Mortal Once More

31st October, 1983 - Little Hangleton

"My name isn't Bellatrix, you see." 

“What?” Riddle snaps impatiently, staring at her as though suddenly questioning her sanity - though, if she had actually been Bellatrix, Regulus muses, it would probably be a bit late for that. 

“I think you might have mistaken me for my older sister, my lord,” she continues, smiling brightly at him despite the fact that her tone is positively dripping with scorn and sarcasm. “You know, normally I would be more offended - but it’s hardly the first time someone has made that mistake, and I didn’t actually take the trouble to correct you for a little while there, because we were rather banking on your confusion, you see. So I suppose, just this once, I can let it slide.” 

Voldemort is staring at her - the first time he’s bothered to look properly, directly at her all evening - eyes wide, pale face once again completely blank with shock. Despite the situation, Regulus suddenly finds himself struggling not to laugh. 

“I don’t believe we’ve actually been formally introduced, have we?” Andromeda says smoothly, not a trace of fear in her voice. “Andromeda Tonks. Charming of you to refer to me as a ‘blood traitor whore’ when you were telling us that story about your parents earlier, by the way - gosh, that really cut me to the core, I’ve never heard that one before. Though the fact that you also used those words in reference to your own mother is…a whole other suitcase that we don’t have the time to unpack, really.” 

“He said that about his mother?” Lily and Remus ask in unison, both looking revolted. 

“He did indeed,” Narcissa pipes up calmly from her spot near the door. “He treated us to a whole family history lesson - the main theme was basically that he’s still immensely satisfied with himself for killing his father in this very room, despite the fact that his father was a defenceless Muggle, so the whole story wasn’t quite as impressive as he seemed to think it was. And you can all consider yourselves lucky that I just summarised that so succinctly for you - he really does seem to like the sound of his own voice.” 

Riddle whips around to stare at her now, his mouth open, but no words emerging. Clearly, this is a lot for him to process all at once. Narcissa makes a soft tutting sound at him, as though he’s the same age as her toddler son. 

“You should probably start paying a little more attention to other people, shouldn’t you?” she says, giving him a small, ironic smile, although her gaze is icier, more dangerous, than Regulus has ever seen it. 

“Oh, sorry I left you hanging by the door earlier, by the way,” Remus says to her. “I forgot I was meant to nudge you once all three of us were safely in. I sort of got, uh…distracted.” 

His gaze flicks towards Sirius and quickly away again - although not quickly enough, it seems. 

“Holy shit, Moony,” Sirius exclaims, an absurdly smug grin spreading across his face, “you got turned on by that? By me pretending to be a Death Eater?” 

“I did not say that!” Remus protests immediately - but the uncharacteristic blush pooling in his cheeks couldn’t be a bigger giveaway. 

Regulus raises one eyebrow at his best friend. Really? Remus just gives him a small shrug, evidently having no explanation to offer. 

“You did, though, you did!” Sirius crows gleefully, looking as delighted as if all of his birthdays and Christmases have come at once. “Oh Merlin, I am never gonna let this go, you do realise that?” 

“I will divorce you,” Remus says flatly. 

“You’ll have to marry me first!” Sirius replies, singsong. Regulus takes a moment to marvel at the restraint Remus is showing in not hexing him. “Remus Lupin enjoys it when I pretend to be a Death Eater…oh Merlin, and Reggie thinks that I’m fucked up!” 

“You are,” Regulus reminds him. 

“Oh.” Sirius’s grin finally fades a little. “Right, yeah.” He pauses. “So are you, though.” 

“Yes,” Regulus agrees. “Obviously.” 

“But where is Bellatrix, then?” Riddle snarls, apparently having recovered from his shock sufficiently to form words again.

“Oh, we haven’t hurt her or anything, don’t worry,” Andromeda replies. “Well…not much, anyway.” 

“As if he would actually be worried about anyone other than himself,” Narcissa says coldly, raising one eyebrow. “But no, we haven’t hurt her, really - unless forcing her to take an impromptu nap counts as hurting her. She did seem to be getting a little overexcited. Thoughtful of you to go off and wait for Regulus in Hogsmeade while he looted Dumbledore’s office for you. Well…alright, thoughtful might be a bit of a strong word. But it gave us the chance to get our older sister out of the way before you arrived, so it was convenient, at the very least. Which is why Regulus encouraged it, of course.” 

Regulus frowns, turning around a little. He’d thought, for a moment, he had heard a small skittering sound. Seen the curtain move ever so slightly, out of the corner of his eye. But he can’t see or hear anything now. Probably just on edge, he figures, turning back to the conversation at hand. 

“But why?” Riddle hisses, scarlet eyes bulging, veins almost popping with fury. “Why would you be so foolish as to betray me? After everything I have done for you -” 

“What, like murdering my husband?” Narcissa and Andromeda ask simultaneously. 

For a moment, they almost look like twins, a mirror image of each other as they stare at him with icy hatred in their stormy eyes, gaze sharp enough to draw blood. 

Voldemort looks at Andromeda, frowning slightly. 

“Did I kill your husband, too?” he asks, not sounding remorseful in the slightest, but rather vaguely curious. “He was not noteworthy enough for me to remember it, if I did.” 

She snarls, face twisted with fury, taking a step towards Riddle; Narcissa quickly reaches out to hold her back, grabbing her older sister by the wrist, fingernails digging into her skin in warning. 

“If you want to know why I decided to betray you,” Regulus pipes up conversationally, forcing himself to lift his chin and meet the man’s gaze directly, trying to ignore the icy curl of fear sitting in his chest, “well, it was mostly because I realised that you’re a remorseless, sadistic bastard without a shred of empathy for anybody else, who actively enjoys causing hurt and suffering. Honestly, I can’t believe I was ever dense enough to swallow any of your bullshit about sacrificing people ‘for the greater good.’ But I suppose it was what you did to Kreacher that finally brought me back to my senses.” 

Riddle’s snarl fades momentarily, replaced by an expression of bewilderment. 

“Kreacher?” he echoes blankly.

It occurs to Regulus, suddenly, that as far as Riddle knows, Kreacher had drowned in that cave after he had deliberately left him there to die. Clearly, he hasn’t spared the elf a single thought since; Regulus is only just realising now that the bastard had never even bothered to learn Kreacher’s name, when he had demanded to ‘borrow’ the Black family’s house elf. 

In that moment, Regulus feels a surge of violent rage burning through him, coursing through his veins, from his fingertips to his toes, so strong that it obliterates any remaining trace of fear. 

“Yes, Kreacher,” he answers. “Our house elf, Kreacher. He’s not just a servant to me - he’s family. You asked me if you could ‘borrow’ our elf, about two and a half years ago now, remember? Stupid as I was, I agreed. You took him to a terrifying cave in the middle of nowhere, forced him to drink a poisonous green potion that made him relive his most terrible memories, just so you could hide something precious away in the empty basin before replenishing it - and then you sailed away and left him there, left him to be drowned by the army of Inferi you’d left in the lake. But then, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you don’t even remember his name, after all that,” Regulus adds, his voice shaking with rage now. “Just a worthless, disposable elf - that’s what you thought, right?” 

For a split second, Riddle looks almost fearful.

“How could you possibly know about…?” 

“Well, firstly, Kreacher told me all about it, when I called him home,” Regulus answers calmly. “And secondly - I’ve paid a visit to that cave myself.” 

“You’ve…what?” Voldemort hisses.

“We’ve paid a visit, actually,” Sirius pipes up, smirking.

“That’s right,” Regulus agrees, gesturing at the others. “Me, my brother, Remus and Fabian here - we went together. Because thanks to Kreacher’s testimony, I realised that the thing you were so desperate to hide in that basin, guarded by that awful potion and those Inferi, which was apparently worth so much more than Kreacher’s life - well, I figured it must have been pretty important to you. So I did a bit of digging, and…finally, it clicked. That’s when I made the decision to go to Dumbledore - long before you told me to. There was no way in hell I could keep believing that you were ever striving for ‘the greater good’, once I realised you were trying to trade my house elf’s life to hide a Horcrux, was there?” 

Riddle has suffered quite a few shocks already tonight - but nothing else has made him look quite so stunned, so horrified, as this. 

“What?”

“Oh, and your family history lesson was quite interesting, actually,” Regulus adds. “You were telling us how you managed so ingeniously to track down Slytherin’s locket, the one that your mother once ran off with and sold? I believe you said - rather confidently, in fact - that you were certain you had hidden it well, so well that nobody would ever find it again?” 

Not bothering to repress his smirk now, Regulus reaches into his pocket, pulling something out and casually dangling it in front of Riddle by its long chain - the stained, burnt, shattered husk of what had once been Salazar Slytherin’s locket. 

“Looks like you might have been wrong there. Again.”

“Getting a little embarrassing now, huh?” Sirius pipes up. 

The look of stunned horror on Voldemort’s face almost makes Regulus laugh aloud. 

“I replaced this with a decoy locket, you see,” he continues casually. “I even left you a letter to explain what I’d done - an anonymous letter, that is.” 

