The Day the Music Died | Jegulus, Wolfstar

The Glistering Mirror

Hey (hey) what's the matter with your head, yeah.
Hey (hey) what's the matter with your mind and your sign and oh.
Hey (hey) nothin' the matter with your head.
Baby, find it, come on and find it.
Bear with it, baby, 'cause you're fine.
And you're mine, and you look so divine.

James didn't recall climbing the stairs of the astronomy tower that quickly since the marauder's last mission a few years ago, which consisted of vanishing all the telescopes to the grounds, — until today one was still to be found. Raw anticipation spread to the tip of his frigid fingers, as he turned his words a thousand times to find out exactly what to say. The truth was that he didn't want to say anything. He wanted to know if Regulus was alright, if the dark circles under his eyes had disappeared, and if his wrists had got a bit thicker than three fingers. The metal railing spiralled upwards as James boosted himself up it, the palms of his hands freezing as the metal made contact with his skin. Oh, but irrelevant, — as his boot-covered feet reached the last staircase, a frigid gush of wind made him tumble backward, he held on to the columns at either side. Glasses foggy and heart pounding, he was met but a quiet sigh and a dark silhouette still as clouds surrounded it. Regulus waited for him, dressed in his deep black robes and hunched shoulders, his usually messy locks falling on his temples like an unmoving cascade, — he didn't look any better than the last day James had seen him.

Their eyes met with a breeze, deep and stern, — Regulus flared his nostrils, his jaw raising as his eyelids narrowed. He held his gaze long enough on James until he could feel safe in his presence, then, he motioned him to come closer, his soft presence simultaneously warm and unsettling. "We don't have much time, James. I believe Barty is to find me; he won't take long," the boy mumbled, voice gruff and hoarse.

  "What do you mean we have no time? For what?" Regulus stared at him sternly, but didn't answer. His eyes were droopy, as if the hanging eye-bags pushed his flesh down. James took slow, steady steps on the cold stone, squinting as the little light that illuminated the boy melted with the falling sun. "Reg," he said, but the other's eyes didn't soften, not as they had done on all their last meetings.

  "I shouldn't have done it, but it was unfair to you. Caused enough trouble as it is."

  "Are you alright, Reg?" He frowned, stepping lightly closer to Regulus, who was leaning by the railing in the farthest corner of the room. He didn't do much when James took his place beside him, his eyes scanning all the way to the bottom of his feet before they returned to his eyes. "Your hand, who did that?"

Regulus pursed his lips in a frustrated manner, sighing deeply as he concealed both of his hands on his pockets; they were blemished, cut with thin still bleeding scars. It said a phrase, James could only catch the first few words: 'I must not...'

  "I'm fine," Regulus breathed, his locks falling to his forehead as his usually high jaw dropped tiredly.

  "You don't look fine."

  "Then stop looking," he hissed, as if he meant to raise his voice but thought better. James didn't flinch, holding his dark blue eyes until the boy broke their stare-off with a quick turn of his head, running his thin fingers from his eyes to the back of his head. "Listen, James," he mumbled, so quietly it was hard to hear him over the wind, which whistled so loudly at the highest tower of Hogwarts. "I am not here for you to check on me, nor do I wish for you to help me. I wanted you to know, — hoping you'll share it with my darling brother," his face scrunched up at that, James simply shrugged. "I assume you've heard about the Dark Lord, — I assume you heard of the attacks... yes. I am certain he's behind it, and I am not the only one. He is not exactly trying to hide it. Something dark is happening, inside Hogwarts, I know..." he sighed. "I know my family is to blame for many of those attacks. I reckon Sirius has figured that bit out. Still, I know I will be forced to participate in those events. Meetings in my own home have been so constant, — I can hear the whispers through the walls. Mum says she expects great things of me, she expects me to 'fulfil' my duties as the heir Sirius could not be as soon as I am of age."