The Hunt | Regulus Black

My Brother

– Sirius Black –

Sat at the kitchen table of the house I grew up in, feels like an unsettling journey back into the shadows. The table, a heavy, worn slab of wood, seems to absorb the chill and darkness that permeates the air. The chairs, solid but uncomfortable, bear the weight of unspoken tensions and strained silences.

Memories of awkward dinners, the absence of hugs, and the usual anxiousness that follows you from room to room. Nothing has truly changed, Lily and Theodora bring a sense of warmth to the house, but it's not enough to scrub the thickness of the painful memories that cling to the walls.

Each day I spend here, seeing Regulus every day, guilt hangs over me like a heavy fog, shrouding everything in a muted grey. It coils around my thoughts, a relentless whisper that stirs unease in my chest. Each memory surfaces like a jagged stone, sharp and uncomfortable, making it hard to breathe. I feel it in the pit of my stomach, an ache that never quite fades, a reminder of choices made and words left unspoken.

The same words echo in my head "You shouldn't have left him".

Guilt, casting a shadow over my accomplishments, tainting moments of joy with a sense of unworthiness. When I laugh or find peace, there's a nagging reminder lurking just beneath the surface, as if I don't deserve the light. The weight of it can be suffocating, isolating me from those around me, creating a barrier that feels insurmountable. It's a constant companion, always there, a reminder of the complexities of my past and the burdens I carry.

How do I fix this?

The light in the room is dim, filtered through heavy curtains that block out the warmth of the sun. The atmosphere is thick with an unshakeable sense of heaviness, as if the walls themselves are holding onto memories better left forgotten. The faint scent of old meals lingers, mingling with the dust that gathers in corners, each particle a reminder of neglect.

Across the table are the plans for today, the most pivotal plan we've had to orchestrate yet, we have no choice but for this to work. I stand up placing my hands either side of the large parchment, rereading and reciting the plans to check for any holes, any weaknesses.

Behind me I hear footsteps steadily approach, I angle my head and see Regulus. He doesn't seem to have slept a wink, he never was a good sleeper. When we were boys, I'd have to sit in his room reading to him until he fell asleep.

Looking at an exhausted Regulus, I see the weight of the world etched across his features. His normally assertive eyes are dull, shadows pooling beneath them like dark clouds. The tension in his jaw speaks volumes, a silent testament to battles fought both outside and within.

His posture is slumped, as if the very air around him has become too heavy to bear. There's a weariness in the way he runs a hand through his hair, fingers trembling slightly, as if even the simplest gestures require immense effort. The usual spark of mischief in his smile is dimmed, replaced by a pensive frown that hints at unspoken worries and lingering doubts.

Every line on his face tells a story of exhaustion - of sleepless nights and burdens too great for someone so young. It's a look that makes my heart ache, reminding me of the struggles he faces and the light that once shone so brightly within him, now clouded by fatigue and the weight of unfulfilled expectations.

It reminds me of the path I escaped, but allowed him to fall into.

"Morning" I say softly, offering a smile.

I watch as he walks over to the stove, placing the kettle on the hob.

"Didn't sleep either?" He responds, his eyes stapled on the plans for the day.

"Nope" I sigh.

As silence falls upon the room, it wraps around the two of us like a thick, heavy blanket. The air is charged with unspoken words, hanging between us like a fragile thread, ready to snap at any moment. Each glance shared is loaded with meaning, yet neither of us dares to voice the thoughts swirling in their minds.

The quiet stretches, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the world outside - a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing inside. Tension simmers beneath the surface, palpable and raw, filling the space with an almost tangible weight. The brothers sit, side by side yet miles apart, lost in their own reflections.

Memories flicker in my mind - moments of laughter, shared secrets, and the shadows of misunderstandings that have built walls between us. In this silence, the absence of dialogue feels deafening, a reminder of everything left unsaid, and the emotional chasm that time and distance have carved. It's a poignant pause, heavy with regret and longing, leaving them both yearning for connection but unsure of how to bridge the gap.

Suddenly the silence is pierced by the sharp, shrill whistle of the kettle. The sound cuts through the tension, breaking the stillness like a splash of cold water. We turn our heads almost in unison, momentarily startled, as if the kettle has summoned them back from their separate worlds.

The high-pitched whine escalates, insisting on attention, pulling them away from the weight of their unspoken words. Steam curls up from the spout, swirling in the air, adding warmth to the chilly atmosphere. It's a mundane yet comforting sound, a reminder of shared rituals - of cups of tea, laughter, and moments of ease that used to fill the space between them.

Regulus turns to turn off the kettle, the act feels almost ritualistic, a bridge across the emotional divide. The whistle fades, leaving a soft echo in its wake, and for a fleeting moment, the air is lighter. It's an invitation to reconnect, to fill the silence with something other than unspoken grievances, and perhaps to begin to unravel the complexity of their shared history.

Before any words can be said, Theodora enters a weary smile on her face. Regulus instinctively gets another mug out of the cupboard, almost like he can read her mind, I'm not wholeheartedly convinced he can't. It's like they have an unspoken and unconditional bond, one I've never seen before.

A bond that Reg and I once were on the cusp of, now we're more like strangers. Two souls living adjacent but intertwined lives, a type of intertwining that you can't ignore no matter how hard the guilt wraps around you.

Now we stand at the edge of a fragile reunion, almost looking in like an outer body experience. If only it was that easy to go back and change the notes, rewrite the tune. A bond that was once as thick as thieves, as our mother used to say, is now a sight my brain almost refuses to process.

The time apart has left invisible barriers - lives lived separately, paths diverged. We have grown in different ways, carrying our own burdens and regrets. But now, here we are, perhaps out of obligation or a need to do the right thing, spending time together again.

My mind flickers back to the moment I had found out about Reg receiving the dark mark, the ground beneath me crumbled. The shock hit first - a cold, hollow sensation in my chest as the reality set in. Once I heard, I immediately set out to find him, I saw him walking through a quiet corridor. Anger and disappointment at that potential truth surged through me, I pinned him against the wall, looking for the answer. Needing it to not be true.

When I saw the mark, stark against his skin, a symbol of everything I despise, everything I swore I'd never align with. The room closed in, the air became heavier, thick with unspoken words. My younger and only brother, once full of innocence and mischief, stood before me, his face a mix of defiance and something else - perhaps fear or regret.

I can remember searching his eyes, hoping to find the brother I once knew, but the sight of the mark makes it hard to look at him the same way. It's as if a dark cloud has wrapped itself around him, distorting the boy I grew up with into someone I barely recognise.

Anger rose up in me - anger at the choices he made, at the forces that led him to this, and mainly at myself for not helping him. I wanted to rescue him but I couldn't, I felt suffocated by the guilt of leaving him behind. I left him behind, all alone, and at that moment I felt like his life was ruined.

Seeing him now, someone who is dedicated to improving not only his future, but the future wizarding world generations. He is doing the unthinkable, betraying Voldemort. A man so terrifying that people are too petrified to say his name.

And yet, here Theodora and Reg are.. risking everything, including their lives.