Mortal Once More

June, 1981 - Potter Manor 

For one endless moment, as Regulus stares at Sirius and his older brother stares back at him, the entire world seems to freeze. Regulus is no longer aware of what anybody else in the room is saying or doing. His ears seem to have filled with a strange, slow buzzing sound as Sirius looks at him, pale as a sheet, and suddenly there is nobody else in the world but the two of them. 

Just the sight of his brother seems to send wave upon wave of memories crashing in on Regulus - all of the memories that he always tries so desperately to ignore, coming upon him all at once. 

Sirius, eight years old, using magic to draw ridiculous smiley faces on the elf heads in the hallway just to make him laugh, even though he knows he’ll get into trouble for it later.

Sirius, ten years old, immediately offering him the cosy blanket they’d made together when Regulus comes tiptoeing into his room in the middle of the night, shaky and teary-eyed after a nightmare. Sirius making him forget his fears in laughter, the two of them fantasising together about life at Hogwarts, finally escaping from the gloomy hallways of Grimmauld Place and their parents constantly breathing down their necks. 

Sirius, eleven years old, practically bouncing with excitement knowing he’ll finally be leaving for Hogwarts in only a few hours, but still catching Regulus’s anxious look and immediately wrapping him up in one of his ridiculous bear hugs, whispering, I’ll be back at Christmas, Reggie. And it won’t be long before you’ll be there too! We’ll hang out in the common room, we can go exploring all over the castle together!

Sirius, only a few months later, standing up furiously at the Blacks’ Christmas dinner, after their parents and various extended family members have spent the evening lecturing him on the need to stay away from blood traitors and half-breeds. I’d rather be a blood traitor than a member of this family, Sirius exclaims, before turning to Regulus expectantly, as though expecting him to stand up and back him up. But Regulus stays silent under the weight of his mother’s furious gaze, his stomach falling through the floor at the thought that his brother doesn’t want to be associated with this family - doesn’t want to be associated with him. Hurt and anger flickering across Sirius’s face, before he storms out of the room. He Floos back to Hogsmeade minutes later; Regulus doesn’t hear a word from him for months. 

Regulus, eleven years old, feeling a peculiar combination of pride, relief and guilt as the Sorting Hat had shouts Slytherin ! Glancing across at the Gryffindor table and meeting Sirius’s eyes, catching for a split second that awful look of regret and disappointment and longing on his brother’s face; Regulus gives him a tiny, helpless shrug, and Sirius’s face immediately hardens. Regulus feels a peculiar sense of loss and loneliness as his brother turns his back on him, his forced laughter echoing across the Great Hall a moment later. 

Regulus, fifteen years old, back home for their Christmas break, hearing Sirius and his parents yelling at each other behind the closed door of his father’s study, his blood turning to ice as he hears Sirius’s yells suddenly turn to agonised screams. He can’t bear to hear it, can’t bear to go in there, but he sends a panicked letter to James Potter: He’s in trouble. Please send help. Regulus shrinks back into the shadows as his brother’s screams fade and their parents emerge, faces like thunder, silently locking the drawing room door behind them. As soon as they’re out of earshot, Regulus hurries in, terrified to find his boisterous, unstoppable brother lying on the floor in front of the fireplace, paler than he’s ever seen him, stirring only very feebly. 

I’ll get you to the Potters, Regulus says shakily, throwing some Floo powder into the grate so the flames roar and turn emerald, turning to Sirius to help him up. 

Reg…come with me, Sirius croaks suddenly, clutching onto his robes, looking at him with more desperation than he’s ever seen on his face. 

What? Regulus gasps, staring at him. 

Come with me , Sirius repeats, with even more urgency. You don't want to stay here.

Regulus looks at him, gloriously tempted for a split second, before realising - where else would he go? He’s still in Slytherin, he can hardly pretend to be a Gryffindor when he gets back to Hogwarts. Sirius’s friends don’t like or trust him, and he’s too bitterly envious of them for taking his brother to like them much either. And where could he go, when he inevitably failed to break free? Back to his parents? And what might they do to him, knowing he’d tried to follow Sirius, tried to be brave and rebellious, only to return with his tail between his legs? Kreacher’s fondness would hardly be enough to protect him. 

Sirius , he whispers, I can’t. You know I can’t. I can’t take that risk, I can’t ruin everything, I can’t be like…

Like me . Sirius finishes the sentence for him, his voice flat and hard. 

Regulus stares at him miserably, not knowing what to say, how to fix this. 

Fine , Sirius says, his expression cold and haughty, the way it always is when he wants to hurt someone. Enjoy being the heir to the Noble House of Black, Reggie. I imagine you’ve been waiting for it long enough. 

And his brother hoists himself up on legs that are still shaking, steps into the emerald green flames, and vanishes to the Potters’ house. To his new brother. 

Regulus, studying alone by the lake at Hogwarts, catching sight of Sirius sitting with his three friends under their favourite beech tree, the four of them murmuring quietly to each other. He gets up hesitantly to approach his brother. That shuttered, cold look darkens Sirius’s face again the moment he sees Regulus standing there.

What do you want, Reggie? He asks in a bored, drawling voice. 

I…I wanted to see you , Regulus replies nervously.

Sirius lets out a scathing bark of laughter. 

I did! Regulus insists, jutting his chin out defiantly, wishing that for once in their lives Potter and the others would just fuck off and let him talk to his brother in peace. I wanted to talk to you, I wanted to see how you were!

Oh really , Sirius replies, his voice positively dripping with sarcasm. And since when do you care about that?

What? Regulus asks, bewildered. Of course I care, Sirius - you’re my brother!

Sirius stares at him, and something flickers momentarily across his face, something Regulus can’t quite read, before the cold, haughty mask is fixed back in place. 

But I’m not, am I, Regulus? he says quietly. Not any more. You made that quite clear. 

Regulus feels as though Sirius has punched all the wind out of him. That probably would have hurt less. He blinks back the embarrassing tears pricking at the back of his eyes. If Sirius is going to hurt him like this, then Regulus will hurt him right back. He doesn’t need him. 

Fine, he sneers, drawing himself up to his full height - there’s barely an inch between him and his brother - and mirroring Sirius’s haughty glare. Why don’t you just piss off back to your blood traitor friends, then? 

Sirius moves towards his wand furiously, and Regulus hastily draws his own, the blood pounding in his veins. 

Protego! Potter yells, causing a giant transparent shield to erupt between them, Regulus on one side, Sirius and his friends on the other. Regulus and Sirius are both breathing hard, glaring at each other. 

