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Number 12


Sirius would have prefered if the Express took all of eternity to arrive back to King’s Cross station. He kept his spirits up on the train, pushing out the thought of arriving, joking with the lads, until at last the wheels ground to a halt and the whistle blew and the hiss of the steam letting loose from the engine echoed all around him. He watched with apprehension as the other three got their things down from the racks overhead, just fine with being the very last one to do so.

Remus ducked low to peer out the window. “I see my dad,” he said. There was a sort of hollow tone to his voice. It was, after all, the first time Remus had been home since last summer - when his mother had been killed. With all the drama and changes that had gone on at Hogwarts that term, it had been very easy to forget that beneath all the stuff that Remus already had to contend with, he was still dealing with the loss of his mother. He sighed. “I better go…” He started for the door. Loads of students were passing by the compartment and he was forced to pause in the frame of the door to wait his turn. He looked back at them. “Whatever it is you’re doing this summer that you won’t tell me about? Just please be careful, alright?”

“Like Sirius said, mate, just don’t squash any bugs for a piece,” James grinned.

“Except spiders ‘cos they ruddy deserve it,” squeaked Peter.

Remus looked helplessly at them in confusion but before he could reply, the sea of students had swept him up like a rip tide and he was gone.

Sirius turned to Peter, “And what if you turn into a spider?”

Peter shuddered, “Don’t even suggest it!” he whined, “They’re horrid!”

James smirked. “See you, Peter,” he said. “Don’t forget the plan.”

“I won’t forget the plan,” Peter said. But James worried because Peter had already been told three times to remember his scarf and yet Sirius still had to duck out after him, waving it about to remind him about it.

Sirius sighed very heavily, watching Peter melt into the crowd.

James looked at Sirius. “You alright?”

Sirius shrugged.

James studied him for a long moment, “You can come home with me, mum and dad won’t mind. I think dad rather fancied having a second boy in the house.”

Sirius shook his head, “I really want to, but I’ve got to think about Regulus.”

James nodded, “Alright, I understand that. But if you change your mind - there’s always extra pyjamas at my place, alright?”

“Thanks mate,” Sirius said and he pulled James into a bone-crushing hug for a moment before quickly letting go and jumping back. “Blimey, look at us, carrying on like we aren’t going to see each other in just a couple weeks.”

James smiled. “Yeah. Well, you are, anyway, I’m just standing here playing the victim.” Sirius punched his arm and as the last of the students passed by the compartment, James rushed out to follow them up, carrying Bubo’s cage, followed by Sirius.

Out on the platform, James said bye to Sirius and he rushed across the concrete to where Dora stood, alone, flanked by the auror Moody. Sirius watched as James was greeted by them and whisked away - turning back to wave once more to his mate before disappearing. Sirius watched Remus and his dad leave, too, and Peter with his mother. He watched as one by one the students of Hogwarts disappeared through the brick wall into King’s Cross Station, Platform 9¾ emptying quickly, until it was just him, Sirius, and the last wisps steam of the engine.

Sirius had resolved himself to finding an alternate means home to Grimmauld Place when he heard a croaky voice beside him. “Master Orion has sent Kreacher to fetch the blood traitor boy,” said the nefarious little house elf. He squinted up at Sirius through his old lamp-like eyes, clearly not adjusted to the brightness of sunlight in comparison to the darkness of Number 12. “You must come with Kreacher.” He held out his wrinkled little fist for Sirius to hold onto and with a crack they both disappeared from the platform.

Kreacher’s abilities to disapparate were exceptional. He landed them squarely on the top stoop of the old house, where no muggles could see them from the street, and pushed open the front door to allow them both entry into the musty, dire house before practically sprinting up the stairwell, croakily alerting Regulus that he’d come back as quickly as he could.

Sirius stood in the doorway, unsure what to do next.

Suddenly the door was slammed shut by magic and he turned to find the wand that had produced it was his mother, standing on the bottom step of the stair well. “It’s not polite to linger in doors,” she said coldly, then she turned and walked into the kitchen without so much as a single greeting.

Sirius hurriedly moved forward and up the stairs, toward the bedroom that had always been his at the top of the stairs. They’d sent Kreacher, he told himself - that was a clear sign that he was welcome here. Also, she hadn’t blasted him back out or put him into an immediate cruciatus curse.

So why did he feel as though he were a trespasser?

