Chapter 7: A Deepening Rift
Late autumn, 1968. The last leaf had fallen from the beech trees in the courtyard of 12 Grimmauld Place.
Regulus was seven.
The past year of magic-channeling exercises had yielded remarkable results. His strength had grown, his constitution had noticeably improved, his magical perception had sharpened, and his control had become ever more refined.
Sirius was eight — and his rebellion had entered a new phase.
He was no longer satisfied with mere backtalk; he had begun to resist systematically.
When Walburga told him to recite the family tree, he deliberately mangled the names. When told to practice etiquette, he transfigured his teacup into a frog. When dressed in formal robes, he tore the collar.
During one dinner, Sirius openly challenged pure-blood theory. Walburga erupted, and Regulus smoothed things over — but Sirius saw it as pandering to their parents. The brothers' conversations grew fewer and fewer.
Sometimes Regulus would encounter Sirius in the corridor, and the look in his brother's eyes was complicated — anger at perceived betrayal, bewilderment, and a trace of disappointment.
'He thinks I chose the family, and that means I betrayed him.' But in a sense, he was right.