Regulus - go , says Potter. He and Lupin are both clutching Sirius firmly at the shoulders, as though worried he’ll still charge at his brother despite the magical barrier. Please…just go. 

Gladly, Regulus sneers, jutting out his chin defiantly, realising as he does so that he probably looks just the same as Sirius. 

He turns on his heel and storms away, leaving his stupid brother behind. Something seems to fall through him as he leaves, a loss that makes him feel hollow and empty. 

Now, as Regulus stares at Sirius standing on the other side of the small living room, he wonders if his brother, too, is feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the deluge of memories. He scarcely needs to wonder if Sirius will welcome him - the furious shouting from the other room moments ago doesn’t leave much room for doubt. 

He himself has always been taught to be careful and guarded with his emotions, but Sirius had never been able to capture ‘the kind of dignity befitting the heir of the House of Black’, as their mother would say, because he had always been a completely open book that anyone could read. Regulus can see his brother’s face darkening now, the shock at seeing him giving way quickly to fury, mingled with that expression of disappointment and hurt that he’s always seemed to wear when he looks at Regulus, ever since Regulus was eleven and had had the audacity to be sorted into Slytherin like their parents wanted. 

But still, Sirius hasn’t said anything. Regulus notices his hands slowly balling into fists at his sides, and finds himself wishing his brother would just say something, throw a hex, punch him - just something to break the thick, choking tension that seems to be stretched taut across the small room. 

Regulus notices dimly that everyone else seems to have fallen quiet, too - that is, until the small boy on Lily Potter’s lap begins to wail loudly, apparently distressed by the strange atmosphere. Regulus can’t help but wince a little - a crying child is hardly likely to make him feel any more comfortable.

Lily throws Sirius an irritated, reproachful look as her son’s screams grow louder. Sirius doesn’t look at her - but the child’s wailing does finally make him look away from Regulus. 

He’s still very pale, and the anger and hurt hasn’t quite faded from his face - but he turns to the little boy and opens his arms.

“Come here, Harry,” he murmurs, his voice softer, gentler and more apologetic than Regulus has ever heard it. To his shock, the toddler - Harry, apparently - reaches towards Sirius eagerly, his tears seeming to subside immediately. Sirius takes a deep breath, looking down at the little boy with a small grin - he seems a bit calmer, with the child in his arms. 

Regulus can’t help but stare, feeling bewildered. Of all the things that his brother is a natural with - Transfiguration and Charms, as well as basically every other subject taught at Hogwarts, making friends wherever he goes, getting himself into ridiculous situations and still somehow bluffing his way out of trouble, being a general thorn in their parents’ sides at all times - he would never have thought that children could be added to that list. 

“God, lot of miserable sods in here, aren’t there?” says a deep voice in Regulus’s ear, breaking into his thoughts  - an unfamiliar voice, cheeky and amused. 

Regulus jumps slightly; he’d been so lost in thought as he stared at his brother, he hadn’t realised that someone had stood up to stand next to him. He turns around.

The speaker, it transpires, is a tall, broad man with a mop of red curls, so many freckles he almost seems tanned, and blue eyes that are somehow bright with laughter and mischief at this moment, despite the palpable tension in the room.

He looks vaguely familiar, although at this moment Regulus can’t quite place him. As the man grins at him, he feels his stomach do a strange little flip. 

Still taken aback by this peculiar sensation - and by the fact that anybody here is speaking to him in a friendly way at all - Regulus blinks at the tall redheaded man mutely as he holds out his hand. He might have assumed this man was somehow oblivious to the swirling tension in the room - were it not for the fact that his grin visibly broadened as almost everyone else stared at him in shock, as though he was willingly holding his hand out towards a venomous snake. 

“Fabian Prewett,” the man introduces himself with a dramatic flourish, “at your service. Oh, and this is my slightly less handsome brother, Gideon,” he adds, his grin widening as another tall redheaded man, standing slightly behind him, elbows him. 

Regulus does a slight double take; in all honesty, he had been so busy staring at Fabian Prewett that he’d barely even noticed the man next to him, until Fabian had pointed him out. Now that he looks at Gideon, though, he sees that the two men look so alike, they must be twins. It’s still relatively easy to distinguish between them, though - Gideon Prewett is rather lankier than his brother, less freckly, and, though his eyes are a similar shade of blue, they don’t seem quite as bright with laughter as Fabian’s. He, too, smiles at Regulus in a friendly way as he holds his hand out, although his smile isn’t quite as easy as his brother’s - Regulus can still see a hint of awkwardness there, which tells him that their approach had certainly been Fabian’s idea. 

He remembers, then, why the pair look vaguely familiar - these are the infamous Prewett twins. 

He hadn’t ever really interacted with them at Hogwarts, as they’d been in Gryffindor and about three years ahead of him - he doesn’t think he’s ever even spoken to either of them before now - but they had been renowned around the school as their house’s infamous troublemakers-in-chief, at least until Sirius and his friends had taken that particular title for themselves. Regulus remembers now that the twins had once been almost as boisterous and obnoxiously loud in the Great Hall as his brother and the others. 

But he supposes, if there are only two people in this room who are willing to speak to him without glaring or staring or trying to throw a hex his way, he can hardly afford to be all that picky.

“Oh, uh…Regulus Black,” he introduces himself awkwardly, shaking each of their hands in turn. 

“Oh, I think we all know who you are already, mate,” says Gideon, his own grin growing more mischievous now. Fabian attempts to stifle a snigger.

“We were all briefed before you got here,” Fabian explains. “As you probably heard.” 

Regulus feels himself flush. He tries his best not to jut his chin out defiantly, as he usually does when he doesn’t want anyone to know that he’s feeling small and awkward and vulnerable. 

Fabian, meanwhile, shoots a pointed look at Sirius. Regulus sees his brother, still holding baby Harry on his lap, stiffen and glare defiantly right back at him.

Sirius has sat himself next to Remus Lupin, who reaches over to place a soothing hand on Sirius’s thigh, evidently meant as a gesture of reassurance - but Sirius flinches away from his touch sharply.

“I’m fine , Moony,” he mutters.

Regulus catches the fleeting look of hurt on Lupin’s face, before he forces himself to assume a neutral expression, clearly trying to pretend that Sirius’s words don’t affect him. 

What’s that about? Regulus wonders. Potter clears his throat.

