On Begged and Borrowed Time

February 13th, 1977

Regulus likes to pretend that he’s different from other people. Fewer reactions, less emotional, and more focused. When Regulus thinks of himself he thinks of someone who manages to think with their mind, not their heart. Emotions have never been his strong suit, so by pushing them down, he’s led himself and others to believe that he simply doesn’t care about them. He’s Regulus Arcturus Black, heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. He’s cold, quiet, and calculated. He’s dignified. Aside from what's happened this year, nothing can touch him, and rarely does anything, or anyone, try to. Who he is lies within his family’s motto: Toujours Pur. 

The truth of it all though, is that none of that is accurate. Regulus might be icy to the touch, but the fact of the matter is as long as you push, all those walls and all that stoicism melts down until Regulus is left in a puddle of overwhelming grief and fear that he’s lived with his entire life. No amount of pushing it down will ever make it go away. Not fully, at least.

Take now for example, he hasn’t quite melted away yet, but he can feel the heat and he knows he’s dangerously close to doing so. There couldn’t be a worse time for this to happen.

“Earth to Regulus. Are you in there?”

Regulus snaps his head up, getting pulled out of his thoughts so harshly that it feels like whiplash. He blinks hard, focusing his gaze on Barty and Evan instead of the battle going on in his head. Barty grins at him. “There you are. I was saying, are you ready for tonight?”

Regulus cracks his knuckles absentmindedly, his fingers catching on the rings he’s wearing. He’s still angry at himself for giving into Barty’s pleas for an invitation and reaching out to his mother on his behalf. He had hoped his mother would say no, but she didn’t. Evidently, Regulus vouching for him was enough to dismiss any fears around Barty’s father’s reputation. Clearing his throat, he raises his chin slightly. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose. You?”

“I’m a bit excited if I’m being honest,” Barty admits, chewing on his lip. “I know you’re probably already lecturing me in your head about the dangers of it all, but I don’t know—it’s a bit exciting, isn’t it? Something new. Something…interesting.”

Regulus is quiet, studying Barty. He feels a bit wistful, hearing him say that. He wishes that was how he felt going into this. Instead, he feels weighed down by the guilt of secrecy. The raid is tonight, only mere hours away, and he never did breathe a word of it to James. Or Sirius. Sirius, he thinks, is more expected for him to keep things from. Keeping this from James though, Regulus knows it’s wrong. He knows it’s going to come back to bite him. He’s just willing to face the future more than he is the present. What’s that saying about asking for forgiveness, not permission? He might not have been asking for permission to begin with, seeing as this wasn’t really up to him, but it feels relevant. It feels, well, true.

“It will be interesting,” Regulus agrees eventually. He means it, too. He’s rather curious to see what this will be like, assuming he’ll have to do it again in the future. He’s also interested to see how prepared the other Slytherin boys are to do something like this. Regulus doesn’t doubt that he’s one of the most skilled out of the group for a task like this. His training with Bellatrix last summer and his sessions with Moody and Dumbledore in combination with his personal studies have made him into a mean fighter. He’s quick and clean. Ruthless, when he wants to be. Or rather, when he needs to be. He thinks so at least. He's never had to put it into action in a real situation. It's always been behind closed doors.

“Cheer up, Reg,” Barty says, tilting his head. “Are you nervous? What’s going on with you? We already know the three of us will be safe, Pandora said.”

Pandora did tell them that. It wasn’t easy to get out of her, and Regulus practically threatened her into doing so, but she ended up assuring them that they’d be safe as long as things went the way she saw them. There’s no reason they shouldn’t.

“Nervous?” Regulus lets out a breathy laugh and shakes his head. “No, not exactly. Being consumed by guilt? Yes.”

“Guilt?” Evan questions, his eyebrows drawing together. “Why do you feel guilty already? Did Pandora tell you more than she told us?”

“No,” Regulus shakes his head again. “No, she didn’t.”

“Oh, bloody hell, don’t tell me your moral compass has grown even more. I swear, the more time you spend with Potter—oh. Oh, he’s upset about it, isn’t he? That’s why you’re being so,” Barty gestures at Regulus, “so…Regulus-y.”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “Regulus-y. Eloquent, Bartemius.”

Barty cracks a grin again. “No, really. Go on, what did he say? Doesn’t he understand that you have to do this?”

Regulus hesitates. Visibly. Barty raises his eyebrows and Evan just watches him, waiting. Regulus sighs. “He doesn’t know. I didn’t tell him.”

Barty’s eyebrows just about hit his hairline. “I’m surprised, somehow. Figured he gets all the nasty details from you, seeing as none of the rest of us do.”

“Some things are better left unsaid.”

“I guess so,” Evan nods, biting his lip. “He’ll never have to know then, will he? I mean, how would he, if you don’t tell him?”

“Do nothing secretly; for time sees and hears all things, and discloses all.”

“How the fuck do you just come up with shit like that?” Barty scoffs after a beat of silence. “Besides, that’s not even true. I’ve done plenty of things secretly and they’ve never been found out.”

“I didn’t say that, you dimwit,” Regulus rolls his eyes. “Sophocles did. And so did Dorcas. Anyway, hiding your involvement in a Death Eater raid from your boyfriend versus cheating on a Potions assignment isn’t exactly the same thing, Barty. Knowing my luck, James will find out and it’ll prove that I should have just told him.”

“So,” Evan says slowly, dutifully ignoring Regulus’ insult. “Seeing as you're convinced of that, why didn’t you just tell him?”

“I don’t know,” Regulus mutters. He twists the ring on his pointer finger. The one Alphard gave him. He meets Evan’s eyes. “I mean, I know why, but it’s a bit ridiculous. You two will say I’m ridiculous and I’m not really in the mood to hear that, so.”

“ You’re the dimwit,” Barty says, straight-faced. “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re our best friend for you to get it through your thick skull? I know I can be a lot sometimes, but Regulus, when it matters… When it matters, I won’t be. When it matters, I’m not.”

Regulus swallows the lump in his throat, dropping his eyes. “I just—I have shit luck, alright? And James—James has been my one good thing. My one stroke of luck out of all of this. I mean, I know I have you and Evan and Dorcas and Pandora. Even Sirius. But James is…he’s different. It’s different.”

“Obviously,” Barty nods, motioning for him to continue.

“I suppose I just feel like—” Regulus’ voice cracks and he shuts his eyes like that'll make it easier to admit. “It feels like that luck has to run out too, you know? I mean, James knows that these are things I have to do, but who’s to say he can handle it? Handle me being—being—”

“Being what Regulus? What are you so afraid of being?” Evan asks, his voice soft. 

“I’m going to be a Death Eater, Barty. A murderer,” Regulus whispers, his wide eyes pouring into Barty’s. He’s never really said that out loud to any of his friends. Admitting it like this makes it feel more real, like he’s setting it in stone. “I know I am. Pandora hasn’t told me and it’s not like I’ve killed anyone yet, but with what I’ve been tasked with, how could I not? And the raid tonight—I’m going to do terrible things to innocent people. How will he be able to—” Regulus stutters on the word, feeling it catch in his chest. He shakes his head and clears his throat. “How will he love me through that, when I haven’t even done it yet and I can’t—I don’t—”

“Regulus,” Evan interrupts, firmly. “Listen to me. Really listen to me right now. The things you do to save the bloody Wizarding World, as terrible as they may end up being, won’t change who you are and how the people who care about you feel about you. Not when they understand why you’ve done it. You might be a Death Eater, yes, but you won’t actually be one. Not in the way others are. You have no loyalty to the cause.”

“I’ll still wear the brand,” Regulus murmurs, rubbing at his forearm. “I’ll still commit the crimes. How much spying can outweigh that?”

“I don’t know,” Evan responds, honestly. “But if anyone can manage it, it will be you, Regulus. I know you know that. I hate that you have to do this, but I don’t know who else could do it. Out of all of us, at least. I wouldn’t be able to. I would’ve cracked under the pressure weeks ago.”

“I am cracking,” Regulus admits, quietly. “I’m just good at hiding it, in every way of the word. Glamours, lies, secrecy. It’s all hidden.”

“Glamours?” Barty questions, twisting his mouth. “What do you have to hide that could be fixed with those?”

“Sleep doesn’t exactly come easily these days,” Regulus laughs, humourlessly. “I never thought I'd be borrowing Dorcas' Witch Weekly issues, but they've become rather useful. Their tips on glamours offer far more information on how to properly cover dark circles than I was ever aware of.”

Barty and Evan are quiet, staring at Regulus. Studying him. Regulus flinches under their gaze, looking away.

“We’ll always be here, Regulus,” Evan murmurs eventually. “You’ll always have us, no matter what. You know that. There’s nothing you could do to change that.”

