The Brighter Star

Regulus Black’s P.O.V.

I loved you like Icarus loved the Sun:

Too close

Too much

James Potter was the Sun. There was no other way of putting it. A motherfucking walking celestial body encapsulated in human form. The very center of a galaxy of people, friends and enemies, who would orbit around his gravitational pull. Everyone was simply sunflowers, inclining their existence towards James. Because there was no other way of feeling when it came about him. You would either hate James Potter or love him. And if you were stupid enough to hate him, it was either because you wanted to be him or with him. And wasn’t.

But none of that was new. Regulus knew that. And he knew that because everyone knew that. Every single person in that goddamn castle knew that James Potter shone brighter and stronger than most. Because he did. Maybe it was his laugh. Loud and captivating, that would make you laugh along, even if you didn’t know the reason why he was laughing. A sound that would echo through the corridors of Hogwarts, all around the Central Hall, into the classrooms and the dorms, like sunshine through glass windows, preventing darkness from ever taking full custody of those walls.

Maybe it was his brain. Fucking genius, the boy. That kind of student that teachers didn’t know if they hate or love, that would always erupt pure chaos in class, but would get straight As in every single test and deliver every homework in perfect state and with extra information about the topic. Really irritating. It could also be the fact that he played Quidditch like a pro, being the star of the Gryffindor team, winning matches after matches. The Golden boy. Or maybe it was his annoying confidence. Because James fucking Potter knew all of those things about himself. He knew he was too smart for most people. He knew he was too talented for most people, too handsome, too good, too much. So he would walk around with that smirk on his lips, of someone who knew a secret no one else knew. He probably did, anyway. Always surrounded by his three closest friends, who were just as annoyingly good as him. And shining. Always shining. It was quite blinding, if you were to be honest. Just looking at James could easily blind your senses.

But those were not the only truths about him. Regulus knew that too. He knew that James was one of, if not the most, loyal friend one could have. That he would rather die than betray any of the closest people around him. Regulus also knew that James was always prone to help those Gryffindor students who were having hard times in any of the classes. It wasn’t difficult to find James studying with some student below his year in the library at any given time. But the most infuriating thing about James was how he loved. Like pretty much everything about James Potter, he would never do it by half. When James loved, anything and/or anyone, he would give his entire heart to it. James loved intensely, completely, unquestionably, just like his existence as a whole. Regulus knew all of that, because James had taken his brother from him. Regulus’s brother, Sirius Black, was James’s bestest friend, which allowed Regulus to watch everything they did ever so closely, but never to be part of. Every day, inside that castle, Regulus would watch James and Sirius rule that place, their friendship, bit by bit, entering Hogwarts’ story, becoming legends set in stone, not brothers by blood, but bound by love.

And what about Regulus?

At first, he had hated James. Hated his light, hated the sound of his laugh, the way people would talk about him as if they were talking about some famous figure. He hated his easy-going way of living, the way his tie was sometimes loose around his neck, how his hair would always look messy, as if he had just left a Quidditch match, and how he could still look absurdly good-looking anyway. He had hated the adoration in the teachers’ eyes when talking about James. He had hated the little giggles from girls and boys when James would interact with them. He had hated everything related to James Potter. He had cultivated that hatred with care, because it meant safety. It took a while for him to understand that it was easier and safer to hate James Potter than to try to understand why he hated him so much.

Eventually, and painfully, around his third year in Hogwarts, when he was 13, he came about the conclusion that it was just pure and completely admiration. That the hatred for the Potter boy, the one who had stolen his brother from him, was out of the fact that he couldn’t be like him, that he would never be like him and that he wanted to be like him so bad, because that way, he would have been able to keep Sirius closer. That way, he would have still been a little brother. He would have still been Sirius’ boy.

So, that burning rage inside of him turned into sadness and loneliness. He tendered it with care as well, the fact that the most perfect boy in the world had taken his big brother from him and that there was nothing he could do or have done to prevent it from happening. He wasn't perfect, after all. But then, when things turned impossible in the Black house, when Regulus and Sirius’ parents became so abusive that Regulus really thought about dying, purposely dying, Sirius decided to leave the house for good. So he left and moved to the Potter’s house and Regulus was sure he would be left behind, to die in the hands of his parents. But he wasn’t. Sirius, who had only shown devotion for James in the past five years, took Regulus under his wings and both the Black brothers were disinherited, burned in the Black tapestry, and were welcomed with all the affection and attention in the world by James Potter's parents. And that was how, in the fourth year of Hogwarts, being fourteen years old, Regulus Black started sharing the same living space with the boy he first hated, and then admired, both with the strength of ten thousand burning suns.

