Diagon Alley
Regulus was sweating in his black dress, which his parents had chosen for him. He had tried to raise his long linen sleeves, but the shirt was too well fitted, and, in addition to sticking to his skin, those sleeves clipped his wrists unheededly. He grimaced slightly by pulling on the collar of his shirt, with the impression of suffocating.
Beside him, Sirius had already unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt, and Regulus was relieved that he did not do more. Even if their parents were not with them, as soon as they returned home, Walburga and Orion would hasten to question Kreattur about the behavior of their two sons. Regulus still did not understand why they simply did not come with them; in order to make sure in time that the last Blacks honor the name they wore.
When he had asked Sirius the question before taking the Floo powder, his brother had replied that it was to give them a reason to correct them, if they ever made a mistake. And Regulus feared that it did
The chimney ride had taken them away from the Diagon Alley. According to Sirius, that was how they had done the past year. According to their parents, the Blacks should never mingle with others, and this also included how to get to the Diagon Alley. It was a laborious but nevertheless necessary organisation.
Yet, despite the heat and sun that was knocking over his head, Regulus was almost impatient at the thought of discovering this place. Last year, despite his insistence, his parents opposed the fact that he was accompanying them with his brother. For Sirius, his parents had made the trip for his purchases. Undoubtedly, for this was the first year of their heir.
Obviously, Regulus was not worth it. And if spending several hours with his parents, watching any of his actions, wasn’t what was missing from Regulus, he would not have been sad to learn that he deserved the attention of his parents too. And sometimes he happened to him to hate Sirius for not realize that.
But today Regulus didn’t want to argue with his brother. In any case, it would be him who would win. Since the day the Rosiers had dined at home, Sirius ruled between them a distance and a coldness that Regulus didn’t know between them. The two brothers were doing their best to get things back to the way they did, the youngest saw it, and he hoped that this day would allow them to mend what had been broken between them that night.
Then when the small group, composed of Sirius, Kreattur, and him, finally entered the Diagon Alley, the noise, the crowd, and the surrounding excitement did not frighten Regulus. He, who had barely come out of his home since childhood, was not accustomed to being so surrounded, to being confronted with this kind of situation. However, the prospect of getting closer to Sirius before the re-entry made him momentarily forget his unease. As long as he remained with Sirius, everything would be fine.
-My masters have already asked Kreattur to withdraw the money for my young masters. Young masters can immediately start shopping.
Regulus turned to their house elve, and smiled at him.
-Thank you Kreattur. Sirius, do you want to start with something in particular?
Sirius, who had until then ignored the elf, turned to his brother with a splendid smile. A smile that had allowed him to win the friendship of many people, if Regulus believed what he was saying to him. A resplendent smile filled with a trust that Regulus didn’t know, but which was his brother's daily life. The kind of smile that hid something, and he felt it was not going to please him.
-They took out a new collection of brooms. Are you coming with me?
-The brooms?
If Regulus remembered, the brooms were not in the list of supplies transmitted by Hogwarts, not to mention the list that Walburga had modified for them. Moreover, Quidditch had never had a great place in their lives.
They had never had the opportunity to practice this sport in the heart of Muggle London, and Regulus wondered where this sudden passion came from. Probably Hogwarts. He wondered how many other things had he missed during those months away from his brother ?
-Yes, I intend to try to join the team as a Beater.
-But... you're not even flying.
Sirius smiled with mischief, the kind of smile that meant he had done something that their mother would disapprove.
-I caught up this year. James helped me learn the basics.
-Ah.
Regulus was not going to complain. It had been a while since Sirius had spoken of James, and his brother finally spoke to him normally. This was not the time to shrill at the slightest evocation of his brother's friend. But the problem came from there, when Sirius was talking about James, the way he had to talk about him was more about a brother than a friend. And that made him sick.
Unexpectedly, Sirius grabbed the handle of Regulus's shirt and dragged it between the moving bodies until he arrived in front of a shop dedicated to magical sports items.
In the front was a broom of a new generation, if Regulus believed the over-excited screams of the children around him and his brother. This one whispered the name of the collection, and Regulus pretended to have heard.
