"I hope he hasn't beaten any of mine. If my picture isn't still the trophy case, Dumbledore will be getting some strongly written anonymous letters." Regulus was sure someone had beaten his records and achievements because of course, it was bound to happen but he felt like that was the only real legacy he had. Good at quidditch, bad at being a death eater.

He came over to the articles on the wall and looked at the headlines, remembering how his mother would smile when he asked to take the paper so he could put it up. He would have done anything to make her proud but she never was. Wasn't proud, didn't love him.

Ripping the articles off the wall felt good. He grabbed them in his fist and yanked them off, leaving marks on the wall as the dried paint cracked off with the tape. It felt so good. He balled them up in his hands and turned to Sirius, his eyes had tears in them but he didn't want to admit to that. "You got a godson? You're like a proper adult now and everything."