& -- regulus black.

Most people left Regulus alone and that was how he liked it. Without their prying eyes, he was able to learn more about that mysterious orb that his brother had mentioned to him. He’d discovered the use for it that very first time - it had killed a hundred Muggles. He’d also learned from a variety of people that trying to get to the orb had caused Leina Nott’s death.

The Truth told him of the destruction, but it showed him Victory as well. He could not decipher about which victory it would be and, when the Order came home from Gringotts to celebrate, he hoped that wasn’t the end.

Annalise brought up a good point. The Order were just as capable as the Death Eaters of murder and destruction. Regulus had seen the papers and his brother was here, after all. Sirius had a knack at leaving things destroyed in his wake. But it wasn’t just the Order - the refugees too. Regulus could almost scoff at that, however. “They’re mostly Mudbloods, Anna,” he said. “I’m not worried about them.”

Though… was he? His magic wasn’t working properly, but Annalise didn’t need to know that. “As for the things in the woods…” he said, trailing off and giving her a look while mentioning the werewolves. “I’ll keep my distance. I may be comfortable with dying, but I’m not okay with catching what they have.”

“But you are right,” he continued. “The Order is capable of terrible things. They’re almost as bad as the Death Eaters. At least my old Master didn’t pretend to be anything he isn’t. The Death Eaters… we knew what we were doing. I think the worst part of your people is that you all think you’re better than them.” He raised his brows. “Or, perhaps, you’re not quite there. You did mention their destruction, after all.”

SUMMARY TO CLOSE:

The answer was ‘no’, of course. There was no desire for another James Potter, another death, another death caused by being blind to a person’s illness—as Edgar called it. And so that was why Caradoc spent the following hour and more, talking with Regulus Black. 

They two discussed first the Horcruxes. What they were, what effect they had or could have on people—Gideon in particular—and what to eventually do with them. How to destroyed them, even. And from there the topics moved to Selwyn and to what had happened at the Potter Estate. Discussing why Regulus had acted the way he did, trying to understand how he felt about taking someone’s life and theorising of future scenarios where maybe their enemy could be captured instead of killed. 

It was a pleasant conversation, if not in what was being discussed, at least in the calm and civilised way they talked to one another. Direct and honest, and by the end of it Caradoc did not come to think of it as waste time.

Regulus rolled his eyes as Sirius spat out the swear at him. How original, he thought. Unlike his brother, Sirius had never valued words the way Regulus did. He said whatever was on his mind or, when he didn’t want to let people in on his actual thoughts, shouted something like this - something that made him sound entirely unintelligible, even though Regulus knew his brother was smarter than he looked. “You have such a way with words, Brother,” Regulus quipped, folding his hands neatly atop the table.

Regulus shook his head as Sirius spoke about his own truths, but not to which Regulus was speaking. It couldn’t be said that Sirius was wrong. There was something about purebloods that the world valued but, to Regulus, why was that a problem? It was the way the world worked and, sometimes, it was okay to stay that way.

“That wasn’t the Truth I meant,” he told Sirius before sighing and leaning back in the chair, looking at his brother. He spoke more really as he continued, his voice no longer holding his normal haughtiness. Sirius would recognize it as the voice of their youth. “What do you want, Sirius?” 

.

SUMMARY TO CLOSE:

Sirius pressed his lips together in a firm line as he willed himself not to bite back to that. He didn’t buy for a moment that Regulus had brought up Peter to grieve, not with that much venom on his tongue. 

Still, without even thinking about it, Sirius spat, “Fuck you.” Regulus didn’t get to will that kind of torment onto Sirius’ family, the ones that mattered. The ones that had protected him. Where had Regulus been at Sirius’ lowest moments? When Sirius had run from the house, Regulus had been there over his parents’ shoulders. He hadn’t ever been around to watch Sirius grieve, and now in the wake of Florean and–in its weird messy way–Peter, he was promising Sirius the very thing he feared most: to be left alone by the only people Sirius felt he truly had.

“Yeah, sure, all about truth,” he said, not daring look at his brother in case it summoned that rashness that had gotten him into trouble, violence that would feel good now but leave him having to explain like a child later why he’d decked his brother. “The truth of blood purity, the truth of inbred superiority… So strong in your convictions, aren’t you? Never one to muddy the waters or believe things that anyone with eyes can see isn’t true.” He thought of Lily as he said this and even Snape of all people. Talented, but not pureblood. Anomalies, according to pureblood superstition, but they were far too common for that.

.

Regulus rolled his eyes as Sirius spat out the swear at him. How original, he thought. Unlike his brother, Sirius had never valued words the way Regulus did. He said whatever was on his mind or, when he didn’t want to let people in on his actual thoughts, shouted something like this - something that made him sound entirely unintelligible, even though Regulus knew his brother was smarter than he looked. “You have such a way with words, Brother,” Regulus quipped, folding his hands neatly atop the table.

