You Two Fight
The Hogwarts Express came to a stop at King's Cross Station, steam billowing out and the platform engulfed in white mist.
Students poured out of the train carriages, while parents waved, called out names, and hugged each other from the other end of the platform.
Regulus and Sirius walked together, drawing attention.
A man dressed in a black wizard's robe, with a Black Family Crest Brooch pinned to his collar, walked with steady steps and had a calm gaze.
A man wearing Muggle jeans and a plaid shirt, with messy hair and an impatient expression on his face.
The two are about the same height, have similar facial features, high nose bridges, deep-set eyes, and thin lips.
But their temperaments are completely different.
Regulus was reserved, but everyone knew he was sharp enough.
Sirius could catch fire at any moment, burning others and itself in the process.
Several younger girls secretly watched them and whispered among themselves.
The parents around them, even those from Pureblood families, recognized the Black brothers. Even those from Muggle-born who didn't recognize them would think the two were good-looking, despite one of them having a sour expression.
They walked to a less crowded corner of the platform, where Kreacher was already waiting.
The House-elf, dressed in Tea Towel bearing the Black family crest, bowed deeply, his nose almost touching the ground.
"The young the Master is back," Kreacher said in a hoarse but respectful voice. "Kreacher has come to take the young the Master home."
It stretched out its two wrinkled hands and placed them on Sirius's and Regulus's arms respectively.
Sirius stiffened; he didn't like the House-elf touching him, and he disliked Kreacher even more.
Space distortion.
The scene on the platform was blurred, the colors mixed together, and then reformed, becoming the Entrance Hall of 12 Grimmauld Place.
The walls were covered with portraits of members of the Black family throughout history; several of them were awake and looking down at them.
"Ah, the rebels are back," Phineas Nigellus said, stroking his goatee, his tone mocking. "Wearing Muggle rags, what a disgrace to the Black family."
Sirius ignored him, shook off Kreacher's hand, and strode inside.
Walburga rushed out of the living room.
She saw Regulus first, and a smile immediately bloomed on her face.
"Regulus!" She opened her arms and gave him a warm hug. "Well done! I heard about that arrogant Belmont family kid!"
Let him know that the Black family is not to be trifled with! Upholding family dignity, that's what my son is all about!
She spoke quickly, her voice somewhat shrill, echoing in the empty Entrance Hall.
After speaking for almost a minute, her smile vanished instantly, as if she had just seen Sirius, and her lips turned down.
"You're back too." The tone was as cold as if addressing an unwelcome guest.
Sirius smirked, but didn't say anything.
Orion nodded to the two of them, his tone flat and even. "Regulus, Sirius."
"Let's eat." Orion turned and walked towards the restaurant.
The long table was covered with a dark green tablecloth, the Silver Instruments was polished to a gleaming shine, House-elf dish after dish.
Roast Lamb Chops with mint sauce, Cream of Mushroom Soup, asparagus salad, and candied plum pudding.
Walburga sat to the left of the main seat and spoke to Regulus the entire time.
Ask him about his exam results, ask him about the internal reaction within Slytherin, and ask him about his plans for next semester.
Regulus's answers were brief, but every word pleased her, and she smiled until her eyes narrowed into slits.
Sirius sat next to Regulus, like a ghost.
No one served him food, no one asked him questions, and even the House-elf avoided him when serving the food.
He looked at the cold mushroom soup on the plate, and his stomach churned as he thought of the Chocolate Frog and Cauldron Cake he had eaten on the train.
He mechanically scooped up the mashed potatoes from the plate, spoonful after spoonful, his eyes fixed on the pattern on the tablecloth.
Regulus was slicing Lamb Chop, his movements slow and deliberate, occasionally responding to Walburga's words.
Sirius looked at him, a surge of inexplicable anger rising within him.
Why are you so calm?
Why can you endure all of this?
Why did you choose to become what they wanted you to be?
He knew it was unfair to think that way; Regulus had his reasons and his choices.
Even though he didn't understand or accept Regulus's reasons and choices.
But sitting in this restaurant, listening to Walburga's shrill laughter, and looking at the condescending gaze of the Portrait on the wall, he couldn't control his anger.
He wanted to flip the table, smash things, and yell, "You're all fucking crazy!"
