A Brother for a Brother
Bonfire Night, otherwise known as Guy Fawkes Night, is a celebration Regulus struggles to understand.
The muggles in the nearby village have tried to explain it to him. From what he gathers it is an interesting story, for all Regulus thinks it odd to celebrate the attempted destruction of the Muggle Ministry nearly 400 years ago.
He isn’t sure he quite understands it, whether they are celebrating he was caught or that he tried to do it, but he can admire the beauty in which they celebrate. Lighting the sky in harmless colour, a mockery of the pain that was aimed for. Muggles always seemed to have their oddities, and this confirms that for Regulus.
But he does not mean it to be derisive anymore, almost thinks of it fondly. It is a new change for Regulus, this appreciation. He had always thought of Muggles as simple, the unevolved and inferior. He did not truly believe they should be murdered for the offence of being born without magic, but did not think they deserved to be respected for it either.
He has grown beyond that now. He enjoys muggles, finds them intriguing. Enjoys the way their easy charm is not reliant on magic but character, something the Wizarding world is severely missing.
He has come to enjoy simplicity during his year in hiding. Finds peace in his cottage by the sea, finds it has given him the gift of feeling content in ways he never has before. He had always thought himself allergic to such sentiments, that they did not apply to his deformed character. It has been a pleasant discovery, finding out he was wrong.
The house is small, at least for a property of the Sacred 28. He isn’t entirely sure which house it belongs to. It apparently came from Marceline Lestrange’s grandmother, which makes it possible that it used to belong to the Longbottom she was born as or the Greengrass she became. At least if Regulus is remembering his lineages correctly, which he usually is.
It does not belong to them now. It isn’t Regulus’ per se, but he has been very presumptive in his regard of the house. He has replaced the few romance books that lined the shelves with his personal favourites from the adequate library. All golden metalware has been replaced by his preferential silver. The front door, which has now been charmed to give the appearance of a much darker wood like ebony, even has his initials engraved.
He keeps it in good shape, looks after it like one should a child, sees it as such in a way. It is his creation, more so than anything else. While families drowning in riches abandoned it for the pursuit of legacy, Regulus adopted it for the pursuit of happiness.
He likes the house for that, knowing it was never made to be held in such daunting esteem. Like him, it was created to add to the riches of a house, never to be relied on for its legacy. Like him, it has exceeded and subceeded those expectations, hides a legacy that may be the greatest they could hope for or may die out and fizzle into nothing.
It matters little for Regulus, who has come to terms with obscurity, with an irrelevant and ruined legacy. He no longer mistakes worship as to be reserved for power, for eternity. Nothing that should be so revered should be immortal, it is the fleetingness of life that makes it so worthy of love. How can you appreciate something simply because it will be there forever? It will never need to be loved, for the opportunity will always be there.
To hold something, to know how it has rooted itself into your heart specifically, to give a slice of your being to something because it is insignificant, unnecessary but wanted, that is what it is to cherish.
Nothing that lives forever needs to be looked after.
His new home would still stand were he to abandon it, but it would still decay. There will be dust over the floorboards he walks on, covering the pages of his favourite books left untouched. Eventually the wood may rot, the wallpaper would peel. It would become a hovel and shelter for maggots and moths that would eat it where it stood. The love Regulus pours into it keeps it breathing, just as it kept Regulus breathing.
Currently it feels as though it is suffocating him. No longer a home but a prison. He can feel how being restricted to his own company is no less soul sucking than the dementors, yet the idea of seeking out that of others feels as if it will rip him open like the inferi.
He feels a sudden shift in the wards, knows someone is crossing the boundary to the house and knows who it is. He only has one visitor in his isolation, the only one he is allowed.
He keeps his place lying on his back in his garden, yet his eyes roam to take in his new visitor.
Alicent does not look much better than he feels. Her appearance is impeccable, of course. She is dressed in formal robes, a business-esque style to them that tells him she has been somewhere important.
Theministry, he remembers. She had to go to speak with the aurors, defend herself against the backlash of her husband dying an active Death Eater.