The young boy wanted to leave as soon as possible. If no one had noticed them at first, some children began to look at them strangely. This was one of the reasons why Regulus hated wearing the outfits his parents had chosen for him. They were too conspicuous, and he knew that his parents wanted them to be, but he could not bear to be stared at such a sight. He would have preferred to blend into the mass, like the children of his age, without knowing that people would point the finger at him and wonder who this weird boy was in black shirt and suit.
Of course, Sirius liked to be the focus of attention. He had been accustomed to being so from an early age, because of his heir status, while Regulus was doomed to wait behind the scenes. But even in those moments when they were both unscrewd, the youngest managed to discern the different between the looks thrown at Sirius and those he received.
Sirius drew the eyes by the confidence he gave, he was in his place, he knew it, and so did the others. He shone, literally, and the motleys that flew in the dark were inexorably attracted by the splendour he emitted.
Regulus, on the other hand, didn't give off any of that. He was the shadow of his brother, and the others knew it too. He didn’t shine like his brother, he did not know how to do, nor how to be what these other children expected him to be. The eyes he received were therefore imbued with an unhealthy curiosity and a judgment that Regulus would have dispense without.
People were already getting an idea of who he was. Worse, Regulus knew they were wondering if he was like his brother. They would soon know the answer, and would be disappointed to learn that no one could be like his brother. So brilliant. So friendly. So admirable. And they wouldn't be the first to be disappointed with him. The only comfort that Regulus was able to find was the fact that these people would probably not go so far as to tell him in the face. At least that was what he had hoped for.
Regulus tried to focus on what his brother showed him. They had entered the store and Sirius pointed the finger at the various products he would need to join the team.
Little by little, while the eldest was already lite of what he had to buy, the youngest dragged into the shop, alone, until he reached the rays that featured the different Quidditch players of recent years. On some walls were displayed photos of matches and Regulus was captivated by the height where some players went. Remembering his last confrontation with his mother came back to him, and he closed his eyes with up to 10 before reopening them, in order to calm the beating of his heart.
-You've seen, it's super cool, isn't it?
Regulus jumped when he heard his brother speak right behind him. He hated being surprised in this way and feeling the presence of someone behind him at the last moment. Sirius laughed slightly at his brother's reaction before letting him answer.
-If you like it, that's the only thing that matters.
-I think you might like it too.
Regulus shrugged his shoulders. He had never had the opportunity to fly, and so he did not know what sensations had make euphoric his brother at this point. But he saw how Sirius was talking about this sport, and he seemed really want to share this with him. So Regulus might think about it, try it. He might try to override his fear of a vacuum and make his brother proud. Sharing with him something other than the fear of beatings.
-Maybe, but I'll have to be taught to fly.
The smile that his brother offered him warmed his heart. He would have liked Sirius to always smile in this way.
-I'll teach you, then you'll have first-year classes.
Regulus' pulse increased to learn to fly around others. His parents supported the fact that the Blacks must be blameless. In this situation, however, it would not be.
-You were good at it ?
Why was he asking this question? Of course it was. Regulus wasn't even angry at his brother for that, but it was much more thought that it was the heir who was capable of this kind of thing. Always be perfect. Another reason why Regulus was fit for his brother to be the eldest and not him.
-A bit yeah, I quickly learned, but James was helping me quite well.
-Hmm...
Obviously.
-I would ask him to teach you, he is a much better teacher than I am.
-Pardon ?
French had come out naturally. This happened to him when he was surprised. Sirius didn’t notice neither the change of language nor the tone on which he had spoken. Regulus was able to learn to fly, but he wanted to do it with his brother, which was why he had agreed. He did not want to learn with anyone else, and especially by James. Even though Sirius saw him as his best friend.
-Qu’est-ce qu’il y a ?
Not disturbed, Sirius went into French without realizing it, and Regulus could not answer him. Obviously his brother did not so much importance the idea of spending time with him at the sight of the ease with which he had rejected the chore on to James.
Nevertheless, he did not want to pretend to be an emotive in the eyes of his brother, so he contented himself with ignoring Sirius, aware that his brother would move on easily.
