Illusory § Order of the Phoenix

XII. OF BONDS AND BURDENS

Like the vision he saw when he accidentally touched Arthur Weasley.

Antares could tell by the feeling it left him with, the absolute sense of certainty, the impending certitude. Every fibre of his being screamed with finality.

An undesirable sixth sense.

Yet, there was nothing that could be done about it. Antares had vowed into secrecy, bound by an oath to the Circle— to his mother and every seer born to the Nine before him. The one thing that kept their bloodline alive for centuries past.

War was a dangerous time for a seer.

Antares stopped in front of the entrance to Grimmauld Place, taking a final breath before he left. He flexed his wrist, checking needlessly for his wand when someone cleared their throat behind him.

"You didn't say you were leaving," Sirius rasped.

"Duty calls," Antares shrugged. "There are still things that need preparation."

Sirius stepped closer, a wavering frown on his face. "Antares, about what I said..." he trailed.

Antares shook his head, cutting him off. "You don't need to say anything, and really, I don't have the time," he said, reaching for the doorknob.

"I'm sorry!" Sirius blurt out.

Antares paused, his hand still on the doorknob, and turned to look at Sirius. He saw the genuine remorse in his uncle's eyes, and for a moment, he considered staying to hear him out.

"You don't need to apologize, Sirius," Antares said calmly. "Your feelings are your own."

"I do," his uncle argued. "I was caught up in my own fears. I was so scared, Antares, so terrified of losing Harry like I did James. I'm ashamed of it, really, because I know it was my fault. So, when you called me out on my selfishness, it hit me hard. I didn't want history to repeat itself."

Antares stayed silent. His eyes dropped to the floor, unsure of what to say.

Sirius continued on, his voice cracking with emotion. "I didn't realize that it already was. When you yelled at me that day, it was like seeing Regulus again," he confessed. "I see so much of him in you. The way you refuse to back down, the look in your eyes, even the way you stand here now. As we got older, we argued about everything, our beliefs, about right and wrong. We argued like you and I had, and then he was gone. I don't want to push you away, Ares. I don't want our arguments to drive us apart. You're my family, my blood."

The room was starting to spin— Antares was sure of it. It felt like he couldn't breathe. Antares tried to steady himself, gripping the doorknob tightly to anchor himself to the present. He had never expected such vulnerability from Sirius, and the weight of his uncle's words pressed heavily in his mind.

"I'm not him," Antares finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't be him."

"I know," Sirius replied as he stepped forward, his voice softening. "I don't need you to be. I need you to know I'm sorry."

As Sirius spoke, Antares could feel the raw pain and regret that festered inside his uncle's heart. It was a side of Sirius he hadn't seen often, if ever. For a moment, Antares felt something flicker in his chest, a small and bridging tether. He understood all too well what it was like to be afraid of losing someone, maybe too well.

It was a maelstrom, reeling and all-consuming, pulling at Antares in hopes of drowning him in the depths of his own inadequacy. Growing up, he came to understand vulnerability was akin to weakness. Pureblood society would pick and tear at every gaping wound and the slightest of rifts. The Circle had helped him disguise his near-omniscient burden with decorum. But these past few months, he could feel it eroding the façade he so carefully crafted. In his mind's eye, he saw flashes of those who would slip away. It was suffocating.