“Where’s Wormy, anyway?” he pipes up in a would-be-casual voice - evidently, he too had noticed Lupin’s hurt expression and is, in typical clumsy but well-meaning fashion, trying to change the subject to something lighter. 

“He said he couldn’t make it tonight,” Sirius replies grumpily, still glaring across at Fabian, refusing to look at either Regulus or Lupin. “Something about working late, I think?” 

He gives a small shrug, as though ‘Wormy’s’ presence or absence at the meeting - Regulus assumes they’re talking about Pettigrew, who for some strange reason they’d taken to calling ‘Wormtail’ at school - makes little difference to him. 

“Perhaps we ought to actually get the meeting started?” another familiar voice chimes in, pointedly. 

Amidst the tumult of emotions upon seeing Sirius again, Regulus hadn’t even noticed Dumbledore himself walking into the living room. He looks a little weary already, rubbing a hand across his temple as he settles himself into a large and cushy chintz armchair directly opposite the fireplace, a position where everyone else in the room can see him easily. Regulus can tell the spot was deliberately left empty for him.

Everybody turns towards the headmaster expectantly, although the tension in the room certainly doesn’t dissipate entirely; Regulus can see that his brother still looks more than a little disgruntled, while Lupin is looking very determinedly at Dumbledore and Potter keeps shooting nervous glances over at the pair of them. 

For his part, Regulus is hovering awkwardly, unsure if there’s any predetermined seating arrangement at these things. 

“C’mon, Black Junior,” says Fabian, shooting him another grin and causing Regulus to wonder whether this man ever stops smiling. “Why don’t you come sit here with me and Gid? Plenty of room.” 

He’s not hugely fond of being given a nickname that includes the word ‘junior’, but he reminds himself that he’s going to have to pick his battles at the moment. Nodding and attempting a polite smile - although it might just look like he’s clenching his jaw - he sinks hesitantly down into the seat that Fabian is indicating. 

He can see, out of the corner of his eye, Sirius glowering in their direction; he feels a strange mingled sense of anger, hurt and shame that his brother has refused to even say a word to him so far, as well as satisfaction at the knowledge that he’s successfully pissed Sirius off by accepting Fabian’s friendly overtures. 

See? I don’t need you, he thinks petulantly, childishly. 

“An official introduction hardly seems necessary at this point,” says Dumbledore, with a small sigh, “but nevertheless, it would seem remiss if I did not give you one. Our newcomer is Regulus Black. Some of us may know him…ah, better than others.” The corner of the old man’s mouth twitches slightly, as both Black brothers glare at him stonily. “As I mentioned before, it is my hope ,” Dumbledore continues pointedly, “that you will all give Regulus at least a civil welcome, if you cannot manage a warm one - although I commend some of you for making that extra effort already,” he adds, nodding at the Prewett twins with a small smile. 

“I am aware that Regulus comes from a rather different background to most of us here” - Regulus flushes, jutting his chin out defiantly before he can stop himself, while Sirius makes a scornful noise without deigning to look at him - “but nevertheless,” Dumbledore continues, slightly louder now, ignoring Sirius’s interjection, “he has chosen to join us here, at great personal risk.” Regulus grimaces; chosen is a rather strong word to use in this context, which Dumbledore knows perfectly well. “Lord Voldemort has no idea that he has changed his allegiance to us - which is, I need hardly remind you all, a great advantage for the Order. I should add that Regulus has already given me some extremely valuable information, which can be used against Voldemort.” 

“And what information might that be?” Sirius barks. He’s looking at Dumbledore, still refusing to look Regulus in the eye - but Regulus can tell from his brother’s incredulous, challenging expression that he doesn’t believe a word of it. 

“I would prefer not to discuss that just yet,” Dumbledore replies slowly, casting Sirius a strangely appraising look. “Perhaps at the next meeting.” 

Sirius blinks, apparently taken aback by this dismissal. But a moment later his expression of surprise is eclipsed by another challenging, haughty look as he raises his chin defiantly, and Regulus knows his brother is readying to go on the attack again. 

“Well then, what exactly are we supposed to be discussing at this meeting?” he asks pointedly. “Please, enlighten us.” 

Regulus thinks he hears Lupin release a small, exasperated sigh. At the same time, he can’t help but fight back a smirk - at least there’s someone else in here who isn’t afraid to speak to Dumbledore the way he deserves to be spoken to.

Dumbledore raises his eyebrows a little at Sirius’s impertinent tone, but he nods.

“Very well, Sirius, I shall get to the main point. But I must warn you, the other announcement I have to make is rather less happy news. ” 

He gives a sigh of his own, looking suddenly very grave, and Regulus feels his stomach twist in apprehension. The tension in the room tautens further, which he would not have thought possible until that moment. 

“It has come to my attention, rather recently,” Dumbledore continues steadily, “that there are three amongst us - or, to be more accurate, there is one amongst us - that Lord Voldemort is currently particularly fixated on.” Everyone stares at him, horror on their faces - it feels as though the whole room is holding its collective breath. “You see, there was a prophecy that was made to me recently,” Dumbledore continues heavily. “A prophecy concerning a boy born to parents in the Order. More specifically, the prophecy spoke of a boy born at the very end of July last year, born to parents in the Order, born to parents who have already defied Voldemort three times.”

“ Oh my god,” Lily mutters, at precisely the same moment as a small, mousy-looking blonde woman in the corner - whose name Regulus can’t quite recall - breathes exactly the same words. 

“Not Neville?” the mousy blonde woman asks, staring at Dumbledore in horror as she clutches tightly at the hand of the tall, dark-haired man next to her - her husband, Regulus assumes. 

“Not Harry? ” the Potters demand simultaneously. Sirius clutches convulsively at the tiny boy still sitting on his lap. 

“The prophecy may well have been referring to either of them,” Dumbledore replies calmly. “Of course, that does not mean the prophecy contains truth, or that it has to come to pass - there are hundreds of unfulfilled prophecies gathering dust in the Department of Mysteries as we speak. But I am sorry to say that it does not much matter whether or not the prophecy contains any truth, because the fact is that Voldemort has heard it - or part of it, at least - and he believes it to be true. The prophecy predicts that this boy, born at the end of July to parents in the Order - whoever he may be - will one day grow up to ‘vanquish the Dark Lord.’ And…I am sorry, James, Lily,” he says, turning to the Potters with an expression more grave than ever. “I am so very sorry. But I have it on good authority that Lord Voldemort firmly believes the prophecy is warning him against none other than little Harry here.” He nods to the tiny boy in Sirius’s arms. 