Regulus raises his eyes, fearful of the expression he’ll see on Evan’s face. All he sees is the truth. 

“I’m sorry,” Regulus says, thickly. “You both have your own life to deal with but I’m always tying you up into my shit one. I mean, I barely even ask you how you’re doing and you still say things like that to me.”

“There’s not much going on, Reg, don’t worry about it,” Barty laughs. “We do my schoolwork—most of the time at least, hang out with each other, fuck around with the other Slytherins, and I plot ways to disappoint my father. The same old, really.”

"He's right," Evan agrees. He glances at the time, frowning. "Listen, I told Flint I'd show him a trick for a proper disillusionment charm, so I have to go meet him. I'll see you two in the Great Hall?"

"Yeah," Regulus nods. "See you.

Once Evan is gone, Barty and Regulus sit there in the dorm, quiet. He says it to himself all of the time, but it's crazy how has changed for all of them. Just last year, their lives were completely different. Unrecognizable. Sometimes, even with all the good he's gained from this new life—getting James for himself and getting his brother back—he misses how it used to be. The simplicity of it all is hard to not feel wistful for. Regulus used to have a solid understanding of his life and what lay ahead of him. Now, he doesn't even know if he'll make it out of this alive. He might not have any way, but he never considered it. Not back then.

“You and Evan,” Regulus murmurs. “How are you two?”

“Good,” Barty nods. “Really good, I’d say. Still can’t believe it, honestly. It kind of goes along with the plotting—my dad would be absolutely miffed.”

“That’s not why you’re doing it, is it?” Regulus asks, carefully. “I mean, I’m all for messing with your father, but…”

“No,” Barty shakes his head firmly. “Definitely not. It’s just kind of a win-win situation, although I doubt he’ll ever know. My dad might get miffed if he knew, but Evan’s would actually kill him, so no, not messing with that beast. Plus, I just—care about Evan. Even if I thought my dad would love him, I’d still be doing it, you know?”

Regulus nods. He gets it. Even with everything that’s happened, he’s not exactly keen on disappointing his parents, but there’s a part of him that feels a little bit…excited by the thought of how enraged they’d be, knowing about him and James. He can only imagine Sirius has felt the same about Remus. It’s not the defining factor of his feelings, by any means, but like Barty said, it’s a bit of a win-win situation. It’s rare to come by those these days.

“Anyway,” Barty says, clapping a hand on Regulus’ shoulder. “Let’s go up for lunch. I’m sure we’ll need the fuel for tonight.”

“Right,” Regulus mutters. 

Tonight. With each passing second, it gets closer. It’s a small group of them going. Regulus, Evan, Barty, Parkinson, Mulciber, Snape, Flint, and Avery. It hasn’t escaped Regulus’ notice that Nott wasn’t invited. He’ll need to do some digging to figure out the reasoning behind that.

Anyway, they’ve been given very few details. Parkinson is supposed to relay more right before they leave. It’s making Regulus anxious, being kept in the dark like this. Not knowing means his mind cooks up the most awful situations he can think of. The only upside to that, Regulus thinks, is that the reality of it can’t be nearly as bad.

—

Sirius is sitting on one of the sofas in the common room, watching Remus and Peter play chess. He glances over to where James is off in the corner talking to Marlene. Sirius lets out a sigh, blowing the air up to move a piece of hair out of his eyes. Looking back at the two boys who are playing chess, he squints slightly, studying Pete. Things haven’t been the same between him and Peter since the last full moon and Sirius’...outburst. To be honest, Sirius had forgotten about it after a few days, until James reminded him what he said to him when Sirius asked why Peter was acting so strange toward him.

The right thing to do, both Remus and James have told him, is to apologize. Take responsibility for getting so upset and saying something so cruel. Sirius didn’t need them to spell it out for him to know that’s what he should do. The issue here is not Sirius’ complete lack of awareness, it’s his complete refusal to do so.

He’s stubborn, he knows that. It’s a Black family trait he hasn’t been able to shake. Regulus is the same way, as are Bellatrix, Narcissa, and his parents.With the people he loves, he’s better at it. With Regulus, he can take the defeat. With James, he’s never really needed to. With Remus…well, he’s fucked up with Remus majorly enough to not take any issue very far with him.

So, considering that Peter is one of the Marauders and by extension, one of Sirius’ best friends, you’d think it’d be the same. It might not be easy, but he’d be able to do it. Step up, be mature.

He does want to, honestly. It’s that he can’t . Any time an opportunity has presented itself, the apology on his tongue, and Peter right in front of him, Sirius just shuts down. He doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s because he isn’t very sorry about it at all. Maybe he overreacted, but he doesn’t think that anything he said was untrue. It was cowardly of Peter to run.

Sirius and James have had this conversation a few times now. If Peter had stayed, he would have seen Regulus and that would’ve taken a whole lot of explaining, James pointed out. Not only that, they’d have to deal with how pissed off Regulus would have been about the whole thing. So, maybe Pete wasn’t there for a reason.

It’s just that, well, the fear that Sirius felt on the full moon was so real. It felt life-threatening. Not only was there another wolf, a potential threat to Moony, James, and himself, but his little brother’s life was on the line. Explaining to Pete would have been difficult, but it would have been possible. Regulus would have calmed down eventually, probably. At least Sirius wouldn’t be left wondering if, in the face of a battle or duel, Pete would leave them behind without hesitation.

“Wotcher, Sirius,” James nods, a smile on his face. He sits next to Sirius on the couch and bumps his shoulder against his. “How are you?”

“Fine,” Sirius murmurs, his gaze still on Pete. He blinks harshly before turning to look at James. He can’t help but smile when he sees James’ grin. “What about you?

“Fine, fine,” James says, waving a hand. “Been thinking, it’s been a while since we’ve done a prank, or had a night out in Hogsmeade, or anything even remotely fun. What do you say we make up for that this weekend? Maybe even tonight?”

Sirius really grins then. Quietly, he responds, “I’d say, I like how you think, Prongs. I’m up for tonight. Maybe we can invite Reggie? I doubt he’d be open to a prank, but he might sneak out for the right reason.”

Shaking his head, James lowers his voice as well. “He’s busy tonight. Has to spend time with the others in his house. Plus, I think explaining why he was with us out in public would be even more difficult than getting caught in the castle together. And, there’s Pete…”

Sirius wrinkles his nose. Ah, right. Peter doesn’t know that Regulus isn’t actually…whatever it is people think he is. That would be too much explaining. Not to mention, Regulus would be completely unwilling.

“Where are you wanting to go? Three Broomsticks?”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured. The only other option is Hog’s Head, so…” James trails off.

“Might be a smarter choice,” Sirius thinks out loud. “Less of a crowd, less of a chance we’ll get snitched on. It’s a little dodgy, but whatever. We can do dodgy.”

“We can definitely do dodgy,” James agrees, his eyes gleaming. “I’m sure the boys’ll say yes. We can ask once their game is over.”

“Sounds good,” Sirius nods, flashing a double thumbs-up at him. He shifts to look at Remus and Peter, still going at it in chess on the floor. His eyes linger on Remus, his chest feeling warm, before looking at Pete again. Wormtail doesn’t look up at him and Sirius is glad for it. Something about his watchful eyes have been making him nervous these days.

—

Regulus is self-deprecating and utterly miserable. He can’t for the life of him understand why his friends, like Barty, are willing to risk their futures for him. That being said, he’d die for his friends without question. That also being said, there’s not a person on the planet that he finds anywhere near as annoying as he does Barty right now.

“Would you shut up?” Regulus hisses.

“It’s actually quite appropriate when you listen to the lyrics,” Evan mutters, looking between the two of them.

Barty is lying on his bed in the dorm, absolutely screaming some Muggle song. Regulus is pretty sure he’s heard it before, but Barty’s performance is butchering it beyond belief. The poor people who created the song likely had no idea their song could sound so awful.

“When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to ME. Speaking words of wisdom, let it BE.”

“Where did he even hear it?” Regulus groans, throwing himself back against his pillows. “Why now?”

“And in my hour of darkness, she is standing right in front of me. Speaking words of wisdom, LET IT BE!”

“Barty,” Regulus says through gritted teeth, his eyes clenched shut. “My ears are  beginning to bleed. I have enough danger of facing injury tonight, I don’t need to deal with this as well.”

“Oh, you’re such a drag, Reg,” Barty rolls his eyes, sitting up. His hair is an absolute mess and he’s practically vibrating with energy.

“No, I just prefer peace,” Regulus shoots back, eyes narrowed. “Which you so rarely allow.”

“Give him a break,” Evan sighs, watching Barty carefully. “He’s rather…excited.”

