Prologue
Regulus was fifteen the day his older brother died.
Sirius always was the one person to push and push Orion and Walburga Black to the extreme. He continued to act in his own way, consequences be damned. Continued to be his own person. Regulus used to admire this quality of his brother’s for years until he learned-
No…
Until he was shown what happened to those who disobeyed Orion and Walburga Black.
The day his brother died, a piece of Regulus died too. A piece that was good. The piece inside Regulus Black’s wretched heart that showed what a good person could actually be. His brother had been a true star that shone so brightly; Sirius had the capability to cast away the negativity that seemed to drown the Black Manor.
And shine Sirius did.
Until the very end.
Regulus wouldn’t say his brother died a beautiful death. No. Their parents would have never allowed that but Sirius still managed to make it beautiful.. His brother’s defiance was the beauty in his death. He didn’t change, didn’t beg, he didn’t plead for his parents to stop. No, Sirius stayed silent, never giving into their parents taunting. Regulus still remembered the screams he let out as he was dragged from the parlor, begging their family butler, Kreature, to release him. Regulus’ pleas to his parents through the door to not hurt his brother. The sound of the gun echoing throughout the house. The silence of the Black Manor after Sirius was done shining in this world. The regret that consumed Regulus when he failed to help his brother, when it truly mattered.
The day his brother died, Regulus' own life ended. He was forced to take Sirius Place as heir to the Noble house of Black. Forced to become what his parents wanted. The perfect heir. The perfect replacement. Regulus would soon learn that the admiration he held for his brother’s pure and good nature, was what led them to their demise.
Regulus was nineteen the day Orion Black died. He remembered how tranquil it was as his father went peacefully in his sleep, surrounded by the rest of the Black- Malfoy family.
And yet- the only thing Regulus thought on this day was how Orion Black wasn’t worthy of a peaceful death, how this man- who beat his own children, who killed his own son along with countless others in his endless ascend to power- had stolen the death that Sirius deserved. The thought of his father’s death brought relief rather than grief. He smiled and drank with Barty and Evan while Walburga wailed over her grief for her late husband, alone in her room.
The day his father died, Regulus felt truly happy, even if it was just for a moment. Regulus only wished he had been able to tell Orion how much he wanted to be the one that killed him that day.
Regulus was twenty years old the day Walburga fell ill, a year and a half after Orion’s death. There was a soft part of Regulus’ heart which caused him to hire at-home nurses and doctors to care for her. Regulus would’ve preferred to let her die as soon as they had gotten the news of her cancer but there was something in his heart that tugged softly towards his sick mother.
Perhaps it was due to the few forms of compassion she showed her sons. The times she would comfort Regulus and Sirius following Orion’s fits of violent rage, the soft forehead kisses she’d give them before bed. Perhaps it was the time after Sirius and Orion’s death, and Regulus heard her soft sobs of grief through the library door. The warm hand held out for him when she had pulled Regulus from the classroom to take him to see Totentanz, remembering that it was his favorite classical piece. Or the time she had taken a beating from her own husband in place of her four year old son after Regulus had spoken English instead of French.
His mother changed once Regulus reached the age of nine; Walburga no longer showed the little signs of the warmth she had given him in his younger years. Regulus found it hard to hate her but also to love her and so, he distanced himself from her, refusing to be weak towards the woman who allowed his brother to die at his father’s hand.
Walburga continued to live, despite her illness; How? Regulus had no idea. He’d never gone to see her after he hired the doctors and stay at home nurses, never stepped foot in the left wing of the Black Manor. Regulus decided early on he would only do so when she was well and truly going to die so that he could ask her why she’d turn cold towards her own children, why she’d allow the abuse to continue, why she let Sirius die.
So, Regulus now lived in the house of his childhood, surrounded by shadows and memories made nightmares, his dying mother only a series of stairs and hallways away. The black and emerald walls of the Black Manor choked him but Regulus refused to give into the weight of their darkness. Regulus decided, yes, he would be the heir to the Black family business, but he would do it by his own means to meet his own twisted goals. He would live how he wanted, punish how he wanted. Regulus may have spent his cursed childhood attempting to mold his blackening heart towards their own desires, but Regulus was the one in charge now.
Regulus survived. Regulus survived while Sirius was murdered, Orion died, and Walburga lay on her death bed. He would continue to survive, by any means necessary.
. . .
James Potter was sixteen years old the day Sirius Black showed up on his doorstep, bleeding and dying before him. That was the day James Potter found hatred within himself at those who lived in the Black Manor. He truly hated Walburga and Orion more than any other person for what they did to Sirius. He hated himself for this newfound ability to hate others.
James hated himself for not whisking Sirius away to his house. He hated the feeling of failing at protecting his friend when he needed him most. He hated the screams Sirius let out in his sleep for the first months he was there. But what James Potter truly hated about himself? Was that he could never truly hate Regulus Black