Regulus shook his head as Sirius spoke about his own truths, but not to which Regulus was speaking. It couldn’t be said that Sirius was wrong. There was something about purebloods that the world valued but, to Regulus, why was that a problem? It was the way the world worked and, sometimes, it was okay to stay that way.

“That wasn’t the Truth I meant,” he told Sirius before sighing and leaning back in the chair, looking at his brother. He spoke more really as he continued, his voice no longer holding his normal haughtiness. Sirius would recognize it as the voice of their youth. “What do you want, Sirius?” 

While trying not to make too many assumptions, Caradoc couldn’t help at first to think that this conversation would go the same way many conversations with purebloods went: in elegant circles. Or at least, graceful curves that would eventually lead to a point but first you had to take in the view. Yet, luckily, Regulus Black was not that kind of pureblood. 

Both of the offered reasons were ones Caradoc could not fault. He had also taken drastic measures—though not as drastic as Regulus’—to ensure someone’s anonymity, and he could understand the importance of keeping the locket’s location hidden from their enemies. Yet, Regulus had acted with what was basically blunt force, where maybe something more finer could’ve sufficed. It was something they could work on, but for now he put it aside to focus on the rest. 

Because what worried him was the third reason that Regulus offered. It was not the first time that someone had brought up concerns over Gideon, and Caradoc couldn’t just ignore it. Not as a member of the Order or as a friend. 

“It’s not the kind of Dark Magic anyone of us encounters that often, so we are all prone to underestimate it,” he said, at first, because he had also known the influence of a dark artifact and had only been able to resist it thanks to Edgar. He had no doubt the power of the locket was even worse than the one of the orb, at least its alluring voice. “Were you afraid of what he might have done to Selwyn, or what he might have done to you? As I understood it, Gideon argued to spare the man’s life,” he noted, mentioning what he had heard of the accident. “Or do you suggest the locket might somehow work to find a way back to where it belongs?” To whom it belongs to, which was almost worst than that. 

Caradoc, at the very least, seemed to take this whole thing seriously. That was good - that was necessary. He did not mention the first two reasons, nor did he seem to judge Regulus like Gideon Prewett had. In fact, it was Gideon that Dearborn focused on and that made Regulus wonder if he wasn’t the first person to share concerns about the enticing nature of dark magic with Prewett.

After all, didn’t Gideon work with dark magic on a day-to-day basis? A person like that could easily get sucked in, if he wasn’t careful. Perhaps Prewett was further gone than Regulus knew.

He considered Caradoc’s question for a long moment before responding. “I am no sure I can answer that with clarity,” he said. “Yes, you are right that Gideon argued to spare Selwyn. It seems he has the bleeding heart of Gryffindors. And I cannot be sure about the intentions of the locket, though I wouldn’t be surprised if it was fighting its way back.”

Regulus leaned forward. “Because, yes, I do believe it has intentions. It has a living piece of someone’s soul inside of it - by that very definition, perhaps it is living itself. As for Gideon... it’s not just the Horcrux that possesses temptation. Dark magic as a whole does that. I’ve lived it - probably much more than you. And given what he surrounds himself with.”

“Of course not,” she murmured. None of them were safe. Silly of her to worry over Regulus, when she might well meet the same fate as her sister if any of these people realized her true allegiance. Still, hers was a secret, and everyone knew that Regulus had been a Death Eater.

“I hope not,” she said. “I suppose you did manage to make them see you are on our side.” Our side— the word left a bitter taste in her mouth, but it seemed as though Regulus truly had turned his back on the Dark Lord. He might not entirely be with the Order, but she needed to maintain the charade that she was.

“It’s not as though some of the people here are not capable of terrible things, though,” she continued, her thoughts clearly on her sister. “Be careful, won’t you? Be ready to protect yourself. And not just from the Order— this place is full of refugees, is it not? Some of them have lost people to Death Eaters. I can’t imagine you are socializing with them overmuch, but even so, if they know about your background, I cannot imagine they will be wishing you well.”

Annalise brought up a good point. The Order were just as capable as the Death Eaters of murder and destruction. Regulus had seen the papers and his brother was here, after all. Sirius had a knack at leaving things destroyed in his wake. But it wasn’t just the Order - the refugees too. Regulus could almost scoff at that, however. “They’re mostly Mudbloods, Anna,” he said. “I’m not worried about them.”

Though... was he? His magic wasn’t working properly, but Annalise didn’t need to know that. “As for the things in the woods...” he said, trailing off and giving her a look while mentioning the werewolves. “I’ll keep my distance. I may be comfortable with dying, but I’m not okay with catching what they have.”

