FicWad

The day had just passed away and young Regulus lay in his bed, tossing and turning and unable to sleep. His stomach was churning, his whole body tingling, his mind was spinning; he would no longer be a child when he woke up in the morning. Soon, he’d be seven years old, no longer a baby but someone who mattered.

But for now, the house was quiet and dark. Everyone else was still asleep, and that included the Sun.

And so young Regulus tossed and turned some more, thinking about all he’d do the following day. He’d see his cousins again, and all of his aunts, uncles, grandparents ... the whole family would get together to celebrate his birthday, even his grandaunt Dorea and her husband Charlus, whom he hadn’t seen for two whole years, when they had been present for Sirius’ seventh, and Aunt Lucretia and her husband Ignatius, whom he hadn’t seen in months, not since Easter ...

The whole ordeal in the drawing room, Sirius’ odd behaviour in the playroom and his talk of running away were all forgotten about.

Sleep would not come, not even after hours of lying there, so Regulus decided it was useless to stay in bed. He went over to his wardrobe, ready to face the first challenge that came with his new age: choosing what to wear.

There were so many robes. There were plain ones in all the colours he could think of: plum and maroon and emerald and gold and fiery red and purple and pink and even an ugly shade of yellowish green that reminded him of bile. Then there were embroidered robes, that showed the constellations or had the Black family crest on them. There were practical robes – that had capes already attached, or with elbow patches for rougher play – and there were charmed robes, which showed the wearer’s mood or warned of nearby spell-casting.

He ended up choosing one of the embroidered robes, with his own constellation and his own star shining brightest of all, because birthdays were a formal event and these robes were most suited to such occasions – oh, he was so grown-up already, he wondered what they could possibly have left to teach him!

The robes reached to his heels, and he’d never liked this length. His normal robes reached to his mid-calves and that was much preferable. Still, he understood growing older came with responsibilities and he knew he’d soon be wearing robes that reached the floor, and robes that were even longer, so it dragged over the floor, which was the height of adultness and therefore something that excited Regulus beyond words.

When he was finally fully dressed and ready to head down, hat and all, the first rays of light made their way through the window.

That was his cue. The day had begun.

He descended the many stairs that separated his bedroom and the dining room, where he was headed for breakfast, and came upon many festive decorations on the way down. Garlands and wreaths were all around him, as was the number seven, etched into each step he went down, shining brightly when he touched it with his hand. When he reached the ground floor he was greeted by a sparkling, hovering sign that read Happy birthday! and even the house-elf heads along the staircase had donned party hats!

He could hardly remember seeing his home ever having been this cheerful, aside from that one time two years ago when it had been Sirius’ seventh birthday. No other occasion had brought such items into the house. He doubted even his birth had. Or Sirius’.

It made him feel very important. He straightened his back and broadened his shoulders so he more closely resembled his father. He was a proper Black, after all, and that was how proper Blacks walked.

He opened the door to the dining room, hoping to find his parents inside, but it was empty aside from the family house-elf, Kreacher, who was working his magic to decorate the room with the same wreaths and garlands.

‘Wow,’ he breathed, getting go of the handle and taking in the room with awe. He forgot about being a proper Black at once.

It seemed to have alerted Kreacher, who stopped working and instead appeared in front of Regulus, bowing deeply.

‘It’s stunning,’ he said, feeling obliged to say something to the elf in the position he found himself now.

Kreacher livened up and looked happier than ever.

‘Is it all for me?’ he asked, taking in the scene around him once more, and remembering the decorations elsewhere in the house. It was simply too much.

But Kreacher nodded enthusiastically, his big ears flopping up and down as he did so. ‘All for Master Regulus’ big day,’ he croaked.

It was Regulus’ turn to smile now. ‘What about breakfast? Have you made any?’

‘Has Kreacher made any breakfast?’ the elf muttered, almost offended. ‘Of course, Master, of course!’

