Ch. 21: The Difference Between Slytherins and Gryffindors

A/N: Why hello there, readers. Bet you thought this one was abandoned, huh? Nah, just a crazy year of work and travel before I finally got around to revisiting act III of my most beloved "By Candlelight". I was rereading it today and suddenly the ending, and the steps to get there, appeared in my mind. Yes, it's all been captured so I can hasten us forward quickly. Thank you for your patience, follows, and reviews! I hope you like where this ends up.

Sirius awoke in a bed not his own, staring at a textured white ceiling that he did not recognize. He groaned, feeling the result of many injuries. That last Crucio was pretty intense.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," his father said, tilting down his copy of the Daily Prophet.

His father looked better than he had in years, clear eyed and countenanced. Sirius had not realized until this point how much his father had changed before his very eyes without remark.

"Father?" Sirius asked. "What happened?" He took in more of his surroundings – a private room with a window enchanted to show a sunny day, a table against the wall across from him where his robes (and presumably wand) were, and a small bathroom. The sigil of St. Mungo's wiggled comfortingly from its prominent display on the calendar next to the window.

Orion grimaced and folded his paper, taking his time before answering Sirius. "What happened is I listened to what those older, and supposedly more knowledgeable than me, said. What happened is I almost let my wife destroy my family through complacency." He shivered. "And I could really use a brandy right now, but I'm trying to cut back. Your brother figured it out. Can't believe he found the countercurse to Imperio. I haven't met anyone under the age of 70 who's even read De Imago et Espiritu-"

"Yes, yes, Reggie's brilliant. But what happened really?"

Orion recounted the events of Christmas night as he remembered them, stressing that Walburga would never harm him again when Sirius's hands began to shake.

"As crass as it might sound to say, her death is no great loss. As you know, your mother and I had an arranged marriage – all at the behest of the Patriarch – and I can't say that I'm surprised she eventually took matters into her own hands. She always was quite resourceful." He trailed off, eyes a bit sad, before remembering his mask.

Sirius was disappointed to see the stoic lines of his father's face reassert themselves into calm – it was the first time he had ever thought of his father as human.

"So, what happens now?" Sirius asked.

"Oh, many things. I have to get my proxies to the Wizengamot fired – you would not believe some of the cockamamie legislation your mother was bribing them to back in the name of our family – and of course hush everything up with the Aurors. They saw the condition you were in and fortunately aren't asking too many questions. A good thing the name Black still commands some respect. Then I shall have to focus on resolving the debts your mother acquired while I was indisposed, and we have to start finding a suitable young woman for you-"

Sirius sat up quickly, regretting it when the room started spinning. He put a hand to his head, eyes closed as he responded. "Not necessary, already found one."

"Sirius, be, well-"

"Serious?" he asked with a grin, opening his eyes in an attempt to convey his earnestness. "I am, completely. You haven't met her father, she's brilliant and talented and she made Reggie and I get along again and she's fighting that-"

Sirius shut his mouth, quickly, when he noticed how far his father's eyebrows had climbed.

"She is also a muggle-born. I may not harbor the same level of aversion that your mother did, but there

are limits to my tolerance, son. There is a place for people like her and it is not in my parlor."

Sirius began to protest when Orion interrupted him by rising. "We will speak of this when you are well, my son."

With that, Orion left Sirius in the hospital bed. The younger wizard sat back, thumping the mattress a few times for good measure. His father was impossible - not as evil as his mother, but apparently just as bigoted when it really came down to it. He swore a few times too, just because it felt good.

"Are you done yet?" Regulus asked from the door. Sirius turned his head slowly, not even the slightest bit embarrassed.

"How long have you been standing there?" Sirius asked, his tone of voice anything but friendly.

"Long enough," Regulus approached Orion's recently vacated chair and sat down on it.

"Come to gloat, then?" Sirius asked. Regulus kept his features carefully arranged, but his response was still astonished.

"What could I possibly have to gloat about? I watched my big brother get tortured by our mother and it was, at least partially, my fault."

"And I'm sure that you aren't inwardly rejoicing that you're this much closer to being the Heir, not after what Father just said."

"I can assure you, that is the furthest from my mind. I'm just glad-"

Sirius looked at him cautiously. "Glad what?"

"I'm just glad you're alright."

The brothers sat in silence for a moment, neither sure what to say. They had been at odds for so long, even if it was Sirius causing most of it, and Regulus felt the need to explain himself.

"I'm not like you, brother. I can't tell them all to go to hell, I have to fit in, get along, try to succeed the

way that they want me to. I belong in Slytherin, Sirius, but it doesn't mean that it's all I am."

Regulus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Go on," Sirius prompted.