“Yes, I know, but that’s no excuse for whatever that was,” Regulus grumbles. He glances at Evan. “What about you? Are you excited for tonight?”

“Excited?” Evan huffs out a laugh. “No, I’m not. I’ve never been one for dueling or any of that so…I don’t know. I feel a little unprepared, I suppose.”

“You’ll be fine,” Regulus says, firmly. “Stay close to me.”

“Wish you’d start training us,” Barty comments, his tone serious. “My father will never allow me to be trained in things like that. Don’t know where else I’ll learn.”

Regulus twists his mouth, thinking of how James said the same things months ago. He never did follow up on that. He probably should. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“I imagine my training will begin this summer,” Evan murmurs. “Since I’ll be sixteen then—it’s customary. I’m surprised your family started so early with you and Bellatrix, Reg.”

“You know my parents,” Regulus shrugs. “Never do like to be on the same level as others.”

“Do you figure…” Evan trails off, and Regulus waits for him to finish. “Do you figure they’ll be the same way with all of this? I mean, realistically, when will you become a Death Eater?”

“Well, he has to finish school,” Barty interjects. When Regulus doesn’t agree, his face contorts, visibly confused. “Don’t you?”

“We’ll see,” Regulus mutters. “It’s hard to say, honestly, because I haven’t been around for so long. I have no clue what their plans are anymore.”

“But if you had to guess?” Evan questions. “What do you think?”

“I think my parents will do anything possible to get ahead,” Regulus admits. “Whatever that means for me and all of this.”

“Parkinson is set to be the youngest Death Eater,” Barty says, quietly. “Eighteen years old. He told us the other day. It seems the Dark Lord is rather fond of him. Or maybe his family. Your parents will have to find a way around that.”

“I’m sure they’ll manage,” Regulus allows. “They always do.”

About half an hour later, Regulus, Barty, and Evan file out of their dorm and into Parkinson’s. Settling in, Regulus glances around, taking inventory of everyone in attendance. Just as he thought, it’s him, Evan, Barty, Mulciber, Flint, Avery, and Snape. And, of course, Parkinson.

Parkinson claps his hands together, a conspiratorial grin spreading across his face. “How are we feeling?”

Most of the boys hoot and chatter, but Regulus stays quiet. As do Evan and Snape, he notices. 

“Alright,” Parkinson continues, his face growing serious. “Let’s talk business. We leave tonight, around one o’clock. We’ll exit the castle as if we’re going to the lake. There, we’ll find Portkeys. They’ll take us where we’re going. We need to get through the castle without being noticed, so I hope all of you can cast a competent disillusionment spell.”

“Where are we going, exactly?” Avery asks. “And what are we doing?”

“I’ll get there, mate,” Parkinson dismisses. “We’re heading toward Cardiff tonight. We’ll have some proper Death Eaters there to meet us—direct us, cast the spell when we’re done, all of that. We have one main focus: a Muggle and a half-blood. Married. Supposedly, the husband used to cause a lot of trouble, wanting to put restrictions and tracking on a number of dark creatures. This is the Dark Lord’s way of proving some…loyalty of sorts to the dark creatures he’s recruited.”

“So just two people between the eight of us?” Flint questions, disappointed. “What else are we supposed to do?”

“It’s not just the two of them living in the village. There are others, mostly, if not all, Muggles. Attack them. Set fire to their homes. Prove yourself. That’s what we’re all there to do.”

Quiet mumbling breaks out amongst the boys. Regulus stays quiet, his mind racing. 

Prove yourself. 

Prove yourself, Regulus. 

Prove yourself. 

Those two words, then three, ring out. Over and over again they play in his mind, each one sounding more and more like his mother.

—

“I’ve heard that vampires hang out at the Hog’s Head,” Peter announces, marching dutifully down the tunnel behind James.

James huffs a laugh, looking at Pete over his shoulder. “Wormy, who told you that?”

“Just someone is chess club,” Peter says, his round face flushing.

“Maybe not the most accurate source,” Remus responds, his lips twitching.

“They’re not all…” Peters begins. “I mean, some of them know what they’re talking about.”

“Who’s in the chess club anyway?” Sirius questions. James glances back at him, walking beside Remus. 

Peter clams up immediately. He’s been doing that since the full moon. Sirius said he knows he needs to apologize, but he hasn’t done it yet. James isn’t pushing it yet. He thought the Hog’s Head would be good for them.

“C’mon, Pete,” James urges. “Who is in chess club anyway? We don’t even know who it is you’re spending all your time with these days.”

“No one you three know,” Peter tells him, eyes on his feet as he walks. “It’s a big mix of people. Lots of people from other houses.”

“Plenty of Ravenclaws, I’d assume,” Remus nods. “Makes sense.”

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Sirius breathes out. “We’re almost there.”

Just ahead is the door into Honeydukes cellar. Remus walks ahead of the three of them, pulling a pin out of his pocket and unlocking it. He gestures for them to follow, smiling. “Time for a night out on the town.”

By the time they reach The Hog’s Head, it’s decently late into the night. The barman squinted at them suspiciously when they ordered, but served them nonetheless. Sirius was right. It’s a bit dodgy in here, but nothing awful. There are quite a few shady, cloaked figures lurking in the dark and dusty corners of the bar, but nothing that feels like a threat. Not from what James can tell at least.

They’re a couple of drinks in at this point, well and relaxed. Everyone’s laughing easily and even Peter and Sirius seem to be getting friendlier. This is exactly what James had wanted. Something to make them all feel like teenagers again. Some plain and easy fun.

“There are definitely vampires in here,” Remus leans in, speaking quietly. He’s grinning lopsidedly, his eyes a little bit foggy.

James huffs out a laugh, stirring the ice around in his fire whiskey. “Yeah, mate? Did they tell you that?”

“No,” Remus shakes his head, serious now. “I can smell them.”

“I always forget you can do shit like that,” James laughs again, casting a look around the room they’re sitting in, trying to see if he can spot them.

“Don’t tell Pete,” Remus says, glancing at Wormtail from across the table. “No need to get him all jumpy.”

“I won’t mention it,” James assures him, he takes a sip of his drink before speaking again. “Are there any other interesting characters in here? Anything to report on?”

“I’m pretty sure that group over there are Death Eaters,” Remus tells him quietly. He gestures to them with his chin. “I can smell the dark magic all over them. Plus, I think I heard them talking about Muggleborns so…”

“What?” James questions, his eyes widening. “What are they saying?”

“Give me a second. I have to focus to really hear them.”

James watches as Remus steels his face, clearly honing in on whatever it is that allows him his superhuman werewolf skills of smell and hearing. It’s quite cool, really, the way he can do that kind of thing. James thinks that if more people were aware of the way lycanthropy heightens your skills, magically and otherwise, they might be more inclined to befriend werewolves. Maybe even work to find some sort of solution to it.

As he watches Remus, who’s clearly listening now, he sees it in real time—the moment Remus hears something awful. All at once, just seconds after Remus furrowed his brow, the color drains from his face.

“Remus?” James says, warily. “What’s wrong?”

“Something’s wrong with Moony?” Sirius asks, concerned. He leans over to get closer to them. “Remus, what’s going on?”

“We need to go,” Remus croaks. “We need to go right now.”

“Go?” Peter says, suddenly tuned into the conversation. He’s clearly confused. All of them are, except for Remus. “Go where?”

“I need to speak with Dumbledore,” Remus tells them all, already rising from the table. “Right now.”

And, well, when Remus says something like that, you don’t question it. You don’t doubt him. Moony’s always right. He always knows.

James doesn’t know what’s going on, but he knows it’s bad. For once, he hopes that Remus ends up being wrong. 

—

Regulus has the invisibility cloak folded up in his robes, an extension charm placed on his pockets. In the other, he has the watch and the knife James gave him. The ring Alphard gave him remains firmly on his index finger. He doesn’t need the majority of these things at the moment, but he’s hoping something he’s brought along with him will end up bringing him some good fortune in this shitshow of a situation. A good luck charm, if you will.

The invisibility cloak he might actually need, in the case that something goes very wrong. Somehow, he’s confident that it won’t, but you never know. James hasn’t taken it back from him yet—not since the full moon, so Regulus doesn’t think it’ll bring any harm to bring it with him. He’s not sure he wants the others to know he has one. They’re extremely rare and difficult to come by, so it would lead to a lot of questions that Regulus wouldn’t necessarily have the answers to.

The eight of them are close to the Portkeys now, having made their way safely through the castle and onto the school grounds. It’s freezing outside, and a bit wet, chilling Regulus right to the bone. He could cast a warming charm like the others have done, but he figures that with the task ahead, he deserves at least a little bit of punishment. He can brave the cold as payment for the price of the task ahead of him.