Peter watched as Regulus leaned forward, and his immediate reaction was almost to flinch backwards away from him sharply. As it was, he leaned back just a little, taking a shaky breath as the other took the cards back and pocketed them. If he said so. Peter had no idea what that was supposed to mean, or what Regulus was thinking. All he could really focus on was the one words that was rattling around in his mind over and over again. Betrayal.

He tilted his head just slightly as the younger boy leaned forward again, watching him and then feeling his heart sink at Regulus’ words. “I don’t want to help the world end,” He spoke faintly then, “I don’t want… any of that.” He sighed deeply, scooting back a little more, instinctively hugging his knees to his chest again and curling up, as if making himself smaller would keep him safer.

“Thank you,“ he spoke then after a moment, "For not sharing my secret. I…” And then Regulus was speaking about Sirius, and Peter visibly flinched at that thought. He’d already basically caused James’ death… he could barely handle it, he was sure there was no way he could survive knowing he’d lead to another death of one of his best friends. The thought made his stomach churn, and he wanted to start crying again. He couldn’t lose anyone else.

“… if that were to happen, I’d let you,” He whispered out finally after a moment, looking up at the other with sad eyes.

Peter didn’t want any of it. Well good for him, Regulus thought, rolling his eyes. Just because he didn’t want it didn’t mean it wasn’t there. No one but Peter had decided to go to the Dark Lord. It didn’t matter if he’d been forced or coerced or gone willingly. At the end of the day, it had been his own choice. But, did Peter do the whole pity me thing extremely well. No wonder his friends suspected nothing. 

Too bad for Peter that Regulus didn’t feel the same way about him as his friends did.

“It does not matter what you want,” Regulus said, his voice growing hard. “It only matters what you do. Take the Truth for what it is and either use it as an opportunity to decide... or don’t. But you will not get in the way of my quest.”

Regulus rolled his eyes yet again. And this bloke called himself a Gryffindor! “You won’t have to let me do anything because I am stronger than you. You’ve made that very clear tonight. And for thanking me, please save it. I will have no problem with my actions leading to your death if you make it so.” 

He stood up and looked down at Peter. “I hope you consider the Truth you heard here. Make your choices wisely.” He turned to leave, not caring if Peter followed. At the last minute, he halted and spoke once more with his back to the other wizard. “And Pettigrew? It would do you wise to own up to your decisions - your mistakes. You have the ability to change things, if you choose. So make a choice.”

He left then, leaving Peter behind to decide what Regulus meant. And maybe, for once, actually own up to his decisions.

Instead of a new dawn, new day, it felt like the one before had simply stretched itself, with seemingly no intention to ever end. Caradoc felt a little tired, and while it didn’t show in the serious and pensive expression on his face, or in his ever rigid posture, it showed in that for once he was sitting down without looking over or obsessing over the Minutes. His mind was still working, thinking of the battle, of his own part in it, of those of the others, thinking about Tom Riddle’s appearance, what it meant, thinking about Alcott Avery and what had happened with him under his responsibility. 

Each thought tried to come at the forefront, and for once he let chaos reign. By thinking about everything, it was like thinking about nothing. The mental equivalent of shuffling cards, repeatedly, over and over and over…

Regulus’ voice interrupted the process. The cards stopped, and the next card had showed itself. Caradoc focused his attention on him, looking at the young man to learn more about him. 

“I appreciated the transparency and directness, it’ll will make everything more quicker. I do not intend to hold you longer than necessary,” he said, coming to stand, as he greeted him with a slightly bow of his head the way he had been taught by his parents. With a small gesture of his hand, he invited Regulus to sit down if he so wished and waiting for him do so before joining him. “My next question, since you have already answered two of them, is: why have you killed Mister Selwyn? It seemed there could have been other ways to deal with the man, but then you can explain to me the situation better to help me understand what happened.”

Caradoc, as ever, got straight to the point. Regulus did not know the man very well but, from what he’d seen and heard, Caradoc was not a beat around the bush sort of wizard. That made things easier for them both. Because, while people often felt Regulus was speaking in riddles whenever he talked of The Truth, he actually was fairly straightforward himself.

He only believed in using words when they were meant to be spoken and, it seemed, Caradoc Dearborn did the same. 

Caradoc stood and greeted Regulus in a very pureblooded way that came second-nature to Regulus to reciprocate. He ducked his head in mimic a moment before he sat down opposite Caradoc at the table, in the proffered seat. It also seemed as though he wasn’t planning on murdering Regulus today - at least, not yet - so that, too, was a good thing.

“That is a fair question,” Regulus replied agreeably, leaning back in his chair to look at the older man. “And I intend to answer it honestly. He saw my face and the idea that he might’ve gotten away with that knowledge was not one I was willing to allow. That being said, that wasn’t the only reason...” 

