Chapter 4
The Potter estate is massive. Regulus appears on the lawn, a few hundred feet away from the manor. Begrudgingly, he admits that their land is well-kept, with a small copse of trees off to the side of the house and sprawling green grass. It’s sunny here, which is something Regulus is unused to, spending most of his time at Hogwarts or Grimmauld Place.
He trudges up the slope of his hill, his levitating trunk following behind him. He barely has to knock on the door before it swings open, a small house elf with large floppy ears peering up at him from the doorway. “Come in,” she says, her voice squeaky but steady. “They’ve been expecting you.”
Regulus gives her a grateful nod, stepping into the threshold. He can immediately feel the wards sizzling around him, heating up and warping around him as they grow accustomed to his presence.
The moment Regulus crosses through, he catches a glimpse of someone in the kitchen before four figures blur into his line of sight. First is Sirius, who’s movements seem jerky and— uncertain, almost. Dorcas who doesn’t hesitate to grip him in a hug, which he returns almost immediately. Remus, staring at him inscrutably, and James with a strange look in his eye.
“Reggie,” Sirius is the first to speak, despite Dorcas’s embrace. His voice is almost emotionless, but Regulus knows even now that the slightly off timbre to his voice is because he’s feeling too much.
“Sirius,” he acknowledges, keeping his face muscles neutral.
There’s a beat of heavy silence before Dorcas says, “it’s good to see you, Regulus.” Regulus gives her a small smile: it’s been a little under a year since they saw each other, and he’s missed her terribly.
“What happened?” Sirius finally says. “Rosier’s letter wasn’t exactly the most descriptive.” His lip curls upwards as if he can’t imagine not cramming a letter with every single detail imaginable—and maybe he can’t. Sirius has never been one for subtlety.
Regulus glances at Remus and James, but their expressions give nothing away. “I’ll explain in a little while, it’s a long story. I’d like to set down my belongings first.”
Sirius’s lips twitch in incredulity. “Tell us now! Merlin’s balls, you make us ship you out here ‘posthaste’ with absolutely no context and you expect us to be patient?”
“Yes, Sirius, that’s exactly what I expect you to do.” Regulus says flatly. Truthfully, there’s some kind of exhaustion dragging him down, probably a late onset from the combination of fighting for his life in a cave and being in the immediate presence of two evil soul shards. He has no energy for Sirius’s Gryffindor rashness.
Sirius lets out a dry snort. “Glad to see you haven’t changed.” Pushing past Regulus a tad too roughly to be unintentional, he steps out the door and slams it behind him.
Regulus blinks. He hadn’t had high hopes for a warm brotherly reunion, but this was certainly not how he was expecting things to go.
“Well,” James says carefully. “Welcome to Potter Manor, Reggie.”
Regulus scowls. “Don’t call me that.”
Remus gives Regulus a slightly apologetic smile before stepping past him and leaving after Sirius. Regulus tries to tamp down his irritation: it’s not Remus’s fault his brother is an arrogant, egotistical—
“Care for a tour?” James asks, as if he can read Regulus’s thoughts and is trying to stop him from thinking them.
Regulus is silent for a moment, taking in the entryway–mostly as a way to distract himself from the tense air the room has now that it’s just the two of them in there. After it is no longer socially acceptable for him to ignore James, he gives a detached shrug. “Why not.”
Dorcas and Marlene exchange a look, and they seem to have a silent conversation in the span of a few moments. “We’ll come back later,” Dorcas says, reaching out and squeezing Regulus’s hands in her own. “Take care of yourself, Reggie. Don’t let Sirius push you around too much.”
Regulus wants to protest, wants to say that Sirius has never pushed him around before and why would he start now, but Dorcas shoots him a significant look and the words die in his throat.
“See you later, Dorcas,” he manages to say instead.
– - – - –
“This is the kitchen,” James says, waving a hand somewhat lazily around them as they step out of the entryway and to the left.
It’s nice, Regulus thinks, with plants hanging off almost every surface and a lived-in feel to it. It smells like caramel. He likes it.
“There’s a bathroom over there. The sitting room is to the left on the right. It’s empty right now, but occasionally we get people stopping in for a couple of nights. Order members—do you know what that is?”
There’s a sinking feeling in Regulus’s chest as his suspicions are confirmed. “You’re in the Order of the Phoenix.” It’s not a question.
James’s eyebrows twitch upwards in surprise. “You know what the Order is? How?”
“Your petty vigilante group is a secret to absolutely nobody who runs remotely near pureblood circles, Potter. Half of Hogwarts hates you, and the other half has pledged to join your ranks the moment they turn of age.” Regulus sneers.
James looks outraged. “Because a fascist hate group is so much better? We’re on the right side, Regulus.”
“Yet you’re not taking action, you’re just reacting to every move Voldemort makes. If you want any chance of succeeding, you’re going to have to start acting preemptively.”
James furrows his brow. “I trust Dumbledore. If he’s playing his cards like this, it’s because he has a reason to.”
