Chapter 4
Before they notice, September comes around with grey clouds chasing the sun around the sky, drizzles and strong winds, and a few storms that catch them by surprise. And much too soon, it’s time for them to pack and return to the dreary reality of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.
Their mother is coming home.
Regulus drags his feet as he and Sirius go upstairs to the guest bedroom, that, over the past month, they have made their own. Looking around the room, with its soft olive green walls, the plush rug on the floor and the view of the beach, Regulus feels heaviness settling in his stomach, like a ball around his ankle that drags him deeper and deeper into darkness.
In the past few weeks, Cassie’s cottage has become more of a home than their house in London has ever been; even the mere thought of leaving it makes Regulus’ heart clench painfully.
They throw things into their trunk without much care or thought, a sombre silence looming between them. The breakfast today has been subdued, too. Father and Uncle Alphard barely spoke, only kept glancing at each other with the same worried and sullen looks on their faces. And even the cats were quiet, twisting around their ankles beneath the table as they softly begged for scraps from the table.
“I can’t believe summer’s over,” Sirius says as he throws a book into their trunk. He crosses the room to sit on his bed that looks empty without the bedding, toys and clothes all over it. Sirius picks Alphard’s camera from his bedside table and plays idly with it as he sulks.
Regulus shifts Jupiter a little and lies down on his bed, abandoning the packing. With his fingers running through Jupiter’s fur, he says, “There’s always next year, though.” He tries to sound hopeful and reassuring. “Father seems to like it here. Maybe we can ask him if we could come again next summer?”
Sirius shrugs and looks through the window, staring at the willow tree in Cassie’s garden before his eyes meet Regulus’ briefly. There’s a fear lurking in them, a tension at their imminent return home, and, Regulus suspects, mother’s arrival. Regulus stays quiet, waiting for his brother to gather his thoughts.
“What if she will be the same as before?” Sirius murmurs, brushing his finger absently over the camera’s lens.
Neither of them knows what to expect; how their mother will act now that, according to Grandmother Irma’s letter, she’s all well again. She can be back to her old self, or the version they’ve seen when father has been ill. But maybe, she will be better and kinder; perhaps, she went through a change, same as their father during his illness.
Regulus wants to be optimistic. He made a wish two weeks ago, during the night of shooting stars, lying on the blanket at the beach, tucked between Sirius and their father. The last time he has made a wish, it came true, and Regulus wants to believe it will come true this time too. He doesn’t say that to Sirius, though. Instead, he clears his throat and, trying to sound as comforting as possible, he says, “we will still have each other. And father. And Uncle Alphard.”
Sirius’ answering smile is a tiny, almost unnoticeable lift of the corners of his lips; it’s there, though, like a sparkling star on the inky black sky.
***
Returning to Grimmauld Place feels like plunging into the deep, dark waters of a murky lake. The chill seeps through his skin, freezing Regulus’ blood and turning his bones into ice blocks, and he struggles to take a breath.
Kreacher appears to take their luggage, and Regulus carefully sets Jupiter on the floor. The cat sniffs the floor and sneezes before glancing up at Regulus with wide, bright green eyes that are full of misery. Regulus shrugs apologetically.
“Open the windows, Kreacher,” father says, regarding the elf with disdain. “Even the cat can’t stand it. What were you doing the whole time we were gone?”
Kreacher bows, muttering something under his nose, too quiet for Regulus to hear. “Mistress has left Kreacher tasks to do,” he says louder, glancing at Orion. Much to Regulus surprise, the look Kreacher gives his father lacks the usual admiration the elf bestows upon family members. It’s still respectful, but something’s missing.
Father frowns. “What tasks?” He asks with suspicion.
“Kreacher has been cleaning the paintings and sorting the attic and helping Master Pollux at the house.”
Uncle Alphard snorts at this. “Of course, my father can’t do anything without a house elf at his beck and call. No surprise Tipsy died out of exhaustion at such a young age, poor thing.”
Father sighs and rubs his temples. They barely got back home, and he already looks tired, the strength he has regained at Cassie’s cottage evaporating with every second. “Well, clean our house now,” he orders sternly.