He glanced to both of his sides, as though expecting someone to be listening. It was just the walls of the House but, perhaps, that was even worse. “There is another. Selwyn saw the necklace - and the only reason the Dark Lord hasn’t yet come for me is because he does not know I took it. I couldn’t risk him discovering that, had Selwyn gotten away.”

‘ Secret organizations, ’ he waved a hand dismissively, as if he was part of enough of them to be an expert on what they were usually like and how they operated and that inner circles were, of course, standard procedure within rebel groups and murder cults and all such secret clubs. ‘ They all need structure. ’ Personally, Severus was unconcerned with the few hierarchical similarities between the two groups. It wasn’t enough to draw a direct parallel or point to an issue. Like pointing at cats and dogs and pondering over the irony of the both of them wagging their tails. He inclined his head in mock acknowledgment of the congratulations. ‘ You’re a little late — but I’ll forgive you that, all things considered. I’m sure you would’ve joined me soon yourself if not for your untimely death. ’

Severus didn’t show any outward sign he heard what the younger Slytherin said. He picked up the pitcher of water and began to pour himself a glass. Now who went and aired their dirty laundry to the littlest Black? ‘ Of course, ’ he replied. ‘ You know us spies. We like to keep each other updated. We have a weekly meeting with minutes. Discuss the agenda. Small talk by the water pitcher. The works. ’ If Black wanted to get more out of Severus he’ll have to try a little more subtlety.

He pondered his words as he took a sip. Then poured another glass and handed it to the wizard. ‘ The demise of the wizarding world, ’ he hummed, taking a seat again, head tilting to the side in thought. ‘ That’s quite dramatic, ’ he noted. Even for a Black. But dramatic didn’t mean baseless, nor untrue. The silence hung heavy. Severus looked at the other man. ‘ That’s what the Dark Lord’s quest is? Where it will lead? ’ He had no doubt of that himself. Had known for some time now that a world led by that monster would be a world of pain and ruin. But the Black he knew wouldn’t care about the death and the ruin of the common folk.

.

Regulus smirked. “Surely, you know the Dark Lord is not so secret as he once was. Nor the Order. In the eyes of the public, this is not a war, but they do know of us - both us here and us there. The Dark Mark has made it so. Then, of course, that explosion last year at the Ministry. The Phoenix Group, the papers are calling the Order. Though I’m sure you already know this.” The one thing about Severus was that he was often three steps ahead of everyone else. Regulus would not be giving information that Severus wasn’t aware of. Especially considering Regulus had be laying low for over a year now, away from society.

Joined the Inner Circle? Regulus wasn’t sure. The Dark Lord saw promise in him, yes, just as his parents had. But he couldn’t be certain it would lead anywhere. Regulus had been so young when he’d left his mark on this world. “I believed the Dark Lord underestimated me,” he told Severus. “I’m not certain he would’ve seen what I saw. He did not understand the Truth such as I.”

“I see,” Regulus replied with another smirk at the sarcasm over the spy. It wasn’t clear if Severus truly knew of the other or was just humoring Regulus - or, perhaps, Snape wanted more information - but Regulus let it drop. If Severus did not know of Pettigrew’s allegiance already, he would soon find out. “One must talk about the weather in order to truly trust,” Regulus quipped back with the same sarcastic tone Severus had adopted about small talk.

Regulus accepted the glass of water, but did not drink. “I do not believe that is the Dark Lord’s quest. He wants Power. But Power is less impressive than Fate. And, with the way things are currently going, the Truth is that Fate will allow for the demise of the Wizarding World.”

Sirius bristled at the initial barb. Bold of him to invoke the woman who’d screamed by letter at Sirius over his death, who’d be just as disappointed in them both if she could see Regulus here now. Who’d probably find some way to make this Sirius’ fault too. Every time his brother failed to measure up or didn’t quite succeed, Sirius had always had it made quite clear his influence was to blame. Why else would her flesh and blood not measure up?

“Yes, well, I’m sure she’d be horrified to hear it was from muggle smut and motorcycle repair manuals.” It wasn’t Sirius’ best work, but it was something.

He was glad he hadn’t been facing Regulus when he took the stab about Peter. Sirius froze, his whole body tense, before whirling around and snapping, “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, so leave it be! You don’t get to talk about either of them, especially like that.” Because in some ways, Regulus was right that he’d lost another friend. Peter might not have been as dead as everyone assumed, but Sirius could tell he’d lost him, just from the way he’d shrunk away that night, the fear in his eyes. He wasn’t theirs anymore, and Sirius wondered if he’d missed when that had become true.