“I mean, it wasn’t entirely anonymous, as I recall,” Remus pipes up, grinning. “Didn’t you sign it with your initials? R.A.B?” 

“Oh, right, yeah,” Regulus concedes. “It’s a shame, really, that you never got to read the letter,” he continues, addressing Riddle again - the man doesn’t seem to have recovered his ability to speak just yet, staring at the shattered locket as though desperately hoping he’s just imagining it. “I was quite proud of it, actually. But never mind, I think I can remember the gist of it, if you’re interested. I believe it said something along the lines of: ‘To the Dark Lord - I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can, in the hope that, when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.’ Well, it was something like that, anyway.” 

“Couldn’t miss the chance to be a dramatic little shit, could you, Reggie?” Sirius asks, grinning at him, the affection and pride in his voice impossible to miss. Regulus feels a warm glow spreading through his chest - he can’t quite keep himself from grinning back at him, even as he rolls his eyes. 

“Cauldron, have you met my friend kettle?” he retorts, causing both Remus and Fabian to snigger. 

“Merlin, but he is a dramatic little shit, isn’t he?” says Fabian, his tone utterly adoring. 

“What, me or him?” Regulus asks wryly, tilting his head towards Sirius. 

“Both of you,” Fabian and Remus respond simultaneously, emphatically, exchanging a look that seems to be torn between exasperated and utterly smitten. 

Riddle still hasn’t said a word since Regulus had withdrawn Slytherin’s locket from his pocket, apparently still struggling to process the shock. But suddenly, to Regulus’s astonishment, the snakelike man throws his head back and begins to laugh. The sound of it is cold, humourless, unhinged - but Regulus doesn’t find it quite so unnerving anymore, because he can also clearly hear the edge of panic, of hysterical desperation. 

“Oh, Regulus,” Voldemort says finally, shaking his head, looking at him with scarlet eyes gleaming with malice, “you fool. You stupid, stupid boy. So, to avenge your worthless elf, you decided to risk your own life to find and destroy the locket? And now you stand here, feeling so confident that you can finally show me your true, traitorous colours, truly believing that you actually have a chance of winning against me, of coming out of this alive? I admit, I did not expect anyone to ever succeed in retrieving the Horcrux from that cave, let alone succeed in destroying it. But the loss of that locket does not make me defenceless, Regulus - it does not even make me mortal, in fact. Did you really think that I would be foolish enough to rely on only one Horcrux? I am greater, more daring, than any wizard who has ever lived, Regulus, I have walked further along the path of immortality than anyone else before me. That locket was only one Horcrux - but I have created five others besides it. So, if you were hoping to defeat Lord Voldemort, I think you’ll find that you still have rather a long way to go. Not that you’ll ever have the chance to get there now,” he adds, with another cold, mirthless laugh. “You’ve shown me your hand rather too early, haven’t you, pathetic little boy?” 

Clearly, Riddle is expecting this information to catch him completely off-guard; but Regulus only smiles, staring calmly back at him. He opens his mouth to reply - but Remus beats him to it. 

“Y’know, if I were you, I might not be quite so quick to accuse Regulus of stupidity,” he says casually. 

“I shall deal with you later, werewolf,” Voldemort hisses, his gaze moving only briefly towards him, face twisted with revulsion, before shifting his focus back to Regulus. 

“Just Remus is fine, thanks,” he replies conversationally, “or Lupin will do too, I suppose, if you’d rather be a bit more formal.” Regulus exchanges a look of gleeful pride with his brother. “But well done for remembering that I’m a werewolf. Funny how you seem to have forgotten something else about me, though. Something quiteimportant, I would have thought.” 

“What?” Riddle snaps, finally giving the scarred man his full, undivided attention. 

“Fab?” Remus asks, turning to him.

“Catch,” Fabian replies, grinning as he opens his satchel bag, pulls something out and throws it to Remus, who, grinning back at him, catches it one-handed - the butchered remains of a tiny black book.

“It’s just that I was actually quite proud of myself for destroying this,” Remus explains, turning back to Riddle and holding the diary up, so that he can clearly see the hole the basilisk’s venom had burnt right through the centre. The other man freezes at the sight of it.

“Y’know,” Remus continues, “after you entrusted it to Lucius Malfoy and he decided to pawn it off on an innocent Hogwarts student, to keep himself safe from Crouch’s raids? I assumed you already knew about me destroying it, though - thanks to my very-clever-yet-astonishingly-idiotic boyfriend deciding to shoot his mouth off to Rita Skeeter, in a somewhat misguided attempt to defend me.” 

Sorry, Sirius mouths at him, grimacing apologetically; Remus rolls his eyes, but the adoring grin that tugs at his lips as he looks briefly back at him gives him away. 

“Honestly, I’m sort of surprised you forgot about that, Riddle,” he continues, raising one eyebrow as he looks back at Voldemort with a thoroughly sarcastic, unimpressed, Remus Lupin expression on his face. “Bit irritating, if I’m honest. If I’d known you’d already forgotten about me, maybe I wouldn’t have been stuck in hiding with these two and their bickering for months on end,” he adds, gesturing towards James and Lily. 

“Oi!” James pipes up indignantly. “We’re a damn delight, Moony! You love us, and you know it!” 

“Mm, I love Lils and Harry, sure,” he replies, hazel eyes bright with mischief. “You, though…” he wiggles his free hand in the air in a so-so gesture. “Jury’s still out. Could do with you picking up your damn socks once in a while, instead of leaving them strewn haphazardly all over the cottage - had enough of that back in our dorm. It’s somewhat concerning that your three-year-old is already better at folding his laundry than you are, Prongs.” 

“He has a point, you know,” Lily adds, her emerald eyes gleaming with amusement. 

Sirius sniggers and he and Lily beam at each other; it would seem that taking the piss out of James Potter is one of their favoured bonding activities. James, for his part, casually shows Remus his middle finger, though the effect is rather ruined by the huge, affectionate grin on his face. 

“The point being,” Remus continues, turning back to Voldemort, who is still standing stock still, only his scarlet eyes moving, back and forth between the shattered locket and the butchered diary, “given that you appeared to have forgotten about my destroying the diary, you might want to be a bit less confident when you accuse Regulus of being an idiot. He knows a hell of a lot more than you do, it would seem - because it looks like the locket isn’t the only Horcrux that’s already been destroyed, Riddle. So that’s two out of six down already, isn’t it?”

“And speaking of Lucius,” Narcissa pipes up, her icy grey gaze fixed on Voldemort, “he was, admittedly, rather foolish with that diary -” 

“Rather foolish,” Fabian echoes scornfully under his breath, casting her a glare, while Regulus shoots him a stern warning look -

“ - but it seems it didn’t even occur to you how foolish you were. You murdered my husband, with no hint of remorse - you didn’t even bother to try and lie to me about it - and then you still expected me to just lie down and keep obediently following your orders? To be grateful for your ‘protection’, because you made the oh-so-merciful decision not to kill me and my son for Lucius’s mistakes? If you hadn’t been quite so casually dismissive of me, my lord, perhaps you might actually have noticed how much I loathe you, and noticed the fact that I abandoned you and your cause long ago. Bellatrix was no help to me at all, of course - so, as you see, I sought out my other sister.” 

She gestures towards Andromeda. 

“I knew exactly what it feels like, you see,” Andromeda adds. “Having the man I love taken away from me. Having my family ripped apart by you.” 

Her beautiful face is twisted with mingled grief and rage.

“So, we decided to go to Albus Dumbledore,” Narcissa continues quietly. “Neither of us were expecting to find Regulus there, of course; I’ll admit, I wasn’t exactly thrilled at the sight of him at first. I didn’t realise he’d already defected. But…I owe him an apology.” 

She turns to Regulus, offering him a small, soft smile - the sort of smile she used to reassure him with when he was a frightened child, when his mother’s back was turned. The sort of smile he hasn’t seen his favourite cousin wear for years.  

“I owe Regulus an apology,” she continues, “because if it wasn’t for him, Andromeda and I would never have known that you had ordered our sister to conceal this.”

Smirking a little now, Narcissa reaches into the pocket of her skirt, withdrawing something small and holding it up for Riddle to see - a golden cup with two handles. Regulus can just about make out the engraving of a badger - the sign of Helga Hufflepuff - although the markings are a little difficult to see clearly, owing to the fact that the little cup has a huge, deep crack down its centre. The gold is faded and tarnished - but Regulus suspects that’s nothing to do with its advanced age. He can imagine the cup would have been just as dazzlingly bright as the diadem, right up until Narcissa and Andromeda had driven a basilisk fang through it. 

Voldemort hisses in shock and horror, recoiling from the sight of one more destroyed Horcrux. 

“Bellatrix is still besotted with you, of course - Merlin only knows why,” Andromeda tells him conversationally - she, too, is smirking at the look on his face. “And luckily for us, it doesn’t seem to have occurred to our dear older sister for a second, even after what you did to Lucius, that Narcissa might not be quite as devoted to you as she is. She was perfectly happy to let her into her Gringotts vault, anyway, as she has done many times before. Though she didn’t realise Narcissa was planning to bring me along this time, of course; nor did she realise that we were looking for one thing in particular, or that we were armed with a few basilisk fangs, thanks to Regulus.” 

