Spies Spies Spies
It was no church, no place of worship, it was full of bargains, grief and magic. Wizards when they died had funerals but the ceremonies were more important. Dark Wizards have tried for centuries, none have succeeded, they call themselves practitioners of Death. Although they practise nothing, they are now used for housing ceremonies.
Walking into the building it was cold, detached. The grey stone that surrounded him was old and dark, with serrated edges, like the cave. Water dripped, he startled, not moving an inch forwards as he looked to the side. An overgrown fountain stood timeless. Inside the wall, a man made of stone tried to claw his way out, his face obscured by a hood that covered his eyes. No water flowed through the fountain but water, black and green, dripped from its mouth.
Moving past it, there was a sign-in sheet at the front desk, the blank lines under his name mocked him. But he walked through the back anyway, the gravel path led him between graves and under trees, no one was around. A spell rolled over his shoulder’s, just in case, he told himself.
The sight of abandoned graves, overrun with moss and weeds, it made a pit in his stomach. If he hadn't made it, would that have been his destiny?
His shoes scuffled against the gravel as next to the path lay a headstone. It was clean, new. He couldn’t help but stare, his entire life and that was what was shown for it. What else he couldn’t stop staring at, was his father stood in front of it.
He bowed his head, like he was grieving.
“We were so much alike.” Orion spoke softly, as if they needed to be. “That family..” He moved his knee, he was in pain. “We were never meant to be apart of it.”
He whispered it, ashamed to say it and he should be. This wasn’t that family- there family- this was his family.
“We were born into the wrong one..” He shook his head softly, “The wrong family.” Slowly he put a hand on the headstone. “Neither of us were strong enough for it.”
‘Weak. He thinks I’m weak.’
Orion has no idea what, who Regulus is. Was. He was never nothing in that house, he wasn’t out of place, he wasn’t weak. He’s killed- he stole, plans to stop a man people fear to name. Orion would kneel over saying Voldemort’s name.
He hated it, every word, every time he was afraid of him. Of the pathetic, poor excuse of a father who stood in front of him now. He hated himself the most, for being afraid.
He didn’t stop the spell from keeping him invisible. Keeping up appearances- he was supposed to be dead, he convinced himself. Orion turned down the path, dragging his feet behind him.
Regulus was alone. Again. The burning inside of him was immediately drowned as he read his headstone.
‘Too afraid to stand for what was right- too afraid to fight for what he believed. He could have been more, but never chose to be.’
He wondered, deep down, if he even deserved that insult into the next life. And as he stood there the silence echoed with loneliness, empty breaths that were hardly followed. He thought about his father coming here, that image seared into his brain of him kneeled to his head stone, he hated it. He hated how much he wished it had been someone else.
He wondered why he had wanted his brother there to begin with. Regulus knows about love, he’s heard, written, read about it. How it can make or break a person, and he wasn’t going to be either of those stereotypes. This would not have made him if Sirius showed up, this will not break him that he hasn’t.
So, he walked away.
They stared. They stared at each other, one speechless and one shocked. “Regulus?...” He breathed out, looking past him to the headstone with that name and then back at the live man. “..Wha..” As he questioned his body moved, his hands reached out and grabbed onto his friend as if he thought he was imagining it. Regulus let him. “I knew you weren’t dead...” Barty breathed into his shoulder, relieved.
It was suffocating but it was real, Barty was here. “How?” He looked into his friends eyes, they were older now but Regulus remembered them regardless.
“I trusted you.” Barty replied, he didn’t understand what that meant and didn’t get the chance to think about it. “What are you even doing here?” His friend asked as he stepped back, Regulus was able to breathe lighter without the weight on his skin but the question brought with it fresh memories.
“Nothing.” He answered, thinking about what he had been planning to do. Thinking about all the possibilities, every single one, with Barty now here. He looked around, a silence had taken over them and it wasn’t a comfortable one.
This would have to be the second time it had ever happened between them. The first was when Barty came out to Regulus. He had awful timing, them both being on brooms in the air, Regulus nearly fell off when he registered the admission. They had stared at each other then too. Regulus broke it last time by coming out too, the conversation spiralled from there with their acceptance of each other. Would this time be like that, Regulus questioned, or was Barty now only loyal to Voldemort.
His eye flickered down to Bartys wrist, his own twitching but the wand against it allowed him to stand straighter.
Barty didn’t move, he smiled. “What have you been doing?” He laughed, the sound almost bringing a tear to his eye with how much he missed it. “Must be something good if you’re worried about me.” His eyebrow raised and he grinned. It was like he was transported right back into Hogwarts, meeting Barty for the first time, worried and scared but he had made a joke. He made him laugh. Back then, although he never acted like it, Regulus liked being his friend.
“It’s not all good..” Regulus said back with a slight shrug but Barty lit up and he could almost forget that his brother hadn’t shown up. Almost. But it was okay, Barty was here and he thinks that’s a good thing.
“It’s something then.” He said back, Regulus didn’t know how to respond. An awkward pause took over as he nodded, when was the last time he had spoken to Barty? He doesn’t even remember their last conversation. “I- um, I have an apartment.” Barty forced the conversation further, “You look like a ghost.” He smiled, finding the joke funny, he always found his jokes funny. At least some things didn’t change.
Regulus smiled, the corner of his mouth curled up only a bit but for Barty it was like he had just handed him the world. “You’re still an arsehole.”
Barty turned to him, “Oh that hurts Reggie.” He tried to act sincere but Regulus could see the grin on his face. He continued to stare, the breath knocked out of him, he doesn’t remember the last time he had been called that either. He couldn’t focus on the pain, Barty being here was all too much. Too many memories that he had abandoned.
Barty looked up as he took a deep breath, “It’s getting dark, we should go..” Barty fumbled for a bit, his hand brushing the hair out of his face before he was walking away. “This way. Still don't know how to aparate, huh?” He asked, joking, but it made him hesitate.
How did Barty know?
Did he know about all the places he's been because he can't aparate.
Was that why he was here, to stop Regulus if they had shown up?
Was the plan for an ambush? Maybe Barty had taken pity on him and asked to talk to him alone.
Where are they even going?
He walked slowly behind, slower and slower, watching the back of his past friend walk without a care. Could Regulus still call him a friend?
’Not family…’ Something whispered, the gurgle in his ear stopped him from moving. He was simmering, like a pot not hot enough to boil over but hot enough to burn.
’He thinks you’re weak.’
Barty stopped and turned to him, their eyes connecting immediately, “What- What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes looking to the right and Regulus followed him. The gravel path they had walked down led back to the church, they stood inches away from the building. Who was he looking for?
“Who are you looking for?” He asked, the tip of his wand touched the pads of his fingers and threatened the slip down.
“No one.” Barty answered back, his eyes looking around. “Can you feel that?...” The taunt makes Regulus stand taller, his wand was about to slip down to his hand but he was too fast. His breath was knocked out of him, not for the first time that day, and as he fell forwards Barty caught him. He should have expected it. His anger stayed, even as his eyes closed and his mind fogged over, his anger stayed.