Taking a breath, Sirius walked past Regulus’ table again, going over to the other shelf. He couldn’t look at him and have a civil conversation, and Regulus himself wasn’t helping. “What are you doing down here anyway?” He’d looked just long enough to see that Regulus’ table wasn’t covered in the telltale signs of research or notetaking, but Sirius couldn’t imagine why else he’d be down here. Surely if he wanted to be alone, he could just sulk in his room.

.

Regulus snorted at the joke. They used to do this sometimes - joke together. Before James, Regulus had been Sirius’ only friend. "Touché,” Regulus said. Their mother hated much of what Sirius had become, but the fascination with Muggle things was one of the worst parts. Regulus could see that Sirius likely did some of it to annoy everyone in the house - but, in the end, it had worked.

As Sirius stiffen, it seemed as though he wasn’t the only brother to know how to get under the skin of a Black. Regulus narrowed his eyes as Sirius whirled around, his voice tense and angry. There was something else underneath it that Regulus couldn’t place - he’d stopped knowing his brother a long time ago.

“I was going to offer my condolences,” Regulus said, raising his chin. It was not the truth. Whatever Peter had done to get himself killed was probably better for everyone. But, of course, Sirius did not know about the Mark under the sleeve of Pettigrew’s robes. “But I’ll keep them to myself. Grieve away, Brother. I’m sure you’ll see them soon. At the rate you all are going, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re friend group continued to dwindle. Or, if Fate is cruel - which I do believe it is - perhaps you’ll be the only person to not join them during this war.”

Regulus looked up at Sirius as he came closer to his table. He couldn’t help the quickening of his heart at the question - the crystal ball in his bag was letting off the heat of Knowing. “I am not sure how that is any of your business,” Regulus told him, his voice steady. “But, if you must know, I enjoy the walls of this house. It Speaks the Truth.” 

‘ Business, ’ he echoed, faint interest in his tone. ‘ With the muggleborn refugees or the werewolves in the forest? ’ Everything he learned about Walburga and Orion Black had thankfully been from a distance, but even he knew they’d never have approved of this. On whose behalf was Black here, then? Himself, or their patron?

He hummed. ‘ Seven years in Slytherin and you still ask direct questions, ’ he noted, mildly impressed, mildly disapproving. He supposed as the scion of an important House people were more likely to answer your questions than evade them. Directness might’ve served the dead heir well in life, but he was not, legally speaking, alive at the moment. ‘ I am a spy, yes, ’ he said. Everyone who was in the Order long enough knew. There was hardly a point in holding onto information that’s freely and easily available elsewhere. ‘ On whose behalf depends on who you ask. ’ He nodded towards the other wizard. ‘ Does this important business include the passing of information, or a change of heart? ’

.

“Neither,” Regulus replied easily. “Nor with my brother. My business comes to the Order - the Inner Circle, if we are being precise. It’s awfully ironic, isn’t it?” He paused, raised his eyebrows to Regulus as though the other would understand what he said before he did. “That both our Master and the ones fighting against him are much more similar than they’d like. I hear you’ve made it to the Dark Lord’s Inner Circle itself. Congratulations.”

Regulus himself had never gotten that far before he died. And yet, he was still the one who knew the Dark Lord’s secret. He’d still been the one to find the Horcrux. His Dark Mark almost burned under his robes.

“And you still do not answer them,” Regulus shot back with a smirk. This was why, in fact, Severus Snape was such a good spy. He could say things with the illusion of truth without it actually being an answer at all. Most would not have spotted it - but most were not Regulus. He might’ve known Severus better than many here, in fact.

Except, perhaps, Lily Evans. 

It was sickening, the hold of Gryffindors. First, his brother. Then, Severus. Or perhaps it was the other way around. “I was asking you,” Regulus pointed out, though he did not particularly need an answer as to which side Severus was playing for. He suspected the answer was much more complicated, anyway. “I’m sure you’ve heard of another spy in the midst of the Order, yes? One before you. Tell me... do you know who it is?”

Regulus knew. He assumed Severus would, too. But he wasn’t ready to pull out that information - and wasn’t sure that the other wix would be yet either. “Again - neither,” Regulus said. “I know how this will end if the Dark Lord succeeds in his quest and I am simply trying to stop the demise of the Wizarding World. My information is much more than just information, but my heart does not lie with the people who fight here.”

Quiet, Peter listened to Regulus’ words and nodded his head slightly. Of course the answer wouldn’t be as clear as what he was looking for, he hadn’t quite expected that. Still, perhaps instead of feeling like he was the spinning needle of a compass, the Truth might steady him enough to figure out what direction he needed to be pointed in to keep going and survive. Perhaps it had been a dumb question. Perhaps he should have worded it better, but he was afraid and just needed to know, to find his way.

