Chapter 4
Regulus sits at the window seat in his room holding his pocket watch, watching the minute hand slowly tick forward on the clock face. As the minute and hour hands meet on the ‘12’, Regulus opens the window and lets the family owl loose. Attached to its leg is a small package, pristinely wrapped in green paper, and a small note. It’s officially November 3rd, 1971. Sirius’ twelfth birthday.
Regulus rests his chin against the windowsill and watches the owl soar away until it has disappeared into the inky black sky. Reflexively, Regulus’ eyes are drawn up to the brightest star in the sky - his brother's star. He recalls sitting in a similar position this time last year in Sirius’ room, rather than his.
It was an unspoken rule that on both of their birthdays, the brothers would sit on the window seat in Sirius’ room, staring at their respective stars, and talk about their plans for the future. This was the first time they hadn’t been able to do so, and Regulus was feeling quite appropriately mopey about it. The only thing that was helping to lift his spirits somewhat was the thought that next year, they’d be able to do it at Hogwarts. He had read all about the Astronomy Tower in Hogwarts: A History, perhaps they’d sit up there rather than in one of their dorm rooms to watch their stars.
Smiling softly, Regulus gets up from the window seat and pads his way over to his bed. He didn’t normally stay up this late and he could feel sleep already trying to pull him under. Tucking himself into his soft, dark green duvet cover, Regulus closes his eyes and hums contentedly as he burrows into his bed. However, just as Regulus is beginning to doze, there is a quiet tap at his window. His eyes shoot open and he sits up in his bed, turning to look at his window where a tawny owl now sits, quirking its head at him and sticking its leg out expectantly.
Regulus tentatively gets out of bed and walks over to the owl. There’s only one person that could be sending Regulus an owl so late at night however, he knows there is no way Sirius could have already received his owl and sent something back to Regulus in reply. Besides, this owl was not one of their family’s.
The young boy unties the small scroll from the owl's leg and absent-mindedly feeds it one of the owl treats he keeps beside his window as he unfurls the letter.
Reggie,
Surprise! I expected you’d be sending me something tonight and wanted to send something in return. I’ll keep it brief, just wanted to let you know that I miss you too. It doesn’t feel like it’s actually my birthday, not when you’re back home and I’m here. I’ll keep an eye on your star tonight if you promise to keep an eye on mine, mon petit etoile.
Cheers,
Sirius
Regulus chuckles as he finishes reading the letter, brushing a tear from his round cheek. At least he wasn’t the only one being mopey tonight. With a pleased smile, he makes his way back to his bed, tucks himself back in, and falls asleep while watching his brother’s star twinkle in the night.
*****
That Friday, Number 12 Grimmauld Place is full of life for the first time since Sirius left for school. Regulus, Walburga and Kreacher are both bustling around, preparing the house for Regulus’ new friends. Walburga is in the midst of telling Kreacher to polish yet another family bust while Regulus is setting up the drawing room, fluffing pillows and making sure there are enough coasters for each of their guests.
Just before 3:00 pm hits, Walburga calls Regulus over to her. As Regulus approaches, his mother fixes him with a stern look before reaching out to smooth down the collar of his prim white shirt.
“Remember what we discussed, Regulus,” Walburga begins, “You must make sure you establish firm connections with these children. The Rosier’s are doing quite well for themselves and it would be in our family's best interest to develop closer ties with them now, more so than before. And the Crouch’s are making a name for themselves in the Ministry. It would do you well to have allies in the Ministry,” She finishes as she presses out a small crease in Regulus’ vest.
“Oui, Maman,” Regulus agrees, nodding his head and smiling politely at her. They’d had this conversation a hundred times over the past week, Regulus was sure he could practically recite her speech word for word. “I won’t let you down,”
“That’s my boy,” Walburga says with a smile, cupping Regulus’ cheek with her hand. “Now! Go stand by the floo and wait for your guests to arrive. I will be in my study if you need anything,” she turns to walk out of the drawing room before looking back over her shoulder at Regulus.
“Please do make sure you don't need anything, dear,” she finishes, and with that, she swiftly makes her way out of the room and up the stairs.
Regulus shakes his head at his mother's dramatics and turns towards the fireplace, straightening out his vest and standing at attention.
Less than a minute later there's a swirl of green flames from the hearth and out pops Barty, unceremoniously dropping out of the fireplace and onto the ground before him.
