The Birth of Bravery

Two brothers closely bound in blood,
They walked two different paths,
Two choices made (opposing goals) –
One bloody aftermath.

Our tale will paint a portrait
Of the younger of the two,
Less brave perhaps, but bold and sharp,
His deeds are matched by few.

Regulus – a Lion’s heart,
He was (at first) not-brave,
Not brash, with no rebellious streak,
At home he duly gave.

A favourite child of parents stern,
He grew to value blood,
Accepted none but highly pure,
There grew in him – that grudge.

He knew not of any Muggleborns,
Nor that prejudice could fail,
The house of Black meant everything;
Black blood always prevailed.

At school he sorted Slytherin,
The house was like no other,
And bask he did in family pride
(and hatred from his brother).

He studied hard and strived to work
His academic best,
Yet always others cleverer,
So there grew in him, unrest.

Now around this time a hatred grew
Of Muggles and their kind,
Looked down upon (Not pure! Not pure!)
Society divides.

And Sirius, though eldest heir
Refused to join the Cause,
Refused to join the prejudice,
Left Blacks forevermore.

So Regulus (now only-child),
Brought up to follow lies,
Was forced into the duty
That his brother left behind.

A searing, burning agony,
A hasty, muttered vow,
Completed his destruction with
His head forever bowed.

This darker world found Regulus
Alone and questioning –
What goodness could cruel deeds achieve?
(What light can darkness bring?)

The world that he had known always,
Beliefs so true and strong,
So quickly crumbled into dust –
Gave way to sorrow’s song.

He had never been the type of boy
With strength to shift the hills,
Yet nor could he close-mind (close-heart)
Innocence. (He couldn’t kill.)

There came a day (deciding-time),
A thought entered his head,
How refreshing freedom seemed to be,
He was not afraid of death.

He was not afraid when quietly hid,
He listened to whispered words -
Of evil, triumph over fate
And hidden souls he heard.

A secret cave where lies a prize,
A precious slice of life;
And what to do now that he knows
The way to melt the knife?

This time, he found so difficult
To process what he knew,
He found himself soon wondering
What Sirius would do.

Then without a doubt he realised
That he must walk away,
From life of old (Not pure! Not true!)
To keep end-of-world at bay.

So it was to be, a misty morn,
That far away from home,
Salt-spray spat at blackened rock
That concealed a cave of stone.

It was here alone he ventured in,
Unafraid of dark,
Scarlet droplets splattered walls
As he sliced with silver-sharp.

Across the water, ripples stirred,
He ignored its blackened depths;
A thousand faces drowning still,
Devoid of human breath.

Now finally, he eyed the prize
That was soon to be his bane,
And completing his destruction he
Picked up the gleaming chain.

How hefty is the price of life?
Precious is the soul,
At end-of-soul lies end-of-life
But I will complete my goal.

Drowning faces rise and sneer,
As he flees and quickly hides
His prize, his bane (his death, perhaps?)
I am not afraid to die.

Returning, close to home, he flees
And hurries through the crowds
Nowhere on earth is safe to turn,
I must complete this now.

In chilly streets where echoes sound,
Footsteps on cobbled stone,
Alone he stumbles, wondering
Will they miss me back at home?

He breaks the locket, metal clinks
As chains crash to the ground,
Like silver droplets, silver tears,
Soon I will be found.

He cannot help but breathe a sigh
That the end (so soon) has come,
He senses now - the time to go,
For now, my task is done.

In every shadow seems to lurk
A flash of looming death,
Then finally he turns (he smiles,)
So this is my last breath.

Two brothers once so different,
Yet worked for self-same cause,
Two choices made (colliding paths)
With Death to close the door.

Our tale has woven tragedy
For the younger of the two,
He is brave at last – but at great a price
To pay for seeing Truth.