The Nightshades

"You’ve got to be taught before it’s too late

Before you are six, or seven, or eight

To hate all the people your relatives hate

You’ve got to be carefully taught!"

- ‘South Pacific’

One of the first things every child learns in life is how to say their name--Joseph, Jane, John, Elizabeth, or Regulus, like me. At first, I thought I was no different, but it wasn’t long before I learned I had been taught that in an atypical way.

There is an art, Mother says, to being a Black, and as a member of the Black family, I can tell you there is also an art to saying your name. When asked by, well, anyone--even Mudbloods, Mother says--what I am called, I will hold my head up high and say clearly: "Regulus Black."

Emphasis on the Black, of course.

In one of the letters I received last May from Sirius on the subject, he said--and I quote--"bullshit."

But Sirius is often ignorant in these things.

***

ONE

Coming Home

King’s Cross Station, June 30, 1972

"Regulus Aneas Black! Do you not have the courtesy enough to answer even your own mother’s questions!"

I snapped my head up, but quickly learned that it would have been better if I had kept it down. My mother’s face loomed inches from my own, and I tried to resist the urge to back away.

"I- I’m very sorry, Mother. What was it you were saying?"

Mother scowled at me. "You should have been listening," she sniffed. "Therefore, I am not going to tell you what I was saying. And if it was important, at least now you’ve learned your lesson."

"I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.

"I’m sorry, who?"

I quickly corrected myself. A few of the ways people can tell that you’re a Black, Mother says, is correct English, good penmanship, a knowledge of wizarding history, and, of course, respect to your elders--unless you are an elder; then you are expected to teach others to respect you.

"I’m sorry, Mother."

Sighing, as if I was pathetic--and I am, according to Sirius--Mother turned to Father. "Where’s the train?" she snapped. "It’s late."

"Probably the Mudbloods clogging up the underground," responded Father. Just for effect, he sneered at a Muggle passer-by.

It is a rare occasion indeed that Father is here with us. I can count the times I’ve seen him out of his study on one hand--or maybe two. It was with Kreacher, Sirius, and my cousins--and sometimes Mother and Aunt Cleneatha--that I grew up. He pays more attention to Sirius, anyway--I am just the extra, the one who will inherit the Black estates if something goes wrong with my older brother. I don’t mind that; I would have hated having the responsibility of the family name resting on my shoulders.

"You should go have a word with Dumbledore, Aegeon. From what I’ve heard from the letters Narcissa sends Cleneatha, the Mudbloods are just clogging up Hogwarts. And it’s not as if they’re good at studies and whatnot--half are failing their classes! Typical, of course, for their kind, but I’m not sure that I want to send Regulus--"

Hearing my name, I focused all of my attention on their conversation.

"--to Hogwarts if it’s going to be like this. And Sirius has already been corrupted, from what I’ve heard from--"

"Shush, Arachne," said Father, quickly noticing that I wasn’t staring off into space anymore. He nudged his wife in my direction.

"Oh, Regulus! What is it with you today? First, daydreaming, now, eavesdropping!" She turned to Father. "It’s those Muggles, Aegeon! See how they’re corrupting our children! Just being around them turns Regulus into...into this!"

"Arachne," said my father in his warning voice that I had only heard once--when I had accidentally tripped over a rug in the kitchen and had broken every single wine glass in the house--and I didn’t want to hear it again. Mother, of course, was different.

"Do not ‘Arachne’ me, you--"

I didn’t hear the rest, as I now was the one who was shouting. "Mother, Father, look! It’s the students! It’s the Hogwarts students!"

Father frowned at me for creating such a ruckus, as several Muggles had started looking in our direction but had turned away at the sight of my mother. Despite breaking some of the Ministry’s other minor regulations, my father would never let a Muggle know of our world. "Regulus, quiet down," he said sharply.

I dropped my voice down to it’s regular tone, and pleaded, "Father, may I please go look for Sirius?"

"No you may not," said Mother.

"Excuse me, Arachne, but the boy was talking to me. I am his father, you know."

"You haven’t been there his entire life, you’re just in the Ministry all the time. You say you’re 'solving the Mudblood problem,' but I bet that’s not what your doing. I bet you’re just gambling, or passing your time with whores, or even have taken another woman--"

"I HAVE DONE NO SUCH THING!"

