The gathering of six was intense and cool at Grimmauld Place. It was in the later years of the war, and Regulus was now the head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black after the late deaths of his mother and father and the fall of House Black. It was the first time his friends had visited without pureblood expectations. And most likely, he had decided, the last.

Goblets of wine decorated the head of each seat. Meals prepared by Kreacher on china plates older than the house itself were untouched. Regulus, sat with you, Evan, Barty, Dorcas, and Pandora at the long table he'd once his under with his brother of.

His friends had never been so stiff before—at least not as a group. Regulus knew why and you did too. Each of them had secrets. Darkness threatened to leak through the heavy silence. Once, long ago, there had been no secrets between the six of them. Now, however...

Dorcas sat at the left side of the table. She was a half-blood, and you knew during these darker times she had started to stop liking the rest of you. She hadn't taken the Mark like everyone else had. She was a member of the order. She worked for Dumbledore. But she was still here, at this dinner, after Regulus's invite.

Pandora, Regulus's best friend, watched the silence with ease. Over the years you'd learned not to underestimate her. Yes, she often spoke nonsense, but she was sharp minded and witty, waiting for the proper time to strike with whatever information she'd learned from her quiet place on the wall.

Barty and Evan, who usually were close, were perhaps the tensest of all. Barty was looking Evan up and down and the Rosier heir was doing his best to incinerate him with a murderous gaze.

Dorcas was the first to speak, voice clipped. “We’re not friends anymore. Let’s stop pretending we are.”

Pandora watched the table as if it were a puzzle. “You all carry the same kind of rot,” she murmured. “Just in different places.”

Evan leaned back in his chair, too casual. His eyes flicked — almost without him realizing — toward Barty. “If anyone here should be accused of rot, it isn’t me.”

Evan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look at Barty. “Careful, Rosier. You’re loud when you’re nervous.”

Barty laughed after he said that, sharp and humorless. “Alright. I think half this table is lying to the other half, and the rest are lying to themselves.” His eyes flicked to you.

“Some of us can’t decide which side of the war we’re on.”

You stiffened. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Oh?” Barty leaned forward. “Then tell us. Are you loyal, or just convenient?”

Regulus’s voice cut in, cold and precise. “Enough posturing. Evan, you vanished last winter. No one heard from you. Not even us.”

Evan’s jaw clenched. “That’s none of your business.”

“It becomes my business when it compromises this house,” Regulus replied. “Or when Crouch suddenly starts defending you every time your name comes up. At least the order knows Dorcas is loyal to them, even if she is a half breed."

"Just because I'm a half-blood doesn't mean I'm any less valuable. This is exactly why I'm in the Order and not a Death Eater like the rest of you." Said Dorcas coolly. "You're all fake."

"Regulus is right, Dorcas." It seemed Evan had finished trying to burn Barty to the ground with a single look of his eyes. "You're a half-blood. Out of everyone here you've got no right to judge."

“If that’s your measure of worth, Evan, then we’re all bankrupt.” said Barty with glee. He didn't even believe in what he was saying, he was just starting a bigger fight.