He’s fallen into step with Parkinson now, meaning they reach the Portkeys at the same time. They’re inconspicuous, as usual. A rusting silver spoon, an aging wellie, a simple wooden crate, and a fraying scarf. Regulus moves towards the rusting silver spoon, naturally. It seems fitting. A bit ironic, really. It’s funny to him. 

What’s not funny is that Parkinson moves with him. He’d prefer to be with Evan or Barty, but he supposes he could be worse off than him. He could get stuck with Mulciber or Snape. Yeah, actually, Parkinson is just fine. Regulus is content with this.

“Remember boys, two to a Portkey,” Parkinson reminds them. “Make sure you grab on tight. The six of you will go first. Regulus and I will wait until you’ve all left, just to make sure there are no issues on that end.”

The rest of them nod, splitting themselves into pairs silently. Avery and Flint are at the crate, Mulciber and Snape with the wellie, and Evan and Barty stand with the scarf in between them. On Parkinson’s count, the six of them grab the Portkeys and just like that, they’re gone.

Parkinson and Regulus are left alone and stare at each other for a minute, both quiet as the harsh wind rips through the air around them. Regulus instinctively arches a brow, inviting, and in a way, daring him to speak.

Parkinson shakes his head, laughing slightly. “You’re not too friendly, are you?”

“Not always, no,” Regulus replies, honestly. “Is that an issue?”

“Nah,” Parkinson says, quietly. He studies Regulus for a moment. “Feels right to give you a head’s up about something though.”

“Go on.” Regulus’ stomach churns as he waits for Parkinson to tell him whatever it is he knows. As usual, his mind runs rampant, cooking up scenarios that are close to impossible.

“You’re about to have a bit of a family reunion,” Parkinson tells him. He chews his lip a second and Regulus refrains from stiffening immediately. “Lucius Malfoy is going to be there tonight.”

Lucius. Narcissa’s husband. He’s a total prick, and not half good enough for Regulus’ cousin, but he’s usually one of the more harmless of the group. Although, he is the one who started Regulus’...punishment on the night last summer. Surprisingly, the Malfoys come with a certain level of mental stability and social decorum that most Blacks do not. With that in mind, Regulus figures that he’ll do his best to maintain appearances tonight. He should be grateful that it’s him, really. At least it’s not Bellatrix or his mother.

“And where exactly is ‘there’?” Regulus questions, seemingly unaffected. “Who are we looking for?”

“Near Cardiff, like I said,” Parkinson tells him, tilting his head at Regulus. “Some small village I’ve never heard of, so I doubt you will have. As for the couple, I don’t know them either. I think your brother might know the son though. Pretty sure he’s in Gryffindor.”

“The son?” Regulus says, sharply. “Who?”

“Don’t know his first name,” Parkinson admits with a shrug. “Maybe Reid, or something like that? The last name is Lupin.”

There are moments in your life where you’re able to pinpoint just how deep the shit you’re in is. This is one of those moments. Regulus’ stomach drops and he knows that even as well as he’s able to control his expression, he can’t stop the color from draining from his face. 

He should have connected the dots earlier. Wales. A man who was too involved in policies for tracking dark creatures. A sign of loyalty from the Dark Lord. The increased collaboration between the Death Eaters and Werewolves. It was there, right there in his face, just about screaming at him, and he missed it. How the fuck did he miss it?

Regulus has known for a while now that he should have just told James he was going to do this. Explaining later, when this comes out and Regulus has no more lies to hide behind, is going to be incredibly difficult. It’s suspicious of him. Untrustworthy. As he processes Parkinson’s words, he realizes that it’s more than that. Much, much more than that. It could prove to be catastrophic. If he had just told James, told him everything that he knew and everything that was going to happen, then one of them would have connected the dots. Sirius flashes through his mind, dread building steadily within him. If Regulus could just fucking get over himself, his pride, and his fear of weakness, he would have told Sirius and because Sirius is his big brother, he would have known. He would have helped Regulus and gotten a plan into place for this. But instead, Regulus stands here in the cold, moments from destruction, unsure of what to do. He never knows what to do.

He knows, Regulus knows , that he has to do things he doesn’t approve of, but he’s quite sure that he actually, physically cannot do this. Not just for James or Sirius, who love Remus like a brother, a lover, a friend, and so much more. No, it’s not just for them. It’s for Remus, who Regulus has begrudgingly come to enjoy and view as a friend, or ally, of sorts. It’s for himself, who’s more than willing to put himself in danger for the people he loves, even willing to die for them and the people they love. 

He’s not going to be able to do it. He can’t do it.

He rolls his shoulders back, raising his chin. He narrows his eyes at Parkinson. “Well then, are you ready? I’m sure they’re waiting at this point.”

Parkinson eyes him, something in his gaze that Regulus can’t quite read. “Yeah. Yeah, mate. Just—Regulus, be cautious tonight, okay? There are a lot of eyes on you.”

“There always are,” Regulus responds and Parkinson nods. It’s true. They all know it.

With that, Regulus and Parkinson lean forward, reaching for the spoon. Upon contact, Regulus feels the pull in his navel, taking him somewhere he’s not ready to go, but can’t avoid.

And really, at this point, what else can Regulus expect from his life?

—

James has never seen Remus move so quickly in his life. The four of them are running through the passageway, Remus leading them, even with his wonky hip. They’re all breathing hard, blood turned to panic in their veins. Breathing hard, James picks up his pace, gaining on Remus quickly. Sirius is on his heels and Pete takes up the back.

“Remus,” James pants. “Tell us what’s going on. What did you hear?”

Remus doesn’t look over his shoulder when he replies. “My parents. There’s a raid tonight, James, and they’re targeting my parents.”

“Your parents?” Sirius breathes out, bewildered. “But why?”

Remus shakes his head, still not glancing back at them, just focusing on running, running, running. “They’re proving their loyalty to the werewolves, from what it sounds like.”

Peter whimpers behind him and James’ heart drops. They all know the details of Remus’ attack. He told them all a few months after they confronted him about being a werewolf. Remus, just five years old and already collateral damage for his father’s intense bias against werewolves and his insistence upon further regulating them. Fenrir Greyback, who hasn’t been spotted in Great Britain in over fifteen years, responsible for it all. They all know what this means. 

Greyback has returned, and worst of all, he hasn’t forgotten about Remus.

James and Sirius share a look, fear and desperation reflected in each other’s eyes like looking in a mirror. They keep running. Running, running, running.

Something James has learned is that when it matters most, he’s barely been able to run fast enough.

—

When Regulus lands, or rather stumbles, onto the ground outside of Cardiff, it’s not at all what he’s expecting. There’s no screaming. No people running for their lives or the undeniable sound of battle. No, there’s nothing. Just quiet.

It’s a small neighborhood, made up of modest Victorian-style houses. Crickets chirp and the wind blows. The shutters on the houses are drawn—signaling that everyone is in for the night. Regulus watches the streetlights flicker eerily, although they look a bit old, so he assumes that’s a need for maintenance rather than magical interference. 

Taking hold of his wand, Regulus looks at Parkinson, and then the surrounding area. It’s empty.

“What is this?” Regulus lowers his voice. “Where are the others?”

“Probably that way,” Parkinson gestures to a small park. “We’re supposed to meet there. The Portkey was a bit off.”

Quickly, the two of them make their way to the park, where the others are waiting for them. Not just his housemates, but a hooded figure as well. As they get closer, Regulus sees the person pull his cloak down, silver hair spilling out around his shoulders as he does so. 

“Regulus,” Lucius greets, a cat-like grin spreading over his face. “I can’t express how delighted I am to see you here.”

“Lucius,” Regulus clips, nodding tightly. 

“Ever the charmer, hm, Regulus?” Lucius chuckles. “Narcissa sends her regards, by the way.”

Regulus’ heart clenches, thinking of his cousin. She was always his favorite and he’s almost positive that she felt—hopefully feels—the same way about him. They were the same in so many ways—the youngest, always careful, and always outshined by their older, bolder siblings. He hasn’t seen her since that night when he got taken to the Potters. It’s because of her that he wound up there. It was Narcissa who saved him, demanding Kreacher take him away. He doesn’t know whether to thank her or hate her for that. 

Either way, he knows he misses her. He hasn’t let himself think about it much, but he does. Narcissa, his favorite cousin. Cissa, who took over Sirius’ role of protector as best she could the moment he walked out the door. Cissy, who was the only person Regulus knew who shared the pain and burden of losing a sibling like he did. He wonders if she resents him for getting to have his brother back, even if it was for a short time. She never got Andy back. At this point, she never will. Her path is laid.