Mother, Grandmother and Aunt Cassie are in the drawing-room. Cassie sits a little to the side, sipping tea as she flips through some magazine. Although she has just returned from the holidays in France, she looks worn out. Grandmother’s whispering into mother’s ear but stops when they step into the room. She clears her throat loudly. “They’re here, Walburga.”
Mother stands up, smoothing her dark green robes with her hands. She looks better; her black hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders, shiny and smooth once again, and some colour has returned to her face. Perhaps, she really has been ill, Regulus thinks and immediately feels guilty for not doing anything about it. They’ve seen it and stayed quiet, convinced it’s the best thing to do when perhaps, they should have tried to tell someone and get help.
Her eyes sweep over Regulus, a brief look that shows little interest, but when her gaze finds Sirius, a smile lights up her face. Regulus tries to ignore the stab of jealousy. He leans against his father’s chest and reminds himself that, with Orion, there are no favourites.
Mother steps closer, brushing her hand against Sirius’ cheek. “You need a haircut,” she says. Her fingers sweep over Sirius’ hair, gentle and loving.
As if sensing the envy pouring off Regulus, father’s hand tightens on Regulus’ shoulder, pulling him closer. He holds Regulus protectively and almost possessively. Clearing his throat, Orion breaks the moment between Sirius and Walburga. “How do you feel?” he asks with a strange stiffness in his voice.
The smile slides from mother’s lips. “Better,” she replies just as stiffly. Something flickers in her eyes, some emotion that Regulus cannot name. It sends a shiver down his spine.
Mother and father continue to stare at each other, neither willing to give in and look away first. Regulus fidgets, uncomfortable. He wants to grasp Sirius’ hand or hide under his father’s arm, but he’s afraid to move, to draw attention to himself.
“Come on, boys, let’s give your parents a few minutes to talk.” Cassie ushers them out of the room under the pretence of wanting to see Regulus’ new cat. She taps Alphard on the shoulder. “You too, Ally. I need you to tell me how my rose garden is faring.”
Alphard follows, though he looks like leaving Orion alone with Grandmother Irma and Walburga is the last thing he wants to do. Deep inside, Regulus agrees with him. He knows nothing is going to happen, but it doesn’t stop the dread from pooling in the pit of his stomach as Cassie shuts the door behind them with a soft click.
***
At breakfast the next day, Regulus shifts his chair a little closer to his father’s, not wanting to let go of the closeness they’ve found at the cottage. Still, he feels as if it’s slipping through his fingers, almost like water or sand, a fading memory of better times. Even the warmth radiating off his father’s body doesn’t help to chase away the unpleasant feeling that nags him since yesterday.
“Are you going to see Arcturus today?” Mother asks as she spreads marmalade on her toast. She doesn’t raise her eyes as she speaks, her gaze fixed on the knife in her hand and the sticky, crimson jelly on her bread, but her voice is overly polite. Whatever they discussed yesterday has made them try to be respectful towards each other, but it feels forced and fake. They’re like two people who hate each other but have to sit next to each other at a formal dinner. “You can’t postpone it forever,” she says and looks up, staring at father with ice in her eyes. “Remember what we decided yesterday.”
Father grips the bridge of his nose and sighs loudly. “I will stop at Blackfort after dinner.”
Regulus bites his lip. He knew the time would come when Grandfather Arcturus would summon Orion to Blackfort, when father would have to return to work, but he didn’t expect it to be so soon. Already, he dreads the day when Orion will pack his suitcase and go to deal with some errand for Grandfather Arcturus, leaving Regulus and Sirius at home with Walburga.
She huffs. “If you wait until after dinner, he will come here. I don’t want to hear his complaints. There’s nothing to do here for you, anyway. The boys and I are going to be busy.”
Sirius perks up. He looks at her with big, hopeful eyes. “With what?” He asks.
“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” Walburga chastises him. “I’ll be tutoring you and your brother. It’s about time, or you’ll go to Hogwarts completely clueless. You’re almost eight; at your age, I had a tutor for at least a year already. Regulus can start learning how to read, I guess,” she says, sweeping her eyes over Regulus briefly before looking away, unimpressed with what she saw.
“I can read.”
“You stutter over every other word. That’s not reading.”
Regulus looks down at the table, suddenly not hungry. The eggs and toast he has eaten feel heavy in his stomach.
Father clenches his hand. “Don’t speak to him that way,” he says sharply. “He is six years old.”
