Chapter Text
Chapter Six: Losing Balance
So pardon the dust
While this all settles in
With a broken heart
Transformation begins
He doesn't go to Lupin's apartment immediately after leaving the Malfoy manor. He's off-kilter, a bit sick with regret, and really he just wants to see his brother. Perhaps to remind himself his efforts are worth it, that his brother is still safe, that all will be well in the future. Harry will have a godfather and Regulus will have a family once more, a better one now that his mother is dead and gone. Even now he feels some level of guilt thinking that while remembering the quiet tears she'd shed alone in her room after his father had passed, remembering how happy she'd been when she thought Regulus's footsteps were Orion's. Then he also remembers the hexes and curses, insults and bruises, Sirius running away without a word, even their father being fearfully silent in the face of her wrath, coming back from Christmas break and charming over his black eye since his mother refused to give him bruise gel and he was too proud to go see Madam Pomfrey.
It's best she's no longer with them.
He wanders down the long, dark hallways filled with cells, invisible to the human eye as long as he wishes to be. He glances in on Bellatrix, the woman in the middle of ranting and raving, and walks right past. She would kill him if she knew what he'd said to Narcissa earlier, among other reasons, too. The chatter about him makes him walk a bit faster to the far end of the hallway and hung a left into a quieter part of the prison, perhaps where the less manic wards were placed to keep the populations separated. Upon further investigation, though, Sirius' cell had no neighbors for several rows down, unlike the rest of the prison being stuffed full of heinous villains.
His heart sunk. Was this an attempt by someone to give him some peace of mind or an attempt to keep him isolated and vulnerable? Regulus wasn't sure.
Either way, he phased through the bars and became corporeal, seeing his brother's ears perk up when he heard footsteps on the cold concrete. Sirius's head snaps up immediately after, stumbling to stand as the speed and how weak Azkaban had made him ripped his usual grace from him. Regulus sighs, accepting what he thinks will be a hug with the air of a put-upon sibling, but instead, Sirius grabs him by the neck and pulls him in for a noogie that surely messes up his hair. Regulus squawks as Sirius raps his head with his knuckles, and phases out of corporeality long enough to escape.
Sirius clicks his tongue slightly, "That's cheating, Reggie, and you know it."
"Here I came to give you some halfway decent news and this is the thanks I get." Regulus gave him an annoyed look, "Perhaps I'll just leave."
"You wouldn't." Sirius snorts, going to lean against the wall once more and slide down it until he sat on the ground again. Regulus sighed and followed suit, sitting in front of his brother with a sour expression.
"Bloody hate it when you're right." He mutters, ignoring the laugh he receives, "Anyways, do you want the news or not? And do you want good or the very good first?"
"Shocked there's no bad with you involved." Sirius rolled his eyes, "Hit me with the good news, I suppose."
"I've spoken with Narcissa about securing your release."
With just those words, Sirius sets up straighter. All at once, his young face is growing tense with hesitation and hope at the same time, eyes wide, "She'd never."
"With the right incentive." Regulus shrugged, leaving the details vague so as to not betray her confidence any more than he already had, "She's speaking it over with her husband. I assume we'll know something soon."
"How could she even get me out?" He sat forward, resting his chin on his palm, "I know her and Lucius are rich, but that'll only get them so far."
"She'll come up with something. I assume it'll involve giving up Pettigrew to the authorities, seeing as she knows his current location." His face darkens, "It'd be good for you two to switch places."
Sirius's expression grew stormy as well, "She knows where he is?"
"Yes." He sighed, sending his brother a tired look, "I know you're itching for revenge, but you're locked in a cell. Try and reign in the Gryffindor impulses just a touch longer."
His brother let out a sharp breath, leaning his head back against the stone wall with a dull thud. Regulus watched with a frown, before resigning himself to his brother's dramatics, "Also, since you haven't asked yet, the very good news. I suppose it does come with a bit of a dark tale beforehand, though."
"Don't be cryptic, Regulus, you always do that when you want to avoid a conversation." Sirius groaned, "Out with it, already."
"When James and Lily passed, Harry was given to his only living relatives." Regulus studied Sirius' face for any recognition, "Petunia-"
"Petunia Evans got custody of Harry?" Sirius interrupted him loudly, shooting him an incredulous look, "She could never raise a magical child! She bullied Lily any chance she got!"
"Petunia Dursley now, actually, and her great doofus of a husband is just as bad. They have a son, as well, named Dudley." Regulus pursed his lips, remembering the first night he became corporeal, "From what I could tell when I first manifested, they abused Harry. Emotionally and, at times, physically."
