Sirius heard a voice in the silence of the house. Most people might have been alarmed, but Sirius was used to voices. Some in his head, some from whatever haunting misery was still trapped in this house, just like his mother.
He was lying on the ground in his old room, staring at the ceiling and abandoning a bottle of fire whiskey when he sat up. It was likely to be nothing, but he couldn't dismiss it either. Could be important. Could be dangerous. Could just be in his head and further proof of how gone he was, that too.
He stared at the door and frowned, imagining that he could hear footsteps. Actually hearing footsteps. Wand in hand, he rose to his feet, quietly making his way out the door. Just enough to see movement. Then he didn't hesitate. "STUPEFY!"
If it was an Order member who just forgot to properly announce themselves, they deserved to be stunned too.
Sirius rushed down the stairs, moving next to where the man had fallen. He still didn't recognise him as an ally, so it was the logical next step to use another spell to bind him, only then actually using a tight grip on his shoulder to turn him around. He took the wand from the man and then stared at his face. Familiar. In the truest sense of the word.
Could he trust his own perception? Hardly. Too often had Harry looked like James to him. He knew his mind wasn't what it should be. With a scoff, Sirius moved to stand above the man, wand aimed at him as he cast a spell to wake him up.
Well. That hurt. Feeling a bit knocked sideways, Regulus groaned in pain and wondered if this was actually a good idea. Seemed brilliant in theory but in execution, quite dangerous. Probably should have told Barty or at least given him a heads up - left a note or something.
Unable to move his arms or legs, he left himself being rolled onto his back and looked up at the man looming over him. It took a few moments to even recognise him but there was no doubting who it was.
"Sirius?" He looked rougher than expected, bit older than he predicted too and he reeked of booze. Bloody hell, did he take a shower in whiskey or something? Recoiling a little, he tried to shuffle away and get some ground, some space to properly deal with this. What did he say to make this less insane.
"Sirius, it's me. Undo this at once! I can explain. I know this seems weird but it's me. It really is."
"It's who?" Whoever it was, Sirius could certainly tell who they were masquerading as. In his head, in reality, in some messed up scheme that he couldn't even begin to understand. He cast a 'Revelio' spell, but the disguise didn't fade. Still looked like Regulus. Or what Regulus would have looked like. The boy who never got to be a man.
Of course he didn't let him go, he wasn't stupid. Instead he aimed his wand at the man's arm, using a spell to uncover that. Dark Mark. No hiding that. That answered that question.
"I'm Regulus! Don't you recognise me?" He supposed not. Regulus knew what Sirius was doing and he winced as the Dark Mark came out on show, barely visible behind his sleeve. Of course he'd focus on that. Great. "I can't explain what happened, I don't get it myself but I'm here, I'm back." He kind of wanted Sirius to recognise him cause he had some crazy look in his eyes. Seriously, he was off his rocker... what the hell had happened to him?
"I drowned, I know. I know it seems crazy, I know I shouldn't be here but it's me." And he was kind of afraid. His brother shouldn't look like this. This wasn't the Sirius he knew or expected. No smile, his hair was a mess and he wasn't blabbering on about something. "I'll prove it if you don't believe me."
"No. You shouldn't be here." For so many reasons. But it added up, Sirius supposed. Why this man would even get in. Why, still, the house didn't react in any hostile way, none of the wards seemed alarmed. Old, ancient magic, overriding even the spell power of Albus Dumbledore. That same magic that had allowed him to reluctantly take possession of the place.
"You are not a ghost." He could ascertain that much. "No inferius or zombie either."
So what was he? Sirius eyed him with suspicion, no joy over seeing his brother again sinking in just yet. Maybe it was too surreal. It seemed like a trap. "Hello, Regulus. Last I heard, you turned your back on your lord. What is it now?"
"I'm back, I -- my soul came back first and then the rest of me." He wasn't going to mention Barty, that could stay with him. This wasn't a visit to air all his secrets, he'd just wanted to see how things were. And they were clearly not great. "And he's not my lord." Not by a longshot. He sneered at the thought and looked away, eyeing up the room curiously.
"You could have cleaned. Mother would have gone spare if she saw this mess." She always had everything the way she liked it, right down to what socks her sons wore that day and where exactly the knives and forks sat. Everything was controlled. "Where's Kreacher?" He wanted to see he was alive and well, as Barty had promised.
