Chapter 2
Regulus
Everything is fine.
Everything is fine.
Hell, everything is great even.
Everything is fine.
It’s what he’ been telling himself ever since he has washed his face and sat down next to Evan in their first lesson.
And it’s true. Because he wouldn’t lie. He never lies. So, it’s not a lie.
Regulus doesn’t lie, not because he can’t do it, but because it’s not fun or entertaining, being lied to on the other hand is one of his favourite things. He likes it because when you lie to someone you care about them.
He’s come to that conclusion years ago when Sirius lied about his scars to protect him and when he lied to their mother that he broke her favourite vase. So, when he can tell that Evan is lying about where he goes, he sometimes can’t even suppress a smile, because he cares enough to lie, to want to protect his feelings and keep him safe.
And if that’s not the biggest proof that someone cares about you then what is?
He does not lie. He doesn’t want to declare who he cares for with careless words. He’s not that brave.
That’s how he knows that everything is fine.
“Do you see that girl over there?”, Evan whispers near his ear and pulls him out his tunnel of thoughts.
“No.”
“The one with the red hair, come on you have to see her”, he doesn’t sound annoyed that is the fantastic thing about him, he doesn’t care how dry your answers are or if you don’t reply at all, he just wants to talk to someone about it.
That’s one of the reasons they are friend, Regulus thinks.
“Yes, I do see her”, he whispers back, because that’s what he’d do if everything was fine, and everything is fine.
“I’m thinking about shagging her”, he says smirking when Regulus sent him an annoyed glance, “you reckon I could get her?”
“Nope, she’s a Ravenclaw”, he smiles and taps his forehead, “too much brain to go out with someone like you.”
“You’ll see”, he replies before focusing back on the lecture and it’s quiet between them again.
It’s easy between them, they know how to act around each other and it’s comfortable. Sometimes Regulus thinks that Evan is the only friend he’ll ever be able to keep, because he is the only one who doesn’t expect him to respond to everything and instead just talks.
Of course, there’s still Barty, but he’s different. Because while Regulus is fine with Evan alone, he doesn’t think that he could be alone with Barty for long, because he’s complicated, he doesn’t like silence or reading or observing, and in comparison, to Evan he doesn’t like talking, he loves being listened to.
So, Regulus isn’t often alone with him. It’s that easy and it’s not like he doesn’t like Barty, he’s an asshole and rude and insensitive, but he’s fun and he’s the only person Regulus knows that would probably not care if he murdered someone.
Evan would hide the body with him, sure, but he’d care and ask him what the fuck or something, but Barty simply wouldn’t bat an eyelash. Regulus is pretty sure that he has killed someone before. But it’s fine, because he wouldn’t kill him, and he was the first person that was proud of him for getting his Dark Mark.
At that he presses his hand on the mark, just to feel the way the ink burns under the touch. He’s not sure why it does that, doesn’t think that happens to anyone else with it, but his catches fires whenever he touches it.
At the beginning it was constantly aching and one night even bleeding, but over time it just started hurting under his touch and he had no idea why.
Sometimes he can feel the ink flowing through his body and replacing his blood, like the mark is changing him slowly, and on other days he forgets it’s even there and on the worst days he feels like his body is rejecting the mark and trying to get rid of it, those are the days he can’t dare to even look at it.
On one of those days usually he’ll reread the letter his cousins wrote him when they heard of him getting his mark, to remind him that he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be, that he made the correct decision, and that people are proud of him.
Fucking finally people are proud of him, of him Regulus Black.
The lesson is over, so they walk over to their next one, Potions, in silence and it is nice, normal, and exactly how he’d thought their first day back would go, but when no one is speaking his cheek begins to hurt again and he remembers the hand that had found it yesterday.
In a way Sirius slapping him had made him a stranger, someone he didn’t know, but on the other hand he was a real Black now more than ever.
Regulus hoped that Sirius knew that he couldn’t have acted more like a Black that he was reminded that no matter how hard he tried to run away from it, his blood with always belong to the Noble House of Black.
His behaviour was a mirror of Regulus’s, and his way of speaking had the same pattern as their mother and the way he slapped with force and beauty was something their father taught them.
Maybe it was just the Dark Mark, but he wanted to show him just how much of a Black he still was, he wouldn’t of course, but he wanted to.