He has no interest in asking her how it went, can see the darkness under her eyes, the blood she has drawn from her own fingers. She looks as haggard as she ever has, which speaks volumes.
She in turn offers no information on her visit to Alastor Moody, her own husband's killer. Instead, she simply takes her place on the grass next to him and directs her gaze to the sky.
“They remind me of him.” She directs the statement to the fireworks that light up the sky.
“The fireworks?” He asks, and does not bother asking who she speaks of.
“Yes, do you not see it?”
A noncommittal hum is all he gives in response.
“They’re beautiful and so bright, just like Evan was. Beautiful and bright and fleeting, and then gone” and her voice cracks on admitting that, “just like he is” she whispers.
The next firework is a vibrant green, and it seems fitting given the turn of conversation.
Perhaps once he would have seen it as Slytherin green, or the neon of the killing curse, even the emerald of the poison he ingested in the cave. Now he sees a mirror of the green in Evan’s eyes, eyes that will always be unseeing.
He almost wishes he was haunted by the horrors he had to witness under the influence of Voldemort’s creation. Grief over himself is almost a pleasant poison compared to grief over Evan.
It has been two weeks since his death, once week since his funeral and one week since Alicent turned up at his door to bring down any peace he had built upon his head. It felt inconceivable to him, the image of an Evan that is not filled with life. It is unnatural.
‘You will not be left alone, I promise’ Evan said to him.
He used to be so good at keeping his promises, yet he broke the only one he ever needed him to keep.
It pains him to know Evan did not remember how he helped him, how he saved him. That he thought Regulus ran and fled like a coward, that he was happy to abandon him.
He became the one thing he has feared the most. He became Sirius. Of course outliving the brother within reach is his penance for pushing the other out of it.
Are you up there? he asks the fireworks lighting up the sky. Immortalised in the constellations I know so well, or did you simply fizzle out into oblivion like Alicent seems to suggest?
He understands what she means. Evan lit up a room as if it was as easy as lighting a candle. Despite the dullness of the night around him, Evan never failed to try to inject colour into the bleakness everyone else was drowning in. The idea of having to stumble on the dark without him again is terrifying.
He was also dangerous to those that lit a fire within him, filled with so much passion it may backfire on someone else. Regulus always thought that fire was anger, but listening to the way Alicent is now repressing sobs he knows it was likely something far sweeter.
Was it love? He had never thought so, at least not in the way marriage implies. Evan never felt the need to commit in such a way, felt his ‘love’ was better spent being shared around.
‘Smell the roses when they are in bloom, Reggie. You never know when they will wilt and lose their sweetness.’
Yet Evan always loved more generously than anyone Regulus has ever known, as if he was born for it. He was so unlike Regulus in that way, who always felt as if love was something that should hurt, a double ended sword only for you and your intended to die upon until he knew Evan.
Sadly he does not know the answer to his question. Regulus cannot claim to have been present in Evans life during his last year, cannot claim to anymore have an understanding of his heart.
You did not even know he had defected. You have not seen him in a year. You were as dead to him as he is now to you.
He considers asking Alicent. Wants to beg for any remnant of Evan he can find, bask in the warmth of his affection even if it was not his to bask in. Were she not crying, he thinks he would give in to the impulse, no matter how selfish.
Instead, once her tears seem to have marginally dried, he asks a less selfish and more useful question.
“How was the ministry?”
“Pardon?”
“The ministry. How did it go today with the aurors?”
He can see the confusion on her face clear. “Oh, Of course. Yes, well it went about as well as you could expect. I am not sitting in Azkaban and have not yet been displaced from my home, which is something.”
Not great then. He is sure their questioning has done a number on her.
“Do you think they know? About your mark?”
“I’m not sure. I doubt it, even if Mad-Eye clearly thinks himself sure of it. They have no proof anyways, so I am in the clear.”
He lets out a sigh of relief at that. It is common knowledge that Evan was a Death Eater, public now that he has been killed by Moody. Yet as far as he knows no one is so confident on Alicent. It is safest it remain that way, but unlikely.
“That’s good at least.”
A sigh. “I suppose so.”
“It is. Evan would want you to be safe.”
