Word Count: 1,441
Written For:
- Open Category 5: The Ancient & Most Noble House of Black
- Gringotts Prompt Bank: (street title) Cathedral Avenue, (home title) Whitemarsh Mansion

i
Lady Luck

"I'm going to get them for what they did to you."

Sirius was sitting on the banking by the river with his brother. The river wasn't far from where they used to live at Grimmauld Place, and it was a spot where they often used to play as children. This location acted as a comfort to both of them, despite the unusual circumstances that they had been brought back together in their early adulthood.

Regulus was looking into the water as Sirius spoke. "You don't have to," he replied awkwardly, reaching out and picking up a large, water-smoothed pebble from the sandy ground. Regulus had always loved collecting seashells and pebbles. He turned it over in his hands whilst Sirius observed him. Regulus had always been paler than the rest of the family, but he seemed more peaky than normal on that day. His skin was almost grey and translucent, and dark purple bags were prominent below his ebony eyes. Sirius reached out and tucked a lock of Regulus's hair behind his ears.

"I do," he replied quietly. "I haven't come back here for nothing."

Regulus had just been walking past the big old house that belonged to the Lestrange family when he first properly got talking to them. He'd never had an interest in being friends with the Lestrange brothers and their gang of miscreants before that day, but he didn't have much of a choice in the matter.

"Oi, Black! You're Regulus Black, aren't you?"

Regulus froze on the spot where he was walking on Cathedral Avenue, and turned up to the enormous mansion. It was an ugly, grey building, with crispy brown ivy snaking up the colourless brickwork, and long, thin windows that didn't appear to let in much light. His eyes first fell on a sign by the steel gate, which read 'Whitemarsh Mansion', and then wandered to an upper floor window, where a rat-faced boy was sticking out his head. Regulus recognised the boy as Patrick Parkinson. He and his cronies were all a few years older than Regulus.

"Yes?"

"What you doing out here on your own?"

Regulus looked around, feeling slightly uncomfortable. It was often frowned upon to be having a shouted conversation through an open window—with Grimmauld Place being within a Muggle suburban, Regulus was all too used to witnessing such things.

"I'm just going into town," he murmured, referring to the Leaky Cauldron, where he was headed. He had planned on walking into the centre of Islington, as it was a sunny day, and then apparating to the Leaky Cauldron.

"What?"

"Diagon Alley," Regulus called a little louder, feeling extremely stupid.

"What you going there for?" Regulus could hear a distinct amount of sniggering from behind Parkinson.

"Erm," Regulus pressed his lips together, feeling his face burning with embarrassment. "I'm meeting a friend."

"Right. My mate in here says you should come in when you've seen your friend. Bring her back, if you want? We could use a few more of the ladyfolk in here."

"He's a boy," Regulus croaked.

"Well, you come back here with him. Okay?"

"Okay," Regulus had repeated, though he had no intention of stepping foot inside Whitemarsh Mansion.

Sirius had left Regulus by the river and wandered into Islington. He had hoped he would come into contact with the Lestranges and their gang.

They had hurt Regulus beyond belief. They'd humiliated him, drugged him, insulted him. They had attacked him, upset him, and worst of all—they'd left him. Left him alone to deal with the pain that they had inflicted upon him.

Sirius had never been that close to Regulus when they were children. They were siblings, and had a generic brotherly bond that was to be expected, but when they grew older and were separated when they entered Hogwarts, they soon distanced themselves from one another.

But it didn't matter how far apart they grew, or how many arguments they had. Regulus and Sirius had an unbreakable bond, and he would always go to the end of the earth for his brother. Even if that meant that he had to inflict the same kind of pain on the people who had hurt Regulus the most.

He soon found himself on Cathedral Avenue, and facing southwards, where Whitemarsh Mansion stood. Only six months had passed since Regulus had found himself inside that building, but it looked a hell of alot worse than Sirius remembered it. The concrete was crumbling, and Sirius noticed several windows had been put through and left in a state of disrepair. Since the Dark Lord had risen to power, it seemed that the once proud Lestrange family didn't care much for keeping their house in immaculate condition anymore.

Nobody appeared to be home, so Sirius continued walking until he came to a small café in the centre of the village. It was a Muggle village, so not many wizards were around, something which Sirius was glad about. More wizards meant that more people would recognise him, and he needed to make sure his alibi was clean for the next few days.

He sat down in a corner seat of the café and ordered a cup of tea, and he remained there for several hours.

Many people passed through the café. Sirius had never been interested in people watching, but he suddenly found he was fairly absorbed in observing the people that came in. Some people came in groups, and chattered and laughed for hours. Some people came in alone, like him, sitting in quiet corners of the café and sipping their tea. Couples wandered in with their fingers interlocked, having eyes for no one but each other. But it was the group of boisterous Muggle lads that were having a hushed conversation that peaked Sirius's interest.

His senses were keen due to spending a lot of time in his youth in his Animagi form, and he picked up on what the boys they were talking about. 'Getting some gear' was a common phrase that passed between them, and it didn't take a genius to work out that they were talking about drugs. It was what type of drugs that Sirius was interested in.

As if in answer, the door to the café suddenly swung open, the bell chiming loudly. A familiar rat-faced boy walked in, his skinny chest puffed out proudly. He was wearing an ill-fitting leather jacket which looked much too large for him, and obscenely tight blue jeans. A black baseball cap was perched on his head, and he wandered over to the table of boys with his hands thrust in his pockets.

He looked an eyesore. For a start, Patrick Parkinson didn't have a clue how to appropriately dress like a Muggle. The jacket he was wearing obviously belonged to Rabastan Lestrange, who Sirius remembered had a penchant for leather, and he wondered idly if Parkinson knew that the jeans were probably meant for a female. Secondly, it seemed that no-one had given Parkinson lessons on how to correctly deal drugs: with his shifty, pig-eyed squint and nervous, hunched walk, Sirius knew exactly what he was doing, and he expected that everyone else in the café did too.

Parkinson pulled something out of his pocket, and pressed it into the hand of the oldest looking Muggle. "You'll like this," he muttered. "It'll give you a good buzz. Me and the lads are calling it Lady Luck." Sirius saw a glimmer of dull gold as the tiny bottle was passed over, and Parkinson snatched a fistful of notes in payment.

It was Felix Felicis—and Sirius expected that it was poorly brewed Felix Felicis, which definitely wouldn't leave the Muggles with a 'good buzz'. He could hardly believe what he was seeing: Parkinson was distributing magical potions to Muggles, probably knowing full well that the use of wrongly brewed Felix Felicis would cause them harm, for payment.

Parkinson suddenly swung around, apparently aware that Sirius was staring at him. "You got a problem?" he asked, but Sirius didn't register that he was speaking. He was still too astounded that Parkinson would have the gall to be so stupid. "Oi! What the fuck are you looking at?"

"I'm looking at you, clearly!" snarled Sirius suddenly, causing the entire café to quieten. Parkinson flinched at Sirius's outburst, apparently not expecting such a snappy response. He backed up, span around, and exited the cafe quickly.

Sirius looked out of the window, his lips pursed. He could see that the sun was going down, creating a beautiful sunset over Islington. Soon the moon would rise, and his work could begin.

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