He is ripped out his thoughts when a boy in a Gryffindor cloak and small glasses runs into him, causing him to stumble back and snap his head up, piercing grey eyes finding shy blue ones.
“Watch where you’re going”, Evan says with red anger shining through, he loves these things, loves making people pay for mistakes and he adores being feared, and normally he’d keep walking and Evan would follow him until he was calm too and the day could resume, but not today.
Today, Regulus is a Death Eater, his left arm hurts and he was slapped yesterday. Today he’ll show everyone who a Black is.
“Evan”, he turns to him with a smirk, “can you see me?”
If he’s surprised, he doesn’t let it show: “Why yes I can.”
“Then why can’t he do that? I mean he even has glasses?”, he pulls them off the skinny boy, and before he throws them on the ground, he winks at the terrified boy in front of him.
“Oh no, your glasses! Evan, his glasses!”, Evan laughs beside him, and they walk away.
Some rotten part of him understands Death Eaters now, he understands the thrill this brings them, the power that fills them whenever they pick on others. A part of him knows that this is his birth right, just as it was Sirius’s.
Sirius.
He can still remember a night when Sirius was bringing him foo, they were laying on the floor, heads just barely touching, and Sirius had explained to him that being mean protects you from getting hurt. He didn’t believe it, of course, and stayed the perfect son while his brother started talking back and carried the deeper scars with more pride than ever before.
And Regulus had admired him for it, what they didn’t know yet was that with every clean cut they moved further apart without ever meaning to.
But that wasn’t something to think about now.
No, right now he wanted to be a Black. A proper Black.
He grinned at Evan with a glint in his eyes and whispered: “That was fun, wasn’t it?”
And it was fun, because the pieces of glass in his shoes hurt more than his cheek and that was something worth chasing.
James
He was walking to their next class with Sirius, the others trailing behind a bit when he heard the loud laughter and immediately, he was filled with rage. Because he knew that kind of laughter, it is cold and always meant that someone was suffering.
He shares a look with Sirius before he’s marching into the small crowd, eyes falling on a boy who must have been in 5th year, trying to pick up the broken frame of what he guessed were glasses.
The boy is from Gryffindor, and he’s sure he had seen him before, Collin something. He had tried out as Seeker but failed miserably which resulted with him head first in a rose bush.
Collin notices him now and is looking up at him with big eyes and he doesn’t look a day older than 13, his eyes are shining, and he’s breathing heavily.
“Hey, hey, hey”, he starts with his best soothing voice, “you’re okay.”
James had dealt with a lot of people of these ‘attacks’ before and slowly kneels down beside him, helping him search for his glasses before trying to start a conversation.
He finds them rather quick and flicks his wand lazily before returning it to its owner: “Here you go, I’m James.”
James helps the boy up and when he notices that his eyes aren’t glistening anymore, he feels okay to continue: “Do you mind telling me what happened?”
He takes a quick look around and locks eyes with Sirius who is standing a few meters away, observing the two of them before refocusing on the boy in front of him.
“I ran into…”, he trails off, looking around quickly as if to make sure that the person wasn’t there anymore, and God, did he want to kill them, he wouldn’t, but they deserved to.
“Regulus”, he takes a deep breath, “Regulus Black.”
It shouldn’t surprise him, it really shouldn’t and a few days ago it wouldn’t have. He would have thought that it made sense, but now all he can do is keep the confusion of his face as he gives the boy a final pat on the back and returns to his friend.
“What happened?”, Sirius asks as soon as he reaches him.
“Just another Slytherin bully, you know how he goes”, he lies, and Sirius believes him, because why wouldn’t he?
“Got his name?”, he asks grimly.
“No, wouldn’t say”, he mutters, but his mind is somewhere else.
His mind is focused on Regulus, how he had been so fragile and cried over being slapped, but then went on to bully someone younger than him just because he ran into him. It didn’t make any sense.
That should have been further proof that James shouldn’t talk to him, but instead it made him more curios and he swore to talk to him as soon as possible.
Regulus
It’s lunch break when he gets the chance to belong to the Noble House of Black again.
It’s stupid really, a slimy little boy sitting at his seat, but it’s something and that’s more than enough.
He shoves him away from the table and when he tumbles and falls to the ground while searching for a new seat then that’s nothing he can change. Evan slaps his shoulder and giggles while sitting down next to him.