All the colour drains from both Lily and James’s faces, even as little Harry himself continues happily tugging at Sirius’s leather jacket, entirely oblivious to this news that has just changed the entire course of his future. Regulus finds himself, like everyone else in the room, staring in shock at the small, unassuming boy in his little Snitch-covered onesie. 

How could this little child possibly have the power to defeat the Dark Lord, to finally end his reign of terror, when so many of the Ministry’s most experienced Aurors have tried and failed, when not even Dumbledore himself has ever managed it? It doesn’t seem possible. Or does this mean there isn’t any hope of ending this war until the child on Sirius’s lap is a man? Will they all have to wait fifteen, twenty years? Or will the Dark Lord get to the little boy long before that, before he even has the chance to live another full year?

Sirius stands up suddenly, still clutching the child tightly, his face pale with fear and rage, even as little Harry Potter giggles in his arms. 

“Who was it?” Sirius asks flatly.

“I’m sorry?” Dumbledore asks, looking at him in polite confusion. Or pretending to be confused, at least , Regulus thinks to himself. 

“ Who was it that bloody told Voldemort about the prophecy?” Sirius demands, his voice as sharp as a razor, as it always is when he gets immensely anxious. “ Who put my godson in danger?” 

Amongst all of the revelations of the evening, Regulus feels he barely has a spare inch of space left in his brain with which to marvel that his reckless older brother is apparently a godfather. 

Dumbledore hesitates, glancing over at Lily and James.

“As to that, Sirius, I am afraid I cannot tell you,” he replies gently. “The full story concerns someone who was once very close to the Potters - or to one of them, at least. I am sorry, but I would rather not cause Lily or James any more pain than I have had to cause them already. It is unnecessary. It will not help anyone to hear who told Lord Voldemort this. The fact is, he knows.” 

The Potters stare at Dumbledore, looking horror-struck, before turning to each other with bewildered expressions, evidently wondering who could have betrayed them so brutally. 

Regulus thinks he sees Sirius throw Lupin a strange look - a kind of cool, calculating frown - but a moment later, he’s walking over to stand at Potter’s side, with that ridiculously familiar look that tells Regulus he is going into his most stubborn ‘righteous hero’ mode. 

“I am sorry to say that Lord Voldemort will, by now, have come to the conclusion that Harry is, or at least will one day, be a threat to him,” Dumbledore says to Lily and James, in that same gentle tone, as though he can somehow make the news less terrible by delivering it kindly. “And because he has come to that conclusion, he is certain to make it his new objective - indeed, his new obsession - to hunt Harry down.” 

The two young parents stand up fiercely, furious. 

“Over my dead body,” Lily hisses, her voice full of a venomous quality that Regulus would never have considered her capable of. Potter nods mutely, looking too angry and worried to string two coherent words together. He reaches out to grasp his wife’s hand - Regulus gets the impression that he’s trying to comfort himself as much as her. 

“Well, yes, I did imagine you would say something along those lines,” Dumbledore replies wearily. “Ideally, however, it shall not come to that. I will do my best to protect you all, of course.” 

Regulus can’t help but frown to himself for a moment. For such an immensely powerful wizard, it’s strange that Dumbledore never seems to say ‘ I will protect you.’ Apparently, it’s always just ‘ I will do my best.’ 

“Unfortunately,” Dumbledore continues, “I think it may be necessary for all three of you to go into hiding.” 

James opens his mouth, evidently about to argue, but Lily elbows him gently. He looks down at her, his face full of mingled love and fear. He bites back his indignant response, with what looks like a great effort, and nods reluctantly. 

“I know that you always prefer to be in the thick of the action, James,” says Dumbledore gently. “Both of you do. I know that all three of you will find this very difficult, and I am sorry for that. But my priority is to keep the three of you safe. And I know that when you look at your wife and son, you will agree with me on that, at least.” 

James glances first at Lily, then at the tiny boy in Sirius’s arms, and Regulus can see that he’s terrified at the thought of either of them being in danger. Always the bloody hero, Potter. He remembers hearing Sirius teasing his best friend with those words all the time. 

“How…how long will we have to hide for?” Potter croaks out.

“I am afraid it is impossible for me to give you a solid answer to that question at this stage,” Dumbledore replies quietly. Of course it is . Regulus struggles to refrain from rolling his eyes. “What I can tell you for certain, though, is that I think you will be needing an extremely reliable Secret Keeper, to ensure that Voldemort will have absolutely no idea where your hiding place is. The Fidelius Charm ought to do the trick.” 

“I’m more than happy to -” Lupin starts up, but Sirius speaks over him, cutting him off abruptly. 

“No, I’ll do it,” he says fiercely, staring intently at Potter, without looking at Lupin. Anyone paying the slightest bit of attention to Lupin could see the shock and hurt that flickers across his face this time - but Sirius is paying attention to Potter instead. He raises one eyebrow silently. James looks back at him, his face still full of worry, and nods once. Regulus can’t help but feel a small prickle of envy - it’s not the first time he’s seen those two have a completely silent conversation. They’ve always seemed able to communicate wordlessly - on the same wavelength, in a private world for just the two of them, since they were eleven years old. 

“We can discuss the issue of the Secret Keeper later , Sirius,” says Dumbledore, breaking the silence, a note of warning in his voice. 

Sirius looks up at the headmaster furiously, already opening his mouth to argue, but Dumbledore holds up one hand, and he lapses into a seething, resentful silence, his jaw clenched. 

“For now, I think the main thing is to find the three of you a secure location,” Dumbledore continues, addressing the Potters directly again. “And I am pleased to say that I already have a place in mind, though for obvious reasons I shall not disclose it right at this moment.” Regulus feels a slight chill as the old man’s piercing blue gaze sweeps briefly across everyone in the room, before settling once again on James and Lily. “But I certainly hope you will find the place every bit as cosy and charming as your family home here. This is rather an urgent matter, of course, so if the two of you - and Harry, of course - will come to me at the end of the meeting, I think we can organise to have you moved in by the end of the day tomorrow.”

The two of them nod, still looking incredibly reluctant. Regulus watches his brother's face, anxious and pale. 

July, 1981 - One Week Later

Approaching his second Order meeting is hardly any less intimidating than the first one had been. In fact, Regulus thinks he might be feeling even more anxious this time around, given he already knows just how hostile most of the people in the room are going to be. And as for Sirius, ‘hostile’ would probably be an understatement. He supposes the Potters must be tucked away in their hiding place by now, wherever that may be; he very much doubts that will have improved his brother’s mood. 