Not that much changed. Sirius and James became even closer, if that was possible. But, in an unexpected turn of events, Sirius and Regulus’ relationship got better as well. They also got closer and Regulus went back to being Sirius Black’s baby brother, right what he was before James. And with that, his feelings wouldn’t make sense anymore. Again. Because now, he couldn’t keep saying to himself that James had stolen his brother. He had his brother back, even if it meant James would tag along. So that left Regulus revisiting the proper nature of his feelings. He would sometimes catch himself staring at James during meals. At his messy hair, his hazelnut eyes, the sound of his laugh invading his mind, louder than any sound around. At night times, he would relive, in his mind, the times where James would interact with him, calling him nicknames.

“Morning, Baby Black!”

James would say every single time they would meet in the corridors before the first class of the day, or during breakfast.

“Fuck off, Potter”

-was always Regulus' answer. And James would laugh it off, loudly, captivating and bright like the first ray of sunshine after days of pouring rain, like Regulus being offensive towards him was the best thing that could ever happen to him that day.

“Heey, Reggie! How's going?”

James would ask whenever they met up in the afternoons, even if they had met before, in the morning, trying to mess with Regulus' hair.

"It was better before meeting you”

Regulus would answer, bored, letting it clear he really didn’t fancy meeting him at all, pushing James' hand away.

Or

"I don’t recall being your friend for you to call me by my first name, let alone Reggie”.

And for that, James would always say, dramatically, with his right hand on his chest, tilting his head just a bit to the side, puppy hazelnut eyes and all:

"Stop breaking my heart, Reggie”

And Regulus would roll his eyes and keep walking, like he didn’t care for James’ existence. But he knew, Regulus knew, his own heart would skip a beat, and would race faster every time James would interact with him. Every time he would call him Reggie, or tried to run his fingers through his hair. It didn’t take a genius to understand why Regulus would feel that way. And he was, Regulus was, indeed, quite smart. He had been in love all the time, hadn’t he? All the time he hated James, all the time he admired James, all of that, he was simply and irrevocably in love with James Potter, wasn't he? Wasn't he?! 

It was one night, during a very intense episode of insomnia, thinking about all of those things that Regulus realized, with an ache in his chest, that the true nature of his feeling was love. He panicked, standing up from his bed, trying not to wake up any of his roommates, and went down to the common room. There, he sat for the whole night in front of the fireplace, revisiting every single moment he could ever remember with James, and every single feeling attached to it, while looking at the fire. After that night, he knew he would never be the same. He thought about Plato (yeah, he had read Plato, so what?) and the myth of the cave. He thought about looking at the light for the first, real time, instead of looking at the shadow of it. James’ light…

So, in front of the fireplace, during a cold night, in the Slytherin common room, Regulus accepted, saddened, that he too, just like that whole castle, had fallen for James Potter. He accepted, defeated, that he was no different than those he thought less of. Those he considered stupid for falling for such a cliché that James was. No, Regulus wasn’t immune to his charm after all. He was probably having a moment that everyone else in Hogwarts also had had. The epiphany of Oh fuck, I’m in love with James Potter! But because he was a Black after all, he could have some win over all of it, some dignity. He raised his head, eyes sharp looking at the fire in the fireplace, and decided that no one, no one would ever come to know it. It could eat him inside, this… this thing, these pathetic feelings he had, but it was his own, and nobody else’s. No one would ever come to know that he, too, was a sunflower, that he, too, had fallen for the Sun. No one would know it. Especially the Sun himself.

James Potter’s P.O.V.

I'm still on that trapeze 

I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me

The world in the view of James Potter was reasonably simple. It was possibly a childish way of seeing it, but, for James, everything was quite dualistic. Good and bad. Right and wrong. Perfect and disaster. Love and hate. Not that he realized he viewed things that way, but he did.

You see, one has to be patient with James, in order to understand his perspective. He was born in a wealthy family. Not that it was something that he would brag about, but in a way, it spared him from a lot of evil the world has to present to those who struggle financially, and it helped him to develop his dualistic view of everything.

Another important fact about James was his parents. Fleamont and Euphemia were the most loving parents one could ever ask for, not only to James, but to each other. It changes something, in you, when you grow up in an environment that creates such a soothing, loving and welcoming atmosphere, where your view of love is so real and palpable because your parents love each other that much. So, you see, for James, everything that was not what he had witnessed and felt his whole life, it automatically meant something bad, right? Anything different from what he was raised in meant something bad. Right?! And that was his universal truth, until James was eleven years old and started his journey in Hogwarts. Because, you see, that was when he met Sirius Black. 

