The Silent Place (Harry Potter Fanfic)

Cacophony of Grimmauld Place

Screams from below pierced the floor.

Regulus closed his eyes, wishing to no avail for the throbbing sensation in his head to go away. He swallowed, making out a few words his mother and Sirius screamed at each other while his fingers clutched his quill tighter. He swallowed, trying to think despite the pounding headache.

"Don't worry," he told himself. "It will quiet down soon enough."

Except, it didn't.

How Sirius and Walburga Black could continue arguing for so long, he didn't know, for the loud noise couldn't be pleasant. "Take away my dislike for loud noises, though...."

A loud bang came from one of the floors below, making Regulus flinch, nearly knocking over his ink pot. He turned to look at the empty piece of paper in front of him, scowling, and—

Unsure of how he truly felt, he simply said aloud, "I'm supposed to be studying, so what are they thinking, making this place unbearable for the purpose of studying."

"Then go elsewhere," a voice in his head said.

Regulus closed his eyes, trying to argue with the voice in his head. "Maman doesn't like it when we leave the house."

This wasn't exactly true, as she let them go and get their school supplies to visit approved friends—Sirius had none approved, and Regulus had no friends—to attend school and any functional gathering expected of the Black. What she didn't like was the idea of either of them wandering among Muggles, among those who couldn't use magic. "They're inferior to us," she would say. "So we don't mingle."

"If you don't leave and go elsewhere," the voice in his head, "then you won't be able to study at all. Don't forget OWLs are next year, and you need to do well."

More loud shouting came, and the words Regulus picked up, indicating Walburga and Sirius were arguing about the grades Sirius got on his OWLs from the previous year. Regulus took a deep breath, knowing that when his brother didn't perform to expectations, he was expected to make up for it.

"Why do you always have to make me look bad, Reggie?" Sirius said the other day.

"That's not it," he'd said, unable to tell his brother how unfair it was for Sirius to purposefully mess up, to always break the rules, to not care about good grades even though he could get them, thus always leaving it to him to pick up the slack regarding their parents' wishes.

"Sure it is," Sirius said.

"Definitely not getting any sympathy from him," Regulus said, making up his mind, wondering at that moment if Sirius was purposefully trying to mess up his study time to bring him down to the same level, a level entirely inappropriate for a Black.

Regulus reached for a book bag and placed the books in it, expecting Sirius to burst into the room whenever there was a lull in the conversation. Yet, Sirius didn't even as the youngest Black brother placed a cap on his ink so he could secure it and his quill in his school bag before hoisting it over his shoulder.

He winced the moment he opened the door to his room, closing his eyes as a barrage of words came from down below and—

"Yeah. They're arguing about OWLs. And," Regulus frowned, hearing some choice words about almost getting someone killed. He shook his head before starting down the stairs.

He arrived on the landing of his father's study and turned, expecting, if not hoping, his father would open the door just to tell Sirius and Walburga to stop arguing, that they were disturbing the peace, and yet he'd done no such thing. Nor did he realize that his youngest son was outside, contemplating what felt like the unthinkable.

Shaking his head, Regulus started down the stairs, mind set on finding a peaceful place to study where no family member could interfere. The yelling between Sirius and his mother continued, causing him to pause on the landing where the drawing room was. Neither noticed him, but he did see Walburga trying to take ahold of Sirius' ear while Sirius stayed a few feet ahead.

And for a moment, he opened his mouth to say something about how foolish they looked but then snapped it shut, not wanting to bring their mother's wrath down on them, particularly since Sirius hadn't appreciated the previous times he'd done so. He instead started down the stairs and left through the front door without anybody noticing, for they never really saw him about the house.

Regulus stood there, standing on the front step of Grimmauld's place, staring wide-eyed at the Muggle street as those metal boxes Muggles liked so much whizzed by. And then he swallowed before saying, "I can't believe I'm doing this."

He looked around, unsure of a direction to go, his hand nervously going for a wand and then stalling when he realized he shouldn't, but he did need to know which direction he took, which wasn't much of a problem as he only needed to note landmarks.

The metal boxes made him slightly nervous, moving along the streets as he did. Yet, Regulus couldn't help but feel Sirius would laugh at him if he found out, what with Sirius being head over heels for the metal box with the two wheels, the death trap of a Muggle device, as their mother said.

At the first corner he came to, Regulus needed clarification about what to do, such as how he should get past the metal boxes without magic. He let out a sigh, frustrated at not knowing what to do, so he instead turned right at that corner and continued down the sidewalk, passing the Muggles also walking on the sidewalk.

Yet, at the next corner, Regulus realized not crossing the street and finding a non-magical way past the metal boxes would, in turn, result in him eventually coming back to Grimmauld, and while the walk would mean a break from his brother and mother arguing, it didn't really serve the purpose of finding a place that was quiet where he could study.

Regulus took a deep breath. "She's going to kill me if she finds out."

"Yes, but she and Sirius were the ones who drove you from the house in the first place."

"That logic, dear head, is not something she'll listen to, but since I've decided on this path...." Regulus took a deep breath and started stepping out into traffic, only for a hand to latch onto his arm tightly.