“He got too used to trying to care for you. There is no such thing as safe now. Not even dead you are safe Regulus, even if you are the closest of us all.”
“I do not want to be.”
“I know, but I want you to be. Evan would want you safe most of all.”
He rolls his eyes at that. “Evan thought I cut and ran, left him to a miserable fate, abandoned him. I doubt he would put my safety first when I gave no indication I would do the same for him.”
“That is not true, none of it. You protected each other as best you could and he loved you for it, even if he did not know. He was proud of you Regulus, would have been even more so if he could see you now.”
At this she briefly places one of her hands over one of his and it is a reminder that he is not the only one who is mourning. They are bleeding from shared wounds, partners in agony.
Evan was their only tether to each other, and still is one even in death. Perhaps now they share the dark knowledge of Horcruxes and the Dark Lord shaped shadow looming over them, but it is Evan which has gifted them such vulnerability.
He may not have Evan, or even Barty or Sirius or Kreacher or Narcissa, but he has someone. It is nice to have a friend.
“Thank you” he chokes out.
She merely smiles kindly at him, her eyes twinkling with fondness and sorrow alike.
The fireworks have ended now, almost as if they knew they were coming to an end of reminiscing about Evan.
He almost misses them and simultaneously never wants to see them again. Alicent was right, they are beautiful, but beauty means little when he has to bask in it alone. The foulness of loss is more powerful than the beauty of life, yet we chase things to lose still.
Is it not cruel for a thing to be so glorious if it only means to leave?
He is not sure, but he abhors the idea of referring to Evan as cruel for the way he loved and cared for him. It is dishonour, to reject such intimacy on the basis of pain. He has grown used to it enough, and can bare more of it for the only true friend he has had all his life.
Alicent changes the subject, perhaps to save him from drowning in his own sorrows, perhaps to save herself. “There is something else we must discuss.”
He knew this discussion was coming, and is fully aware of how they have boxed themselves in. With three of them, they had a safety net. If one were to die, at least no one would be left on their own. Now, however, they have lost the luxury.
“You want to recruit someone” he guesses.
“I want to ask you why you did it. Going to the cave to die that is. You did it completely alone, but why?”
The question takes him by surprise, because it is an obvious answer he has given her before. The Dark Lord repulses him, and such grotesque butchery of the soul cannot go unanswered, so he tells her as much.
“No, not that. I mean, why did you do it alone? You did not turn to anyone for help, simply took the plunge straight towards dying. You did not have to, there were others you could have turned to for help. If not your parents or Evan, that I understand, why not Dumbledore? Your brother even, did you not trust them?
“No, it’s not that. Not entirely” he answers her, because it is not. He doesn't trust Dumbledore, has no reason to despite him being a figurehead in the fight against the Dark Lord. He did not trust Evan, nor any of his family. As far as he knew they were (and are) firmly in the Dark Lord’s pocket.
But why didn’t you tell Sirius? He still trusts him, despite everything. So many see his brother as simple, little more than a rebel without a cause, acting out for the show and nothing of substance. Regulus knows better.
No one else saw him for who he was. Everyone said he will return at the first sign of life struggle outside of the Nobel House of Black, or he will perish from the might of the Dark Lord. They were ignorant to his strength, to the way he never faltered from his father, would always match his mother, refuted their grandfather's lessons. Sirius had strength in his convictions, knew how to stand by them.
He was not always smart, nor kind, nor good. He has done, and continues to do, things Regulus does not have the stomach for. In all honesty, Sirius would make a great Death Eater if only he shared in the ideology.
But he didn’t. Sirius had a talent for seeing people as they are, was uncompromising with what he saw as truth. Even as children, it was Sirius who seemed to have the instinctive knowledge life was unfair to them, that their family was. It did not stop him loving them, besides James Potter, Regulus is unsure anyone can compare to the love between his brother and mother, except perhaps Bellatrix, yet he still saw them as they were.
It was inevitable he would see through the lies of blood supremacy, would fight against it. He may have had more help coming to this realisation than Regulus, but he is also sure he needed it far less.