That is what happened. Sirius's attention was to a for sale, and he walked away to look at it more closely, leaving Regulus alone. He didn’t hold him. He was caught in the urge that his brother should remain with him, that he should realize his error, and apologise for it by taking him in his arms-Regulus realized that he could no longer remember the last time they had caught themselves in brass and the envy that Sirius would move as far away from him.
He wanted to be alone and ignored. He had enough of hope.
- Hey. Regulus, wouldn't you want to go get your wand?
He turned to his brother. He was carrying some products which he had shown him earlier, and Regulus realized that the time had passed without him noticing. An absence that he had become accustomed to enduring at certain times.
He shrugged his shoulders and followed his brother to go out. Sirius greeted some people from time to time, but had the presence of mind not to stop at each of them to discuss. Regulus would then be gone, and he wouldn’t care if Kreattur found himself annoying not to know which of the boys he was supposed to follow. The youngest was no longer patient in seeing how incredible and loved Sirius was for all of these people. He already knew that.
Outside, Regulus felt able to breathe. His pulse resumed a normal rhythm after all this agitation. And as he thought he was able to calm his annoyance, Sirius opened his mouth.
-You'll see, I'm sure everyone will love you. People didn’t like me before either.
Regulus loved his brother. He had always been there for him, when he could. He was his best friend, and knew everything about him. So why didn't he understand that, both of them, orbited in different directions? They were not the same. Sirius did not see that Regulus would never be the person people would find interesting in a room.
He did not have this luminous aura and that mischievous and cheerful smile that would make others want to know him. Sirius had a life to tell. Regulus's was not even traced.
And that's how things worked.
Regulus knew that.
Sirius preferred to ignore it.
-It's you who attracts people. You know I can't.
-Come on. You're underestimating yourself. You're good as you are, you don't have to shine to make yourself loved. If they do not see it, that’s their problem. I, anyway, I see it.
Regulus smiled without looking at his brother. The anointing and anger had disappeared. His brother would not understand if he told him that being loved by everyone was not interested him, as long as he saw it like that. Like someone who was not just the son of. The brother of. In the eyes of Sirius, he was Regulus, his little brother, the one he was protecting. And that was something that couldn't change.
They quickly arrived at the Olivander’s shop. Evan had told him that it was held by a very old, somewhat, eccentric sorcerer who spoke of the wands as if they were real people. Regulus was impatient to meet him, finally an interesting person.
The first thing that passed to his mind when he pushed the door of the shop was "Is it really maintained?" " The answer was no. Spider webs at every corner of the room, and dust flew away as soon as the two Black brothers laid a foot on the ground. The store appeared empty, and Regulus had the impression that he was not invited to stay. He pressed the little bell.
This time, he did not jump when the seller appeared in a sliding noise. The old man almost toppled when the sliding staircase arrived at the end of the row, but he caught up as if he were accustomed to this kind of situation. The sorcerer turned to him, and his short grey buckles ricocheted on his pale cheeks. His gaze was surprised as soon as he recognized his clients, and his mouth widened to form a thrilled smile. Instinctively Regulus returned him but could not help but retreat when the man approached him.
-Regulus Arcturus Black.
It was not a question, but Regulus felt compelled to add:
-Yes.
-I still remember the wands I sold to your parents.
Regulus showed nothing of it, but he found it hard to believe. No one was able to remember that. His parents had to be in Hogwarts more than twenty years ago.
-Walburga Black, a very talented witch. cedar wood, unicorn horse heart. 23.4 centimetres. Very flexible. Far from looking like his personality this last information, am I wrong? The baguette had chosen her, but she had not. Unfortunately, witches rarely have a choice in this decision.
Without leaving Ollivander with his eyes, Regulus felt Sirius tendered to the evocation of their mother. They both wanted to enjoy a day away from home without having to prostrate themselves to the supervision of their parents. Regulus had come to the idea that they would not escape this kind of discussion. For the others, those who were not Blacks, it must be normal to be the subject of their discussions. They were one of Britain's most influential families, and his parents had told him that it was normal for them to be talked about.
The seller glanced at the brothers's annihilate before proceeding.