“The basilisk fangs are technically thanks to me, actually,” Remus pipes up. 

“Whatever,” says Narcissa, shrugging slightly without looking at him; Regulus raises an eyebrow at his best friend, amused, and Remus rolls his eyes back at him. “The point is,” she continues, familiar haughty expression firmly in place again as she looks at Riddle, “thanks to Dumbledore and Regulus, we know perfectly well that this cup that once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, that you entrusted to our sister, is a Horcrux. Well, it was a Horcrux, anyway. So that’s a third one down, isn’t it, Riddle?” 

“Come to think of it, the lost diadem of Ravenclaw isn’t looking too healthy at the moment, either,” Fabian interjects casually, speaking over Voldemort as he splutters incoherently with rage. “Right, Meggie?” he asks, grinning at the blonde girl standing next to him, opening his satchel bag again and proffering it to her with a ridiculous little bow.

“You could say that, yeah,” Meggie replies, trying and failing to suppress a grin at Fabian’s antics, her tone mild as she reaches into his bag. 

She pulls out the charred, twisted and mangled remains of the silver tiara, the sapphires which had once been so bright and dazzling now almost completely blackened, and holds it out in front of her, dangling it by its twisted chain to ensure Riddle can see it clearly.  

“Actually, I s’pose it’s technically the found diadem of Ravenclaw now, right?” 

“Meggie found it,” Fabian tells Riddle gleefully, practically bouncing in excitement, a ridiculously proud grin on his face. Despite the insanity of their current situation, Regulus is tempted for a split second to walk over and taste that grin. Focus, he reminds himself sternly. “Not only did she find it, she destroyed it - well, you gathered that much for yourself, I assume.” 

“Not sure you’re giving yourself enough credit there,” Meggie replies, grinning up at him, though looking more than a little thrilled by his obvious pride in her, all the same. “I had quite a lot of help with that part, as I recall. But yeah, I did find it by myself,” she adds, looking directly at Riddle, barely a trace of fear on her face. “I’ve gotta say, if you really didn’t want anyone other than you to find Ravenclaw’s diadem, maybe you shouldn’t have hidden it in exactly the same room that almost everyone at Hogwarts uses as a hiding place?” 

“Wait,” says Sirius, staring wide-eyed at the destroyed diadem in her hand. “Reg didn’t mention that you found Ravenclaw’s lost diadem in the Room of Requirement…seriously?” 

“Yep,” Fabian confirms, grinning at him. “That’s what I said.”

“Whoa,” Sirius murmurs, looking stunned for a moment. “Yeah, that was a pretty stupid place to hide it, actually,” he adds, turning back to Voldemort.

“Anyway,” Meggie says brightly to Riddle, whose eyes are practically popping with rage and shock again, “seems like that’s four out of six Horcruxes you’ve already lost, right? Gosh, maybe you shouldn’t have been quite so smug when you called Professor Black an idiot, huh?” 

“Oh, and there’s this, too,” James adds suddenly. Riddle whips around to look at him, just as the bespectacled man pulls something small out of his pocket, holding it up to the light. 

Regulus immediately recognises the tarnished silver ring, inlaid with a large black stone, engraved with a triangle enclosing a circle, overlaying a vertical line. The stone has a huge crack running neatly along the line. The last heirloom of the Gaunt family. 

He hadn’t noticed until this moment that James is wearing a ridiculous pair of mittens, each embroidered with a matching stag. Entirely characteristic of the idiot - but also unusually sensible, Regulus supposes, given none of them are quite sure whether the curse had faded when the ring was destroyed. 

“I can’t take credit for destroying this one, to be clear,” James adds hastily. “As far as I understand it, it was Dumbledore who managed that.”

“Dumbledore?” Voldemort hisses. 

He looks somehow even more deathly pale than usual, casting his eyes frantically around the room, as though worried the old man’s ghost might have returned to haunt him. 

“He got a nasty curse for his trouble, though,” Regulus tells him. “A curse which was killing the old bastard slowly and painfully for months. He asked me to kill him instead, actually, to end his suffering. It took me a while to work up the nerve - or the compassion, whatever we want to call it - but I got there in the end. Albus Dumbledore is dead according to his request, Riddle, not yours.” 

“Not really sure why he decided to leave it to me and Lils,” James adds, with a small shrug, “I never could understand half of what the brilliant bastard was on about. Pretty sure he would have wanted you to know it was him that destroyed that ring, though. Anyway, if my maths is right so far - though admittedly, my wife is the brains of the operation, not me - then it would seem you’ve actually lost five out of six Horcruxes at this point, right?” He lets out a low whistle. “Damn, Sirius was right - this is getting pretty embarrassing for you, isn’t it?”

“I’m always right, Prongs, you know that,” Sirius replies, smirking at his best friend.  

For a moment, Riddle sways on the spot slightly as he stares at the shattered remains of his five Horcruxes; Regulus wonders, briefly, if the man is going to pass out from the shock of it all. His face is contorted with mingled horror and fury - but then, as he looks at Sirius, something suddenly shifts. His scarlet eyes narrow, his gaze clear, cold, calculating now, as though some switch has been flipped. 

“Did I hear Regulus mention something before about ‘your plan’?” Voldemort asks him. “This pathetic, traitorous display - this was all your idea, was it, Sirius?” 

“Well, destroying the Horcruxes was a group effort, obviously,” Sirius replies, looking rather taken aback by the change of subject and the man’s abrupt shift of focus. “But…yeah, it was me who connected the dots. I found the missing pieces of the puzzle, you could say.”

“So, pretending that you were going to defect to my service, that you were going to hand me the Potters? That was not Regulus’s idea, but yours?” 

“Yep, that was me,” Sirius answers, grinning at him. “That bit was my masterstroke, really. Even Reg agreed it was genius.” 

“I literally did not say that even once,” Regulus reminds him, but his brother ignores him. So does Voldemort - he doesn’t even look at him, staring at Sirius with a strange, hungry expression on his face. 

“Ingenious, indeed,” he murmurs. 

Riddle’s tone is calm, quiet now. Almost soothing. 

Regulus couldn’t explain why, exactly - but something about that tone makes his chest seize up so that he can barely breathe, a sheet of ice wrapping itself around his heart. Nothing else tonight has made him feel as frightened as this.

“You were always the odd one out, though, weren’t you, Sirius?” Voldemort continues, tilting his head as he considers him, his tone still perfectly calm, almost reasonable. “The misfit. The outsider. The one who was supposed to be sorted into the noble house of Salazar Slytherin, but failed in that most simple of tasks.” 

“What?” Sirius says blankly, staring at him, evidently wondering where the hell he’s going with this. 

Regulus, for his part, is wondering much the same, though the icy dread coiling in the pit of his stomach insists that wherever Riddle is trying to lead his brother, it isn’t going to be pretty.

“It seems strange, though,” the man continues, merciless red stare still fixed unblinkingly on Sirius, long fingers twirling his wand almost absentmindedly. “The Sorting Hat neglecting to sort you, the heir of the ancient, noble Black family, into the correct house. Because it seems clear to me that you are hardly lacking in the qualities that my ancestor most valued, Sirius. Brains, talent. Ambition. And futile as your plan will ultimately be, you have certainly demonstrated a great deal of cunning in your endeavour to thwart me.” 

Sirius continues to stare at him, grey eyes wide. For the first time this evening, Regulus sees a hint of fear flicker across his brother’s face. 

“So….perhaps Hogwarts sorts its students too young,” Riddle continues, his lipless mouth curving into a small, satisfied smile at the expression on Sirius’s face. “Perhaps the Sorting Hat got it wrong, all those years ago. Perhaps, Sirius, you should have been in Slytherin after all.”

Voldemort gives his wand a little flick; Regulus flinches violently, preemptively. But a moment later, he realises that the man was simply Summoning something from the depths of the bag lying forgotten at Regulus’s feet; the bag full of Dumbledore’s possessions, taken from his office mere hours ago, though it feels like days. 

The aged, tattered and patched Sorting Hat flies out. Before Regulus can even begin to process what’s going on, Riddle gives his wand another tiny flick, causing the Sorting Hat to soar up, landing neatly on Sirius’s head. 

“You will find that Lord Voldemort is merciful,” he says smoothly. “I am giving you one last chance. One last chance to turn away from this childish foolishness. To come back to your true family, to reclaim your birthright as the Black heir. To truly join me, and stand by my side in glory when this war is won. What say you, Sirius Black?” 

For one long, endless moment, Sirius simply stares back at him. Everyone in the room seems to be frozen to the spot now, staring between the two of them. 

“What do I say?” Sirius replies finally. He lifts his chin haughtily as he stares back at Riddle - that trademark Black gesture of defiance. “I say, go fuck yourself.” He pauses, apparently for dramatic effect. “Bitch.”

Regulus sees the rage flickering in those scarlet eyes, senses the incoming storm - but a moment later, it vanishes without a trace, leaving Riddle’s expression completely, unnervingly calm again. 