His brother was silent. Regulus pushed on, heart growing heavy.
"He was afraid of them. I did all I could while incorporeal, but once I made myself known they left him alone out of fear."
Sirius remained quiet, a devastated expression falling over his face and erasing any earlier incredulity or good humor.
"Siri, say something," Regulus whispered, "I know it's hard to hear-"
"Hard to hear?" Sirius snapped, glowering at Regulus, "You have no idea what- I- James and Lily trusted me to protect Harry. Remus and I both! Where was he? Where was Remus?"
"Dumbledore...deemed him unfit." Regulus averted his eyes as his brother's temper flared even higher.
"Unfit? He'd be better than child abusers!" Sirius shouted, his voice hoarse, "He's been with them eight years. Eight bloody years and I- I couldn't do anything."
Sirius's breath was coming out in harsh huffs, and Regulus could see tears gathering in his eyes. He wanted to make it better, say something to soothe the pain, but he knew nothing on Earth could do that. Sirius felt responsible for whatever pain Harry had gone through, as preposterous as it was seeing as he was locked up at the time on false charges and unable to do anything. Still, it hurt Regulus to see his brother torturing himself over it.
"I know you blame yourself, Siri." He started hesitantly, "You couldn't have done anything, though, I know-"
"You keep saying you know. You know absolutely nothing, Regulus," Sirius said, his voice bitter, as he ran a hand over his face.
Regulus winced, not wanting to incite another argument, "As I said, I know it's hard for you to hear, and I can't imagine what it feels-"
"Can't imagine what it feels like to be locked up for years?" Sirius snapped snidely, "Hearing your godson was abused in your absence, your best friend dead, and your other best friend cast out by someone supposed to protect us? You're right, Regulus, you can't imagine."
"You're being unfair." He said firmly, "You're angry and I hate to be the one to tell you all of this."
"I'm being unfair?" Sirius scowled at him, "Look where I am, Regulus! I'm in Azkaban-!"
"And I'm dead." Regulus interrupted his brother for once, watching Sirius's face fall momentarily at the words, "You're in Azkaban, and I'm dead. Let's not pretend I sacrificed nothing."
He knew how Sirius was when he was angry; his brother had a short fuse and a razor-sharp tongue, so getting in his way when he was mad was a sure-fire shot at getting your feelings hurt. He'd learned this many times over as a child, and even more when they were at Hogwarts after Sirius had run away. His brother had barely even spoken to him, but when he had it always ended with Regulus crying in an abandoned classroom until it was safe to come out again. Sirius hated their mother so much; hated her politics, hated her abuse, hated her hatred. They shared one thing, though, and that was their temper, not that he'd dare ever say that to his brother's face.
"I'm sorry, Reg." His brother said heavily, and he meant it, "I didn't mean that."
He nodded his acceptance, "And like I said, though it's a dark beginning, some good has happened."
His brother made a noise of disbelief.
"Remus was working at the bookstore I took Harry to on Yule's Eve." Regulus began explaining, only to stop when he saw his brother's brows lift, "What?"
"You took Harry to a bookstore?" Sirius said, laughing slightly, "I just never thought you'd be good with kids, I suppose. Especially, you know, the troubled ones."
Regulus grimaced, "I know you loathe to admit I've had any hardships in life, what with being the golden child, but I do know what it's like to be raised in a hostile and abusive environment, Sirius. Any gesture of goodwill means the world."
Sirius was quiet for a moment, studying his brother carefully, "There's...a lot of resentment in you, isn't there, Reg?"
"No clue what you mean." He deflected unconvincingly, yet was still convinced the charge on through the conversation, "Anyways, Remus was there. We exchanged words over everything that happened-"
"Words?" Sirius raised his brows, suddenly interested.
"I belittled his intelligence and morals." Regulus said, voice dry, "Is that what you want to hear?"
"Because of me?" Sirius faux batted his eyelashes, making Regulus scoff.
"Your ego is enormous, are you aware of that?" The younger Black rolled his eyes, "Yes, it was over your arrest and Harry both. Anyways, he ended up on Petunia's doorstep, soaking wet might I add, and the encounter ended with Harry being whisked away to Remus's apartment."
Sirius seemed to sag in relief, "That's...that is good."
