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Forgotten

A Study in Contrasts

Regulus Black had never been good enough. It had been one of the bitterest lessons of his childhood – that he could never measure up to his brother. Sirius, even as a child, had been charming, arrogant, and just insolent enough that adults chuckled and laughed rather than reprimanded him. It had come of being the spoiled heir to the Black fortune.

In contrast, Regulus, who was, after all, a second son, was less daring, less charming, less likely to come out with something witty… less important. For most of his early life, the only person he felt he could be himself around was Sirius, even though Sirius was the reason that he wasn't loved as much.

Regulus had always loved Sirius, revered him, emulated him… but at the same time hated him. Sirius was the favorite, the one everybody remembered, but he never put much effort into anything; he always goofed off. Regulus worked hard at everything in a desperate attempt to be noticed for himself, not as Sirius's little brother, the nonessential scion of the House of Black.

When Sirius left for Hogwarts, Regulus cherished the new opportunity to finally win his mother's affection. He thought that, with Sirius out of the picture, perhaps now was his time to shine, and that, when he went to Hogwarts and joined his brother in Slytherin, they could be partners for the first time, no longer unequal.

Then the letter from Hogwarts came, and Regulus's half-formed hopes were dashed.

Gryffindor. Shock, confusion, worry, fear, anger, and a slight glimmer of hope warred in Regulus as he looked at the letter that Sirius had sent his parents – a short, terse note grimly stating the situation.

Regulus barely heard his parents screaming at each other. All he could think about was his chance – if Sirius was a disgrace, didn't that automatically make him the better brother? He thought so.

When Regulus was alone several nights after the catastrophe of a Sorting, he received a letter – also from his elder brother, but this time not bearing bad news.

Reg, it read. I guess by now you've heard. I know Mother and Father weren't happy, but I hope that they didn't take anything out on you. If they did, I'm sorry.

Reg, don't be mad at me for being in Gryffindor, okay? It really is the place for me. People laugh, they have fun, nobody cares about blood or marrying people off or anything like what Bella and Narcissa described Slytherin as. It's a good place. I've got good friends – actual friends, not kids who I have to be nice to and who have to be nice to me because our parents like each other.

When you come to Hogwarts, don't go to Slytherin just because you think you have to. You don't have to. If Gryffindor isn't your place, try Ravenclaw. You don't seem like a Hufflepuff, but maybe. Just… don't feel pressured at all.

If you don't want to talk to me anymore, that's fine. But think about what I'm saying.

Sirius

Regulus stared at the letter for a long time. He would keep Sirius's advice in mind, he decided, but not necessarily act on it.

That was what Blacks did, and he was going to be the best Black son.

The summer before Regulus was to go to Hogwarts, he did something wrong – made a mess, couldn't understand a lesson, something trivial. His mother, exasperated beyond provocation, shouted at him, and every word burned into Regulus's heart.

"Why couldn't you have been the blood-traitor?"

She went on, but Regulus's mind had stopped listening and was busy replaying those words. He could not make it fit with his worldview. Even perpetually disgraced, hovering on the edge of disownment, Sirius was still better than him.

But he would change that.

Regulus Arcturus Black was sorted into Slytherin.

From there on, he had a new set of problems. The teachers who liked Sirius – McGonagall and Flitwick among them – were likely to treat him a little more coldly than they treated other students. Other Slytherins were disapproving of his "undesirable family connections;" Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange made it clear that he would have to work hard to make up for Sirius's behavior. The pack of Gryffindors who were Sirius's friends despised him, their golden boy's Slytherin brother. Regulus still couldn't measure up. And he couldn't win.

In Regulus's third year, he had what was to be his last real conversation with his brother for years. It started with a question.

"Regulus," Sirius nodded, moving to step around his younger brother.

The thirteen-year-old didn't move. Sirius looked at him with a mixture of exasperation and confusion.

"Reg, move."

"Why won't you talk to me anymore?" Regulus blurted out.

Sirius looked at his brother. It was an interesting deviation from Reg's new Slytherin persona – calm, collected, and cool.

"I sort of thought it was you not talking to me," he answered.

Regulus furrowed his brow. "Ever since I was sorted into Slytherin you haven't talked to me."

Sirius snorted. "That was three years ago. I've talked to you since then."

Regulus shook his head. "Not really. Not about anything important."

Sirius thought about it. "No, I guess not. But why pick now to talk about it?"

"Can you think of a better time?" Regulus asked, spreading out his hands.

Sirius looked around. Regulus made a fair point. There was nobody in the hallway to hear them.

"Kid, can you really take the truth?"

The boy's chin went up, but Sirius could see uncertainty. Despite that, Regulus's voice remained firm. "Yes."

"Sit down, then, Reggie."

Regulus did, and Sirius slid down beside him. "What do you want to know?"