“You are too foolish to save yourself, then,” he says quietly. “And the Sorting Hat has nothing further to say about you, I see - it seems it cannot save you, either. A shame, really,” he adds, with a small sigh. “I did try, but…” He shrugs, flicking his wand again, and Sirius’s entire body freezes, locking him into place, his wide, alarmed eyes the only part of him moving. A silent Petrificus Totalus. “On your own head be it.” 

With that, Riddle flicks his wand once more, casually, almost lazily. Without warning, the old, frayed Sorting Hat - the Sorting Hat that is still on Sirius’s head - bursts into flame. 

Every word, every single thought in Regulus’s head is wiped away instantly, his brain freezing over completely. All that time spent planning, strategising so carefully - yet now, here he is, unable to think, barely even able to breathe. Distantly, he hears cries, shouts of shock and fear from the others around him, but he’s almost deafened by the shrill, wordless whine of panic in his head, ringing in his ears. 

He’d known how incredibly dangerous this confrontation was going to be, of course - they all had. But as it turns out, Regulus hadn’t actually known, hadn’t felt it, until this moment. 

How many times, throughout his childhood, had he stood there shaking in fright, watching his older brother - the axis around which his entire world revolved - being punished, with no idea how to save him? And now, here they are again - only it was never quite like this. Not even in his worst nightmares had Regulus considered that he might be forced to witness Sirius being literally burned alive, both of them entirely helpless to stop it. 

He’s going to die. His brother is going to die. 

But then, just as Regulus is about to throw himself at Riddle’s feet, sobbing, dignity be damned, begging the man to take his life in exchange for his older brother’s…he hears a familiar, metallic-sounding clang. Sirius stumbles a little, the Body-Bind Charm seeming, inexplicably, to have lifted, the flaming Sorting Hat falling from his head. 

“Aguamenti!” Remus cries desperately from somewhere behind him, a jet of water from his wand dousing the flames that had just started to singe Sirius’s long hair - at the same moment, Regulus catches a glimpse of scarlet and silver as something large and heavy clatters loudly to the floor. 

He barely has time to process the fact that the sword of Godric Gryffindor is suddenly, somehow, lying on the carpet, before Sirius, somehow freed from the Body Bind, is bending to pick it up. 

Riddle is staring at the sword, his mouth open, apparently frozen to the spot in shock; Sirius, on the other hand, having regained full use of his limbs, is evidently determined not to waste another second. Jaw set, stormy eyes blazing, he strides forwards, raising the ruby-encrusted sword high in the air as he rapidly closes the distance between himself and Voldemort. 

Before Regulus can even fully comprehend what his brother is planning, Sirius swings Gryffindor’s sword down hard and fast, putting all his strength behind the strike. And suddenly, there’s a vivid spurt of scarlet blood, and the huge snake that had been curled around Riddle’s shoulders, Nagini, falls to the ground with a deafening thud, its head landing a few inches away from its body. Sirius has decapitated it in one fell swoop. 

Voldemort opens his mouth, eyes popping again as he screams in helpless shock and rage. 

“Y’know, I think you might have been wrong there,” Sirius says, his tone almost conversational, despite his heavy breathing, the splatters of blood on his face, the flash of steely triumph in his eyes. He holds the gleaming, bloodstained sword up again, turning it to ensure that Riddle can clearly see the name engraved on the hilt: Godric Gryffindor. “Looks like the Sorting Hat made the right choice after all.”

A moment of stunned silence. 

“Alright,” Remus pipes up, his voice much fainter than usual. “I am willing to admit that that was pretty fucking sexy.”  

“Seriously, Remus?” Regulus mutters weakly, his voice cracking, as Sirius grins. Remus doesn’t respond to him, staring at Sirius with a thoroughly overwhelmed expression on his face. Regulus knows the feeling.

The sheer, disbelieving relief is hitting him full force now; ridiculously, he’s somewhat concerned he might be about to burst into tears. 

He saved himself. Sirius saved himself. 

“No, he’s right,” James and Fabian announce simultaneously, both of them staring at Sirius with almost awestruck expressions. His grin widens. 

“You know, as I understand it,” says Lily suddenly, ignoring them all, her gaze fixed on Riddle, “Sirius has just destroyed your very last Horcrux. So yes, you might have been twisted enough to create six - but right now, it looks like you have a grand total of zero. From where I’m standing, it looks like you’re outnumbered - and pretty much out of options.” She’s twirling her wand almost carelessly, her tone deceptively light - but Regulus isn’t fooled. The woman may look unassuming - when she wants to, at least, but she also packs a lot of power into that tiny frame. “So…what’s your next move, Riddle?” 

“You dare address me?” Voldemort spits at her. “You dare, you filthy little Mudblood?” 

Meggie makes a hissing sound like an angry cat, raising her wand.

“Oh, I really wouldn’t speak to her like that, if I were you,” James warns him. 

He, too, raises his wand, pointing it at Voldemort; everyone except Lily follows suit, so that the man is standing there with eight wands trained on him.

“Yes, I do dare to address you, as a matter of fact,” Lily replies, her voice perfectly calm. “But my husband is right - it probably isn’t the best idea, talking to me like that. It’s never a very good idea, in general, calling me Mudblood - but particularly right now. Because you’ve been forcing us to stay inside, to keep our heads down and stay silent, for over two years now. Neither of us are especially good at keeping our heads down. And on top of that, you’ve been threatening our son. So now?” She stares at him defiantly, lifting her chin, her bright green eyes blazing with rage. “Now I’m angry. And believe me when I tell you, Riddle, that you do not want to push me when I’m angry.” 

“I’d listen to her, if I were you,” Sirius volunteers, grinning, wand in one hand, bloodstained sword in the other. “Take it from me, Lils is pretty scary when she wants to be.” 

“After all that effort, it was rather foolish of you to crack and leave your little hiding hole now, wasn’t it?” Voldemort hisses. “You might actually have had a chance at keeping your boy alive; only now, you’ve made it absurdly easy for me to destroy the pair of you, you and your blood traitor husband.” His eyes flicker momentarily towards James, before his malicious gaze latches back onto Lily. “You’ve left your boy entirely unprotected, because you got tired of hiding from me? Do you not understand that the two of you are practically handing the child to me, you stupid girl?” 

Far from looking unnerved by this, Lily raises an eyebrow at him, her emerald eyes flashing fire. 

“Merlin, you really are a bit thick, aren’t you, Riddle?” she says, her tone dripping with ice - Regulus sees James and Sirius exchanging gleeful, ridiculously proud grins. “Obviously we didn’t leave Harry unprotected when we came here tonight - what, did you think we’d just left our three-year-old alone in the house? He’s with friends; Regulus is still our Secret Keeper, and if he’s managed to keep Harry’s location hidden from you for the last two and a half years, I’m not sure why you think he’d suddenly share it now.” 

“Regulus?” Voldemort echoes, practically shrieking with shock and fury as he swivels his head round to look at him. “Regulus has been your Secret Keeper?” 

“Yep,” he answers casually. “Been round to their place a few times, actually. I’m not big on kids, generally, but I’ve gotta admit, theirs is reasonably cute.” Riddle stares at him, his features contorted with rage, and Regulus shrugs back at him, smirking slightly. “I’m pretty good with secrets, turns out.”

“I wouldn’t bother trying to work out where Harry is, though,” Lily continues, her bright eyes burning with rage and hatred again. “Because I can promise you now, you will never have the chance to get anywhere near my son. In fact, given how outnumbered you are right now - and bearing in mind that you don’t have a single Horcrux left” - here, she steps forwards past the barrier of her own Shield Charm, giving her wand a tiny flick to ensure that the others are still protected by it - “I wouldn’t actually count on getting out of here alive, if I were you.” 

For a moment, the man simply stares at her in blank shock. Then, Voldemort throws his head back and laughs; once again, Regulus can clearly hear the edge of unhinged desperation, the sound of it echoing around the Riddles’ living room. 

“Oh, but it really is a little fool,” he says finally, gasping for breath a little as he gazes at her, scarlet eyes gleaming. “Did your hero Dumbledore really neglect to tell you why he was sending you into hiding, the reason that I have been hunting your boy down in the first place? A prophecy was made, little girl - and Severus Snape told me what that prophecy contained.” 

For a split second, Lily’s face betrays her shock at this revelation of her old friend’s latest betrayal; Riddle seems to mistake it for shock about the prophecy itself. 

“Nobody in the world has the power to vanquish me,” he crows, “except for your boy, potentially, one day, if he is allowed to grow old enough. That is why I am going to snuff him out, long before he has the chance to grow older. You cannot destroy me, little girl, nobody can destroy me, other than your son. It is fated.” 

Lily just looks at him for a moment, head tilted slightly. 

“I’m guessing you never bothered to read any Muggle literature, right, Riddle?” she asks, apropos of nothing, as far as Regulus can tell. 

“What?” Voldemort snaps, for once thinking along the same lines as Regulus; for a moment, even James, Remus and Sirius look bewildered. “Of course I haven’t wasted my time on Muggle filth!” 