And he snapped his fingers and – plop – the table was set with all sorts of foods: scrambled eggs, omelettes, fried eggs, boiled eggs (hard and runny), broiled kidneys, kidneys on toast, collared sheep’s tongues, pig’s cheek and pork pie, thick-cut back bacon, baked halibut steaks, fried whiting, salmon, stewed figs, bananas, tomatoes, pheasant legs, pork and blood sausages with fried bread, warm crumpets, all kinds of marmalade and jam, some porridge, and a large pot of honey ...

It was, all in all, more food than he’d ever seen in one place. He was certain, yes – not even Sirius had had such a feast for his seventh. And all that for breakfast!

He sat down, feeling all giddy and overwhelmed by the amount of food and the options laid out in front of him, and just started with what lay closest to his plate, deciding to work his way from there.

And it was delicious, all of it. He never knew food could taste that good.

He was just helping himself to a second serving when the door opened again and Mother entered the room.

He gave her a wave, quickly emptied his mouth, and said, ‘Good morning! Kreacher’s made breakfast!’

‘I can see that,’ she muttered in return, taking up a seat opposite him. ‘You’re up early.’

‘I couldn’t sleep. I was far too excited about today.’

Mother smiled. ‘I was the same when I turned seven. All night I lay awake.’

Regulus frowned, trying to picture her as a seven-year-old.

‘Go on, finish your breakfast. Your brother will be up soon and then the peace and quiet will be gone.’

She had a good point there. He filled his plate with a few more things before he continued eating. Mother, too, filled up her plate.

They ate in silence, watching as Kreacher finished up the last of the decorations. Regulus had barely emptied his plate (and he really was too full to fill up another) when the door opened again, revealing Sirius and Father.

He had no time to greet them; Father pushed Sirius inside heavy-handedly, and marched over to the table, saying, ‘Walburga, I found your son dangling out of his bedroom window.’

‘You found him doing what?!’ Mother nearly choked and all but flew from her chair, and Father had to physically restrain Sirius from running away from her.

‘Walburga,’ came Father’s stern voice.

Mother came to an abrupt halt in front of them.

‘Are you out of your mind?’ she yelled, ‘what were you hanging out of a window for!’

But it was starting to dawn on Regulus; Sirius was wearing a travelling cloak, and in Father’s right hand was a duffel bag he’d no doubt taken with him.

‘He tried to run away,’ he mumbled, more to himself than to his parents, though that didn’t stop them from hearing it.

‘You tried to run away?!’ Mother repeated, spit flying everywhere. ‘Why in the name of— What would you run away for! All you know and need is here with us—’

‘Anywhere’s better than here with you,’ Sirius spat back. ‘I’d rather be a Muggle than spend another day in this place.’

Mother gasped. Father stood unmoving, face unreadable. Regulus could not believe his ears. Yesterday’s scenes came back to him, and yes, Sirius had been quite clear about his stances, but to actually run away ... to say he’d prefer being that ...

Father sighed. ‘I think it’s a good idea for Sirius to spend the rest of the day in his room – I’ve reinforced the window, he’s not going to be able to run off again – and think about what he did.’

Mother nodded at that, slowly retreating to her chair. ‘Yes, that’s a good idea,’ she mumbled, seemingly still in shock. Regulus couldn’t blame her; he was, too.

Father and Sirius left again and Regulus stared back at his empty plate. He was a little nauseous. All excitement he’d felt had evaporated and the thought of birthday celebrations and presents made him feel even sicker than he already was.

When Father returned, he was sent away. He and Mother had pressing matters to discuss and he wasn’t wanted for that conversation. He felt very small again when he trudged up the stairs.

He did not want to play, or have any fun at all. He passed the playroom and went up more stairs until he reached the topmost landing. Crying came from Sirius’ room but he ignored it – he was a dumb, annoying, horrible little Bundimun, that’s what he was. The worst brother ever.

He stayed in his bedroom all day, until Father knocked on his door to tell him his birthday celebrations were still happening, and he was expected downstairs in ten minutes.

