Days
Regulus Black felt that he must be the most jaded ten-year-old on the planet. In his first decade of life, he had died seventeen times and watched his brother die thrice. He’d spent the last three years reading anything and everything that was even remotely related to divination in the hopes of being able to gain better control over his visions and find his brother’s murderer.
Unfortunately, it appeared as though past generations of Blacks were far too focused on expanding their collection of works pertaining to the Dark Arts to have much of an interest in the nuances of Seeing. Regulus went through every single book in their library and read the ones on Seers multiple times each, but he had still found nothing. History cared far too much about the prophecies that his kin provided and not enough about how they managed they came to be.
He wasn’t able to get very many new books on the subject, either. Not without raising suspicion from his parents. Thus, as Regulus Black celebrated turning ten, he made the same wish he had every day since he was seven.
I wish to become a better Seer to prevent the terrible fate that lies ahead. I wish to do what my visions claim I cannot. I wish to save my brother.
…
Sirius had started refusing haircuts shortly after he turned nine. In a little over two years it had grown long enough for the bottom pieces to brush the nape of his neck and curve around the contours of his jaw. Regulus’s own hair just barely curled around his ears in a wavier texture and not quite the same dark shade as his brother’s. The boys both had their hair forcibly tamed by their mother this morning before donning the nicest of their day robes. She had to make sure that they looked the part of the infamous Black heirs for today’s excursion. Regulus found his eyes drawn to Sirius’s bare neck and wondered what color tie would be there come nightfall. The Blacks were Slytherins, that was an indisputable fact that everyone knew and didn’t question. A little voice in the back of his mind whispered that his brother would never allow himself to bear a green and silver noose.
“Relax, Siri. You’re going to wear a hole into the floor,” Regulus commented from where he sat primly on the bed, watching his brother pace back and forth. Sirius was twirling his wand between his fingers with a level of dexterity that most eleven-year-olds did not possess, but he had been fidgeting with the thing every day since it chose him at Oleander’s.
“I can’t relax, we’re leaving any minute now! I’m going to Howarts, Reg. Hogwarts! You know how long I’ve been dreaming of this, I’m finally getting out. I’ll be at school for most of the year and can finally make some friends! I get to experience the world outside of this godforsaken manor and be away from our parents.”
Regulus pretended it didn’t sting to hear how excited Sirius was to leave, to abandon him here with no one but Mother, Father, and Kreacher for company. He knew the older boy was too caught up in the first year craze to consider what his departure meant for the younger Black. It still hurt.
A sharp crack echoed through the room as Kreacher appeared. “The Mistress says the young masters must be joining her downstairs now.”
The boys exchanged a look, both nervous but for different reasons. After a quick check in the mirror to make sure that there wasn’t any part of them in disarray, they quickly jogged down the stairs, footsteps feather-light from years of practice.
Orion and Walburga Black were the picture of stiff nobility from where they stood before the fireplace. Both in neatly pressed black robes with accents of dark green and silver, there was no doubting that these were well-bred Slytherins ready to display their superiority as they dropped their eldest son off for his first year at Hogwarts. They complimented each other perfectly; outfits carefully selected, hair and nails trimmed elegantly, and matching scowls set upon their faces. A perfect couple presenting a united front, some might say. To Regulus, they looked more like a firing squad.
“Remember who you are, Sirius.” Orion gave him a stern once-over before grabbing both of their arms in a firm grip. Walburga placed her bony hands on Regulus’s shoulder and he suppressed a shiver when the sickening sensation of apparition washed over him. He stumbled into Sirius’s side as they materialized onto platform 9 ¾, his mother’s fingers digging sharply into his skin.
Taking a moment to right himself, Regulus glanced around the platform to find it completely packed with children and their parents. Noise attacked him from all angles as teenagers shouted to their friends and the train whistle blew a fifteen minute warning. He glanced at Sirius to find him completely alight with excitement, eyes flicking rapidly between groups of kids as though already scoping out potential friends.
“Tell me the rules, again,” Walburga commanded. Her sharp eyes were fixated dangerously on her eldest son.
Sirius’s smile fell and he straightened his back. “I am to sit with the cousins for the entirety of the train ride and, upon arrival at Hogwarts, I will act with the decorum expected of a Black and be sorted into Slytherin,” he recited dutifully. Only Regulus noticed the gleam of defiance as he spoke.
Orion stared down his nose at the Heir Black. “Make us proud, son.” Walburga nodded in assent. Just like that, he was dismissed.
Sirius’s eyes flicked over to his brother. He cleared his throat. “May I say goodbye to Regulus before I leave?”
Their parents exchanged a look of displeasure before Walburga squared off her expression, a jaw twitch signaling her disapproval. “Make it quick.”
Regulus stared into his big brother’s eyes, trying to find the words for everything he wanted to say. Have fun, I’ll miss you, please don’t go. He knew he was going to be punished for this later, but he couldn’t stop himself from dashing forwards and wrapping his arms around Sirius’s midsection. The older boy clutched him back just as tightly, both mourning their inevitable separation the moment they let go.
Regulus stifled a yelp as a thin hand grabbed his arm and pulled him back, hard. “Compose yourselves,” Walburga hissed. Sirius stared at his brother with such desperation and sorrow, for a moment Regulus thought he was going to insist on staying. He didn’t.
“Time to go,” Orion put one hand on his wife’s back and the other on his youngest son’s shoulder. Regulus kept his eyes fixed on Sirius for as long as he could, just barely catching a mouthed ‘Goodbye’ as the tug of apparition pulled on his navel and the train station disappeared.
They landed harshly in the foyer of Grimmauld Place, Kreacher already waiting to announce that lunch was ready. His parents released their grips on him and strode into the dining room, their conversation turned to the newest member of the Wizengamot.
Regulus remained where he was and listened numbly as their voices faded away, leaving behind the familiar, suffocating silence of his family home. They couldn’t have been gone for more than ten minutes, yet it felt like his entire life had been irreversibly changed. Ten minutes was all it took for him to be left all alone.
It’ll be fine, he told himself, he’s just gone until the holidays, and he promised to write every week. Everything will be alright.
He ignored the hollow feeling of abandonment that had settled into his chest.
Everything will be just fine.