The Beginning
They were all in the Potters' living room, most of them sitting down. They had been crying a lot, almost all of them with their eyes still red from their tears. Two were dry-hearted, their eyes just empty. Lily was holding on to Remus's arm, more to support herself than to support him, though she would easily have pretended and believed it. James was running his hands through his hair, tousling it more and more, his dark circles still darker and wider than the day before. Peter and Mary sat together on the sofa like the old friends they were. Marlene had her head resting on the shoulder of Dorcas, her wife, as she continued to sob silently, at the same rhythm as Lily. At the other end of the room sat Barty and Pandora, crumbling in their despair and sadness as they sank into the red and gold footstools. In one corner stood Anastasia, Lyra, Antares and Lazar. Andromeda, Narcissa, Harry, Draco and Luna were also present, sitting in various places in different states of sadness. Opposite them stood Regulus, his eyes dark and his face sick. He fiddled with his fingers and avoided their gaze.
James moved forward in his chair, his face sick with worry.
"Please Regulus," he pleaded, "tell us the truth. The whole truth."
Regulus swallowed with difficulty. Words struggled to come out. The problem wasn't the truth, but the secret. The secret he had kept for so long. The secret they had kept for so long. The truth was hard to believe, hard to say. It was his truth. It was him. It was them. Just them, as it had always been. Them.
Regulus took a long breath.
"It all began during a stay at the family residence in Châtelaillon, on the south-west coast of France, in the summer of 1966..."
*****
Summer 1966, French south-west coast.
We, little boys, were lying on the grass, looking up at the blue sky and the rare clouds. Our jet-black hair mingled with each other's and with the grass. We had abandoned our suit jackets and shoes, rolling up our sleeves so as not to succumb to the late August heat. The domestic staff came and went on the terrace and in the driveway, but never bothered us. They only spoke to us when they were told to or when we initiated a conversation ourselves. Our parents, our grandmother, our aunts and uncles, as well as Narcissa, Andromeda and Bellatrix were all off doing their own thing, at the beach, in town, in La Rochelle or Rochefort, two larger towns not far away. Sirius and I had the manor to ourselves, not to mention the household butlers, who went about their duties like ghosts. Freedom was the dream of every child our age, in the summer when I had just celebrated my fifth birthday.
Sirius's tummy rumbled with hunger, which made us laugh.
"Reggie, I'm hungry" he whispered in my ear.
"We can go into the kitchen if you like" I whispered back, because going into the kitchen was a plan worthy of a whisper.
We got up and ran towards the big white stone house that belonged to our maternal grandparents, Pollux and Irma Black. Our bare feet hurt as we ran, but our laughter and happiness blinded our pain. Suddenly, I bumped into Sirius, who had just stopped suddenly. Too suddenly. I stepped back and suddenly saw what had stopped my brother in his tracks. One of the servants was there. In the middle of the kitchen, above the table. Hanging from an old beam. The years had made me forget his first name, but now that I mentioned it, I remembered. Richard Merill. His neck was hanging from the rope, his head lowered to hide it. I felt a shiver run through my big brother's body and suddenly he leapt forward and climbed onto the table, defying everything we'd always been taught. Realising he was too small, he jumped back down, grabbed a knife and a stool and put them on the table. He climbed to the top and began to cut the rope, rocking back and forth because of the precarious balance of his tower. He was breathing hard, trying to hide from me the fear that was piercing his heart. The rope gave way under Richard's weight and his body fell to the side of the table. Sirius let out a small gasp of terror. His eyes fell on my frightened gaze and he jumped again. He grabbed my arm with a strength I didn't know he had and his terrified voice whispered to me:
"I killed him, Reggie. They're going to know it was me. We have to leave."
And he took me with him, running through the huge garden of the family estate. He gave me a short ladder to get me over the gate easily and then climbed over. He grabbed my wrist and forced me to run behind him. We ran and ran and ran, across the surrounding fields and into the forest.
Sirius never looked back.