James was an only child. He had never known what it meant to have siblings. He never wished for it, because he had never felt like there was something he was missing in his perfect existence. But that was until Sirius Black came into his life. It was as if, all of a sudden, he had found the missing puzzle piece he didn’t know it was missing, in the first place!

Sirius was noisy and loud and brave and everything James was, but different, at the same time. Both of them could enter a room, alone, and would, automatically, be noticed. For James, it was because, most likely, he was friends with everyone in the room or had had an exchange with them, enough for the person not to forget about him. For Sirius, he would announce himself, not to a person specifically, but maybe by his tone of voice, followed by the way he would run his fingers through his hair and smirk. He would call everyone’s attention naturally, just like that. James was pure charisma and sweet smiles, while Sirius was pure charm and treacherous smirks. They were a dangerous pair.

But Sirius was a result of everything James didn’t know and didn’t like. The Blacks, they were not like the Potters and, throughout the years, James got to know the emotional baggage that his best friend, his brother by love, carried with him, because of his abusive parents. It was confusing, for James, how come someone as amazing as Sirius could have come out of a family like the Blacks. Walburga and Orion were… They were simply not like Fleamond and Euphemia. During their years in Hogwarts, It took a lot from James to witness the traumas Sirius carried with him because of all the abuse he suffered in his house.

So yeah, Sirius was an exception in the line of thinking James had of life. He was the something good that can come out of something bad that people usually talk about. And James could live with that.

But Sirius wasn’t the only thing that came out of the Black family.

You see, back when they were eleven, and they were getting to know each other, one of the first pieces of information James got from Sirius was that he himself had a brother. A younger one. Regulus Black was his name. Sirius’s face would light up when he talked about his baby brother, which he would do fast and enthusiastically. 

“He’s a lot like me, like, we kind of look alike, but he has bluish, grayish eyes, instead of, you know, black, like mine. And he is skinnier, paler and quieter, but we have the same hair and… You know, you just have to meet him! Which you will, next year!”

It was a bummer then, when Sirius came back to Hogwarts, after Christmas break, whispering, like a secret no one was supposed to know, like the beginning of something bad that, if you say too loud, makes it more real, that Regulus had been acting differently .

“I mentioned you and he didn’t care” said Sirius “and when I tried to show him our pictures, he said he didn’t want to see it, and… and then he spent the whole time in his bedroom and he barely said bye when I was coming back!” Confessed eleven years old Sirius, with watery eyes. “He didn't even go to the train station with us to see me embark…”

And it pained James, personally, seeing how hurt Sirius was by Regulus’ behavior and, for a while, he didn’t like Regulus anymore, even though he hadn’t met him yet.. Actually, for a while, he had lost his excitement to meet the younger Black. But it was only for a while. Because almost immediately, his brain came up with a plan. 

You see, James, being born and raised in such an environment where he hadn’t experienced neglect or harsh words made him a very difficult person to accept “no” as an answer, or defeat in any way whatsoever. And he was facing that situation as a “no”. He meant, how could Regulus act in that way when he hadn’t even seen how incredible it was to be around him and Sirius? So James was sure that, as soon as the younger Black got to Hogwarts and started hanging out with Sirius and him, he would automatically love Sirius back and, as a side effect, love James as well. It was not a plan, per se , but it was the logical conclusion. And he told Sirius that and reassured him that all would work out well in the end.

Clearly, both of them were quite surprised, and not in a good way,  at the beginning of their second year at Hogwarts, Regulus’ first year, when he was sorted into the Slytherin House, and not the Gryffindor, where both James and Sirius belonged.. Actually, “ disappointed”, crestfallen even, was the best word to describe it, especially for Sirius. 

James, though, besides everything, he was… He was quite… Actually, he didn’t know how he was, completely. Obviously, he didn’t like that Regulus wasn’t a Griffindor, but then, seeing him, seeing Sirius’ younger brother for the very first time, the only thing James could think was “ where else was he supposed to be?” . Was Sirius blind? Or maybe too biased?

Looking at Regulus, he could see that the boy, in a way, was indeed Sirius' brother, but not for the reasons he had listed. In fact, he was Sirius’ brother for all the reasons Sirius had forgotten to mention. 

