The Marauders: Year Six Part 2 #Wattys2017

Fiddlefaddle

Fiddlefaddle

There was something about the way Regulus's voice lilted with urgency that made Sirius Black follow after his younger brother. He spared a glance to see to it that Moony was helping James up from the ground and he bolted after Regulus, ducking 'round the butterbeer cart peddler and 'round a witch selling enchanted flowers from a basket. Regulus was already quite a ways ahead in the crowded street, and Sirius jogged after him, his breath causing great clouds in the air before him as he moved. Regulus moved with purpose and speed, as though wishing to get away, to leave something behind, and Sirius had to push through clusters of witches and wizards to keep up, his stride shorter than his brother's... and he wondered fleetingly when it had been that little Regulus had grown so tall.

They reached the Leaky Cauldron and Sirius finally caught up with Regulus at the brick archway into the pub and they stood, breathless, facing one another as the bricks rearranged to allow them passage through. "What's going on, Reg?" Sirius asked.

Regulus looked back the way they'd come. "Not yet. Not here. Too many eyes, too many ears." And Regulus squished himself through the still parting bricks, which had parted only just wide enough for him to move through.

Sirius leaped after him, nearly slipping on a puddle of spilled drink in the door.

The air in the Leaky Cauldron smelled of firewhiskey and dust, and Tom, the bartender, looked up as the two teenagers slipped past. Sirius nodded at him as Tom absently wiped the counter with an old rag, and watched as the two brothers went up the stairs together and disappeared into the hall above.

Regulus drew a room key halfway along the corridor, and he opened a door marked with a number 4 and pushed his way into the room, pausing only briefly in the frame to wait for Sirius to follow, and closing it firmly behind them as Sirius stepped past him into the room.

Maryrose Jenkins sat reading in the firelight, curled up with a blanket over her knees. She looked up when they entered and dropped her book onto the table at her elbow, her hair a pale blonde and eyes a bright blue. "Hi Sirius," she greeted him. "Hey Regulus."

There was something in her voice at the way she said Regulus that almost trembled.

Sirius recognized it because his voice often lilted that very same way over the name Remus.

"Hullo..." Sirius said, looking from Maryrose to Regulus with a sort of suspicious glance.

Regulus pointed to a chair, offering Sirius a seat, and Sirius shook his head. "Tea?" Maryrose offered, but again Sirius shook his head.

"Honestly, I'd rather just hear what you've got to say and be on my way," Sirius said, looking at Regulus.

Regulus looked to Maryrose, who nodded encouragingly, and then back to Sirius, determination in his eye. "Look, Sirius, you're not going to believe me, I already know you won't - not yet, at least - so I'm not going to play at pretending you are." He took a deep breath, "But I do hope that what I say will... dunno, sort of stick with you so that you'll see it soon, on your own, and remember what I said."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, already skeptical.

Regulus stared at his brother rather pleadingly. "Have you noticed anything rather odd about James Potter lately?"

Sirius had.

Of course he had.

James Potter was his best mate. He knew everything about him, nearly - and perhaps even more so - as much as he knew Remus. James Potter was his real brother, his second half. James Potter and Sirius Black often made the same faces at the same time, could practically read one another's minds, could finish each other's sentences. Sirius could do a spot-on impression of all of James Potter's mannerisms - from his sneeze to the way he sort of scratched his chin with his quill feather tip while concentrating at a test. Often, he'd entertained Remus on long moon nights with his impressions of their friends and though his Peter Pettigrew impression was not lacking in quality, there was just nothing quite like how bloody perfect his James Potter was.