“Oh Reg, are you finally growing up?”, he laughs, helping himself to some mashed potatoes.
“I guess”, he replies, starring at the place where they boy had lain seconds before.
He doesn’t feel like eating, so he doesn’t, another great thing about his friendship with Evan: He does not give a single fuck about your health.
That’s another thing they have in common.
“What do I hear about the saint Regulus finally acknowledging his power?”, Barty sits down in front of him, and his voice sounds exactly like he had thought it would sound.
He looks up to meet his gaze, but instead he looks eyes with James Potter who’s starring at him with furrowed eyebrows, it reminds him of that morning when they had done the same thing, but this time he doesn’t find the strength to look away, he takes his time to take him in with his curled brown locks and round glasses.
Gryffindor’s Golden boy.
And it’s not that he doesn’t understand why he’s known as that, because he can’t lie to himself, James is glowing so strongly that Regulus is sure if he squinted James would be surrounded by golden light and while that couldn’t be a normal thing to think, there was no way that other people don’t see and feel it as well.
He despises it. And him.
Regulus finally breaks the eye contact and shifts his focus on Barty, he isn’t sure what he should say, luckily Evan answers for him: “You’re only hearing the truth, Reg here is finally finding his inner rage.” He claps him on the back while talking as if he’s, their accomplishment.
And he almost wants to snort at his words, because, God, couldn’t they be more wrong. Regulus has found his inner rage or what they want to call it, years ago, but till now he’s tried to keep it behind closed doors, listen to the words of his mother when she said:
“Rage is a fine thing, but once you use it too much, people won’t run away anymore, and you want them to run, don’t you?”
Or maybe he had just a been a coward and used her words as an excuse, maybe he had hidden behind the lesson that was marked on him through a burning slap on his cheek.
But not anymore. Because, Regulus thinks, if you’re terrifying enough, you can’t use it too much.
“Really?”, Barty is smirking like he already has a plan, “and how far is that ‘inner rage’ willing to go?”
And that is the reason that he’s friends with him, because he doesn’t ask why or how, he sees an opportunity and if that brings Regulus that thrilling feeling of power than he can’t help but love being nothing but an opportunity.
“How far were you thinking? Because I had an idea.”
James
Regulus is an enigma. That’s all he’s been thinking for the last hour, and he hates it, because he shouldn’t be thinking about him at all, he should be wondering how he can talk to him to help Sirius, his best friend who he wants to help.
But he can’t change it, he’s wondering about him, trying to make sense of how he was sobbing in the bathroom yesterday and is now Slytherin’s favourite bully the next day and that’s all he’s thinking about. Nothing else.
Not his eyes meeting his twice now, and the weird sensation he feels every time. He doesn’t think about that, doesn’t think about how he could have sworn his breath hitched a bit and how…
“James?!”, he snaps out of his thoughts, Remus is looking at him with raised eyebrows, “lessons are over, come on.”
They start walking toward the Gryffindor tower and this time James doesn’t let his thoughts wander, he stays right here in the moment: “Sorry, I’m just a bit tired, you know sleeping on the floor and everything.”
The joke is bad, but Remus still chuckles: “Yeah”, he hesitates, “Do you think Sirius is fine?”
Does he think that Sirius is fine? A part of him knows he isn’t that he must feel like he’s responsible for Regulus, but something about the way he had acted this morning made him believe that he had been getting ready for this moment for the last few years. That didn’t mean that he was fine with it, a voice tells him.
“No”, he finally answers honestly, and he hears a sharp intake from beside him.
“I thinks so too”; he says after a moment, “I mean he can’t even say his name.”
He doesn’t add that Sirius has never been able to, and nods instead: “But he has us to help him with it.”
“He’s still not okay”, Remus tries once more and he knows why, he worries, of course he does, they all do, but James has a plan, and one that has to work no more than ever.
“But he will be.”
They get quiet again, both not done, but also not ready to keep talking, they stay silent all the way to the common room where Sirius is playing chess with Peter, while Lily’s nose is already buried in a book.
Peter notices them first and glances up, waving lazily before moving a pawn and a grin spreads on his face: “And that’s checkmate for you, Padfoot.”