“I’ll see her at Easter,” Regulus responds, keeping his voice light and steady. “Tell her that.”

“She knows that already,” Lucius informs him, smirking. “There are many plans for you come Easter, Regulus. Although, it wouldn’t have hurt you to write, would it?”

“Enough of this,” Regulus snaps. “This is no place for family business.”

“And still just as sensitive as ever,” Lucius clucks. “Let’s hope you’re not as pitiful tonight as you were back in August.”

Regulus flushes, the heat of his anger reflecting on his face. His fists clench, one around his wand, and he so desperately wants to take it, raise it at Lucius, and just—

“From the communications I received, we should start soon,” Parkinson speaks up. “We need to discuss our formation and what exactly it is we’re going to do.”

“Ah,” Lucius nods. “Well, that’s up to the group of you. I’m not here to help you. Rather, I’m here to supervise. Take note and report back.”

“Assigned to grunt work, are you, Lucius?” Regulus asks, his voice sickly sweet. Lucius narrows his eyes, his mouth tightening into a thin line, but he doesn’t take the bait. This is what Regulus means by the whole Malfoy mental stability-social decorum thing. If he said that to Bellatrix or his mother, or just about any of his family, they’d have lost their shit.

“I think we should split up,” Parkinson says, thoughtfully, dutifully ignoring their little spat. “We can cover more ground that way—take more casualties, as is the goal.”

“How do we decide who goes where?” Avery questions, crossing his arms. “Obviously, there’s more responsibility and credit in taking on the target directly. How exactly are we going to make that fair?”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” Parkinson rolls his eyes. “Avery, you, Mulciber, and Regulus will be with me. Rosier, Crouch, Flint, and Snape will take the other houses.”

“Why does Regulus get to go with you?” Flint scoffs, offended. “He’s a fifth year, barely sixteen. I’m a seventh year. I’m not going to babysit all night while you go impress the Dark Lord.”

Lucius looks on, clearly unimpressed. Regulus doesn’t blame him. He feels the same way.

“Flint can take my place,” Regulus offers, his mind working quickly. “In the name of fairness.”

Parkinson looks at him skeptically. “Are you sure? I mean, tonight is about proving yourself, so if you’re not sure—”

“I’m sure,” Regulus nods. “Flint deserves at least one chance to actually get something done. If he can manage it.” Lucius laughs through his nose as Flint grows angrier.

“Alright,” Parkinson shrugs. “We’ll take the Lupins then. You four, whatever you can. Split up if you feel you can accomplish more that way, but stay in pairs.”

The two groups split off, hushed chattering coming from the older boys as they quickly strategize. Regulus’ group however is silent. He looks at Mulciber and Snape, resisting the urge to sigh deeply and roll his eyes. Instead, he settles for crossing his arms, ignoring the way he can feel his pounding heartbeat this way.

“Barty, Evan, and I will take the left side of houses,” Regulus tells them, firmly. “You two take the right. We’ll move from the far side inward. Meet back in the middle where the Lupin house is.”

“Lupin?”

Regulus looks away from the older boys, who are still talking. Regulus needs to leave before they do. His head turns, following the voice that echoed his words. Surprisingly, or maybe not, it’s Snape who spoke. Regulus arches a brow at him. “Yes, Severus, Lupin. Do you have an issue with that?”

“I—” Snape opens and closes his mouth, stuttering before shaking his head. “No. No, I don’t have an issue.”

Regulus looks him up and down. The two of them both know he has a vendetta against Remus. In fact, the whole school might. He narrows his eyes. “Don’t fuck around. You’ve been given a place here as a favor, not because you deserve it.” He turns to Barty and Evan, who are watching, silent and expressionless. “Come on, let’s go.”

Regulus sweeps off, his robes billowing in the wind behind him. Staring forward, he glances at Parkinson and the others in his peripheral. They’re still speaking, but Regulus knows he doesn’t have much time. Once they’re far enough away, out of earshot with Mulciber and Snape disappearing down the lane, he whips are to face Barty and Evan. 

“Listen to me and listen closely,” Regulus hisses, eyes darting between the two of them. “There’s no way in hell that I’m letting the Lupins die tonight.”

“Regulus—” Evan begins, frowning.

“No,” Regulus shakes his head quickly. “Absolutely fucking not. If I have to attack some Muggles afterward, or face some punishment because I’m a part of a mission that failed, so be it. But them? Absolutely not.”

“But why?” Barty says, positively distressed. “Regulus, we have one job.”

“Sirius will kill me,” Regulus informs them, rifling through his robes. He pulls out the watch, clucking his tongue. The watch has changed position, moving from its usual spot at Ehwaz: progress to Laguz: intuition. Pandora forewarned him of this happening at some point—the watch wants him to make his own decision because it won’t make much difference in the end. This means one of two things for Regulus—he’ll manage to save the Lupins either way or they’ll die either way. Lovely odds.

“Are you really checking the time right now?” Barty groans. “Potter can wait a few hours, Regulus.”

“We need to move , Regulus,” Evan says, urgently. “We have to follow through on orders.”

“You two go on,” Regulus tells them. He holds out his wand, knife, and the invisibility cloak. He can’t transform with them on him and he’s not risking stashing them somewhere. “I need you two to hold onto these things for me.” 

“What are you going to do?” Barty demands. “I mean, Regulus, your wand? You can’t—”

“I have to,” Regulus cuts him off, shoving the items into his arms. “I’ll find you when I’m done.”

“They’re going to know it was you,” Evan whines, his eyes wide. “Even with a disillusionment charm as good as yours, they’re going to know. It’s a death sentence, Regulus. It’s not worth it.”

“No, they won’t,” Regulus shakes his head. “Although, I do hope the two of you have brushed up on your Occlumency recently, just in case.”

“Occlumency? Regulus, what?”

Regulus ignores them, focusing. He hasn’t done it very much, honestly. It hasn’t been long. He thinks he needs to now though. It’s the only thing he can think of, so it’ll have to do.

“Oh, what the absolute fuck,” Barty cries out, turning to Evan and back to Regulus. “What the fuck?!”

“Oh, Merlin,” Evan groans. “When did you learn to do that?”

Regulus sits there on the ground, in his Animagus form. Well, at least it worked. Now, Barty and Evan need to shut up and do what they’re supposed to. There’s no telling how much time he has before the others get to the Lupin house. He scampers off, running at a quick pace. He’s fast and agile. Faster than the others likely are, considering how hard he’s pushing himself. 

When he reaches the house, he goes immediately to the back of the house. Through the window, he can see them. Remus’ parents. He can’t believe they’re still awake this late, but they are. Perched on the sofa together, watching something on the Muggle television. Call it fate.

Okay, so he’s this close. Now, he has to figure out how the fuck to get into the house, or at least alert them somehow. He should have taken the cloak and his wand with him instead. Why did he think this was the best way to go about it? He darts his head around the back porch, taking in his surroundings. 

There, he finds it. What he needs. Well, he’s going to have to hope this is what needs to happen. In the distance, he can hear the others getting closer and closer. Not too far away, only about four houses down, he can see flames. Fuck.

Regulus jumps onto the windowsill that’s lined with flower pots. He hesitates. They’re quite pretty, very clearly carefully tended to, but there’s no room to think about or care about that now. He takes his paw and swipes forcefully, causing them to clatter to the ground, smashing upon impact. It’s loud. Regulus can only hope it’s loud enough. He looks inside, watching as Remus’ father gets up, clutching his wand.

Okay, so that much of it worked. The thing is, now Regulus has to figure out how the hell he’s going to convince them to leave. If Remus’ dad comes out and sees the pots broken and a cat sitting there, he won’t know it’s a warning. He’ll think it’s a pesky stray or a curious housecat that got out. They won’t leave. They’ll die.

Regulus’ mind races, thinking. Thinking, thinking, thinking. All he can do is think, his thoughts moving at a rapid pace. He knows their wards aren’t strong, seeing as they didn’t keep Regulus away unless they don’t impact animals and Animagi.

If a cat could heave a frustrated sigh, that would be the noise that leaves Regulus’ mouth. This has the potential to get him into deep shit, but it’s the only way.

Mr. Lupin, whatever his name is, swings the door open, stepping out onto the porch. He sweeps his gaze across the back garden before he notices Regulus.

“Oh,” he says, smiling slightly. “Who are you?”

And well, Regulus is probably about to scare the shit out of him, but oh, well. It’s his life on the line. At least he’ll survive a fright.

“You need to leave right now,” Regulus hisses, properly transformed, his hands raised in surrender. “Now. Leave right now.”

“Sirius?” Remus’ father questions, stumbling backward into the wall at the surprise. “What are you doing here?”