Seizing the opportunity, I quickly tiptoed away from my parents, who were now hissing back and forth at each other, and made my way through the students who were gradually filing out of the platform. It was hard to see anything--I had always been a little short, but Mother said that I might have a growth spurt soon. But maybe I won’t, and I’ll be a short hero, like Napoleon Bonaparte, and conquer the world and make even Arachne Black cower before me--

"REGULUS!" called a familiar voice.

There are many words to describe the relationship between Bellatrix Black and myself, but I find it hard to find such words. We don’t hate each other; yet we aren’t best friends either. It mostly is because of the age difference between us, I assumed. I am a more mature nine-year-old; at least that’s what Bella says. I suppose that’s why she doesn’t mind me tagging along with her at parties and such; I suppose I’m the only one of her relatives that she doesn’t absolutely hate, besides Sirius.

She overcame the distance between us quickly--Bella was always a fast one--and bent down so she was my height. Cupping my face in her hands, she whispered, "Hello, cousin. Did you have a good year?"

This was how my cousin always greeted me. She had a special sort of magic to her, one I couldn’t really identify to a stranger, but it was there. She subdued me, even if I was as angry as the devil, just like that; just by meeting her grey eyes with mine.

I solemnly nodded. Bella let go of me and rose, and the spell was broken.

"Bella! Have you seen Sirius? I can’t find him!" I asked frantically.

Almost before I finished my sentence, Bella cut me off. "Why do you want to know?"

Shocked at her open lack of manners--Blacks do not interrupt one another, though interrupting a non-family member is acceptable--I curtly responded, "Because he’s my brother, Bellatrix. I thought you were intelligent."

Bella scowled. "I am intelligent, Regulus. Your brother is over there." She pointed to a huddled group of eleven-year-olds. Almost immediately, I picked out my brother’s head from the throng.

I almost began to run towards Sirius’ laughing figure, but remembered my manners just in time--and it was a good thing I did; you can only get what you want, Mother says, by being either violent or polite. Since I was smaller than most, I always went with the latter. "Thank you, cousin," I said quickly and as gratefully as I could--she had told me where Sirius was--and once again began to walk towards my brother.

Her hand grabbed the back of my robes before I had got two steps. "Regulus," she breathed. "I wouldn’t talk to Sirius just yet, if I were you."

I was astounded at my youngest cousin’s behaviour. I hadn’t seen my beloved brother--my other half--since last September, and Bella tells me to not see him! What is the world coming to?!

"Why not?" I pouted, once I realised that Bella wasn’t going to let go of my robes.

"Because, Regulus, you haven’t seen him in a year. He’s changed. He’s not the same Sirius that left 12 Grimmauld Place last September."

I responded to her stubbornly,: "He’ll still want to see me. He always wants to be with me. I’m his brother. And... and he doesn't like you, anyway! He told me so, last summer!"

"Fine." Bellatrix let go of my robes. I only realised how hard I was resisting her grip on me when I fell to the ground. A group of nearby seventh years laughed; I sneered at them. "Go talk to Sirius. Just don’t come crying to me afterwards." She stalked off, presumably towards her friends.

She never looked back.

Slowly at first, I got up and dusted myself off. I made my way through the maze of unfamiliar faces, disregarding the old fat woman who bent down and asked me, oh little kiddie are you lost? A minute later, I was standing behind my brother, who was now laughing again. I took a deep breath and:

"Sirius!" I said happily. "Sirius, you’re back!"

I opened up my arms, anticipating a hug, a shout of "Regulus, at last!", a gleeful reunion between brothers. What I got was not what I anticipated.

Nothing.

Well, I suppose you couldn’t call it nothing. Sirius turned around, gave me an exasperated look, and continued his conversation with the messy-haired boy beside him that I immediately recognised as one of the Potters. My mind quickly registered his appearance.

"You’ve got to watch out for those Potters," my mother had warned me countless times. "You’ll never know if they’re acceptable or not. Don’t be stupid; don’t assume from the moment you know that they’re purebloods that they are good purebloods. There is a difference, Regulus, between purebloods and purebloods. One knows their lineage; the other might as well be scum."

"... and--oh, you’ll love this, James--McGonagall told dearest Sevviekins that even though the holidays hadn’t technically begun yet, the use of magic is unacceptable, and would he please get off Miss Evans, I don’t think she’s very comfortable with you on top of her!"

The messy-haired boy--James Potter, I assumed--almost fell over laughing. His eyes filled up with hysterical tears, and just the sight of him gave even myself a giggle. A fat boy, situated between Potter and another eleven-year-old, began to laugh too, though I was under the impression that he was only laughing because Potter was. The other one--sickly- and kind-looking, hid a smile.