But Sirius doesn’t listen, he’s staring at them, no, James realize, he’s looking directly at Remus, with a bizarre look on his face, before snapping out of it and groaning: “Why did I agree to this?”
He waves them over and they sit down next to a smug looking Peter: “Anyone else want to try? I haven’t played you for months.”
“You mean you haven’t defeated us without giving us as much as a chance for months”, James correct and he loves that Peter beams at his words, because when he can’t do anything right, he still knows what Peter wants.
“What’s Lily doing?”, Remus asks, but he isn’t watching her, his eyes are on black hair, sharp lines, and full lips.
“Apparently Snape was, and I quote ‘too good in Potions today’, so now she’s working on changing that”, Sirius explains, but he isn’t watching her either.
He can’t really blame her, if he had to be in the same group as the Slytherins and worst of all Snape. They were in the same lesson last year or they were in the same class for a week before the Marauders were moved to another one, with the promise of detention for the rest of the year, because of ‘misbehaving’.
Of course, it really should have been Snape and not them, but the teacher was too fond of the smart boy that he’d probably let him get away with killing them in front of his eyes.
“Makes sense”, he mutters.
It’s quiet between them then for a moment until Mary and Marlene run in and all of their heads snap up.
Oh oh, is all he can think, because Mary looks angry, not just the teacher failed me angry, but I’m going to start killing angry, and he really doesn’t want to but his gaze shifts to Marlene who makes Mary look tame.
Even Lily is staring at the two of them, and of course is the first one to speak: “What happened?”
Not “is something wrong?” or “everything alright?”, no, because even a dead person would be able to see that something is very wrong and not everything’s alright.
But James would have asked it instead anyways because he’s stupid and is scared of being overbearing, by assuming, which is why he didn’t ask anything, a part of him even wondered if he should just continue with his day like nothing happened, because he’s just that much of a coward.
A fucking coward.
And then something horrible happens, Marlene looks at Sirius, she looks at Sirius with worry and James’s blood runs cold, he knows then, he knows what happened, knows that Regulus happened. He knows it and he hates that he knows it, but he does.
He looks at Sirius as well and he’s sure he suspects something too, but he tries to hide it by raising his eyebrows, but his lips are a thin line and there is one dimple in his chin that he never gets unless he’s worried.
“It’s Evan”, she pauses for a second as if to wait if anyone is going to do it for her and tell the tale of what happened, that doesn’t happen of course, so she continues with her gaze anywhere but Sirius, “and Regulus, they set fire to the toilets that are closest to Muggle Studies.”
Beside him someone gasps and if he wouldn’t have forced it shut the moment she said his name, he’s sure his mouth would have been wide open. Regulus destroyed a bathroom, and he imagines how he must have smiled while doing it and how there must have been people patting his back while his face is painted by red flames.
And then he realizes that he isn’t imagining Regulus setting the fire at all, he can only see Sirius and his grin and his fingers around his wand and his voice speaking the words of the spell.
It’s just because they look familiar, because they’re family, that’s why, but he knows that the eyes weren’t grey like Regulus’s are and he has no idea how he knows his eyes are grey, he shouldn’t know, he really fucking shouldn’t, but he does and he’s surer about it than he’s ever been about anything else.
Regulus Black’s eyes are grey.
“Did anyone get hurt?”, Lily asks, and he wants to close his eyes, block out the answer and pretend it didn’t matter if someone did.
But he doesn’t close his eyes, because there’s no reason to, he doesn’t know Regulus, doesn’t know what his humour is like and how he breathes in the night, if he sleep or stays awake like him, he only knows how he cries and how beautifully he breaks.
His eyes are open, so he sees Mary nod.
“How many?”, Peter asks with a hoarse voice, and it becomes clearer than ever that they are not cut out for this, that they are not supposed to worry about these kind of things, that while they try their best to act as if they are ready for war and the victims it will bring, they are not ready. Not even close actually.
“They don’t know”, all the rage is gone, the adrenaline is used and the fire it fed is drizzled out.
“Did anyone…?”, Remus doesn’t finish, but they all knew what he’s asking, did Sirius’s little brother kill someone.
“They don’t know yet, the fire’s not out. The magic is strong, and Dumbledore isn’t here”, Marlene almost whispers.
“But what about the other teachers, I mean, aren’t they strong enough?”, his voice is broken cobblestone.