It was silent for a moment, Regulus staring through the small cell window above them and out into the night sky. He supposed it was nearly five in the morning at this point, really, but instead he took solace in the relative quiet of the moment. The other wards of Azkaban were unusually silent. Perhaps asleep, he thought, naively.
"Regulus." His brother spoke suddenly, "I know I don't really have the right to ask you for anything else-"
"Of course you do. You're my brother."
Sirius blinked, looking at him hard and long before shaking his head, "I really don't. I will ask this, though, despite that; please stay with Harry, even though he's with Remus now."
"I was already going to." Regulus shrugged, "He'd probably figure out a way to summon me back even if I left. We're making great progress with the spectral plane, you know."
"That's...well, that's good." Sirius blinked, looking overwhelmed for a moment, "I suppose I'd considered the trauma from abuse, not the trauma from seeing ghosts."
Regulus only winced. The ghosts even wizards couldn't see were usually the ones who had business left on Earth and hadn't moved on. Some of them were exceptionally bloody and gruesome, and some just sad. Most weren't powerful enough to become haunts, so they wandered around until Harry's energy drew them in like moths to a flame.
"Your silence is telling." Sirius looked weary, "That combination of psychological damage is frightening."
"Yes, it is, and he'll need support." Regulus pursed his lips, everything he didn't say weighing the air down between them.
Sirius noticed, "Reg, I'm sorry-"
"I don't want to have this discussion in Azkaban of all places." Regulus tried to plead without actually begging, "It can wait."
Sirius looked at his brother, eternally eighteen and torn from the world too soon, and nodded. If Regulus wanted to wait, he could appease his brother for once in his life, or afterlife.
"If you say so-"
The air grew significantly colder. Sirius noticed it immediately, freezing stock still and pushing himself back into the corner. The air grew oppressive and it was then that Regulus knew the dementors were making their rounds. Even the light from the stars outside seemed to be sucked into a black hole of darkness. He stood, standing in front of his brother and looking down at him.
"Did you figure out the wandless Patronus?" He asked urgently, receiving no response, "Sirius?"
His brother only shook his head, muttering under his breath. Regulus knew his years in Azkaban had scarred him; the muggles called it post-traumatic stress disorder, he believed, except Sirius's nightmare wasn't over quite yet. As the creatures rounded the corner, he noted that they were the ugliest things Regulus had ever laid his eyes on, and still his very form trembled in front of them. They couldn't kill him, that much was true, but he was still a being with energy and memories, most importantly. They sucked every good one out, brought to mind every devastating experience, and gave him a sense of hopelessness that would have brought him to his knees if he still had an actual body. Their hands were scabbed and rotting as the cell door opened magically, their forms cloaked in long, ratty cloaks and they glided towards the brothers. Their breaths rattled in the dead silence of the air, only disrupted by Sirius's frantic whispering.
Regulus tried to keep his chin high as they approached, but-
-
He woke up to blinding pain, every nerve of his body on fire, and as his eyes shot open he could blearily make out his mother standing at the end of his bed.
"Where has he gone?" She screeched, her voice hoarse from all the yelling the night before, "Where is he?"
Regulus tried to find words, but couldn't even open his mouth from how tightly his teeth were ground together.
"Useless boy!" She snarled, releasing him from the Cruciatus Curse, his body falling slump against the bedsheets.
"Convorto!" She let another curse pass her lips, the harsh red light enveloping him in pain once more.
-
"Sirius!" He tried to grab his brother by the arm, worried when he'd seen the tear tracks running down his brother's face, "Siri, wait-!"
His brother jerked his arm from Regulus's grasp, the sneer startling, "Just go run back downstairs and be mommy's little golden boy, why don't you? Never saying a word, just sitting still and accepting all the shit she says!"
He could feel his face drop, but it elicited no sympathy from his brother. He heard a door slam shut, and he never saw Sirius in the house again.
-
His mother's grip was tight, her fingernails digging crescent moons into the flesh of his forearm, and he tried to hold back his tears because he was surrounded. Not only was Bellatrix and Narcissa at his side, but so were his mother and father and his aunts and uncles. The rest of the Death Eaters were scattered around the clearing, he even spotted Snape in the back, and in front of him was Lord Voldemort himself.
"I bestow the honor of my mark upon you, young Heir Black." The voice was silky and evil still wore a handsome face then, the Dark Lord not turning his eyes red and his skin dull by cutting up his soul yet.
The pain was bright hot and excruciating. He felt like his arm would melt off, almost like it was a Crucio all centered at one point of his body. He didn't scream or close his eyes, though. He stared unflinchingly ahead, aware of all the eyes on him and aware of his mother's sharp gaze even more than the Dark Lord's.