“No - I thought you might say that,” Lily replies, with a smirk. “See, I always thought that Divination - fortune telling, crystal balls, prophecies, all of that - was complete bullshit. But maybe, Riddle, if you’d ever taken a Muggle Studies class instead, if you’d ever bothered to pick up a Muggle book - or maybe even a play - you might have learnt some valuable life lessons. There’s a quote from a rather famous Muggle which I think is pretty applicable right now, actually.” She raises her wand, pointing it directly at him. “I defy you, stars.” 

Voldemort stares at her, his inhuman face contorted with fury - partially, Regulus suspects, because he doesn’t understand what Lily is talking about, and feels small and stupid because of that fact. 

“Enough of this,” he snarls. “I grow weary of listening to the pointless tattle of a pathetic, powerless Mudblood. Those were nothing but the desperate, foolish last words of a desperate, foolish little girl.” 

He raises his wand high above his head; Regulus, realising that Lily has stepped beyond the boundary of the Shield Charm’s protection, feels every part of him tense in fear. 

“Avada Kedavra!” Riddle shrieks, twirling his wand through the air -

“Expelliarmus!” Lily Potter shouts, at the exact same moment. 

Dazzling green light bursts from the end of Voldemort’s wand, just as it flies into the air and soars in Lily’s direction, answering her summons. For a split second, Regulus watches in terrified silence - along with everyone else in the room - as Riddle’s Killing Curse heads directly for Lily. But before he can shout out a pointless warning, the jet of green light collides in midair with the bright red beam of Lily’s Disarming spell. 

Voldemort’s scarlet eyes widen in shock and pure, unconcealed terror as he realises, in the same moment as the onlookers, the effect of the collision - the jet of dazzling green light, his own Killing Curse, has rebounded, soaring back towards its caster with a loud rushing sound, as though death has beating wings. He lets out one last cry of mingled rage and fear, before his own jet of green light hits him squarely between the ribs. His eyes roll all the way back into his head, his stare suddenly vacant and unknowing, his empty hands splayed at his sides. 

Lily Potter stands there holding a wand in each hand, her emerald eyes blazing, looking like some ethereal goddess of vengeance as she stares down at the feeble, shrunken shell of Tom Riddle, which hits the floor with a mundane finality. 

For one long, seemingly endless moment, nobody speaks or moves - a shivering, stunned silence reverberates around the room. 

“Looks like you forgot to tell him that you’re the possessor of the Elder Wand, huh Lils?” Sirius asks finally, staring down at the corpse of the man who had terrorised the entirety of wizarding Britain for the last decade. 

“Whoops,” Lily replies, looking up and grinning at him. “Knew there was something that had slipped my mind.” 

James lets out a small, stunned laugh - and that seems to be the catalyst for the dam to break. 

With a sound somewhere between a laugh and a choked sob, Sirius suddenly drops the sword of Gryffindor with a clatter, striding forward - casually kicking Voldemort’s body aside as he goes - and pulling James, Lily and Remus into an impossibly tight hug, squeezing the three of them as if he never wants to let go of them again. All three immediately wrap their arms around him in turn. Regulus watches as Remus pulls him even closer, somehow, as though he needs reassurance that Sirius is really there, unharmed, his eyes fluttering closed as he presses a fierce kiss to the top of his boyfriend’s head. 

“Holy shit,” Sirius chokes out, his voice muffled as he presses his face against Remus’s chest. It doesn’t look as though he’s planning to disentangle himself any time soon. “I thought…I thought…Godric, Lils, we nearly died. I thought we were both goners for a minute there. Would have been a fucking painful way to go, too, in my case at least.” 

Regulus flinches violently. So do Remus and James. 

“Pads,” Remus mutters, face still pressed into his hair. “I love you - but can you please shut the hell up? We were right here, we saw it, we don’t need the reminder, thanks.” 

“Seconded,” James and Regulus agree simultaneously. 

“Right, yeah, sorry,” Sirius mumbles, still refusing to lift his head away from Remus’s chest. 

“So…” Fabian pipes up, his voice shaking a little despite his brave attempt at a grin, “it wasn’t just me who was absolutely bricking it that entire time, then?” 

“No, it wasn’t just you,” replies…everyone else in the room, simultaneously, as far as Regulus can tell. 

“Oh,” says Fabian, his grin growing a little steadier. “That’s good, then. At least I wasn’t left out.” 

Regulus huffs out a laugh, his chest swelling with so much love and sheer relief that he’s slightly concerned he might burst with it. Or worse, just burst into tears. Before he can embarrass himself, he strides over to the others - giving Riddle’s body another kick for good measure along the way - wrapping his arms tightly around Fabian the second he reaches him. 

“You idiot,” he mumbles into the taller man’s chest. “You utter bastard. I’m so angry with you.” 

He would probably sound a little more intimidating, if his voice wasn’t audibly shaking with relief. 

“I know,” Fabian murmurs, wrapping his arms around Regulus in turn, squeezing him tightly as though he never wants to let him go. Which is fine by Regulus - he has no particular desire to leave. 

“I’m fairly certain I told you not to come,” Regulus reminds him, pressing his face into his boyfriend’s chest. 

“I know,” Fabian says again. “I’m sorry.” Regulus makes a disgruntled hmph sound without lifting his head; he doesn’t sound nearly apologetic enough, if you ask him. “But you know me, Reg,” the taller man continues, pressing a soft kiss into Regulus’s curls, making his heart swell pathetically as always. “Following instructions has never really been my strong suit.” 

“What in the name of Salazar is going on here?!” shrieks a familiar, ear-splitting voice.

For a moment, Regulus’s heart seems to stop beating. 

Slowly, he extricates himself from Fabian’s embrace, turning around to see his oldest cousin standing in the doorway, staring wide-eyed at the scene in front of her. Bellatrix looks remarkably conscious, given that Narcissa and Andromeda had seemed pretty confident in their assertion that they’d ‘forced her to take a nap’ - not to mention, incredibly pissed off, her beautiful face contorted with rage.

Regulus darts an uneasy, accusatory glance in her sisters’ direction; to their credit, they both look just as alarmed by her sudden appearance as he feels. 

Bellatrix edges further into the room - her gaze lands first on her sisters, both gaping back at her. 

“Cissy?” she demands, sounding somewhere between bewildered and incensed. “Why…what the hell are you doing with her? What’s…?” 

Bellatrix freezes suddenly, grey eyes bulging with horror as she notices Riddle’s body lying on the carpet, his stare utterly vacant and unknowing. 

“My…my lord?” she whispers. For a moment, she just stands there, staring at him, as though waiting for a reply. When none comes, she lets out a sound that’s as close to heartbroken as Regulus has ever heard her - quite the feat, considering he’s not even entirely certain Bellatrix has a heart - and dashes over to Voldemort, kneeling down at his side, shaking him by the shoulder none-too-gently, as though trying to wake him up. Which is rather clutching at straws, as far as Regulus is concerned, given that Riddle is lying there with his eyes wide open. 

“No!” Bellatrix shrieks, desperate, hysterical. “My lord…Master…please, it cannot be, it can’t…you’re not…” 

“He is, actually,” Regulus pipes up calmly. Bellatrix raises her head slowly to look at him, her expression suggesting this is the first moment she’s fully registering his presence. “Dead, that is,” he clarifies. 

“You!” Bellatrix snarls. 

If he had thought she’d looked angry before, that was nothing compared to her expression now. She looks completely and utterly unhinged, her wide stormy eyes sparking with vicious, uncontained fury, like lightning breaking glass, wild dark curls seeming to crackle with chaotic, unrestrained power. 

Finally abandoning the futile attempt to wake Riddle, Bellatrix pushes herself upright, her entire, dangerous attention focused solely on Regulus. In this moment, he feels suddenly like a small child again, terrified of his unpredictable cousin, prey frozen before his natural predator. 

“I knew it!” she shrieks, her face contorted, deranged. “I tried to tell him, I tried to warn him! I knew it all along, I knew you couldn’t be trusted - and here’s the proof! You think you’re so clever, don’t you, little baby boy?” 

Her voice has taken on the mocking baby tone she always used to torment him with when he was a child, the voice she’d used to let him know he was at the bottom of the Black family food chain. It really shouldn’t frighten him any more, now that they’re both adults…and yet. 

“You are nothing, Regulus, nothing but a stupid, pathetic little blood traitor, just like your brother! Oh, but I should have done this years ago…”

She takes a step towards him, raising her wand and pointing it directly into his face. 

Once again, Regulus feels his entire brain freeze as he stares back at her. He can’t even seem to move his body, to lift his own wand to defend himself, his ears ringing, that deafening, wordless whine of panic reverberating through his skull. After everything he’s achieved, some tiny, distant, rational part of his mind muses, this is a pretty embarrassing way to go, really. The last thing he’s ever going to see in this world is Bellatrix’s deranged face, apparently. 

“Avada -” she shrieks - 

But before she can finish the curse, a jet of green light hits her directly in the chest, without warning, just as her beloved master had been hit with his own rebounded Killing Curse less than ten minutes ago. 

