January 7th, 1974. The first Monday of the year. Opening day at Hogwarts.
Ten in the morning, sky overcast. Two figures stood outside 12 Grimmauld Place.
Sirius stood beside him in a new robe of his own, dark, cut similarly to Regulus's though the cuff patterning differed slightly. The same Black crest over the left breast.
He hadn't fought wearing it. Pulled it on and walked out.
Maybe because he'd made peace with something, or maybe because he'd made a decision. Next holiday, he probably wouldn't be walking back through this door. Last time. The family gave him a new robe, so he wore it.
Regulus glanced at him. Said nothing.
A crack split the air, and Kreacher squeezed into existence between them.
The elf was wrapped in his old tea towel. His ears quivered twice. He looked up at the young master, then at the elder master, and reached out a bony finger toward their trouser legs.
Sirius sidestepped.
Kreacher's finger hung in the air, then swung toward Regulus. His ears drooped.
Regulus cut a sideways look at Sirius. Didn't speak. The look said enough.
Sirius cocked an eyebrow at him, mouth splitting into a grin, something irrepressible in his voice. "Try me?"
Regulus read the expression and knew what he was after.
Fresh off learning Apparition. Wanted to show off, or maybe give Regulus a rough ride through the tunnel.
But thinking it over, Sirius probably didn't have the skill to deliberately warp the spatial passage to make it unpleasant. Knowing him, this was simpler than that. New trick, itchy hands, wanted to strut.
Fine. Let him strut.
The corner of Regulus's mouth tugged. He pressed Baruk gently from his shoulder into his inner pocket. "You sure you can handle it?"
Sirius bared his teeth, ignored the jab, and slapped a hand onto Regulus's shoulder.
Regulus didn't resist. He even damped his own magical signature down.
Apparition wasn't advanced magic. Spatial transit was a core application, taught in sixth year at Hogwarts, not hard to learn.
But its ceiling was high. Sirius was a beginner, and Regulus didn't entirely trust his stability.
His own magic would feel like dead weight to Sirius. Without suppressing it, he'd throw off the whole transit.
He turned to Kreacher. "Go on home, Kreacher."
Kreacher shot Sirius a sour look but bowed and vanished with a crack.
Sirius grinned wide. The next instant, space compressed. Crack. Both of them disappeared from the front step of 12 Grimmauld Place.
King's Cross Station. Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Behind a pillar, two figures materialized on the stone floor.
Regulus found his footing. No discomfort worth mentioning.
Not bad, if he was honest.
Nowhere near his own standard, of course. But for this stage? A competent Apparition.
Baruk shifted in his pocket and clicked once, soft. No bristling.
The platform was already buzzing.
A small girl clutching an owl cage sprinted past them, nearly crashing into the pillar. Her father called after her to slow down.
A wave of steam rolled across their feet, carrying the smell of coal smoke and engine oil.
Sirius stood beside Regulus, taking in the scene. For a moment, he didn't speak.
He'd been coming here for nearly three years now, every term the same: Apparition, land, push through the crowd, board the train.
Before, this platform had been his escape hatch from Grimmauld Place. Every time he stood here, all he wanted was for the train to start moving.
Today the train sat there as it always did. And so did he.
After a beat, Sirius snapped out of it.
He turned to Regulus, mouth splitting open, eyebrow cocked, the smugness flooding back. "Well?"
"Not bad."
Sirius stared at him for a long moment, let out an indignant noise, and turned his face away.
A whistle sounded across the platform, and the crowd began funneling toward the carriages.
Sirius looked at Regulus, something complicated in his expression, layered over with a restless energy. "I'm off, then."
Regulus made a quiet sound of acknowledgment and nodded.
Sirius didn't move. He kept looking at Regulus. His lips parted, closed, parted again. His face did something odd, like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the opening, his tongue turning uselessly in his mouth.
Finally he gave up on subtlety and asked outright. "Nothing you want to say to me?"
Regulus looked at that awkward face and almost laughed.
He could guess what was going on in Sirius's head. The idiot was writing himself a scene again.
Probably been building toward this moment since he woke up. Leaving home, leaving Grimmauld Place, never coming back. The big step, finally taken.
But having taken it, he'd found it wasn't the triumph he'd imagined.
The escape he'd pictured was supposed to be a slammed door, no looking back, the family that didn't understand him shrinking in the distance along with everything he never wanted to touch again.
The reality didn't match.
Nobody had tried to stop him. Walburga hadn't stopped him. Orion hadn't stopped him. Regulus least of all.
He'd thrown everything he had into rebellion, and somewhere along the way he'd realized the family had been rolling with it the whole time.
He had worked it out, genuinely. His path wasn't at Grimmauld Place, wasn't in Pure-blood circles, wasn't in the Black family's traditions.
But he wasn't going to leave lightly, either.
Probably because he'd finally noticed: the door had been open all along. Nobody had ever locked it.
All the anger, the defiance, the table-flipping, and in the end every blow had landed on cotton.
Leaving was his choice. No one had forced him. No one had begged him to stay.
Or maybe it was that this version of leaving wasn't dramatic enough, wasn't fierce enough, didn't match the picture he'd built in his head.
Regulus let all of that pass without comment.
He stepped forward, raised a hand, and held his palm flat above Sirius's head, measuring the difference in their heights.
Half an inch. Less than a finger joint.
He dropped his hand, turned, and walked toward the carriages, leaving only one line behind him. "Eat properly."
Sirius stood rooted to the spot for a good while.
He watched Regulus's back disappear into the crowd, the deep grey robe flickering in and out of the steam. On one shoulder, the small dark-red spider poked half its body out and looked back at him.
A laugh burst out of him. He pulled a face, shook his head, tugged at the collar of his robe, then turned and strode off in the other direction.
In the distance, the Potter family stood three strong by a carriage door. Fleamont was rummaging through a trunk for something, Euphemia was straightening James's scarf. James squirmed twice without breaking free, muttering protests.
Remus Lupin stood beside them, looking a bit pale, a small case in his hand. He spotted Sirius and waved.
James saw him too, shoved his mother's hand away, and shouted across the platform, waving wildly.
Sirius's grin split wide. He laughed and headed toward them, his stride lengthening with every step until the last few were nearly a run.
That was where he belonged.
Regulus emerged from behind the pillar. A few steps out, he raised a hand and cast the Disillusionment Charm. His form wavered in the steam and vanished.
He'd felt them the moment they landed. Several gazes settling on him.
From the platform benches, from carriage doorways, from beside the pillars. Mostly adults, several in well-cut robes with children in tow. Parents, most likely.
They'd seen him talking to Sirius and kept their distance.
Now that he'd stepped into the open, heads were turning. Two of them had already started walking his way.
Word about the Christmas banquet had spread.
Regulus had no interest in fielding these people at a train station. He kept to the edge of the crowd and made his way toward the rear carriages.
Cuthbert stood at the door of the third carriage, up on his toes, craning toward the center of the platform. He wore a new emerald-green robe, a silver brooch pinned at his collar, hair combed neat.
Regulus stepped up beside him and tapped his shoulder. "I'm heading up."
Cuthbert whipped around, saw no one, but recognized the voice.
Regulus was already on the boarding step, through the door and gone.
Cuthbert blinked, processed, and broke into a grin, visibly buzzing. But he didn't follow right away. He turned and scanned the crowd until he spotted Hermes and Alex, waved them over, and the three of them boarded together.