“Merlin!” He coughs out as he gets to his knees and begins brushing off his soot-covered clothes. “I'll never get used to bloody floo travel,” he mutters, standing up and smiling at Regulus who simply shakes his head at the other boy.
Kreacher apparates into the room and casts a silent cleaning charm at the spot by the floo that is now covered in ash. He throws a dirty look Barty's way as he ambles out of the room, muttering something about unruly children under his breath. Regulus knows he could have easily disapparated out of the room, but the old house elf had a flair for the dramatics.
“Now you've done it,” Regulus says in lieu of a greeting to Barty. “He's going to be complaining about this for days.” He says flatly.
“He's a bloody house elf, who cares,” Barty retorts with a smirk. “If he does, just give him a good smack up his head,” he swings his arm sharply up into the air, which Regulus imagines was supposed to be a demonstration of abusing his house elf.
“I'd rather not take advice from you on how to treat my family's house elf, Crouch,” Regulus says with a glare, his hackles rising in defence of Kreacher. Regulus knew it was common for pure-blood families to abuse their house elf, but he personally found it barbaric. He often had to seclude himself on the opposite side of the house when his parents disciplined Kreacher out of fear that he would do something idiotic, like trying to stop them from flinging another unforgivable at the poor house elf.
Before tensions can rise any higher, the floo flares to life again and Pandora gracefully steps out, brushing invisible soot off her blouse.
“Hi Regulus, Barty,” She says with a smile, waving at both of them. Both boys throw one more glare at each other before turning to Pandora and politely greeting her. A moment later, Evan steps out of the floo as well, only a smidgen less gracefully than Pandora.
“You see, Crouch, that’s how you step out of a floo,” Regulus snidely remarks while nodding in greeting towards Evan. Barty merely grumbles under his breath and scuffs his shoe against the floor petulantly.
Evan smirks at Barty as he and Pandora step further into the drawing room. “What’s this I’m hearing? Did you have a bit of trouble on your way here, Barty?” He teases, eyeing the patches of soot on Barty’s trousers.
“Now, now, Evan,” Pandora says with a teasing lilt to her voice, “If I recall correctly, you only learned how to properly floo a few months ago. Remember the time we visited the Malfoy’s and you hurled right into one of their vases?” With that, Barty throws his head back and begins howling with laughter.
“You did not!” Barty cackles, pointing at Evan.
“He did! And even worse… it was a family heirloom!” Pandora squeals, dissolving into a fit of laughter alongside Barty. Even Regulus can’t help but let out a chuckle at the image of Evan, green in the face and throwing up his tea right in front of Abraxas Malfoy.
“Whatever, as if you guys haven’t gotten sick after flooing before,” Evan says, crossing his arms and scowling at the lot of them.
“Speak for yourself,” Regulus scoffs. “I have never gotten sick after flooing.” He says with a proud huff. The other three children all stare at him speculatively, clearly not believing a word he’s saying.
“Suuuurrreee,” Barty drags out, quirking his eyebrow at Regulus. With a sigh, Regulus prepares himself for the inevitable mocking he is about to receive with what he is about to reveal. It’s to develop closer ties… for his family… right?
“Side-along apparating on the other hand…” He is really about to do this - he’s about to willingly embarrass himself in front of these children he barely knows all to strengthen his parent's pre-existing alliances with their families. “When I was seven, my parent’s side-alonged me to my Grand Maman’s house and I threw up all over her Parisian rug.” He admits with a flush. There is a beat of silence before Pandora, Evan, and Barty all start howling with laughter. Barty is laughing so hard, he falls onto his back and starts kicking his legs in the air like some sort of over-turned cockroach.
“You-” Evan wheezes, his face red with laughter, “You did not!”
“I can’t even picture it, you’re just so-” Pandora brushes a tear from her cheek as she hysterically giggles, “-you’re so posh!” And that sets the three of them into another round of laughter. Regulus finds himself starting to laugh along with them. He can’t help it, they’re joy is just so infectious. Is that what he’s been missing? All these months without Sirius has left Grimmauld Place feeling colder than it ever has before. And now, with these three ridiculous children rolling around on the floor of his family's drawing room, Regulus can’t believe how warm it suddenly feels. Everything even looks brighter, somehow.