I tried again. Maybe my brother had wanted to finish his joke first before he greeted me. Yes, yes, that was it. Him registering my sudden appearance would have ruined his joke. Of course, why hadn’t I thought of that before?

I opened up my arms, anticipating a hug again, and shrieked, "SIRIUS!"

...and all I got was more laughter.

I let my arms drop down to my sides; I was beginning to look stupid like that. Tears welled up in my eyes, though I did not let them fall. The most important rule of being a Black is to never let them see your weakness. And I couldn’t.

The sickly-looking boy noticed me--I think every single person in the vicinity noticed me and my antics--and tapped my brother on the shoulder. "Sirius," he said. "Sirius, someone’s behind you. I think he wants to talk to you." He gave me a small smile.

Sirius couldn’t ignore me any longer now. I was openly pointed out to him.

"Oh, him? Never mind him, Remus."

My heart sank. I’d never got this close to crying before, not since I was two and Mother yelled at me for accidentally wetting my trousers. I pretended to sneeze, pretended that that was the reason for my watery eyes--a cold, of course.

Remus, the boy who at least had a smidgen of manners, looked appalled at Sirius’ words. He did not, however, say anything, which lowered my opinion of him a bit. He just continued to look at Sirius in a way that reminded me of Mother, but in a much lesser form. Sirius Canis Black, what do you think you’re doing?! it said.

"Who is he?" snickered Potter, who still was trying to overcome his laughter. "Is he our dear Sevvie’s little brother? Or one of your insane relatives?"

Sirius scowled. "I wish he was dear Snivelly’s brother. But alas, he is mine. Just go away, Regulus, I don’t want to talk to you or anyone else in your stupid family."

I couldn’t contain myself. How dare he act like that to me! How dare he hang out with such scum as a Potter! And how dare he forget he was a Black!

"Our family," I seethed, trying to remain calm. "Is--not--stupid. Our family just happens to be the most prestigious family to ever set foot on Britain--ever set foot on the world! We’re rich, we’re powerful, we’re beautiful, we’re influential--we’re everything anyone ever wanted to be. We are, especially, not stupid! Blacks are intelligent, they are! Didn’t you pay attention to Kreacher’s stories? Great-great-great Uncle Rigel was the first man to--"

"See, I told you. Insane. Stuck in their pureblood mania."

Potter nodded. "Now I understand what you’re up against. I didn’t believe they could be this horrible before."

And they talked like this in front of me, his own brother! "Excuse me?!"

Again, Sirius, Potter, and the fat boy ignored me. Remus gave me an oh-don’t-pay-attention-to-them-they-don’t-know-what-they’re-doing look, which I instantly didn’t pay attention to.

"So, anyway, as I was saying," continued my brother, with a disdainful glance towards me. "Since McGonagall couldn’t give Snape a detention, since it’s the holidays, she gave him a boatload of extra Transfiguration homework. And you all know that that’s his worst subject.... Oh, if looks could kill than McGonagall would surely be dead now..."

The boys guffawed again--though Remus’ laugh did seem a bit forced--and Potter announced that his mother was probably looking for him, it was time to go home. The overweight boy suddenly decided to go home too; they all said their goodbyes, exchanging addresses for owls and promises to meet up in Diagon Alley to buy their school supplies for the next year. I watched all of this wide-eyed, almost not believing it. This wasn’t my brother. This was someone else. Or it was Sirius, just masquerading himself as an actual Gryffindor--yes, he had been sorted into that house, but how does a hat in a Mudblood-accepting school determine who you are, who you will be?

"Sirius, you really don’t have to wait..." Remus was protesting. I must find out his last name; he seemed decent enough, but I hadn’t seen him at any of the various balls purebloods hold. A halfblood, I deemed him; he seemed worthy, but not so much that I could tell from a distance--by the way he dressed, talked, held himself--that he was a pureblood.

Halfbloods--Mother says that some are acceptable, though she’d rather we make friends with those of our sort. Some halfbloods, though, are as worthy as Mudbloods, and we are disgraced that they should be related to our blood, even if the relation is so distant that only generations and generations showed it.

"--I do," my brother was saying. He was using those eyes again--the eyes that could sometimes even soften Mother, and believe me, that is an accomplishment.

Remus protested. Obviously he hadn’t learned anything about getting Sirius to do something over the course of a school year with him.