Regulus has to actively force his eyes to stay in place so he doesn’t roll them. He doesn’t even look that much like Sirius. “No, I’m his brother. Regulus Black. You need to leave right now, do you hear me?”

“Leave?” Mr. Lupin questions, straightening up, suspicious now. His grip on his wand tightens. “Regulus Black…You’re the Black heir. What are you doing here?”

“I’m here on a mission to kill you ,” Regulus hisses. He doesn’t fucking have time for this. “ Leave. Spare yourself and your wife.”

Behind Remus’ father, the house shakes and Remus’ mother screams. Alright, so they do have some wards. Not nearly comprehensive enough, but they’re there. He whips his head around and back to Regulus, confusion all over him. 

“Why are you doing this?” Mr. Lupin asks, his voice low. “Why are you warning us?”

Regulus hesitates. The house shakes again and Regulus can hear Remus’ mother calling for her husband. Lyall , she calls. His name is Lyall. “For Sirius. Now go. ”

“I—” Lyall’s eyes widen and there, written all over him is fear. “I don’t know where to go—we don’t have any family, no safe house, I don’t know—”

“Go to Dumbledore,” Regulus blurts out, unable to think of anything else. “Take your wife and go to Dumbledore. Hogsmeade first—you can’t apparate into Hogwarts. Send a Patronus to him once you’re there. He’ll bring you into the castle then.”

Lyall looks at Regulus in shock. He’s snapped out of it when the house shakes again, debris falling from its structure. He whispers, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Regulus spits. “You haven’t left yet. You haven’t survived this yet.”

“Hope!” Lyall yells. “Come outside! Right now!”

Regulus should leave. The wards are going to give any moment now, but he can’t. He needs to see them leave. He needs to know that they’re safe. Within seconds, Remus’ mother comes running out, clinging to Lyall in her dressing gown. She’s a petite woman and her hair is the same color as Remus’. When she looks up at Regulus, he sees that she has his big brown eyes and that same smattering of freckles. His heart pangs.

“Sirius?” Hope, which is apparently her name, asks. Her pale eyebrows are drawn together, confused. Fearful. Regulus clenches his jaw so hard he’s surprised it doesn’t snap beneath the pressure of it. “What are you doing here? What’s going on?”

“Hope, this is Sirius’ brother, Regulus,” Lyall tells her, his arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders. The house shakes again and Regulus knows. He knows the wards are a mere curse away from being disarmed, and the front door is seconds from being blown down. “We need to leave.”

“There’s no time for introductions, you fool,” Regulus snaps, absolutely exasperated. “ Leave! And don’t breathe a word of my involvement in this to anyone but Dumbledore.”

“Aren’t you going to come?” Lyall asks, still not leaving. Oh, Regulus is going to kill him himself.

“No,” Regulus says, firmly. “Go! If you don’t leave right now, you’re going to die.”

As if on cue, the house gives a final shake and bits of the roof fall around them as Hope screams. Not even seconds later, the door is blown out with a red stream of magic.

“Go!” Regulus whispers, urgently. At this point, he’d apparate them himself, if he could. Surprisingly, he doesn’t need to, because Lyall listens. With a loud crack, they’re gone. 

It takes Regulus about one second to transform and run at full pelt out of the garden and to the left of the house. He can hear their voices ringing out through the house, as he runs away, indiscriminately casting curses. He can hear screams, smell burning, see fire, and feel the heat of it. His heart pounds in his chest as he gets closer. He’s not done. He’s nowhere near done.

“Give me my wand,” Regulus hisses, coming up behind Barty, who’s laughing maniacally as he lights a tree on fire. And a car. He’s having far too much fun. Evan is nearby, doing the same, but he’s not quite as excited about it from what Regulus can see.

“Regulus,” Barty jumps, clearly not expecting him. “Are you done already? That was a lot quicker than I thought it’d be.”

It had felt like an eternity had passed in the time it took Regulus to pull that off, so he’s rather relieved to hear Barty say that. “Yes. Now give me my wand.”

“Did it work?”

Snatching the wand from Barty, as well as the watch and invisibility cloak, he shoves them into his robes. “Yes. Are we supposed to go into the houses? Or just this?”

Barty shrugs, flicking wand carelessly to aim a stream of fire through a window. “Dunno, honestly. This seemed good enough to us. You should try it. It’s kind of fun.”

Regulus glances around, ignoring Barty, his heart still pounding. He fishes the watch back out of his pocket, the metal hot. It’s focused on a new one, one it’s never landed on before. Hagalaz: wrath. Either Regulus is about to get caught and face the wrath of the others, or he needs to inflict his own. Swallowing with difficulty, he asks the watch which one it is. What does he need to do?

He feels it get hotter and endures the intense pain of his burn to watch the little hand whir around the face of it. Suddenly it stops, landing on intuition again. Regulus audibly groans, but then it starts up again, making its final stop on Eihwaz: death. He blinks. Is this—does that mean—

Suddenly, the front door of the house bangs open, a family running outside. A mother and father and two little boys.

Regulus could vomit.

He stares at them, the ground falling out from beneath him. Even in this state, he can hear her. Prove yourself. Prove yourself, Regulus. Prove yourself. Even in this state, he can hear him. You’re my brother, I don’t know how to not love you. You’re my brother, Regulus, I don’t know how to not love you. You’re my brother, I don’t know how to not love you.

“Regulus!” Evan shouts, panicked. “What do we do?”

The family is in absolute hysterics and Regulus’ breathing gets more shallow as he watches. The parents are crying out for their children who are running ahead of them. The little boys can’t be older than six and seven and they’re holding hands. The younger one is crying. The older one is too, but he’s trying to soothe his little brother through it. Regulus’ vision goes blurry and he doesn’t know if it’s from tears, or stress, or the heat of the house on fire in front of them.

“ Regulus!” Evan shouts again “ What do we do? ”

Just as there are moments, like earlier, where you realize just how deep the shit you’re in is, there are moments like this. Cataclysmic. Life altering. Not just for you, but for those around you. 

Regulus stands there, just having saved two lives, and now he holds four in his hands. Their fate rests upon him. Out of Evan and Barty, he’s the one who has to do this. Has to do something. 

He’s been standing on a precipice for a while now. Ever since he got to the Potters, really, he’s been standing there, waiting. His feet planted on a metaphorical edge, the wind whipping around him, just one gust away from him falling. He’s been so close to falling this entire time, but he’s managed to hang on by the skin of his teeth. Now, he’s faced with a choice—stay clinging only to fall later, or take the leap. Be the one to throw himself off the edge. Make the decision himself. There’s a difference, to Regulus. It’s rare that he gets to make choices for himself.

The little boys have ran far enough from the house that they’re only a stone’s throw away from Regulus at this point. He could reach out and touch them. Reach out and save them. Distantly, he can hear Lucius’ voice, urging him to act. He doesn’t know if it’s real or not because he can hear his mother too, and Sirius, and Barty, and Evan. Their voices are so loud, ringing in his ears as the crackle of flames and falling of burning wood rips through the air around him.

Regulus steels his gaze, focusing on the little boys in front of him, his hand twitching around his wand. They’re so close now. He really could reach out and touch them. If he was brave enough, he could reach out and save them from harm. Wrap them in his arms and try to apparate away. He’d probably be able to do it, if he really tried.

He doesn’t.

He raises his wand, arm trembling as he does, and fixates on the little boy. The younger one is weeping and hiccuping and holding onto his brother. The one he sees himself in. When the boy sees Regulus standing there, illuminated by the light of the fire, holding his wand, he starts crying harder, and the other little boy—the older one—steps in front of him. Protects him. He looks at Regulus, his little face lined with defiance and fear, and all Regulus can see is Sirius. It’s blinding and it makes him hesitate, his wand lowering just an inch.

Regulus could do it to himself, but he can’t do it to Sirius. He knows it’s not the two of them, but the idea of even hurting someone reminiscent of Sirius makes Regulus’ stomach churn, threatening to make him sick.

So, he rolls his shoulders, raises his wand higher, focusing on the mother and he pictures his own. Thinks of everything she did to him, everything she did to Sirius, and he lets the rage bubble up inside of him. He feels it course through his veins and into his magic. He feels it vibrate in his wand. He feels the watch burn in his pocket and he knows. He knows this is what he has to do. He just wishes he didn’t have to do it so soon.

“ Crucio!”

—

“Mr. Lupin,” Dumbledore says, his eyebrows raised. He looks at the four of them. “Oh, hello, all of you.”

“Professor,” Remus pants, his hand clutching his side. “I need to talk to you. Now.”

“By all means,” Dumbledore nods, opening the door to his study further. They’re lucky that James knew the password to get past the gargoyle—Regulus had mentioned it to him not too long ago.