“Alright, alright,” Regulus says, raising his hands in front of him as if trying to calm a wild beast. And with how the other kids are acting, he may as well be. In his ten years of life, he doesn’t think he’s seen such a display of unbridled joy before. “That’s enough for now. Let’s all sit down - on the couches, yes Barty, even you - and I’ll get Kreacher to bring us tea.”
After a minute, everyone has calmed down enough (aside from Pandora who keeps hiccoughing funny little laughs every now and then) and Regulus is able to call Kreacher into the room.
“Kreacher, could you please bring us tea?” He asks politely as the house elf warily eyes the kids now calmly sitting on the stiff couches that circle a large, ornate coffee table in the centre of the room.
“Of course, Master Regulus,” Kreacher says with a bow, popping out of the room. A moment later he returns, this time on foot, with several trays hovering behind him. He sets down the silver, tiered trays, each filled with small sandwiches, quiches, an assortment of biscuits and cakes and, of course, the tea itself. He has barely set down the last tray before Barty and Evan are lunging forward, digging into the food like wild animals who haven’t eaten in days. Regulus looks towards Pandora who is eying the boys with disgust before looking to Regulus and sharing a small smile with him and mouthing the word ‘boys; with an eye-roll. ‘At least someone else here has manners’ Regulus thinks to himself before picking up a small chine plate and carefully selecting a couple of finger sandwiches.
*****
Later on, when the sun has begun to set below the roofs of the other townhouses in Islington, the group of new friends sits crammed onto one couch. Regulus can’t even recall what they have been talking about as they have been flitting from one topic to the other too quickly for him to keep track. The early evening sun is streaming through the large windows in the drawing room, bathing the normally dark room in a golden glow. The gilded edges of the books on the dusty old bookshelves are glistening under the light and the dust particles in the air are lazily dancing around in a sunbeam.
Regulus is in the middle of laughing as Barty does a shockingly good impression of his cousin’s new boyfriend, Lucious Malfoy, when he feels the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. Regulus whips his head around to look at the door and sees his father standing there, watching all four of them with a dark look in his eyes. The smile drops off Regulus’ face and he stands from the couch, immediately smoothing his hands down the front of his clothes and over his hair, hoping he doesn’t look too dishevelled.
“Papa,” He says, nodding at his father and hoping that his friends hear the change in his tone of voice and pick up the hint to behave. He notices that at the very least Pandora, who was sitting right next to him, notices and straightens her posture immediately, her large smile dropping into a smaller more polite one.
“Regulus’” His father greets. Orion Black is not a large man, nor is he a loud man, but he doesn’t need to be. His quiet presence can command a room like no other. Regulus has seen his father silence an entire ballroom full of people without raising his voice.
The Patriarch of The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black would probably have been considered a handsome man, once upon a time. He had a strong brow, a nose as straight as an arrow, high cheekbones, and a full head of hair. When Regulus had been even younger, his father’s hair had been jet black, but in the past few years, it had begun to go grey. He wasn’t overly tall, probably standing at about 5 foot 11 at his tallest, but his presence made him appear taller. And, as always, he was dressed in a fine three-piece suit with a heavy, black, wool cloak. How he wasn’t boiling in the stuffy house, Regulus didn’t know.
“Would you accompany me into the hallway for a moment, son?” Regulus’ father asks in a cool voice. With a stiff nod, Regulus makes his way out of the room and into the hall, gulping as his father closes the door to the drawing room. Was he shutting his friends in, or shutting Regulus out?
“Father, I’m sorry-” Regulus is cut off before he can finish his sentence by his father's hand swiftly coming down across the right side of his face, the sound of the loud slap filling the empty hallway. Regulus fights against every instinct in his body to raise his own hand to his cheek and pushes back the tears that are threatening to well up in his eyes.
“You will speak only when you are spoken to!” Orion hisses, his red face looming over Regulus’. “Your mother and I thought we could entrust you to hold a respectful gathering with the children of our allies, only for you to make a fool out of our entire family with your behaviour.” The small, raven-haired boy flushes as his father continues to berate him. He hadn’t seen his father cast a silencing charm when they had entered the hallway and he was sure the others could hear what was going on in the hallway, even if his father wasn’t raising his voice.
“Papa, I-” Another smack fills the hallway, Regulus’ left cheek blooming a deep red from where his father has struck him a second time. This time, Regulus can’t control the single tear that leaks out from the corner of his eye, quickly lifting his hand to wipe it away. His father sneers as he watches his youngest child quiver before him.
