Remus Lupin Had to Pay
A suspicion began building in Regulus that festered inside of him all summer. The school year drew to a close quickly, and Sirius recovered even quicker. Only weeks after the April morning in the hospital wing when Regulus discovered his brother would live, Sirius was back to his lessons, as cheerful and sarcastic as ever. His magic was slow to return, and Regulus watched silently as his brother struggled time and time again to cast basic spells, and pretending as if it didn't bother him. Suddenly thrust back into his normal life, Regulus was unprepared for the dismissive manner Sirius treated him for the rest of the year. He had to remind himself that his brother had no idea how worried Regulus had been, he didn't know he had nearly wasted away by Sirius’s side. James didn't tell him, he made sure of that. Regulus for some reason found the idea of Sirius knowing how painfully vulnerable he made Regulus unbearable. It was as if nothing had happened, Sirius giving fleeting smiles every now and then when they passed each other in the hallways, Regulus completely and totally ignoring his existence. It was only on the last day of school, when Regulus was stepping off the Hogwarts express, ready to face his parents again and all mementos tucked safely away in his trunk, that the two brothers properly spoke again. Sirius and James came up behind him as he got off, Sirius grabbing his arm jovially and giving him a winning smile. Regulus caught a glimpse of his wand shoved into his robe pocket, out of sight, and felt a flash of pity for his brother. His magic was returning to him bit by bit, but not being able to use his wand would have felt to Regulus like losing a limb.
“Are you ready for our little family reunion, Reg?” his brother asked. Regulus grimaced.
“Can't wait,” he said flatly.
“I think we should pull at Bagman.” Sirius said to Regulus. Regulus frowned thoughtfully.
“You think? I don't know if they’ll fall for it this time.”
“They always do,” Sirius said lightly. Regulus shrugged. A Bagman was something the two of them had invented when they were little, as a way to keep their interactions with their parents to a minimum. It originated when Ludo Bagman came over for dinner once, at the beginning of his rise to fame and when Walburga decided the Black family should stay involved with modern celebrities, to maximize their influence on the current world. Bagman had talked nearly non-stop, asking countless mundane questions about the Black family that had kept Walburga and Orion occupied nearly all of dinner, before sweeping out before the Blacks could interrogate him about his relationship with the Minister of Magic, as they had intended to. It was usually Sirius, who feigned a sudden interest in a great-great ancestor that Walbuga would be all but thrilled to ramble on about, and Regulus who asked a series of follow up questions that would prevent Walburga from turning the focus to the two boys, and everything they could have done wrong since they saw their mother last. It only really worked when they got lucky, but it was worth a try.
“You should start off though, Reg.” Sirius said. “I don't think Mum will buy that I’m dying to hear about Great-Grandpa Arcturus again, not any more at least.”
“Yeah,” Regulus agreed. “She does think you’re a bit of a git”
“Rightly so” James piped in from behind Sirius. The three boys laughed. Regulus turned to James, wanting to say something but not quite sure what. The tousel of the other boy’s black hair and his crooked glasses were painfully familiar to Regulus. If he closed his eyes, he could see James standing there perfectly clearly, every detail the way he had memorized them over the last months. Even the warm steadiness of his presence brought a rush of calm to Regulus, a feeling almost like home. Discomfort clenched at Regulus at the thought of walking off the platform and away from James for nearly three months.
“That's mum.” Sirius said suddenly. Regulus’s stomach turned to ice.
“C’mon, she won't like it if we’re late,” he said. Sirius looked pale, a strange look of fear on his face. “Yeah,” he said faintly. “Bye, James.”
“Bye.” James said, looking pained as he grabbed Sirius in a hug. Sirius clung to James for just a moment, as if he could stop what was to come. “See you in a few months.”
“I'll write everyday, eh?” Sirius said anxiously. Regulus could see his brother trying desperately to hide it.
“I'll write twice a day.” James responded, a wry smile on his face. “You’ll be fine.”
Sirius said nothing, his expression frozen. Regulus looked between the two boys, very aware that something was going on that he didn't understand. Sirius looked scared, which wasn't something that happened a lot. James was watching his brother with concerned eyes.
“Bye, James.” Regulus said, attempting to break the tension. He had to leave soon, he could feel tears building behind his eyes and the last thing he wanted when he faced his mother was to already be weakened. James’s eyes were full of something Regulus couldn't understand as he looked at him.
“Bye, Reg.” he said, smiling weakly. He ran a hand through his already messy hair, visibly distressed. “Be careful, okay?”
“Alright,” Regulus said, glancing over at Sirius. His brother was staring at the floor, eyes miles away. When was Regulus ever not careful?
“I'll take care of Sirius” he said quietly to James. “He’ll be fine.”
“Take care of yourself, too.” James said. “If you want, you can always write to me.”
Regulus smiled at him. “I will,” he said, knowing he wouldn't. He couldn't steel himself to face his mother if he was reading James’s words and imagining the other boy was with him. He had already warned Barty, Evan, and Pandora not to write, both because he didn't want his mother finding out about his friends, and because he needed to keep his heart one of ice.
James made an awkward, jerky movement towards Regulus as if he was going to hug him, but Regulus shifted backwards at the same moment and both boys looked away. Regulus cleared his throat, catching his mother’s eye in the crowd and knowing it was his cue to leave.
“See you in a few months.” Regulus said firmly, turning away before James could say anything else. He didn't look back to check if Sirius was behind him, didn't look back to see the expression on James’s face. Worries raced through his head as he shoved through the crowd, and he pushed them down the best they could. James surely wasn't expecting a hug, right? In front of Sirius?