Watching as Regulus moved the cards, Peter furrowed his eyebrows and felt rather confused. Deep emotions, the openness to receive love and feelings. Well, he supposed that was rather simple, wasn’t it? That had to be when he’d come to Hogwarts, afraid of being alone and treated as he’d been at home, only to find the other Marauders who’d taken him in and made him feel like he was an actual part of something. Something that he missed so dearly.

The present was even more confusing, however. Pleasant feelings? Unworrying? The Truth was trying to tell him to worry less in the middle of a war where he was a spy and struggling to survive? Worry less? How exactly would that help him survive any further, if he wasn’t prepared, if he didn’t think about the days to come? How could one worry less in his situation? It made his head spin.

And then, his future. He took a sharp intake of breath when Regulus smirked and spoke that word, making his heart clench in his chest. Betrayal. His mind was suddenly racing, and he wondered if the Truth was laughing at him. Worry less, and yet give him the word Betrayal. Was fate just playing mind games with him now? Who the bloody hell was he supposed to betray? He was already doing that to his friends, wasn’t he? Was it calling for more of that? Or for him to follow what Ainsley and Regulus had said, and betray the Dark Lord?

His hands were shaking and Peter felt almost lost in his thoughts, trying to somehow sort through the spinning thoughts in his head. He nearly jumped as Regulus spoke again, looking up at the younger boy and blinking a few times before managing to shake his head slightly. “I… no, I suppose that’s answered everything then, hasn’t it?” He managed out.

Peter shook his head and looked more fearful than when they’d started. That was understandable. Too many didn’t believe in the presence of the Truth, but hadn’t It just looked into Peter’s very soul and picked him apart? Betrayal. If there was one word to describe what the man in front of him was good at, perhaps it would be that.

Regulus leaned forward and slowly slid the cards back towards him. “If you say so,” he replied. The Answers were not for him to decide - that was only for Peter. As he pocketed the cards, he leaned forward again, only this time clasping his hands together and resting his elbows on the log. He placed his chin on his hands and looked at the man in front of him.

“I still have not shared your secret, Pettigrew,” he informed the man. “But if you help the ending of the world, I will not continue to keep it for you. This is your chance to make a choice.” He paused, took a long, slow breath. The next words weren’t easy. Peter, like the rest of the world, would likely not understand them.

Emmeline watched closely as he flipped the card and explained. She opened her mouth and then closed it again. “What have I been hiding?” she asked back. Emmeline tapped her fingers on the table in irritation. Everything so far made sense to her. It all fit with where she was and where she wanted to be. But here was supposedly her answer of more, and Emmeline didn’t get it. She kept everything so organized, tried to keep everyone on the same page and stocks resupplied. She was on top of all of it, and the cards wanted her to be emotionally honest? What did that even mean? Emmeline didn’t have time for emotional vulnerability, and who would she provide it to even if she did?

She sighed and slid back from the table. “I guess I’ll have to ponder that one,” she said dryly, then looked up at Regulus. “Thank you, though. I- The rest of it was helpful. I don’t know where to go with this.” It occurred to her that perhaps she was emotionally closing herself off right now, but Emmeline couldn’t just sit and talk through any little thing that she might not be offering completely with Regulus. Surely he wouldn’t want her to even if she did. He must have other things to do.

“I’ll check on that research,” she promised. “It might take me a while to get anywhere, but I’ll let you know if I do.”

Regulus smirked as he looked at her. Even in this moment, she was doing what the card had just told her not to do. But perhaps she wasn’t ready to listen to the Truth in this moment. And, in a way, that was truth itself. “I did not ask what you were hiding - I asked if you have been hiding. There is a difference that only you will be able to figure out on your own.”

She thanked him, even through her obvious frustration. It was clear she did not believe but that was unsurprising. Most people didn’t. Most people walked right by the Truth without knowing it. He gathered his cards and stood up. “The gratitude is mine,” he said. “Thank you for keeping this... problem between us. I look forward to our future correspondence.” 

He tipped his head in her direction before putting the tarot deck back into his robe pocket and making his way out the door, down the hall and passed the room where people were mourning over the lost life of James Potter.

Lucinda made an unflattering face at his ghost comment. But, his comment about “keeping the equilibrium” made her scoff outloud.

“Oh, sod off, you know what I meant!”

She remembered she was holding a roll in her hand at this and took a large bite to emphasize her point,

His invitation to explain herself caught her off guard. Regulus was not usually the type to ask for elaboration. Something about this had caught his interest.

When he took a seat at the table, Lucinda took that as a cue to make herself comfortable. She sat herself opposite of him, and took another bite of her roll. His “tell you mine, tell me yours” comment made her chuckle. Even now, everything was a bit of a joke for him, and she would have been more than happy to keep up the lighter tone, if not for what she’d have to recount. Where she may have hesitated with others, she went straight into her story. She knew Regulus and sure, he could be a bit intense, but he was ultimately harmless. She could tell him.

