Chapter 3
“He’s going to be okay, Pads,” Remus whispers in what he hopes is a soothing tone, drawing small circles on the blade of Sirius’s shoulder with his thumb. “Regulus is smart. He’ll be fine.”
They’re in the sitting room, discussing how they’re going to get Regulus out of Hogwarts without arousing suspicion. James had suggested informing Dumbledore, but Sirius had been vehemently opposed. “If Regulus doesn’t trust Dumbledore, why should I?”
It was ironic, considering that Sirius had never agreed with Regulus once in the past three years, but Remus had figured it wasn’t the time to comment on that.
“What if we used Lotty?” James says slowly from his position on the couch. He’s on Sirius’s other side, and Remus is eternally grateful that James has always known how to calm down the Black brothers. “The wards around Hogwarts don’t apply to House Elves. She’d be able to get him in and out within the hour.”
Dorcas shakes her head from where she’s pacing, her sock-clad feet—James doesn’t let them wear shoes in his mother’s house—tapping rhythmically against the floorboards. “He doesn’t know her, and there’s no way for him to verify that she’s actually your house elf. He wouldn’t trust her.”
James and Sirius’s shoulder’s slump in tandem. Remus watches them, feeling a wave of pity for Regulus. He had never been close with the youngest Black brother, but he knew Regulus must have been devastated when Sirius ran off over three years ago.
Remus still remembers the stab of primal, almost debilitating fear that hit him the moment Sirius appeared in the Potter’s sitting room that summer: bloody, half out of his mind with pain, desperately holding the portkey that James had given him ‘just in case’.
Remus had still been angry over the ‘prank’ Sirius had pulled near the end of fifth year; vowing repeatedly to never forgive him. Naturally, that went out the window immediately upon seeing Sirius’s battered state—blood and broken bones were all too familiar for Remus.
“Wait,” Remus blurts out, and every eye in the room turns towards him. “What about a portkey?”
– - – - –
Much to Regulus’s annoyance, Evan had forced him to the hospital wing a few hours after he awoke. They told Madame Pomfrey it had been a flying accident and she looked highly skeptical but thankfully didn’t press.
By breakfast the next day, Regulus is as good as new and sitting at the Slytherin table in the great hall. He looks up as the owls fly in but turns back to his food when he doesn’t recognize the Black family owl. He turns to Barty to ask him about their first class but pauses when he sees both Barty and Evan staring intently at the cloud of owls that haven’t landed yet. Regulus narrows his eyes as he pieces it together.
“Tell me you didn’t do it,” Regulus says, his voice low.
Evan and Barty exchange sheepish glances. “Tell me you didn’t owl my brother,” Regulus knows he sounds dangerous but he doesn’t care. He has suppressed all feelings and thoughts of his brother for so long that the idea of having to confront him, on paper or in person, makes him wish he was back in the cave.
Evan and Barty don’t deny it, looking guiltily at Regulus. Evan is the first to speak. “We had to. We have no one else to turn to.”
The statement makes the situation feel even more bleak. Regulus is hiding two parts of Voldemort’s soul in the school with a headmaster he doesn’t trust and he can’t even go home without fear of torture or death, none of his friends can.
Regulus is still angry but the fight leaves him and he nods at them. Evan and Barty look relieved at the acknowledgement, though only their close friends would be able to tell.
Regulus looks up, now also anticipating the letter. An owl swoops into the great hall and heads towards the Slytherin table. Regulus recognizes it instantly although Barty and Evan eye the owl suspiciously.
“Who’s owl is that?” Barty asks in an accusatory manner.
“It’s the Potter owl,” the words are out of Regulus’s mouth before he can stop them.
Evan eyes him suspiciously but thankfully lets it pass as Barty reaches for the owl. It’s a small package with a letter attached and Barty skims the letter before nodding in approval and handing it over to Regulus.
He gets a tight feeling in his chest when he sees his brother’s handwriting on the parchment. It’s the same cursive they were taught as kids but with a casual scrawl in it that is entirely Sirius. His brother’s way of protesting the dull pureblood tutoring they were forced into.
Dear Regulus,
Open the package in your dorm. Don’t let anyone else touch it. “Quidditch”
Thank Rosier for me.
Eagle One
Regulus folds the letter back up and puts it, along with the package, in his bag and pretends like his heart isn't pounding.
“We have a few minutes before class, why don’t we head back to the dorms?” Regulus says casually and they nod, standing up with him.
“I’ll go grab Pandora. Don’t wait for us, you know how Pandora gets. We may be sidetracked by some shiny objects she spots.” Regulus hears the hidden message in Evan’s words: They would go grab the horcruxes.
Barty and Regulus stroll out of the great hall and then hurry down to the Slytherin dorms, locking and warding the door behind them when they reach their room. Regulus immediately begins moving around the room, collecting all his belongings and placing them neatly in his trunk.
Barty sprawls on Regulus’s bed, making grabby hands at him until Regulus tosses him the package.
He takes another look at the letter and bursts out laughing. “Eagle One! Hah! Of all the names to choose and your brother went with eagle one?” Barty crows.
Regulus sighs in second hand embarrassment for his brother. “When he started pissing off our parents, he turned to learning about muggles. There was a month in the summer of our second year. Somehow, he found out about codenames,” Regulus groans.
A few minutes later and the door opens, Evan and Pandora slipping inside and relocking the door.
“You guys got the horcruxes?” Regulus asks. In response, they dump the two items, wrapped in several layers of fabric, on his bed. Regulus and Barty move back marginally.
Regulus looks up, finally struck with the weight of what he is about to do. He is about to betray the dark lord, even more than when he went to the cave. He is giving himself up to the light side. He is going to see Sirius again.
He pushes down the last thought and ignores the feelings that come with it. Slowly, he reaches out and grabs the horcruxes, careful to only touch the fabric, and locks it in his trunk that he has packed.
His eyes meet Evan’s and Regulus remembers the look on his friend’s face as he revealed the dark mark the previous day.
“Come with me,” Regulus says almost breathlessly, grasping for some way to protect his friend, and also, selfishly, for some form of comfort as he goes to a new house containing people who may despise him.
Evan’s eyes soften but gain a determined gleam.
“You know I can’t,” he says, “but it’ll be okay. You’ll be fine. I will be fine.” He sounds like he is trying to convince himself.
The reassurance clears his mind at last and Regulus nods once before holding onto his trunk in one hand and picking up the object that he recognized to be a portkey in the other.
“How do you even activate this thing? Does it leave at a certain time?” Barty asks suddenly.
“No you idiot, you have to say the activation word,” Regulus says.
“Well how are you supposed to know what the activation word is? It’s not like Sirius said what it was in his letter. Oh wait, is that why he just randomly wrote quidditch?” Barty realizes what he says a moment too late.
Regulus doesn’t get a chance to say goodbye as the portkey is pulling him up and away in a whirl of color and his last glimpse of his friends before he is transported away entirely is of Evan whacking a sheepish Barty lightly in the back of the head as Pandora waves at Regulus’s fading form.