Remus storms in, the other close behind him. Still out of breath, he looks at Dumbledore, his face grim. “There’s a raid. Tonight, there’s a raid happening and they’re going to try to kill my parents.”

Dumbledore stares at him a moment, his face inscrutable. “How did you come across this information, Mr. Lupin?”

“I heard it,” Remus confesses. He doesn’t care about the consequences right now. If he gets a month's detention for being at the Hog’s Head, so be it. He’ll take detention for the rest of his time at Hogwarts if it means he can save his mum and dad. His mum and dad, who aren’t exactly the best parents, but weren’t dealt the best hand either. His mum, a muggle, with a werewolf for a son. His dad, who hates werewolves, with one for a son. They’ve got it pretty rough, so the fact they’ve even been half-decent is enough for Remus to want them to live. They were never bad either, just—distant. Unsure. He can’t blame them. Even if they had been bad, he can’t believe he’d be okay with them not being okay.

“You heard it,” Dumbledore repeats, raising his eyebrows again. “Where did you hear this information?”

“The Hog’s Head,” Sirius says. 

“It was my idea to go there, Professor,” James tells him. “None of the others—it was my idea.”

Dumbledore sighs, walking around his desk to sit down. He takes off his half-moon spectacles, placing them in front of him. The portraits sleep behind him. Clasping his hands, he looks at all the boys, but he focuses on Remus. “Remus—may I call you Remus?”

“Yes,” Remus nods. He doesn’t care about formalities. Dumbledore can call him whatever he’d like if it means that he saves his parents.

Dumbledore nods. “Remus, as it happens, I’m aware of the raid that happened tonight.”

“Happened,” Remus murmurs, weakly. “It…it happened already?”

“It did,” Dumbledore nods again. “And, as it happens, I have already been in contact with your parents. They are safe.”

“They’re safe,” Remus repeats, blowing out a harsh breath. He feels like his knees are going to give out, and somehow, Sirius knows because he rushes forward to support him. 

“Where are they?” James questions.

“They were here, actually, just about ten minutes ago,” Dumbledore informs him. “They’re now at a safe house until we are fully aware of how imminent the threat against them is.”

“Can I see them? Talk to them? Just for a minute?” Remus begs.

“I’m sorry, Remus,” Dumbledore murmurs, his eyes sad. “Not yet. Soon, but not yet.”

“How did you know, Professor?” Peter asks, wringing his hands. “About the raid, I mean? About them?”

Dumbledore surveys Peter before speaking, and Remus can’t miss the calculating look in his eyes. “One of our spies was on the ground at the raid. They made sure that Remus’ parents got out before they could be harmed.”

“Our?” Sirius asks, his brows furrowed. He looks at the other boys. “Sorry, sir, I just—well you said ‘one of our spies’. What does that mean? The Ministry?”

Again, Dumbledore is quiet for a beat before responding. “How aware are you four of the Order of the Phoenix?”

Remus has no clue what that is, but he assumes it’s some type of resistance group. He’s heard whispers of one. An organization with the sole purpose of working against the Death Eaters.

“I know about it,” James admits, running a hand through his hair. He glances at the others, particularly Sirius, who nods back at him. Looks like Sirius was looking for a confirmation. There’s a hungry look in his eyes. “My mum and dad—they’re a part of it, aren’t they? I mean, I don’t know much, honestly, but I know a bit because of them.”

“Fleamont and Euphemia are a part of the Order,” Dumbledore confirms. “For you two who may not be aware, the Order of the Phoenix is a secret society created to fight off Voldemort and his Death Eaters. It was founded, funnily enough, by me. We have many members, and spies, within our network, for situations just like this one.”

“Can we join?” Sirius asks, eagerly. Remus looks at him sharply.

“Members of the Order of the Phoenix must be of age,” Dumbledore says, his eyes twinkling.

“But, sir, I am of age,” Sirius tells him, speaking quickly. “I turned seventeen in November. I’m of age. I can do it.”

“It’s a great deal of responsibility,” Dumbledore replies. “It comes with danger and must be regarded with the highest level of commitment and dedication. This not like Defense Against the Dark Arts—this is war, Sirius.”

“I know, but—” Sirius shakes his head, looking down. When he looks back up, Remus can see the fire in his eyes. “My brother is already fighting this war, sir. He’s not even of age. I’m ready to fight too.”

When Remus looks back at Dumbledore, sure that he’ll dissuade him further, because, well, he’s just a kid, his stomach drops . Dumbledore doesn’t look regretful. He doesn’t look like he’s getting to let Sirius down easy. He looks pleased.

“I’ll be of age next month, sir,” James says. “I want to be a part of the Order too. I want to fight. My—If my mum and dad are fighting, I want to fight too. I will fight.”

“James, I was led to believe you have aspirations to be a professional Quidditch player,” Dumbledore says, tilting his head slightly. “Is that no longer the case?”

“There’ll be no Quidditch to play if this doesn’t end,” James responds, bravely.

Dumbledore nods in agreement, looking down at his aged hands. He looks up, right at Remus, and then at Peter. “Do you boys want to join the Order as well? Is this something you’re interested in?”

Remus’ heart pounds. He has to say yes, he knows he does. This is not a time to be cowardly. Not when he’s being offered entry into an organization responsible for saving the lives of his parents. Swallowing, he nods. “I’m of age next month as well.”

“And you Mr. Pettigrew, when do become of age?”

“June,” Peter squeaks, his voice trembling. If Dumbledore notices, he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Take a seat, all of you,” The headmaster gestures to the seats in front of him. “We have some things to discuss.”

Remus glances at James and Sirius out of the corner of his eye. Something about this feels—wrong. He thinks of Regulus, who he knows is tormented by his involvement with Dumbledore, and resists grimacing. He wonders how James will explain this to him, or even how Sirius will, when Regulus is doing what he is with the intention of protecting them, saving them. Regulus didn’t tell him the details of it all, but Sirius did, telling him in hushed darkness under the protection of sleeping roommates and curtains drawn around a four-poster. Remus knows now. He knows what Regulus is up against, in its entirety, and just what the purpose is.

Sitting down, Remus imagines how it would feel knowing that the people you love most in the world are putting themselves in the line of fire when that’s exactly what you’re willing to die for to avoid.

He doesn’t know for sure, because he’s not really in it, but he can’t imagine it feels good.

No, he thinks it would feel pretty awful, actually.

—

The Aurors arrive shortly after. Regulus doesn’t even cast the curse for very long. Nowhere near as long as he’s had it cast on him in the past. Nonetheless, a part of him cracks away and disappears as he does. It floats through the wind alongside the sound of the woman’s screams, eventually fading to nothing.

He and the others get away, somehow. Regulus isn’t sure how. Once he lowered his wand, he just went—blank. 

But, he’s safe. He’s alive.

He doesn’t feel like it.

—

“Regulus!” Barty bursts out, once they’re back in the dorm room and he’s practically buzzing with energy. It’s just the three of them. Burke is off with his girlfriend, again. “That was—that was absolutely insane. How do you feel? How did it feel? Was it—did it feel good? And you're a bloody Animagus? Why didn't you tell us? I want to—”

“Barty,” Evans murmurs, warningly.

“What?” Barty asks, clueless. “I mean, that was insane! We were actually in it. It was—”

“ Barty,” Evan hisses.

“When my father hears about this…” Barty says to himself, ignoring Evan. Regulus watches as his lips twitch, holding back a smile. Even so, he can’t hide the gleam in his eyes—wild and pleased. 

“You better hope your father doesn’t hear about this!” Evan snaps, his voice rising. His pale cheeks are flushed and Regulus wonders if it's from the cold or from the anger evident in his features. He can’t bring himself to ask.

“He’d lose his shit,” Barty argues, waving his hands around. “It’d be perfect, don’t you see? Then he’d know—he’d really know that he can’t control me. He can’t make me into the son he wishes I was.”

“Do you even understand what just happened?” Evan bursts out. “What we just did? Can you even begin to think critically? Ask yourself, Barty, what it would mean for all of us if your dad knew of our involvement in that. This isn’t you failing classes or fucking with first years! This is real. We just committed serious, serious crimes. We just ruined people's lives!”

They keep talking after that, or arguing, maybe. Regulus isn’t sure because he can’t seem to focus on what they’re saying at the moment. His head is spinning and his blood is rushing in his ears. Every part of his body feels cold—numb. He’s not sure why. It could be the Occlumency he’s trying to use right now to push away what he just did or the stress of traveling back. It could be a lot of things making him feel like this right now.

Eventually, Regulus realizes that the room has gone quiet. He blinks, looking around. Kneeling in front of him is Evan. He looks at Regulus concernedly, his eyes soft. “Reg, are you okay?”