There’s no response, but they all know what that means.
Regulus Black, a Death Eater and his best friend’s brother, has conjured something more powerful than the teachers at one of the best wizarding schools in the world.
And while Marlene said that Evan was there too, no one doubts that it was the doing of a wizard with the powerful blood of the Black’s.
James makes the mistake of looking at Sirius, his face is scrunched up like he’s remembering something, something he doesn’t dare to speak a loud, he blinks fast and often, before meeting James’s eyes and suddenly he can feel the weight of Sirius’s guilt on his shoulders.
A guilt that he can’t explain yet, but when he looks at the fire in Sirius’s eyes, he knows he’ll find out soon and he hates his brain and his thoughts for going there but for a second, he wonders if Regulus’s eyes looked the same when he lit the bathroom on fire, and he’s reminded once again that the Black brothers share the same blood, the same upbringing, the same mother, and the same magic.
Regulus
Fire is warm. Fire is pain and euphoria. Fire is powerful.
Actually, scratch that fire makes him powerful. Him, Regulus Black.
He can still remember his scratchy voice whispering the words his closest friend had once told him and he can still feel the heat of the flames warming his glass like skin and it’s all so beautiful.
Because the teachers will not be able to put it out unless Dumbledore is here and he is not, so it will take time, and it will deepen the message the fire burns in the skin of all wizards and witches at Hogwarts. And the scars people will carry from this were his to give and his to soften, but he did not.
He let the fire choose how strong the mark should be while he never gave away control, he gave away the decisions that he used to give his brother.
Now, he’s standing in a crowd of people who are staring into the flames with tear filled eyes and he has the power to stop it, it feels surreal, maybe it is, but since he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference anyway, he enjoys how for once his mark on his arm doesn’t hurt or itch or turns his blood black, because right now he’s more rotten and more of a Black than the Dark Mark could ever make him.
He saw two of his brother’s friends watch the flame licking at the walls in the bathroom, he’s sure that by now Sirius knows and he must remember when he taught him the spell.
He can imagine how he must feel guilt eating away at him or maybe there’s no guilt after all and he truly is a Black like their mother intended to.
He doesn’t care where his friends are, they do not matter right now, because they didn’t think of the spell, they didn’t cast it, they will not suffer from the consequences, and they aren’t standing in a crowd of terrified people soaking up the little power each of them owns.
And he understands why people want to be bad and evil, because it truly is easy to be cruel when it stops the pain in your arm and the bruise on your cheek fades away whenever you taste dark victory.
“Everyone make room”, Professor McGonagall’s firm voice shuts the whispers of the students around him up. “Every student is to go into their Houses at once.”
He turns around, Dumbledore is behind her walking a bit wobbly, and he swears that he sees him stumble, but before he can look at the old man closer, the people around him are moving and he has to follow their movements to blend in and retreat to his dorm room safely.
“Now!”, the intimidating thing about McGonagall was that she never screamed, Regulus didn’t even remember hearing her raise her voice louder than necessary, all she needed was the tone of her voice to make someone feel sorry for what he did, it was a skill that many would like to have, he guesses.
He lets the swarm of people pull him out the corridor in the bigger corridors and intends to follow a few 4th year Slytherin’s to the entrance, but before he can descend down the stairs, he sees long black hair slip through different door and he knows that special shine they have and promptly follows, the firm words of the professor having done little.
There he is, his brother with his back to him, he stops a few feet apart from him and waits for something, he’s not sure what, maybe some acknowledgement or rage, but he doesn’t care, he keeps waiting.
He doesn’t like how much power Sirius has, because it’s his back turned and Regulus who’s waiting for his next move, maybe if this scene would be painted it would seem like he was in control, like he could curse him, because his back is turned, ready to be stabbed, but that would be a lie.
Maybe people would remember this as him being in control and having the power. Hopefully.
“You used my spell”, Sirius starts, and it isn’t an accusation, but more than an observation.
“I would not call it your spell”, he tries to keep his voice as cool as his, but even he can hear that he’s failing.
“You did call it my spell. Don’t you remember?”, he does remember.
He remembers his amazed features and breathless voice, calling the for them simple spell magnificent and his.
Sirius is not done yet: “Or has the Dark Mark ruined your brain so much that you can’t even remember your childhood?”.