Maybe he might feel a bit more at ease if Dumbledore ever bothered to explain anything properly, Regulus thinks to himself irritably. They’re not meeting at Potter Manor this time around - presumably because James, Lily and Harry are now in their new undisclosed location - and Dumbledore had simply given him an address in Camden to come to and a time to get there, with no word of explanation attached to the message. Now, as he approaches the building, Regulus has to double check that he’s got the address right, frowning in bewilderment. 

It’s certainly nothing like Potter Manor. He’s had to come to a very ordinary, Muggleish part of London that he’s never seen before, despite having grown up in the city. And it looks as though the address Dumbledore has sent him to is a dull, Muggleish flat, perfectly suited to this dull, Muggleish part of town. He tries not to wrinkle his nose in distaste - he supposes the flowers sitting in a pot on the windowsill are quite pretty, if you like garishly bright and colourful things, but they can’t distract from the way the dirty ‘white’ paint is peeling slightly from the walls.

Sighing to himself, Regulus knocks on the front door, noticing that the knocker is lion-shaped, made of copper that’s turned green with age and looks so worn he’s surprised it doesn’t come off in his hand. 

A moment later, the door opens to reveal Remus Lupin. 

“Regulus.”

“Lupin,” he replies, trying to sound bored and unaffected.

He tries his hardest not to fidget, as Lupin fixes him with another one of those annoyingly thoughtful looks, hazel eyes sweeping curiously over him as though he’s a particularly interesting homework assignment. 

Regulus lifts his chin, meeting his gaze defiantly, and Lupin grins suddenly, as though he’s enjoying some private joke. Regulus flushes, wondering if his own stubborn reaction to the scrutiny had reminded Lupin of Sirius. 

“Well, I suppose I can’t leave you hanging around on the doorstep all evening,” Lupin says, grinning a little as he gestures for Regulus to come over the threshold, closing the door behind him. He nods in the direction of the coat rack and Regulus awkwardly takes his coat off, still feeling the other man’s eyes on him. 

“Although I have to say,” Lupin continues, and Regulus can hear a trace of amusement in his voice, “I do sort of wonder if Dumbledore is just enjoying pissing Sirius off at the moment. I mean, inviting you to Order meetings is one thing, but then inviting you into Sirius’s own home -”

“Wait… what? My brother lives here? ”

Lupin raises his eyebrows at Regulus’s surprise. 

“Well, yeah, we both do. Didn’t Dumbledore tell you?” 

“Evidently not,” Regulus replies, hoping that the sarcastic bite in his voice will cover his genuine shock. 

He knows, of course, that Sirius has wanted to get far away from Grimmauld Place and a world obsessed with blood purity for years now - but somehow, he had never pictured his brother willingly living in such a small, unremarkable flat, obviously intended for Muggles. After all, he was still a Black, wasn’t he? 

He wonders briefly if Lupin had been implying what he thinks he was implying, when he’d said that he and Sirius were living here together. That would make a lot of sense, now he thinks about it, given just how attached at the hip the two of them had always been at school - he remembers how Sirius used to fly into a rage even more quickly than usual, if Regulus or anyone had ever dared to say a single critical word about Lupin. 

But then, why did he seem so snappy with him at the last meeting? Regulus wonders, frowning to himself. There was definitely something odd going on there. Sometimes he felt as though he would never understand his brother. 

Alright, perhaps the little flat isn’t so bad, he concedes, as Lupin leads him into the living room. It’s very basic, compared to what Regulus is used to. But it’s certainly much more modern-looking than Grimmauld Place, and he supposes that, although the sofa and armchairs are rather mismatched, the cushions and blankets far too bright for his taste, and the little fireplace - evidently added for Floo purposes - looks very out of place with the rest of the Muggle decor, the room still looks perfectly cosy. Still, Regulus feels even less welcome here than he had done at the first meeting - he’s fairly certain that, regardless of Dumbledore’s invitation, his brother does not want him in his home. 

It seems that he might have a few minutes of respite from Sirius’s glare, at least, he realises, looking around and realising that he’s not here. He can’t hear any yelling from the other room this time, either. 

“Where’s…?”

“Sirius?” Lupin finishes his sentence for him, arching one eyebrow wryly and looking at him as though he can tell exactly what he’s thinking. Regulus hates that. “Dumbledore sent him on a mission, with Gideon. He’s been even more of a sulky git since James and Lily had to leave - I expect Dumbledore was probably just trying to get him out of everyone’s hair for a bit.” Regulus huffs a surprised laugh, before remembering that he doesn’t want to. Lupin grins slightly and rolls his eyes, though Regulus can sense there’s something else underneath his sarcasm. “But they’ll be here,” Lupin continues. “Might be back a bit late, though.” 

Regulus nods, trying to project the impression that he doesn’t much care when his brother arrives. He has the feeling Lupin can see right through him, though. Bastard. 

“Anyway, I’ve got to sort some stuff out before the others get here and the meeting starts properly,” Lupin continues. “You can just sit down anywhere, Regulus, I’m sure Fabian can take care of you for a few minutes.”

“You called?” Fabian Prewett pipes up suddenly, once again startlingly close and seemingly coming from nowhere. Regulus tries not to jump - but he’s not sure he succeeds, given the small smirk on Fabian’s face. Or maybe that’s just what the man always looks like. 

“I was just saying, I don’t really have time to babysit Sirius’s little brother at the moment,” Lupin tells him. Regulus glares at him - Lupin’s only response is to shoot him a smug little grin. Clearly, he’s been spending too much time with Sirius. “So I told him you’d be happy to take care of him for a bit.” 

“Happy to be of service,” Fabian agrees immediately, giving him a little mock bow and shooting him a grin much more mischievous than Lupin’s, looking up at him from under surprisingly long lashes. Regulus feels a small surge of irritation, even as his stomach does another strange little flip. 

“Good. I’ll see you two in a bit, yeah?” Fabian nods, without actually taking his eyes off Regulus. Lupin claps him gently on the shoulder. “Keep him out of trouble, will you?” 

Regulus glares at his retreating back. Fabian laughs at the dark expression on his face.

“You can sit down, y’know, Black Junior,” he tells him. Regulus switches his glare to Fabian instead.

“I would prefer just ‘Regulus’, if you don’t mind,” he says haughtily.

Fabian laughs again. Regulus’s rudeness never seems to faze him. 