“Have I ever mentioned my uncle? Most likely not. Maxim Talkalot, fellow housemate. He owned Maxim’s down in Diagon Alley.”

It had become a bit of a habit for her to mention her uncle’s association with Slytherin house. He’d been the one to show her the ropes, what it truly meant to be a Slytherin. The amount of discounts and special invitations they’d received, solely from House association, was still a bit thrilling to her. She figured mentioning this would keep Black’s interest.

Before she continued, she realized she wasn’t sure what he might have heard, through the news or, perhaps, the Order themselves. Maybe the mention of Diagon Alley was enough for him to understand what might have happened? She clenched her fists a bit and took another bite. Better to just get it over with.

“Owned, being the operative word. What’s funny is, I couldn’t even tell you what caused it. We were doing everything right. I was doing everything right. Staying low. Waiting it out. Shaking my head at the so-called activists, chasing after their own demise. Idiots. Yet, I still went into work on Sunday and watched my uncle’s life’s work explode before my eyes. Dark Mark and all, because Merlin forbid we’re confused about who might be running around blowing up buildings. There’s too many dark wizards about, right? Wouldn’t want to get mixed up.”

She began absently picking at her her roll.

“My uncle’s all right, by the way. He managed to survive. We did have a casualty, though. Miss Verna Thornburry. Middle-aged woman with a stick stuck up her arse, but that doesn’t earn her a death sentence.”

She suddenly tossed he roll away from her, watching it bounce down the length of the table. She wasn’t hungry anymore.

”And, what am I supposed to do, right? Am I supposed to stand by and allow it? Of course bloody not! Most importantly, am I supposed to insult my uncle by throwing the job of delivering him the justice he’s owed to some Aurors? Of course fucking not. There’s your explanation. It’s personal now. Idiotic ideologies are one thing. I’m not here for any of that nonsense. Let them kill each other over that. But, the embarrassment, the disrespect, that is all unforgivable. So, here I am, traipsing around McKinnon Farms, sneaking bread and chatting with a ghost. Great help I’ve been to the cause thus far.”

Lucinda managed to cool her growing temper with that last good-natured jab. That was probably the most thorough explanation she’d been able to give thus far.  That was a good sign, she supposed. At least she could talk about it, even if it fired her up.

Realizing she had nothing more to say, she mirrored Regulus’ smirk from before and balanced her chin upon one of her fists.

“So. What’s the ghost doing here, besides haunting the farms, sneaking bread, and chatting with me?”

“Yes, I know your uncle’s shop,” he said. Of course he did. Everyone knew of Maxim’s - most people knew of the Talkalot’s, despite them not being as high class as most of his housemates. The mention of how the shop had been destroyed, however, made Regulus raise his brows. He’d heard of the explosion - he’d been at the Potter Estate, after all. Had killed a man to keep his own secrets. But he hadn’t known it was Maxim’s.

He listened as Lucinda ranted. And, oh did she rant. It was like she was having a full on conversation with herself and he could remember this being something he did often when they were both children (she was still sort of a child, wasn’t she? Did that make him one as well?) He’d thought about how her surname suited her well.

She ranted about how the Dark Lord had brought the fight to her doorstep - how she’d lost a coworker (perhaps a friend?) - and it had become personal. It was honest and that was refreshing. Because the reason for being here was a bit more selfish than some others might’ve said. 

How many times had he needed to listen to someone say because it was the right thing to do before he rolled his eyes so hard that they might roll from their sockets? While Lucinda’s answer was a bit less self-sacrificing than many of the other Order members, at least it was real. It was also bloody stupid.

“I am sorry to hear about your uncle’s shop,” he began. “But a shop doesn’t equal a life. The Order doesn’t know what they’re doing here - they’re losing, Lucinda. If you want out with your life, I’d reconsider your choices upon being here. If you don’t care much about that... then, by all means, be my guest. And good luck to you. This lot are quite insufferable. I’ve considered Avada Kedavra’ing myself multiple times since I’ve arrived.”

He pulled the butter towards him and used the knife to butter his bread. When looking at Lucinda and listening to her story, he forgot that the knife had probably been used by lesser blood. “I can’t tell you my story in the same way you’ve told me yours, I’m afraid. What I will say is this - I fought for the Dark Lord, I saw the inside of the other side and it was terrifying. Not just what he’s doing, but what he will do. The Truth is... he will end the world, if we do not stop him.”

