Sirius fell silent.
It was as if he had finally found the truth.
"You-Know-Who… he's really coming back?"
Sirius asked, his voice rough.
Sean nodded in silence.
"Ah…"
Sirius let out a low laugh. Sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains and fell across his gaunt eyes. The dark circles under them were so deep he looked half-mad.
"If that's the answer you wanted, then I think it's time we talked about Regulus Black."
Sean said.
"What is it you want to know about him…"
Sirius studied the young wizard with a probing look, running a hand through his wild hair.
"I don't know much. I hated every last one of them."
"Everything."
Sean said after a moment.
"Heh… Then come with me, if you don't mind the trouble."
Sirius vanished in an instant, leaving only a large black dog ahead of them.
He had no way to question the boy's motives. As absurd as it all was, the more he thought about it, the more sense it made.
A wizard like You-Know-Who would always inspire resistance.
For a long time, there had been no real hope at all — that much was certain, even with Dumbledore around.
But now, on their side, there was someone like this…
Whatever the case, Sirius believed him.
He had always been like that. He trusted certain people too easily, and never changed, even to his own ruin.
Number 12 Grimmauld Place.
A battered old door appeared out of nowhere between Numbers 11 and 13. Then grimy walls and dark, eerie windows followed, as though an extra house had swollen into existence and shoved the buildings on either side apart.
Someone knocked — not a wizard, but a black dog.
The dog let out a low bark, then looked back over its shoulder.
Behind it, Sean climbed the cracked stone steps, studying the newly appeared front door as he came.
The black paint was peeling off in strips, marred by scratches running every which way.
The silver door knocker was shaped like a coiled snake. There was no keyhole, no letterbox.
The black dog pressed close, and the door creaked open.
"Come in,"
a voice called from beyond it.
"But remember this — stay with me, and don't touch anything if you can help it."
Sean stepped over the threshold into a hall that was almost pitch-black.
He smelled dampness, dust, and a sweet rotten stench. The place felt like an abandoned house.
He also heard a rustling sound. Then a row of old-fashioned gas lamps lit up along the wall, casting a wavering, unreal glow over the long, gloomy hall, over the peeling wallpaper and threadbare carpet.
Above them, a spiderweb-like chandelier gave off a faint gleam, and several darkened old portraits hung crookedly on the walls.
And beside the chandelier, on a rickety table, even the candelabrum had been made in the shape of snakes.
"This is the old Black family house. Regulus Black — the one you asked about — was my brother.
He was just like my parents, obsessed with pure blood. They believed that being born into the Black family made you noble by nature…
So my idiot brother, soft as he was, believed them. That's him."
Sirius pointed at one name near the bottom of the family tree:
Regulus Black — with a death date written after his birth date.
"He was younger than me,"
Sirius said.
"People were always reminding me that he was the better son.
And then he died.
Stupid idiot… He actually joined the Death Eaters."
"You and your brother… you actually…"
The Pukwudgie butler chose that exact moment to mutter something.
"Pukwudgie, one look at this house should tell you exactly what kind of wizards my family were."
Sirius said mockingly.
"So your parents were also… what did you call them… Death Eaters?"
the Pukwudgie asked.
"No, not exactly. But believe me, they thought Voldemort was right about a lot of things. They supported keeping wizarding blood pure, getting rid of Muggle-borns, putting pure-bloods in charge.
They weren't unique in that. Before Voldemort showed his true face, plenty of people thought some of what he said made sense…
But once they realized he'd do absolutely anything for power, they lost their nerve. They backed down.
Still, I think my parents probably saw Regulus joining early as something brave. Like he was some little hero.
But then he died."
Sirius's smile widened.
"He was killed by Voldemort. Or, more likely, killed on Voldemort's orders.
I doubt Regulus was ever important enough for Voldemort to bother killing personally.
From everything I found out after he died, he'd already gotten in too deep — and then he got scared of what they were asking him to do, and wanted out.
But you can't hand Voldemort a resignation letter and call it done.
You either serve for life, or you die.
That's his story. So what do you think? It tells you exactly what it costs to stand with evil. Only cowards and fools do things like that."
That was Sirius's conclusion.
"Perhaps the story we know isn't entirely the same, Mr. Black."
Sean's voice was soft, but it made Sirius deeply uneasy.
"Do you even know what you're saying? Or do you think I've got some reason to lie to you?"
Sirius frowned.
"I found Regulus Black in a very particular place."
Sean said slowly, and then he took out a strange wooden box.
It was large. It looked almost like a coffin.
Sirius pushed the lid aside hesitantly, and a corpse was revealed within — partially eaten away, soaked by water, dead in a horribly miserable state.
Even though Sirius had braced himself, the sight still hit him like a train in the chest. For a long time, he couldn't say a word.
"I think Kreacher will tell us a very different story."
Sean said.
The moment he finished speaking, a house-elf appeared in the hallway as if he had Apparated in.
He wore a filthy rag tied around his waist, like a tropical loincloth, and aside from that was almost completely naked.
He was very old. His skin looked like it sagged several sizes too big for his body. Though his head was bald like all house-elves, his huge bat-like ears had gone furry with white hair.
His eyes were bloodshot, watery, and gray. His fleshy nose was so large it looked almost like a pig's snout.
The instant he appeared, he let out a shriek:
"Master Black!"