That’s quite a question, isn’t it? 

He’s fine, he thinks. He’s not the one who was on the other side of the wand. Even so, he can’t help but feel like he was. He can’t stop the loop playing in his head, bringing him back to that night in August when he lay twitching and writhing and screaming on the floor of his family home. But, Regulus isn’t the victim tonight. No, he’s the perpetrator. He’s also fine. He’s completely fine.

Regulus opens his mouth to speak, to assure Evan of this, and promptly vomits on the floor.

“Okay, okay,” Evan says, panicked. “It’s okay, no big deal, yeah? I’ll clean it up—you’re okay, Regulus.”

Regulus groans, his head pounding and his stomach lurching. So yeah, maybe he’s not totally fine.

“What’s wrong with him?” Barty asks, distantly, his voice small.

“He just tortured a woman, Barty,” Evan spits. “Maybe this will make you realize that this isn’t all fun and games. Dark magic affects the body, especially if you aren’t used to casting it. Not to mention the damage it does to your conscience.”

“I’m fine,” Regulus says, weakly. He wipes his back with the back of his hand, grimacing at the puke on the corners of his mouth. “Really, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Evan grumbles. He casts a quick vanishing spell on Regulus’ puddle of sick on the floor. Sighing, he sits back on his heels, still kneeling in front of him. “Nothing about that was fine, so I don’t know how you expect me to believe you are.”

Regulus shakes his head, feeling his stomach swirl again. “I’ll be fine. I need to get used to it anyway.”

Evan looks at him skeptically, biting his lip. Hesitating slightly, he asks, “Do you want me to get James?”

And, oh. James. James can’t ever know about this. Thrown into the chaos of it all, Regulus hadn’t even stopped to think about James until Regulus brought him up. How is it, that through all of that, he didn’t think about him? 

Regulus sits there, suspended in reality with the taste of bile still on his tongue, and fully grasps the implications of what he's just done. What he's been forced to do only a month after his return to school.

Unwittingly, his mind wanders briefly to New Year's Eve, when everything was still normal. When he was still allowed, in some sense, to be a kid. Those days are long behind him, no matter how close they might be.

It's hard to believe that Regulus is the same person who showed up on the Potter’s doorstep all those months ago. Almost unbelievable to think that less than a year ago, he spent his free time reading in their library and sharing meals with them. He never felt worthy of it before, but he definitely doesn't now. He has blood on his hands and it won't rinse off.

Easter falls in March this year. After tonight, he knows more than ever what that means. Time continues to pass more quickly and the road ahead of him grows more daunting.

Regulus snaps his gaze to Evan, panicked. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, quick breaths leaving him. He leans forward falling onto his knees and fists his hands in Evan’s robes. “James can’t know about this. Do you understand me? He cannot , under any circumstances, hear about what I did tonight?”

“Regulus—” 

“No,” Regulus shakes his head quickly. “No. No, you don’t understand. He doesn’t even know I was there tonight. If he finds out that I didn’t tell him and then I did that—” Regulus keeps shaking his head, anxiety rising. “He’ll—He’ll—”

“Regulus,” Evan whispers, soothingly, grasping his arms. “We won’t tell him, okay?”

“He’s going to find out,” Regulus tells him, his eyes wide. “I know he will. I just—I can’t face it yet. When I have to, I will, but I have to wait. As long as possible. If he finds out I think—I think he could—”

“James Potter isn’t going to ditch you over this,” Barty scoffs, finally speaking up. Regulus and Evan both snap their gaze to him. Barty raises his eyebrows at them. “What? He’s totally gone on you, Regulus. I think you could actually murder someone and he would still hear you out. It’s not as if you wanted to do this—clearly.”

“You say that as if it's a bad thing that Regulus didn’t want to do this” Evan snaps. “What, did you want to? Did you like it?”

Barty rolls his eyes. “Don’t get like that with me, Rosier. I never said anything like that.”

“But you did, earlier, and I bet you would around the others,” Evan accuses. He sets his jaw. “And really, ‘Rosier’? We’re back to that now?”

“Don’t be so sensitive,” Barty scowls. “Why are you freaking out right now?”

“Because our best friend was just forced to save the parents of one our schoolmates, tortured a woman, and we destroyed a neighborhood full of innocent people, Barty!” Evan cries out, his voice getting higher. “Why aren’t you freaking out? Why did you—enjoy it? Tell me the truth!”

“I’m not dealing with this shit right now,” Barty growls, turning to leave.

“Wait—” Evan says, desperately. “Where are you going? Barty, where are you going?”

“Somewhere, I don’t know,” Barty doesn’t turn around to look at either of them. “I’ll be back later.” He leaves the dorm, slamming the door behind him. 

Regulus is quiet, waiting for Evan to speak. His hands are still shaking and he sure as hell doesn’t know what to say about what just happened. If he’s being honest, he’s never given much thought as to how Barty and Evan, well, work. 

Barty is…unpredictable. At one point, very early into his time at Hogwarts, Regulus had a bit of a crush on Barty. Nothing serious, just a bit of background noise. It quickly faded, seeing as he had his hopes set elsewhere, but also because Barty is just chaotic. Even if Regulus’ life wasn’t nearly as messy then as it is now, he still knew he didn’t want that. His whole life, he’s yearned for stability. Barty is the last person that Regulus would ever expect to offer that.

Evan, on the other hand, is the opposite. Quiet, consistent, and reasonable. Soothing, even. Regulus likes that about him. He’s careful, much more careful than Barty ever will be. Regulus can’t even begin to wrap his head around the idea of Evan daring to act on his feelings for Barty. Honestly, Regulus didn’t even know they were really there. Sure, he saw the signs—lingering touches and glances and all of that, but he never put much stock in it.

“He’s going to do something stupid,” Evan mutters, eventually.

“He might not,” Regulus tries. 

“He will,” Evan says, firmly. “It might not be tonight or even this week, but he will. He’ll hold onto this and it’ll burst out of him later when he can’t handle it anymore.”

Regulus just nods. Evan’s probably right. He almost definitely knows more about Barty at this point than Regulus does.

“You two are still…good, then?” Regulus asks, thinking back to his earlier conversation with Barty. “I mean aside from that?”

Evan sighs, letting go of him. He swipes a hand over his face. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s good. He’s just—Barty is getting antsy these days. His father won’t let up and all it does is make him resist more. Itch to act out, you know?”

“I’ve noticed that,” Regulus admits. “Tonight was…”

Evan cuts him off with a look. “Tonight was awful. He liked it. I know he did. Even if it wasn’t the actual act of what we were doing, there was something about it he enjoyed it.”

Regulus grimaces. It’s true. Barty was far too enthralled by everything that happened tonight. It’s one thing to do all of this because of duty, whether it be one to your family or something else, but to enjoy it, to want it, is something else entirely. It’s concerning—more than that even. It’s terrifying to Regulus. Barty is willing and ready to throw himself into the thick of all of this and there’s only so much he can do to stop it.

Barty made his stance clear tonight and it’ll be reported back by Lucius. There’s no way Regulus can get him out of it now, not fully at least. Himself, Barty, and Evan are in this now. Regulus just has to try to protect them while it’s happening.

“We’ll keep an eye on him,” Regulus murmurs, and he means it. He won’t let Barty get lost in all of it. 

“We’ll see if that’ll be enough,” Evan says back. 

It has to be, Regulus thinks. It has to be.

After that, the two of them discuss the night. Aside from Regulus’ breakdown, they don’t discuss what he did. They go over the logistics—the parts Regulus can’t seem to remember. Once the aurors arrived, Lucius cast a spell and disapparated, leaving the rest of them to make it to Portkeys in the park they met in. They made their way back into the castle seamlessly and on Parkinson’s orders, everyone returned to their dorm rooms to avoid suspicion.

“It’ll be in the Prophet by tomorrow then,” Regulus thinks out loud. 

Evan nods. “Front page, I’m sure.”

Regulus wonders if Remus will be notified that his parents were targets. Depending on Dumbledore’s response, he might even know already, which means they all would. Even if for some reason Dumbledore had sworn Remus to secrecy, Regulus is sure that he’d tell the other boys.

Tomorrow night is the Valentine’s Slug Club party, so there’ll be very little avoiding that group, even if it’s just seeing them across the room. Again, Regulus feels nauseous, thinking about it. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to hide it when they’re looking at him.

His previous confidence in his Occlumency is beginning to wane. He needs to start using it more—constantly, if he can. It’s the only way he can see possible to hold himself back as he continues on. Aside from that, it’s the only real place he can hide—far and deep within his mind. Nowhere else is safe. Not anymore.