“Yes, and at his age, you and I both have read flawlessly. Sirius too,” she adds, though it’s not true. She pauses to take a bite of her toast, and then, with an air of someone who has the winning card in hand, she says, “I’m responsible for their education before Hogwarts. That’s your father’s decision, and you know he will expect nothing but perfection from them. Do you really want Arcturus to interfere when he decides his grandsons are not up to his standards?” The words sound like a threat. Satisfaction shines in her eyes, bright and gleeful as she holds Orion’s gaze.
After a long moment, father nods, much to Regulus’ surprise; the gesture somehow feels like a betrayal.
***
Time goes on. Everything seems alright. Until it’s not.
They start the lessons with their mother. It’s mostly Sirius mumbling French words or fumbling at the piano under mother’s watchful eyes, with Regulus sitting in the corner and memorising every name mentioned in Nature’s Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. Both mother and Sirius ignore him most of the time, and for once, Regulus prefers to be ignored; it’s better than being the object of mother’s scrutiny.
Every day, she forces Sirius onto the piano bench, and with her fingers digging into Sirius’ shoulders, she orders him to play. Every day, she looks more and more annoyed as Sirius fails to follow her instructions. Music seems to be the one thing Sirius cannot learn despite all the time and effort he puts into the task.
It’s dreadful to watch it unfold in front of his eyes as if it’s some scary story with a horrible ending. Mother’s patience bleeds out of her with every note Sirius’ misses, and Sirius’ eyes grow more and more haunted with her every whisper or cutting remark. Regulus knows the fragile peace won’t last long.
September and October pass by. The trees outside their house fill with vibrant autumn colours of honey gold, red and fiery orange.
Three days before Sirius’ birthday, father pokes his head into their room. He looks haggard, with dark circles under his eyes and a face that’s too pale and too thin. Regulus’ stomach makes an unpleasant flip as he notices the change in his father’s appearance, and the crippling feeling of guilt spreads within him.
Grandfather Arcturus wanted Orion to return to work again, to look for some long-lost family heirlooms. Orion refused and sent Uncle Alphard in his stead while he stayed at home, overseeing the search from his study. Regulus has been ecstatic at first, but perhaps, he shouldn’t have been. Perhaps, it would be easier for their father to go away. Then, he wouldn’t have to work late every day and deal with mother and Grandfather Arcturus’ constant complaints at the same time. Perhaps, then, he wouldn’t be wasting away in front of their eyes, killing himself to satisfy everybody’s wants and needs. Maybe if Orion left, he wouldn’t look so tired and worn out, stretched too thin like a man who tries to accomplish too many things at the same time.
Father looks around, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips; then, his eyes land on Sirius and the smile slides off his face.
Sirius sits, curled on the windowsill with his sketchbook in his lap. His fingers move carefully over the page. He’s silent and brooding and lost in his head, creating yet another breath-taking landscape in the shades of black, grey, maroon and purple.
Father frowns. “Everything’s alright?” he asks.
Regulus looks at his brother and sees the same thing their father sees. Sirius is shrinking, getting smaller and smaller like a star that’s about to burn out too early. He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, he catches a tiny, almost unnoticeable shake of Sirius’ head. You promised not to say anything, Sirius’ eyes seem to say.
“Sirius?” Father asks again.
Sirius shrugs. “Just a headache.”
Father crosses the room and touches Sirius’ forehead gently. A frown appears between his brows. “You don’t have a fever.”
Sirius shrugs again, looking miserable. “Maybe it’s the weather.”
Father pauses for a second, looking at Sirius with worried eyes. “You should lie down. I’ll tell your mother you’re not feeling well.” Regulus lets out a relieved breath at this.
Sirius scrambles off the windowsill onto his bed, and Orion covers him with a blanket. “You know you can tell me if anything’s wrong?” father whispers.
Sirius lets a tiny cough before an almost believable smile appears on his lips. Regulus knows it’s fake only because he has seen Sirius put on the happy face every day for the past month, and by now, is well acquainted with the look. “I know,” Sirius says and closes his eyes, pretending he’s about to fall asleep.
Father stays for a bit longer, running his fingers through Sirius’ hair. He turns around and looks at Regulus. “Is everything alright?”
Behind their father, Sirius’ eyes blink open. He stares at Regulus, forcing him to stay quiet.