"Do you miss being a part of the family? I mean a real part. Doing what good Blacks do and not being a blood traitor."

Sirius didn't hesitate. "Not at all. The family's crazy, Reg. Every last one of them."

Regulus frowned faintly. "I'm one of them."

"But you don't have to be, Reg," Sirius said, quickly. Maybe he could still save his little brother. "You don't have to think like them."

Regulus's face lost what little emotion it had. "Maybe I already do." And he walked away, leaving Sirius behind.

And it felt so good to turn the tables on his big brother.

Slightly over a year later, Sirius was disowned and Regulus became the sole heir of the Black fortune, the sole recipient of the family's hopes and dreams.

The spotlight was a little uncomfortable, but nothing he couldn't take. He was going to be the perfect son.

He didn't miss Sirius.

Not even a little.

When Regulus was sixteen, Sirius sent him a letter – an unprecedented event.

Regulus,

I know we haven't talked in years. I know I wasn't a good brother. Consider this an apology.

I'm sorry, Reg. I'm sorry that after I was Sorted, our parents put all the pressure on you. I'm sorry for everything I did to you at school. I realize that you probably can't forgive me, but I wanted to get it out there.

Reggie, if you ever want to talk, to somebody other than… them, I'm here. I won't turn you away. I promise.

Think about it, okay?

Sirius

The letter went unanswered.

A year later Regulus joined the Death Eaters.

When Sirius was twenty, he heard a knock on his door. He opened it to find his brother standing outside, fidgeting.

"Regulus?"

"Yeah, it's me. I just – can I come in?"

Sirius blinked. "Sure, sure. It's a bit of a mess, but… yeah."

When the two brothers were seated at the kitchen table, Sirius broke the ice.

"Reg, why are you here? I thought you hated me."

"I… did. But you were right." He smiled bitterly. "You always were. Even when everybody I knew hated you, you were still right. But that doesn't matter now. You've apologized to me a couple times. It's my turn."

Sirius started to open his mouth, but Regulus cut him off. "Just shut up for once in your bloody life and let me talk, ok?"

Sirius nodded.

"Finally." Regulus didn't go on immediately, and Sirius took the opportunity to examine his brother. He didn't like what he saw. Reg seemed more bitter and cynical than he had when the brothers last saw each other. There was a desperation about him, thinly veiled. His eyes seemed mocking.

"Look, I don't want to hear any more 'It's my fault, let me apologize,' speeches, because you're right. It is your fault. But it's a little late to change things. I just want to know one thing – two, actually." He paused. "When I was little, you promised me you'd never lie to me and you'd answer every question I asked you if you could. So here's my question. It's your chance to keep that promise, and it might be your last." He paused. "First question. Why did your friends always call you Padfoot?"

Sirius frowned, trying to figure out what his brother meant by that last statement, but began to speak without the thought of consequences. He figured he owed his little brother something, after all. "I'm an Animagus. Big black dog."

Regulus's brows lifted. "Show me."

Sirius did so.

The younger man seemed thoughtful. "Why?"

Sirius winced. "Sorry, but I can't tell you that. It's not my secret."

Regulus, nodding, said, "Fair enough."

The brothers sat in silence for a time. They faced each other across the table, and both were struck by how different the other appeared. As children, they had been nearly identical in looks, but not so anymore.

"What else?" Sirius asked quietly.

Regulus seemed startled. "What?"

"You said you had two things to ask me. What's the second one?" Sirius asked.

"Were… were you happy? In Gryffindor, living with the Potters, leaving… your family?" For the first time during the strange meeting, Regulus started to falter. Sirius had a feeling that his brother had been about to say "me," before changing it to "your family."

"Yes," he said firmly. "I was very happy."

"No regrets?" Regulus had regained his poise.

Sirius, about to answer "No," changed suddenly. "Yes. I wished you had been sorted into Gryffindor… or at least Ravenclaw. I didn't want to leave you behind." Remembering Reg's "no apologies" rule, Sirius stopped talking.

Regulus nodded thoughtfully. "Then I wish you good luck in your life, brother." He began to rise.

"Wait! Are you leaving? You can stay here, if you want…" Sirius's voice trailed off.

"Thank you, but no. I need to go. I have a very important appointment to keep." Regulus smirked, as if to himself, but something seemed strange. Maybe it was the way his smile never met his eyes, or the way he looked as if he was keeping tears from bay.

Sirius followed his brother to the door. "Reg…"

"I'm sorry, Sirius."

Sirius suddenly realized that this was the first time in the interview that Regulus had addressed him by his first name. "For what?"

"This." And Regulus's wand came up, faster than Sirius could react. "Obliviate," he whispered.

Regulus Black died alone that night, mourned only by the people upon whom he had turned his back.