Regulus almost believed it. Almost. His eyes widened for just a moment, so taken by his brother’s sullen tone that he nearly missed the meaning of his words.
“… Absolutely not!” he protested, his face twisting into a Walburga-inspired scowl, “They can’t sacrifice small children, Sirius. That’s illegal. And anyways, if I was to die I’d like to be buried with my cards.” If only out of spite.
He wrinkled his nose and turned his head to the window, noticing how dark it had become in the few short hours they’d spent on the train. “… Theycan’t sacrifice small children,” he repeated, fussing with his hands on his lap, “Parents would complain.”
Sirius regarded his brother with an expression that conveyed how sorry he felt that the younger boy was just finding his fate out now. The elder brother put his hand on Regulus’ shoulder and sighed loudly, “Oh, Reg… my poor brother.” Sirius even made a show of shaking his head before shifting toward his younger sibling to offer a sense of intimacy and care.
“The ritual is as old as the school itself. It keeps balance… you know, sacrifice the few for the good of the many. Every first year student’s parents are sent an owl before the start of term to remind them of this necessary evil. Why do you think Mum hugged you so long at the platform?” They both knew Walburga was not renowned for her compassion or physical affection. “And why do you think Dad stayed home this year? They’ve got a feeling you’re the smallest.” He clicked his tongue and sighed again.
“Having your cards would help me through the grieving process. Just think about it.”