For a fraction of a second, Bellatrix seems to realise her fate, her grey eyes widening in shock, fury and fear mingling on her beautiful, aristocratic face. A moment later, she topples and falls, her body landing barely an inch from Riddle’s. 

Breathing hard, more than a little concerned that his own heart might be about to give out, Regulus looks around, frantically searching for the person who had cast the curse, who had just saved his life. He doesn’t have to look far. 

Sirius, still blood-spattered from his decapitation of the snake, breathing just as fast as Regulus, jaw set and stormy eyes blazing, is standing there with his wand outstretched. He’s staring down at Bellatrix’s body, wearing the most menacing expression that Regulus has ever seen on his face. 

“Just a little word of advice to everyone here,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically calm, quiet - almost frightening. “If you fuck with my little brother, you fuck with me. And I don’t recommend it.” 

For a moment, there’s nothing but a billowing, shocked silence in the wake of this announcement.

“Sirius, I could kiss you,” says Fabian, his voice coming out as a small whimper.

“I don’t recommend it, Fab,” Remus responds, his thoroughly shaken expression undercutting his sarcasm. “But…yeah, I know the feeling.” 

“Sirius,” Narcissa breathes, gazing down at Bellatrix’s body as though she can’t believe what she’s seeing, “what the fuck? You just…you just killed my sister…” 

“I did, yeah,” he agrees, not sounding apologetic about this in the slightest. “She tried to kill my baby brother, see.” 

Usually, Regulus would have something to say about being referred to in this way - but right at this moment, he’s feeling the tiniest bit overwhelmed. 

“Sirius…” He says slowly, struggling to form coherent words. “I…that was unhinged.” 

“Probably, yeah,” his brother replies with a small shrug. “What else is new?” 

He grins at him tentatively, evidently trying to get a laugh out of him. When Regulus just continues to stare at him, Sirius starts to fidget. 

“Look, I’m sorry if I scared you. But she’s known us both our whole lives, which means she really should have known better than to attack you right in front of me. I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect you, Reg. You know that. Bellatrix knew it too - or she should have done, at least.” 

“But….I…” Regulus sighs, hopelessly frustrated by his sudden inability to form words. “Why, though?” 

“Why?” Sirius echoes incredulously. 

He looks at Regulus as though he’s being incredibly dense - maybe he is, he can’t seem to process anything right now. Dimly, he registers that everyone else has gone completely silent, staring at the two of them. 

“Well, because… I love you, Reggie,” Sirius says quietly. “Always have. Always will.”

Regulus feels his breath hitch as he stares back at his brother. 

Sirius lets out a small, awkward laugh. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, tucking his long dark hair behind his ear - a nervous habit of his ever since he was a small child. “Probably should have actually said that aloud a bit more often, shouldn’t I?” 

Regulus blinks rapidly, willing the tears back, feeling his throat burn. 

“Probably, yeah.” He makes a brave stab at sounding casual, but quickly gives up, wincing a little when he realises his voice is audibly - and embarrassingly - hoarse with tears. “S’ok, though. I probably should have said it more often, too.” 

Sirius stares at him, his eyes widening. Something in his expression makes Regulus’s chest swell with warmth - it’s so vulnerable, so hopeful. For a split second, Sirius looks like a small child again, a child who’s so excited just to see his little brother. 

“You…you mean…?” 

“I love you too,” Regulus tells him quietly. He gives him a shrug and a small smile, hearing Sirius’s breath hitch in turn. “Always have, always will.” 

“Oh,” Sirius breathes, his voice shaking. 

Regulus stands there, tugging awkwardly at his sleeve, feeling immensely exposed and vulnerable, not really having any clue what to say or do next. Luckily, Sirius makes the decision for him. 

With a small, choked sound, he abruptly strides over to Regulus, closing the distance between them and wrapping his arms tightly around him. Regulus is being hugged by his older brother, for the first time in over ten years.

Regulus manages not to break down crying - just about - but it’s a near thing. Instinctively, he wraps his arms around Sirius’s waist, burying his face in his shoulder. 

When they were kids, Sirius had smelt like fireworks and Fizzing Whizzbees and the hot chocolate and fresh bread he was always sneaking to Regulus behind their mother’s back. He smells different now; like leather and paperback books, cigarettes and motor oil. Not to mention, he’s not exactly in the cleanest state - he’s still got bloodstains splattered across his cheek, which is sort of disgusting, really. 

But Regulus can’t quite bring himself to care about any of that. Because it almost feels like the two of them are inside one of the cushion forts they used to build to insulate themselves from the frightening world outside, curled up under the patchwork blanket they’d spent hours making together in secret, in the Muggle way, because they hadn’t had the skills to make it with magic yet. Somehow, despite everything, his brother still feels like his safe harbour, his sanctuary. Still feels like home. 

“You’re such a little shit, you know that, Reggie?” Sirius mutters into his hair, his voice still choked. 

“Yeah,” Regulus replies, face still pressed into his brother’s shoulder. “I know. Sorry about that.” Sirius lets out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “You are sort of unhinged, though,” he adds, after a moment.

“Well yeah, no shit,” Sirius answers, reaching up to flick his ear affectionately, just as he’d done countless times when they were children - it had irritated Regulus, once upon a time, but now he’s fairly certain he would happily let Sirius do it over and over for hours. “Where did you think you picked it up from?” 

Regulus fully intends to roll his eyes, or at the very least look up at Sirius with a withering, unimpressed stare - but instead, he finds himself sniffling into his shoulder. 

“Love you,” he whispers.

“Love you too, Reggie,” Sirius answers, squeezing him tighter. 

When he was fifteen years old, Regulus had walked away from his older brother, and he had felt something shatter deep inside him, leaving him broken, incomplete. Perhaps he’s being fanciful, after all the near-misses of the night, perhaps he just needs to sleep  - but he swears, in this moment, he feels that shattered part of himself mending, stitching itself back together. Sirius and Regulus Black, two broken halves of a whole, finally clicking into place again. 

“Look, this is very lovely and heartwarming and everything,” says Narcissa, “and far be it from me to bring the mood down, but…am I the only one wondering how the hell Bella got up here in the first place?”

Regulus pulls reluctantly away from his brother, turning to find his cousin frowning down at her oldest sister’s body. 

“I mean, we Stupefied her,” Narcissa continues, “and we tied her up pretty securely. At least, I thought we did. Right, ‘Dromeda?”

“Yeah,” Andromeda agrees, also frowning down at Bellatrix. “Yeah, I was wondering that too…” 

Without warning, Remus stamps his foot loudly down on the carpet, making everyone jump. Regulus hears a small squeal. 

“Think I might have solved that particular mystery,” Remus announces, his expression grim.

“What…?” Regulus asks blankly.

Remus bends down; when he stands up straight again a moment later, he is holding a large grey rat by the end of its tail. 

Sirius and James both inhale sharply at the sight of it; James looks devastated, Sirius murderous. Regulus stares in blank shock, watching as the rat squeals and wriggles violently as though its life depends on it, twisting and writhing and trying fruitlessly to sink its teeth into Remus’s hand. 

Looking supremely unconcerned by this, Remus taps his wand lightly against its head. Promptly, the rat stops its violent struggle, going completely limp, dangling from Remus’s hand. 

“Moony,” James whispers, switching his horrified gaze to Remus now, “you didn’t just…you haven’t…” 

Remus shakes his head.

“No, I didn’t kill him, Prongs,” he says quietly - though the cold, calm fury in his expression tells Regulus that he had certainly been considering it. “I wouldn’t do that, I promise; I do actually remember your opinion on that matter, funnily enough. He’s just Stunned, that’s all. Thought it would be a good idea as a precaution, considering what happened last time.” 

“Right,” James replies shakily. “Yeah. Good thinking, Moons.” 

“Well,” says Sirius, his expression suffused with a vengeful fury as he stares at the rat now dangling limply from Remus’s hand. “This is a fun little reunion, isn’t it?” 

“But…but that’s Scabbers,” Fabian says suddenly, his tone utterly bewildered. 

“What?” James, Sirius, Remus and Regulus exclaim simultaneously. 

“What in Merlin’s name is a Scabbers?” Remus demands, staring at him as though he’s insane. 

Fabian frowns, looking even more bemused by this reaction. 

“Well…that’s Scabbers,” he repeats, pointing at the limp rat. “That’s my nephew Ron’s pet rat. The kid has been clinging to that rat almost every time I’ve visited, feeding him an absurd amount of Fudge Flies.” The others all continue staring at him blankly. “Well, technically Scabbers is Percy’s rat, actually,” Fabian continues, rambling a little now, clearly wondering what he’s said wrong, “but it’s Ron who’s been besotted with him ever since he showed up in their garden, according to Molly.” 

“And when was that, exactly?” Regulus asks. 

“When was what?” 

“When did the rat show up in Molly and Arthur’s garden?” Sirius and Remus clarify simultaneously, urgently. 

“Oh…Merlin, I don’t know, ages ago,” Fabian answers. His brow furrows as he considers. “Must be about two years now, I s’pose. Maybe a bit more. Why?” 