Regulus looks at Orion and swallows down everything he wants to say. He nods his head.
When Orion leaves the room sometime later, Regulus falls onto his pillow and groans. He hates to lie. Jupiter gives a pitiful meow from under the bed before pouncing on Regulus’ stomach. Even the cat is unhappy at Grimmauld Place. Ever since Regulus’ saw the disgusted grimace on Walburga’s face at the sight of the cat wandering around the house, he keeps Jupiter locked in their bedroom.
“Wouldn’t it be better, to tell the truth?”
Sirius rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling. “What truth?”
“That we’re miserable; you’re miserable,” Regulus huffs. “That mother’s lessons are terrible, and we hate it. That you don’t want to learn French or how to play the piano, and I don’t want to learn every name in Nature’s Nobility.”
“Stop whining, Reg,” Sirius snaps, clenching his fists. “All you need to do is read the stupid book. It can’t be that bad. Why are you the one who complains the most?”
For a heartbeat, Regulus stays still, then his eyes start to sting, and he blinks the tears forcibly away. “I just hate to see you so sad,” he murmurs and sniffs.
Sirius takes a deep breath through his nose and exhales slowly with his eyes closed. “I’m sorry, Reg. I didn’t want to snap at you. It’s just,” he pauses and starts picking at his cuticles. A habit he has developed over the past few weeks. Regulus wants to tell him to stop, knowing that mother will be furious when she finds out, but stays quiet, giving Sirius time to organise his thoughts in peace. With a sigh, Sirius continues, “I just don’t want it to get worse. I can handle this. And you haven’t heard what mother said about her tutor. He was awful. Grandfather Arcturus already thinks we’re too soft, and mother said that he’s only waiting for us to start complaining. The moment we do, he’s going to hire some wizard from Germany, who will,” he says, making the quoting gesture with his fingers, “set us straight.”
Regulus curls around his pillow, cradling it to his chest. “Father wouldn’t allow it,” he says.
Sirius shakes his head. “Father can’t do anything about it. Grandfather is the head of the family, and his word is the law – that’s what mother said. That’s why father agreed to the lessons in the first place; because he had no other choice. And mother says that Grandfather is really cross with father right now because father refuses to do something Grandfather wants him to do. She said he’s holding father on a tight leash, whatever that means. Besides,” Sirius adds after a moment in a whisper so soft it’s barely audible, “if we tell father, they will start fighting again.”
The past two months have been oddly quiet. Regulus would like to say it has been a peaceful time, but it’d be a lie. It’s ominous, like the silence before the storm. All they do is wait for the first lightning to strike.
***
“Again,” mother snaps, glaring at the back of Sirius’ head. Today, she’s even less patient than usual.
The past few days have thankfully been lessons-free due to Sirius’ headaches and Sirius’ birthday that they’ve spent with father at the Reserve for Magical Creatures in Wales. Regulus allowed himself to forget about the tension-filled music room and mother’s cutting voice. It has been bliss, but now as he sits in the music room, half-hidden behind his book, he feels worse than ever. For a moment, they were happy, only to have that happiness snatched out of their fingers.
Sirius tries again. Near the end of the song that Sirius learns to play from memory, his finger hits the wrong key, and Walburga’s face twists with fury.
“Again,” she almost growls.
Sirius tries, again and again. With each failed attempt, Walburga’s voice grows sharper until Sirius all but shakes on the piano bench, hands trembling and chin quivering as he tries not to cry. Walburga seems not to notice it or care. Instead, she offers words like “abysmal”, “pathetic”, or “simply horrible”.
Regulus looks at the scene from his corner, and something inside of him snaps. “Stop it!” he shouts shrilly. Anger, guilt, misery and fear that has been gathering inside of him for the past three months explode. The walls shake, the lamps flicker, and one of the windows shatters, shards of glass falling onto the floor. There’s a ringing in Regulus’ ears. Without even realising what he’s doing, Regulus is on his feet, running across the room to stand between Sirius and Walburga. “Leave him alone! Can’t you see you’re upsetting him?”
A hollow silence falls all over the room, and for a moment, no one moves. Regulus is panting, exhausted by the burst of accidental magic, but he forces himself to stand straight. Sirius has stood up for him so many times, protected him, and now, it’s time for Regulus to return the favour, to be brave and fierce and unafraid.