-Orion Black, a very famous and in demand sorcerer in his field. Askwood, dragon ventricle heart, 30.5 centimetres. Rigid. Perfect for a sorcerer as ambitious as he was, at least that was what his baton thought.
Regulus grimaced at the moment when Ollivander spoke of his father. He knew little about his father's work, but it had been years since he had used the ambitious word to describe it. The appropriate description would have been more “instigating”. Regulus knew his father sick of an incurable disease due to consanguinity which rhythmed the crosses between members of the same family with the 28 Sacred family. Toujours Purs. Despite the risks, this sentence remained the family motto.
Since then, little Regulus had learned to be wary of his father. No one could predict how he was going to react. The boy avoided him with the utmost care, which had never been complicated. Orion spent her days in his office, drinking to forget the pain that was gnawing at him step by step, or managing the finances of the whole family, a role that would one day return to Sirius. Regulus, for his part, would be in his room, or in the library, from the floors well above where his office was, so that he could flee if he ever heard him go up. Or at least get ready. Getting ready to endure.
Endure what?
Unfortunately, he did not have the luxury of knowing it in advance.
-And last year it was your brother's turn. It took a long time to be selected. Sacred sorcerer, too, isn't it?
Sirius approached Regulus and whispered in his ear.
-It took so long that there was the tail behind me.
-The tail was people who wanted to buy a stick, or a tail of people who came to see the heir Black get his stick? replied Regulus with a hint of sarcasm.
Sirius stepped back with a smile, shrugging his shoulders. Regulus turned his attention to Ollivander, who had you to let the two brothers finish their discussion, and the smile he offered made the young boy uncomfortable.
-But today we are here for you, Mr. Black.
Regulus finally dared to advance towards the sorcerer. They remained silent for a few moments, enough to make him uncomfortable, then, without warning, Ollivander made a half turn to fetch a stick, as if the light had been lit in his head and an idea had suddenly arisen.
The young boy lost him by sight, but he heard him take a dozen steps, probably to the end of the row and waited until the old man returned. The latter came out of his box a brown and straight stick, elegant and refined. A perfect wand for a Black.
-Acacia wood and dragon ventricle. 25 centimeters. Quite flexible. Take it and shake it a bit.
Regulus had barely time to hold the wand in his hands than a light breeze blew in his ears and Ollivander took the object back to him by mobbing. He returned to his rows and presented him with a second.
-Holux wood, corn of unicorn. 21.5 centimeters. Very rigid. Here.
This time he only touched it and already a deaf rumble came from the baguette. The seller took it off the boy's hands with haste. The minutes passed and each test looked like the previous one. A mound of boxes had formed from the moment Ollivander had ceased to put them away, and failed to collapse at any moment.
Sirius had sat on a chair at the end of the eighth baguette, had begun to come out of Quidditch's affairs to look at the end of the fifteenth, and had begun to hum since the twentieth. Then Regulus stopped counting.
Each new baguette placed on the pile, already too imposing for his own consciousness, twisted his belly a little more. Regulus had the impression that an anvil was punching on him, and the hope of finding the right stick was dwindling. It terrified him.
Regulus no longer even looked for the baguette that would honor his family and the name he bore, he just wanted to find one. And while the seller handed him the one that seemed to him to be the thousandth, fear intensified. The less time he thought he came out of the shop with one of these rectangular boxes. Perhaps one, empty, a kind of gift of compensation from the old man, to whom he was probably wasting his time.
When the seller once again tore a handwash him, Regulus heard Sirius sigh. His panic is accentuated. He began to have cold sweats, and the heat that had taken place in the shop made him sweat more. His shirt stuck his skin and the pressure his collar exerted on his neck gave him the impression of suffocating. And at the moment when yet another baguette was torn from his hands, which had become red, he knew that he would disappoint his mother.
Regulus did not yet know what he would receive as a correction for failing to pass the family's duty to always attain perfection, but he preferred not to think about it. Her mother had been very clear last time, she would not allow any deviation or disobedience, either from her will or not. If Regulus could, he would endure the use of a baguette that didn't suit him, if it could please Walburga Black.
