Harry wasn't trying to find her.
Not really.
He told himself that as he pulled the Invisibility Cloak tighter around his shoulders and slipped out through the portrait hole, heart steady, steps careful. The map in his hand shimmered faintly in the low torchlight, ink lines crawling across the parchment like veins. He tapped it once with his wand, whispered the words without thinking—"I solemnly swear I'm up to no good"—and watched the castle come alive.
It wasn't the first time he had done this.
He told himself he just needed air, needed space, needed to walk somewhere without Ron snoring or Hermione worrying. Maybe he'd pass her by—accidentally. Maybe she'd be leaning against a balustrade or watching the stars again. Maybe she'd say something dry and cutting and cold, and he'd pretend not to like it as much as he did.
His shoes made no sound against the stone as he turned the corner toward the eastern stairwell. He was about to head toward the Astronomy Tower when a name on the map caught his eye.
Regulus Black.
The name hovered in a small chamber just past the old Arithmancy classroom, unmoving but not alone. Another dot was there too, tucked closely beside it.
Sirius Black.
The map nearly slipped from his fingers.
Harry stood frozen in place, heart leaping into his throat. His fingers tightened on the parchment. It had to be a mistake. Or someone else. Or—
But there it was.
Clear as ink, two names.
Regulus Black.
Sirius Black.
They were in the same room.
Harry stopped walking.
The air felt sharper, colder against his neck. He stared at the map, at the two dots so close they nearly touched, his heart suddenly loud.
Sirius Black had broken into the castle again.
And Regulus—his brother—was with him.
Harry's feet were moving before he decided to go. He kept to the shadows, careful, not breathing too loudly, not letting the map out of his sight until he reached the right corridor. The room wasn't far. One of the old classrooms in the east wing, disused and heavy with dust.
Light flickered beneath the door. Harry pressed himself against the wall and leaned in, holding his breath, waiting.
Inside, two voices.
Sirius, low and rough. "You didn't have to come looking for me."
Regulus. Cold, composed, but quieter than usual. "Yes, I did."
"You didn't even know if I was innocent."
"I didn't know anything." A pause. "Because I didn't care to, back then. Not until I saw your name in the Prophet, and remembered everything we didn't say."
"You tracked me down after Azkaban," Sirius said, something unreadable in his voice. "Why?"
"Because I knew something was wrong," Regulus replied. "And because I had something to confess."
Silence.
Then Sirius said, "You told me everything. About the cave. The Horcrux. The Dark Lord."
"I'm still doing things no one knows about," Regulus said. "Still pretending. But not for him. Never again for him."
"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," Sirius said. "Not after—well. After everything."
"I thought the same," Regulus said. "But I couldn't let it end the way it started. I didn't want you to die thinking I hated you."
There was a beat.
"You did hate me."
"I envied you," Regulus said. "And then I convinced myself it was hate because that was easier than asking why you walked away and I didn't."
Sirius let out a sound—half laugh, half sigh. "I didn't walk. I ran."
"And I stayed."
Another silence.
Harry's breath fogged against the stone. He pressed closer.
"You told me about Pettigrew," Regulus said, voice lower now. "That he's alive. That he's here."
"You believe me?"
"Yes."
Harry froze.
Sirius's voice dropped low, the kind of low that carried rage behind it. "He was the Secret Keeper. Not me. He's the reason James and Lily are dead. He's the one who betrayed them."
"And now he's hiding in plain sight."
"I watched him die," Sirius said. "Or I thought I did. I thought I saw him die. But I was wrong. He blew up half a street and left a finger behind."
"I know."
"I went to Azkaban for it," Sirius said, the words like broken glass. "I went to prison for a crime he committed. They never even questioned it."
Harry's stomach turned violently.
Peter Pettigrew. Not Sirius.
It couldn't be. But it was. He'd heard it. Sirius hadn't betrayed them. Peter had.
And everyone thought Sirius had done it.
His head spun, nausea curling low in his gut. He pressed closer to the stone wall as if it would steady him, but nothing about the world felt steady now.
In the room, the silence shifted again.
"You've changed," Sirius said quietly.
"So have you," Regulus answered. "We both lost too much not to."
"I didn't think I'd ever speak to you again," Sirius said. "I figured you hated me like the rest of them."
"I did," Regulus said. "But not anymore."
There was another beat, and then Sirius said, "I'm going to kill him."
"No," Regulus said, calm but firm. "You're going to prove the truth."
"The truth doesn't matter if I don't live long enough to say it."
Regulus's voice was colder now. "You'll live. You'll do it for your godson. He's just a boy."
Sirius's voice dropped. "And he's James's boy."
Something cracked there. A silence thick with meaning passed between them.
Harry pressed his palms harder into the stone.
Sirius said, "They think I betrayed them. That I betrayed him. Lily. All of them."
Regulus's voice came, quieter now. "Because you vanished. Because you laughed when it burned."
"I laughed because I had nothing left."
Harry's stomach twisted.
Sirius added, "He won't forgive me."
Regulus didn't answer immediately.
"He will," he said finally. "when the time is right and he learns the truth."
"You've changed, Reg."
"I had to," Regulus replied. "You weren't the only one who had to survive."
"You're playing both sides?"
"I'm not playing." Regulus said. "I'm doing what I have to. For the right side, this time. Even if no one ever knows."
Sirius made a sound—an exhale, maybe. Then: "You told her?"
"No."
"You will?"
"No."
Harry blinked. Her?
"She deserves to know," Sirius said.
"She deserves peace."
"You don't think she'd want the truth?"
"She's not ready for it," Regulus said tightly. "I'm not even sure I am."
Harry leaned closer. There was a long pause.
Then Sirius said, more quietly than before, "She won't ever forgive me, will she?"
Regulus didn't answer right away.
When he did, his voice was hollow. "I don't even know if she'll forgive me for what I've done. And what I'm doing right now."
Harry's heart thundered. His thoughts were racing.
He didn't understand any of this. Sirius Black was supposed to be a murderer.
A scraping chair. Movement.
Harry ducked backward just as the door creaked open.
Two shadows passed—Sirius first, his long coat trailing behind him like smoke, eyes sharp and shadowed, lips pressed in a grim line. Regulus followed, jaw tight, gaze straight ahead, and a kind of quiet rage in the way he moved.
They didn't see Harry. The cloak held.
He waited until their footsteps faded completely before pulling out the map again.
Their names drifted apart. No one else was near.
But Harry stayed there a long time, pressed into the cold wall, thinking.
He didn't know what he had just witnessed.
All he knew was this: Sirius Black wasn't who he thought he was.
Neither was Regulus.
And if they were telling the truth, if what they said about Peter Pettigrew was real...
Then nothing about the past twelve years was what it seemed.