“Alright, I get it, you’re nothing like your brother,” he replies, holding both hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Good thing, too. One Sirius Black running around the place is quite enough to give anyone a headache. But two… ”

He shakes his head in mock solemnity, as if that image is too overwhelming to even consider, and Regulus grins without meaning to.

“Just Regulus it is, then,” Fabian agrees. “I’ll be sure to use your actual name from now on. Suits you, anyway.” His mouth twitches up into another grin as he catches Regulus’s eyes again. To his bewilderment, Regulus feels his cheeks heating; he turns his face away, confused. 

“So,” the tall redhead continues, clapping his hands together, suddenly businesslike, “have a seat, ‘just Regulus’, and I can fix you a drink before the meeting starts. Tea? Or maybe something a bit stronger? You look like you could use it right now. I could fix you a G and T if you like, I’m sure Remus won’t mind if I nab a bit of his gin for you. He did tell me to look after you, after all.”

Regulus is quite sure that isn’t what Lupin had had in mind; but, feeling a fresh surge of irritation as he remembers the ‘babysitting’ comment, he figures it wouldn’t be the end of the world to piss Lupin off just a tad. 

“Thanks,” he mutters, trying to summon a small, grateful smile. “That sounds great.”

Fabian ushers him towards the closest, slightly shabby-looking armchair, still grinning, and heads off towards the tiny kitchen - Regulus can see the scarlet and gold sunset spilling in through the little window above the sink. Given the confident way he moves towards the kitchen - not to mention the fact that he apparently knows about Lupin’s secret gin stash - Regulus assumes that the Prewett twins are far more welcome in this flat than he is. Which makes sense, he supposes, given how much Sirius used to hero-worship the two of them when he was younger. 

Other Order members are starting to arrive now; and although they all wave merrily at Lupin and Fabian, Regulus can’t help but notice that they still don’t look particularly welcoming towards him. Some, like Dedalus Diggle and Emmeline Vance, give him awkward, curt nods. Others, though, like Mary MacDonald and the famous Auror Moody, simply narrow their eyes at him in blatant distrust. Or in Moody’s case, one eye is narrowed - the other is artificial, electric blue, spinning, and frankly terrifying, giving Regulus the impression that the grizzled old Auror is looking right through him. 

He looks back at them all haughtily, hoping they can’t tell how uneasy he is - it feels rather isolated, sitting here by himself. He tries not to fidget - Fabian has probably only been gone for a minute or two, but it feels more like an hour. 

“Here you go, ‘just Regulus,’” he hears the familiar cheerful voice say, finally. 

He looks up to see Fabian grinning broadly at him as he proffers the drink, and he struggles to hold back a little sigh of relief. “One top notch gin and tonic, just as promised.”

“Thank you,” Regulus murmurs as he takes the cool glass.

“Any time,” Fabian replies, as he throws himself casually down into the empty seat next to Regulus, once again ignoring the scandalised looks from the others. Regulus can’t help but grin a little as he notices that the other man had fixed himself a gin and tonic as well; perhaps that was what had been taking so long. 

He watches Fabian drink over the rim of his own glass, trying not to look like he’s staring.

“Something on your mind?” the redhead asks. Apparently he hadn’t been as inconspicuous as he’d hoped. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Regulus blurts, before he can stop himself.

“Sorry?” Fabian asks, looking confused. 

He can feel his face starting to burn again - where did that come from? But Fabian is still looking at him inquiringly, and he supposes he’s already made an idiot of himself. It’s a bit late to turn back now. He sighs.

“Well, y’know…” he mutters, lowering his voice. He can still feel the others looking at them suspiciously. “Most people in here stare at me like they’re expecting me to turn around and use an Unforgivable on them at any moment. I mean, you can see that for yourself, they’re doing it right now . But you…you just smile at me, and say hi without being a sarcastic dick about it, and tell me to sit next to you, and fetch me drinks. So…what is that? Why are you being so nice ?” 

He tries to keep any trace of suspicion out of his voice, but he can’t quite help it. 

Fabian is quiet for a moment, studying him thoughtfully with those bright blue eyes. Regulus feels his face growing warmer again under the other man’s gaze, but he doesn’t look away. Finally, Fabian grins, giving him a little shrug. 

“I’m not sure what to tell you, to be honest,” he says, his voice just as quiet as Regulus’s. The conversation feels strangely intimate, considering they’re surrounded by other people greeting each other. “Maybe some people in here would say I’m being stupid, or naive,” he continues, “but it seems to me that we’ve got quite enough suspicion around here as it is, these days. We could do with a bit more…kindness, I suppose. Friendship. I was talking with Gid about this the other day. He agrees with me. We both just figure, if we let this war take away all of our kindness, our trust in each other…well, we’d be no better than the Death Eaters, would we?” 

“I suppose…” says Regulus slowly, staring at him. He’s never heard anyone phrase it like that before. So simply. 

“Besides, you’re evidently already sorry you ever sided with… Him , in the first place, or you wouldn’t be here, would you?” He looks a little awkward, bringing it up - Regulus thinks it’s the first time he’s seen the other man looking anything less than completely confident. “We all make stupid mistakes. It would be a shame if we were stuck being judged just by those mistakes for the rest of our lives, wouldn’t it? And yeah, okay, your mistake was pretty huge” - Regulus flinches, staring down at the floor, and Fabian nudges him gently, making him look up again - “but, the way I see it…it was bloody brave of you to come along and join us judgemental bastards, despite everything.” 

Regulus stares at him. Fabian is looking at him with that warm, open smile again, but there’s no trace of mischief or amusement now. His expression is completely earnest. Regulus opens his mouth, wanting to respond, to thank him - but he can’t seem to find the right words. 

Thankfully, he is saved the necessity of finding the words, as Dumbledore chooses that moment to walk into the little living room.

“Ah, good evening,” he says with a smile, politely nodding to each of them in turn. “Regulus, I was wondering if I might have a private word with you before the official meeting begins?” Dumbledore asks.

Regulus frowns, feeling a strange jolt of nerves in his stomach. Has Dumbledore already decided to rescind his invitation to any future Order meetings? Decided that, on second thought, he can’t be trusted enough? Has Sirius managed to put him up to this?

“Uh…alright,” he says warily, standing up, trying to ignore Fabian’s look of concern.

“Splendid,” says Dumbledore, with one of his irritating twinkling smiles. “And I would be very much obliged if you would join us briefly in the other room too, Remus,” he adds.

Lupin stares at him, looking just as surprised as Regulus feels.