But beyond the permanent threat that his mother’s existence represented, there was worse. Worse than suffering. Worse than terror.
If he didn't come back with a wand, he would never go to Hogwarts. He would stay in this mansion forever. Because his parents would not let him try to find one again, in any case, Regulus would fail again. The Blacks were not entitled to a second chance. He would wander the corridors of this cold, dark and bleak house, surrounded by the paintings of his ancestors who would spit their venom at his approach. Undoubtedly his face would be burned from the tapestry, considered a Cracmol, a name quickly forgotten, a family secret trapped between these walls, and whose only escape would be on the roof of this mansion. And one day, his ledge.
And he would lose his brother. His best friend. He almost almost went crazy without him this year. Sirius had almost forgotten him. One more year and Regulus would become a mere misty memory. He would lose it. And never would Regulus stand without his brother. The rim would call him, he knew it. He had no courage to confront his demons, to fight for what he was. He was not strong enough. He would be engulfed by the darkness represented by his surname.
He would jump.
Despite his fear of a vacuum.
Despite the promise he had made to his brother.
For Regulus knew that Sirius would never hold it.
-I didn't think I had to say that one day, but I confess not to know how to get out of this situation. You have a soul that is special enough that no baguette has enough confidence in it to support you.
So that was how everything ended? Was he still the problem? From the corner of his eyes, he saw Sirius rising from his chair, an expression as incredulous as his face.
-What do you mean?
Ollivander did not bother to answer his client. Regulus was not even sure that he had heard it.
-We've already found the right wood, but since then I've been blocking.
Regulus began to worry, shouldn’t he just give up?
-The heart is not going, it is the heart that sins. But I tried everything.
He approached the seller when he straightened, his eyes bright.
-Ah less than...
Ollivander returned to his shelves, continuing to mutter, until Regulus lost sight of him. He turned to his brother in search of answers. Sirius simply shrugged his shoulders, and he gave up on hearing the seller return. He held in his hands a box similar to all those stacked on the counter. Only she gave off something which both enjoined Regulus to open it on the spot and hold her container in her hands, and the other to put her under seal and hide her from everyone's sight.
Ollivander came out the baton and handed it to him.
-Cypress wood, Thestral’s horsehair heart. Flexible. 17.8 cm. Try it. I think we're holding something.
Regulus still held out his hand to grab the stick. This time he had time to feel it between his fingers. The wood was completely black and smooth. He felt his palms warm up in contact with the object.
-Well, here we are.
Regulus looked up at the wand, surprised. After all this time spent in the store, they had finally found the right one. He had difficulty believing it. All his dark thoughts then belonged only to the past, and the boy was reassured.
-Is it all right? Is it really over? By Merlin, it was long ! exclaimed Sirius.
Sirius paid and began to pick up the bundles he had left behind. Regulus was patient and continued to watch Ollivander while he was stowing. The boxes stole from one to one in the direction of their location and the young sorcerer approached the seller.
- Do you know why did it take so long?
Ollivander turned to him, and a fine smile smiled illuminated his face.
-This happens sometimes. Wands are mysterious beings. Some, most of them, take witches with quiet, soothed souls. There are very few wands for the most tormented. Your soul is complex, Mr. Black. That's why it's both obvious that a wand in the heart of Sombral's horsehair has chosen you, and which is just as amazing.
Regulus opened his mouth to answer, but Sirius called him out, and he was forced to follow him. Going out to the open after all this time made him a mad thing. The clock had made good progress and there were more families of sorcerers. They were all rushing here and there, some were wandering aimlessly. Regulus looked down at the box that contained his stick.
-It's funny, I don't know anyone who has a stick in the heart of Thestral.
-Really?
-Yeah.
-Why?
-No idea.
Regulus would have liked to speak more about it, but as he opened his mouth, Sirius looked up, and they lit up. A smile formed on his lips, and he began to walk faster, forcing Regulus to follow his increasingly frenetic pace. Too small, the latter could not see what thus excited his brother. The world around them prevented him from seeing so far. But he felt that things were going to take a turn that he would not like.
-James !
And his heart broke.