"No, you don’t. You haven’t seen your brother--this is your brother, right?--all year, and you’ve been stuck with me for that time and the hours in the compartment. And I thought you didn’t like me because I wouldn’t play Exploding Snap with you--"

Sirius sneered at me. For a second there, he resembled Severus Snape. I shivered. "I’d much rather spend time with you, Remus, than my brother."

"Then if you absolutely must wait with me until my parents come--" Mother wouldn’t like that at all, she hates being late "--then we’ll all wait together. And if we’re to spend time with each other, we might as well be introduced."

Remus bent down, so as to look eye to eye with me. He held out a thin hand. "Hello. I’m Remus Lupin. I’m eleven years old. You’re Regulus Black, aren’t you? Your brother has told me lots about you."

I stared at this boy--Remus Lupin, I’ll remember that name--in wonder. Never had anyone, with the exception of, of course, Mother, stood up to Sirius like that. I sneaked a look at my brother, and--I couldn’t believe it--he was obeying this Lupin boy!

I wouldn’t care if this Lupin turned out to be a Mudblood. I would have worshipped him anyway.

I regained my composure--I was staring at Lupin, and he was starting to grin at me--and said clearly, "I am Regulus Black, age nine." Remembering the last line of Lupin’s words to me, I added: "According to the reunion I’ve had with my brother today, I doubt whatever he’s told you of me is good."

At this, Lupin glared at Sirius, as if to say, Now you’ve done it, even your nine-year-old brother hates you. They locked gazes, and glared at each other. Sirius was the first one to break.

"Fine," he grumbled. My brother briskly walked towards me and, sighing, wrapped his arms around me. It was unexpected, this kindness; this was what I was hoping for when I had first approached my brother, which I had obviously not had received.

"I’m sorry about before, Reggie," he whispered in my ear. I didn’t even bother to wince when that dratted nickname left his mouth. There was something wrong with Sirius.

I stood there, stiff, while Sirius began to whisper: "I love you, Regulus; you’re my brother. Did you honestly think I’d leave you like that? I didn’t know you’d take it so seriously... please forgive me, Reggie, I’m sorry..." He withdrew his hug and looked me in the eye

Slowly, I said, "I’m sorry too. I’m sorry that you ever had to leave us."

Sirius smiled at me, and then gave a rather-toothy grin to his friend. He opened his mouth, as if to say something to Lupin, but--

"REGULUS!"

For the second time that day, I turned around to greet my youngest cousin. "Hello Bell--"

After stomping up to me, Bella grabbed my arm. "Honestly, Regulus. I would have thought better of you than to socialise with them. I knew you wouldn’t listen to me when I told you to stay away from your brother and his friends."

Don’t judge a book by its cover, Bella.

Despite Lupin’s appearance, he seemed very nice, and I was sure Bella and him could get along--both could control Sirius if they had their heart set on it. But just to be safe, I whispered the questioned that I dreaded into her ear.

"Lupin--the ill-looking boy--he’s not a Mudblood, is he?"

She snorted and gave me a look that said: Merlin, how can I even be related to someone as ignorant as you?! I hate it when she does that.

"Of course not, Regulus. I wasn’t talking about the Lupin boy--though I don’t think that Aunt Arachne would approve of you being so scared of his being a Mudblood. I was talking about"-- she lifted a finger and pointed at my brother--"Him."

I was confused. Yes, Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor, but what impact did a silly little hat’s opinion have on one’s life? Yes, Mother thought it important, and yes, so did the rest of the family, but it was just a hat.

"Sirius?" I asked. Bella rolled her eyes.

"No, I was talking about Uncle Alphard. Yes, Sirius, you pathetic excuse for a Black!"

I cringed. Bella was almost red in the face now.

"Come on, Regulus. Your brother can find his way back to the house by himself"--she was now addressing Sirius--"though I wouldn’t come home if I were you, not with what Aunt Arachne’s reaction to your first year is going to be."

"Fine then!" Sirius said his first words to Bella, almost shouting them. "I didn’t want to stay with you pureblood maniacs anyway! I-I’ll just stay with Remus--"

"No, you will not! You’re coming with me! Gather your school things, we’re leaving!"

Inwardly, I sighed. Bellatrix was always such a hypocrite.

Sirius obeyed solemnly--he could tell there was no way of getting around my youngest cousin when she was acting like this. He wouldn’t have really gone to stay with Lupin over the summer, I could tell it from the way he spoke; and from the look of Lupin’s robes his family couldn’t afford yet another child.

As Bella dragged both of us towards our kin , Sirius and I turned to look at Lupin. He stood there, waving, with a look on his face that looked like he thought we were never going to see him ever again.