He finally turns around and there’s a faint smile on his lips that makes him seem so much more dangerous than if he would be burning with rage. He isn’t blinking which means he isn’t masking it either.
“It has not ruined me”, is all he knows to say.
“I could have guessed that you would say that, but honestly we both know that’s a lie”, he is so much more powerful, has so much more than he has.
His pride isn’t hurt, so he’s not scared for it and can carry it on his hands positioning it in front of his torso so that everyone can see it. Regulus does not have that option, for him it’s always been hide it, hide it, hide it until even he forgets he has it.
But they are Black’s so of course they have it.
“I don’t lie.”
“Sure”, he sorts, “not to others, but to yourself? All the fucking time. You’re lying to yourself that it’s normal that your mark hurts and stings for example.”
“How- How do you know that”, he wants to slap himself, because he can see the victory in his eyes when he stutters, it’s clear now that he has all power even with his back not turned anymore.
“Sometimes I want to pity you, I mean, the Dark Mark rejecting you must feel horrible”, he doesn’t reply, there’s no point, there’s only one option: Take back the power he stole from you.
“You know what surprises me?”, he starts and feels a surge of adrenaline flow through him when he doesn’t interrupt him, “That you’re not filled with guilt.”
“Why would I feel guilty?”, he’s confident, too confident the backside of showing your pride to everyone.
“It’s your spell that harmed those students in the washing rooms.”
His face doesn’t fall, but he didn’t expect that, Sirius isn’t that easy to break.
“And without you showing it to me, I wouldn’t have known about it, that much I can promise”, he takes a step toward him, “I would not have searched for a spell that only assigned anchors can extinguish.”
His ears twitch and he knows that he has gotten something over him. It feels good to know someone tells.
“But there you were without guilt just a few seconds ago, and don’t tell me you didn’t think about that, we’re both too smart to believe that”, it feels nice to see him uncomfortable and it feels like being stabbed at the same time, but he does not have time to dwell on that right now.
He does not have time to notice how his hair is less shiny than it was seconds ago and how his shoulders seem to be carrying a lot more than just his head. He doesn’t let his mind notice these things, so he can keep his focus on getting revenge for the words he was hurt with before.
“You know what that proves once more?”, he pauses just for the dramatics, because right now he’s pulling the strings, “You’re still a Black through and through, no matter how much you try and pretend that the Potters are your new family, the blood flowing through your veins is flowing through mine and it’s filled with evil.”
Sirius looks angry and he can see his eyes darkening, he almost wants to point it out, but the daggers his gaze litters him in keeps him quiet, because he’s still his bigger brother, still the one that used to take his beatings and comfort him when no one else was around to do it.
For a moment he braces himself for another slap, but it never comes, and they are standing in opposite of each other, caught in the webs of a stalemate.
James
Sirius has barricaded himself in their room, letting no one in expect Remus and refusing to talk too James or Peter not even during the wall.
“Sorry Prongs”, Remus says before shutting the door again and leaving him alone.
He feels useless. Peter has long since given up, but he’s supposed to be good at this, he’s supposed to be able to help his best friend, but even he has realized that he can’t, at least not in the same way that Moony can.
James doesn’t want to go back down to the others and shake his head once more before sitting down next to Peter and doing absolutely nothing, he slides against the wall next to the door of their dorm and hears a paper wrinkling in a back pocket of his rope.
It’s his pride and joy, the Marauder’s Map. Their pride and joy really, he opens it with a whisper and observes the name tags moving.
Everyone is where they’re supposed to be, the corridors are empty and most of the students are in their dorms with their friends probably chatting about the fire and who might have caused it, the teachers aren’t patrolling, all of them are in Dumbledore’s office, he wonders how chaotic that might be and if it was any other day, he’d show it to Sirius and they’d have a good laugh about with imitating the teachers and what they might say.
Remus’s and Sirius’s name tags are almost on top of each other, maybe Remus is hugging him while comforting him with soothing words, he thinks, but it feels strangely invading to even watch their pins and so instead his eyes wander around the map until the fall on a name tag standing lonely in a corridor.
Regulus Black.
He’s not too far away from the Snake’s Nest (how the Marauders have named it), but it, like everything about him, confuses James, because why is he not celebrating with his friends and finally he knows what he can do.
He’ll talk to the arsonist.