Regulus had the pose only someone from a noble family would have. James could recognize that pose in himself, even unconsciously. A posture that would exhale confidence. Sirius had that too, but different than him, Regulus’ air had a tint of… of… Was it arrogance? James couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he had his chin up and his gray eyes ( that wasn’t blue Sirius, really ) were cold, so cold and his black curls, long, but shorter than Sirius’, had nothing of the messiness that was Sirius’ hair. His tie was perfectly tied around his neck, there were no wrinkles on his uniform, he didn’t look scared, like all of the other first years. Quite the opposite, he looked… bored. His face looked bored. 

Oh, his face… Twelve years old James paid quite a bit of attention to that. Regulus had a strong nose, not big but sharp, just like the rest of the lines of his angular face. His cheekbones were protruding and his jawline… James thought that one could have his finger cut if tracing those jawlines. James thought a lot of things looking at Regulus, but the one that stood the most was that that boy didn’t belong in Gryffindor at all . He didn’t belong in Slytherin as well, though, or Hogwarts, for what mattered. In James’ head, he belonged in a history book. One about Royalty. About princes and castles and nobility. The reality hit him like a punch. Regulus was not at all what James had thought he was. He didn’t fit in the idea James had created about Sirius’s younger brother. No… Yet, James had never felt so drawn to a person like he felt when he first saw the younger Black, and yet, it would take James years to understand

Barty Crouch Jr’s P.O.V. - Part I

Family ain't who you are born with

It's who you die for

Barty Crouch Jr. had been way too young to understand that his father’s rejection had nothing to do with who his son was and everything to do with the man Mr Crouch could not, or did not, want to be. You see, it is a very painful experience, being neglected by a parent figure during such an early age. It can make one question everything they know about themselves… It can turn all your feelings into insecurities. It can close your heart for good and prevent you from having a healthy, fulfilling childhood. It can define who you are and who you will be for the rest of your life… 

In a way, Mr. Crouch's actions did indeed leave a mark on Barty, shaping the very essence of the person he eventually became, but the outcome was far from the expected norm. Barty was presented with a path that would have been as effortless as a walk in the park: a path where he could cease to hold affection for anyone or anything, surrendering himself to a vacuum of emptiness. He could have transmuted into a fragile cocoon of self-pity and self-loathing, a minuscule seed of despair in the vast garden of existence. It would have been way too simple, keeping his father away from any sort of trouble or complications by being an unproblematic, emotionless son. It would have been a gift to Mr Crouch, even. The easiest route. No, Barty could not allow that. If Mr Crouch considered Barty to be a burden, the son he had never asked to have , Barty would wear that title like a crown. If he were seen as a burden, then a burden he would proudly be.

That way, Barty Crouch Jr learned at a very early age how to turn emptiness into wrath. How he could fill the hollow in his chest with his father’s face of frustration. How he could sleep peacefully knowing he had destroyed his father’s day, week, month, life , simply by embodying the antithesis of the son he was expected to be.

He tamed the inner beast that roared within his soul through a relentless symphony of rebellion, each act more audacious than the last, until the beast became his indomitable companion. How the beast would keep the tears from falling. How, eventually, those tears ceased to even muster the courage to fall. Fed by the rage within him, the beast became his only ally.

He knew his father was desperate to send him to Hogwarts. To get rid of him once and for all. He almost considered not going, just to make him even more frustrated. But defying a parent, even for an eleven year old, can be really tiring. And secretly, Barty wanted to get away from his father as well…

When the sorting hat chose Slytherin to be Barty’s house, though, he didn’t think things had changed much. He knew that even by sitting at that stool, feeling ridiculous with that pathetic hat on his head, he was, just as always, disappointing his Gryffindor father.

In a way, he was right. Throughout the years spent in Hogwarts, even away from his family, Barty would disappoint his father over and over again. On purpose or by accident. The difference was that it stopped being Barty's priority. By being sorted into the Slytherin, either by coincidence or fate, the universe had given Barty other reasons to be. Happier, healthier ones. And they were called Evan Rosier  and Regulus Black.

It didn’t take Barty long to understand that Evan was everything he never knew he ever wanted. Fuck, he never knew he could ever wanted.

During the first weeks, Barty would feel embarrassed when Rosier was around. Embarrassed! The boy who had started smoking muggle cigarettes when he was eight because he knew his father would be infuriated. The boy who didn’t stop smoking muggle cigarettes because he liked how light headed it would make him feel and how easier it was to calm the beast inside his chest. Barty Crouch Jr, who had carved a skull on his forearm with a piece of broken glass when he was ten only to see it bleed, could feel himself getting blushed everytime Evan Rosier was close.

