Mixed Tape: Regulus' Story

Chapter 8: Wish You Were Here

Chapter specific content warnings: childhood abuse, abuse, implied grooming of a minor, talk of blood purity, loss of friends, panic attack, death

I waited for him to come back.

The world kept moving and I sat on the stairwell in the entrance hall with my knees pulled to my chest, waiting for Sirius to return. Distantly, my mother yelled at my father to guard me, though I couldn't figure out whether it was because I was a danger to myself or to them.

Father took away my wand—not that that made any difference—before simply standing in the doorway to the living room, staring like I was some animal on display at a zoo. Or maybe a piece of taxidermy. I'm sure he'd like that.

In the living room, my mother contacted someone through the fireplace. They spoke passionately, but I didn't have it in me to care much about who or why though it was likely about me.

I sighed and slouched further into the stairs, my heart panging in my chest to the point of pain. Sirius couldn't really be gone, could he?

If I was being realistic with myself, it was better for him to disappear and never return. Everyone was horrible to him—including me—and I didn't know where he'd go, but I was fairly certain that most places would be better for him than Grimmauld Place.

And mother had cursed him. That truly had been the final straw, hadn't it?

It was all under a bit of a haze, like the curse had never happened and I'd only watched it through a magical photograph. And yet it had all been real. His screams still echoed around my skull, my voice still suffocated me in my throat even without the silencing spell. I should have been angry. Or upset. Or maybe cried, but any emotion I was supposed to feel was solidly locked away in my stomach, churning like some potion that hadn't yet exploded. Everything was so wrong that it was hardly real.

He didn't say goodbye—

What a selfish fool I was.

I lost track of time on that stairwell as I watched the door, waiting for the impossible.

Eventually, my father grabbed me by the arm and yanked me out of my daze and down into the dining room where I was shoved into a high-backed chair at the head of the table. I'd never sat at the head of the table before, I'd never been important enough.

Igor appeared in the fireplace, as stern and bearded as ever. He was a sort of timeless man, one that never aged and yet had somehow never really been young, not in my memory anyways.

He squinted down at me but I kept my gaze firmly on the table.

This was all so pointless. What did it matter if Sirius wasn't here? None of this mattered.

"Wandless magic, you say?" He mumbled to my parents. "From him?"

Had I really though? I didn't think I was capable of that. And obviously, neither did he.

"Yes," my mother ground out. "Countered my spell."

"Which spell?"

"Silencio."

"And there's been no news from the Ministry?"

"None."

Igor pulled out the chair to my right and slid down beside me. "Tell me exactly what happened, Regulus," he demanded.

I stayed silent.

"We don't have time for your dramatics," he said with a fist on the table. "Speak."

But I didn't know how. Physically, I could, but my voice wasn't responding. It was like my brain was frozen. I could hardly even think.