"When Bellatrix wrote to me asking for information on Hermione, I didn't know her yet. She wasn't whatever she is to you yet-"

"The only woman I'll ever love, that's what she is to me, Regulus," Sirius stated definitively.

"Yes, well, I didn't know that at the time and I'm pretty sure you hadn't said more than ten words to her when I wrote my response. And after that I couldn't find a good enough reason to stop writing to her. You know what she was like, she would have said something to Cissy who would have said something to Mother and then there would be two of us in these hospital beds. I had to keep writing to her, don't you see?"

Sirius frowned at him. "No, I don't see. You knew what Bellatrix was going to do with that information. You know who she was working with. How could that possibly have ended well for Hermione?"

Regulus looked down at his boots, addressing his next words to them. "I know, alright? I'm sorry, and I'll never do something like that again."

Now, for most brothers that wouldn't have been much of an apology. Sirius, however, knew how much that admission had cost his brother. He also remembered Hermione's admonition that they must stand united against the Dark. Regulus was asking for forgiveness in the most explicit way his Slytherin nature would allow. It was up to Sirius to follow his own brash, welcoming Gryffindor way.

"Well, Reggie, with any luck my girlfriend will make sure you never have to."

With great difficulty, he began extracting himself from the hospital bed.

"What are you doing?" Regulus asked. Sirius ignored him as he gained his feet, wobbling for a moment on weak legs. He didn't intend on staying at St. Mungo's a second longer than necessary – his father would be back and dictating his future to him all too soon. Wincing and slow, he made his way over to the table where his effects were stored.

"You're supposed to stay in bed. You were Crucioed for minutes on end – you aren't well!"

Still in his hospital gown, Sirius rummaged through his stained dinner robes until he found his wand. He left the robes though – they were filthy.

"Come on Reggie!"

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

The Potters often entertained company throughout the Christmas season, but the war had put a damper on some events. Still, nights like tonight, where key Order members convened in the Potter's well-appointed parlor for conversation and plotting, were fairly common. Dorea was laughing at something her husband had said when Fimmy cracked open the parlor door and motioned frantically to her. Seeing the tears in her elf's large brown eyes, Dorea quickly excused herself and stepped into the hallway.

"Fimmy, what is it?"

Fimmy opened her mouth to speak, but shut it again just as a strong hand roughly grabbed Dorea's arm. She turned, stiffly, to face her assailant: Moody.

"Can I help you, Auror Moody?"

"Yes, I believe you can, Miss Black," he said with an unkind smirk. She tried to shake off his hand but he held firm.

"That's Lady Potter to you, Auror-"

"Nah, a Potter wouldn't know anything about Horcruxes, but a Black would. I saw your face when the

Granger girl let slip that little tidbit on Halloween night. Pieces of one's soul contained within an object and rendering the caster immortal. But you seemed to know what they were before she explained it to the rest of us."

Dorea forced her expression to calm, and ceased struggling against Moody. She glanced around, noting that only Fimmy was nearby.

"You could have just asked me that, without all the theatrics and editorializing. Horcruxes are a very, very Dark and insane piece of magic used only by the stupid or the desperate."

"Someone like the so-called Dark Lord?" Moody asked.

"I suppose," Dorea sniffed.

"And what, pray tell, does this piece of Dark magic do?"

"The Horcrux is a product of a dark ritual, Rituum Azrael. I'm not familiar with all the steps, of course,

but the final two are well known. The caster kills an innocent - the more innocent the victim, the more powerful the spell - and places a piece of their soul within an object, thus creating the Horcrux."

Moody harrumphed, but let go of her arm. "How would she know that he did that, though? I've never even heard of them." Moody scratched his chin, eyes narrowed and pondering.

Though she was loathe to prolong this conversation, a thought occurred to Dorea. She brought her hand to her chest reflexively, attempting to calm her suddenly racing heart.

"Hermione said 'Horcruxes' – plural."

"Eh?"

"She said something about 'Horcruxes' not a single Horcrux. Which means Voldemort has likely done this ritual multiple times. Which means he will be even harder to stop."

"And she implied that he'd hidden them, that we would need to search for them."

"Well of course he hid them, the objects themselves aren't indestructible."

"But I bet he put all sorts of traps down for those who want to find them, if anyone even knew. How did she know?"

Moody glanced at Dorea from the corner of his eye. "Thank you for your cooperation." With that, he made his way toward the exit.

Someone coughed behind her, half scaring Dorea out of her skin. She whirled around in time to see James emerge from his Invisibility Cloak.

"Um, Sirius is here. He brought his brother. I sent Fimmy for you..."

"Oh, you are in such trouble young man!"