Chapter 282: Chapter 282: If the Little Brother Says It’s Fine, Then It’s Fine

Sirius had gone home the previous holiday. One letter from their father had been enough to pull him back, the reason being the face of the House of Black.

The eldest son absent for consecutive long holidays would invite speculation about internal problems. Orion wouldn’t tolerate it.

Sirius had complied on the surface. He sat at the dining table, picked up the right cutlery, and didn’t say a word that wasn’t required.

His mother’s remarks bounced off him. His father’s authority kept his head down. The portraits on the walls pointed and muttered, and he didn’t spare them a glance.

He’d wrapped himself in a shell, wielding indifference like a weapon.

It was the most heroic form of defiance a boy his age could conceive of.

Children did this. Built themselves a shell, then believed the shell was their weapon, never realizing it was a prison they’d built for themselves.

Now he wanted to go back, and that created a delicate problem: the shell couldn’t come with him.

After working so hard at not caring, after proving so forcefully that he didn’t need that house, saying he wanted to go home felt like an admission. He couldn’t get past the embarrassment of saying it out loud.

Regulus could picture the war Sirius had been waging with himself these past weeks.

I already promised myself I’d never go back. So why am I going back?

What was all that resolve worth?

Is this surrender?

What will they think of me? That I couldn’t make it on my own?

But none of that was Regulus’s concern. Sirius wanted to go home. That was a good thing. So go.

He nodded, voice even. "Good. Go, then."

A tilt of his head, and he added, "Father will be glad you’re coming back."

Sirius bared his teeth, mouth already open, ready to say who needs him to be glad, but the words died before they reached the air.

He glanced sideways at Regulus.

Regulus’s face carried nothing. Not coldness, not detachment, just calm.

Something in Sirius’s coiled tension loosened, just a fraction.

He’d spent the entire walk over here with his thoughts churning.

All that time building himself up, rehearsing, agonizing, and now that he was standing in front of Regulus, it didn’t seem so complicated after all.

Regulus hadn’t asked why he wanted to go back. Hadn’t asked whether he’d come around. Hadn’t asked if he was planning to reconcile with the family.

One sentence. Good. Go, then. As if going home were the most ordinary thing in the world.

Regulus hadn’t treated it as a big deal, and that made it possible for him not to treat it as one either.

If the little brother said it was fine, then it was fine.

Sirius pulled in a lungful of cold air, let it out slowly, and his shoulders dropped an inch.

But once the tension left, his mouth found its footing again. "You’re not going to ask what I’m going home for?"

Regulus turned his head, same tone as before. "Oh. What are you going home for?"

Sirius squinted at him. Something complicated in his eyes, one half saying don’t do that, the other half saying fine, go ahead.

He let out a noise, then didn’t follow it up with anything.

They stood in silence again. Wind rolled off the lake. A loose strand of Sirius’s hair blew across his face. He reached up to push it back, didn’t quite manage, and let his hand drop.

Regulus looked out at the water. His tone shifted slightly, a shade heavier than before, the teasing edge gone.

"Some things might happen over the holiday."

Sirius turned. "What things?"

Regulus shook his head. "When we’re home."

Sirius’s brow creased slowly, wheels turning.

No letter from the family. No word about anything major.

But then again, even if something were happening, they wouldn’t tell him. He was practically a defector at this point.

Plenty of matters weren’t worth discussing with him. He wouldn’t pay attention anyway, and he might even find the family’s troubles amusing.

But he knew that if Regulus was bringing it up unprompted, it wasn’t small.

He nodded and didn’t press.

Regulus continued. "It’s good that you’re going back. But I need you to promise me you’ll stay calm when the time comes."

The furrow in Sirius’s brow deepened.

He stared at Regulus, and his expression changed by degrees.

Confusion first. What would require staying calm?

Then wariness. Whatever warranted Regulus specifically telling him to keep his composure wasn’t ordinary. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

Then his face darkened.

He thought of the Dark Awakening. Regulus being forced to choose, watched by Voldemort’s people, crushed under the weight of the family’s expectations.

If it was that kind of thing again, what could he do by going home?

"What is it?" His voice went low. "Is it..."

Regulus knew where his mind had gone but had no intention of explaining. A couple of days wouldn’t matter.

"When we’re home."

Sirius watched him.

He wanted to push, to ask if it was that kind of thing, to ask whether Regulus was going to be put through it all over again.

But one look at his brother’s expression told him he wouldn’t get an answer.