"Welcome, Regulus." Voldemort said when it was done.
Regulus hurt, and he was tired, and he felt like throwing up and screaming until his throat was raw. He did none of that and instead let his mother guide him home.
-
He was weak, and a coward.
He stood on the roof of Grimmauld Place, the cold night air surrounding him, and not for the first time considering stepping off it. It would be so easy, and it didn't really have any consequences. His father was dead, not that Orion truly cared for him beyond his newfound status of Heir. His mother was locked in her rooms, so deep in her grieving she wouldn't know and likely wouldn't care besides perhaps lamenting that she'd raised a spineless whelp. His brother...Sirius was on the right side of the war. He was fine, and he was happy, and he certainly didn't give a shit about Regulus. Kreacher wasn't even here now, the Dark Lord had borrowed him for a task and he'd let his friend go at his mother's behest. He didn't want the house-elf to be the one to find his body; he knew it would break Kreacher's heart.
He dangled one foot over the edge, toying with the idea of letting his weight carry him all the way down into sweet freedom.
He heard the crack of apparating and knew Kreacher had returned.
He turned around and entered the house once more through his bedroom window.
-
His last moments were a blur; there was a blast of fire as hands rose from the lake, black smoke encircling him as sharp fingers grabbed him by the ankles. The inferi were quickly gaining on him, crawling out from the murky depths of the lake. The smoke entered his nostrils and mouth, putrid and impossible to escape, and it tasted of ash and smelled like death. As they pulled him under, he sucked in lungfuls of water as he screamed for help. He called his brother's name, he called Kreacher's, he screamed until the water silenced him once and for all, and darkness stole his vision at last.
-
He was shaking when he came to, someone shaking his shoulder from where he was curled on the ground.
"R-Reg?" He heard Sirius' voice shaking, "Are you alright?"
He was shaking, he felt like his soul had been ripped to shreds and sewn back together, and he was most certainly alright. Sirius had apparently dragged him to the corner he'd sat in, fear flashing in his eyes as the Dementor grew closer, and Regulus realized his life flashing before his eyes had happened in a matter of seconds. From an outsider's perspective it would almost be funny; his brother dragging the corporeal form of a spirit to safety. Still, he could find little humor at the moment.
He didn't respond, he couldn't even if he wanted to, but he saw his brother's pale face and knew what he'd see; James and Lily both dead, likely his years of torture in Azkaban, the years of abuse suffered at the hands of their mother. He pushed himself up to his feet, jaw clenched even as he felt himself slipping from the mortal plane. It was cold, so cold, but his brother had suffered enough. He'd protected Regulus as long as he could, fought on the right side of the war only to lose everything, had been sentenced to an eternity hell-bent on taking his sanity.
"Regulus!" His brother shouted, "Be careful, we don't even know what they'll do to ghosts-!"
His hands shook, but he had to be brave. For once in his life, he wanted to be brave. He thought of the Patronus spell, but he had no wand, no way of casting, but magic was just energy. It was energy in its purest form, and wizards were able to wield it. What was Regulus now if not pure energy?
"A Patronus." He whispered, thinking desperately for a good memory as the Dementors closed in with their breath-taking chill, "Expecto Patronum."
He could hear Sirius whimper from behind him, likely expecting what was to come, and Regulus screwed his eyes shut. His mind raced, from the day he was placed in Slytherin to the day he died. All of his memories were tainted now; every one of his mother and father had the shadow of death and abuse, Narcissa had been taken over by her propaganda, he couldn't think of his brother without pain, it felt like every single memory from his life had been tarnished. Except...he could remember Harry's face lighting up when they entered Ollivanders, his excitement at the bookstore, the smugness whenever Regulus had threatened to shave his Uncle Vernon's mustache off in his sleep if the man didn't keep his trap shut. That kid was the only thing Regulus had managed to not mess up in his entire life and death; Harry was like a brother to him, someone he wanted to protect with a ferocity he'd only ever felt a couple of times before.
Like now. He supposed he felt that same ferocity now.
"Expecto Patronum." He snarled into the dead silence, and he saw the bright silver light swirling around his fingers. From the light sprouted a fully-formed fox, the creature leaping on air towards the Dementors, who turned away with a horrible hiss. They backed away from the cell, the door swinging shut with an echoing clang, and Regulus was quick to collapse on the ground as if his knees were made of jelly.