Regulus felt his cheeks grow warm. Maybe he should go back and just say goodbye again…
“Regulus.” A high pitched voice said. Regulus froze, biting back his sigh.
“Yes mother,” he said stiffly, turning away from James and the crimson train that exhaled steam like a long drag from a cigarette.
It was one month later that Regulus’s suspicions began to build.
He lay in his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as silvery light flickered softly in mesmerizing patterns from his window. A faint beat could be heard emanating from Sirius’s room, one of his muggle records, surely. A faint scruffle sounded loudly across the floorboards in the otherwise silent house, likely Kreacher. Regulus thought he heard someone calling his name, but he didn't bother to move. His head ached softly, cotton pressing against his skull in an uncomfortable thrum that even the dim light seemed to make worse. When Regulus closed his eyes, he thought he could feel water slipping over his heels, his splayed fingers. Rising over his chest. Warm and heavy, Regulus let his eyes flutter shut with a sigh and sent his mind wandering. Anywhere but in this room, where he felt the chains of his reality digging so tight into him he wanted to cut his body apart just to be free.
Solve a mystery. He thought desperately, thinking about the worn copy of some muggle book called Sherlock Holmes that he had found crammed halfway in a gutter last Christmas Eve. The book now lay hidden underneath his bed, well taken care of and dog eared. Some of the pages still crinkled under his touch when he turned them too fast, and beared stains from their previous misuse. When Regulus felt everything become too large he imagined he was Sherlock Holmes, and let his imagination carry him away to someplace else.
“The case is afoot” the detective would say. Regulus mouthed the words softly.
His mind traveled lightly over everything roiling inside his head, tapping gently for some sort of mystery he could think about until his mother called him down for dinner in a few hours. A difficult Arithmetic problem, perhaps, or a puzzling person in his life he could analyze to their very essence. As if pulled by an irresistible tug, the vision of Sirius lying still in the hospital wing flashed before him. The burning curiosity that had been lingering at him for months resurfaced, prodding him gently.
Who had done that to Sirius?
Regulus had pushed the thought away before, not wanting to know. The subject held him helplessly in a chokehold, he was terribly drawn to it, yet couldn't bring himself to fully ponder the question. The answer felt too deep, hundreds of miles beneath inky depths that Regulus knew would hurt to plunge through. Sirius hadn't wondered out loud, though Regulus knew the question doubtlessly plagued him at night. Everyone had seemed to take his brother’s survival as a blessing, with no reason to press further. Everyone had just pretended as if it had never happened, now that Sirius was smiling again. Yet the voice never stopped whispering in regulus’s mind. Who had done it?. He couldn't deny the slight prick of fear he felt each time. Would they do it again?
The scene of the crime. Regulus thought, imagining what Sherlock would say. He would start slow, not look all the facts in the eye until he had unpacked each individual one. James had said that Sirius had collapsed at noon, in the Dining Hall. A Dark Curse, he knew, had felled him. Regulus remembered his frail Defense against the Dark Arts professor telling the class that Dark Curses can be emitted from wands or ingested in the form of potions. Most potions take at least half an hour to work, he knew. Especially if they were very powerful. So Sirius must have taken something that morning, or else someone must have cursed him in the Dining Hall.
That seemed unlikely. To produce such a powerful curse in the plain sight of teachers, it would be obvious who had cast it, and James had mentioned nothing. Although Regulus didn't know what curse Sirius had been hit with, he knew that extremely strong curses, which this one must have been, usually are accompanied by a colorful jet of light, or at least a strong gust of wind. To cast a nonverbal dark curse was incredibly difficult, and Regulus found it hard to imagine any of the students, or even the teachers, were capable of such a feat.
Maybe Lord Voldemort. The pale man’s scarlet eyes blinked at him through Regulus’s shut lids. He shuddered slightly, pushing the thought away as if it could make the man no longer exist.
A potion then, Regulus concluded. A potion…
Regulus had a sudden memory of walking into a small classroom with a potion bubbling quietly in the corner. His view was blocked by Remus Lupin, who had hastily moved before him the moment he had entered the room. Remus was soot stained and sweaty, he remembered. The corridor around them had been empty…the echo of his footsteps had been deafening.
Students weren’t allowed to make potions, or use unoccupied classrooms during the day. Regulus knew this rule well from his lessons with James. What was Remus Lupin making he didn't want anyone to see, and was willing to break the rules to brew?
Unwillingly, Regulus remembered the book the older boy had left open on his desk. Draught to induce sickness and loss of magical ability. The symptoms had included fainting, long term comas. The sight of Sirius lying still pushed itself to the front of Regulus’s mind. Loss of magic ability. Sirius had struggled to light the tip of his wand at least ten times before he had managed the first night after he recovered. By now, Regulus figured it took him about five tries. A cold, sinking feeling crawled through Regulus. Not surprise, or shock. He had seen so much worse from his family, from the world around him. Torture, poison, even murder. A boy cursing his friend was far from unthinkable to Regulus. But why Remus…
Regulus laid there for a while, thinking. The sky slowly grew darker and the light speckling the ceiling receded, until it was lit with just a dim gray glow. Someone began clattering around downstairs, likely Kreacher preparing dinner. Sirius’s music grew louder. A single breath escaped Regulus’s lips, parted slightly as if he were waiting to speak, or if he were captivated in a film that only he could see.
The sky was dark when he finally sat up.
Remus Lupin was going to pay.