If Regulus meant to say more, he’d have said it already. Asking wouldn’t change that.

Sirius’s mouth opened several times without producing sound.

He let out a breath. "Fine."

"I promise."

Regulus nodded. That promise was all he’d needed.

Sirius coming home meant attending the Christmas banquet.

This year the Lestranges were hosting. Every Pure-blood family in Voldemort’s inner circle would be there.

Malfoy, Nott, Carrow, Yaxley, Avery, Rosier, Rowle. A parade of names arranged around a single table.

The eldest son of the House of Black had been absent last year. That was a thorn. No one had mentioned it. Everyone remembered.

If he came home this year and still didn’t show, it wouldn’t be a thorn anymore. It would be a crack.

The House of Black supported Voldemort. That was the stance on display.

A stance needed bodies behind it, and the first requirement was a united front.

If the eldest son wasn’t standing at that table, every Head of House in the room would start wondering. What exactly is going on with the Black heir? Are the Blacks still of one mind?

Once that kind of doubt surfaced, the probing would follow. Unless Sirius severed ties with the family entirely, he couldn’t avoid that table.

He’d have to raise his glass. He’d have to let Bellatrix take his arm. He’d have to let those Heads of House size him up.

Only after the full performance would he have filled the vacancy the eldest son had left.

And Regulus had business to conduct at that table.

But Sirius was too impulsive. A Christmas banquet offered a hundred provocations that could set him off, and if he erupted, the entire plan Regulus had laid out would shatter.

He had a part to play with Bellatrix. A confrontation to stage with the Lestranges. A coordination to maintain with their father. Every step was choreographed, and one outburst from Sirius could flip the whole table.

Getting him to promise calm was a prerequisite. With that promise secured, the situation was half-stable.

The other half that wasn’t stable was the very real chance that Sirius would promise and then forget it the moment something happened.

But that was a conversation for later, at home, with their father present. For now, laying the first layer was enough.

Regulus turned to face Sirius directly. "Anything else?"

Sirius’s mouth opened.

A string of questions sat in his chest.

What exactly is going to happen? Does Father know? Is Bellatrix pulling something again? Do you need me to do anything?

He looked at Regulus’s face. Regulus clearly wasn’t going to say more. Asking was pointless.

The words jammed in his throat, unable to rise or fall.

The corner of Regulus’s mouth twitched.

"Then," he said, "I’ll see you at the station."

"... See you at the station."

Regulus turned and walked back.

Sirius stood where he was, watching him go.

Cuthbert and the others had already fallen in around him.

Sirius watched for a while. James was already coming over.

His gaze swept Sirius up and down, the anger still simmering. He was about to clap a hand on Sirius’s shoulder when something in his peripheral vision snagged his attention.

Cuthbert had glanced back at James.

One look. Nothing in it. Perfectly placid. His eyes passed over James’s face the way someone might glance at a piece of decoration on the wall.

Then he turned his head back around, slow, unhurried, taking his time about it.

That single gesture sent the blood rushing to James’s face.

His hand curled into a fist and he lunged forward. Lupin caught his arm, grip tight.

"James." Lupin’s voice was quiet but the tone left no room.

"Did you see..."

"I saw."

"He..."

"I know."

James tried to push forward again.

Lupin put real force into it this time. "And what are you going to do? Hit Avery, and then what?"

James stood rooted, chest heaving.

Sirius walked up to them.

James’s attention snapped to him instantly. He grabbed Sirius’s arm. "What did that little snake say to you?"

Sirius gave a small shake of his head. "Nothing."

"Nothing and you stood there that long?"

"It was nothing."

James stared at him. "Going home. What did he say about it?"

"He didn’t say much."

"So are you going or not?"

Sirius met his eyes, and that careless grin slid back into place, a touch of swagger to it. "Going."

James’s face flushed darker.

"James." Lupin pulled at him again.

"The Blacks..." James’s jaw was clenched.

Sirius cut him off. "Let’s head back."

James glared. Sirius didn’t look, just turned and started walking toward the castle.

The main doors were still a long way off.

Two groups trailed back from the Black Lake, one behind the other, a dozen meters between them.

The castle grew closer ahead, towers emerging from the mist one by one.

Regulus walked and thought.

The Christmas banquet... Bellatrix... The Lestranges... Voldemort...

And the Whomping Willow was still waiting for him in Cornwall.

It was going to be a busy holiday.