Noble House of Wack

Date: March 26, 1972 Location: House of Bones Starter: @alphaleoniis​

After a few days of barely leaving his apartment and trying to insist to Lily and Remus that he was fine, Sirius knew he wasn’t fine. He was sleeping in fits, mostly as a dog, and it took everything in him to force a smile when he wasn’t alone. The rest of the time, though, he had nothing to do but think. He was picturing Florean’s last moments, imagining what James would say if he was around, spinning as he considered what Peter’s situation could be. Sirius couldn’t actually say how long he’d been in this little cycle, and it surprised him when he changed and found out it was only the 26th. Just five days since the explosion. 

Nightmares were nothing new, but in between everything recent, an old one of his mother had begun slipping in. Every time he awoke from it, Sirius thought of Regulus. His brother wasn’t dead. He never had been. Out of everyone Sirius had lost, Regulus had returned. In this darkest moments, Sirius wondered why. Of all of them, why Regulus?

Sirius needed out. And Regulus wouldn’t leave his mind. Perhaps it was a sign that Sirius should finally do what he’d been putting off for a month. He needed to actually talk to his brother.

He started at the farm, as Padfoot because he didn’t want to talk to anyone else. Regulus didn’t seem to be there, so Sirius headed to the House of Bones. Unlike at the farm, Sirius didn’t think a dog would blend in. He stayed himself as he wandered. Passing the library, Sirius paused. He felt uncomfortable here, especially knowing Peter was just a few corridors away. Sirius just couldn’t figure out how to talk to him. He glanced in the library. There his brother was. Sirius couldn’t say he was looking forward to this conversation anymore than one with Peter, but it was the one he’d apparently decided to tackle.

Sirius didn’t say anything at first. He walked in, moving close enough that his brother would see him as he began perusing a shelf. He was paying so little attention, though, that he couldn’t actually repeat any titles he was looking at.

It was much too late for Regulus to be roaming the corridors of the cursed home - or it should have been too late. But the night hours were the best for spirits and the Truth. It was as though the quietness stilled the air, opening it to new possibilities and harsh realities.

He hadn’t wanted to pull out the old crystal ball he’d stolen from the Potter Estate on the day it had been attacked at the farm. Too many people who he didn’t care for - too many people who were just looking at him to fail. The House of Bones, while typically filled with hushed voices of Order members, was a better option. There was silence here and enough rooms for Regulus to slip into.

Not to mention... the house wanted to be heard.

As he looked in the crystal ball, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. In concern. His body had a chill run through it as he stared into a foggy picture of an unrecognizable orb. He’d never seen it before - but he knew it held answers. The Truth was asking him to listen now and he was. He needed to discover what that orb was - what it meant.

He straightened quickly as he heard footsteps and tapped his wand to the crystal ball, clearing it, before quickly putting it back into his bag. And just in time, too, because none other than his brother walked through the threshold of the door. Sirius would kill him if he knew that Regulus stole something from his precious James Potter.

Sirius acted as though he did not know Regulus was sitting at the table, but Regulus just watched him for a moment before saying, “Brother,” as a greeting. “I didn’t know you’d learned to read. Mother would be so proud.” He smirked, raised his chin towards Sirius. He looked stricken, angry, but not as he had with James. 

“You’ve lost another friend,” Regulus commented dryly, mentioning Peter Pettigrew. There was something off about the way the Order members were reacting to their so-called fallen comrade, but Regulus wasn’t privy to the information the others held. “Did you not love Pettigrew in the same way you did Potter? Or, perhaps, there’s something else I don’t know?”

It seemed that every other day there was another pureblood twit prancing about the Order looking for an adventure. Like finding a cause to throw your life into is such great fun — until it wasn’t, of course. Until it took more from you than you than you were willing to give. Until you realized just what you gave up and what you could still lose.

Still. Regulus Black wasn’t some senseless Gryffindor with barely two steps ahead within sight at any given moment. From what he remembered, the younger snake had a plan, as any other pureblood scion he knew did. And it did not include such bold rebellion, nor a pretend-death. Not as far as Severus could see.

Hand over said heart, Severus leaned back on his heels with a slight grimace. ‘ Your doubt, it wounds me, ’ he said, ‘ is it really so hard to believe that I’d finally turn over a new leaf? ’ He pulled a chair back and took a seat opposite the young man. A head tilt, a raised brow. ‘ Following in your brother’s footsteps, are you? I’m almost surprised. ’

.

Regulus watched carefully at Severus avoided the question. It was clever, the way the older wix did so. Perhaps, had one not spend years watching him in the common room, they would think nothing of it. But Regulus regnozied the way Severus Snape stayed right on the line, acting as though he had given an answer. 

Severus sat next to Regulus at the small porch table. There were only two chairs and Regulus tried not to think who had occupied this one before him. “Not exactly,” Regulus smirked. “I have important business here.” It wasn’t really an explanation, but closer to the truth than Severus had given.

Regulus titled his hand, decided to call him out on it. “You did not answer my question.”