He also no longer doubts his brother loves him, would help him if he asked for it. Sirius was the only one who ever tried to fight for him, stood up for him when it was in his best interest not to. Sirius was cruel in the way he tried to show Regulus another way, but at least he tried.
It was not enough for him to turn to him during his darkest hour, because Regulus decided he would rather die than bare his broken pride to his own brother.
“I don’t trust Dumbledore, or any of the order. They do not understand this war, not truly, and I have no intentions of being a puppet on a string.”
“And Sirius?” she probes.
“It isn’t that I don’t trust him, even with this I would. But I- I didn’t want him to know, to see me like that” he quietly finishes his admission.
“And what about now?” She asks.
“Why are you asking this?” He counters.
“I have been given the post at Gringotts, taking over Evan’s work.”
“Sounds like congratulations are in order.”
“Yes, it does. It is also more work. I have done all I can to help protect Dumbledore’s Order but I fear I cannot do it alone anymore.”
“Why Sirius?” He asks, because the rest makes good sense but she doesn't know his brother at all as far as he is aware.
“That is why I am asking, because I trust your judgement. We need someone else we can trust and I think it may work if it were him.”
Regulus had not considered involving his brother in the mess they have caught themselves up with. Ever since Sirius left he has had a repulsion to the thought of going to him for help, for needing him. Sirius is not his parent, his guardian, his keeper. He cannot fight all of Regulus’ battles for him, no matter how much either of them used to wish that was true.
The compulsion to spit any help he is offered back at the giver has receded now. If it were not for the help he has received, from Kreacher, from Evan, even from the person lying beside him, he would be dead. Little more than a footnote in the House of Black, responsible for its death. A boy who tried to chase after valour but ended up catching up with his own demise.
There is also the fact that Sirius is also a brilliant wizard, a point of resentment for the less talented Regulus. If anyone could be trusted to defeat a Horcrux, it is Sirius.
“So do I” he replies to Alicent, and seals his brother's fate.
“It will have to be you he speaks to, you understand this?”
“I am capable of speaking to my brother, despite popular opinion.”
She softly laughs at that. “Of course, ridiculous of me to doubt it.”
“Yes, it was” he laughs back before growing more sombre. “Whether or not Sirius is capable of speaking to his dead Death Eater brother is a separate question” he says, rather self-deprecatingly.
It is true, for all his brother loves him and will try to do the right thing, he isn’t too sure on how exactly they will get the opportunity to explain all of this.
“He has been looking for you, any information on your death. Quite ruthless in his quest, actually.”
“Sirius is ruthless in anything he does” he snaps back at her, because he hates the idea of the mad and mourning Sirius she sometimes paints for him.
“He cares, and if he thinks he can avenge you he will come.”
“We’ll see” is his only response to that.
He is not sure he believes her, does not share in her faith. He hopes she is right, that Sirius will answer his call, will not give up on his search for the dead just before his resurrection.
He hopes he will, because Regulus has missed his brother, the only family that may ever be able to belong to him again. He was not worthy of him before he went into the cave, but in the bloody and infested water he began the process of cleansing himself of the filth he wore so proudly for years. Has scrubbed himself down to a person Sirius may be proud to call a brother.
Please, he achingly begs the stars. Give me this. You have taken one brother from me, give me the other.
Maybe they will refuse him. Maybe they won’t, only to rip him from his arms before he gets the chance to properly hold him. Maybe they will give him his brother, only for his brother not to take him back.
Is it better to lose Sirius, or for him to stay lost? He asks himself, and the answer is simple.
He resigned himself to losing Evan once, when he attempted to fast forward his fate. Instead he was gifted with him in his entirety, a better version of the fractured image he thought he knew.
Does Sirius not deserve the same? Regulus has changed, is becoming closer to the person he wishes to be each day, and he knows he would not have done so without his brother. It is his example he followed into the cave, his lessons he has reminded himself of each day to keep himself going. This feels Sirius’ accomplishment as much as it is Regulus’, so he will be damned if he withholds that from him.
You owe it to him, and it is that idea that makes up his mind.
Regulus is going to get his brother back, come hell or high water.