“Dumbledore made you a child soldier. That’s what the Dark Lord does—he recruits people, children, straight out of school. You shouldn’t be holding yourself to the same standard as the fascists you so openly despise.”
James clenches his jaw. “I’m not like them at all. None of us are.”
Regulus tilts his head. It’s not an answer, and he can tell James isn’t pleased by this. “Anyway,” James continues with a strained undertone that wasn't there before, “we get a few visits a month from Order members who need to crash or a place to lie low. It’s a good resource, given that the Potter wards are so strong.”
Regulus hums in assent. “I noticed,” he says mildly. “I’ve never felt anything like them. Not even the Black wards are so… specific.”
James raises an eyebrow. “How so?”
“The Black wards appraise your value based on the purity of your blood.” At James’s look of disgust, he adds, “really, Potter, what did you expect?”
James shakes his head, looking revolted but unsurprised. “I’ll show you to your room. Follow me.”
Regulus does. There’s a staircase in the corner of the room, but James doesn’t take it: instead, he passes through the sitting room and takes a corridor which leads out to the right. There are four doors in the corridor. Two of them are closed. James steps towards the farthest one on the left.
“This is yours,” he says with a gesture into the room. “Mine is right across the hall.” Regulus peers at it: it’s fairly big, with a double bed and a large window behind the headboard, though the curtains are drawn over it. He’d have no problem sleeping here usually—there’s just one issue.
“Potter, I am absolutely not sleeping in this room.” Regulus hisses.
James grins. “It was Sirius’s idea. He thinks you could use some culturing.”
“And you agreed with him?” Regulus says incredulously, eyes flitting between the room and James.
The room is decked out entirely in Gryffindor regalia, a thoroughly unpleasant combination of deep red and garish gold that is purely Sirius’s taste. Even the crowning on the roof is gold, for Merlin’s sake.
Regulus pinches the bridge of his nose. “I am not going to deal with you right now.” He waves his wand, and his trunk appears at the foot of the bed. “I am very tired. I will be taking a nap—and then I’ll explain everything.”
“Sweet dreams, Reggie!” James gives him a grin that shows his dimples. Regulus doesn’t know why it suddenly seems a bit harder to breathe. Must have been some delayed effects from the portkey.
“Don’t call me that,” Regulus scowls as James disappears into his own room. He gets a laugh in response.
– - – - –
Regulus makes his way into the sitting room a few hours later, having changed into a fresher pair of robes and ransacking the pantry for a bite to eat. Sirius and Remus are sitting on the couch side by side—Remus’s arm is thrown over Sirius’s shoulder. They look entirely too comfortable and couple-y for Regulus’s taste. The sheer thought of that much physical touch makes him want to shudder.
Regulus doesn’t have a problem that they are together, his issue is that they are together. Remus is entirely too good of a person to deserve Sirius.
“Where’s Potter?” He asks, sitting down on a plush armchair a safe distance away from the rays of gooey ‘my love, my darling’ romanticness that they’re emanating.
Sirius stares at Regulus intently. Remus clears his throat, looking a bit uncomfortable. “Upstairs, I think. I’ll go find him.”
He murmurs something into Sirius’s ear before standing and exiting the sitting room, leaving Sirius and Regulus alone.
“Well,” Sirius tilts his head, “at least you’ve been taking care of yourself. You don’t look half bad.”
“We’re going to discuss my grooming habits?” Regulus tries to keep the acid out of his voice. He isn’t entirely successful.
Sirius’s eyes narrow slightly. “What would you rather discuss, then? Your allegiance to Voldemort? Why you showed up here out of nowhere with practically no warning? I mean, I had to hear about it from bloody Rosier, for Godric’s sake.”
“I’ll get to that,” Regulus says flatly.
“Oh,” says Sirius with a snort. “So you’d rather we just sit in silence, then?”
“Yes,” Regulus says with a half-shrug.
They do in fact sit in silence, Sirius glaring pointedly at Regulus and Regulus determinedly ignoring him. It’s not a terrible experience, honestly: Regulus has been through worse.
Finally, Remus and James appear in the doorway. Remus had been gone entirely too long for him to have been seeking James out: they must have been waiting for a heartfelt conversation between the two brothers that didn’t come.
“I’m defecting from the Dark Lord.” Regulus says bluntly as the two seat themselves: Remus back at Sirius’s side and James on another armchair opposing Regulus.
There’s a beat of silence. Then—
“What do you mean, defecting?” Sirius’s voice is dangerous. “I wasn’t aware you’d joined them in the first place.”
Wordlessly, Regulus rolls up the sleeve of his robe.
They’re all silent. Sirius looks livid.
“No bloody brother of mine is one of them.” Sirius hisses, leaning forward. “The nerve to even show your face—”
“He just said he’s leaving. Let him explain himself, at least.” Remus says, giving Sirius a stern look. Still enraged, Sirius slowly relaxes back into Remus’s touch.
Regulus tugs his sleeve back down. “A while back Voldemort told me he needed a house elf. Me specifically, not my father or Walburga. I figured it wasn’t too important, but when Kreacher came back he was… different. He seemed terrified, truth be told, but he wouldn’t speak about what happened at first.”