"Dunno. Shopping, I reckon. Who knows what that creep gets up to?" Sirius shrugged his shoulders, not overly concerned. "Mother's portrait is screaming around somewhere too, maybe you can have a talk about my shortcomings. Be like old times."
Sirius laughed, not particularly joyously. This was insane. He was insane. He wished he had someone else here, some way to tell this was real. However, there was one thing that tripped him up. Because, yes, he knew that Regulus had allegedly stopped following Voldemort before dying, but hearing it stated like that, even seeing him sneer at the thought of it...
That didn't seem like something his imagination would have provided. Entirely too hopeful. "So you are a traitor too. You were always a latebloomer."
"Suppose I am. You must be loving it, me making a mistake." Mother would have not been best pleased. She was in a portrait so she must have died, as he suspected... he wasn't sure how he felt about that. Relief, oddly, was the first thing he felt. He could finally breathe, knowing he didn't have that to confront. "I might be a latebloomer but you've aged badly. All that drinking and partying caught up to you, did it?"
Explained the booze smell and the tired eyed. Did he ever sleep? Huffing, Regulus squirmed in his bonds. "Untie me. I wish to talk and I won't talk to you like this."
"You've made a lot of mistakes. I always reckoned you had just made one too many." Sirius tucked Regulus' wand away in his pocket, definitely confiscating that, no matter what else he might do with him. "But then, I've made more mistakes. Worse."
He could admit to that. In his opinion, his mistakes outweighed those of most anyone. "Yeah. Partying."
There was a smile and Sirius shook his head. "It's been a non-stop party since the day you died, all right."
He stared down at Regulus and the last thing he felt like doing was untying him. But there was the thought in his head. What would James do? And so he waved his wand, letting the ropes vanish.
"Oh yeah, you and Potter, I'm sure. Getting pissed about town like a bunch of bleeding muggles. I can see it now." Regulus sat upright, adjusting his shirt and looking up at his brother. Damn, he had his wand - now he had to try and get it back from him. Awkward bastard. Slowly, he pulled himself to his feet and dusted himself off. "Some warm welcome home this was."
Not that he ever expected one. He didn't know what he expected. Not this.
And definitely not his brother looking like that. Peering around, he looked anywhere but Sirius because it was much easier to focus beyond him. "I was just curious who was left out of our family. Thought I'd pop by, see who was living."
Sirius pressed his lips together, the mention of James being enough to tear at him. He had no defence against that, of course not. It was strange, seeing that glimpse of what his life could have been, at least through his brother's eyes. He remembered a drunken night flying through London and avoiding muggle police with James. Something like that, perhaps.
Well. His life had been war and there was nothing like that. But James would have deserved better. James should be alive. Lily. Yet here they were instead. "It's only me. Carrying on the name of Black."
He smiled weakly. "Although now you're here, so maybe hurry up and get married."
"I'm dead to most people and I'd like to keep it that way. I don't intend to continue the family. I wasn't intending to see anyone but I can't help but wonder about this old place. After all, I left some things in my room I'd rather like to keep." He didn't have a lot there he wanted but he needed an excuse to be here besides being worried for his big brother.
He didn't like the look in his eyes. They were hollow and pained. What happened to him? He wanted to ask but it was too much to ask because he was scared of the answer. Something bad happened. He made no joke about James, he didn't smile yet or hug him. This was wrong. It hurt more than it should have.
"Bold assumption. That I'd let you leave." Because Sirius knew he shouldn't. There wasn't really any protocol in place for his brother coming back from the dead, but it meant that Grimmauld Place had been compromised. He would have to warn everyone and he had no idea where it would leave him. Leave them.
But for now, he had Regulus right here, consequences could wait. Slowly it became more real. His brother was here and not just a memory to haunt him. Not another manifestation of guilt. "Your room is just as dorky as you left it. You really want a reminder of that?"
"I'd get out one way or another. You should make it easier for yourself." Regulus wasn't going to back down and besides, he didn't want to get stuck here. Barty wouldn't be best pleased. Not that he'd be thrilled about any of this in the first place. Rolling his eyes at his brother, he shoved by him lightly and headed for the stairs.