And he went downstairs. Because that’s how he was, always listening when told to do something. He could make mistakes, yes, such as yesterday’s accident, but he’d never – never – do what Sirius did and go directly against their wishes, run away or wish for the unwishable.

Sirius was already in the entry hall, wearing some dumb plain robes in a bright blue colour and no hat at all. He had a stupid smirk on his face and looked far happier than he had any right to be.

Regulus looked to his parents, but they didn’t seem to mind. Their anger with Sirius never lasted long.

They waited for another ten minutes before the loud clanging of the doorbell sounded through the house.

Father nudged him. ‘Go on, open it.’

Regulus took a deep breath and walked over to the door, pulling it open, only to be nearly knocked to the floor by his enthusiastic grandparents.

Grandfather Arcturus pushed past him, instead going straight to Sirius, laughing ruffling his hair. ‘Ah, the little rascal, always manage to stand out, don’t you?’

Sirius only grunted in response, clearly unhappy about this arrangement, but Regulus watched in jealousy until he felt a hand on his own shoulder. He looked up.

Grandmother Melania stood there, smiling down upon him. ‘You’ll go places, love. Just don’t mind them.’

Regulus nodded. Not minding them, he could try that, for an evening. Hopefully.

It became much easier when Mother instructed Sirius to show them the dining room – and to stay there with them, leaving Regulus alone with his parents again, waiting for the next guests to arrive.

Seven minutes later, the doorbell sounded again. Again, Father told him to open the door, and again, he was nearly run over – this time by his cousin Bellatrix, who ran into the house, loudly arguing with her sister Narcissa, who followed closely. Neither paid much attention to Regulus. They were far too busy arguing about a supposed theft.

A few seconds later, Uncle Cygnus followed, shouting the matter could wait, for it was a birthday visit, which was meant to be joyful.

Lastly, Aunt Druella entered, mumbling a hasty apology and a “happy birthday” as she pulled along a sour-looking Andromeda. They, too, left for the dining room.

Mother and Father shared a glance Regulus could not decipher the meaning of, and then they were back to waiting.

The next guests were Aunt Lucretia and Uncle Ignatius, and they did pay him attention; Aunt Lucretia shook her head at him and said, ‘Oh, you’ve grown so much since I last saw you’, and Regulus had to bite back the comment that if she had visited more often, this growth wouldn’t be as surprising, and thanked her as she wished him a happy birthday. Uncle Ignatius followed her lead as she left for the dining room, clearly uncomfortable about something.

Uncle Alphard was next – Regulus could tell even before opening the door, because he used the knocker; Uncle Alphard always used the knocker – and also commented on his growth, making Regulus wonder if maybe he had just grown exceptionally much since they’d last seen him at Easter. Not much else was said, as Mother and Father glared angrily at Uncle Alphard until he left for the dining room, which he did rather quickly after noticing them.

His grandaunt Dorea and her husband were no better. They actually started the glaring at Mother and Father, and they wouldn’t stop until the door to the dining room closed behind them.

Regulus wondered how it would be if Cassiopeia hadn’t been thrown into Azkaban for her heroic chase of Muggles. Would she glare at Mother and Father? Would they glare at her? Or would she come barging in as if she owned the place? He could hardly remember her face at all, he’d been so young when she’d stopped visiting ...

The doorbell rang for the final time that evening, and he let in his other set of grandparents happily but exhaustedly, and followed them into the dining room (which was very loud, as all the guests were talking amongst themselves, some of them even arguing; Bellatrix and Narcissa were still going on about that theft). He sat down at the head of the table with his parents on either side, and saw Sirius on the other end near Uncle Alphard and Andromeda.

He did not get to rest for long. After only a few seconds, Mother rose again, taking her glass of champagne and saying, ‘Family, young and old, by blood and marriage – we gather here today to celebrate the seventh birthday of our beloved son, Regulus Arcturus Black!’

The dining room erupted into applause and cheer, and his Father nudged him. ‘Get up,’ he whispered.