“So not long after Gid was killed, then?” Sirius growls. 

Fabian flinches slightly. 

“Well…yeah. Molly reckons that’s probably why Ron got so attached to Scabbers, actually - she wasn’t doing too great, and Ron wanted a comfort animal because he didn’t understand what was going on.” 

Sirius and Remus exchange a dark look. 

“What?” Fabian asks, starting to sound irritated now. “What the hell has my nephew’s pet rat got to do with Gid?” 

“He’s not a rat,” Sirius growls, his jaw set. 

“He’s an Animagus,” Remus clarifies, shaking him slightly by the tail. 

“That’s Peter, Fab,” James informs him quietly, looking utterly devastated. 

Fabian freezes. 

“Peter? As in Pettigrew? Your friend?” 

“Ex-friend, I think you’ll find, actually,” Remus replies mildly, as Sirius growls and James flinches, as though Fabian has just pressed on an open wound. 

“The spy?” Fabian whispers, now staring at ‘Scabbers’ with an expression of absolute horror. “The one who told Riddle and the Death Eaters exactly where Gid and Dorcas were going to be?”

“Among other things he chose to share, yes,” Remus answers, considering the rat dangling limply from his hand as though tempted to throw him against the wall. 

“I told you Pettigrew could transform into a rat, remember?” Regulus mutters. “They all became Animagi to help Remus, when they were at school. That was how he escaped when we confronted him last time.” 

“You mean to say,” Fabian whispers, his freckles standing out starkly as the colour drains from his face, “that every time I’ve gone to visit my sister and her kids over the past two years, the bastard was right there under my nose?” 

“That seems to be the gist of it, yep,” Regulus confirms. 

“Bit of a shame Reg was too socially awkward to ever visit your sister with you, really,” Remus pipes up. “I imagine he would have recognised Peter pretty quickly.” 

“Not all that helpful, actually, Lupin,” Regulus replies, scowling at him. 

“But…but why is Peter here?” Lily whispers, looking aghast. “How did he even know he would find us here?” 

“Well,” Remus answers, looking down at the rat with an expression of mingled rage and disgust, “I suppose he’s the only one who can answer that question. So…let’s see what Pete has to say for himself, shall we?” 

He places the unconscious rat down on the carpet again, none too gently, before looking up at his boyfriend.

“Together, Pads?” he asks quietly. 

“Obviously,” Sirius replies, walking to his side, his face set, fury burning in his grey eyes. 

Remus reaches out, squeezing Sirius’s free hand reassuringly; Sirius squeezes back. In perfect sync, the two of them raise their wands and point them at the limp rat. A blast of yellow light, and suddenly there’s a small, unconscious man lying on the carpet.

Regulus wrinkles his nose slightly; he hasn’t seen Peter Pettigrew for over two years, but clearly living perpetually in his Animagus form hasn’t done him many favours. His nails are long and filthy, his skin grubby, almost like the colour of his fur when he was ‘Scabbers’; it also seems somehow to be stretched too tightly across his bones, as though he doesn’t quite fit properly inside his human form anymore. He doesn’t smell especially wonderful, either. 

“Incarcerous,” Remus says quietly, his expression grim; thick ropes fly immediately from the tip of his wand, binding themselves tightly around the unconscious Pettigrew. 

James makes a small noise of distress; Remus turns to him, his face softening a little. 

“Just a precaution, Prongs,” he murmurs. 

James nods but doesn’t reply, wide hazel eyes fixed on his oldest friend, as though he desperately wants to look away from the sorry sight, but doesn’t know how. Lily moves closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. 

“Rennervate,” Remus mutters, raising his wand again. 

Slowly, Pettigrew stirs, opening his eyes groggily. He blinks a few times, apparently disoriented; Regulus can’t help but think that something of his Animagus form lingers around his small, watery and bloodshot eyes. 

A myriad of emotions flicker across the man’s face within a few short seconds; confusion, as he registers the number of people staring down at him. Panic, as he realises that he’s bound so he can barely move. A split second of genuine fear, as everyone - except James - draws their wands. Then, unnervingly, Pettigrew’s face goes almost completely blank, as though he’d flipped some switch to turn his emotions off. 

“Well, hello there, Peter,” Remus says conversationally. “Long time, no see.” 

Pettigrew looks up at him with that blank face - and that’s when Regulus notices a shadow of something calculating in the man’s pale eyes. Something cold and vindictive. This is another game of chess for him, he realises. He might know he can’t win this round, but he’s already strategising to ensure he can take some of them out with him. 

“Fabian here has just told us something rather interesting,” Remus continues. “I assume you didn’t catch any of it, given I’d just Stunned you. Apparently, a filthy rat mysteriously turned up at Molly and Arthur Weasley’s house about two and a half years ago. Funny, because that would be around about the time you transformed and scurried away from us, wouldn’t it? After Prongs saved your sorry little life and you repaid him by throwing him across the room, that is.” 

Pettigrew just keeps staring up at him with that shrewd, calculating look in his eyes. 

“Are we to take it, then,” Remus goes on, a quiet simmer of rage building in his voice, “that over the past two years, while we suffered and fought and almost died on numerous occasions - not to mention trying to deal with the repercussions of you turning out to be a double-crossing little bastard - you were sitting cushy at the Weasleys’, in your Animagus form that whole time? Just because you were too scared to face us, but you knew you couldn’t go back to your precious Lord either, having failed him? You needed to keep an ear out for news of how the war was progressing and whether Voldemort was desperate enough to take you back. Presumably, you chose the Weasleys because you needed news on the Order, but couldn’t risk staying with people who were too directly involved and might mention your appearance to one of us - but on the other hand, you couldn’t stay with any family with close links to the Death Eaters, either. Well? Does that about sum it up?” 

For a moment, Pettigrew just stares silently up at him, chest rising and falling rapidly. Then - incredibly, given his current predicament - he smirks. 

“You always did lay your essay points out very thoroughly, Moony.” His voice is scratchier, hoarser than Regulus remembers - but then, he supposes sacrificing the power of speech to live as a rat for two and a half years will do that to you. “Good. Top marks. Though you have missed one point.” Remus raises an eyebrow. “There was also an excellent supply of free food at the Weasleys’.” 

“Merlin,” Sirius interjects, with a humourless bark of laughter, “you really are pathetic, aren’t you, Wormy?”

Pettigrew turns his head to look back at him, and his face darkens with that same expression of venom, of pure hatred, that Regulus had seen him fix on Sirius two years ago. 

“Perhaps,” he says quietly. “But I still managed to outsmart you, didn’t I? Quite easily, I might add.” 

Sirius snarls, sounding almost like his Animagus form; he starts towards Pettigrew, but Remus reaches up to grip his arm, holding him back. 

For a long moment, a very nasty silence falls, Sirius and Peter staring at each other with the utmost loathing on their faces. 

“But how did you know to come here, Peter?” Lily asks finally, staring down at him with an expression of mingled fury, sadness and disgust. “How did you know we would be here?”

“He told me,” Wormtail answers, gesturing towards Fabian. “He brought me here, too.”

“What?” Fabian exclaims, horrorstruck. “I absolutely fucking did not do either of those things!” 

“I think you’ll find you did, actually,” Pettigrew responds, looking thoroughly amused at the look on his face. He turns back to Remus. “He came barging into Molly Weasley’s kitchen like a bloody hurricane, with that blonde girl trailing behind him,” he continues, gesturing at Meggie. “He announced that Sirius had come up with a plan to try and take the Dark Lord down, and that Sirius and Regulus had been ordered to meet him at the manor house in a Muggle town called Little Hangleton, for some reason. He said that Regulus didn’t want him to join them, but he needed to, apparently, both because he needed to avenge Gideon, and because he would go out of his mind with worry about Regulus if he stayed away.” 

His voice is dripping with sarcastic scorn, and Regulus is visited by a strong urge to throttle the bastard. 

“He promised his sister she had nothing to worry about, it wouldn’t be like Gideon all over again, he’d be back ‘for her and Gin and the boys.’ She shouted and screamed at him, obviously - from the sounds of it, she was pretty pissed off that he was allowing that girl to go with him, as well. Turned into a whole tedious shouting match - which provided a good distraction, to be fair, given that Fabian had helpfully left his big satchel open on the table. I was fairly certain, see, that if he brought me with him to the Dark Lord, I could explain exactly how Sirius and Regulus were planning to betray him, and he would have no choice but to forgive me for…any mistakes I might have made in the past.” 

“Shit,” Fabian whispers, his bright blue eyes widening in shock and guilt. 

“I waited until Fabian helpfully put the bag down, right here in this room. I knew the Dark Lord wasn’t best pleased with me, obviously, so I thought it best to wait for the moment of best advantage before revealing myself. Unfortunately,” he continues peevishly, “by the time Fab put the bag down, it looked like that moment had already passed. So I hung back quietly, waiting for another opening. When Narcissa and Andromeda announced that they’d put Bellatrix ‘out of the way’, I realised that, if I helped the bitch and revealed myself afterwards, it would turn the numbers in the Dark Lord’s favour again, and both of them would be indebted to me. That’s when I left the room to go looking for her.” 