James looks confused briefly. “Kreacher?”
“Their house elf,” Remus responds. Regulus doesn’t want to think about how Remus knows this, he just moves on.
“Yes. He eventually broke, of course, but what he told me was unexpected, to say the least. There was a cavern. The Dark Lord took Kreacher into the cavern, made him drink a potion, and left him for dead. Kreacher’s account was spotty, and he didn’t remember certain details, but I gathered enough information from his story to know what it was.”
“Well?” Sirius asks, impatient as always.
“He made a horcrux and left it in the cave. With it, Voldemort would be unstoppable. Even if he was killed, he’d come back. So I went after it, and I brought it back.”
Remus raises his eyebrows, looking confused but still disturbed. “Assuming I’m right about the nature of a horcrux, it’s not something to be taken lightly. You willingly went into the cave that your house elf almost died in to get a dark artifact from one of the most dangerous wizards alive?”
Regulus shrugs. He doesn’t mention what he saw in the cave, nor how he was out of commission for nearly two days after. “Essentially, yes.”
“What in the bloody fuck is a horcrux?” Sirius snaps, looking thoroughly irritated. Remus purses his lips together, but he seems to be equally curious because he doesn’t rebuke Sirius for his language.
Remus and Regulus exchange a look. Remus seems to know that horcruxes are dark magic, but not the specifics. That’s usually the case, but Regulus is surprised he knows what it is at all. “It’s essentially a piece of someone’s soul. Very old, very dark magic. If you kill someone who’s made a horcrux, they’ll just come back, generally stronger than before.” Regulus explains slowly, watching the dots connect in Remus’s head.
James exhales forcefully. “Right. Because we need Voldemort to get even stronger. Fan-bloody-tastic.”
“How many?” Remus tilts his head.
Sirius makes a choking noise. “You think he made more than one?” He seems to be taking the news fairly well, truth be told: Regulus had a proper crisis in the library once he figured it out.
“I know he made at least two, though I’m not sure if there’s more,” Regulus admits with a tilt of his head. “The most evil wizard in history–”
“Debatable,” Remus says, and Regulus gives him a small smile. Remus is clearly educated on wizarding history.
“One of the most evil wizards, then.” Regulus amends. “He perfects the most dangerous spell in existence, something that splits the soul from its owner, something that goes against every last law of nature, and you think he’d only do it once?”
“He’d make as many as he could, just to prove a point.” James says softly. The hopelessness is visible in the way his shoulders sag and his eyes seem to lose some of their brightness.
“Fuck.” Sirius slumps against Remus. “Isn’t that just great.”
“What’s the second horcrux you found?” James asks slowly as Remus comforts Sirius in hushed whispers. “You said you know he made at least two.”
Regulus frowns. “Technically, I didn’t find it. The diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw was hidden away, and after I found the first horcrux… it made its presence known to me.” He doesn’t want to involve Pandora—or Evan and Barty, to a lesser extent—any more than he has to.
“Wasn’t Ravenclaw’s diadem lost? Where did you find it?” Remus asks, looking up from where he’s been consoling Regulus’s brother, a hand placed firmly on his knee in a sweet gesture of solidarity.
Regulus thinks of the horcruxes locked in his trunk upstairs. “The one I found in the cavern was Salazar Slytherin’s locket, so that gives an indication for the pedigree he’d want his horcruxes to have.” He says it scornfully, his lip curling around the word ‘pedigree’. It’s too pureblooded for his taste at all. “The diadem was lost, of course, but it didn’t take much to find it. There’s a corridor on the seventh floor—”
“The Room of Requirement?” James exchanges a look with Remus and Sirius. “How do you know about that?”
Regulus tries not to grit his teeth and is marginally successful. “Let me get through my story in peace, please. But for your information, you’re not the only people who’ve explored Hogwarts.” He wrinkles his nose at the thought that the so-called Marauders would have any kind of monopoly over Hogwarts. “It was hidden in there. There’s different versions of the room, as I’m sure you know, but there’s a specific one that stores lost objects. They’re usually magical in nature, and nefariously magical at that.”
Sirius looks overwhelmed and thoroughly exhausted. “Do you have them in the house?” His shoulder-length hair seems to have lost some of its curl, as if the very energy has been sucked out of them by the news. Understandable, honestly, Regulus thinks.
“They’re in my trunk upstairs.”
James grimaces in disgust. “Keep them in there. Don’t take them out, don’t look at them, don’t even think about them too hard. We’ll get Dumbledore to take care of it.”
“Absolutely not,” Regulus snaps immediately. “I don’t trust what he’ll do with that much power.”
Remus and James look shocked. Sirius doesn’t. Regulus files that information away for later. “Dumbledore is one of the most powerful wizards in the world, Regulus. If anyone can get rid of them, it’s him.” James says.
“And what if he chooses not to do anything?” Regulus raises his chin.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Sirius says before James or Remus can protest. “For now, let’s keep the horcruxes locked away. Out of sight, out of mind. Now,” he says, rising from his seat on the couch. “Who wants dinner?”