Only the Brave

Chapter 7: We'll be heroes

Monday morning mail is always chaotic. Loud. Regulus hates it. The owls flap their wings and make entirely too much noise. Letters and packages flutter and land with dull thuds up and down the four tables, often overturning cups of tea or making the cutlery clink. It stresses him out.

He is used to it, though, so Regulus remains impassive through it. He carries on eating his breakfast as a letter drops in Dorcas' lap, smacking the toast she's eating out of her hand in the process. He doesn't flinch when Evan receives the newspaper and it knocks over his tea, which spills all over Barty's trousers so he jumps out of his seat cussing Evan's owl out. Regulus doesn't even look up from his eggs and his black coffe.

Barty's mother's owl drops a letter on Barty's toast. He gives it the evil eye, and doesn't bother picking it up until he's used his wand to dry his trousers. He sits back down, stares the letter down like he might set it on fire with his mind.

Regulus never receives mail, so he's very much not paying attention when the owl drops a package that hits him over the head before bouncing on the table and knocking over his coffee. He watches the dark stain spread with mournful eyes before glaring up at the owl, indignant.

He doesn't recognize the owl. Never seen it before. It's large, and well cared for. Its feathers are glossy, full. Intelligent eyes watch him, probably waiting for a treat it is not going to get. Not after spilling his coffee.

"Whose are you?" He murmurs under his breath, turning the package in his hands. It's small and light. Wrapped a little clumsily in simple, brown paper.

He brings it to his ear and gives it a little shake, but nothing rattles inside. Hmm.

Regulus starts peeling the paper wrapping before his brain catches up with his actions and his hands still. He doesn't know who sent this, or what it is. It could be a prank of some sort. It could be... what could it be? The only people he can think of that would want to send him something are sitting with him, all distracted by their letters or, in Evan's case, by the Daily Prophet.

It could be from home but that's unlikely. His mother has never sent him anything before. Walburga Black isn't the sort to send him a surprise gift. She does buy him stuff. More stuff than he needs. Walburga is obsessed with giving Regulus the best of everything—see the collection of brooms he's accumulated over the past few years. It's as though she thinks buying him shit makes up for the lack of everything else.

It never worked with Sirius—he was so over material stuff. He'd reject it all and throw tantrums that ended with him getting hurt. Or starved. Or both. It doesn't really work with Regulus either, but he's smarter. He's always been. So he knows to thank and nod when the gifts are given, and Walburga stays mostly out of his way. Except her presents always come on a day when it makes sense. His birthday. Christmas. The day before going back to school. Walburga Black isn't a spontaneous woman. And Orion doesn't breathe without permission from his wife, so obviously it's not from him.

Regulus should be more concerned, but the honest truth is that he's curious. If anyone's playing a prank on him, he'll take great pleasure in trunking it and then planning payback. He's curious and wants to see what's in this little unexpected gift he's received. Just not here.

Regulus pockets the package without opening it.

"Oh wow," Barty exclaims all of a sudden. "What the hell happened to him?"

"Huh?" Regulus looks up, follows Barty's line of sight. The air punches out of his lungs.

James is late for breakfast. This isn't a big deal. Everyone's late for breakfast every now and then. But he... James looks like he had a fight with a banshee and lost it. He's dishevelled, and walks as thought his legs can't carry him properly. There's a defeated air to him and a bruise starting to bloom over his jaw. Right where Regulus touched him in the infirmary.