“Damn it!” says Regulus loudly, making the others jump, “I knew I’d heard a weird noise!”

“Took me a bloody long time to find her,” Wormtail grumbles, as though Regulus hadn’t interrupted. “I don’t know the layout of this stupid Muggle house, obviously. The cellars are huge and dark, and as it turns out, these two are almost as insane as their sister.” He gestures to Narcissa and Andromeda. “They’d Stunned Bellatrix, tied her up and shoved her deep into a tiny cupboard. I transformed to untie her and wake her up; she wasn’t in the sweetest temper, as you might imagine, and she certainly wasn’t pleased to see me at first. But she came around pretty quickly when I explained I’d come to help her and the Dark Lord; she even let me hitch a ride inside her corset after I transformed again.” 

Pettigrew pauses at this, with a somewhat lascivious smirk; Regulus shudders, feeling rather nauseous and wondering whether it’s possible to erase the memory of that expression from his brain. But then Wormtail sighs glumly, the smirk - thankfully - vanishing. 

“I really did think untying Bellatrix would turn the tide,” he says. “I thought the Dark Lord would be immensely thankful for our help - for my help. I didn’t expect to find…that.” He gestures towards Riddle’s body, still staring vacantly up at the ceiling. He looks rather unnerved by the sight. “Plus, I’ll admit it didn’t occur to me that Bellatrix would be taken out. Suppose I’d forgotten how unhinged Sirius can be.” 

“That’s what I said,” Regulus informs him. “I never thought you and I would actually agree on something…Salazar, that’s depressing.” 

“You were at the Burrow at the same time as us?” Lily asks slowly, exchanging a look of horror with James, who looks suddenly somehow even more horrified than before. 

Peter looks up at her, comprehension slowly dawning on his face. 

“Us?” 

“We came with Fab and Meggie,” James whispers. “Me, Lils and Moony - we were there dropping Harry off. We were just in the other room, Arthur was helping us introduce him to the boys; he was quite nervous, he’s not used to being around other kids.”

“This bastard was only one room away from Harry?” Sirius gasps. “Prongs!” 

“Well, we didn’t know, Sirius, did we?” Lily snaps at him, looking immensely panicked at the thought of the near-miss, despite knowing her son is perfectly safe. “And luckily, it seems that Peter somehow managed to miss that fact, too; apparently it’s difficult to hear what’s happening in the next room when you’re inside Fabian’s bag.” 

“Luckily?” James repeats, with a small, nervous laugh. “Come off it, Lils - you’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting…?” 

Nobody replies - instead, everyone just looks at him with expressions ranging from awkward pity to impatience. 

“It is a shame I didn’t realise that,” Pettigrew mutters, clearly irritated at his oversight. 

James turns to stare at him, his hazel eyes wide and devastated. For a moment, he looks like a small, scared and heartbroken child. 

“Pete?” he whispers, almost begging the other man to prove Lily wrong. “You wouldn’t have hurt Harry, right? You’d never…not after everything we’ve been through…not my son…right?” 

For a fraction of a second, something flickers across Pettigrew’s face - something that almost looks like guilt. Shame. But a moment later, his expression hardens, the calculating look in his eyes returning; he shrugs. 

“Well, I’d just heard from Fabian exactly where the Dark Lord was planning to meet with Sirius and Regulus. Seems if I had just been a bit less hasty, I would have realised that you had also as good as handed me the very kid that the Dark Lord has been hunting for - quite the stroke of luck, given I never managed to persuade you to make me your Secret Keeper,” he adds, with more than a trace of bitter resentment. “Yes, the Dark Lord was pissed off at me; but I think his anger would have vanished pretty quickly if I’d exposed the plot against him, and brought him Harry into the bargain. But nothing to be done about that now, I s’pose,” he finishes, with a sigh. 

The last trace of colour has drained away from James’s face now; he’s staring at Pettigrew as though he’s a complete stranger. The smaller man rolls his eyes and tuts, as though it’s James who’s being unreasonable. 

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, James. I told you before, none of this is personal. It’s just…” He shrugs again, as much as he can when bound by ropes at least. “Good strategy.” 

James Potter’s face contorts suddenly with rage; muscle twitching in his jaw, his hazel eyes burning. 

“Lily?” he asks suddenly, his voice surprisingly calm as he carefully removes his ridiculous stag-patterned mittens. “Could you please hold these for me, just for a moment?” 

“What?” Lily asks, finally looking away from Pettigrew, frowning at her husband. “For Godric’s sake, Potter,” she huffs, even as she resignedly holds out her hand to take the mittens, “I’ve already had to listen to you harp on about your stupid bloody knitting patterns for weeks, now I have to hold the damn things for you as -”

James bends down, pulling Pettigrew into an upright position, draws his arm back, and snaps it forward, punching his oldest friend in the face with what appears to be all the force he can muster. Which is quite a lot, judging by the sickening crack as Pettigrew’s nose breaks. 

“...Actually, on second thought, that’s fine, I can hold them for you,” Lily amends, staring at James with a thoroughly appreciative expression on her face. 

“Ow!” Pettigrew shrieks, his eyes welling with tears of pain as blood pours from his nose. “What the fuck, Prongs?!” 

“I told you before - you don’t get to call me that anymore,” James tells him quietly, his voice colder than Regulus has ever heard it. “I tried to help you, Peter, I tried to give you a second chance. I tried so hard.” His voice shakes slightly, the heartbreak seeping through. “But I’m officially done trying now. In case that wasn’t clear.” 

“Marry me, Prongs?” Sirius asks, pretending to swoon. 

James looks up at him, making a valiant attempt at a grin. 

“I’m taken, Pads, remember?” He wiggles his hand to show off his wedding ring, his knuckle bruised and bloody. “And so are you, as I recall.” 

“Oh…right, yeah.” 

“That’s alright, I’ll allow it,” Remus chimes in, looking thoroughly impressed as he grins at James. “In fact, we’ll both marry you. I’m sure Lils won’t mind sharing.” 

“You can both fight me,” she replies, her lips twitching even as she narrows her eyes at him. 

“Thought you said the jury was still out on me?” James reminds Remus, his grin growing more genuine now. 

“Yeah, well, it’s back in now,” Remus replies with a shrug.

Exchanging a brief glance, Fabian and Regulus both walk over to the bound man on the floor. Jaw clenched, blue eyes blazing, Fabian swings his leg out and kicks Pettigrew in the stomach with full force. He doubles over, wheezing in pain, one hand still fruitlessly attempting to stem the blood flowing from his nose. 

“That’s for my brother,” Fabian tells him, voice thick with rage. 

Before Pettigrew can respond, Regulus has lifted his leg and stomped, as hard as he can, on his groin. Wormtail lets out a small noise somewhere between a sob and a whimper. 

“And that’s for my brother.” 

“But I’m right here?” Sirius reminds him, looking thoroughly delighted despite his confusion.

“I know that, idiot,” Regulus responds, rolling his eyes as Pettigrew continues to whimper. “But given you actually seemed to be showing some self-restraint for once in your life, I thought you might appreciate it if I did the honours for you.” 

Sirius’s grin widens. 

“I did show astonishing self-restraint, didn’t I? Guess I must be growing as a person.” 

“That, or you’re just exhausted.” 

“I’ve had a long night!” he answers indignantly. 

“We’ve all had a long night, Pads,” says Remus, rolling his eyes even as he presses a kiss to the top of Sirius’s head. “But it’s not over just yet,” he adds with a sigh, glaring down at Pettigrew. “I suppose we’ll have to take this bastard to the Ministry, won’t we? Hopefully it won’t take them too long to arrange a trial. He was pretty blunt about what a shitty excuse for a human being he is just now - and if I recall correctly, Dumbledore left Reg his Pensieve. So even if Pete doesn’t cooperate with a confession, they’ll hardly be short on memories from witnesses, if they need evidence.” 

The last bit of colour drains from Pettigrew’s face at that. 

“How do we make sure he doesn’t transform again?” Regulus asks. 

“I’d like to see him try, in this state,” Narcissa points out wryly, gesturing to the ropes binding him, the way he’s doubled over in agony with blood still pouring from his nose. She and Andromeda move closer to him, both wands trained on him; Meggie follows suit.  

“Fair point,” Regulus concedes, with a small grin. 

“Alright - but after that, I think we should all have a rest, preferably for at least thirty hours,” Fabian pipes up. “We’re going to need it.” 

“Why’s that?” Regulus asks him. 

“Well, I don’t know if you noticed this, Reg, but there have actually been quite a few developments in this room tonight,” Fabian responds, grinning at him in that way that makes his heart skip several beats, every damn time. 

He gestures around the room - at the dead bodies of Riddle and Bellatrix, the huge snake with its head lying a few feet away from its body, the bloodstained sword of Gryffindor, Pettigrew trussed up and bleeding on the carpet. 

“Just wait until the Ministry and the Prophet get wind of this. I have a feeling that Rita Skeeter is going to have quite the field day…”