The Marauders: Year Two | #Wattys2016

Number 12

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.