Walburga blinks, momentarily surprised by his outburst. Then, she pushes Regulus away with so much force he tumbles to the floor. Her hand travels to her wand, and she raises it, glaring at Regulus with eyes drowning in a mad fury.
“Experliarmus!” Father’s voice cuts through the room. The wand flies out of mother’s hand, and Orion catches it effortlessly. His fingers tighten around it, and something dark flashes through father’s eyes. Then, he snaps Walburga’s wand in half. “Get away from my sons,” he says.
Mother’s shaking with anger, but she takes a few steps back, eyes fixed on father with a strange look of curiosity shining in them.
Father looks them over, searching for injuries, but apart from being scared, they’re fine. “Sirius, take Regulus to your bedroom,” he says.
Sirius rushes over to Regulus, helps him stand up and drags him out of the room. Even before they reach their bedroom on the fourth floor, the shouting starts, angry voices booming through the, until now, hollowly silent house.
Still holding hands, Sirius leads Regulus to his bed and covers them with a blanket as if he wants to hide them from the world around them. They lie there for hours, clutching each other desperately and trying to muffle out the sounds of their parents’ argument.
It’s late when the shouting finally stops, and Orion, looking exhausted and drained, comes into their bedroom. The moment he steps into the room and pauses at their bed, apologies start to spill from his lips. Regulus can’t barely understand the words falling from his father’s mouth, a never-ending string of guilt and regrets, apologies for failing them once again, for not doing more and for thousand other things.
He pushes his face into Orion’s chest, breathing in the calming scent that reminds him of the sun and ocean and days spent on the beach. By now, the memories of past summer are nothing but a blur in his head.
Sirius is the first to break the silence. “What will happen now?” he asks in a tiny, barely audible voice.
Father leans his chin on Sirius’ head and takes a deep breath. “Tomorrow, you’ll go to Cassie’s house or Lucretia’s, and I will go to speak with your Grandfather.” He pulls back a little to catch Sirius’ eyes. “I will not let this happen again.”
“But-” Sirius starts, and Regulus knows what his brother wants to say. Will Grandfather do anything about it? They both have heard what their mother has said tonight. Do you think Arcturus will do anything? Allow another scandal after his father almost brought ruin to the whole family? You’re trapped. She laughed too, a burst of cruel, cold laughter that set goosebumps on Regulus’ shoulders.
“No buts. I will not allow this behaviour ever again.”
***
They don’t sleep that night. After Orion tucks them in, Sirius wraps his arms around Regulus and hides his face in the crook of his neck. “Thanks for protecting me,” he murmurs.
“You’re my brother,” Regulus whispers back. “I should have done that earlier.” He will never forgive himself for not standing up to their mother sooner, for not speaking out, for leaving Sirius to bear the burden of her ire. “I will always protect you,” he promises both to himself and Sirius. He will never fail his brother again. Never.
“I’m older. It’s my job to look after you, not the other way around.”
Regulus rolls his eyes, though only because he knows Sirius can’t see it. He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, a dull noise from the staircase drifts into their room through the walls. Sirius sits up. Even in the darkness, Regulus notices his eyes are wide and alert.
Silence; then Kreacher’s loud wail rings through the house.
Sirius is out of bed before Regulus can blink, running out of the room and down the stairs with surprising speed. Heart in his throat, Regulus follows, stumbling after his brother. He nearly catches up to him on the third floor and slows down when he notices Sirius isn’t moving. Instead, he’s standing, stiff and white-faced, and stares at something at the bottom of the stairs with impossibly wide eyes.
Regulus hears father running up the staircase. “Stay where you are, Regulus,” father shouts without looking at him. His eyes are glued to Sirius, whose face is frozen in a look of horror. “Close your eyes, Sirius. Don’t look,” Orion says, but Sirius doesn’t move, doesn’t close his eyes or even blink, doesn’t do anything.
He knows he shouldn’t look, but it’s as if some invisible force is pushing him to do this. Slowly, he turns his head and looks down. Someone’s lying on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. He sees black hair spread on the floor like a halo around a pale face. He sees a puddle of blood, getting bigger and bigger with each heartbeat. Finally, he sees his mother’s empty, lifeless eyes.