He paused on the stair outside of Regulus’s room. The door was half open and inside he could see Kreacher simpering to set up a round of gobstones while Regulus sat on the stool beside the squat little table and poured over a magazine spread across his lap. Sirius was caught off guard by how much taller and older Regulus looked - he hadn’t truly looked at him in some time. The little table, something that had once been his and was handed down to Regulus when he had outgrown it, was almost too squat for him to sit on and his knees were higher than the tabletop surface as he sat on the stool. His hair was long, like Sirius’s was, except it was darker and better cared for, refined rather than shaggy. Sirius couldn’t help but stare in surprise for a moment, wondering when it was that he had so lost track of Regulus that these sorts of changes could have occurred.

Regulus looked up. The expression on his face remained as passive as it had been when he was looking at the magazine, as though seeing Sirius there was as normal as could be. There was no excited reaction - but at least no negative one, either. Just no reaction at all. Sirius wasn’t sure which he would’ve preferred.

“Hey Reg,” he said.

Regulus stared, blinking at him for a moment, then turned back to his magazine without a single word.

“Master Regulus, the board is set,” croaked Kreature, “It is ready for you to win again!” The little house elf seemed so pleased to deliver this news to Regulus, he practically trembled as he said it, wringing his little hands as he looked adoringly up at his master.

“Thank you, Kreacher,” Regulus said and Sirius marvelled once more over how much of the childlike pitch had left Regulus’s voice.

As Regulus leaned forward to start playing the game, Sirius turned and continued up the stairs to his own room. Regulus, he realized, was very nearly the same age now as he, Sirius, had been when he’d first gone to Hogwarts. He would be receiving his Hogwarts letter this month, on his eleventh birthday. It was odd, thinking of Regulus as anything but the tiny younger brother he’d always been, the one Sirius used to boss around and play Wizard And Muggle with, pretending to rule over him with the elder wand from their favorite Beedle tale.

Sirius’s room was exactly as it had been when he’d last been there - messy from his frantic packing when he’d left during the holidays. There were few signs that anybody had been in the room. One was that the stack of letters from his friends over Christmas and the previous Summer lay spilled across his desk, where he’d had them neatly tucked into a drawer. Another was his Gryffindor banners had been taken down and now lay, crumpled on the floor. He dropped his bag on top of his trunk, which Kreacher had magicked to the room, and neatened the pile of letters first. They were the most precious thing he owned. He took a string from his drawer and carefully tied the letters all together in a neat little bundle to protect them being rifled through again, and put them in his bag. He’d bring them with him when he returned to Hogwarts, he decided. There was no need for mother to be rifling through them.

Next, he turned to the banners. Taking out his wand, he decided that the underage wizarding laws were not a worry to him. Everyone knew the ministry didn’t know if you were performing magic outside of school if you lived in a house where other magical people lived. They had no way to trace something like that. And even if they could, they couldn’t so long as he was at Number 12, it was unplottable, so the ministry had no way to trace it or to come and get him even if they did. So he used his wand to apply a permanent sticking charm - something Flitwick had taught them that term - and adhere the posters to the walls once more, covering the horrible dark green wallpaper with the crimson and gold of Gryffindor.

“That’s better,” he murmured.

He climbed onto his bed and looked around as he lounged there, wishing he was back at Hogwarts already. He sighed and wondered how long he should wait before he could talk to James. He missed his mate sorely. He glanced at the broken bit of mirror on the nightstand and picked it up. Through it, he could see James’s bedroom, the trunk and owl cage in the corner. Bubo was already gone out the window, which was open, the curtains fluttering lightly in the breeze coming through. James was nowhere to be seen, however. He sighed and put the mirror back down on the nightstand.

Sirius wished he had a photograph of his friends he could at least say hello to. He would insist that they take one together next term, he told himself. He sighed and closed his eyes for now, deciding to take a nap and deal with the horrors of Grimmauld Place a little later.




Sirius woke up much later than he’d intended to. Outside his window, it was dark and the moon was shining over the square below. Sirius felt his stomach rumble as he sat up and he realized he hadn’t eaten a bite all day since breakfast in the Great Hall, except for the Bertie Bott’s and licorice wands they’d all had on the train, and now he’d missed dinner. He wondered if it was late enough he could perhaps sneak down to the kitchen and find something to hold him over until morning. Another rumble from his stomach and he knew he would have to try.