Truth was, he wished he was more like Sirius right now. He wished he could hug his brother, to smile and goad him to do the same. He wasn't like that though, he didn't know what to do.
So he went up to his room and walked away from him.
And it was the same. His room was the same as ever. He didn't enter, he just stood in the doorway and looked around, struck suddenly by grief. The last time he saw this was before he died. Eighteen years ago. A whole lifetime. It looked so familiar and safe but it was tainted by what he knew now and what he felt. The articles of the Dark Lord on his wall stood as a grim reminder of his own naivety. He finally moved himself over the threshold, looking around the room and feeling a strange mix of happiness and sadness. He looked at the picture of himself, a seeker on his broom, and smiled sadly as he traced the image. What might he have been if he'd lived and succeeded?
What might Sirius of been? Would he be himself? What happened in his life to make him like that? Was this why Barty never told him - was it that bad?
Sirius stayed in the doorway watching Regulus, still trying to process this. And, oh, it was a lot to process. He barely ever looked into this room, because like most rooms in this house, barring his own, it made him feel miserable. He hated being here, he had always hated being here. He wondered how Regulus felt about it. Truthfully, he realised, probably not that much different. Neither of them had gotten to experience much happiness here.
His happiness had been in school and, later, with the Potters. All of that was long gone and it had faded, it was astonishing how well the misery managed to cling by comparison.
He looked at the picture Regulus was inspecting. "My godson's seeker. For Gryffindor. He's beaten some records."
"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."
"Sixteen years ago. More or less." Sirius saw Regulus' tears and something stirred inside him. That was his little brother. Somehow, impossibly, it was his little brother. Back in this house, back in his room, and he was crying. Something broke inside him then too and even if he didn't cry, he pushed away from the doorway and walked into the room, walked up to his brother.
He pulled him into his arms, cupping the back of his head as he held him close. "It's all right, Reg."
His little brother, so eager to please his parents. Ripping off these articles. "'m proud of you."
Regulus swallowed hard as he forced his emotions as far down as he could, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. It was just all so much. Everyone had aged and moved on, life was pushing forward and everyone he knew had that same look in their eyes. Misery, pain, hurt. Even Sirius. When he pictured his brother, he saw a stupid smile that grated his nerves, not the misery he was drowning in now. He gripped the balled up papers harder now, trembling with anger and sadness.
"It's not all right. Nothing is all right. Does anything look all right to you? The world is cruel and terrible. Nothing is right here!"
"I reckon the world's always been cruel and terrible. You are just finally catching up." Sirius was smiling a little now, because, hey. Bitter humour fit him well these days. "Come on, Reg. I've got fire whiskey in my room."
Plenty of reason why his room was his favourite, but the whiskey, at the moment, definitely not least of all. "The war isn't over, but you are probably right. It's never going to be all right for us. Best I'm hoping for is making it all right for the people that come after us."
"What a load of rot. Who cares about the idiots who come after us?" Regulus tossed the paper onto the floor and sniffed, trying to hide his wet eyes by swiftly rubbing at them like he was annoyed instead. "That Gryffindor selflessness gets tedious after a while. It's smart to think of yourself sometimes."
Because clearly he hadn't been doing that lately. He looked at Sirius for a moment and the smiled faintly as he tried to think of what to say. "Sirius..."
He swallowed. He wanted to say 'I love you and I missed you' but he was a Black. It didn't happen. "...I really wish you'd gotten a haircut."
"My hair is my crowning glory," Sirius stated, running a hand through it. Or trying to, his fingers got a little tangled. All right, maybe it could stand a wash and some combing, but he couldn't bring himself to really give a damn. "You weren't thinking of yourself when you died either, Reg. What's that, some Gryffindor tendencies?"
Of course he had to tease him. He was still himself, however much he might have lost.
"You don't know that. For all you know, I did it all for myself. And I did. For the record, I'm as slytherin as they come." How dare he accuse him of being brave and noble? That bastard! Regulus lightly shoved his brother away and rolled his eyes, heading out of his room. "Come on, get me drunk. I only ever had a taste of whiskey once."
He was eighteen for about a month before he died so he hadn't had much chance to drink. "Besides, this place has always been depressing, maybe it's easier to be in with some booze."
