulus angry.
Regulus began to look to his mother. He followed her commands, cut away the parts of himself she deemed ugly. He molded himself to her will, without mistakes or noise. If Sirius was going to be hurt, it would not be on Regulus’s behalf. He had hoped Sirius would see and understand that Regulus did not want him hurt. If they simply adjusted, they would be okay. That was Regulus’s hope, and he tried to express it again and again. Sirius did not seem to listen.
In the end, all of Regulus’s efforts resulted in one thing: Sirius could no longer smile at him.
~~~
Everything came crashing down one particular night in the dead of winter. At around midnight, a bloodied and nearly dead Sirius burst from the door of the house of the Black family, Grimmauld Place. He ran and ran and ran for a very long time, never stopping. His mother did not run after him. Neither did Regulus.
Instead, Regulus sat on a floor covered in his brother’s blood, staring off into the distance. He did not know what happened, where Sirius was going, or if he would ever come back. All he knew was that he wanted his brother, desperately, more than he wanted anything. He didn’t want his mother, or a friend, or sleep, or his own life. All he wanted was his brother. And he knew that if his brother had any sense, if for once he would only understand what was good for him, Sirius would never come back.
Kneeling on the floor, staring off into the distance, Regulus found himself thinking over and over again, don’t come back, don’t come back, please, don’t come back.
Ten minutes after his brother had left the house, a shot of light struck the sky. Regulus was brought momentarily out of his shocked state, wondering what it could be. He thought it must be off towards the end of the woods, towards the barrier. But something happened, something Regulus thought he might remember for the rest of his life, because his prayers had been answered.
He heard Walburga shriek louder than he ever heard.
And then Regulus smiled. It was the last time he would smile for a very long time.