The Grimmauld Place was hollow.

Not tonight especially but as a general mood of the house which Walburga Black was quite satisfied with. She always prided herself in the discipline she provided for her sons. For the family's close circle this demeanor was highly and secretly entertaining. Mrs. Black's elder son was the farthest from being disciplined. Despite his mother's best efforts to cover this, there was no wizard who did not know. The Gryffindor of the Blacks. The odd one out.

So on another warm summer night, the Grimmauld Place was hollow. And loud. The younger boy listened quietly. It was the screaming match of the century. The two most stubborn people he knew were at it once more.

"He wants you in his ranks! Despite your house and your words he does! What a privilage, don't you understand?"

Regulus positioned himself on the stairs to see better. If mother noticed, he would surely be sent back to his room. He saw a vase fly across the large room and smash against the wall. Typical Sirius.

"Act your age Sirius! I am tired of explaining to you how important this is. You will finally honor your family! I don't know what you're trying to accomplish by all this smashing however-"

"I'm trying to fucking calm down!"

"Language!"

"FUCK YOU! Fuck you and your family and most of all, FUCK YOUR HONOR!"

Regulus couldn't see his brother. But he could see his mother from the side and he'd never seen her freeze like that. There was something dangerous in the way she stood. He wanted to warn Sirius but he wasn't fast enough. Walburga Black pulled out her wand swiftly and quickly.

"Crucio"

Forgetting all caution, he threw himself up from his place on the stairs and rushed to the saloon,

"Sirius!"

But his mother stopped him from moving further with one swift movement of her hand. Sirius was on the ground writhing and making unpleasant sounds, but despite all his suffering, still refusing to scream.

"Go to your room, Regulus." His mother spoke icily. He wanted to say no, he wanted to stay but he'd never been brave enough to refuse her. He wasn't Sirius. So after a final threathening glance from his mother he went back to his room. Soon he heard Sirius's voice stop, his mother's threathening, falsely warm pleas ("Oh, my darling, I had to-" ) and Sirius's quick, thomping footsteps. They'd all thought he had retreated to his room, but there was a doubt eating Regulus' mind. What were those sounds? In less than only five minutes he heard the same footsteps after an angry yell. (Regulus would understand later that Sirius was trying and failing to rip the pictures plastered on his wall.) The outer door slammed. It was quick. Even Walburga Black hadn't had the time to object. It was a warm summer night and the house was hollow. In that inevitable hollowness, Regulus Black's brother had abandoned him to his mother's ice cold plans of his fate. Through his tears, the soon to be fifteen years old boy revelled in his loneliness. Through his tears, Regulus Black learned to hate his brother even more than before, perhaps as much as his brother always hated him.

Grimmauld Place was more hollow than before and the young boy was broken.