Face red, Regulus got to his feet, staring around the table. ‘Er ... hi,’ he muttered, unsure if he should say something as well.

Mother laughed, and Father clasped him on the back, and the table filled up with delicious food right as they all sat back down. There had to be twice the amount of this morning, if possible, and Regulus found it difficult to choose where to start and what to eat. The choice was overwhelming.

Even more overwhelming was the way he heard his name from every corner of the table, muttered by aunts and uncles, grandparents and cousins – everyone seemed to have something to say about the birthday boy, but none seemed to have anything to say to him.

Not much had changed in that regard. Most compared him to Sirius still.

When dinner finally came to an end, Sirius was the first to move, forcing his chair back so loudly it creaked, before running out of the dining room.

‘I’ll check on him,’ Uncle Alphard said before anyone could respond, getting up from the table and leaving the room as well.

Not long after, Andromeda followed, just as the conversations resumed.

After a few more moments of sitting there, hearing his name left and right, he excused himself also. To check on his brother, but really to get away from the grownups talking about him.

He wandered around the house. Sirius was neither in his own bedroom nor in the drawing room, nor was he hiding in any of his usual spots around the house. He was starting to suspect him running away again when a thought entered his mind: the kitchen.

Sirius always loved the kitchen. It was a place neither Mother nor Father liked to come, which probably had a lot to do with it, but also a place of unlimited food – something he knew Sirius liked, even after an elaborate dinner.

And he was right. He heard voices coming from the other end of the door, and, though he couldn’t make out what they were saying, he recognised them as belonging to Sirius and Uncle Alphard.

When he opened the door, they fell silent.

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean—’

‘No, no, come. Join us, we weren’t talking about anything in particular,’ said Uncle Alphard, smiling brightly at him.

He hesitated for another second, then closed the door and sat down at the kitchen table as well.

‘So, dear boy, how do you feel on this special day?’ Uncle Alphard asked. ‘It’s a bit much, isn’t it?’

He nodded. ‘I don’t like having this many people talking about me all the time.’

His uncle smiled sympathetically and went to say something when they were interrupted by a “there you are!” coming from the doorway.

The voice belonged to his cousin Andromeda, who rattled on as she came over to the table. ‘Hiding away in the basement, I see? And you don’t think to include me? I have lots to say! Did you know that—’

‘Later, Andromeda. We have company,’ Uncle Alphard interrupted, gesturing to Regulus, whose face reddened once more. Andromeda looked at him as if he’d grown a second head.

‘What, me?’ he asked, confused. ‘What’s wrong with me?’

‘Nothing, little cousin. Absolutely nothing!’ Andromeda said as she sat down next to him at the kitchen table, but she didn’t continue with what she had wanted to say, indicating there most certainly was something wrong with him... but what?

The silence that followed was deafening, and he quickly felt very unwanted – and very uncomfortable.

‘I should get back to the festivities,’ he said, standing up.

When nobody argued with him, or tried to get him to stay, he stormed off, slamming the kitchen door behind him. But instead of running upstairs, he lingered, pressing his ear against the keyhole, trying to hear what was said inside. And he heard Uncle Alphard speak.

‘Sirius, Andromeda,’ he said, with a voice of authority, ‘there is true greatness and there is feigned superiority. The latter comes from an obsession to be seen as better; the first comes from within. It is not defined by lineage, or blood, but by the choices one makes in life. You must nurture all your virtues if that’s what you want to achieve. As for him, most importantly: guide him wisely.’

He pulled away when the room on the other side fell silent. It was odd, what he’d heard. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.

And who was the “him” to be guided wisely? Was he the “him”? It gnawed on his mind as he slowly moved upstairs again, because if he was the “him”, then why would they have to guide him? Guide him in what? And why was Uncle Alphard telling them all that, about lineage and choices?

He was so lost in his thoughts, he nearly bumped into Bellatrix. He started apologising but she just smiled.