But he didn't do that; he just lowered his head and continued scooping the mashed potatoes.
Dinner is over.
Orion put down his napkin.
"Regulus," he said, "Take a break, then head to the Training Room."
He then looked at Sirius: "You go too."
Sirius froze, his spoon hovering in mid-air. After a moment, he nodded, his voice dry. "Okay."
He stood up, left the restaurant, and went upstairs to his room.
I pushed open the door, and everything in the room was as usual.
The bed sheets were newly changed, carrying the scent of sunshine, and the books he read as a child were on the bookshelf.
The Quidditch Through the Ages, Trolls on Tour, A History of Magic Anecdotes.
He used to do his homework at that desk by the window, and was scolded by Walburga for writing characters that looked like spiders crawling across the paper.
He walked around the room, his fingers tracing the tabletop, the edge of the bookshelf, and the windowsill.
He walked around the room, his fingers tracing the tabletop, the edge of the bookshelf, and the windowsill.
There was very little dust, indicating that the House-elf cleaned the house regularly.
But he didn't feel at home. It was like a showroom, displaying the past of the Eldest son of the Black family, but it wasn't him.
He is Sirius Black, and he doesn't want to be the Eldest son of the Black family.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his hands resting on his knees, looking down at the floor.
He didn't know how to face Regulus. His brother had chosen a path he despised, but undeniably, his brother had done a good job.
A perfect score of O, top of the Slytherin freshman class, he could easily handle even a seventh-year student like Arnold Belmont.
Regulus thrived in Slytherin and gained a reputation among Pure-blood Circle. He succeeded, in the way Sirius most despised.
He didn't know how to face Orion; his father never scolded him, never hit him, and rarely even said anything to him.
But that silent, suppressed gaze was even more suffocating than Walburga's screams.
His father seemed to accept that he should receive that kind of education and become a qualified successor to Black.
When Sirius rebelled, his father neither stopped him nor supported him.
He just watched, as if he were indifferent to everything, as if Sirius were a complete stranger.
At Hogwarts, surrounded by James and the others, Sirius could temporarily forget all this.
He could laugh, he could act silly, he could play pranks, and he could think, "To hell with the Black family."
But back in Grimmauld Place, back in this room, those repressed feelings surged up again.
Half an hour later, there was a knock on the door.
Sirius went to open the door, Regulus was standing outside, already changed into his training clothes: a black tight-fitting top and dark gray trousers, no longer wearing his robe.
"Let's go," Regulus nodded gently, his tone calm. "To the Training Room."
Sirius followed him downstairs blankly.
They arrived at Orion's Study, where a seemingly ordinary portrait of the Black family hung on the Study at the far end.
As the two approached, the portrait slowly slid to one side, revealing a hidden Stone Gate, Stone Gate then slowly opened.
Orion was already waiting there.
He also changed into a more comfortable outfit, dark gray in color and simple in style, but the fabric looked anything but ordinary.
He stood with his back to the door, and when he heard footsteps, he turned around, his gaze first falling on Regulus.
The Easter holiday has only been over for a short time, and the child seems to have grown a little taller.
His facial features are more defined, his eyes are calmer, and standing there, he has become so composed that he no longer looks like a teenager.
very good.
He then looked at Sirius.
I hadn't seen my eldest son for almost a year, and the changes were even more noticeable. He had grown taller and his shoulders were broader. The boyishness on his face had faded considerably, replaced by a rebellious and untamed air.
He stood there dressed in Muggle clothes, as if silently defying the ancient traditions of the Black family.
When Orion looked at him, Sirius lowered his head, instinctively avoiding his gaze.
But then he raised his head again, stubbornly meeting his father's gaze, trying to see something in his eyes.
Anger, disgust, helplessness, anything is fine.
But there was nothing there, only indifference.
At that moment, he was filled with mixed emotions, unsure whether to breathe a sigh of relief or feel disappointed, and then he looked away.
The two brothers look very alike, with the same black hair, the same gray eyes, the same high nose bridge, and the same thin lips.
But their temperaments are completely different.
Orion suppressed the complex emotions in his heart.
Regret? Disappointment? Or something else entirely?
He withdrew his gaze and said, "Regulus, Sirius."
They both looked at him at the same time.
"You two spar first, let me see how much you've improved this year."