He crept out of his room and onto the dark stairs. He held his wand aloft, “Lumos,” he whispered. The pale glow of his wand tip was such a contrast to the darkness of the stairwell that the whole house seemed to be illuminated by it. There were no signs of his parents being still up, so he started down the crickety old stairs, wincing at each creak or crack of the wood beneath his feet. Once, he’d been excellent at sneaking down these steps, but all the tricks of silent passage had been overwritten by new information about the stairs at Hogwarts. He was just past Regulus’s bedroom door when it opened and Kreacher’s head popped out, alarmingly similar to the heads of the former house elves, mounted to their plaques on the walls high above. Sirius shivered at the illusion.

“Master Sirius is on the stairs,” Kreacher croaked, “Master Regulus is trying to sleep and Master Sirius has woken Master Regulus up with all this noise on the stairs. If Master Sirius wakes up my Mistress, he will be punished, like he should be for being out of bed at this hour!”

Sirius looked down into the darkness at the door of Walburga and Orion’s bedroom below. Kreacher was right of course, if he continued on past their door and they heard him, it would be awful. He was so hungry, though. He looked at Kreacher, “Get me something to eat,” he said in his sternest voice.

Kreacher stared at Sirius for a long moment.

“That’s an order, elf.”

Kreacher took a deep breath, “Yes, Master Sirius,” he said, though he didn’t sound thrilled about it, and he disappeared with a crack.

Sirius sat on the step and waited for the elf to return. As he waited, a light turned on in Regulus’s room and a moment later his brother came out onto the landing. “What are you doing up? Where’s Kreature?” Regulus demanded.

“Kreacher’s fetching me some food,” Sirius said.

Regulus scowled. “I didn’t tell him he could leave.”

“Well, I told him he had to get me food and he has to obey both our orders the same, seeing as we’re both of the noble house of Black,” Sirius replied edgily.

Regulus continued to scowl, “You are, but only barely.”

“Wow, mother has taught you well, hasn’t she?” Sirius asked with a chortle. “She’s really brainwashed you right up.”

“I’m not brainwashed,” snapped Regulus. “I happen to be quite bright.”

Sirius shrugged, “I’m sure you are, Reg.”

Regulus looked unsure whether this was a compliment or a dig against him. He studied Sirius with squinted eyes for a long moment.

There was a crack and Kreacher had returned with a plate bearing a sandwich and a small cluster of chips. The sandwich was sloppily put together with hardly anything on it and no mustard or anything to moisten it. Sirius took the plate and looked at the pathetic offering. He sighed - he hadn’t told the elf to make him something good, only for food. “What about a drink?” he asked.

The elf seemed to seethe and then disappeared once again.

Regulus said, “Are you still friends with the Potter boy?”

“Yes,” answered Sirius. He picked up one of the soggy chips - cold - and stuck it in his mouth. “Why?” he asked around his food.

Regulus shrugged. “Are you visiting him at all this summer?”

Sirius eyed his brother suspiciously, “Perhaps. Why?”

“No reason,” Regulus answered.

Sirius chewed silently, staring at his brother, wondering why Regulus would care to know that. Kreacher popped back between them moments later, and held out a cup containing pumpkin juice. “Kreacher has gotten everything that Master Sirius has asked him to,” he said.

Regulus nodded, “Good job, Kreacher. Come, let’s go back to bed.”

“Yes, Master Regulus,” simpered Kreacher, looking adoringly up at Regulus.

Regulus turned and went back into his bedroom, closing the door. A moment later, the lamp went out and it was just Sirius in the hallway with his illuminated wand, cup, and a plate of soggy food.

Still wondering exactly what Regulus would care about Sirius’s relationship with James for, he carried the food and drink back up to his room. He took up the mirror and peered through to find that Bubo had returned and now sat nested in his cage. James’s glasses were just in front of the mirror and beyond, Sirius could just see the form of his sleeping friend in his bed, the window now closed and the curtains still. He felt better, knowing James was there, and he propped the mirror up on his nightstand, aiming it so that he had the same view of James’s sleeping form as he usually would have at the dorms in Hogwarts, and he felt safer already. He quickly ate what he could stomach of the sandwich and the soggy chips - but they weren’t appetizing at all and he only managed a few bites of it. At least it was enough to stop the rumbling of his stomach.

When he’d finished, he lay back down, staring over at the little mirror, wishing that he’d gone to the Potters after all.