“What…me?” he asks, not bothering to hide his shock. “Me and Regulus? ”

“That’s right,” Dumbledore responds cheerily. “There is a matter I would like to discuss with you both, if that is alright.”

Lupin shoots Regulus a bewildered glance. He shrugs back at him. The taller man sighs and nods, and the two of them silently follow Dumbledore out of the living room, Lupin’s expression making it clear that he’s doing this against his better judgement.

“We may use your study, I presume, Remus?” Dumbledore asks lightly.

“Of course,” Lupin responds, nodding stiffly, walking ahead slightly to open one of the doors on the left side of the narrow hallway. 

Like the rest of the flat, Lupin’s ‘study’ is small and poky - although Regulus supposes ‘cosy’ would be a politer word. The little desk is scattered haphazardly with various papers and sheafs of parchment, including a large map of Britain with red pins gathered in bizarre, irregular clusters over its surface - Lupin conspicuously mutters a spell so that the strange map furls itself up tightly when he catches Regulus looking. There are three books sitting on the desk too; a quick glance shows Regulus that they all seem to be on the subject of prophecies. Apparently Dumbledore has been putting Lupin on research duty. Despite the small size of the room, Lupin has somehow managed to cram in at least three bookshelves as well, packed to bursting with all kinds of books. Evidently the ‘study’ doubles up as a library as well - looking around curiously, Regulus notices numerous books that seem to be written by Muggle authors, including a volume with the name ‘Oscar Wilde’ on the spine, as well as another leather-bound book with the title ‘The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.’ 

There is only one chair, behind the little desk - Dumbledore politely gestures for Lupin to sit there. The scarred man raises one eyebrow - presumably in irritation at being offered his own furniture - but sits without comment, still frowning curiously at the other two. 

Humming to himself, apparently completely at his ease, Dumbledore summons two of his trademark cushy flowered armchairs, gesturing for Regulus to sit down next to him, so they’re both facing Lupin across his desk. 

“Alright, what’s this about?” Lupin asks suspiciously, narrowing his eyes slightly at the headmaster. “Why did you want a word with me and Regulus? What have I done?” 

“It is not a question of ‘what you’ve done’, Remus,” Dumbledore replies calmly. “This is about something I would like you to do. I presumed you might like a break from your research, as well as from the kind of monthly missions I have been sending you on recently - was I correct?”

Regulus watches as the other man’s eyes widen slightly, his suspicious look replaced by something weary and more than a little sad. 

“Yes,” Lupin mutters. “I would very much like a break from those missions.”

“As I thought, then,” Dumbledore replies with satisfaction. “As for why I have pulled you and Regulus aside before the meeting starts - I have a feeling that the two of you would be an excellent pair for the mission I had in mind.”

“We would?” the two of them ask simultaneously, looking at each other with doubt on their faces. Dumbledore only chuckles. 

“Yes,” he says simply, “you would - assuming you can both push past your respective biases, of course. As you might remember, Remus, I mentioned in passing, last meeting, that Regulus has already given me some immensely valuable information, which we can use against Voldemort.” 

“Oh?” says Lupin, now looking at Regulus with frank curiosity written across his face.

Regulus freezes, a mingled sensation of adrenaline, excitement and fear coiling in his chest like a loaded spring. So Dumbledore is finally going to address a plan of action about the Horcrux. This was the whole reason he had defected in the first place - but now it comes to it, is he really ready?

“The task I have in mind for the two of you deeply concerns the information that Regulus gave me,” Dumbledore explains to Lupin. “As you can probably imagine, it is of a rather sensitive nature - so I thought it would be best if the three of us could discuss it privately before the meeting.” 

At that moment, there are loud footsteps outside, what sounds like someone being shoved, a grunt of pain. “Get off, Fab!” says a very familiar voice. 

The door to Lupin’s study bursts open, and Sirius storms in furiously, his grey eyes blazing, followed closely by the Prewett twins, who are panting slightly, faces almost as red as their hair. Both of them grimace apologetically at Dumbledore, Regulus and Lupin. 

“All but the best laid plans…” Dumbledore murmurs, with a small sigh. 

“ Lovely to see you too, Professor,” Sirius says loudly, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Good evening, Sirius,” Dumbledore responds wearily. “And good evening to you too, Gideon, Fabian.” The twins nod back at him awkwardly. “I was under the impression that two of you were supposed to be out on a mission this evening?”

“Gid and I got back early,” Sirius counters, before the Prewetts can say anything. “It was all clear, nobody there to trail - almost like they knew we’d be keeping an eye out. So we decided to come back and give you our report in time for the beginning of the meeting - only when we got back and I asked where you were, Fabian here told me you were having some kind of private meeting with my boyfriend and my dearest brother .” Fabian darts Regulus an apologetic glance; Sirius, on the other hand, his voice full of scorn, doesn’t spare him a look. Regulus looks determinedly at his knees. “So you see, Professor, I was feeling a bit left out,” Sirius continues. 

“Sirius, be quiet, ” Lupin mutters, glaring at him.

“Oh, be quiet yourself, Moony,” Sirius retorts, scowling back at him. “You were cosily hidden away in here for this private meeting . Prongs isn’t here any more, obviously, and Wormy said he can’t make it tonight because his mum’s sick again - not that he’s ever been able to stop me from doing anything, anyway. And as for you two,” he says, turning back to the twins, “no offence, but I sort of expected better from you. It was pretty bloody easy to get past the two of you, you must be going soft in your old age.” The Prewetts look guiltily at Dumbledore again, as Regulus takes a moment to silently marvel that Potter’s absence has somehow made his brother even more obnoxious than normal.

“I can’t help but notice that you’re using my home for tonight’s meeting, Professor, and that you have not only invited my brother into the Order without consulting me, but into my own flat , as your guest, once again without asking my permission,” Sirius continues. His voice is quieter now, which Regulus recognises, through the prickle of shame and hurt, as a dangerous warning sign that his brother is reaching the end of his tether. “I’ve just come back to give you my report on the mission, because I go on all the missions you send me on and report back to you, no matter how daft they might seem. Hell, I’ve just had to convince my best friend to go into hiding with his family, because you said it was for the best. I have been very tolerant, even though I still don’t have much of a clue what my brother is even doing here. So, it seems to me that you can’t have anything to say to these two that you can’t say in front of me. ” 

Sirius draws himself up to his full height, crossing his arms and lifting his chin defiantly, his eyes still blazing with anger as he stares Dumbledore down.