“You have disappointed me, Regulus,” His father says in a cold voice, his expression levelling into one of apathy. “Your grandfather’s portrait has been reporting back to us all afternoon and he told us that the lot of you have been acting like animals. We were under the impression you’d be having the other children over for tea, not for a playdate,” Orion sneers. Regulus looks straight ahead, clenching his jaw to keep it from quivering. He had been working so hard to please his parents these past few months, filling every request of theirs with no questions. How could he act so foolishly today? He had forgotten himself.
He couldn’t act like other children, he had responsibilities.
“Speak,” His father commands.
“I am sorry, Papa. I forgot myself and acted foolishly. I promise I will not let you down again,” Regulus says in a robotic voice. His father glowers at him and points a large meaty finger in his face.
“You’d better not, boy. I will know if you do.” He says before turning on his heel and striding away.
Regulus stands there for a moment in the dark hallway, trying to collect himself. The dark walls are filled with portraits that all watch on with smug looks on their painted faces. Regulus can’t even find it within himself to care, wishing that the floor would swallow him up so he didn’t have to go back to the drawing room to face his friend. No, not friends. Allies. That is what his parents wanted them to be, and it would be in Regulus’ best interest not to forget that.
With a trembling hand, Regulus reaches for the door to the drawing room. He pushes it open and walks in with his head bowed, letting his dark curls hang over his face, hoping that the others don’t see the bruises that are surely blooming across his cheeks. The room is quiet as he walks in and the golden light from earlier has dissipated, leaving the room feeling dark and cold. Just as it had before the other children had arrived.
“Regulus?” Pandora’s sweet, high-pitched voice asks from the couch. Regulus lifts his head and meets her eyes. It looks like the children had rearranged themselves while Regulus was speaking with his father. Pandora was sat on the couch by herself, Evan and Barty having moved to the wingback chairs on either side of it. It doesn’t escape Regulus’ notice that there is now a respectful distance between all of them. He wonders how much of his discussion with his father they heard.
Pandora is staring at Regulus - her large, light blue eyes filled with warmth. They meet his own cold, steely grey from across the room. Regulus schools his expression into one of boredom and comes to stand in front of all three of them.
“Thank you ever so much for paying me a visit today. I am afraid that I have other matters to tend to this evening, so I will have to kindly ask that you leave Grimmauld Place,” He says in a cold but polite tone. Barty, Evan, and Pandora all stare at Regulus with a mix of shock and resignation in their expressions.
Evan is the first to break the awful silence that follows Regulus’ statement. “Right then, so that’s how we’re doing this,” He smacks his palms down against his thighs and stands from his chair, turning to face Regulus.
“It was our pleasure, Regulus. You have been a wonderful host and we would love to do this again sometime,” He smiles warmly, if not a little hesitantly.
“I must agree,” Pandora says, rising to her feet as well with a ‘swish’ of her dress. “Please feel welcome to visit us anytime,” She too smiles warmly, moving to stand right before Regulus and grabbing his hand in her much smaller one. Regulus nods stiffly and smiles back at her, his lips shaking as they struggle to match her expression.
“Can’t say the same for me, I’m afraid!” Barty says from where he is still sitting in his chair next to where Pandora now stands. The other three snap their heads around to stare at him wide-eyed. “Oh, calm your tits. I meant you are not welcome at my house because my Dad is a right git.” He smiles crookedly at Regulus, the two of them sharing a look of understanding. With a grunt, Barty finally stands from his seat and begins swiftly walking towards the fireplace, the others having no choice but to follow his lead. Regulus has a feeling that Barty has had his fair share of situations like this, perhaps from the same position that Regulus finds himself in now.
Regulus bids them all farewell again, handing each of them a handful of floo power. Barty disappears with a smirk and a short, undignified squeal as he swirls away in the green flames. Evan sends one last small smile Regulus’ way before he himself floos out of Grimmauld Place.
Finally, Regulus turns to Pandora, preparing to offer a few more polite words before sending her off. He is shocked when he turns around to face her and is pulled into a short but very tight hug. It has come and gone before Regulus has even had a chance to lift his arms to return the hug, but the warmth from it lingers. Pandora gives Regulus’s cheek a feather-light tap and then wordlessly departs from The Black Family residence. With an exasperated sigh and a fond smile, Regulus sets off to find Kreacher so that the two of them can start tidying the drawing room.