"Most things are easier with booze. Until the hangover hits you, anyway." Sirius shrugged and opened the door to his own room, letting Regulus in. Radically different decoration than Regulus there, between Gryffindor banners and muggle chicks on bikes, but personally he still much preferred it. Certain juvenile charm, he'd say. He grabbed the bottle from the floor and handed it to Regulus.
"I'll try not to." He took the drink and sat down on Sirius' bed, sipping some of it and then he paused, his eyes widened a little and he choked it down, trying to pretend like he didn't mind it but dear God, it was like drinking paint thinner. What was wrong with Sirius?! Blargh. Pulling a face, he gave Sirius a look.
"Is this... a prank? That was bloody revolting." He held the bottle back out to him.
"Nah. You pranked yourself by never getting used to it." To prove his point, Sirius put the bottle to his lips and tilted his head back, drinking a bit more eagerly than he probably should have. Then he set the bottle back down and shrugged. "You get used to it."
Maybe that was it. He had started to no longer be used to not having it, which was a different problem. "I made a promise, I'm only allowed to empty one of these bottles. So you better be happy that I'm willing to share."
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He was lying on the ground in his old room, staring at the ceiling and abandoning a bottle of fire whiskey when he sat up. It was likely to be nothing, but he couldn't dismiss it either. Could be important. Could be dangerous. Could just be in his head and further proof of how gone he was, that too.
He stared at the door and frowned, imagining that he could hear footsteps. Actually hearing footsteps. Wand in hand, he rose to his feet, quietly making his way out the door. Just enough to see movement. Then he didn't hesitate. "STUPEFY!"
If it was an Order member who just forgot to properly announce themselves, they deserved to be stunned too.
Sirius rushed down the stairs, moving next to where the man had fallen. He still didn't recognise him as an ally, so it was the logical next step to use another spell to bind him, only then actually using a tight grip on his shoulder to turn him around. He took the wand from the man and then stared at his face. Familiar. In the truest sense of the word.
Could he trust his own perception? Hardly. Too often had Harry looked like James to him. He knew his mind wasn't what it should be. With a scoff, Sirius moved to stand above the man, wand aimed at him as he cast a spell to wake him up.
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Unable to move his arms or legs, he left himself being rolled onto his back and looked up at the man looming over him. It took a few moments to even recognise him but there was no doubting who it was.
"Sirius?" He looked rougher than expected, bit older than he predicted too and he reeked of booze. Bloody hell, did he take a shower in whiskey or something? Recoiling a little, he tried to shuffle away and get some ground, some space to properly deal with this. What did he say to make this less insane.
"Sirius, it's me. Undo this at once! I can explain. I know this seems weird but it's me. It really is."
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Of course he didn't let him go, he wasn't stupid. Instead he aimed his wand at the man's arm, using a spell to uncover that. Dark Mark. No hiding that. That answered that question.
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"I drowned, I know. I know it seems crazy, I know I shouldn't be here but it's me." And he was kind of afraid. His brother shouldn't look like this. This wasn't the Sirius he knew or expected. No smile, his hair was a mess and he wasn't blabbering on about something. "I'll prove it if you don't believe me."
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"You are not a ghost." He could ascertain that much. "No inferius or zombie either."
So what was he? Sirius eyed him with suspicion, no joy over seeing his brother again sinking in just yet. Maybe it was too surreal. It seemed like a trap. "Hello, Regulus. Last I heard, you turned your back on your lord. What is it now?"
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"You could have cleaned. Mother would have gone spare if she saw this mess." She always had everything the way she liked it, right down to what socks her sons wore that day and where exactly the knives and forks sat. Everything was controlled. "Where's Kreacher?" He wanted to see he was alive and well, as Barty had promised.
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Sirius laughed, not particularly joyously. This was insane. He was insane. He wished he had someone else here, some way to tell this was real. However, there was one thing that tripped him up. Because, yes, he knew that Regulus had allegedly stopped following Voldemort before dying, but hearing it stated like that, even seeing him sneer at the thought of it...
That didn't seem like something his imagination would have provided. Entirely too hopeful. "So you are a traitor too. You were always a latebloomer."
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Explained the booze smell and the tired eyed. Did he ever sleep? Huffing, Regulus squirmed in his bonds. "Untie me. I wish to talk and I won't talk to you like this."
