On this particular night, the Noble Black Family had many visitors in their home at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. The younger of the two sons wandered, talking with the guests of his home, smiling pleasantly, but never really saying a word. His mother caught sight of him from across the room and motioned for him to join her…
The woman rolls her eyes, disgusted with her elder son.
The boy hesitates, his brow creasing ever so slightly.
A moment passes and the boy still has not moved.
The boy makes his way up the stairs to the third floor, passing by the heads of dead house elves mounted on the wall, various family portraits that nod at him politely, numerous candelabra adorned with silver snakes baring their fangs, until finally he reaches the top of the stairs. On one side is his own room where the door is marked with a silver plate, reading “Regulus Arcturus Black.” He crosses to the door opposite. He knocks and waits.
“Sirius?” he calls. There is no reply. The boy reaches out, twists the door handle and enters the room.
Sirius: And did she tell you just how the imperious curse works…
A blaze of scarlet and gold from around Sirius’ neck catches his brother’s eye.
The elder brother shoves his way past the younger. Regulus can hear his steps descending the stairs. He closes his eyes. And waits. The sound of his brothers steps fade and a moment later, he hears what he expected to hear; the painfully shrill shrieks of his mother and the sharp cracks of guests disapparating.