Chapter Text
Regulus Black is tucked away quietly in his bedroom, trying to work his way through the Political History book Grandfather Pollux recommended to him, but it isn't sinking in. Sirius has been in the upstairs sitting-room with Mother for perhaps five minutes, and even before they started shouting, the tones of the conversation were acrimonious.
'Opinion is divided as to whether the Bloodline Preservation Act of 1946 is more advantageous or detrimental to the Traditionalist faction of the Wizengamot,' the paragraph opens.
"I like Dumbledore a hell of a lot better than I like you!" Sirius yells, and Regulus wishes he wouldn't. Of course Sirius is very wrong even to think these things, but even if he thinks them, it's foolish to say them. He knows Mother won't like it, and he knows what Mother does when she's angry. Regulus tries to focus.
'...of the Wizengamot: while recognition of the centuries-old bloodlines of the Great Families as National Treasures of Wizarding Britain was long overdue, the Act also permits unprecedented interference in the previously private affairs of those same Great Families, moreover with the implication that the Ministry might consider itself to have tutelary powers over the Families, eroding their sovereignty, whereas as we all know, true sovereignty lies with the Families themselves, the Wizengamot a mere device-' Regulus is distracted mid-sentence by the way Mother's voice shrieks.
"That son of a mudblood, muggle-loving-"
'...a mere device to facilitate collective action, and the Ministry a simple enforcing and organisational offshoot of the Wizengamot, however much power it might have accreted, little by little, in the scant few centuries since the establishment of Secrecy and the corresponding withdrawal from Muggle courts and governing bodies-'
"...that any son of mine-"
'...and governing bodies; the shocking reversal of the established norm would be unbearable were it not for the strict limitations on the circumstances-'
"...suborning-"
'...on the circumstances wherein the Ministry may exercise the power it has effectively afforded itself (with the Ministry seats having voted unanimously for the Act); that is to say-'
"...treachery... "
'that is to say, that this 'oversight' may only occur if a House-'
"...shame of my womb-"
'...if a House is close to extinction.'
There, he's reached the end of the sentence, finally, but he has no memory of any of it, what it means. He returns to the beginning of the paragraph, but it's all swimming before his eyes, and now Mother's enumerating all the tribulations she suffered while carrying and birthing Sirius, and why she now deeply regrets it, and also regrets not strangling him at birth. Oh, and he's profaning the house of her fathers. Regulus likes to hear the history of the London seat, the details of the artwork, furniture and fittings, but he wishes they didn't come with so many reminders of what a disappointment to the family Sirius is. Regulus sighs and sets the book aside, has a look in his desk drawer. He's out of willowbark extract and laudanum, but he still has some wound-cleaning potion. And bruise balm. It's been a while since Father and Mother stopped at just bruising Sirius. Regulus' brother is making them go further and further, as they try desperately to rein him in, and he will not be told.
"...your hateful stupid mausoleum to your stinking traditional ideals, all that useless rubbish, plug-ugly statues..."
"This is a Claus of Innsbruck, you utter barbarian! His Slytherin Imbued with the Spirit of Merlin, bronze-cast and worth more than if it had been in gold, but what would you know about moments of inspiration, about worthy heirs to grand legacies, nothing gets through your skull, you worthless little-"
"Mum, don't! Aaargh!" First Sirius interrupts Mother - uncouth! - and then he's actually howling in frustration before stomping off - even worse. And yes, he is stomping as he descends from the third floor to the second, and those are definitely his footsteps. Regulus himself walks towards his bedroom door, treading as lightly as possible. He can already hear Father's study door opening, onto the corridor the other side of the landing, Father's footsteps approaching. Father is a proper Black who has pride in his name and doesn't sneak. Regulus eases the door open a crack, slowly, quietly, then sits cross-legged. His father is less likely to catch his eyes if he isn't at eye level. Regulus hopes Father will be focused enough on Sirius not to notice his younger son. He often is. Regulus suspects Father doesn't even know what marks Regulus got on his end-of-term exams. Regulus doesn't worry their father the way Sirius does, and Regulus ought not to resent that. Regulus ought not to be snooping, either, but he has to know.
Srius and Father arrive on the landing at the same time. There is blood running down the side of Sirius' face, soaking into the black garment he's wearing. A muggle t-shirt, of all the things. Bad enough he wears those at Hogwarts on the weekends, but at Grimmauld Place, the secondary seat of the Family from before the Statute - well, it's a provocation, no more and no less. Mother was provoked. Father looks the same as ever, frowning a little. He isn't pointing his wand at Sirius - yet - but he isn't happy.
"Where do you think you're going?" he asks.
"I'm off to the Potters'." Not asking permission, just informing. Sirius...
"You're not going anywhere like that." Not in those clothes, not in that state of disarray, of course he mustn't, but that isn't an outright 'no', so if only Sirius will be reasonable enough to cross the landing, come to his room next to Regulus', get cleaned up and then go, Father might not stop him. Some space to cool down might do everyone some good. Regulus almost begins to relax.
And then Sirius scoffs, and starts moving again, heading down the next flight of stairs. It all happens at once.
"Fuck off," Sirius tells Father, and Father's hand shoots out and slaps him across the face, hard, and Sirius is falling. Regulus already has his wand out to summon the Wound-Cleansing Potion.
"Arresto Momentum," he casts, and Father's head jerks up, Father has seen him, and Sirius is still falling, slower, but falling. There's a snap as Sirius negotiates the corner of the first-floor landing, rolling slowly, sliding down the last bit of stairs to the front hall, and a crunch as he tries to stand and make for the door, only to discover his left leg won't hold him. He falls again and lies still.
"Kreacher!" Regulus calls. "Go to St Mungo's at once and fetch an emergency Mediwizard for Sirius! The first available, witch or wizard, bloodline immaterial!" Regulus hears the elf pop away, and then his own bedroom door is slammed open, his father is standing over him with a fury on his face that Regulus has only ever seen directed at Sirius, and then all Regulus knows is pain.