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He could admit to that. In his opinion, his mistakes outweighed those of most anyone. "Yeah. Partying."
There was a smile and Sirius shook his head. "It's been a non-stop party since the day you died, all right."
He stared down at Regulus and the last thing he felt like doing was untying him. But there was the thought in his head. What would James do? And so he waved his wand, letting the ropes vanish.
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Not that he ever expected one. He didn't know what he expected. Not this.
And definitely not his brother looking like that. Peering around, he looked anywhere but Sirius because it was much easier to focus beyond him. "I was just curious who was left out of our family. Thought I'd pop by, see who was living."
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Well. His life had been war and there was nothing like that. But James would have deserved better. James should be alive. Lily. Yet here they were instead. "It's only me. Carrying on the name of Black."
He smiled weakly. "Although now you're here, so maybe hurry up and get married."
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He didn't like the look in his eyes. They were hollow and pained. What happened to him? He wanted to ask but it was too much to ask because he was scared of the answer. Something bad happened. He made no joke about James, he didn't smile yet or hug him. This was wrong. It hurt more than it should have.
"Did you trash my room or can I take a gander?"
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But for now, he had Regulus right here, consequences could wait. Slowly it became more real. His brother was here and not just a memory to haunt him. Not another manifestation of guilt. "Your room is just as dorky as you left it. You really want a reminder of that?"
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Truth was, he wished he was more like Sirius right now. He wished he could hug his brother, to smile and goad him to do the same. He wasn't like that though, he didn't know what to do.
So he went up to his room and walked away from him.
And it was the same. His room was the same as ever. He didn't enter, he just stood in the doorway and looked around, struck suddenly by grief. The last time he saw this was before he died. Eighteen years ago. A whole lifetime. It looked so familiar and safe but it was tainted by what he knew now and what he felt. The articles of the Dark Lord on his wall stood as a grim reminder of his own naivety. He finally moved himself over the threshold, looking around the room and feeling a strange mix of happiness and sadness. He looked at the picture of himself, a seeker on his broom, and smiled sadly as he traced the image. What might he have been if he'd lived and succeeded?
What might Sirius of been? Would he be himself? What happened in his life to make him like that? Was this why Barty never told him - was it that bad?
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His happiness had been in school and, later, with the Potters. All of that was long gone and it had faded, it was astonishing how well the misery managed to cling by comparison.
He looked at the picture Regulus was inspecting. "My godson's seeker. For Gryffindor. He's beaten some records."
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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."
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He pulled him into his arms, cupping the back of his head as he held him close. "It's all right, Reg."
His little brother, so eager to please his parents. Ripping off these articles. "'m proud of you."
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Regulus swallowed hard as he forced his emotions as far down as he could, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. It was just all so much. Everyone had aged and moved on, life was pushing forward and everyone he knew had that same look in their eyes. Misery, pain, hurt. Even Sirius. When he pictured his brother, he saw a stupid smile that grated his nerves, not the misery he was drowning in now. He gripped the balled up papers harder now, trembling with anger and sadness.
"It's not all right. Nothing is all right. Does anything look all right to you? The world is cruel and terrible. Nothing is right here!"
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Plenty of reason why his room was his favourite, but the whiskey, at the moment, definitely not least of all. "The war isn't over, but you are probably right. It's never going to be all right for us. Best I'm hoping for is making it all right for the people that come after us."
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Because clearly he hadn't been doing that lately. He looked at Sirius for a moment and the smiled faintly as he tried to think of what to say. "Sirius..."
He swallowed. He wanted to say 'I love you and I missed you' but he was a Black. It didn't happen. "...I really wish you'd gotten a haircut."
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Of course he had to tease him. He was still himself, however much he might have lost.
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He was eighteen for about a month before he died so he hadn't had much chance to drink. "Besides, this place has always been depressing, maybe it's easier to be in with some booze."
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"Don't choke on it." Seemed like good advice.
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"Is this... a prank? That was bloody revolting." He held the bottle back out to him.
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Maybe that was it. He had started to no longer be used to not having it, which was a different problem. "I made a promise, I'm only allowed to empty one of these bottles. So you better be happy that I'm willing to share."
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