GYMNOPÉDIE

Chapter 04

        London's ground was blanketed in white, a peculiar sight, it had never snowed in the past 10 years since Regulus was born. That odd Solstice, it snowed, the crackling firewoods and the Christmas tree twinkling ornaments weren't able to dam the perforating cold in the estate. Snow was the sign, the beginning, and the change, it roamed around the estate to pierce being with accusation. It was the sign that times gave, that heart began to frost, darkness began to loom once again in Grimmauld Place.

"How dare you got sorted to ghastly Gryffindor?!" a woman with her raven hair just swung her right hand across a boy's face with all she got. The boy in front of her didn't dare to look back at the woman.

     A pair of silver eyes, polished with fear and worry peeked from between the stairs handle. Lips sealed, his palms curled into a fist, reddening from fright to witness his savior was under scrutinizing gaze for his mistake. His breath heaving, a pale finger was pulling at his sage robe. The boy twisted his jaw to face his side, his house-elf, Kreacher, scrunched his nose with pleas. "Master Regulus, Kreacher beg of you." pleaded the house-elf to the boy, "Mistress asked master to leave."

     "Not now, Kreacher." Regulus's timbre came in a hush, shaking his head stubbornly. Darting his eyes back to find the same view. His hero figure had his trunk laid by his side, crafted S.B on the side. A red and gold scarf wrapped around his neck for comfort, on his hand, was a bag transparent ziplock full of ruby red wrappers—candies—Regulus's favorite candy; pomegranate drops.

      All Regulus knew was Sirius made a mistake, and when he was supposed to beg for mercy the elder heir laughed. Walburga's palm swung to the twelve-year-old boy, again, feeling her hand coal-hot and reddening. Marks of her bare hand left on her eldest son's face. No, she would only call him a son, if he wasn't a disappointment to the house of Black.

     Sirius shot up, laughed harder with his steel-grey eyes pierced between his tussled raven hair, "Do it again if you wish, Mother." he challenged, cackling with glassy eyes.

    "You should be an example for your brother, for your family. You are the heir of our house, Sirius." Walburga snapped, placing her hand on her waist, "Now you're hanging out with Potter, half-blood and filthy mudbloods. You sink so low."

     In a swift motion, Walburga took out her wand from her dress's pocket. She raised her wand to the raucous boy, Regulus gripped the stair handle tighter. The house-elf behind him quivered, scarlet flashes came out of her wand polluting the innocent eyes. His lips parted to scream, feet wobbling as he shifted from where he stood—to stop, to be the hero for once for his savior. A pair of hands grabbed him and in a snap of a finger took him back to his room. His grey eyes shot open as he heard Sirius laughed and yelled from downstairs.

     Regulus's heart squeezed at the yell, the house-elf stood in front of him, "Master Regulus, Kreacher is sorry." he bowed so low at him, that his wrinkled nose touched the floor. "Master should stay."

Ignoring the house-elf, Regulus paced forward to the door in his attempt to stop the bloody madness in his house. But he was just ten, Kreacher snapped his fingers and the sound of lock on the door was heard. Sirius's yell resonated between emerald and platinum wallpapers wall. He curled his fingers into tight fists, hammering on his door, "Kreacher, I order you to open the door!"

But the house-elf had left the room, Regulus kicked his door with his effort while he had to hear hot-headed fight between his mother and Sirius. Regulus's lips turned upward, narrowing his eyes as his fists were slammed to the door.