<b>Title:</b> Seven Ways Regulus Black May Have Died
<b>Prompt:</b> Years
<b>Character:</b> Regulus, mention of Sirius
<b>Word Count:</b> 1246
<b>Rating:</b> PG for death
<b>Summary:</b> In other situations, he may have died differently
<b>Author’s Note:</b> It was done in haste. I am trying to finish it before DH comes out. The grammar sucks a bit.Done for <lj-user="fanfic100">
<b>Disclaimer:<b> Not mine, as much as I wish it to be

<b>Seven. Bliss</b>

It was a peaceful and lovely evening. He walked slowly towards his back garden and sat down in his armchair. He was old, not quite as old as Dumbledore was when he was still a young child, but old nonetheless. He was sitting comfortably, feeling the evening wind breezed across his body soothingly. Soft noises of cleaning and washing and bickering came from inside the house. He was sure Sirius was arguing with his brother again while their mother trying to clean up after dinner. Boys, never quite grasp the idea of being quiet. So very like their great granduncle. Speaking of which, he just remembered said great granduncle of the boys would be visiting this weekend. Well, that would thrill the boys. They always loved to listen to his brother’s wild tales about the second war against the Dark Lord.

That’s because you never tell them your own stories, Regulus.

Yes, his brother would definitely say that.

The evening was nice and peaceful, and he’s feeling a little tired. He felt that often these days.

“It wouldn’t hurt to take a short nap, would it”, he thought. And sleep claimed him silently.

Sirius trotted happily to the back garden, with a mission to tell great grandpa the dessert was ready. Behind him his twin brother Regulus was tagging along looking annoyed.

When the boys saw him sitting in his armchair so still, Regulus whispered,

“Looks like great grandpa is napping. We could let him take his nap first. Just save some dessert for him.”

Sirius nodded thoughtfully, but was pulled back by his brother before he could have a closer look.


<b>Six. Battle</b>

He saw Bellatrix aiming at Sirius and dived before he could think. Sirius was knocked to the floor and he stumbled on top of Sirius.

His consciousness leaving him quickly and he didn’t feel when Sirius shoved him up. He didn’t see Sirius furiously threw a stunner towards Bellatrix. He didn’t feel Sirius clutching his shoulder, frantically trying to wake him, refusing to believe it was a killing curse that knocked his brother down.

He was only thirty-six; and had just reunited with his brother for two short years.


<b>Five. Battle, again</b>

When he was twenty-five he encountered his brother in the battle field.

He was masked, so his brother did not recognize him at all. In the heat of battle he was still trying to follow the movement of his brother, worrying what might happened if this fight went too out of control.

He did not realize until it was too late that an Adava Kedavra was aimed at him. In the split second before his doom, he was wondering if the curse was sent by his brother.


<b>Four. Betrayal</b>

Lying on the floor, hurt from the frantic running and tired, he briefly entertained the idea of going to his brother, asking for help; but quickly dismissed it.

The best case, Sirius didn’t want to see or hear him and threw him out promptly. And he would be back to the same state as now. The worst case, Sirius believed him, tried to help him, only to find out moments later that they were surrounded by a large group of venomous Death Eaters. And Remus Lupin would discover their bodies the next day. Or worse, he would be killed alongside them.

This was definitely a bad idea. But he really needed to talk to his brother, he had so much information to give; and he wouldn’t trust any owl.

He desperately looked around to house, trying to find something that he could use. Invisible ink maybe, but even invisible ink could be revealed if the owl was intercepted. And he didn’t think he could get an owl at this hour. Maybe he could apparate to his brother’s flat; but he wasn’t sure he’s not been followed at this point.

Suddenly thought of something, he ran to his room and grabbed his journal from the bookshelf. Pointing his wand at the journal, he murmured a concealment charm and quickly ran to Sirius’ old room, hastily hiding the journal inside a small hole behind a painting and took something out from there. He then grabbed a piece of parchment from Sirius’ drawer, scribbled quickly on it,

<i>You know who I am, and you will find something important where you used to put all the letters from your friend. Get that as soon as possible.

R.
</i>
He slipped the note into an envelope, wrote down the address quickly and charmed the stamps he took out from the hole to be glued on it. He really hoped he remembered doing this correctly.

Then he walked out of the house stealthily, heading strait to what he remembered Sirius told him where the Muggles send their letters, and dropped the envelope into that box.

He hadn’t even walked a few hundred meters away before he heard faint apparating sounds behind him, and he turned around to see his fellow Death Eaters materialized before him.

He had a quiet smile on his face when a curse hit squarely on his chest, the last thought being hoping Sirius wouldn’t be too dense to find what he left.


<b>Three. Blood-traitor</b>

When he was eleven years old he went to Hogwarts. He never knew the sorting hat would do something like that to him.

“Gryffindor” was shouted loud and clear.

The hall was now full of either shocked or angry faces. Two Gryffindors from the Black family. Two in a row. That says something.

Lucius Malfoy hissed under his breath, “Never knew the Blacks had been disgraced to such a low level.”

His parents brought him straight home that night, and his brother was blissfully unaware in his sleep.

He didn’t know how to make his parents forgive him. He had promised to be good, to behave, to be proper; but now with this most shameful thing that could ever happened to a pureblood family, he didn’t know what he should do next.

His parents were furious. Seething and berating with such anger and venom. He was punished harshly with some spells he had no idea about.

In his painful state his subconscious mind seemed to take over and he screamed in rage, “I like them! The Gryffindors. They are nice! I like them! Why is this such a big deal?”

Mrs. Black cursed before she could stop herself. Green light flashed and filled the room.

And she soon regretted. She forgot that her other son was no better. At least this one looked afraid for a moment.


<b>Two. Bad luck</b>

He fell off from a tree when he was four.

His father told his mother, “This child must be a Squib. Sirius didn’t die from falling off a tree even when he was just two. A situation this dangerous should trigger his magic into playing. How sad that didn’t happen.”

His mother looking out to their garden, voice nonchalant, “It is a shame that a Squib should be born into the House of Black.”


<b>One. Baby</b>

He died a few minutes after he was born, the name “Regulus” had not even left his parents’ lips (they had selected this name long before he was born). He was weak, and could not take on his journey in this life. His father held his mother when the Healer told them their newborn was dead.

He whispered in her ear soothingly, “Don’t worry too much, we still have Sirius anyway.”

End