It would make his blood boil at the same time it would turn him into a mush of clumsiness, dropping his books on the floor and all. At least, no one could blame him. Evan Rosier was the most gorgeous human being Barty had ever put his eyes on. He was pretty sure his skin was made out of porcelain and his eyes were bluer than the clearest sky during a Summer day; 

Evan was as tall as Barty, but different than him, the blonde boy was quiet, composed and everything Barty wasn’t. And for a while, it bothered Barty. It would make him feel powerless because he had fought his whole childhood not to become the loser his father wanted him to feel like he was, and then, miles away from his house, he was suddenly not feeling enough because of a boy .

But it didn’t take long for things to change…

Mulciber was a Slytherin as well. He was one year older than Barty and his father was serving time in Azkaban due to a sentence Barty’s father had given him. One day, Mulciber decided that it was time for a little revenge.

No one could actually say what Mulciber said in the first place, to provoke Barty. Mostly because the witnesses didn’t want to repeat Mulciber’s words out of fear.

The fact was that he probably didn’t expect Barty to answer back, that was for sure. The result was a broken bloody nose for the younger Slytherin, a knife stuck on Mulciber’s shoulder and quite a lot of blood, coming from a fight between a first and a second year. 

It happened in the Slytherin Common Room. Mulciber didn’t allow anyone to call the professors, because he didn’t want any more detention. At least it was what he said. The whispers were that he got scared, because after stabbing him on the shoulders with a pocket knife,11 year-old Barty kept smiling, creepily, waiting for the come back, chin up, blood dripping down his nose, red stains on his white t-shirt. 

When Mulciber and his friends fled the scene to the second year dormitory, Barty looked around, his bloody smile never leaving his lips. Evan Rosier had his baby blue eyes wide open and, next to him, Regulus Black was smirking. Barty smirked back. And that was it.

Regulus brought him back to the first year male dorm and healed his nose. Evan tagged along. The three of them had never exchanged words before, but that was in the past. 

“Mulciber is an asshole,” Evan whispered, while Regulus was performing some small spells on Barty’s nose. Barty smirked, suddenly feeling quite confident.

“Didn’t know you were a mouthful, Rosier”

And the blonde boy had the audacity to blush. Barty’s smirk grew bigger.

“Fuck off, Crouch”

Barty laughed. Regulus got irritated.

“Shut your mouth, both of you. And you”

Regulus poked Barty’s face”

“keep yourself in place if you want your nose to go back to what it was”

In the years to come, the three of them became one single thing. Barty was all emotions and punching first, asking later. Regulus was the opposite, quiet arrogance, unbearably smart, all sarcasm and wit. Evan… For everyone else, Evan was the balance of the other two. But Barty liked to joke that Reggie was the brain, Barty was the muscle, and Evan was the beauty. No one had to know he wasn’t actually joking.

For Barty, it was the most exquisite form of self destruction. He never denied to himself he loved Evan, not even from the start. But the boy who would break the laws his own father had created, just for fun, was too scared of making any sort of move. Because having Evan in his life? Oh boy…

Loving Evan was getting way too drunk for a twelve year old and yet, having the boy that unknowingly broke his heart to hold his head while he vomited all the content of his stomach in a toilet.

Loving Evan was waking up hungover and sick and realizing that there was already breakfast on a trail on your nightstand, with a note: “get better soon, idiot. E.R.” in cute handwriting.

Loving Evan was sharing cigarettes, matching tattoos for birthdays and spending Christmas holidays in Hogwarts. Loving Evan was realizing how lonely he had been his whole life and slowly forgetting it all at once because Barty was never lonely anymore. 

Loving Evan was ignoring personal space, sitting on each other’s laps, unexpected hugs in public places and walking around wearing each other’s clothes. It was sharing beds during stormy nights, not because they were scared, but because both of them loved being awake during thunderstorms, and falling asleep in each other’s arms. Loving Evan was excruciating, because they were too close to be just friends, too intimate, and yet, never anything else than the closest two friends can be.

One could say Barty liked the pain. One could be right. But now that Barty knew what it was like to have Evan in his life, he would never live one day without him. Even if it hurts. Even if it crushed Barty’s heart whenever Evan was sitting on his lap and Barty could smell his shampoo. Even if that was all he could ever have. Because Evan Rosier was addictive and even after years of acting tough, Barty simply couldn’t walk away.

Luckily for Barty, though, he also had Regulus.