Dumbledore surveys him over his half moon spectacles with that piercing blue gaze of his. It’s the same look he’d given Regulus when he’d first come to see him.

“Very well,” he agrees with a small sigh. “You may stay and hear what I have to say, Sirius. Fabian, Gideon, you may as well stay too, now you are here. Make sure the door is closed, please.”

“Muffliato,” Gideon whispers, pointing his wand out into the corridor before closing the study door. Regulus can feel Fabian’s concerned gaze on the back of his head; as opposed to Sirius, who still hasn’t looked directly at him once. 

Lupin shoots Sirius a warning look, apparently trying to ensure he actually keeps quiet long enough to listen. 

“As I was just telling Remus before the, ah…interruption,” says Dumbledore, “the reason that I have invited Regulus here is because he came to me, a few weeks ago, with some immensely valuable information against Voldemort. You asked me, Sirius, at the last meeting, what exactly this information was. I can tell you now that your brother has, in fact, provided us with our greatest hope so far of destroying Voldemort and winning this war once and for all. Regulus told me that, judging by the evidence of his house elf, and from his own research, he is almost certain that Voldemort has created a Horcrux.”

A stunned silence greets these words. Regulus stares straight ahead, feeling everybody’s eyes on him. 

“And, what is more,” Dumbledore continues, giving Regulus a small smile, “Regulus has assured me that his house elf, Kreacher, should be able to lead us directly to this Horcrux, which has apparently been placed in a cave somewhere near the sea. If we can manage to get past Lord Voldemort’s defences and take his Horcrux, without his being any the wiser, then I believe we shall have a real chance of destroying it.” 

“And you trust what my brother tells you, do you?” Sirius asks, his tone very sceptical. Regulus glares at him, his stomach twisting with guilt and anger again, but Sirius doesn’t even look round.

“Yes,” Dumbledore replies matter-of-factly, “I do.” 

Sirius makes a scornful noise, which Regulus chooses to ignore. 

“Actually,” Regulus says quietly, looking at the headmaster to resist the urge to punch his brother, “I told you that Kreacher would be able to lead me to the Horcrux. I want to destroy it.” 

“I quite appreciate that you wish to uh…take your revenge, as it were,” Dumbledore replies, with another weary sigh. “But I must ask you to think rationally, Regulus - I know you are certainly more than capable of it. As we know from Kreacher’s experience, the Horcrux is well protected. This will be a very dangerous mission, that much is certain - and there is strength in numbers.” 

Regulus glares at the old man, irritated by his impeccable logic. 

“I suppose you will be leading us on this very dangerous mission, then?” he shoots back at him, fully aware that he sounds impertinent. 

To his surprise, though, the headmaster shakes his head. 

“Magic leaves traces,” he says, “and unfortunately, Voldemort is very familiar with my own distinctive style. I do not think it would be very wise to alert him to my presence in that cave, so soon after he has placed his Horcrux there. Of course, he is familiar with you too, Regulus, but…”

“I’m going,” Regulus says, his voice coming out calm and cold. “I’m going to take that Horcrux away from him, and destroy it. I don’t care how dangerous it is. I need to do this.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sirius finally looking at him, surprise written across his face, but this time Regulus avoids his gaze. Dumbledore smiles slightly, his eyes twinkling behind the half-moon glasses. 

“Perhaps you two brothers are not quite as dissimilar to each other as you like to think,” he suggests quietly, chuckling as they both glare at him in indignation. 

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, Regulus,” he adds, “but I was going to suggest that you go on this mission anyway. It would be rather foolish of me to exclude you, given our information comes from you in the first place. That is why I wanted to speak to you and Remus - assuming you are willing to take this risk, Remus? I think your defensive skills would rather come in handy - and as I said, I truly believe the two of you could work well together.”

“Of course I’m willing,” says Lupin, looking offended at the very idea that he might refuse the challenge. 

“I’m grateful,” Dumbledore replies with a smile. “Your courage does not go unnoticed.” 

“Wait…you’re sending these two to get the Horcrux?” Sirius asks, as though he can’t believe his ears. 

“That’s right,” says Dumbledore mildly. 

“Then I’m coming, too,” he says immediately.

Dumbledore hesitates, giving him a look that almost seems uneasy. 

“Sirius…I appreciate your enthusiasm,” the headmaster says slowly. “But I am not convinced that the three of you would be the best combination…”

“With all due respect, Professor ,” Sirius growls, sounding menacing and almost canine, “if you think I’m going to leave those two alone together, you can bloody well think again.” 

His eyes are flashing dangerously again, and he’s holding himself in a way that tells Regulus he’s readying himself for a fight. There’s a strange edge to his voice - there’s no arguing with him when he’s like this. 

Regulus feels a curl of unease, wondering what exactly his brother means by that. 

Dumbledore doesn’t respond, just gazes at him thoughtfully. A tense silence stretches across the tiny room. 

“I’ll come along, too,” Fabian pipes up suddenly, his voice determinedly bright. Regulus jumps a little - in the face of his brother’s rage, he’d almost forgotten the twins were there. 

“You will?” he asks, surprised by how relieved he feels at the prospect. The idea of retrieving the Horcrux is daunting enough, no matter how brave he pretends to feel; the prospect of doing it with only his brother and Lupin for company didn’t make him feel any better.

“Of course I will,” Fabian replies, giving him another easy grin. Regulus feels something flutter in his chest. “God knows, you three lads are going to need me there - you won’t get anything done without me, you’ll only bicker yourselves to death.” 

Even Sirius cracks a sheepish grin at that. 

“Well, I imagine the four of you together will make a formidable team,” Dumbledore concedes. “Although I believe you are already assigned to be on guard duty with your brother for the rest of this week, aren’t you, Fabian?” 

Fabian looks sideways at his twin, a slightly guilty expression on his face. 

“You don’t mind, do you, Gid?” he asks. “Only it sounds like these three could really do with my help…”

“Nah, don’t worry, Fab, it’s fine,” Gideon responds, grinning back at him and waving an airy hand. “It’s just standard guard duty - if it’s anything like what Sirius and I had tonight, I’ll probably be home early anyway. I can find someone a bit prettier than you to go with me, if I need to” - he ducks as his slightly taller twin reaches out to swat him - “but I’m sure I’ll be just fine on my own.” 

“Well then, that’s sorted!” says Fabian loudly. He grins and claps his hands together, looking much more excited than Regulus feels is really decent, in this context. “Let’s get cracking on this adventure then, shall we?”