When he looked at Sirius, his brother was watching him with wide, stunned eyes. Regulus supposed it was probably a feat he should be proud of; he'd never heard of a ghost figuring out how to do magic before. Then again, thus far he'd been a very atypical ghost.
"Of bloody course, it was a fox." Was the first thing Sirius said when his teeth stopped chattering, "Also, what the actual hell?"
Regulus just made a vague hand gesture.
"Since when could you do wandless magic?' Sirius pressed on, confusion and excitement overtaking the lingering fear of the Dementors clinging to the room, "Since when could ghosts do magic at all?"
"I don't know." Regulus said, shaking his head and staring down at his palms, "I really don't. The only thing I do know is that Harry is going to be thrilled."
Remus was asleep on the count when he finally followed the pull that led him to Harry. The boy was like a beaming light, attracting any ghost with enough wits to sense it, so he'd always be able to find the brat. He simply walked through the door, remaining unseen as he looked around. There were a couple of plants sitting on the kitchen counters, half wilted, and two empty bottles of butterbeer sat on the table, along with a few chocolate frog wrappers. The werewolf had probably bribed Harry with sweets to get him to go to bed. Other than that the place was spick and span, void of life, and obviously a rental. Plain beige walls, dark hardwood floors; the place was a picture-perfect example of neutrality.
Sighing, he made himself visible and flicked on the light, startling Remus awake.
"You're back." Lupin muttered, rubbing his eyes, "Harry was worried."
"Have you gotten any sleep at all?" Regulus raised an eyebrow, "Beyond your nap, that is?"
"Not particularly, no." Remus said, sheepishly, "I was anxious, I guess, I wanted-"
"To hear about Sirius?" He interrupted, not unkindly, "I just got back from talking with him."
"What did he say?" The question was hesitant as if the older man feared the answer.
"In general? Azkaban is Hell and he's still horrible at taking other's feelings into account." Regulus said drolly, taking a seat in a chair that was opposite Remus' couch, "About you in particular? Furious that Dumbledore treated you the way he did, and very happy Harry is with you now."
Remus was quiet for a moment, regret swimming in his eyes, and the subject change was abrupt but expected.
"Surely he'll-" Remus bit his lip, "Surely his aunt and uncle will notice, right? He was kidding earlier?"
"When they notice he and his things are gone, they'll throw a party." Regulus smiled slightly, "If only to get the ghost rooted from their home."
Remus gave him a wary look, "Are you alright? You look, well, I didn't think ghosts could look tired, but you do."
"I'm fine, my brother just has a talent for picking at old wounds." Regulus gave him a wry smile, "Nothing to worry about."
"You seem like you're flickering." The werewolf continued delicately, as if not wanting to alarm him, "You've been fairly good at staying corporal before, and-"
"Well, I cast a Patronus charm." Regulus said, just a touch flippant, "Dementors are a pain."
Remus gave him a silent, wide-eyed stare.
"Before you ask, no, I don't know how. By all intents and purposes, I'm dead; I have no body or wand. I just figured at the time that energy is energy, and it worked."
The other man's eyebrows rose, "Do you realize how dangerous that could be? You're a ghost, you have very limited energy anyways, what if it turns out to be finite?"
"As in, I disappear if I use it up?" Regulus glanced away, "I had not...considered that."
"For however smart you are, you're reckless." Remus pinched the bridge of his nose.
A sound like a scoff escaped him, "I know the Gryffindor who allowed his friends to become illegal animagi is not accusing me of being reckless?"
Remus just gave a weary sigh as he stood, looking like he was bone-tired, which was probably true, "Just be careful, okay? Harry would be heartbroken if you were gone, and other people care about you too."
(Who?)
The thought came unbidden, and he knew what his brother would say if he caught him thinking like that, so he just nodded. Remus gave him a look like he saw past the facade, past the bullshit, and it chilled Regulus to his core. The werewolf was too attuned to people, that much was certain.
"Goodnight, Regulus." Was all he said, softly, before he quietly walked down the hallway to his room.
By the morning, when Harry flew into the room and tackled him into a hug, he felt steadier.
He felt whole.
Like the magic that had flickered at his fingertips earlier wouldn't be his demise, perhaps it would be something else altogether. Maybe it wasn't finite at all, though the concern was still alarming, maybe the energy was all around him in this in-between place he haunted, and maybe he could make use of it. Maybe it was infinite.
Regulus was, for the first time since his death, truly eager to find something out.