‘Don’t worry, my darling cousin!’ she drawled. ‘After all, it’s your day. It’s up to you how to spend it. And you should have some fun, you know. It won’t be long before they’ll come after you about responsibilities and obligations – ones that’ll get in the way of having some proper fun. Oh, it’s been so long since I had a party ...’

He frowned. Just last month she’d celebrated her seventeenth birthday, and a whole lot of people had been invited then – more than now, even. People he didn’t know, people who weren’t family, who—

Was that what she meant? That family wouldn’t be invited now he was older? But that made no sense. He’d been to her party as well, and he was family. The whole family had been there. Besides, it didn’t hold with what they’d always taught him about the importance of family and family relations ... And why should he want to just have fun? Being older came with responsibilities (such as him choosing his own robes today!), and taking part in those responsibilities would make his family more proud of him than any fun ever could.

So that’s what he told her.

Bellatrix smiled and patted his head. ‘Yes, yes – very good.’

He never could understand her.

If he were to compare his cousins to the heads of a Runespoor (which he sometimes did, because he liked magical creatures, and Runespoors were much more sensible than his cousins), he figured she’d fit nicely as the middle head. Andromeda would be on the right and Narcissa on the left.

He was more of a Planner as well, which he supposed was why he got along best with Narcissa.

He was about to walk off – perhaps go back to the dining room? It was his party, after all, even if it mostly consisted of gossiping adults – when Narcissa burst out of the double doors, running towards the both of them (though it somehow didn’t rustle her hair, which was combed back neatly beneath her hat – was that another charm she’d learnt at Hogwarts?).

‘Reg! Bella!’ she yelled as she reached them. ‘Regulus, please, can I have a word with you?’

‘We were talking, Cissy. Some other time, perhaps,’ said Bellatrix sternly, but Narcissa didn’t let that be the end of it.

‘It’s important,’ she pressed.

‘If it’s really that important, and it really can’t wait, then you can have a word with him right here,’ Bellatrix said, gesturing around her.

Narcissa rolled her eyes. ‘Fine! Have it your way, then. As always.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Oh, nothing.’

The two girls glared at each other for a short while, before Narcissa gave up.

‘Reg – I really do need a word. Because, well, I don’t know, but I think you should just, you know, embrace everything.’

Regulus stared. She wasn’t making any sense.

‘Family is important,’ she said, as if it was some big revelation.

‘I know that.’

‘I just mean ... You’ve been having doubts, haven’t you?’

‘Doubts?’

‘Well ... I overheard Uncle Alphard and Aunt Lucretia, they were talking about you and about how you’d talked to Sirius about— about running away?’

‘That’s not true,’ he said, defiantly. ‘He’s the one who talked about running away. He’s the one who was dangling out of a window all night.’

The two girls looked at one another.

‘Sirius hung out of a window last night?’ Bellatrix asked.

‘Father found him...’

‘What did he tell you? You say he talked?’ she pressed, closing in the gap between them, practically shoving Narcissa aside.

‘He did – yesterday – he talked about … about… us going our own way, together, to run away…’

He backed away from his cousin, trying to escape her, but it was to no avail. She’d grabbed both his shoulders and looked at him with such a fierce intensity it had him shudder. Yesterday had been difficult enough, in that playroom, having to watch Sirius barricade the door, having to listen to him spew nonsense … (Running away? Rather be a Muggle? ... Then again, Sirius had always been a funny one. Perhaps it had all been an elaborate practical joke?) But now, facing Bellatrix… it was a different kind of difficult

She let go of his shoulders rather suddenly, pushing him back a little. She began to pace and he could see her anger in the way she walked, the way her feet came down on the floor, the force of it all … She was positively fuming, and, as far as he could tell, her anger had not yet reached its peak; it was still building, building, bubbling up to the surface where it threatened to spill over.

She had these fits every once in a while, whenever something truly bad happened. Not quite as frequently as Mother, but far more destructive, and Regulus was familiar enough with the outburst that was bound to follow to know he had to make a run for it.